the first snowfall of 2021.

It didn't snow much last year in Beijing. Not enough to put on snowsuits and make snow angels and build snowmen. 

The last time we played outside in the snow was the beginning of 2020. (Yes, that 2020, the 2020 that brought us Covid.) Mabel was 2 years old and I don't think she remembers any of the stress and uncertainty of that time. I think she only remembers the good things, like the unlimited family time and playing on a whole soccer field of untouched snow. 

All day yesterday, Mabel talked about snow—"It's going to snow tomorrow!" I hoped for her sake it would. Then right before bedtime, it started snowing! 

Her refrain changed from "It's going to snow!" to "It is snowing!" and she quickly added, "We're going to play in it tomorrow!" 

I explained that we didn't know that for sure. I explained that it could stop snowing, that it might not snow very much, that it could start raining and that would wash away the snow, that the AQI might be too high for us to go outside. Killjoy much? 

I just didn't want her to be disappointed. 

As the kids slept, and Tony and I watched The Sopranos, the snow continued falling. We were hopeful. 

Mabel insisted on bringing carrots, sure we would build a snowman. 

In a very rare turn of events, Mabel slept until 8AM(!) this morning. When she woke up, she ate her breakfast at record speed, while Tony and I gathered all of the items we would need for the kids to play outside. We were thankful for hand-me-down snowsuits and relieved that the snow boots from last year still fit (just barely; we'll need to buy new ones). 

I wish that I had walked outside ahead of the kids to capture their first reactions, especially Clarke's "Wow" and look of amazement. I'm pretty sure his mouth was a perfect O. This was his first time playing in snow!

In the spirit of full transparency, there might have been more grumpy faces and tears than smiles. It was windy and cold, and I said more than once, "You guys would never survive in Canada!" 

We had fun though. Mabel made a few snow angels. 

In the beginning, Clarke stood very close to Tony and just took it all in. He got into it eventually and started making snowballs and chasing people around. He even wiped out once and fell face first, but got up still laughing. 

The snow wasn't packy enough to make snowmen, but we made little snow castles. 

Mabel wanted nothing to do with a family photo; this was the best we could get :) 

I want to remember the sound their little snowsuits made as they walked—swish, swish, swish—and that Mabel happily noticed the sound too. 

I want to remember that as we were getting them dressed to go outside, Tony said, "I'm sweating." I laughed and said that the fact we don't need to do this every day is one reason to be glad we don't live in Canada. 

I want to remember that both kids ran to see themselves in the mirror, so excited about their winter getups. 

I want to remember that before we even came back inside, Mabel was asking for hot chocolate. 

I want to remember that Clarke quickly drank his cup of hot chocolate, said "Yummy!" and asked for more. 

Here's hoping for more snowy days in Beijing this winter!

so it begins.

On Sunday evening Mabel was playing with her toy kitchen, Clarke was on the floor nearby, and T & I were cooking and cleaning in the kitchen.

All of a sudden I heard Clarke crying his, "I'm hurt!" cry. (Yes, there are different kinds of cries and I recognize them all.) I spun around and saw Mabel shutting the door of her kitchen on Clarke's hand (dude can't crawl but he manages to get around quickly). I yelled, "Mabel! Stop!" and ran over to scoop Clarke up. As I inspected his fingers to make sure they weren't broken, I told Tony, "She just shut the door on his hand!"

Mabel was looking up at us and said, in a matter of fact (and maybe slightly proud) voice, "His head, too!"

Clarke had already stopped crying so Tony and I worked hard not to burst out laughing. That was when Tony said, "Shit! Look at his face!" Poor Clarke had a red line running down his cheek and a red spot on his head. He also had a diaper full of poop, so T took him to the bedroom to check him over and change his diaper.

I asked Mabel why she closed the door on him (thinking maybe it was an accident), and she said angrily, "He was playin' in my kitchen!"

She followed me into the bedroom and climbed up on the bed beside me while I nursed Clarke. I explained to her in a firm voice that it's not okay to hurt her brother, that she should tell him when she doesn't like what he's doing, and she can tell us too so we can help. Then I softened a little and explained that she's the big sister and he thinks she's cool and that her toys are cool and wants to play with her. I told her that it would be nice of her to play with him and share her toys sometimes, but she doesn't have to all the time.

I also told Clarke that if he wants to play with his sister's toys, he should ask first.*

Mabel leaned over and kissed Clarke, saying, "Sorry, Didi." Then she "read" us a story (looking at an old greeting card from a friend that she had been carrying around all afternoon): "My brother was playin' in me kitchen and I hurt him and said I'm sorry..."

I looked at T and smiled, "So it begins. There will be a lot more of this in our future—the good and the bad."

Notice that Mabel can play with Clarke's toys? ;) She often says, "He share with me!"

Do you have any tips for parenting siblings?

*I realize that Clarke can't talk yet and won't understand when Mabel tells him to stop, but he will soon enough. It's important to me that even while they are young, we are modelling the behaviour that we hope to encourage. I also want Mabel to feel respected and see that we are holding Clarke accountable for his actions, just like we do her. Of course, we also explain to her that he's still a baby and doesn't understand yet, but it's our job to teach him.

Elf!

I took Mabel to see Elf this past weekend. The excitement started a few weeks ago when we bought her ticket. She pointed at every poster she saw—"Elf!"—and would tell anyone who was around that she was going to see it. 

Yes, I did buy her these elf PJs specially for the show.

She insisted Dìdì wear his elf outfit too, even though he wasn't going with us. I was surprised and impressed that she remembered he had one; she'd only seen it once weeks ago. (It's probably a good thing she insisted Clarke wear it because I don't think it will fit him by Christmas.)

