Cottaging with Teenagers
Author: jill
•8:34 AM
     Somehow, I have become a meal planner; which is okay with me because planning is what I do best. I love the research and the opportunity to be creative. To be honest, I can spend more time planning than actually "doing." And I like to organize my plans, too. You can laugh, I don't mind. There have been times where I've made a list of the lists I need to make. I know I have done this when planning a vacation; when children are involved, there are lots of things to remember and sometimes making a list of the lists of things you must bring along is the easiest way to do it. Okay, now you have to stop laughing at me.

     After seeing my posts about breakfast ideas for my friend's little punkin, another friend asked if I had some ideas for her big punkin. Let me explain: a friend is going to her cottage with another Mom and four teenage boys (ages 15 to 18 years). She wanted some ideas for meals that would fill them up and could be made in large quantities.

     So, I thought about it, and this is what I would bring (for food) if I were going to a cottage with four teenage boys.
(1) There are the obvious things like hamburgers, hotdogs, pot o' chili, steak, barbequed chicken, stew (which I think is completely gross, by the way), lasagna, and various other make ahead casseroles. But, I'm not going to mention those here because they are too obvious. What may not be so obvious is that the adults do not always have to eat the same thing as the kids. I realized this after eating pizza every Friday night for as long as I could remember; I came to hate it. So, remember that you don't have to eat hotdogs just because the boys are.
(2) Teenagers like sandwiches. Jonesy told me that when he was a teenager, he ate sandwiches three at a time. I was a teenaged girl, so I just ate one sandwich at a time but I did like them a lot. You could buy a couple of large French loaves from the bakery, and make your own subs ... but with really good fillings. I'm thinking pesto instead of plain ol' mayo, olive salad, Italian deli meats, really flavourful cheeses. They're easy to wrap and take to the beach, or heat up in the oven for a warm and gooey sandwich. Since these are hungry boys we're trying to feed, serve chips and vegies with dip, too. But don't offer pop or juice ... get out the blender and make a milkshake. Milkshakes are filling and can be nutritionally beneficial if you use fresh ingredients. Plus, since the blender is already out, you could make the Moms one of those fancy blender drinks, right?
(3) Spaghetti and Meatballs are quick and easy, if you bring meatballs with you. Just plop them into the tomato sauce to reheat, while your noodles cook. Make homemade oversized meatballs, and the boys can use leftovers to make Meatball Subs the next day for lunch; just get another one of those French Bread loaves, cut the meatballs in half (so there is a flat surface), some slices of mozarella cheese and heat them up in the oven. And, instead of the moms having to eat spaghetti and meatballs, just separate the unadorned noodles and make something ... ummm, well make something better. Something like this.
(4) I am the first to admit that I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. Too much, if the truth be told. I came across this idea and think that it is a great alternative to the traditional lasagna. They are little lasagna cups ... but it does depend on how much time you want to spend preparing ahead of time. It seems to me that it would easy enough to make them, then freeze them; after a long day at the beach, or antiquing, you could just pop these into the oven and make a salad while they reheat. If each mom made 24, surely that would be more than enough for the hungry teenage boys, wouldn't it?
(5) Shishkabobs. I love shishkabobs and I don't make them enough. They are easy, they cook quickly, and they are delicious. Plus, you can do all kinds of different things with them and use just about any type of meat you like. Skewer some potatoes, and your whole supper can be shishkabobs. Alternatively, you can make some rice, or a couscous salad, to accompany them, while the teenagers assemble wraps using Greek pita breads ... you know, like those sandwiches they love so much.
(6) I have a tip that is good whether you are cottaging or it is a regular Friday night at home. Did you know that your local (favourite) pizzeria will sell you their dough? We have bought a large pizza dough for $2.25 from our most favourite pizzeria and made our pizza-pie at home; you need to think of a family(or individually)-owned pizzeria because they will have the best, freshest dough. I'm not sure how far your cottage is from civilization, but if there are no local pizzerias, you could buy some before you leave and freeze it. I also love this idea because the boys can help prepare the toppings and make their own pizza ... barbeque some sausage and then slice it, shred the cheese, shape the dough. Why should the moms have to do all the work? Moms like vacation, too.
(7) This is the most amazingly easy and yet amazingly good recipe I have come across ... Refried Beans. Please do not stop reading ... these beans finish like a creamy bean dip. My kids beg for this it is so good ... they actually think it is a treat! You can serve this as a dip with nacho chips and vegies. We make bean and cheese soft tacos with it, and super nachos, and quesadillas; but our newest discovery is to spread a soft flour taco with the refried beans, then wrap it around a hard taco shell, fill the taco shell as you would for any other taco ... and voila: homemade Gorditas!! This recipe is so great because you simply put the ingredients into a crock pot, turn it on, and come back 8 hours later; not sure if your cottage is equipped with an immersion blender but if it's not, I would definitely make this ahead of time to bring along. Yes, it's that good. Plus, it can be used to make a ton of different things, it's filling and it's good for you. It has no fat, ladies.
(8) I think I would bake a little ahead of going and freeze some treats ... things the boys could just grab when they're hungry. Which will be all the time, won't it? Store-bought snacks have a lot of processed sugars which do not fill you up. I would suggest homemade granola bars because the dried fruit, nuts and seeds are both filling and nutritious (I add 1/2cup of flour to this recipe); muffins; large-size oatmeal cookies; whatever are your kids' favourites. And, if both moms commit to baking two or three treats, you should have lots. Don't forget about fruit ... kids will eat it, if it's around. And adults should too.

     Well, I hope that helps a little. In any case, have fun at the cottage.
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Another Breakfast for Theo
Author: jill
•9:48 AM
Okay, sometimes I get carried away with things. But after my post yesterday about muffins that kids like to eat, I remembered a favourite breakfast of Caiden's. Don't tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure he ate this cereal almost every day from the time he was (about) one-year-old until he was at least 3 1/2 years old. And the only reason he stopped eating it, was because (stupid) Marnie came along and I couldn't feed cereal to two kids at the same time in the morning. That's right, he would let me feed him when he was three years old; he was such a cuddly, easy-going, sweet little guy who was happy to have everything done for him. Perfect for an over-bearing mommy like me.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Theo is sick of having cereal every morning, which is why his mom asked for a muffin recipe. To this I respond that this is a big-boy cereal; it's full of texture and new tastes.

I found this recipe in Annabel Karmel's First Meals (1999). I recommend this book to anyone who is looking for great ideas when making infant purees and first foods. Some of the recipes she includes for toddlers are a little high in sugar for my liking, but otherwise, I loved this book and used it all the time. Annabel Karmel became interested in nutrition after the death of her first baby at thirteen weeks old. Although her daughter's death was not diet-related, it spurred her to think about food in a new way because she wanted to give her second child "the best possible start to life" (pg 6). She likes to make (real) food, instead of buying it in a jar or a package. I like that, too. Karmel has a website with loads of ideas, and she has gone on to publish several cookbooks with children in mind.

