Newsworthy - Or So I Think

The news is slowly creeping out, spreading to the far reaches of the world (a bit of a hyperbole), and is being met with astonishment, happiness, uncertainty and a bit of disbelief. Some people are over-the-moon, while there are those who are nursing hurt feelings, put off by being kept in the dark. It's hard to understand, I suppose, why one would keep the most wonderful thing they've ever done to themselves and their small inner circle. All these emotions are perfectly normal, but even though I can understand them, my little masterpiece is just that - my little masterpiece.

In the beginning, I wanted to keep it hush-hush because it was new and scary. I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out, what the outcome would be, and all that mattered was keeping it close to me. As time went by, I realized this was our experience, the Sidekick's and mine, and it wasn't necessary to share it with the entire world. Really, in the past nine months, the entire world has been just the two three of us. It didn't matter what other people thought. I didn't care to share it with everyone because I wanted to keep it to myself. It was my secret to revel in and enjoy. It was my journey. 

Yes, I could have posted belly photos and foetal updates, which many people do and is perfectly fine, except it was intimate for me. It was something I wanted to experience without the pressure of other opinions. Besides, I've always felt to live happily and healthily in this world one must keep a modicum of anonymity. Sounds crazy, huh? The girl who blogs and vlogs, who puts her face and words out into the world, actually advocates the power of privacy. This isn't a new thing. I've always felt this way and worked diligently to protect the privacy of friends, family and myself.    

We are so accustomed to seeing every part of everyone's lives and it's weird when we aren't in the loop. But I am a firm believer the loop isn't for everyone. The loop isn't intended for every Tom, Dick and Henry. The loop isn't made for all the people you have ever known, ever will know, and may know in the future. With social media comes responsibility. We are responsible for what we post, who we allow to see it, how safe we keep ourselves, and some of us open ourselves to be vulnerable in a space where vulnerability can be exploited. We've all seen someone (or many someones) post about the lack of support, love, responses, attention their updates receive. That's because even when you have nine billion friends on Facebook, you can still be overlooked, missed, and ignored. Quantity really is no replacement for quality, and that applies to social media and networking too. In private moments of need we turn to those people in our loop and if your loop includes everyone then you are going to end up being disappointed and, probably, feeling alone.  

My loop is reserved for those who have supported and loved me, shown me friendship in the dark times and celebrated in the light with me. 

Maybe this is hard for people to understand. Or maybe I'm making complete sense, for once in my life. But if anyone is taking it personally, please don't. It isn't personal - not for you. For me, it is. Very personal. For the Sidekick, too. And the Timbit, who came three weeks early and is utter perfection. Like I said, this is the most wonderful (and hard) thing I have ever done and I cannot tell you how incredible it has been. I am proud to be a mother. Incredibly in love with the little man who is sleeping soundly on my right side as I write this. And thoroughly amazed our family unit has grown. It's all so surreal. 

It's all so amazing. 

To My Mum

Happy Birthday, Mum.

Sometimes, as we grow up, we forget our parents are real people. When you get older, and hopefully wiser, you see them in a new light. They are human beings and they have thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams, ideas and expectations, disappointments and blessings, hurts and comforts. When you first realize this, you have to sit down, especially when you start recounting all the stupid things you did and said, how uncaring your teenage years were. How you never really stopped to think about what your parents may have wanted out of life and how you may have messed up that plan.

If you're lucky, your parents become your friends. Sure, they are still that authority figure you hated having as a kid and love having as a grown up. Someone to turn to and count on. A person who will, even though you hate it, tell you you're being dumb, even when you think you're being smart. As you get older, you turn towards your parents, like I have. I go to you when I am lost and confused, broken and beaten, but also when I have joyous things to report. You are my friend, mum. You are the one I want to talk to when I discover a new truth about life or when I have debunked an idea I thought to be true.

I am lucky to have you in my life. A person who cares unconditionally for me and wants me to be happy. That's truly a wonderful thing to me. To know, no matter where I go or what I do, that there is at least one person in my corner, rooting for me, on my team. It's nice to know I have backup, who will listen, and defend, fight if need be, and if not, then send Dad to do some dirty work.

Life is complicated and weird. Sometimes I don't know up from down, but through all the complicated weirdness, I know you are there. To offer what advice you can. And when you have no advice, to simply say, "I don't know what to tell you" and it's funny because even that feels good, because at least we have no idea together.

There is beauty here on this Earth, despite the complications and weirdness. While I certainly inherited your introverted quirks, your misanthropic tendencies, I also won your love of nature. Your ability to cherish creatures big and small. And I am cultivating your respect for Mother Nature and all she holds, teaching anyone who will listen how important it is to listen, watch, and feel the sun, moon and stars. I take notice of the dew glittering like diamonds as it clings to the blades of grass in the morning sun. This is your imprint on me.