She insisted on bringing a toilet paper roll. *shrug emoji*

She was pumped that she was dressed like Buddy the Elf. (But didn't love the attention that she got from everyone because of it.) Before we went into the theatre, she was smiling so big and seemed about to burst from the energy. She said, "Mama, I'm so scared!" 

"I think you mean you're so excited?" 

"Yes, Mama! Excited!"

I thought Mabel would want to sit on my lap, but at first she sat in her own seat. I actually liked that better because then I could more easily watch her reactions. When the show began, her eyes were so wide! She bopped along to the music, swinging back and forth, "snapping" her fingers. When the lights changed colours, her eyes grew so big and her mouth formed an O—"Wow!"

I wasn't sure if she would be able to sit through the whole show but she did a great job! It was about an hour long and when it was almost done she asked to go home but I assured her she would see Santa and "Elf" one more time. She loved the parts with them in it, but the parts with "regular" people she found a little boring. 

We said hi to Auntie Jo after the show. (She's one of the StageCats directors.)

After the show we went out to the lobby so Mabel could see Santa and Buddy. She didn't want a photo with Santa, but she said hi. She worked up her courage to get a photo with Buddy though! She was happy to show her that she was dressed like her :) 

And she brought a candy cane home—her first!

I'm so excited to be making memories with my little girl. Especially Christmas memories. I think this is one of my favourite parts of parenthood.

(And I just realized that I didn't get any photos of me with Mabel. *face palm emoji*)

happy halloween!

Celebrating Halloween with a two-year-old is a lot of fun.

I collect holiday books and stash them away most of the year; we pulled out our Halloween books a week or so ago. Mabel asks to read a "Haddoween book!" every day, usually more than one. One of her favourites is If You're Spooky and You Know It, probably because she loves to sing and dance.

We don't have many Halloween decorations, but she loves the ones we do have and points to them, "Haddoween!"

Mabel was a hamburger (like last year) and Clarke was a hot dog.

We practiced saying "trick or treat" and "thank you" all last week, but when we went trick or treating in our apartment building on the weekend, Mabel was pretty shy and wouldn't say either at first. Half the time, she'd put her bucket in front of the person and then hide behind me. About halfway through, she started whispering, "Thank you." The only person she said "trick or treat" to was Auntie Jo. Mabel also gave her a spontaneous hug, which was so sweet.

Clarke only made it through two floors before Tony had to take him home.

I talked to Mabel before we went trick or treating about the fact that she might not be able to eat all of the candy because some might hurt her (I meant choking, but didn't say that). She understood because we've talked about it before. At the apartments that had multiple candy choices, Mabel would give me a look that seemed to say, "Mama, what can I have?" and I'd help her choose a safe treat. At the apartments that only had "unsafe" treats, sometimes we would skip it or she would take one and say, "Mama, Baba eat!"

As we walked through the hallways, several times Mabel held up her pumpkin and asked, "Go home, eat, right?" I'd confirm, "Right!" and she would give me a big smile. She also held the pumpkin up a few times and said, "Mabel, Mama, Baba eat. No Dìdì." (She wasn't being mean; we've drilled into her that he only eats Mama's milk, lest she try to give him food.)

When we got home, Mabel pulled all of the treats out of her bucket one by one, separating them into two piles, "Mama, Baba eat; Mabel eat." The ones she wasn't sure about, she'd ask me, "Mabel's?" She never got upset when I said she couldn't eat something. A couple of times, she pulled a treat out and said, "Wow!"

I let her eat as much as she wanted then (which ended up being a couple small chocolate bars and some popping candy) and she's eaten one candy a day since then when she gets home from school.

I already can't wait until next year. (And Christmas! I can't wait for Christmas!)

i'm forgetting.

Clarke was 12 days old here and Mabel was freshly 2 years old.

I said I would blog and I haven't but I want to, I do, I promise, but I've been busy. Busy holding my baby and reading books with my toddler and cuddling her whenever she will let me. Also, it feels so overwhelming. I am overwhelmed by the task of How to Document My Children's Lives—these fleeting moments that are so hard and so special. I don't want to forget any of it, but I am.

I'm forgetting what it's like to have a newborn flailing in my arms, their arms and legs all jerky and spastic.

I'm forgetting what a newborn sounds like—SO LOUD! Much louder than you'd think. Farts and burps that sound like a grown man's. Heavy breathing that stops and starts and is so nerve-wracking for a first-time mom (and sometimes a second-time mom, too).

I'm forgetting what "nip-lash" feels like, when the baby is so full and content and goes from happily, sleepily, hungrily sucking to pulling away from the nipple while still having it firmly in their mouth. With a twist of their neck and a resounding smack! when the nipple is released—"nip lash."

There's more I'm forgetting, I know there is, but as I sit here, I, well, I forget what I'm forgetting.

I'll remember it though, when the baby does something, like babbles up to me and blows spit bubbles, I'll think, I remember this! Your sister did this! It will all come back to me and I'll feel sad that I forgot what that early baby talk sounds like and I will promise myself that I will remember, I won't forget this time. And I'll think, I should write this down, take a video, burn it into my memory so I won't forget.

But inevitably, I will.

happy friday!

It's actually more like bittersweet Friday because T's sister-in-law and niece left today. They stayed almost three weeks and we'll miss them, but it will also be kind of nice to settle back into our (ever-changing) routine as a family of four. (Wow! That still feels surreal to say/type!)