Fruity Baby Muesli

1/4 cup rolled oats
2 tbsp toasted wheat germ
1 dried apricot, chopped
1 tbsp golden raisins
2/3 cup white grape juice, or apple juice
1/2 red apple, peeled and grated
3 seedless grapes, quartered

Put the oats and wheat germ in a bowl with the dried apricot and raisins. Cover with the juice and let soak for at least two hours ... or overnight is best. (You could also use milk or plain youghurt to soak the oats overnight, if your child tolerates milk products.)
Add the apples and grapes to the soaked cereal and blend/puree. Try using your Magic Bullett.
Makes 2 servings. Recommended for babies 9-12 months.
     This is where Karmel's recipe ends .... but for me, it continues on a bit. As Caiden got a little bit bigger, I didn't puree the muesli at all ... but what I always did, was mix this cereal with (prepared) infant baby cereal. The texture gives the baby something to chew on and there are some very yummy new flavours in there; but the familiar is there, as well. Plus, your baby gets the nutritional value of fresh and dried fruit all at the same time.

     I also found the ratio of oats to juice resulted in a fairly soupy mixture; so, I added more oats than called for in the recipe. How much, you ask? Ummmm ... that was a long time ago, and I don't recall. Play around with it until you find the right mixture for you. In fact, there is no reason why you cannot eat this cereal too ... a little yoghurt on top, fresh fruit ... yum!
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Breakfast for Theo
Author: jill
•10:53 AM
     A friend asked if I had a good muffin recipe. I love making muffins; I make them all the time. But this was, sort of, special because my friend needs a muffin recipe to make breakfast interesting (again) for her little one-year-old punkin, Theo. Eventually, they all start to exhibit their independence by deciding what tastes good, and boring ol' cereal just won't do forever.     When my little punkins were littler, I baked them muffins three or four times a week ... some cut up fruit, and maybe a little piece of cheese, along side their warm muffin and they would be quiet for at least an hour until I inevitably heard, "Mo muffin pease."
     This was my "go-to" muffin recipe, found in Anne Lindsay's Smart Cooking (1986). In the past, I have quadrupled this recipe, baked it in commercial-sized baking pans and served it as a part of the (nutritional) snack program at my children's school. And the reason I know kids like it, is because on the mornings I arrived at the school with my huge containers of Oatmeal Muffin squares, kids would cheer and tell me it was their favourite school snack.
     So, I hope Theo likes it, too.

Oatmeal Raisin Muffins

1 cup rolled oats
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 cup milk (or soy milk works great, too) mixed with the juice of 1/2 a lemon)
1 cup all-purpose flour (or 1/2 whole wheat flour, 1/2 all-purpose flour)
1 tbsp natural bran
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup raisins or chopped apricots (optional)
1/2 cup vegetable oil (or use 1/2 oil, 1/2 fruit puree)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg, lightly beaten

Stir the rolled oats into the buttermilk and let stand while you get everything else ready.

Preheat the oven to 375F. Line 12 muffin cups with papers,or grease muffin cups with butter.

Mix together flour, bran, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, salt and raisins, if using. Stir oil, sugar and egg into buttermilk mixture; blend well. Stir liquid mixture into the flour mixture, stirring just until combined.

Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until firm to the touch.

** I have baked this recipe in an 8-inch square pan (for about 25 minutes) and called it "Breakfast Cake." My kids think they are getting something really special!

     On a completely different note, if you are not interested in low sugar and healthy muffins ... you know, something super yummy but not to be eaten every day ... give this a try or these. Oh my god ...
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Blackbird Returns
Author: jill
•2:22 PM
The brain is a very powerful piece of machinery. One of its jobs is to protect you ... from things that can hurt you, destroy you. My brain has been very good at its job.

When Caiden was just an infant, I took him to Kindermusik classes. Parents attend with their infants and sing songs with simple actions. We stopped going when he was about two-and-a-half-years old because Mommy could not coordinate the class with his baby sister's nap routine - I guess you know where my priorities lie. I highly recommend these classes to all parents ... they're fun and Caiden loved them so much.

There was one song though ... it had a tune that upset me. I mean, this little lullaby moved me to tears every time I heard it. And yet, I was drawn to it; in fact, I loved it. I had no idea why. One day, Jonesy walked in while it was playing and saw the tears in my eyes. I explained the affect the song had on me and he knew why ...

"It is the tune from Blackbird," he told me. I just looked at him blankly, because not only did I not know the song he was referring to, but I had no idea how it related to me. "You know, the song they played at your brother's funeral ..." But that was more than twenty years ago.

I still had no idea what he was talking about. I didn't even know they played music at Joel's funeral. In fact, I don't really remember the funeral at all. Shouldn't I remember that? But I don't ... because my brain is protecting me from it ... from the memories and the hurt.

Last summer, I won a copy of  Alice Kuiper's new book, The Worst Thing She Ever Did (2010). I would like to tell you that I just haven't had time to read it, but that would only be half true. I think I have been avoiding it. You see, the story is of Sophie who has tragically lost her sister, and she is trying to deal with the loss ... and, I was afraid that some painful memories would surface. And I might not be able to deal with it ...

But, I handled it ... I mean, a few tears were shed but that happens often when I read. I could relate to so much of what Sophie goes through ... her sense of looking for some sort of "normal-ness" in life, her feeling like an outsider, her wishing things could just go back to the way it used to be. She walks through the street, quite literally as her world is crashing down around her, and everyone else is just going about their daily lives. I recall going to the grocery store (when the police were still searching for Joel's body), and wondering how everybody could just go on, like nothing had changed. How could people just buy their groceries when my brother had drowned and I did not know what to do? I honestly didn't know what I was suppose to do next.

Sophie moves through the first year of life without her sister with the help of a therapist, and begins to write poetry. She does not want to remember and forces the memories away. But the more she remembers the good times with her sister, the more she is able to come to terms with Emily's death. Until she remembers everything. And that is all I will tell you ... because you should read it for yourself.

My only criticism of the whole story is that I find it difficult to believe this young, seventeen-year-old emotionally distraught girl could write the insightful, mature, abstract poem that she finishes by the end of the book. Because if there is one thing that I have learned over this past semester, it is that a poem is not something that you just jot down - its greatness comes together after a great deal of thought. Read some e e cummings, to see what I am getting at. But that is just me ... perhaps I am a non-believer, a cynic.

I wonder what would have flowed from my brain to a piece of paper in the months following Joel's death ...

Now, when I listen to Blackbird - which is not very often - I become very sad, and introspective, and teary. But I have come to understand why. And I live in fear of the day, I let myself remember ...




I read another book by Alice Kuipers ... click here to check out my thoughts on it.

Thanks to the girls at Let the Words Flow for the book!!

And, to read more about my brother, click here.
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What I Have Been Afraid Of ...
Author: jill
•10:25 PM
Originally written in Oct/10, but not posted until now.

This has been a crazy week. In fact, the last six weeks have been crazy for me. It has taken some adjustment (by everyone) to get used to the idea of Jill Jones, University Student.

This past week I had one midterm, one quiz, and two essays due. So today, after I handed in the last essay, I decided that Addie C. and I should go out for lunch. To McDonald's, of course ... her favourite.

While we were eating, I asked her about school.

"So, Addie," I chatted, "are you still learning about apples at school?"

"Nope, that's all done now," she explained.

"Oh, I bet you'll talk about leaves soon," I told her, feeling fairly confident since I have been through the JK curriculum twice recently.

"Yeah, Mommy, we already do that," Addie told me. "It's called Fall."

"Oh, pardon me," I said. "I didn't realize you were so smart. I wonder if you'll go on a nature walk this year." I was sort of talking to myself, wondering if I could somehow swing tagging along as a parental helper.

