Sometimes, I Even Dance

Goofball in full effect

Four years ago on New Year’s Eve, I moved into my new home.  My ex-husband and I had separated five months before but had continued to live in the same house up until then as I looked for work and we tried to figure out how to do this whole thing (yep, lived in the same house as my ex for five months…good times).  I found a place on Kijiji – a three bedroom house, the main floor of one side of a duplex – and as soon as I saw the ad, I knew it was the right place for the girls and I.  I got the keys and began moving my things in on December 31st, 2012.

It was a difficult night but a good one.  An important one, and it was so appropriate that I was beginning my new life with a new year.  I took my wedding ring off at exactly midnight because I’m dramatic like that sometimes (Drama?  I have a degree in it!).  I vowed to myself that I would move forward and find my way and be strong.

Tonight, my plans got cancelled and I find myself home alone again on New Year’s Eve.  But this time, it feels different.  Four years ago, I was lonely.  Tonight, I’m just alone, and happily so.  Four years ago, I was terrified.  Now, I have my fears but I am brave.  I have made it this far and I’m still standing and sometimes, I even dance.  Four years ago, I didn’t know who I was and I felt I couldn’t be whole on my own.  Tonight, I am in the company of someone I love to be with, someone I have come to know and finally care for: Myself. 

I know now that I am a good person.  I know that I am stronger and more capable than I ever expected and than was probably ever expected of me.  I know that I am a goofball and any man who doesn’t find me funny is not the man for me.  I know that I am my favourite and truest self when my sister is home with me and we are laughing.  I know I will beat you at Scrabble unless you’re my mother.  I know my daughters think I hung the moon and I know that I am deserving of that love and honour.

I know that I can be alone on New Year’s Eve in my bed with my wine and my early 90s hip hop and my comfy leggings and I can be perfectly happy.

My counsellor often says to me, “And do you give yourself credit for that?”  I have a tendency to view progress in my life as an act of fate, as the result of some good fortune and not, in fact, as a result of the hard work I have put into enacting the changes that have made that progress possible.  I look back at these last four years and it could be said that not much has changed.  I am in the same rented home.  I have fewer dollars in my bank account and am in fact making less money than I was then.  I am still single.  But these are not failures.  I have made a home for my children where they are warm and loved, a place I am always happy to come home to.  And if my furnace breaks down, someone comes to fix it with no cost to me.  That’s not too shabby.  I left the job that paid well but was costing me my mental health, and I’m now in a job that doesn’t give me a lot in my bank account, but gives me confidence and a feeling that I’m doing something important.  I’d still like to find love, but I no longer need to.  There’s enough love in this home to last me a lifetime and alone is not lonely.  Alone is dancing in your favourite dress lip synching to Montell Jordan’s “This is How We Do It” and no man can make me feel better than that.

Four years, and sometimes the pain of it all is a breath away and sometimes the memories are like the scenes of a movie I saw once and can barely remember.  The fact is that a lot has changed.  I’m not the same person I was then.  I am the woman excavated from her.  Under all that fear and doubt was this woman who I am proud to be.  Flawed and at times still flailing.  Imperfect and at times beautifully impolite.  But fierce and loving and talented and busting her ass to make this short life a good one.

2017.  We’re properly in the 21st century now, kids.  It’s the 21st century so let’s live like we understand how amazing that is.  This is the future.  We’ve made it.  And we can make this year whatever we want it to be.

Four years from now, I hope I am as happy as I am tonight, whatever happiness is to me then. Whether I’m full to the brim after a year of incredible experiences with my daughters, or because of a job I love, or because I’ve written something that feels like the gorgeous truth, or because I’m in a relationship that celebrates the best of who we are together and alone.  Or simply because I have a pretty dress to wear and Montell Jordan to play on my iPhone.

I wish you and yours this kind of happiness, too.  Turn up the music and dance and celebrate how far you’ve come and the amazing things awaiting you.  Happy New Year, dear friends.  Here's to a great one.