It was so nice to have them here because Mabel loves Xiaoxuan (her namesake) and it meant two extra sets of hands to help. T's sister-in-law usually cooked one meal a day and she basically held Clarkie whenever it was daytime and I wasn't feeding him. (We told her not to, because, Babe, when your sister leaves, he is not going to be happy that he's not being held 24/7, but honestly, I'm not too worried because Clarkie is my second baby and I'm happy to report that I'm much more relaxed about stuff like this, and really, it's nice that someone was cuddling him because I still feel a little guilty that I haven't been able to cuddle him as often as I did Mabel because... we have Mabel *insert shrugging emoji here*.)

We tried to make it fun for them, too, at least as fun as it could be with a toddler and an infant in tow. We went to the aquarium (if I blogged about it, you would know that Mabel was scared of half of the exhibits, we spent a silly amount of money on a drink with a duck on it and a place for Mabel to play and me to sit and feed Clarkie, and I sprayed milk everywhere), took them out for burgers and Mexican food, I took Xiaoxuan for her first pedicure, and Tony took her to see The Lion King (I'm only a little jealous because we realized neither of us had seen a movie in theatre since before Mabel was born). We also just stayed inside a lot because Beijing is HOT in the summer, much too hot for a baby to be outside in the daytime and even sometimes the evening.

Some things that made me happy this week:

+ The messages I received after sharing this post.

+ T and I going out for a lunch date to celebrate Chinese Valentine's Day.

+ The margarita I drank on that lunch date.

+ The iced latte I brought home and drank while reading Recursion and holding a sleeping Clarkie.

+ T, Mabel, and I going out for ice cream, just the three of us.

+ Two new pairs of earrings (from this shop).

What made you happy this week?

just the three of us.

This is Mabel's smile when someone tells her, "Smile!" Love it.

Yesterday Tony and I took Mabel out for ice cream. "Just the three of us, like the old days" is what I said to Tony. It was such a simple thing, but it felt so special. 

Right before we left, we were waiting for Tony to get home from work and I was sitting on the couch feeding Clarkie (who we left with T's sister-in-law who is here visiting). Mabel was sitting at her little table playing with playdough and I said, "Mabel, when baba gets home, guess what we're going to do."

She thought for a moment, got a little gleam in her eye, and whispered, "Ice cream"—something between a question and a statement, maybe a wish. 

When Tony came home, we put her in her stroller (which is now sometimes hers and sometimes Clarkie's, and also the cause of the first jealousy-induced tantrum Mabel threw after Clarkie came home because how dare I put him in "MABEL'S!!!" stroller?!) and set off.

We arrived at Solana and asked Mabel if she wanted to eat ice cream with a spoon or in a cone. She nodded her head, "Done." (Pronounced like "dome" but with an N because she can't pronounce C's yet, so Clarkie is "Darkie" and it's really cute.)

Tony got in line to order and Mabel and I scoped out a bench because it was waaaaay too hot to sit outside and DQ got rid of their seating with their last renovation (Why, DQ? Why?). Immediately Mabel was concerned, and started craning her neck, looking for Baba. I assured her that Baba was bringing her ice cream soon and she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me so tightly and I want that memory seared into my brain because, this is what being a mom feels like.

Then Tony arrived with the ice cream and I removed the little paper that is always wrapped around the cone because Mabel refuses to eat her ice cream with "garbage." It's just been the last few ice cream outings that Mabel's been able to eat a whole ice cream by herself and she was not happy with Tony when he took the cone from her and licked a few drips. 

I took out my phone and said, "Smile!" and the above photo is the result and even though I'm the only one without a fake smile, I love it because our happiness is real—all three of us.

thank you, dad.

Thank you for teaching me how to catch and throw a ball.

Thank you for introducing me to the Oak Ridge Boys and Red Sovine and John Mellencamp.

Thank you for introducing me to John Hughes and the Brat Pack.

Thank you for taking me to get my first tattoo—at the age of 13(!).

Thank you for buying my prom dress.

Thank you for passing on your love for spaghetti and caesar salad.

Thank you for rescuing me from middle school when my classmates were making fun of my unfortunate new haircut—a mullet.

Thank you for giving me tips for how to be a better/safer driver (like not to trust people's turn signals until they're actually turning).

Thank you for teaching me how to blow a bubble with gum.

Thank you for trying to teach me how to wink.

Thank you for watching Big Brother and eating watermelon with me that summer.

Thank you for watching Are You Afraid of the Dark? and Goosebumps with me. (And for agreeing that Are You Afraid of the Dark? was the better show.)

Thank you for passing on your love of reading.

Thank you for calling me "Punky Brewster."

Thank you for burping me when I was a baby and knowing it wasn't too hard.

Thank you for getting WeChat so we can talk and see each other.

Thank you for teaching me about "crabs in the bucket."

Thank you for teaching me to never give up.

Thank you for being my hero.

Thank you for loving me and always doing your best.

Thank you for being the kind of dad that makes it hard to say goodbye.

I can't even tell you how much I love you. 

Happy Father's Day! xoxo

(Photo: Heather Wilkinson, 2006)

thank you, mom.

Thank you for driving me to work at the Hartland library (and picking me up!) 5 times a week the summer after my first year of university.

Thank you for taking me to Murray's Restaurant every Thursday night after work that summer for a bowl of soup or a piece of pie (and sometimes both).

Thank you for taking me to a dance the night after my first big breakup.

Thank you for taking a day off work and buying me a lawn chair after my last breakup.

Thank you for sending me packages while I'm in China.

Thank you for being open about things like drugs and sex.

Thank you for reading and having books in our home while I was growing up.

Thank you for always buying me the newest Harry Potter book.

Thank you for being my valentine for the past 24 years.

Thank you for buying me pet hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, fish, cats, and dogs.

Thank you for teaching me and my grade one class how to do plastic canvas.