"We already did that tomorrow," she informed me. Addie C. gets her "esterdays" mixed up with her tomorrows sometimes. "And me and Simone were partners. So we shared a bag and we go alot of leaves, too."

What? How could I not know about this?

This is what I have been afraid of.

There are things going on in my little girl's life that I don't know about. That I am not involved in. It's what I have been afraid of, and I was heartbroken.

When Caiden and Marnie were in JK, I dropped them off every day and picked them up every day. I talked to their teachers every day; I knew what was happening in the classrooms; I knew who was naughty and who was nice; and occasionally, I did things with the class.

But now, I am doing things in my own classroom. With my own classmates. It feels great being out there, back in the world, talking to people, learning new things. But sometimes I feel like I am missing out on the stuff with my own kids. Like the effortless chatter when they come through the door after school.

But I cannot just sit at home, in case something interesting happens at school, right? Or wait around with the hopes that I might get the chanve to help out on a nature walk. That would be crazy ... 

But still, this is what I have been afraid of ...
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Top 10 Reasons I'm Glad School is Back in Session
Author: jill
•8:48 PM
In September 2006, I brought my oldest child to a strange building full of strange people and left him there ... to find his own way in the world. I was filled such apprehension and anxiety ... I think, because I wanted him to love school so much. Like I did/do. And I wanted him to dazzle the strangers, just like has dazzled his father and I. I ached for him while he was away; he was constantly in my thoughts, hoping he was able to manage without me to help guide him. Pretty pathetic, huh?

Let me assure you, I have changed since those early days. In fact, I have twice the number of years of parenting excellence since then. And, I have a much different perspective.

Today was the first day of school for two of my three children. Number three came along for the ride, so she could check out her classroom and officially meet her JK teacher. Excitement abounded as we approached the school this morning ... oh, and the kids were pretty pumped, too.

It wasn't until the early 1800s that public education began to form in Canada. Prior to that, each family was responsible for educating their own children. Can you imagine the collective scream of joy on the day all the kids went to the first school? Woo-hoo!!

Although we each have our own reasons, I thought I would share the reasons I love school so much ...

(10) I get use the bathroom in private, without someone knocking on the door. Whether I am in there for two minutes or thirty, over the summer months it was a rare occasion if there was not a knock on the door ... usually because somebody wanted "something" (see #6).

(9) I can actually finish what I start ... all in a row, without interruptions. Many posts throughout the summer have been written one sentence at a time; but now, here I sit, typing away ... sentence after sentence.

(8) The quiet. I now hear the breeze through the trees, the hum of my laptop. Not that I don't love the sound of all those giggles, but I have listened to them for nine weeks in a row and am now taking some pleasure in the breeze outside my window.

(7) I don't have to watch Hannah Montana or The Wizards of Waverly Place until after five o'clock each day. Or, the Jonas Brothers. Ugh. I am sure they are all nice kids and stuff, but ... Plus, I know all the words to their songs and I'm starting to laugh at their jokes ... this is troublesome for me.

(6) The number of times that I hear, "Mom, can I (insert most annoying thing your child asks for here) ..." will be greatly reduced. Between the three of them, it seems as though they are at me most of the day for food, drinks, or suggesting fun activities ... like painting (a favourite amongst all girls, I think) or going to the park/beach/grandparents.

(5) My sense of guilt will decrease greatly ... guilt over being a boring Mom. It has been difficult to entertain three kids, all at different stages of development, each with their own interests. And, frankly, a mom's energy level diminishes over the course of the summer ... at least this mom's energy level does.

(4) Stuff that I organize will actually stay organized for longer periods of time. That right, toys will stay in their places and clothes will remain on their hangers in the closet.

(3) I don't have to eat at specific times. If I don't feel like eating lunch until 1:30pm, I can get all crazy and eat my lunch at 1:30pm! Breakfast and supper, however, will remain on schedule ...

(2) Speaking of schedules, I get to have a structure to my day ... which I love. I'll admit that it was harder and harder to jump out of bed (ready to take on the day) as the summer holidays drew to an end. But now, I'm back on track with time-specific goals that must be met!

(1) And, the #1 reason that I am glad it's back-to-school time, is the smiles that greet me at the end of the day. The smiles that assure me friends were played with, new things were learned. And when they can hardly wait to tell you about something really cool that happened at school ... I love when that happens, too.

So, I have my quiet back and I enjoyed a guilt-free coffee this morning. But between you and me, the real reason I am so happy school is back in session is because, if the kids are all back in school, it also means it is time for Mommy to go back to school.

Two days until my first day of school ... but who's counting?
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Chicken and Rice
Author: jill
•8:48 PM
We have standing joke in our family. Actually, the men in my family have a standing joke ... I don't think it is funny at all. Neither does my Mom.

When I was growing up,my Mom made chicken and rice casserole; she learned it from her mother. It was in the regular rotation of weekday meals and it was ALWAYS one of my favourites. In fact, if she made some spinach with it ... well, I was in heaven.

As an adult, I know that it is simple to make and you can even do all the prep work in the morning and throw it in the oven 30-40 minutes before you want to eat. Plus, it is easy on the budget. But as a kid, I just knew it tasted good.

And, so when I grew up and got married, I made it for my husband, too. Because it was easy on the pocket book of a newly-married couple and, more importantly, I loved it.

But, apparently, the husbands do not share the same level of adoration for the chicken and rice as the wives do. Probably because they are not in charge of every single week-day meal. Oh, they endured it and smiled appreciatively as they quietly choked back the delicious meal that had been placed in front of them. But they did not like it much ... apparently. And being the wonderful men that they are, they just suffered in silence.

Until recently ... when my Dad let it slip that he is not so fond of the chicken and rice casserole.

"Actually, it's not that I don't enjoy the taste," he explained, trying to dig himself out the hole he had just dug for himself. "It's just that I am so sick of it because it seems like it was all we ate when we were first married. So now, I've been eating it for almost forty-six years." My Dad really has a way with words, doesn't he?

"Yeah," Jonesy adds. "I was starting to think that chicken and rice was the only thing Jill knew how to cook when we first got married." Ummmm ... looks like Jonesy brought his own shovel. 

The boys had their chuckle. But I'm pretty sure I'll get the last laugh.

Throughout the summer, the kids and I have been learning about different places around the world. I found a (colouring) map of the world on the Internet, and each week we locate a new country, colour it in, and then we make the flag for that country. We have done crafts associated with that area of the world and learned about animals indiginous to that nation, as well.

However, the most fun part (for me) has been learning about the cuisine of all these undiscovered (to us) regions of the world. And the kids have enjoyed it as well ... learning what other kids around the world eat for breakfast is interesting, I guess. Caiden loves trying new foods ... and the girls do too, as long as it looks good and not weird. Which for two princesses can be almost anything they have not seen before.

This brings me back to chicken and rice. It seems as though every single country in the world has their own version of chicken and rice casserole. Spanish chicken and rice. Thai chicken stir-fry and jasmine rice. Pakistani chicken and basmati rice. It's everywhere ... everyone in the world loves chicken and rice. Except my Dad and my husband.

So, with each country we visit, we try chicken and rice. See? I told you I'd get the last laugh ... because we have not eaten this much chicken and rice in years. Try it ... pick a country (any country) - and I assure you there is a national "chicken and rice" dish associated with it.

But if you want to try the best chicken and rice casserole, make my Grama's recipe.

