Life's Great To-Do List

As I’ve mentioned before, I am a chronic list maker. I make lists of all kinds: grocery lists, packing lists, chore lists and especially to-do lists. I’m not sure if it’s just the sieve-brain that I feel I’ve acquired since becoming a mother but the minute I think of something to do, I have to write it down or I’ll forget it. And if I forget something then the groceries won’t get done, dinner won’t be prepared, that permission slip won’t be signed and the entire house of cards will come crashing down.

Did I mention that I put a lot of pressure on myself?

I also get an extraordinary amount of pleasure from checking things off. It’s a sickness.

But the one thing that I haven’t kept on top of is my “bucket list,” i.e. that list of life’s great to-do’s (get married, have kids, find a cure for cancer, etc.). I have a mental list but it always gets buried under the pile of the more mundane everyday lists. Once in a while, I get to cross things off my bucket list even if things don’t always turn out as planned.

Nearly two years ago, my husband and I went to Paris to celebrate our tenth anniversary and my 40th birthday. It truly was the trip of a lifetime. I had always dreamed of going to Paris, sitting in cafes, soaking up the culture and language and enjoying the food...and exploring the museums, especially the National Museum of Picasso in the Marais District. Forget the Louvre! (I hear it’s a bit overrated anyway, too big to tackle in a day.) I wanted to see Picasso’s personal collection of art in Paris. It was on my list.

Our last full day in Paris, we mapped out our final stops- breakfast on the Sienne, Notre Dame, Marais District, Picasso Museum, lunch in St-Germain-de-Pres, walk to the Eiffel Tour with a stop at Luxembourg Gardens. All went according to plan until we arrived at the entrance of the Picasso museum and found this sign:

The museum had closed a few weeks prior to our arrival for a renovation expected to take up to 3 years! I was devastated but vowed that I’d be back to see the collection when it reopened.

As luck would have it, the touring collection made only one stop in Canada right here in Toronto! Last night I had the pleasure of attending a special event at the AGO with my husband and having a private tour of the exhibit. Given that I couldn't see the collection in Paris, perhaps this was even better. I strolled through the neary-empty rooms, not a crowd in sight, pausing and admiring each piece of work, taking it all in: his sketches, drawing, paintings, sculptures. I was so absorbed in my own experience that I didn’t realize that I was the absolute last one left in the museum and that the security guards were patiently following me and my husband so they could lock the doors behind us. 

Did the exhibit live up to my expectations? Most definitely. And if I couldn’t see it in Paris, having a private tour made up for that in spades.

Life doesn’t always turn out as planned and our bucket list sometimes gets set aside by any number of obstacles that get thrown our way. But with some patience and an eye for opportunity, life has a way of working itself out.

Next on my list: Macchu Pichu!

Image 1 © Lane Erickson | Dreamstime.com

Image 2 courtesy of http://www.indulgedecorblog.com

Today Is the Day!

Today is the day that I have been dreaming about for 7 years since my son was diagnosed with a peanut allergy. Today we go into hospital where his allergist will slowly and carefully feed him peanut butter. If he passes this "oral challenge", our lives will change forever.

I just bought Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as per the doctor’s instructions. It’s the first time I’ve bought them in 7 long years. Apparently many peanut-allergic children don't like the taste of peanut butter so it can be hard to distinguish distaste from an allergic reaction. Hence the Peanut Butter Cups (what's not to like about chocolate and peanut butter?).

L is thrilled at the prospect of never having to wear his Epipen again, taking off his MedicAlert bracelet and just eating whatever he wants. I’m excited to possibly buy peanut butter again, to grocery shop without reading every single label and to send him to play-dates and sleepovers without worry. I'm sure that friends and family are looking forward to preparing and serving food without fear of causing an adverse reaction.

I’m also a bit terrified. What if he has a reaction in the hospital? He’s (thankfully) never had full-blown anaphylaxis and I don’t want to see it. I tell myself that he will be in hospital and closely watched with all modern medical technology at hand. I’m thankful that my husband will be there with me so I’m not having to put on a brave face by myself.