Sisu

If you hang around Finnish people long enough (five minutes or so), you're bound to hear them talk about Sisu.  Sisu is a Finn term that is central to who we Finns are and what we're about, but it's challenging to define.  Here is Wikipedia's best attempt: "stoic determination, grit, bravery, guts, resilience, perseverance and hardiness."  The thing is, it's even more than that.  It's about taking action in the face of adversity.  It's about rising up and moving forward and keeping at it despite setbacks.  As noted later in that article, it's "a consistent, courageous approach toward challenges which at first seem to exceed our capacities."

Unfortunately, Sisu isn't sold in stores unless you count the multivitamins by that name, which I suspect, while helpful, don't really do the job.  Rather, Sisu is that inner strength that you tap into, or try to, when shit gets real.  I would argue that it's something you're born with, Finn or otherwise, although it sometimes feels elusive.  

To my mind, there are some important things that Sisu is not. 

Sisu is not infallibility. It doesn't mean that every move you make is the right one.  It means that you see setbacks as an opportunity for a running start to your relaunch.

Sisu is also not unflappability.  It is not about steeling yourself, grinning and bearing it, nor is it about denying the struggle and all the bad feelings and experiences that struggle brings.  It's about carrying on in spite of them.

Sisu is not a limited resource.  It is your full potential and the source of all you are capable of accomplishing and overcoming, which is more than you think.  It is always there.  Sometimes you have to dig deep, but it is there. 

As an imperfectly translated concept, the quality of Sisu is the topic of pretty animated discussion amongst academics and, I imagine, Finns who like their vodka.  I belong to the school of thought that Sisu is something that you can cultivate: that there are ways you can strengthen the pathway to this wellspring of grit and determination to improve ease of access for when you need it the most.  I've been thinking about how to do just that and these are a few of the techniques I'm trying:

• Be still. I think Sisu is what's left when all else falls away. It's that quiet voice that whispers "You got this" and sometimes you need to be still for awhile, away from distractions, so you can listen for it.
  

• Sit with it. Once you've sensed the Sisu within you, sit with it awhile. Get familiar with how it feels to be strong and capable, so you'll recognize that feeling within you when you most need to, even when the signal is weak.
  

• Trace the story of the Sisu within you. This is really more of that cognitive behavioural therapy technique I've talked about before that involves examining the evidence. Think about the times when you've thought you couldn't go on...and then you did. Once you get to thinking about it, you'll likely find that there have been a lot of times in your life when your Sisu has carried you through. And if it was there for you then, it is here for you now.
  

• Find inspiration in others. Sisu is what my great-grandmother surely drew upon when she travelled across the ocean with two young children (one of whom was sick) to follow her husband to Canada, a new home she knew nothing of, knowing she would likely never again see the family and friends she left behind. When I feel like I can't keep going, I think of her and I remind myself that her blood flows through my veins, that her Sisu is my own.
  

• Strengthen your Sisu. Think about other sources of strength in your life. These could be family or friends you love, motivational quotes or stories that inspire you, leaders or mentors who you look up to, or articulated goals that you're working toward that keep you focused. Consider keeping physical reminders of these sources of strength close at hand (i.e. photos of your loved ones, post-it note quotes, an illustration or magazine clipping that reminds you of your goal). For me, the two greatest sources of strength in my life are my daughters; they are the reasons I dig deep to call up my inner strength and keep going. It is appropriate, then, that my daughter wrote the word Sisu for me to include on my inspiration wall (above). Every time I look at it, I'm reminded that I possess a fiery Sisu of my own, and my little one and her big sister fan that flame.

(You know when you've said or written a word so many times that it begins to sound weird?  I think we're there.  Sisusisusisusisu.)

Ultimately, Sisu is not about being so strong that you never fall down but, rather, about getting back up when you do.  Chumbawumba really knew what they were talking about.  

As do the Finns, so you should really listen to me/them.  And you know what else will probably happen if you hang around Finnish people?  You'll be fed Finnish pancakes the size of your FACE.  

Hold up - Sisu may just be the power of pancakes.  Disregard all of the above.

How to Fall

Over the weekend, the girls and I took a trip to the playground, where an amazing thing happened: My little one, the firecracker, finally got the swing of the monkey bars.  

She made it two rungs, then fell.  She got back up.  She made it four rungs, then fell.  She got back up.  She fell straight away.  She got back up.  A few short minutes later and she had managed eight rungs in a row before falling, and she was beaming with excitement.  But she wasn't a big fan of the falling part.  