Chicken and Rice Casserole
     (By Grama Marnie Smyth)

~3lbs Chicken Pieces (use whatever you like - thighs, legs, (bone-in) breasts)
1 can Cream of Chicken soup
1 celery stalk, chopped
1 onion, chopped
1/4 tsp ground sage
1/4 tsp ground thyme
1 tsp dried parsley
Minute Rice (see recipe)

Season the chicken to your own tastes - salt, pepper, sage, etc. Bake the chicken in a large casserole, until cooked all the way through. Remove the chicken from the casserole dish and drain away the majority of the chicken fat; however, remember that the chicken fat will add lots of yummy flavour. If you are not eating straight away, cool and refrigerate the chicken until later.

Meanwhile, combine the can of soup with a can of water in a sauce pan. Add the celery, onions and spices; bring to a boil. Simmer for just a few minutes, and then, using the soup can as a measuring device, stir in two cans of Minute Rice. Pour the rice mixture into the casserole dish, scraping up all the little bits of chicken and flavour off the bottom.

Nestle the chicken on top of the rice and cover with a lid.

Bake in a preheated 350F oven for 30 minutes.

Serve with your favourite vegetables for a great family meal ... according to the ladies in my family.

Okay ... if you have been reading this blog for any length of time, I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you that I find Minute Rice absolutely appalling. So, I have messed around with this recipe, so that I could find a suitable substitute. I use the canned soup, diluted with one can of water plus the spices (never measured, just sprinkled); and to it I add almost one can of long grain rice (Basmati, or Jasmine, or just plain ol' rice). I will also add whatever vegies I think I can sneak past my kids ... shredded carrots, broccoli cut very small, cauliflower will sometimes blend in nicely ... what do your kids like? I bring it to a boil, and then pour into the casserole pan. I do not pre-cook the chicken; I raw chicken drumsticks or thighs. Cook at 375F for at least one hour, maybe even 1 1/2 hours. The result is a creamier rice. And you can use whatever soup you like ... Cream of Broccoli/Celery/Mushroom.
But, I have to admit ... every once in awhile I like to make my Grama's original, with a side of spinach.
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Reluctantly Growing Up
Author: jill
•11:41 AM
Once, when I was fourteen years old, my Mom asked me to "hang out" my Grama. Actually, she didn't ask me to, she told me that I had to.  You see, Grama had had a stroke and was confined to a wheelchair; and although I didn't understand all the reasons, my Mom and my Grampa did not want to leave her alone for fear she might need help with something. So, they always made sure someone was with her.

On this particular day, my Grampa had some business to attend to and although my Mom had promised to spend some time with Grama, she had a conflict. So, she insisted on me going to stay with my Grama. But I didn't want to. I wanted to stay home and talk on the phone or go over to a friend's house or re-do my hair or whatever it is fourteen-year-old girls like to do. I can remember arguing with my mother and insisting that I should not have to do things like that ... like babysitting a grandparent, that is. It was really not up for discussion though, because the fact remained that my Mom and my Grampa felt that someone should be with Grama.

Thinking back, I wonder if she would have enjoyed an hour to herself, without someone "there." Because that is all it was ... just an hour out of my very important fourteen-year-old life. And if you were paying attention, you will note that I said, "once" since this was not something asked of me on a regular basis. But, my Grama knew what was up ...

So, I put on my best (fake) smile and spent some time with my Grama. Whom I truly did adore, by the way. Grama taught me a lesson that day - one that I will never forget. The minute my Mom shut the door to leave, Grama called me over and handed me a ten dollar bill.

"Grama, what is this for?" I asked.

"Well, no young girl should have to babysit her Grama," she explained. "So, I figured I'd make it worth your while. I'm sure you have better things to do ..."

I have never been so ashamed of myself ... or humbled. I tried to give the money back, but she wouldn't hear of it. For me it was tainted guilt money and I hated having to take it. Plus, in 1983, ten dollars was a lot of money for one hour of work!

But it tells me the kind of woman that she was ... she was unselfish and empathetic and she was cool. Furthermore, I think she was embarrassed that she might need help (from others) to manage through her day ... a fourteen-year-old, no less.

Ironically, she had lost her independence at the same time I was trying to gain (master) mine.

I read Life on a Refrigerator Door by Alice Kuipers a couple of weeks ago, but am just writing about it now. It is the story of Claire, a fifteen-year-old girl, whose mother is diagnosed with breast cancer. And Claire is trying to be grown-up, but at the same time she just wants to be taken care of. She is a typical teenager, except that her mother is dying; and now, she has to be the grown-up ... but she doesn't always want to be.

This is one of the most cleverly written books I have come across in a long time. It took me only a little over an hour to read it ... which is great when you are trying to read 100 books in a year. It is a series of notes written between Claire and her mother ... notes left on the fridge. We've all done that, haven't we?

As a reader, you are asked to fill in some of the blanks because not all the details are given. But it's easy to do ... because it is so well-written you feel like you know these people. Trust me, I was sobbing by the end of the story ... Caiden was a little concerned for me.

As a woman, you will relate to this story on two levels ... as a teenager, and as a Mom. And, I'm not sure which one is more difficult. Losing a parent as a teenager is so difficult ... and Claire is such a wonderful young lady that you cannot help but worry for her. You want her to be okay. As a parent, you are divided between your need to care for your child and the need to care for yourself ... and when fighting cancer, it is difficult to do either really well.

Alice Kuipers was born in London, England but moved to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan in 2003. She is married to Yann Martel, who you might know because he wrote the incredible Life of Pi ... such a great read!!! You have read it, right? Didn't you love the ending? So clever, so surprising, so incredibly good. I love a story that surprises me at the end. And you might be interested to know that Life of Pi is being made into a movie, slated for release in 2012.

Anyhow, there must be some real creative juices cookin' at their house!

Kuipers seems like the kind of girl you would like to hang out with ... just a down-to-earth girl who enjoys the same things you and I do. She has a young baby, whom it seems she is currently caught up in. Oh, and she has had another book published, Lost for Words.

Kuipers has a great blog that I love ... especially if you enjoy writing as a creative outlet. Check it out sometime ...
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Into the Future
Author: jill
•10:23 AM
Tonight, I had a glimpse. You know, a glimpse of what the future might be like. A glimpse of that feeling a mother gets when her child accomplishes something (really wonderful) all by themselves.

Don't get me wrong, I have experienced it ... but in a limited sort of way. Like, the time Marnie learned a new song school. A song that I did not know ... in French. And, as she sang it to Jonesy and I, we exchanged one of those "how-does-she-know-this?" looks. Or, today, when Caiden explained to me that people who have strokes often suffer from a "droop" on one side of their mouths ...

"Caiden, that is exactly what happens," I said. "How do you know that?" I am expecting him to say that he heard Nana talk about it, or he read about it on Wikipedia.

"I saw it on Family Guy," he explained. Ugh.

Okay, so maybe that was not a moment of parental pride.

But you know what I am talking about ... it's that feeling you get inside when your child does something all by him/herself.

The other night, we had a Big Boy movie night with Caiden while Marnie had a "vacation (from Addie)" at Nana's house. We watched The Karate Kid, starring Jaden Smith. It is so sweet, with a great message. In fact, I am no longer "allowed" to say that Jaden (or the female (adolescent) lead) is adorable; but between you and me, I wanted to hug and kiss them a whole bunch.

