History in the Making

We remember moments; moments in history that define our culture and plot certain times in our lives like the points on a graph, those “where-were-you-when” moments that happen every so often.  If you’re a sports fan in Canada, you’re in the midst of one of those moments right now. raptors logo

Although the official viewing numbers haven”t been released yet, most of us were watching last night, and many of us living in Eastern Standard Time are bleary-eyed, nursing an emotional hangover this morning.  Last Friday’s Game 4 win was the highest-ranked sports broadcast of the entire year, and I suspect last night’s game 5 ranks in that mix too.  And while a Monday night game is not ideal, settle in friends, our next moment happens on Thursday.

My children have grown into avid sports fans, and although my seven-year-old tapped out after the first quarter, my ten-year old made it to midnight.  He was perched on the edge of his seat, watching the final minutes of the game unfold in his pyjama pants and Raptor’s jersey.  They’ve seen the excitement building; the Raptor’s days at school, the flags flying on car windows, the #WeTheNorth cupcakes and cookies and hats.  And they’ve felt the energy in Burlington’s Burlassic Park and marvelled at the fans camped out in Toronto, waving cardboard Drake heads and jumping for joy.  They watch the pre-game promos intently, Raptors in 30 before school, and my seven-year-old daughter can rhyme off the starting lineup and half the bench.  They’ll be fans for life, officially hooked. raps pic

We’ve been explaining to them the significance of this playoff run for the past couple of months.  In their short lifetimes, they’ve also seen the Jays almost get there, and they remember how our living room erupted after Bautista’s 2015 bat flip.  But they definitely don’t realize the rarity of this event, and how long Toronto sports fans have been waiting for a championship.

They’ll be watching on Thursday night too, and on Sunday, if it comes to that.  And we’ll go to the parade- we’ll load ourselves onto the GO train, we’ll pull them out of school, we’ll be decked out in our Raptor’s red.  We’ll join the thousands upon thousands of other fans who have been waiting so long for our team to win. Why?  Because this is history in the making.

And that’s the best part of all this, isn’t it?  The camaraderie, the collective excitement, the coming-togetherness.  We’ve united from coast to coast, all part of a common goal, all sharing a common dream.  This is our time, our turn, our year.

Go Raps.

 


The Good Ol’ Days are Now.

There are times in history where we all remember where we were when that specific moment passed.  Tragic events, like Princess Diana’s death or the events of 9/11, or the really happy stuff, like weddings and babies and birthdays.  But what about the day-to-day?  The average?  The routines?

My son and I were sitting at my daughter’s lacrosse practice on Sunday evening, and in the waning moments of her drills, he started scrolling through the photos on my phone.  We reminisced about pictures at the start of my camera roll, dating all the way back to 2013; from loose teeth and Halloween parties to vacations and baseball games.  “Oh, the good ol’ days,” he said flippantly, with the tongue-in-cheek nonchalance that only a ten-year-old can muster.  He didn’t mean it, of course, but his statement made me take pause.

Jays game

This was one of the “good ol’ days” photos he was referring to.

The good ol’ days.

The thing about the good ol’ days is that they seem better when shined up with the lens of nostalgia.  In fact, in a few years, today will be one of those good ol’ days.

It was a good reminder for me to live in the present, be in the moment, have gratitude for today.  It’s something that many of us struggle with I’m sure, and as a Type-A Virgo, my drive to always be onto the next, striving for more, pushing the limits, can sometimes be too much.

Breathe.

Pause.

Take it in.

Today is a good ol’ day.

remember


Ten.

My son turns ten years old today.  Ten.  A full decade, two whole hands, double digits.

How does this happen?  I think that time speeds up exponentially when you become a parent; that’s the only logical explanation as to why the last ten years have flown by so much more quickly than the ten before them.  Each stage of parenthood has been an adjustment, but a very gradual one, full of such small daily changes that they aren’t even noticed until you look back and realize they’ve occurred.  He still needs me, yes, but he needs me far differently than he did then.

I wrote a post when he turned five, and now five is a distant memory and we are on the road to the tweens.  I read over my original words again yesterday, and I cried at this part:

You are one half of my greatest accomplishment, my biggest treasure, my deepest emotion.  My everyday-moment-joy doubles when you smile and raises tenfold when you laugh.  I hurt when you hurt, and when you cry on the outside I cry on the inside.  Before we had you, I wasn’t even sure I wanted children, or had a maternal instinct inside of me.  You changed that, my love.  You showed me a side of myself that I didn’t know even existed, and a side of myself that now seems so intuitive, so fateful, so clear, so this-is-what-I-was-meant-to-do obvious.  

My biggest treasure, my deepest emotion.  All still true.

Happy birthday my sweet boy.

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