I found myself coaching her on how to fall.  I explained to her that, just like with learning how to do the monkey bars, falling takes practice.  "You've got to practice falling so you can learn how to fall without getting hurt." 

There are a few keys to falling safely, you see.

• You have to remain calm. You can't do the things you need to do to protect yourself from harm if you panic and flail about.
  

• You have to expect to hit the ground. Maybe there's someone to catch you and if so, that's wonderful. Safety nets and loving arms are fantastic for falling into. But they're not always there. Recognize that you are capable of controlling the fall and landing on your own two feet, when things slip out of your grasp.
  

• You have to fall with those two feet beneath you, so that when you land, you can hold yourself up. If you can get your two feet beneath you, if you can do whatever is in your power to help yourself, you can steady yourself and rise back up to standing.
  

• You have to bend your knees when you land, so you can handle the weight of the fall. You have to stay flexible so you can adapt to the new ground you're standing on and find your balance.
  

• You have to go easy on yourself when a fall doesn't go as planned, when all the things you've tried to do to protect to yourself have failed and you hit rock bottom and fall flat on your face. Not everything goes to plan and you did your best. Falling takes practice.

My daughter thinks that the idea of practicing falling is pretty hilarious.  That's okay.  She already understands the most important thing about falling:  You have to get back up.

Searching for Spring

In my part of the world, winter can be a beast.  It tends to arrive fierce and furious some time around November (sometimes earlier) and doesn't let up until...well, it's anyone's guess, really.  There's a saying that March is "in like a lion, out like a lamb" but these past few years it has been more like "in like a lion, ooh yay it's a lamb, nope sorry, out like an even angrier lion, suckers!"  Case in point: last week, the kids were outside in shorts and t-shirts.  Yesterday, it snowed.  Our front porch is home to both the snow shovel and the scooters, at the moment, prepared as we are for all possibilities.

Many people find winter a challenge.  The shovelling, the scraping, the icy roads, the snowpants-and-mitts-and-scarves-and-hats-and-coats-and-losing-of-one's-mind, the freezing off of faces and exposed limbs - it's a little much.  And for those who have depression or are otherwise facing a trying time in their lives, the darkness and the somewhat forced isolation, as we settle in for our yearly hibernation, can be particularly difficult.  We pray for warm weather.  We beg for it.  We count down the days and search for signs of spring.  Anything.  Any sign at all to keep us going.

A funny thing happens in this part of the world as March comes along and we near the date of the "official start of spring" (a laughable concept, of course - as if Mother Nature checks the calendar! - but sometimes it's the only bit of hope we can cling to).  We search for signs of spring, and divide into camps.  

I've heard tell of those who mourn the loss of the bitter winds and the short days, real "winter lovers" which seems to me to be an oxymoron.  I try not to associate with such people myself because WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT but apparently they exist.  And they're not all skiers and snowboarders and other winter sport nut bars. It seems some people just like winter (I blame the parents).  And I guess as the days grow longer and the beautiful warm sunshine reappears they shriek and shield their eyes and melt with the frost.  I don't really know.  

And then there are those who will take any little bit of hope they can get their hands on.  "It's a balmy -15C, guys!  My skin didn't immediately go numb with frostbite!  Let's head to the beach!"  These are the people dodging sleet in their sneakers and Bermuda shorts.  You've seen them.  They are another brand of nut bar but you've got to hand it to them: they are working with what they've got and making the best of it.  

A slightly more reasonable version of these optimistic freaks are those who quite simply REACH THEIR LIMIT.  At a certain point, despite the forecast, they decide that enough is enough and they banish their winter gear to the darkest recesses of their closets where they will remain untouched, dammit, for at least seven months no matter what happens because YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME, WEATHER!  They know the risk they're taking because as soon as they have taken their bold stand and traded their down coats for jean jackets OF COURSE Jack Frost will return.  And be a total dick.  But they just can't take one more minute.  

In the final camp are those who remain cocooned in their crocheted infinity scarves long after winter's last dying breath.  It's full-on flip-flop season and they're layered up and have brought along a fleece pullover "just in case".  Because you never know.  That's how winter gets you.  You think it's all done and then BOOM.  July.  Snowstorm.  You'll be wishing you packed your parka, then!  