Essentially, it is the same story as the original, starring Ralph Macchio and Mr. Miyagi, but different and updated. Dre Parker (Jaden Smith) moves from Detroit, Michigan to China, with his mother. He is out of his element and finds himself being bullied by some local boys. The (apartment) building maintenance man (Jackie Chan) decides to teach Dre about the art of authentic kung fu. Jackie is sweet and patient and emotional ... as he teaches Dre the one thing that he has an appreciation for. Jaden Smith is adorable and cool and so likeable - but remember, I am not allowed to say that!

As he reached (inevitable) success, I could only think that one day, I would be watching as my children did the same. Maybe not in a kung fu tournament (please, not in a kung fu tournament), but success none the less. And the emotion that filled me as I watched this fictional character would only pale in comparison to the emotion I would feel when it is my own child, right?

It is some kind of weird mixture of pride and arrogance and self-satisfaction and separation. Because it is amazing when they learn something that you did not teach them, isn't it? I mean, how could they learn something if I did not teach it to them? I think this is part of my problem ... this strange idea that only I can teach them the things they need to know ...

You're beginning to feel sorry for my kids, aren't you?

I want all these things for my kids ... the independance, the knowledge, the "finding who they are." But I don't want to miss one second of it ... I really don't. I would feel like I was missing out on something absolutely incredible ... I would feel like I was missing out on them.

Maybe because I am looking to learn something about myself at the same time.

But I guess they must find their own way, and I have to find mine.

But what if we go in completely different directions?

This is the fear that I live with ... because then, I will be alone.

So, for now, I am going to enjoy teaching them the things I know because one day soon, they will be teaching me things they know. And, the things they can do.





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We Grew up in That Water
Author: jill
•4:09 PM
On June 19th, he would have been thirty-eight years old. He would be a man now. And on the day that he would have turned thirty-eight years old, I stood in the same lake that took him from us for the first time in the twenty-one years that he has been gone.

On June 11, 1989, at about 7:50am, there was a knock at the door. I can assure you that if you get an unexpected knock on the door early in the morning, it cannot be good news. I was faced with a police officer, who told my father and I that my brother was missing, and presumed drowned. My mother was hosting a class reunion and had spent the night at a local hotel with her nursing classmates. It would be another hour before she would know her son was gone. Which was okay because obviously, there had been some kind of mistake. Your brain is an amazing organ because its main function is to protect you from the things that you are unable to deal with; and in this case, my brain told me that there must have been some kind of mistake ... because my brother was both an outdoorsman and an excellent swimmer. I found out later that my Mom's brain was working in the same manner as mine because when they arrived at the beach, she made my Dad search through all the long weeds along the shore. She was sure that he had reached the beach but was too exhausted to call out for help. Yes, your brain works hard to protect you.

However, there had not been a mistake, and we were eventually forced to face the reality that he was gone. For each member of my family, our lives changed in that instant.

The beach that my brother had spent his last hours of life was the same beach that we had grown up on. In a previous post I mentioned that my parents owned a cottage just outside Rondeau Provincial Park on Lake Erie. We grew up in that water ... we swam at dusk in that water, we had contests to see who could hold their breath the longest in that water, my Uncle gave us 100-pounders in that water, we swam in rain storms in that water, we had races out to the sand bar in that water, and we swam when that water was so rough that we could body surf the waves, pretending we were real surfers like the ones in California. And it was fun ... in fact, perhaps it was a time when I was actually carefree. We grew up in that water. So, you see, it seems impossible to believe that same water could hurt us. Consequently, as I stood there more than twenty years later, watching that same water wash over my feet as my own children played and splashed one another, I tried not to imagine the day that same water had spit him out onto the shore for some poor young mother to happen across on a walk with her little boy, almost two weeks after he had gone missing. 

His canoe capsized after they had paddled out too far in the lake. The police later told us that his friend reported they could no longer see the shore, and decided that they should turn the canoe around. This was a fatal error. His friend made it to shore; my brother did not.

And so, I have not been back there since his death ... to the same Rondeau Park that had brought me such great times as a child. In fact, while my parents visited that beach every day until he was found - waiting for news from the police search and rescue-turned-recover  team - I could never make myself go, except for their last day of searching. I arrived in time for them to call the search off.

About a month ago, my parents announced they had reserved a campsite at Rondeau Provincial Park and they wanted my family to join them for Father's Day weekend. I am not an avid camper ... I am more of a "shower-every-day, avoid-the-humidity-at-all-costs" kind of girl who can appreciate a fun campfire. However, if I push all my aversion to camping aside, it was really the idea of visiting that place again. That place that had taken by little brother away. It might seem strange but consider your feelings if you had to visit the exact hospital room where a loved one had died ... how would you feel? Overwhelmed? Sad? Perhaps, relief that suffering was over? Whatever the emotion, you cannot hide ... I was no longer able to avoid thinking about that force of nature that swooped down and took away a life. A life that was very important to me.

But, a strange thing happened. I felt relaxed at Rondeau Provincial Park. I felt reassured and comfortable; everything was familiar. The big dock ... still had lots of fisherman on it. The little grocery store where you could get an ice cream cone is still there ... it's been fixed up a bit, but it is still there. The cottage my grandparents once rented is still there. The house my parents built when I was three years old is still there. The Nature Museum is still there. And yes, our old cottage ... although greatly modernized and expanded ... is still there. Some things are gone ... most notably, my Grampa's dance hall ... but everything was familiar.

And so, I found myself overcome with emotion but not overcome with sadness. Don't get me wrong, that beach will always invoke great emotion in me. But I felt more happiness from the memories that surfaced about my time spent there as a kid, with my brother, than sadness that would warrant me avoiding this place that been so important to our family. I had some unexplained flashes of things that I could not fully remember, and some things came to mind that I had not thought of in years: like the (imagination-inspired) games we used to play in the forest around our cottage, and the beach parties, and the little secret fishing hole where you could always find my brother with his fishing rod and a small container of left-over corn kernals ... that was his secret bait, but I don't think he would mind if I told you.

I wonder if it was his presence I felt out there? Maybe it was him that made me feel okay. Do you think that could happen?

His name was Joel and I still miss him every day. He would have turned thirty-eight years old this past Saturday. Wish he could have come camping with us to celebrate. Wish he could have known his nephew and nieces. I just wish so many things.
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The Journey Along the Pathway of Life
Author: jill
•10:40 PM
The other night I awoke from a dream laughing and felt extremely happy. Like, over-the-top elated with happiness. I did not feel stress or worry or pressure to get something done. It was like I was in a bubble and couldn't hear anything from the outside world. I felt carefree and without concern for anything. It was freeing, this sense of happiness.

I haven't felt that kind of unburdened joy in quite some time.

This is not to say that I am in a deep depression and walking around in a constant state of gloominess. But I am saying that I always have something on my mind and something I need to get done ... what to make for school lunches, a book to read, a temper tantrum to resolve, a snack to prepare, an errand to run. I am saying that I am a Mom responsible for three young children. I am happy, but I am not carefree. In fact, I'm not sure that I have ever been carefree ... it's sort of how my brain operates.

Are you happy with your life? Are you doing what you want to do with it? Are you spending your time in a way that makes you feel good (inside)? Do you do things with a sense of purpose, or do you do them because you feel like you should?

Recently I read No Impact Man by Colin Beavan, and wrote about his project to live for one year without having any impact on the environment. Click here, if you want a refresher.

