Brotherly Love

The other night Ben and I were putting Junior to bed as Erin was working late. We splashed in the bath then picked out Junior’s fuzzy “per’damnies” as Ben likes to call them when he gets lazy about his pronunciation. Next we heated up the milk or rather the “moo” that Junior asked for, accompanied by the sign for “more.” Somewhere in the midst of that my heart melted when Ben said,

“Can I feed him his bottle, I want to cuddle.”

We are certainly all about the Love in our house. Erin and I knew going into this that we wanted our kids to develop and enjoy a sibling relationship but saying that is easy, waiting for it happen requires time. I think it started when Ben realized he finally had a playmate other than Erin and I. They could have their own clubs, their own games, their own secrets, even if Junior’s are still babble that sounds like “goo ba do du boo bah.” He always has an opinion.

And so we got the “moo” from the fridge and filled the bottle while Junior was wiggling on the kitchen floor saying “up, up, up”. We heated up the milk and took it to the bedroom. Ben climbed into the rocking chair and I popped Junior with his already dwindling milk onto his lap. Junior flopped back against his brother and contentedly sipped away.

That was it, that was the moment that I knew what Erin and I hoped for had occurred. The individual desire of our children to want to be with each other separate from our needs and wishes, and to have real comfort and affection for one another. They really are siblings and it is so comforting to know that no matter how life changes in the future they have developed that bond.

As a widowed mother it makes me feel so much more secure when there are other people around to support my son. I know that of course it is not just me, that I have tons of family on my and my late wife’s side that adore my son and would never let anything happen to him. However this is the everyday love, the love that wakes you up in the morning and wraps its arms around you before you have even gotten out of your per’damnies.

It is the love that is there when you have had a shit day and all you want around you are your people to talk about it, to hold you and reaffirm that they are there for you no matter what, day in and day out. It is our new-traditional, totally supportive, come what may love. I need a tissue…

She Drives Me Crazy!!

Kelly here and yes she did drive me crazy and no I am not talking about my steadfast friend and housemate Erin. I have been on a winding journey that felt more like I was a ping pong ball and life was the paddle that was spanking me! The task; learn to drive. My best cheerleader; Erin. And now after five damn tries I can final say I passed my G2 Drivers Test, I am officially a lesbian with a licence!

The start of this nerve wracking commute to adulthood began at Young Drivers. Actually it really started before I made the call to purchase my in class lessons, after the exhilarating realization that this was actually happening! If I had a dime for every bead of sweat I dropped over this whole ordeal I would be able to pay for a personal chauffeur, but I digress.

I have been a nervous driver since I was a teenager, I may have had an overdeveloped sense of self preservation. From the moment I failed my G Exit test I have been too afraid to get back into the drivers seat. When I moved to Toronto I figured I was in the land of public transit and would never need one. Cue the ironic overture of the single mom by chance. It was time, and with two growing boys to cart around I could not avoid it any longer.

The first time I got in the car with my sarcastic and highly amusing instructor Peter I had to pull over. I made a left turn at a busy intersection and nearly hyperventilated. Yet to my surprise, after just a few sessions I was more comfortable than I thought I would be. By the time we did mock testing with I was an A student! I loved his constant refrain when I pulled a beautiful parallel park or navigated the shenanigans of careless drivers:

“Nothing wrong with that!”

Fast forward to August 2019. Beautiful balmy morning ride with Peter to the Port Union Driver Examination Centre. I was sweating as we went to sign in. Unfortunately we were informed that most of the examiners were off “sick” and I could not be guaranteed an appointment before we had to go pick up my son from school. Strike one.

Fast forward to September 2019. Lovely fall day back at Port Union. I actually got to do the test this time! I did well but she failed me on a technicality. Erin assured and supported me like no tomorrow. Strike two.

Fast forward again to November 11, 2019 specifically. Why not rock it on the day my (driving) wife passed away? Make her proud! …. Then the icy blizzard rolled in that morning. Ben and I visited my mom so I could retake the test in Belleville (smaller town with less traffic). Too bad her winter tire appointment had been bumped. I was driving fine on the suddenly snow covered streets, until we pulled into the examination centre, or at least tried to as we slid sideways into a ditch. Tests were cancelled due to unsafe weather conditions… DUH!. Strike three.

