Drops of Jupiter

Our 5 year old son woke up early this morning while it was still dark outside. My husband was up and went outside to walk over to the office which is across the deck from our house. He came back inside and asked E if he wanted to come and see the stars. E got very excited and ran outside with G.

“Look E – that bright star over there is actually a planet – its Jupiter.”

“Wow – its Jupiter!”

After much examination of the stars in the sky – including identifying Mars, E decided to go inside and get I and wake her up so that he could show her Jupiter in the morning sky.

They both came back outside and marveled at the sky.

Our 7 year old asked – “Its been so long since I’ve seen the stars in the sky. What time is it?”

I explained that it was the morning and just about 20 minutes before she usually got up. After a few minutes of marveling at the stars, both kids decided that the night sky was cool to look at, but the realization that they hadn’t eaten for about 12 hours kicked in and they decided that breakfast was needed.

Who's on first?

A discussion that took place at our dinner table last night while eating ‘green spaghetti) (actually penne with home made pesto sauce).

Me – “Did you know that the different shapes of pasta are all made from the same stuff – but just shaped differently?”

7 year old – “Yeah Mom. And couscous is also made of the same stuff.”

Me – “That’s right – its made from semolina flour.”

7 year old – “You know, Heath likes couscous but doesn’t like pasta.”

Me (now in the kitchen) – “Who is he?”

7 year old – “Heath is a boy in my class.”

Me – “But who is he?”

7 year old – “What do you mean? Heath is a boy in my class.”

Me – “Yes, I understand that he is a boy in your class. But what is his name?”

7 year old – “His name is ‘Heath’.”

At this point I realized what had been happening and we both erupted into laughter.

One to remember.

This morning our two kids were getting ready for school. Their shoes were downstairs in the basement and they needed to go and get them on in order to get ready to leave. This wouldn’t be an issue except both of them have developed a ‘fear’ of the basement. I listened to them ponder their shoes when one finally suggested that they go downstairs together.

I watched them begin down the stairs and zipped out the front door and down the front steps. Very quietly and discreetly, I positioned myself under the window where the bench and shoes are. I waited until I could hear them chattering while getting their shoes. When they were well entrenched in the idea of getting ready for school, I jumped up screaming and yelling outside the window.

Both kids jumped up laughing and screaming at the same time.

It was one of those fond memories that I will recall, and hopefully I’ve made them realize that the only thing to be scared of in the basement is their crazy mom jumping up from behind the window.

Sick humour

I have a fairly sick sense of humour that can sometimes get me in trouble. My Mom is the same. We used to watch people sliding on icy sidewalks through the city and couldn’t help but laugh when they lost balance. Its a terrible thing and its not that either of us is malicious, but we tend to find these kinds of things funny and can’t help but laughing.

Speaking with my Mom yesterday, she told me that she is doing a women’s conference in a maximum security prison today. She has done this once before and it was such a success that the prison asked her to come back and do another. They have women on the waiting list to attend this weekends conference.

She was telling me that 85% of the women serving time that she spoke with had been sexually abused – very sad. But it shows you the impact that this terribly behaviour has on our society.

She said that one of the rules that the prison has is that no one is to ask any of the women why they have been incarcerated. She said you don’t even need to because most of them will tell you why quite openly. She mentioned that one of the women she met at the last conference told her that she was serving time for killing her husband and stabbing her sister.

She told my Mom, “I feel kind of badly for what happened to my sister.” and nothing else.

Scott the lizard.

Earlier today our children caught a lizard. They decided to name the lizard ‘Scott’. I have no idea why, but that seemed a good name to them.

This was a very, very small lizard (about half the length of my index finger) and they made a lizard habitat in a plastic container for a brain teaser flip book. They were very careful to make sure Scott had something to eat and they lovingly placed a grape in the bottom of the lizard habitat. They even went so far as to build Scott a playroom out of Lincoln Logs.

We went for lunch, to a playground and then to get some groceries with friends of ours. We had a lovely afternoon. When we arrived home our five year old son, E., decided to play with Scott. I suggested that he take Scott outside to play.

About 15 minutes later, E came back inside with a very sad and downtrodden look on his face. “I lost Scott.”, he said.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry to hear that. Did you put him down on the ground and he ran away?”

“No, I was bouncing him on the hammock and he bounced off and fell between the cracks of the deck.”

Try hearing that and looking into your sons big blue but very sad looking eyes and keep a straight face.

An anniversary not to be forgotten.

Six years ago today the US and the world suffered a tragedy with the terrorist destruction of the World Trade Center in NY and other associated tragedies that took place that day.

I cried a lot that day and in the days that followed. I cry every September 11 – never fails.

I cry for all the families who lost loved ones that day. I cry for the rest of us who will forever live in fear – the fear that it could be any one of us one day.

I cry for one family in particular – the Dack family. This family was one that I knew, not very well, but I knew them nonetheless. On September 11, 2001 Arron Dack was killed in the World Trade Center attacks. He got up early that morning to go to a breakfast meeting at Windows on the World. Sadly, he would never come home.

Arron was married to Abby who is the sister of one of my childhood friends. I spent much time with their family growing up and got to know them as the wonderful family that they are. I was fortunate enough to meet Aaron a few times and attend his and Abby’s wedding. They made a beautiful couple and had beautiful children. It only took meeting Arron once or twice to appreciate his humour and wonderful demeanor. He was relaxed and personable and clearly loved his wife.

I often think of Abby and their children and wonder how they are. Every year, on September 11, I cry for them and their loss. And then I cry for the other families who lost loved ones. And then I cry for the rest of us.

God Bless all who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. May they rest in peace and may their families find peace in their hearts.

Here is a lovely memorial to Arron.

And another…

And yet another…

A plug for Ellen.

My Mom is my Mom, and as such, there are things she does that drive me nuts. Those things are minimal in comparison to the things she does to help a LOT of people. Recently, my Mom decided that abandoned babies who die should be given the dignity and respect of having a proper burial. As such, she has worked with the Ontario Coroner’s Office and will be taking on the responsibility of arranging for proper burial services for abandoned babies.

See below for several stories that were written about her and her wonderful efforts.

Rock on Mom!