One of things that Beavan discovers (quite unexpectedly, I might add) while living an impact-free life are the things that really make him happy. He learns about what things he truly enjoys doing. He begins by recounting a typical day ... he rushes around in the morning to get his daughter to her babysitter; then he rushes off to work; he works through his day, often spending ten hours at his craft, and sometimes becoming impatient for the work day to end; and then he rushes to get his daughter from the babysitter; on his way home he picks up the take-out du jour for supper and then continues home to get his little princess fed, bathed and tucked in for the night. He and his wife then share a night in front of the television and their laptops simultaneously until they are finally ready to go to sleep. And then they get up the next morning to start all over again.

Sound familiar?

But while working on the No Impact Project, he took the time to consider whether he felt happy about how he was living his life. Not just with regard to the environment, but with respect to how he spent his time. Why did he work for ten hours a day, when seven or eight was enough? Why didn't he take his little girl to the park more often? He tries to answer his own questions by suggesting that people work long hours so that they can buy stuff or do stuff or pay off stuff. Because the more stuff you buy or the more fabulous (and by fabulous, I mean expensive) the vacation, the happier you feel, right?

Psychologists refer to this phenomenon as the hedonic treadmill. When you buy something, it gives you a burst of pleasure. It makes you feel good, this thing you have purchased. Likely, you are excited because it is something that interests you or will make your life easier in some way. I feel this way after buying a book ... before I am even finished reading the book I bought, the thrill wears off and I am looking for the next one.

Beavan considers (in a very clever and unassuming way) whether he is spending his free time in a way that makes him feel fulfilled. Does rushing around until you literally drop on the couch each evening make him feel fulfilled? Does it make you? Could you be happy with the things you have currently, without having to travel around town all the time, picking "stuff" up or dropping "stuff" off? Do you ever do things because you think you should, or to keep up with your neighbours or your co-workers or your friends? Do these things that you feel obligated to do make you feel happy inside? Are they necessary for existence? For instance, is it really necessary to have really super green grass? Or, the biggest television money can buy? Or, a new car every three years?

That is a lot of questions to ask yourself. And you might not like the answers, if you are honest with yourself.

For me, it is the reasoning behind the decision. If you really enjoy gardening and take pride in your yard/landscaping/garden, then ... yes, it is necessary for you to have super green grass. Because it fills you with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment, and you enjoy working on it. But should you feel obligated to make your grass as green as your neighbour's? Or your Dad's? Or your friend's?

And, if you feel the need to run out and buy a pair of very expensive shoes because a colleague at work bought a pair, then I question your motives. Unless shoes are your sole reason for existing.

Beavan recalls rushing to get to the park, so his daughter could start to have fun. He was almost pushing her along the sidewalk and became frustrated when she stopped to play with a chain hanging off a fire hydrant. But it was then that he realized his daughter was already having fun.Because, sometimes, it is the walk to the park that is the fun part.

Could it be that the real excitement we all crave is in the journey along the pathway of life? Not in the destination?

Why can't we enjoy the here and now? I realize that we all have to earn a paycheque in order to survive, but we don't have to make earning money the centre of our world. We don't have to rush through life, trying to get more; instead, we could just enjoy ourselves. Why did I have to challenge myself to read one hundred books? Why couldn't I just enjoy them at whatever was a comfortable pace? I'll tell you why ... because I was looking for the burst of excitement that comes from accomplishing something other than seven loads of laundry all in one day.

The thing is ... psychologists have learned that the happiest people are those who do not live on the hedonic treadmill. They enjoy what is happening in their lives now. They do not live for tomorrow. And they do not buy things to make themselves feel good about what themselves. They do not feel obligated to do things ... they do them because they want to.

It is hard to be different from others though. I think it is a natural instinct (for most people) to want to be liked; to want to fit in with everyone else. Probably because it is easier; but also because when you buy a new patio set and your friends all tell you how much they like it, you probably mistake that for them really liking you, too. And it makes you feel good. So sometimes it is difficult to do what is right for you when it makes you stand out from everyone else. For instance, what if you didn't want to have a patio set in your backyard, like all your friends? Instead, you decided scatter lawnchairs around your yard and to refurbish an (old-fashioned) picnic table for those nights its not too hot to eat outside. Would you feel self-conscious because it is different from all your friends' backyards?

I believe that it is much easier when you do something because you strongly believe in it, rather than because you are forced to. Perhaps it makes you feel good to refurbish something, instead of buying something new because it has become important for you to re-use and re-cycle. Beavan had a self-realization every time he found a way to get what he wanted without having to buy something new ... like his refurbished bike. However, you may not have the same feeling if the reason you did not purchase the new patio set that you love so much was because you were unable to afford to.

Am I making any sense? I feel like this is a mix-up of the many thoughts spewing out of my brain.

When I was an infant, I had an infection in my shoulder. The infection caused damage to the bone and the way that it would develop. I was lucky that the infection set in my shoulder instead of my hip ... but I do not feel lucky because it makes my body different from yours. One of my arms is more than four inches shorter than the other, and the range of motion is restricted. Sometimes it is not noticeable at all; other times, I'm sure it is all people can see - depends on what I am wearing and doing. Jonesy has always said that it is part of who I am and I should embrace it but I would do anything to make it go away because it makes me different from you. Of course, it is much easier to deal with now, as an adult, but there were some very upsetting times when I was growing up. I have been forced (by Mother Nature or Fate or some other natural force) to deal with an arm that makes me different (for my whole life) ... but I don't believe in it. I don't want to do it.

However, I do strongly believe that the state of our food supply and its production is atrocious and I would talk about it until I was blue in the face if I thought I could make a difference. I don't mind telling you that I am willing to pay a little more for a food item if it is organic or local or nutritionally sound ... even if it means I buy a little less. I don't mind telling you that giving my children carbonated drinks or KoolAid is unthinkable. I look forward to picking blueberries with my kids in the summer ... because it is fun and because I gain some satisfaction in harvesting the food we are going to eat. I don't mind telling you that I make the majority of our food from scratch ... please note that I am not telling you that I always enjoy doing it, but just that I do it. And I don't mind telling you these things because I feel very strongly about them and I don't care if that makes me different from other people. It is important to me. However, I have been questioned about my strong ideas with regard to my food choices and talked about behind my back ... because I do not choose to give my children sugary drinks and prefer organic, locally grown food if I can find it. But I don't care.

As Beavan takes away all the modern conveniences and technology, he begins to realize what is important to him. For the first time in his life, he actually prepares food for their meals ... and he enjoys doing it. He learns that television is really not all that important. He learns about really doing things with his time, and the art of conversation ... with people instead of keyboard. He wrote, "Four weeks after the project began, we weren't just changing the way we lived; changing the way we lived was changing us."

So, I ask you ... are you enjoying the here and now? Are you making the most of your free time? Are you doing what is right for you, even if it makes you a little different from your friends?

It is in this spirit of relishing the journey along the pathway of life that I share some exciting news ... I am returning to University of Windsor to study Creative Writing and Literature, working toward a Masters Degree. I have found a real love for writing, and I want to learn more about it. I want to study the great writers and I want to learn more techniques. I want to broaden my knowledge and investigate whether I could actually earn some $money$ as a writer. As is usually the case with me, I feel like education is the place to start ... the publishing industry, the art of writing, the History of Language. Yes, that is the actual name of a course I will be taking. Okay, maybe I'm a little more interesting in Creative Writing I, but I will endure learning the History of Language if it will get me where I need to be. And who knows, maybe I will enjoy learning the history of language. After all, I do love words.