When I am walking along and I am dumbstruck by the beauty of what surrounds me, I think of you. It happens daily. And we hold a connection that vibrates through this earth and will always exist, no matter what. This gives me comfort. It gives me peace.

There are many things I want to thank you for, but there are not enough words or time to do so. We'd be here for hours. Days. Months. This is a blanket thank you. A blanket I love you. And a blanket, I'm thinking of you.

Xox

Little Star

Somewhere along my travels I picked up this ring:

It's been in my jewellery for years. I can't say where I got it from, not definitively, but if I had to venture a guess, I'd say my mother. Or grandmother. Actually, now that I think about it, grandmother does ring a bell. Over a decade ago, she gave me this bag of necklaces, rings and earrings she didn't want anymore, that she was passing along.

Both my mother and grandmother had gorgeous jewellery boxes. I always thought when I got older I'd have a jewellery box matching the calibre of theirs, one I'd store all my silver and gold and secrets in. I envisioned sitting on my bed with my daughter going through a finely carved wooden box, as I had done with my mother and grandmother alike. It was one of those things I really loved to do. In fact, I think the last time I went up to visit my mom we did this again. Of course, she didn't want to let go of the really good stuff. Just kidding.

 The truth is, I don't have a jewellery box. And all my necklaces are this jumble of chains that I'd have to sit down and dedicate a night or two to untangling. Still, I do have some jewellery and, if I do have a daughter, or son, I'm not one to gender identify these tasks, maybe they will want to go through this small box of trinkets, pendants and pins with me. I'll explain to them it's a kind of tradition.

Is this something a lot of little girls did with their mothers? And did your mothers have your baby teeth in their jewellery boxes? My mom did. That memory just came back to me now. Haven't thought about that in forever.

Now, back to the ring I was talking about. I will confirm with my mother to see if she recognizes it. I can't say exactly how many years it's been in my possession, but I just noticed something fabulous about it. On the inside band, there is a little star engraved.

I've never been attached to this ring. Don't get me wrong, it came from my grandmother (or mother), so obviously I cherish it, but it wasn't ever something I wore. It simply sat in my non-jewellery-box jewellery box and existed. But this little star has changed that. This little star has made my night a little brighter.

I am wondering who put the star there and why.

Funny how noticing something so small and seemingly insignificant can change the value of an object. This ring is now one of my most favourite things. I always considered myself a fairly observant person, but somehow I missed this little star. And I wonder, is there a reason I have noticed this star now? Tonight? Eh, that's probably just my overactive imagination demanding to be noticed again.

Huzzah for being perceptive and giving new value to something you took for granted.

And pardon my hands that are in need of a manicure or, at the very least, some lotion.

Mother Wisdom

Life can be frustrating. I think we can all agree on that fact. 

Today, the property management company that plays God to the home we live swung by for an inspection only to tell us the owners are planning to sell. Furthermore, the landlords think too much hydro is being used so they don't want to pay anymore. Fine, I guess, except we are already overpaying for the place. Trust me when I say this. We are totally overpaying. 

So, it's a bit on the annoying side. 

That being said, I am also looking into selling the condo I purchased several years ago on the mainland. Which isn't easy either, not for my heart or head. Basically, it's going to be an uncomfortable and worrisome next couple of months. I am a worrier, and I don't like upsetting people, especially myself. But I know what's coming down the pipe. Money. Interactions. Bank meetings. Real estate conversations. Mass panic. All that fun stuff. 

My blood pressure is getting the best of me. And I know I need to calm down. I have to clear the thoughts. In with the positive energy. Out with the negative. 

Except, I am really terrible at that. Or, to put a more positive spin on it, I am excellent at sucking at being positive. 

Then I called my mom. It's the fail safe thing to do.

She offered up what she called 'mother wisdom'. 

Project what you want, she said. Put it out into the world, she said. And believe it will happen. 

It's the last part that's hard for me. Still, I believe in 'mother wisdom'. And she's telling me what I already hold true in my heart. So, I choose to believe this will all work out for me. That everything will fall into place for everyone involved. There will be happiness. And this time next year I will be laughing over what a worry wart I used to be. 

That's what I am doing now. Putting it out into the world. Following Mother Wisdom's advice. All I want is a small house with some trees around it. A fixer upper would be great. A yard for some gardening. Some place where I can have my pets and just sink my feet into the forest floor. 

Pass the word along. 

I also drew a picture of it and put it on the fridge to remind myself everyday what it is I am striving for. 

And thank goodness for Mother Wisdom.