Please keep all fingers and toes crossed and pray to your divine connections. I’ll keep you posted...

Image Copyright © 2012 Dysprosia

Summer Camp Available in the 'Hood

(This is a special message about a summer camp available this summer in my neighbourhood. Regularly scheduled posting will resume soon.)

Looking for a summer camp in the Junction this summer?

The Junction Daycare (located in Annette Public School) is offering day camps this summer for children aged 6-12 years. In addition to fun and creative weekly themes, every week includes either a special trip away from the daycare or a visit to the daycare from a special guest. There are also arts and crafts to complement the theme of the week. 

Junction Daycare is a non-profit daycare centre operated by a parent board of directors. They are staffed by Early Childhood Educators and Teaching Assistants, with first aid training. Activities and trips are planned by staff with input from parents. Activities are all safe, fun and developmentally appropriate.

For more information: 

Junction Day Care Centre

265 Annette St. Toronto, ON M6P 1R3 

416-767-2991 and speak to Virginia, Verona, or Laura

Website www.junctiondaycare.com 

Email junctiondaycare@bellnet.ca

Never Wake a Sleeping Mother

I am not a morning person. I never have been and I never will be. My parents know this. My siblings know this. My university room-mates know this. My friends know this. My husband knows this.

You would think that my children would know this by now.

I have discovered that to function at peak levels, I require a full 9 hours of undisturbed sleep. I know it’s a bit extreme. But left alone to sleep without interruption I will guarantee you that after 9 hours I will wake on my own, refreshed and ready to tackle the day with a smile on my face. Many people function well on less, some on as little as 5 or 6 hours a night. This person is not me.

This 9 hour block of time is my holy grail, forever out of reach ever since I conceived my son almost 10 years ago. Any pregnant woman will tell you that the hormones and body changes combined with the little person practicing soccer moves in utero is not conducive to catching decent winks. Once that baby is born you can forget about sleep for the next few years. 

But then these little creatures trick you. They lead you to believe that they have mastered the art of falling asleep and staying asleep for up to 13 hours at a time...until around the age of 6 1/2 years when they reach the developmental stage of the dreaded nightmare. And fear of the dark. 

For over a month now, my darling daughter K has been waking up at some point between 1:30 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. calling my name like a foghorn: Mooo-ooommm! Moooooo-oooooom! MOOOOO-OOOOM! I stumble out of bed like something undead to discover that she’s scared of...something. I’ve tried reasoning with her, comforting her, negotiating, threatening, shouting. These are not my proud mommy moments. As I mentioned, I am not a morning (or middle of the night) person. If you want to live, Do. Not. Wake. Me. Up.

I have tried putting her in my bed, an obvious solution for both of us you would think. Except for the fact that she insists on sleeping snuggled right up against me and the minute her twin sister finds herself in her room...alone... all hell breaks loose. Then I have two cranky girls, one refusing the leave my bed, the other refusing to sleep alone. And an extremely cranky mother to boot. So for now I’ve decided that she should stay in her own bed, full-stop. This means that I am up and down the hallway a hundred times, rubbing her back, trying desperately to persuade her to go back to sleep. And if it’s after 5am, there’s nothing doing. She will wake up her sister, there will be words exchanged, perhaps items thrown at each other, they will wake up their brother- and likely the poor neighbours on the other half of our semi-detached home. Everyone starts the day miserably. Except for K who can metamorphose into sweet chipper little thing the moment the sun rises. This morning (after at 4am wake-up), I came to the breakfast table to find my seat reserved by this:

She had made me a breakfast of toast with No Nuts pea butter and a glass of water chilled by a cooler pack from the freezer. How can I stay upset at that?

For now, I will continue to search for a solution and nap whenever I can to catch up on my elusive 9 hours. I will trust (and pray) that this phase will be short-lived. And I will thank the heavens for little girls- and coffee.

Lion Image © David Crippen | Dreamstime.com