Catch your Breath

Leave a comment September 15, 2015 drworobec

There’s something about a day of puttering around home that really makes my heart sing. Sunday was a day of exactly that, and now I feel like my world is back to spinning on its proper axis.

Life has changed a lot for me in the past couple of weeks, mostly centered around the move that I’ve been blabbering on about. Add to that the back-to-school chaos that we’ve all experienced, and I’ve felt very out of balance lately; I seemingly haven’t been able to catch my breath. But there were several things that helped me catch it this weekend. The first of those things being friends.

I competed in a CrossFit competition on Saturday afternoon. It was an all-female event comprised of teams of three, and there were more than one hundred women involved; nearly half of that hundred were members of my gym. The event raised money for Love the Snatch, a cervical cancer foundation started by someone gone far too soon. I spent the afternoon cheering, chatting, laughing, and sweating. And when I left, my heart was full and smiling. Can hearts smile? Yep. They can, and they do.

And then there’s my Sunday. Some IKEA assembly for my work-with-my-hands side, some country music for my feels-like-home side, some coffee for my I-love-coffee side, and heaps upon heaps of family time for my this-is-what-life-is-about side.

And so, my friends, the world continues to turn, doesn’t it? Even when change is happening fast and furious. Even when we can’t catch our breath. And when balance is restored and my breath has been caught, these guys are always there to go for a walk or read books or help me make dinner, and make me feel right back to normal.

I love these guys.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
~ Maya Angelou

Are you Happy, Mommy?

4 Comments January 27, 2015 drworobec

My little girl, who is a month shy of three years old, is sugary-sweet and firecracker combined into a 30-lb package. My hopes and dreams for her span far and wide. She’s taught me things that no one else could. She thinks I hung the moon. She’s a “Mommy’s girl” through and through.

Lately, she’s been asking me this question a lot:

“Are you happy, Mommy?”

Usually it gets asked after her or her brother have been disciplined. Sometimes she asks me in the darkness of the night, when her little voice has called me to take her to the bathroom. But once in a while it’s an out-of-the-blue, regular conversation question.

Most of the time, my answer is yes. And it’s a genuine yes; I’m blessed to live a happy life. But sometimes the answer is no. No, I’m not happy that you just had a temper tantrum about which pants to wear. Or threw your fork across the room. Or hit your brother. In those instances, I explain that I’m not happy about what’s just happened. But what about the times when I’m just having a tough day and she can read it on my face?

From time to time, I struggle with my answer. Her bright eyes peer at me, her head tilts, her concerned brow questions. Am I happy?

Do I shield her two-year-old heart from negative emotion and keep her safe and secure in a world of only happiness and good outcomes?
Or do I show her the real-life stuff and teach her that emotions, both good and bad, can ebb and flow?

I choose the latter.

I think it’s important that children see their parents be sad and disappointed and frustrated. Upset. Worried. Troubled. And yes, even angry. But I think it’s even more important that children see their parents handle these emotions constructively.

My kids see me cry.

My kids see me get excited.

My kids see me yell.

My kids see me laugh.

Emotion is a part of life, so it is the process of learning to deal with that emotion that will serve them well.

“Are you happy, Mommy?”

Yes, my sweet girl, more than you’ll ever know.

Come and Visit Us

4 Comments December 16, 2014 drworobec

I’m going to get a bit sentimental, a bit nostalgic, and a bit festive. Let’s talk Christmas cards.

I have strong memories of my mother sitting down every December to write out personalized Christmas cards to a huge circle of friends and family. She would sit at the kitchen counter with her address book, her pen, and her stamps, and very thoughtfully and deliberately write a note in each one. Sometimes a Christmas letter would be printed, summarizing our year for those we didn’t see often, and a family picture was always thrown in the mix. As a young child, I remember my dad fiddling behind the tripod to get the right shot, and as a surly teenager, my patience would wear thin with try after try.

But, as with most things, you don’t realize that memories are being made until they are already a part of you. So as December rolls around, my own Christmas card clock starts to tick. My list has grown over the years, and I now send more than one hundred cards, either through the mail or hand-delivered. I’ve got my spreadsheet, my address book, and my envelope-sealing husband; we’ve become a finely-tuned assembly line of Christmas cheer. I send them as a way to keep in touch; a real, personal, from-the-heart touch in this world of email/Social Media immediacy. Christmas cards are my annual way of sending a hug across the miles and a you’re-important-to-me message through the mail.

With a childhood in Alberta, school friends all across Canada, and backpacking friends overseas, my postage order is colourful and diverse. This is my way to reflect on my life, cultivate my community, build my village. My cup runneth over.

This year, the message on our card reads “Come and visit us.” And I mean it.

To my friends overseas, I hope to see you soon.

To my friends across North America, the guest room’s open.

To my friends in Burlington, pop-bys are welcome and the coffee is on.

To my family and friends in Alberta, I miss you.

Come and visit us.