Thank you for having spontaneous food fights in our kitchen.

Thank you for picking me up at 4AM the night I decided to walk home from Max's.

Thank you for the heart-shaped bologna sandwiches and notes on napkins you'd put in my lunch.

Thank you for buying me a new shirt for almost every middle school dance I went to.

Thank you for taking the seeds out of my watermelon and letting Murray and I sit on the couch, draped in towels, to eat the watermelon.

Thank you for taking me to see Casper at the theatre and for buying me a box of mini Oh Henrys.

Thank you for taking me and Dedra to Dari Delite so many times.

Thank you for spontaneously taking me and Murray to the park because the girls on our street were being mean to me.

Thank you for letting me shout, "I just want baba ganoush!" in the grocery store—multiple grocery stores.

Thank you for being the coolest mom around, then and now.

Happy Mother's Day! xo

happy easter, indeed.

I called my Mom a couple weeks ago to wish her a happy Easter and after we made small talk for awhile, she asked me, Did you get the package?!

I knew you sent one!, I said.

What do you mean you knew I sent one? I wrote my name on it.

Well, I kept checking because you always send me something for holidays but there was never a package so I started to feel sad, but I didn't want to ask you because I didn't want to bother you, and I just kept telling myself that you must have sent one and if you didn't, it was no big deal. But I knew you did! Because you're my mom and it's us. 

And then she started to cry. She said she had sent it a month before and it should have been there within two weeks. I tried to calm her down and told her she had no reason to cry, it was only some candy and it was the thought that counted and I knew she loved me.

Eventually she calmed down but as we were saying goodbye, she started to cry again, probably because hormones because cancer (f*ck cancer!), but also because love.

***

Fast forward to yesterday when I checked my mailbox and there was a package and I got so excited that I ran into the hallway and told anyone that was walking by, Look! It's an Easter package from my mom! It came! We thought it got lost but it's finally here!

And then I went back to my class and messaged Tony to come because I wanted to open it with someone who would share my excitement. So I opened it and there were Sour Patch Kids and Swedish Berries, my favourites, and a crispy chocolate bunny, another favourite, and there were Kinder Surprises but they were smashed to bits but I didn't care because it was the thought and plus, I still got to build the toys inside (which everyone knows is the best part).

And there was this note:

And after I read it, I felt even more loved and even happier because she had sent me an Easter package twice. She sent it twice, I kept repeating, almost in awe.

And then I registered the last part of the note, Share with Tony!! and I felt even happier.

I am loved and they are loved and Happy Easter.

umbrella-ella-ella.

It’s the day of my graduation from university and the forecast is calling for rain. I remember to bring an umbrella; it’s matronly black and flimsy.

My father remembers to bring an umbrella, too. It’s also black, but much sturdier. In a gesture typical of gentlemen—not necessarily my father—he offers to switch with me.

In all the photos after the ceremony, I am dry and smiling. He’s smiling as well, but his shirt is soaked.

***

This is the first story I've written (finally!) over at Go Mighty, where I'm working on my Life List. You should visit, and make a list of your own because fun! And yay, life!

keep on trucking, daddy.

My dad is a truck driver. He wasn't always a truck driver, but he has been since I was tiny, a baby maybe, so that's what I know him as.

I grew up around eighteen wheelers. To this day, I love the smell of diesel. It's been years since I've sat high in a passenger seat, but I remember what it feels like. To be high above everyone else, looking down on cars. Hearing the CB crackle, come alive with gruff voices, swear words, laughter. My dad's handle is "Grump." Appropriate. Sadly.

I spent time in the garage with him and his "coworkers." I'd come home with grease stains on my knees, to my mother's despair. I carried around hankies, stolen from him. I slept in oversize truckers' t-shirts—always black, with eagles and American flags. I fell asleep listening to Oak Ridge Boys and Red Sovine, tapes my dad bought for me.

He'd bring home big bags of laundry. I'd bury my nose in his t-shirts. Diesel and aftershave. He carried a kit bag with him, black leather. He brushed back his wet hair with a paddle brush and when he forgot his, he'd use mine.

We'd pick Dad up from the truck, whenever he called, sometimes the middle of the night. At least, it seemed like the middle of the night. Or I'd wake up to the sound of shaking, rumbling, release of air, as he parked his truck outside of our house.

We'd drop Dad off at his truck, usually at night. I'd hug him goodbye and then sit in the back seat. Watch him climb into the driver's seat. Marvel at how high up he was. We'd watch him pull away or we'd drive away first. I cried every time.

I said goodbye to my Dad a couple of times this summer. Drove away from him or watched him drive away. I teared up.

I said goodbye to him last summer, before I left for China. I was the one who drove away from him. He cried. I cried.

Two night ago, I said goodbye to him for another year. Maybe longer. I don't know if he cried, but I did. I cry every time. And I wonder, does it ever get easier?

bagpipes and bras.

I have not been blogging the way I want to be blogging and I don't know why. Maybe because I just don't feel like sitting in front of a computer? Or because I don't know how to put into words what I want to say and what I'm feeling? Maybe because I'm just too busy? Or the opposite; maybe I'm too not busy and don't want to bore you all.

But I do have things I want to share. Things I want to tell you about. You know, like that vacation to Thailand I took back in February. And my new love for yoga. The spontaneous road trip to PEI. Racism and how it's become a part of my life, more-so than just my feeling of sadness and guilt when I read and watch the news. How I'm struggling to find balance in my life back home. How I filed my income tax return by myself for the first time ever and I have no idea if I did it right. (Can I get a high five anyway?)

For now, let me just tell you about today. Today and all of its boring-ness, everyday-ness, wonderful-ness.