And so where does this new turn of events leave my challenge? Let's be honest, I was probably not going to read one hundred books in one year. However, I will continue to read over the summer, and blog as I go. But the pace is sure to slow because my kids want me to conduct a summer school of sorts ... more about that on another day.

And, I'm hoping to be able to find the time for my blog while I learn more about Creative Writing ... a professor has already warned me that two of my four courses are very "writing" heavy, but I'm sure I'll have time for a few Addie C. stories at least. After all, she starts school in September, too. And wherever Addie C. goes, a story is sure to follow.

So, don't give up on me if I have not written for a few days. I love this too much to walk away from it.
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No Right Answer
Author: jill
•10:57 AM
Recently there was a movie added to the OnDemand Movies feature of our Cable television. It is a movie that I do not have the strength to watch. I just don't need that kind of emotional stress in my life.

Last summer, my mother-in-law brought me My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult.

"Jill," she said, "I thought that you would really like this. Read it and tell me what you think."

So, I fondled it, as I like to do before reading and had a fleeting thought that this story might be a little too much for me to handle. Children who get cancer cannot make for a "feel-good" kind of story. But I wanted to read it anyway. Something about it drew me in ... the legal aspects, perhaps. Maybe I needed a good cry. Or the medical issues. Something.

By the time I got to the end of the book, I was an emotional wreck. I sobbed openly while reading the last couple of chapters, sending all my children into another room so that I could grieve in private. Poor Caiden had a (real) panic attack because he thought there was something really wrong with me. And I guess there was ... I had a broken heart.

In case you live in a cave and you have not heard about this story, I will give you a quick recap. Well, nothing is really "quick" about me but I'll try my best.

Kate is three years old when she is diagnosed with a grave form of cancer - leukemia, I think. The only hope is a perfect match as a donor; when Kate's older brother is disqualified, Kate's parents conceive another child in the hopes of producing a donor - which raises the first moral question.

Should people have babies to save other babies? I guess there are many reasons for a person to have a child. Maybe giving life to save a life isn't the worst reason ... but is it a good reason? I am sitting here, up on the fence, because I honestly don't know if there is a "right" answer to that question.

In the beginning, the only thing that was to be donated was the cord blood ... rich in platelets and other great stuff needed to fight off the cancer in Kate's blood. But as the years go by, little Anna becomes a human donor machine. It has been some time since I read this story, but if I can remember correctly Anna donated "stuff" to her sister several times; until it seemed as though if Kate had dry eyes, her mother would call Anna into the room and they would extract some tears from her.

The story really begins when Anna is eleven years old, and Kate is in need of a kidney. All of the other treatments she has endured have placed undue stress on her kidneys, and without a transplant she will die. But the decision has been made that Anna will provide the kidney. However, she does not want to be a donor for her sister any more so she hires herself an attorney in the hopes of winning medical emanicipation from her parents. She wants to be able to make the decisions regarding which medical treatments she will participate in.

The novel explores the legal questions/problems associated with this unprecedented situation ... as well as the moral/ethical issues. And don't forget about the impact on the rest of the family ... the ongoing illness as well as the impending legal decision. It really is a great read, if you can stand the emotional stress.

At the end of the story - and this is the part where I got a little hysterical - Anna wins emancipation; but only after she is forced to confess that it is Kate who does not want the treatments any longer. So, Anna is granted medical emancipation and she does not have to act as a donor for her sister. On her way from the Court House to the Hospital (in her lawyer's car) to tell her sister the news, they are struck and Anna is killed. That's right, she is declared brain dead in the ER.

But she is a candidate for organ donation.

So, in the end, she saves her sister's life and quite possibly, the lives of some other children. And we are left thinking that the sole purpose of this eleven-year-old child's life was to act as a supplier of bodily materials and parts. Little Anna took on the weight of the world in keeping her sister's secret and defying her mother's wishes, all the while knowing that her family was being pulled apart. But she did it for her sister ... just like she had done for her whole life.

My thoughts turned to Anna's mother. She is a desperate woman who cannot see past the goal of saving Kate. In fact, when Anna was born she admitted to herself that she was not interested in her new baby at all; but only in what she could give to her dying sister. It was as though she had created a "thing" instead of a person. A supplier. Kate's mother is blinded in her attempt to save her daughter; she cannot think in any terms other than saving Kate. Which I get. However, she lost all perspective with respect to what is in the best interests of everyone. Including Kate. I liken it to being in some sort of tunnel, where it is dark and small; and the light at the end is reached each time the current crisis is dealt with. Until the next hurdle, when the confining darkness descends and a solution must be found. I have felt this way before. Things are coming at you and all you can do react. Deal with each thing as it comes; but you lose perspective because you are too busy trying to come up with a quick fix. 

Don't we all understand the mother's desperation. I mean, if someone told me that one of my children was critically ill, I would do anything to save him/her. Anything. I would cut off my own arm, I would sell my soul, I would scream, I would beg, I would run around in a circle seventy-three times if I thought it would help. Anything. And, I am willing to bet that you feel exactly the same way that I do. When my Caiden was in the NICU, I would have done anything to help him. But all I could do was smother him with love ... which, luckily, I am very, very good at.

And, I also understand that knowing one of your children had something that could help another one of your children would be a huge influencing factor. If one of your daughter's had yellow shoes, and the other daughter needed yellow shoes, and they wore the same size, I would insist that the girls share their shoes. However, this was not sharing shoes. It was sharing DNA and organs. So, I understand this push (by the mother) to help but I don't know if I agree with it. It seems as though some of us need to always find a solution for the problem, no matter what it is. And finding the solution becomes more important than the actual impact of executing the solution. As a parent, I would need to know that I had thought of every possible way to fix the problem. I had done everything that I could to save my baby.

But poor little Anna grew up feeling as though she was nothing more than a donor. She was on hold until a part of her was needed for Kate. Did she feel loved by her mother?

There are children that have been born for the exact same reason as Anna. For real. And, how are they coping with their role in their family? Do they feel loved?

When my children ask me why I wanted a baby, I can give them all sorts of reasons. I had an inexplicable need to become a mother; I desperately wanted to experience pregnancy and giving birth; I wanted to snuggle a baby of my very own; I wanted to teach someone about the world; I wanted to be surrounded by a family of my very own. And, after I had my first baby, I wanted another one because the first one brought me a joy that I did not know existed. And I wanted a third one because if two brought me that much joy, imagine the delight I would experience from three little miracles.

However, I cannot imagine explaining to my child that I had it because I needed an organ donor.

But having said all that ... I can understand why parents might do it. Or consider it.

There is no right answer.

My Sister's Keeper (the movie) is OnDemand. But I don't think I can watch it. And so, even though it has almost been a year, these are my thoughts on this book.

I bet my mother-in-law is sorry she asked.

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The First Sign of Summer
Author: jill
•12:40 PM
It's Wednesday ... and it's suppose to be wordless. However, I have been kinda quiet lately, don't you think? So, I am pretty sure that I cannot be wordless today.

Luckily, that doesn't mean that I cannot have lots of pictures, too.