It seems to me that these attitudes reflect how we feel about hope.

For some, there's either no need for hope - they revel in the darkness - or hope is simply absent.  There's no point in wishing for spring, because it feels as though spring will never come.  There's no such thing as better days ahead.

For others, hope is abundant and reasons to keep going are easily found.  The buds on the trees.  The smile of a passing stranger.  They're the tulip fighting its way through the soil on the promise of that one speck of light above.

Others take matters into their own hands.  They don't wait for signs of spring.  They decide that they will live as if it is spring, creating hope as they go, despite the flurries in the forecast.  

And then there are those who let the fear and darkness block out the blinding light.  Sunshine and opportunity can abound and they worry that at any moment it will all be lost.  They remain frozen in their vigilance.

There are some who live their lives forever camped in one of these places but I think for most of us, we move between them.  This is certainly the case for me, and I think that all of these perspectives can be right, at least for a time.  It is natural to feel hopeless sometimes.  It is okay to be in that darkness.  And it makes sense to be scared.  Do freak July snowstorms happen?  They sure do.  But I'd like to suggest that the supplies you need are close at hand and you've been through this before.  You can trust that you will dig your way out with the shovels of tenacity and loving support and your own strength.  You can let your guard down because this arsenal remains at the ready whenever you need it.

I've been searching for spring these past few months and for my part, today I'm going to put the snow shovel away.  Enough is enough.  I know that means I'm courting disaster.  But I have faith that I'll make it through if it comes.   

Today, I will put away the fears that have held me frozen.

Today, I will banish the doubts that hold me back.  

Today, I will shed the layers that no longer keep me safe but, rather, block me from feeling the sun. 

I will be the tulip.  

I see the light. 

My Closed Door Policy

Hello from the outside

I've been thinking a lot lately about closed doors.   

We have all encountered closed doors in our lives:  those times when the chain is on, the bridge is drawn, and that thing that we really want is on the other side, out of reach.  Relationships we hoped to have.  Promotions we worked hard for.  Groups we longed to be a part of.  Jobs we thought would be perfect.  For my part, I've tried to pick the locks on a seemingly endless supply of closed doors these past few years, as I've pursued new career paths and relationships, with increasing frustration.  Time and time again, it seems, I get excited about a new opportunity, take a step forward, even get my foot in the door, only to have it slammed shut.

Recently, I had the experience of encountering yet another closed door.  I had been excitedly researching options for going back to school in a particular area of study that I have long thought would be a great fit for me.  I had decided that it was so obviously my path.  And yet, as I tried to find a way to make my dream a reality, I discovered that everywhere I turned I was met with closed doors.  This program is at a school that is too far away.  The one in town won't accept me because I already have a university degree.  This one looks amazing and I can complete it online and...oh, it would cost me my first-born (I'm partial to her).  As I flailed and cursed about yet another door closed in my face, I suddenly had the thought: "Maybe this door is closed for a reason."  

Huh.  I sat still for a few minutes, letting that sink in.  And then, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

I still really wanted that thing.  I was still frustrated.  I was no closer to figuring out what I was going to do next to move my career forward.  But I realized that although I may be powerless to open the closed doors, I have the power to change how I think about them and I can change my strategy for dealing with them.  

So I have devised a new approach: My Closed Door Policy.   These are the steps I plan to take the next time I'm left out in the cold.

1)  Feel the Feelings

Allow yourself to get sad, or frustrated, or angry, or all of those emotions at once.  Give yourself some time to feel whatever you feel.  It's tough when there's something you really want and you can't have it, especially when you've worked really hard to batter that door down.  Go ahead and cry and flail and curse.  Throw eggs at the closed door.  Figuratively, not literally, unless it was a relationship you wanted and he or she left you for someone younger, then by all means (although there are plenty of better doors).  It's natural to be upset.  Let it out.