I went to Fredericton with my Nan so that I could pick up the Moving Comfort Jubralee sports bra that I ordered from the Running Room.

That's right. I made a special trip to Fredericton to pay $67 for a tight-fitting undergarment. But the customer service was excellent and my boobs didn't move at all when I jumped around in the fitting room (please tell me I'm not the only one who does this), so I think it's worth it. Because, dude. I have the HARDEST time finding bras that fit. Especially sports bras.

Before that, and because I can't parallel park (well, I shouldn't say I can't; I just haven't since my driver's test 7 years ago), I had to make two loops around the downtown area but it's okay because on the second loop, the changing of the guard was happening and I yelled "Nan! Bagpipes!" and turned off the radio and put down the windows and we were both really happy because we love bagpipes and then I found a spot I could drive straight into, right beside the building we needed to be in.

And then my Nan and I had a coffee date with my mom at Second Cup and I don't know if I was more embarrassed or proud that I knew how to perfectly place an order for three medium caramel caretto lattes.

And then, as I hugged my mom goodbye, I realized that she smelled good. She smelled like my mom so I hugged her tighter and didn't want to let go. And it's just now, while I'm writing this post, that I realized how difficult that last hug in the airport before I head back to Beijing is going to be.

So, yes. I have big things to share with you and small things and good things and bad things. Who knows if I will share them all, but I sure as heck want to. I just know better than to make promises I can't keep.

my dad is brave.

“There are many different kinds of bravery. There’s the bravery of thinking of others before one’s self. Now, your father has never brandished a sword nor fired a pistol, thank heavens. But he has made many sacrifices for his family, and put away many dreams.”

“Where did he put them?”

“He put them in a drawer. And sometimes, late at night, we take them out and admire them. But it gets harder and harder to close the drawer… He does. And that is why he is brave.”

- Conversation between Mrs. Darling and Michael, from Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie

(via Momfilter)

younger brother syndrome and an update.

In between all of the crying the other day, I thought, I should probably see how Murray is doing. And so I iMessaged him. And he didn't answer right away because, time difference, which was fine. But then he replied that night. And I didn't know whether to get mad or to laugh. (Spoiler: I chose to laugh.)

Here is the conversation we had (and what I was thinking, in italics):

Me: Hey dude. Are you okay?

Him: Yeah? (Uh...)
        Are you using your old phone? (WTF?)

Me: What do you mean?
       What old phone? (This is not why I am messaging you right now.)

Him: Your old iPhone. The one you didn't take to China.

Me: Obviously I'm not using it right now. I'm in China. (Duh.)

Him: Cool.

Me: Why? (You better not be thinking of using it.)

Him: I just figured you'd have a different number or something.

Me: I'm using my iPod.
       I'll use my iPhone when I get home. (So, too bad, you can't use it.)

Him: Oh. (Yah, "oh.")

Me: How's Mom? (We should have been talking about this 11 messages ago!)

Him: She's in the hospital. But, I'm sure she'll be fine. (!?!?!? That's reassuring.)

Me: Why didn't you tell me? (?????)
       She's been there since Sunday. Aunt Gwen told me today!

Him: Well, I wasn't sure how to reach you. (Are you effing kidding me?! Aren't you young people supposed to be all about technology?)

Me: Facebook?
       Email?
       Skype?
       iMessage or FaceTime?

Him: Well, to be honest I actually didn't even think about telling you. It didn't come to mind cause I got a shit tonne of stuff on my mind. (It didn't come to MIND?! You have a shit tonne of stuff on your mind?! Ha!) (Amandaaa, give him the benefit of the doubt...)

Me: Like what? Are you okay?

Him: Yeah, I'm fine. I just got a lot of school stuff to do. (AND?!)

Me: Okay. Well, if Mom is in the hospital again, please tell me. (I am typing this calmly, but really, want to type it NOT CALMLY!)

Him: Well she's still there. I'd like to visit today after I'm done school today. (Like to? Yah, so would I!)

Me: I know she's still there. (...) I mean, if she gets out and then has to go back.

Him: K. Does messaging like this cost anything? (Really? Really?!)

Me: No.

Him: K so if anything happens I'll reach you this way. (Big sigh.)

Me: Ok, thanks! Love you!

Him: Love ya too.

And I really do love him and I'll be happy to hug him when I get home and I probably won't even strangle him. Thanks for the comic relief, bro.

*****

Mom is still in the hospital, not sure how long but at least the rest of the week. She's on blood thinners and will be for a few months. She's also on pain medication, thank God. She has her second chemo treatment today and I'm really REALLY hoping it doesn't make her as sick as it did last time. (Yes, I know chemo makes you sick, but apparently it's not supposed to make you as sick as she's been.)

Also, it is really REALLY hard to hear your Mom break down into tears. Especially when you can't hug her. 

But, it is really REALLY nice when you realize how many nice people there are out there. So many people have left sweet comments here and on Facebook and have emailed. A couple of Mom's co-workers contacted me. A few of my co-workers have reached out. I have good friends. The best friends. 

Thank you, everyone! Keep the prayers and positive thoughts coming! (Please :)

today. and eff cancer.

I got to work early today so I was doing my usual eat oatmeal and check Facebook/Twitter/Instagram thing before the kids got there.

And on one of my checks of Facebook, I saw that I had a message from my Aunt Gwen (my mom's sister):

"Your Mom asked me to let you know that she is in the hospital. She has developed blood clots in her lungs and they admitted her. She is being treated and is feeling much better, but will probably be in for a few days longer. Not sure if they will be able to do her chemo treatment this week as she is waiting to see the Oncologist... If you get this message and can make a phone call to me please do so. Do not worry about the time."

