Finn at five

Finn, you are an amazing little boy. Every single day you amaze me. You are thoughtful and bright, affectionate and curious.

You come home from daycare and school with big issues. You were offended that one kid at daycare would not believe that boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls. Then just yesterday, you said "I learned something at school. Transgender. It's like when you are a boy on the outside but feel like a girl on the inside." Kindergarten is absolutely not how I remember it. You shine on big issues, but you also feel great conflict when you hear something you feel just isn't right. When your teacher told you God created the world, you struggled with it immensely. That is, perhaps, a little too much for a five year old. But you worry about big things. Like me getting old and dying and you having no mom. Or me getting old and not looking like I do now. You don't want to get married but you do want kids. Apparently all girls but mom are not so great.

You are an incredible eater. You will claim hunger five minutes after we finish supper. You sometimes eat four breakfasts. Cereal, then bagels, then cheese and crackers and finally a banana and two oranges. Between you and Lily, you can polish off a whole cheese pizza. You complain about the meat sandwiches at daycare. You are a sugar fiend when we go to Nana's, helping her whittle down her gummy bears and worms. You love tofu and sweet potatoes, but only eat the stems off broccoli. Ketchup is still the condiment of choice for almost everything.

And oh, the love you dish out. To me anyway. You always "out-love" me, loving me to infinity over my billions of universes that I love you. We spend a lot of time cuddling. So much so that you will wake in the middle of the night and say "Cuddle me!" before you can go back to sleep. It could be worse. You also love to accompany me when I go out or if you are not with me, you often FaceTime me when I've gone out. You use Siri to text me and dad and Lily. Though she often gets it wrong, it usually has to do with poop.

You have recently decided you want to be an inventor, or an engineer scientist or a graphic design scientist. This is because last year you got worried that becoming a police officer would be too hard. You constantly asked questions like, "Do you have to write a test to be a police officer? How strong do you have to be?" You have caught on to French - and to school in general - like a boss. You speak a lot of French and sing all the songs. You actually love to sing. We belt out songs spontaneously all the time. Thank god because no one else will sing with me like that as often as I like.

For the first time, in preparation for next year, you and Lily walked home from school together. I watched from the window, waiting. Then I saw you two – holding hands while walking down the sidewalk. You adore Lily so much, but never when me and dad are around. You even "like" dad now, up from "I don't love anyone but you, Mom." But we know you do. Lily takes such good care of you when I'm not there. All she wants to do is kiss and hug you. That's how cute you are. But honestly, who care blame her.

Grade three!

Wow. I can't believe my only girl is in grade three. I remember grade three. Which means everything now makes an impression. Everything. And she's mature and loving and playful. She sleeps better, eats lots and is wicked awesome on the monkey bars. Her independence is growing and she loves ever second of the adventure of being on her own. Big year. Big time.

Summer 2013!

I hate thinking that it's over now, but in between intermittent warm days, I think the reality is that summer is now over. But it was a good one.

Lots of campfires at Bob and Lori's on the weekends; a couple excursions to Rowan's Ravine with them on long weekends – even one where we left Lily overnight; a weekend at Grandma and Grandpa's for tubing and seadooing; a prolific garden supplying us with steady fresh produce; lots of backyard fun with Jack and Carly; Finn independently going to the bathroom and some botched escape plots; lots of visits to the farmer's market; a spray park playdate with Mason; Lily's birthday party and all of it's preparations; going on bike rides, or to the park; taking a week off work for a whirlwind holiday to Cypress Hills, Carolyn's place in Priddis and a couple days in Calgary; Daddy taking Lily and Carly swimming in the evenings after 7 p.m. because it's free then; brunch at Creeson's house; visits from Ferguson; zucchini; peach jam, fig jam, strawberry jam; basil pesto; applesauce from cousin Heather's apple tree; bluejays and squirrels.

But getting back into the swing of things won't be so bad. Can't keep up that pace forever...though I might like a couple more months. Just happy we can make the most of it. Cheers! (Oh right, and wine was a big part of our summer, too.)

Lily's 8th Birthday!

It was terrific scientific party this year. Lily wanted a science experiment party, so we delivered. A choice group of scientists, complete with personalized security badges, gained unrestricted access to the birthday laboratory. Then the fun – and learning – began.

