Planting Time Seeds

I thought I’d write a poem this time
Cuz my ideas have been low.
I like to bounce my words around
And speak aloud and slow.

I find it gets my brain stirred up
And makes me laugh in my head.
I feel just like my fourth-grader
As I review the prose ahead.

But the reality is, it’s been a long time
That I’ve been writing this blog,
This post is number two nighty-six
And some weeks it’s a bit of a slog.

I love to write and the feedback is great
Per month I’ve got thousands of reads.
But when push comes to shove, the real story is
I need hours to be grown from seeds.

Between hockey and skiing,
Now is lacrosse and baseball,
School pickups and dropoffs
It’s become quite the haul.

Time is tricky to find
In the balance as a mum,
I wish those time seeds
Could be planted with my thumb.

I’d grow some for RockTape
And the Burlington Runners Club,
My writing commitments
Could be grown like a shrub.

I’d plant some more seeds
For my New York training fears.
There’s that 42.2 looming
My first marathon in twelve years.

Let’s not forget date nights
Which are nearly non-existent.
And our evenings on the couch
Have been less than consistent.

There’s parent council meetings at school
And kids coaching to do,
We also have a puppy,
She’s sweet and her name’s Blue.

There you have it my friends
What I’m trying to say,
Is let’s see what happens
At least I posted today.

I’m at my kitchen table,
I booked an hour off the hook
To wrap my brain around ideas
And maybe finally start my book.

But all that I’ve accomplished
Is this three-hundred word poem.
Yet I’ve also built this life;
My family, house, and home.

So even though it’s busy,
Full of rush and multi-tasking
It’s what I’ve chosen, what I’m proud of,
And in that I will stay basking.

I saw this post on Instagram,
It’s the background on my phone.
I’m thankful for every piece of my life
But perhaps I need a clone.

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.

your-number-10-clipart-1


GDMFSOB

Are you ready for some sap?

My little girl turned six years old earlier this Spring.  But to me, perhaps because she’s my last baby, she’s still oh-so-little.  When my son was six, I remember thinking he was such a big boy and was capable of so much, and yet when she, my second child, is six I have tended to underestimate her and “baby” her along the way.  I’ve noticed this pattern in my parenting over the past couple of years and have really tried to change it.  After all,  if I’m raising a strong, confident daughter, then coddling her will do her no favours.

When she’s the first one up in our household, she’s taken to going into the living room, getting herself some cereal and turning on SportsCentre on TV.  We have a no-TV-before-school rule, but c’mon, sports highlights don’t count.

Last weekend was a particularly early wakeup for her, so after her breakfast and TSN fix, she got out her paper and markers and made this creation:

Casey drawing May 2018

It says “My family is the most important thing to me in my life!”

I sobbed when she showed it to me.  And then she cried because I was crying.  You can see how sensitive souls tend to raise other sensitive souls, can’t you?

Deep within my tears was a feeling of tremendous pride mixed with a touch of GDMFSOB (look it up) we are DOING THIS RIGHT.

Mic drop.