I took a couple deep breaths and didn't think I was going to cry, but then, almost without even realizing it, I was sobbing. Like, hold-my-hands-up-to-cover-my-eyes-sobbing.

The first part—"she has developed blood clots in her lungs and they admitted her"—was scary, I feel like I can't breathe. The second part—"she is being treated and is feeling much better"—was phew, okay, she's okay. And the last part—"If you get this message and can make a phone call to me please do so. Do not worry about the time"—was scary, I need to call her now, cue sobbing.

And so I took a couple more deep breaths and stopped crying long enough to tell my TA, Danni, I need to make a phone call... and then my hands were covering my eyes again and I was shaking and crying. Between sobs and attempts to breathe, I told Danni that my mom was in the hospital and tried to explain why and that I had to call my aunt to get details. Meanwhile, she looked like she was going to cry (I think I may have scared her) and the security guard and ayi (cleaning lady) were staring at me. (The ayi had been laughing when I first started crying but then stopped as soon as she realized something was actually wrong.) I asked Danni to try to explain to the guard and ayi what was wrong and told her I'd try to be quick, that if the kids arrived, just tell the parents I was on the phone but would be done soon.

Then I walked quickly to the empty classroom at the end of the hall and got really frustrated with Gmail because the call feature kept telling me to download a plug-in but the damn plug-in wouldn't effing work. (I thought the "f word" a lot today and typed "eff" a lot, too.) So I got my wallet, added credit to my Skype account for the first time ever, simultaneously cursing and loving technology, and called my aunt.

And as soon as I heard, Hello? Hello?? (Hi, Aunt Gwen... Aunt Gwen!) Oh, Amanda! Hi!, I was sobbing again.

And really, I don't have that many more details than what I had from that Facebook message. Just that my mom has been really sick pretty much continuously since her first chemo treatment earlier this month* (which I already knew), that she was in a lot of pain on the weekend, went to the hospital sometime on Friday and didn't leave 'til Saturday (but wasn't admitted), and then went back on Sunday and was admitted because she has blood clots in her lungs. Which sounds effing serious, right? My aunt said Mom had been in a lot of pain but they finally got it under control on Monday and she's being given a blood-thinning medication. Only her family doctor has been in to see her so far; she's still waiting to see her oncologist. (My mom has an oncologist! Eff!)** The oncologist will decide whether or not Mom can get her second chemo treatment on Thursday as planned or if it will have to be postponed.

So, recap (more for me than for you guys): My mom is in the hospital with blood clots in her lungs but she is okay. Or, at least, as okay as she can be with breast cancer and blood clots. Eff. I just want her to be okay.

I didn't even know what to ask my aunt or what to say. I think I asked, Is she okay? a few times. Is she really okay? And I said, thank you a lot, I think. And I asked her to please give Mom a hug for me. And I told her to please tell my mom that I had tried calling her on the weekend and left messages, that I hadn't forgotten about her. And I cried a lot. And said, I'm sorry.

And then I called my Nan (my dad's mom) and I told her, I'm sorry for calling you; I know you were probably sleeping (time difference), but I knew you would want to know (they're close) and I can't talk to Mom right now, but I needed to talk to someone who loves me and who I love.

And then I took a few more deep breaths, wiped away more tears, and went back to work.

And let me tell you, getting bad news and then having to get straight to work as a preschool teacher is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because hugs from 2- and 3- and 4-year-olds are one of the best things in life. A curse because you just want to cry and you can't and then the 3-year-old cries because someone takes a toy from him and you want to say, Dude, you have nothing to be crying about right now, trust me, but you don't, because he's 3 and I guess maybe that is a reason to cry at that age. Eff.

Anyway, the rest of the day went on and it was mostly okay, except for crying off and on, and continuously thinking about my mom: How is she? She's in the hospital. She has blood clots in her lungs. Is my mom going to die? Oh my God, she could die. I mean, I know she's okay, but what if she isn't? What if something else bad happens but it's even more serious?*** I mean, in just one month she got super dehydrated and sick, got a bad throat infection and had almost no white blood cells, the antibiotics she was given were damaging her esophagus, and now this. Eff. I wish there was something I could do. I want to be home right now. I want to hug her. I want to see her. Why am I in frickin' China? I'll be home in less than a month but should I be getting on a plane now?

Other thoughts included: I hope she doesn't think I forgot about her. I hope she knows I love her. Why didn't someone tell me sooner? I don't want to be at work. I want to curl up with a blanket and cry. Eff. Is there something I should be doing but I'm not because I've never done this before and I don't know what to do? Should I even go to that wedding this summer or to Boston? Eff these tweets about The Bachelorette (or is it The Bachelor? I don't know because I don't follow this stuff); don't people know there are more important things in life? Amanda, don't be ridiculous, life goes on and you tweet about stupid stuff all the time. (I don't actually think this stuff is stupid. Not The Bachelor or blogs or what-have-you. Well, maybe they are, but they have their place in life.) Eff, I was doing yoga last night while my mom was in the hospital, in pain! I went for a walk this morning and complained about stupid stuff while my mom was in the hospital! My mom is in the hospital right now! I hope she's okay. What can I dooo?

And the answer to that last part is nothing. There's nothing I can do, not really. But I'm going to try and get through to my mom at the hospital tonight (her morning) so that I can hear her voice (and probably cry some more) and tell her I love her. And order some flowers to be sent to her. (As my Nan said when I sent her flowers for Mother's Day, I guess that's what they mean by wiring flowers.) And just try to keep things in perspective. Bad hair days? Pfft. Acne? Pfft. Small argument with a friend or boyfriend? Pfft.