Even Finn needed access to the great meeting of the scientific minds.

Experiment 1 – Sandwich bag bombs

Experiement 2 – Elephant toothpaste...just kept expanding and expanding.

Experiment 4 – Tie-dye milk

Experiment 5 – Goop

Experiment 6 – Frankenstein's hand

Experiment 7 – Mentos in Diet Coke

The day was a success. The weather cooperated, she got some great presents (including some earrings from her BFF) and there was cake and root beer floats. It couldn't get much better.

Happy 8th Birthday, Lily!

The meeting

I met Carolyn. I think we might be related...

We met in Medicine Hat this past weekend. The most anxious part was walking into her hotel room. But once we got some nervous pre-meeting banter out of the way through a crack in the door, I went in. And there she was. She's so familiar. Obviously because she looks like my mom, but also because it's starting to feel like she's been there my entire life.

But she wasn't – and the bright side of that is that we get to be sisters without all that baggage. Without the nasty teenage fights. Without the same traumas and dramas.

The weekend was good. Good to just talk and hang out – oh, and compare our physical features at length. There were dinners out, breakfasts at the hotel, bento boxes for lunch, 90-minute massages, and watching Identity Thief. The finer details of it all needn't be shared. (And not just because I got sloppy drunk and regrettably extolled the virtues of higher education and was embarrassingly hungover most of the entire day Saturday. I can admit that...)

We're kinda the same, more than we are different. And we're kinda smitten with one another. It's nice. Good. Exactly as it should be.

A video momento of my and Carolyn's first meeting from Hood/Anderson on Vimeo.

He's three!

Oh, my sweetest little Finn! You turned three years old! And since then, you've had this monumental leap in personality and thoughtfulness...even though you fell heavily, splat, right out of Lily's bed last night and flat on your tummy onto the hard floor. It didn't shake any brains out, though.

Physical heft aside, and you have visibly grown lately, you are kind and gentle. Unless Lily gets all up in your business...which often happens. (Unless I'm not there. Then apparently you don't fight at all because you two are not vying for my attention! Who would have thought?) But you love to share your toast, or your gum, or really anything you have with anyone. You are very attuned to other's feelings which is why I can "cry" and you will softly comfort me. You even blow me kisses through the window as you ride your tricycle and helmet on the patio and melt my heart.

Dad said the other day you asked if you could throw something out the front window. He said no, then went back downstairs. A few minutes later you yelled, "Dad, come see what I did!" When he arrived, he saw that while you hadn't thrown the original item out, a toy cash register, other toys and magazines had been hurled onto the path below. But we seldom get upset, likely because we're just reveling in your pride and utter cuteness when declaring these things. Besides, your feelings are easily hurt. You come from a long line of sensitive people.

You are convinced you a big boy and while I won't disagree, you seriously think we should let you drive the van home from daycare. True story! But you're still not potty trained. At times, you will protest, screamingly, the taking off or putting on of diapers. Which is too bad because you are so good at peeing on the toilet, especially since Mezia implemented jelly bean rewards. (Apparently Smarties weren't as strong an incentive.) Pooping is currently your downfall. You can't squat on the toilet, therefore you don't consider it an option. No rush, my last baby.

We had your birthday party on your actual birthday, a Thursday. Lily wanted Carly there as your birthday is her half birthday and well, her birthday is your half birthday. Nana came, too. We started with presents as I couldn't see a reason to make you wait. You got so much awesome stuff! A zoo Duplo set and book from Uncle Nigel, Auntie Jessie and Ferguson; a semi truck and digger Lego set from Grandma and Grandpa; a pirate treasure chest with dagger, spy scope, bandanna, etc., and pirate figurines from Nana; a bunch of big boy gotch from Carly and Jack; a Captain Hook cuff with fishing rod, canon, net, hook set from Lily; and a large pirate sword with treasure map, etc. and Spiderman mask from Mom and Dad. After, we ate supper of mac 'n' cheese and sweet potato fries before calling Jack to join us for cake. You blew your candles out like a pro. Things got a little dodgy after that with lots of crying so after Carly and Jack went home, you went to bed and were asleep within minutes.


You are a big, beautiful, bright boy whom we all adore. Happy birthday, Finn!