Fast forward December 2019. Made it there! Failed. Realized I’m a great, safe driver but the pressure of test defeated me. The “she” who drives me crazy was the glinty eyed examiner who really didn’t help. Erin and my mom were both great about it, but may have had some interesting expletives to use when explaining this woman to others. Strike four.

Fast forward to February 2020. Gave myself a good talking to; I’m not here to make friends. I’m not even going to look at the examiner. I’m just here to get this damn thing done. I got the same sharp eyed examiner, nearly pooped my pants, then resolved not to let her freak me out. This time she told me “well, you passed the ministry standards” in an exasperated tone. Awww and I thought she didn’t recognize me from last time. Finally, mom and I went for a G and T. VICTORY!!!!!

I FaceTimed Erin and we had a very quiet freak out. She was on the streetcar coming back from Sick Kids Hospital as Junior had broken out into into a wicked case of hives! That evening Ben, she and Junior were all infected with something akin to the Norwalk virus. Once I got home I was the last lesbian standing and everyone had a “just in case bucket.”

And the moral of this story is…

Challenges of life will never stop. They just get more irritating and yucky the longer you have to wade through them. The thing that makes it bearable is your family. I must say I have so much love and joy in my heart for my family that sometimes I think it will burst.

Future challenges

Ben: Read a book on his own.

Junior: Learn to use even more words. Except I secretly want him to keep saying “die” when he means “bye”.

Erin: Finish editing Season Two of Fashioning Families without throwing computer through the window. Glad we have our producer Anika to help despite the fact she is a busy new mother!

Kelly: Speed dating…yipe.

Check out our special guest on Season 2!

For Fuck-Sake Salad

We all need a loving kick in the pants sometimes. A little while ago there was a particularly difficult week concerning Ben. Eventually I just sent him down to Erin because I couldn’t deal anymore. He had not been helpful cleaning up the living room. I asked him to clean his room and when I checked on him he was playing. When I went back twice he was still playing. That was when I lost it, then he told me that I didn’t do anything and that he was “doing my dirty work.” Yeah I was done. 

Once those emotional hooks get in there is no room for patience or calm. It didn’t help that this week we had to reprimand him for rough-housing with the baby and making some very unsafe choices. We had a talk about thinking through things. Then Erin caught him taking a pair of gardening sheers to the hall carpet…yeah. It was consequence city.

After the “dirty work” day Erin sat me down and started a difficult conversation. She was actually making some helpful suggestions of things she used to try and keep her own household from overwhelming her. I just felt a lot of shame and frustration and came away feeling pretty shitty about myself. I didn’t sleep that night and it took some time to process, but in hindsight those helpful suggestions were just what I needed. 

Basically it amounted to, if there’s something you can do now and get it over with; Do it! That way when you come back to the kitchen or bathroom or pile of laundry you won’t feel shitty about the fact that it wasn’t done. Things like put the lid back on the peanut butter and put it into the cupboard, wash the dishes in the sink and make sure all the food is put away.  Erin’s golden moment was when she said something like, I’m not saying this because you did anything wrong, I am saying this because I want things to be easier for you. Then she smiled and yelled “for fuck-sake put yourself first!” 

So now when I think about the things I need to do, I think of them as an act of self-care, for fuck-sakes. I thought about it this morning as I was cleaning the kitchen and chopping some forgotten fruit. I was making a fruit salad to take care of myself and you can too. Try my recipe I will call this creation the….

For Fuck-Sake Fruit Salad

1 lime

1 orange

1 grapefruit 

1-2 Granny Smith apples

1 cup strawberries 

1 cup blueberries 

1 cup raspberries 

1 peach

Hand full of fresh basil leaves 

Squeeze the juice of two limes into a sealable bowl or Tupperware. Then slice orange and grapefruit and squeeze a little of the juice into the bowl. Cut out sections and add them. Slice Granny Smith apples and add with any fruit that happen to be hanging around. Add basil leaves, seal container and shake, shake señora! Refrigerate and toss before serving!

I particularly thought of myself as I washed the grapes and sliced them cleanly down the middle. I wasn’t going to but then I thought they look pretty and I’m doing this for me…for fuck-sake

And you know it, it feels good!