Yes, perspective. I learned about perspective today. (A lesson that it seems we need to learn over and over.) And gratitude. I learned about gratitude today, too. I am grateful for:

My mom, for making sure my aunt would keep me updated.

My aunt, who let me know what was going on with my mom and who promised to keep me updated.

My Nan, who is always there.

My students, who hugged me, even though they didn't know anything was wrong.

My ayi, who washed my dishes for me.

My TA, who told me to take a longer break today, "because you need it."

My security guard, who said, in his limited English, "I have no words... your mom... you..." and explained that his oldest sister had breast cancer and had a mastectomy and is okay now. (Reminding me just how common breast cancer is. Eff. But also that it's not impossible to beat.)

My friends, who reached out via Twitter and iMessage and Skype.

Alanna, for a chips & dip and wine night.

T-Man, for hugging me and letting me cry on him (literally) and not saying anything.

All of you, who read this entire rambling post. Thank you. If you pray, please pray for my mom. If you think positive thoughts, please think some for my mom. Thank you, thank you.

*I know it's normal for chemotherapy to make you sick, but apparently Mom's been more sick than she should be. They said they'll adjust her next treatment. 

**Obviously she has an oncologist. I know this, but these kinds of realizations pop into my head pretty often. Things that make me think, Wow! Mom has cancer! Eff!

***My mom has always called me her "What If? Girl" and I'm pretty sure if she were here, she'd tell me to stop thinking, What if? She's been so positive throughout this whole thing; my mom's a superhero!

momma, you got this.

This is one of my favourite photos because she was laughing SO HARD.

Today is my mom's first chemo treatment. And I wish I could be there so badly. Because I love her and this is a big deal and I want to support her and cheer her on (because everyone needs a cheerleader, right?) and she's been there for so many of my firsts, the good and the bad.

Momma, you got this! And I got you. Always. xoxo

P.S. I can't wait to sit in the food court with you this summer and laugh about nothing and everything.

you can't lose me.

"You Can't Lose Me" by Faith Hill* came on my iPod a couple weeks after my mom's diagnosis and as I skipped past it, something told me to go back and listen. At first I wondered, what does a little girl running a race have to do with me? And then I heard the chorus. And then the verse about the daughter going out on her own. Yup. Okay, Universe, I needed this song.

"You can't lose me, you bet your life

I am here, and I will always be, just a wish away

Wherever you go, no matter how far

My love is where you are

You won't be lost if you believe

You can't lose me"

It came on again this morning and as I listened, I thought, I could really use a Mother/Daughter Day today. Also, I think I might cry harder when I get home than I did when I left.

*If you ignore the cheesiness of the video, it's actually a pretty good song. Especially if you're a daughter and/or mother.

I want to live in a world where my mom is okay.

I don't remember when she told me her doctor had found a lump - maybe a couple weeks before I left for Thailand? - but I remember not being too concerned. (Which is unlike me; I'm known to be quite an alarmist, but I think I might be calming down as I get older. I don't get nearly as worked up about things as I used to.) She was calm, so why shouldn't I be? And she said the doctor said it was probably nothing, but she was going to have a mammogram anyway. Because that's what you do when you're in your 50s (early 50s! Don't worry, Mom, I got your back!) and you find a lump in your breast.

So she had the mammogram. And then she had an ultrasound. And I started to get a little more concerned. Because she's my mom, you know?

And then she had to have a biopsy. And for some reason, I still wasn't that worried, although I did end up crying in the van on the way to work one morning, my earphones in, tears silently streaming down my cheeks as I thought of living in a world where my mom wasn't okay. And that's when I first had the thought: I want to live in a world where my mom is okay for as long as possible.

And the waiting game began. I knew there was a 50/50 chance that the lump was cancerous. But I guess I never really thought that the results would be that 50. (I hope this speaks to my optimism. Or maybe just my love for my mother. And wanting her to be okay.) She said she should have the results in about 5 days. Which meant that I'd be in Thailand. Probably Chiang Mai, which is where I was supposed to kiss an elephant. And she asked me, did I want her to tell me while I was on vacation? And I told her, of course I did! So we decided she would send me a Facebook message as soon as she got the results because she wouldn't be able to call me. (I know, finding out whether or not your mom has cancer through Facebook is not ideal, but Skype doesn't work on my iPod and she doesn't FaceTime so, whatever, it's what worked for us, don't judge.)

But did I really want her to tell me while I was in Thailand? (I realize this sounds selfish, and it is, I guess, but honestly, I think it still boils down to I want to live in a world where my mom is okay for as long as possible.) See, the thing is, there's never a good time to find out whether or not your mom has cancer. Unless, of course, you're finding out she doesn't have cancer, in which case any time is the perfect time. But I didn't want to be sad while on vacation (no one wants to be sad, ever!) and I didn't want my sadness to ruin my friend's vacation because it was just going to be the two of us traveling together and I just want to live in a world where my mom is okay for as long as possible. I talked about it with a couple of my friends and it was agreed: If she didn't tell me, I'd wonder, and I'd assume it was cancer because if it wasn't, she would tell me because then I'd be happy. And even though I wanted my mom to be okay, I needed to know as soon as possible because she's my mom.

So I made a plan:

If I got a Facebook message from my mom before I got to kiss an elephant, I wouldn't read it until after. That day with the elephants would be my last hurrah! before finding out my mom has cancer. Or, that day with the elephants would be the great day on which I kissed an elephant AND found out my mom didn't have cancer.

And I made a plan for what I would do when I found out either way:

If it turned out she didn't have cancer, I would be happy and drink a bucket of alcohol (I'd be in Thailand, remember) to celebrate! If it turned out she did have cancer, I would cry and drink a bucket of alcohol to... well, to be sad. I admit, maybe it wasn't the best or healthiest plan, but it was a plan.

