summer fun

And so it begins.

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We are here. The end of Summer break, the end of vacation, and the start of something new. I love the Fall, with its’ crisp mornings and cozy sweater weather. I got married in September: fifteen years ago, on a day where it rained around the majority of the city, but miraculously, not on our waterfront slice of heaven.

On the cusp of Labour Day we turn our attention as a family to the coming weeks: football practice, swimming lessons, ultimate and more importantly, homework. We are working together as a family to set everyone up for success: nutritious meal planning, grab-and-go (GF)meal prep, and successful studies.

It’s going to be a full term. Our September calendar is already full, handled expertly by the good people at Google. It will be busy but fun, and full of new friends, new sports and new communities.

We are ready. Clothes are cleaned and re-stocked, the uniform is named, new shoes sitting at the door. We are blessed to be able to do this; I know many families are not able to approach back to school with the same shiny newness.

I look forward to the coming months, and all the new adventure that it will bring our family. I will also consciously remember to breathe deeply through the anxiety, take a minute to reflect and just enjoy the moment.

And so it begins.

And so it begins.

Changes afoot…

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The weather turned today, from the long hot days of August, to waking up to the cool, soothing sound of a gentle (but persistent) August rain.  The plants sure need it:  my Magnolia tree in the back yard is showing the stress.  The new Dogwood  would be happy to flourish with some extra rain.

The sound of rain, the cooler temperatures, the need to snuggle under a blanket is just one more reminder of the major changes about to come to the house.  Back to School is screaming at us from around the corner, we are T-minus 12. Days. Away.

The kids know it, but so far it is only bringing fun things, new things.  There is a new row of shoes at the front door, fresh clothes in drawers, and the shiny promise of fresh stationary.  They are still in bedtime denial, pushing and pushing until well after ten o’clock.  We are trying to pull bedtimes and get them up earlier, but so far, it has been totally ineffective.  And I am not pushing too hard, yet.  I know they have this week, and then the real real reality will set in, and we will be locked in a punishing schedule soon enough.

We return this Fall to two schools and another year of split-focus.  While we await the younger one’s acceptance at his Brother’s school, we are a two-community family, split between two cities, two schools, and two very different schedules.

‘A’ starts football next week, and practices will run daily after school.  It will mean getting home later, doing homework while we make dinner, and going to bed soon after.  It will be a push of discipline and precision timing.   ‘a’ is taking a break from team sports and will instead swim after school, and join his local cross country.   The little brother will not see the sheer volume of work his older brother will, so for now he can continue to ease in.  For the older one, it will be another seismic shift towards learning discipline, responsibility, and effort after the Summer.

For now, however, I am going to take my coffee onto the deck, sit under the tent, and enjoy the last sounds of the Summer.

 

 

Changes afoot…

Artichokes and other memories…

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I was blessed with a childhood full of unique experiences. I was fortunate to be exposed to many unusual situations that were not typical for a child.

My grade four year found my Mom and I transferred to Toronto for work. It was a new adventure, a new school, totally new climate and a much bigger city.

Toronto found us hunting for a home, and a new space to set down roots. Mum was in the hotel industry, and while we hunted, the company put us up in one of their properties right downtown. We were steps from Yonge Street, and the giant spinning vinyl of Sam The Record Man.

I discovered a new school, set in such an urban environment that the play-yard was on the roof and classes were set in a three-story brick building. This was very urban living.

We ate most meals at the hotel. Every evening after work and school, we would come down to the main dining room, an opulent space overstuffed, plush and heavily draped. The kitchen packed my lunch for me daily: a bountiful selection of sandwiches, pastries, fruit and cheese: far too much for a 9-year old child. totally blessed.

I never had the palette of a child: part of my exposure to my Mom’s workplace meant the unusual and the uncommon.

A regular starter at dinner was steamed artichokes dipped in butter. We would begin our meals with these earthy beauties, steamed a deep green, accompanied by a heavenly swirl of clarified butter. We would slowly peel off layer by layer, revealing the tender hearts: saving the heart of the matter until last.

The children had never experienced steamed artichokes, and we experimented with them last night. I set out dishes of clarified butter, along with a balsamic vinegar aioli.

The younger one took a stab at peeling off the fibrous layers to get to the little nibble at each petal base, and flatly rounded at me with a quick but firm “No.”

The elder one tolk a stab at it, and discovered the unctuous plant-based umami of the inner layers. It became a conundrum. He couldn’t figure out if he liked or didn’t like it. But he kept going back for more.

The elusive artichoke had bested another generation…and won.

And, it was (of course) gluten-free.

Artichokes and other memories…

Fly, my little birdies!

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The kids are away, the parents will play…..well, sort of.  While the kids are with their Grandmother for two weeks, we are at home working and getting to all those silly little niggly jobs around the house that never seem to get done in the daily chaos of raising a family.  Romantic and exciting jobs, like snaking the tub drain, painting the stairs, and tidying up the never-ending piles of randomness that accumulate overnight.

The kids, meanwhile are living their best life.  They are exploring multiple beaches, gathering pounds of sand in their shoes and pockets.  They are panning for gold, and exploring caves.  They are learning about the fishing history of the East Coast, and discovering one of the last cable ferries around.   They are fishing for mackerel off of the dock.  They are having a fantastic trip.

I put my heart in my throat when I saw them off at the airport, but it was an important step:  the two of them learning to travel together, without killing each other, and learning to have each others’ backs. ( A lesson that will take them through their later years, and hopefully teach them that they are each others’ first friends.)  And the kids shined.  They successfully navigated their way across our beautiful country into the arms of their Grandmother, navigating three time zones.  I am so proud of them.

I have been accused of being overprotective, too interdependent even;  but I believe that the closer you are to your children in the beginning, the more solid their foundation for when they do spread their little birdie wings and teeter onto the edge of the nest.  And look at them now:  travelling together across the country alone, safe, and successful.

They will return soon, and we will turn our attention to back to school, and locking into the routine of the Fall.  I miss them terribly, but I also know that they (and I) need this.  That this is good for them.  I am so proud of them.

Fly, my little birdies, fly!

 

Fly, my little birdies!