We spent our Victoria Day much the same as families all over Canada, I suppose. The kids played at the park, Mommy did a little laundry and Daddy did a little barbequing.

But the sure sign that summer has arrived is that we made S'mores for dessert.



Begin with excellent ingredients. Graham Crackers, chocolate, and of course, marshmallows. A couple of things about ingredients - don't be afraid to get creative. Caiden has life-threatening allergies to nuts, so finding chocolate has been a bit of challenge. I will have to admit to having used chocolate chips in the past; however, (my hero) Jonesy found some chocolate wafers at The BulkBarn. They were perfect and I would recommend checking them out if you make S'mores at your house. We used milk chocolate for the kids, and dark chocolate for us adults ... 'cause we're sophisticated n' stuff. I would also recommend using chocolate with nuts, if you are lucky enough to be able to do so. Don't tell my kids, but I have used chocolate with almonds after they have gone to bed. What? Parents do stuff that is fun after their kids go to sleep? Like I said ... don't tell on me. In place of graham crackers, I have tried Simple Pleasures cookies. The spice snaps with melty chocolate and gooey marshmallow ... well, do I need to say any more? Or, the social teas? Or the chocolate wafers?

In any case, gather all your ingredients and head outdoors. Don't forget a glass of wine ... red compliments the chocolate so nicely.



Now, Daddy takes over because he is the king of barbeque. And I readily support this because then I can relax and enjoy my kids and a glass of wine ... not always in that particular order.



While Daddy perfectly toasts the marshmallows, have someone in your family entertain you with interesting stories or absurd questions. This time, Caiden read his latest story to us. He just read Diary of a Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney as was inspired to write a diary of his own. My favourite part is the "Copywrite 2010" ... look closely and you'll see it.



Finally, the S'mores are ready to eat.





Three happy kids = One Happy Mommy + One Happy Daddy



Now, in some cases, it is necessary to forego the boring graham cracker and just get the good stuff in the middle. Which I think pretty much exemplifies Addison's life.



Then, after you're all done, you get to just relax. And be kinda silly ... which is really what a holiday is all about, isn't it?
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Gardening with the Jones'
Author: jill
•6:51 PM
There is a reason the Jones' do not enjoy gardening.

For us, gardening is something that we have to do. Cutting the grass, trimming the bushes, watering, fertilizing ... these are things we do because we have to, not because we enjoy them.

And often when we do these things, something goes wrong. Once, after gardening, I pulled the muscles in my back and was horizontal for a week ... a week of vacation. Ugh. I have over-trimmed those aforementioned bushes. I have forgotten to water planters ... I have over-watered planters. I have neglected to even put in planters.

Today, Jonesy did some gardening. He cut our Cable wire trying to dig up some weeds. I know what you are thinking ... you are shocked that we would have weeds. But, we do. Well, not any more because he dug them up ... along with our Cable wire.

So, we are now without technology ... no television, no land line phone service, no Internet. It could be sort of freeing ... but not on the twenty-nineth day of a personal goal to blog every day for an entire month. This, my friends, is life with the Jones'. Nothing is easy. Nothing.

But Jonesy came to the rescue, as he usually does in emergencies. Because this was an emergency for me. I wanted to meet my goal ... I just wanted to meet one goal I had set for myself. Jonesy suggested that we go out for supper, to a restaurant that offered free WiFi.

Now do you see why I married him? Working toward my goal and not having to cook supper. This whole "cutting the Cable" thing has definitely worked out to be in my favour.

So, as I type this, the Jones family is enjoying a not very relaxing supper at Bubi's Awesome Eats. Jonesy is trying to entertain the kids by counting as fast as he can. The waitress keeps looking at us with that "Don't-Your-Kids-Need-to-Get-Home-to-Bed" look. Not until I get this post done, lady. Not. Until. This. Post. Is. Done.

In the meantime, there will be no more gardening for Jonesy until May 1st ... which will be fine with him, I'm sure.
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Do You Know Why Reading is Important?
Author: jill
•9:08 PM
Last night, while eating supper, Caiden had a question. Caiden has many questions ... but that is another story for another day.

"Mom, do you know why reading is important?" he asked.

"No, I don't. Why don't you tell me," I answered him. I love to hear my kids' perspectives on the world.

"Well, it's important because you get to learn new words," he explained. "Like ... words you have never used before."

"That is very true," I agreed. "Reading can really help expand your vocabulary." He smiled, happy to have found something we agree upon - it is important to Caiden that we are like-minded.

I went on to tell him that when I was a child, I read all the time. And, because I read all the time, I was reading novels at an early age. But, sometimes, I did not know what the words meant; that is, there were times that I could not define specific words. However, I always got the gist. Caiden found this interesting.

"You mean, you didn't know what every word meant?" he asked. When we read together, he ALWAYS stops me if he has not heard the word before or is unsure of its meaning. Always. He is a perfectionist and an avid learner, and so he must always know the answer. This is not always a good thing.

"Nope."

"Well, how did you know what the story was about?" he wanted to know.

"Well, I would read the whole sentence or paragraph and come to an understanding of what the writer was trying to describe," I explained. There are many ways to learn and I think that I benefited greatly from developing the ability to get the gist. You do not have to understand every single word to understand the message or to get the point.

Caiden is eight years old and an extraordinary reader. He thinks that the other children in his class are pathetic readers, but what he doesn't understand is that there are many adults who do not read aloud as well as he does. He reads with inflection and emphasis ... I love listening to him.

So why does he insist on me reading to him each night? He doesn't need me to read his story anymore, and he doesn't need my help to learn to read. And yet, he insists that we read together each night.

In just about any situation, I have found that if you want to know the answer to a question, the best way to find out ... is to just ask. So I did. And do you know what he said? "Because I like to have time with only you and me. It's our special time, Mommy."

Now, you can't really argue with that, can you?

And, I love that he is articulate enough to put it into words - at the age of eight years old.

I recently read an article in the New York Times about the importance of reading with your child. And, as Caiden pointed out, it's not just to teach your child to read ... it is important for many different reasons.

The article tells the story of a single father, with two daughters, who just happens to be a Librarian. When his oldest daughter was in the 4th Grade, she announced that she no longer wanted to read with her Dad. Jim Brozina was heart-broken and became determined to find a way to keep his younger daughter, Kristen, interested in reading with him. So, when she entered into Grade 4, he came up with The Streak ... a challenge to read together for 100 bedtimes in a row. While celebrating their success over pancakes, Kristen suggested that they extend The Streak ... to 1000 nights. And, when they eventually met that goal, it seemed impossible to stop.

So, Jim Brozina and his daughter, Kristen, read together every single night from November 11, 1997 until September 2, 2006 - Kristen's first day of College. She has gone on to win National writing contests and has been accepted into the Masters in Liberal Arts program at the University of Pennsylvania. He continues to spread the good news about the importance of reading. To read the entire New York Times article, click here. It is a wonderful story.

The one thing that stands out in my mind, however, is that when everything else was crazy or unpredictable in her life, Kristen could alway count on The Streak. It was a constant. And sometimes, children need that reassurance. Let's be honest, we can all use some things in our lives that we can count on.

It is a really simple thing - reading each night - but it held such an importance in Brozina family. Such importance, in fact, that they each made many sacrifices to keep their nightly ritual.

So, when you read to your child each night, know that it is about more than just the reading part. They look forward to spending time with you. And they remember it as special time you spent together.

So, do you know why reading is important?
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