So I got on a plane to Thailand and compulsively checked my Facebook messages every time I had WiFi. And nothing. No messages from my mom. So I messaged her on the day she was supposed to get the results, the day I kissed an elephant: Have you heard anything? Nope, not yet. Have fun!

So I flew to Bangkok. And then I had a thought: Mom, you really haven't heard anything or you just don't want to tell me? Her response: No, really. I wouldn't lie to you.

And my alarm went off at 3:45am on February 13th in a dark hotel room on Khao San Road because we had an early flight to Krabi. And of course, I checked my Facebook messages while I was still lying in bed. And I saw there was one from my mom and I felt calm as I opened it, even though I knew there was a 50/50 chance my mom had cancer, maybe because I still didn't think the results would be that 50 because our parents are invincible, aren't they?

I'm sorry honey but I just found out today and I have cancer but it's early so only need a lumpectomy. I'm ok! 

And I breathed. And I breathed again. And again. And then I sat up and threw back the covers and Alanna said, what? And I said, it's cancer. And Alanna said, what? And I said, it's cancer! My mom has cancer. And then I went into the bathroom and tried to FaceTime Melissa because I knew she'd know what to say but she didn't answer and I just said, Fuck. And that's what I kept saying, out loud and in my head. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

And I brushed my teeth and got dressed and said no to Alanna when she tried to hug me, even though I appreciated the gesture, especially because I know she's not a huggy person, but I just didn't want to be touched right then, at least not by someone that wasn't one of "my people" and my people were halfway around the world. Fuck.

And as I finished packing and got in a taxi and drove to the airport, the stream of random, ridiculous, nonsensical thoughts started:

I want her to be okay. I want her to cut her boob off! I just want it out of her! I want her to be okay. My mom has breast cancer. It's okay; a lot of people have had breast cancer and they're fine. Think. Sheryl Crow. That news anchor -- what's her name? Christina Applegate. Sharon Osbourne -- wait. Did she have breast cancer or another kind of cancer? It doesn't matter; she had cancer and she's okay now. I know there have been other people with breast cancer and they're okay. [Blank]'s mom. There must be more... Okay, think of people who have had any kind of cancer and are okay now. (And here's where I could only think of people who had not been okay.) My mom has cancer. Fuck. Oh, the taxi driver's buying two of those flower things for his mirror; they must be some kind of spiritual thing. I'm going to take that as a sign that my mom's going to be okay. I should do one of those breast cancer walks or runs. Yah, I'll run a half marathon for my mom and then she'll be okay. Should I get one of those bracelets? Yah, I should get one of those bracelets and wear it every day and then she'll be okay. My mom has cancer. I found out my mom has cancer on February 13th, 2013 and I'll always remember that. Or did I find out on February 12th because that's what day it is back home? Fuck. This does not work well with my need to remember dates. Why am I in a different timezone?! My mom has cancer. She has breast cancer. This is my fault for watching Parenthood, just like when I read Karen's Grandad and then Grampy had a heart attack. Fuck. I want to live in a world where my mom is okay again.

And then we were at the airport and we checked in and went through security and while we were waiting to board I thought, I need to call my mom. But WiFi wasn't working so I went to a payphone that said it was for international calls but it was out of service and did you know there are no working payphones anywhere anymore?

So I got on the plane and was thankful I had a window seat and I listened to "We Are Okay" by Joshua Radin while staring at this:

"We are grown but cannot see
Lost our world of make believe
Simple times now seem so far
Used to be in my backyard
Yeah, the world was still in my backyard

But, we are okay, we are alright
We sing very loud,
Yeah, we're singing
We are okay, we are alright
Close our eyes, close our mouth
Yeah, we shut our eyes though we're in doubt"

And it was then that I realized: My mom has cancer. My mom has breast cancer. How is she doing? What is she thinking? What is she feeling?

And I was embarrassed at first that it took me about 3 hours to realize that my mom - a person, not just my mom - has breast cancer. But then I thought, maybe that's normal because she's my mom, because moms take care of their kids, and because she's supposed to be invincible, right?

I just want to live in a world where my mom is okay again.

santa found me!

Or rather, my friends and family were good to me, so so good to me. Either way, it's magic. 

All my mail gets sent to school and then the receptionist emails me to let me know I have mail.* I knew that my momma had sent me a package and I knew that at least one friend had popped something in the mail, but I was not expecting the pile that I gleefully picked up today.

I know Christmas is not about stuff. I promise, I know that. But carrying a pile of mail back to my apartment, getting comfortable on my couch, and opening cards and gifts from friends and family made me really happy today. I don't think it's because I now own more things, but because it was a tangible way to see that I was thought of this holiday season.

As I read the words written inside glittery Christmas cards, I could hear the voices of the people I love. I could see them smiling at me, see the way their mouths moves when they talk, the way their noses scrunch or twitch, the way their eyes focus or wander.

As I opened my mom's gifts, it felt like every other Christmas we have spent together. I didn't realize how much a new calendar, underwear, and pyjama pants mean to me. They mean tradition and new beginnings and love.

As I sit here right now, wearing the pyjama pants my momma picked out for me and the cowl she knit for me, I feel like I'm home.

Merry Christmas!

*I never went to summer camp when I was a kid, but I've always had this romanticized idea of a camp counsellor coming into a cabin, holding a stack of envelopes, yelling "Mail call!" I just realized, the subject line "mail at reception" is my own grown-up version. Even without bunk beds and campfires, "Mail call!" is pretty happy.