2)  Stomp the Sour Grapes

Go one step further than just being upset.  Think about all the reasons why you didn't really want that thing in the first place.  It could be said that this "sour grapes" approach is not the most emotionally mature and is perhaps moderately delusional, but I think there's something to be said for thinking through all the not-so-great things that would have come along with the prize on the other side of the door, that now you don't have to deal with.  He was really funny and sweet, but now you don't have to spend every Friday night listening to him play in his terrible band.  That job paid well and might have been a good step in your career, but the hour-long commute would have been awful.  You really really liked her, but not so much spending time in her disgusting apartment.  Also, remember that you can't predict the future.  Those grapes looked delicious but I bet they were sour!  They very well could have been.  The fact is that you just don't know that what was on the other side of the door was as great as it seemed.  So this is the only time you'll hear me give this advice: assume the worst.  It would probably have been terrible.  Phew, guys.  Dodged a bullet there.

3) Conduct a Post-Mortem

Hold on a second: DID you really want that thing anyway?  Take some time to consider whether what was on the other side of the door was really the best option for you.  Sometimes it happens that we're so caught up in the pursuit, so busy knocking on a particular door, that we lose sight of the fact that there are all sorts of other doors we could be knocking on.  Think about why you wanted what you wanted, and then consider if what was behind Door #1 was really going to give you that.  The answer may very well be an emphatic YES.  "YES, I really wanted that thing and I still really want it!"  That's completely fair.  So now what?  Now, conduct a post-mortem.  What did you do to try to get it?  Why did it maybe not work? What could you do differently next time?  What other steps could you take to try to get it?  Maybe there's another way in.  But if the answer is "NO, you know what, I don't know what I was thinking, I don't really want that thing"...well advance to go and collect $200.

4) Search for the Silver Linings

Assuming you're not quite ready to advance to go, this step is when we quit our stomping about and focus on the positive.  The fact is that every missed opportunity leaves room for a better one.  So you can't have the thing you wanted?  What might you get instead?  This doesn't even have to be about creating a whole new big dream.  Keep it small: What are some of the positive things about the closed door?  I'll give you some personal examples.  I didn't get the job = I have extra time with my kids.  I didn't win the writing competition = I can work on making that piece even better before it is eventually published, which it obviously will be.  That relationship ended = I have more time to write on my website!  Even if the positive stuff doesn't make you feel all that positive at first, take some time to think about the good little things that might now come, and start to dream up the new big dreams too.  If you like the thought of destiny, maybe consider (as I did) that perhaps those doors are closed because that's not the path you're meant to be on.  Think about whether there may be another, better path for you.

A word of caution, however:  Sometimes a closed door is so difficult to cope with because we made the door THE ANSWER.  We constructed a storyline such as "Once I have this, this will happen" or "I'm supposed to have this thing to make up for the other thing I didn't get" and we overloaded the attainment of that thing on the other side with a whole lot of expectations.  Be cautious, in dreaming up the new big dreams, that you don't carry this process forward.  This step is about being optimistic, but it's important that you don't simply shift all your expectations on to the attainment of the next thing.  For example: This relationship probably didn't work out because he's not the man of my dreams and the next man totally will be and then my life will be perfect!  There are lots of ways in to the perfect life.  One door (one person, one job, one opportunity) is still just one door.  No matter how good that door looks in a three-piece suit.

5) Examine the Evidence

I'm straight up stealing this from my years of cognitive behavioural therapy (the fact that I've had years of therapy despite using this technique should not reflect poorly on the effectiveness of this technique).  SURELY this isn't the first closed door you've encountered.  What happened in the past?  Did you find another way in?  Did you find another door?  Did you cope?  If you're still standing then I'm going to assume a Yes, at least to that last one.  If you take the time to look back on the times when your way down a particular path was blocked, you may find that much of the time, in hindsight, it was really for the best.  Yes, that relationship ended.  But then you met someone new who was better for you.  No, you didn't make the team.  But then you joined that other club and made some of the best friends of your life.  Yes, a couple/dozen/hundred times the doors slammed in your face, but you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and soldiered on.  Just like then, you can get through this now.  And there's a good chance that some day you'll look back on this closed door and thank your lucky stars you never crossed that threshold.

6) Have Faith

This could be faith in God or the Universe or some other form of spiritual power, if that brings you some comfort and helps you get through the tough times when life just isn't going your way.  I'm personally more interested, though, in the faith we place in ourselves and our ability to move forward and to enact change in our own lives.  It can be difficult to have faith.  It's one thing when we have the benefit of hindsight, when a new door is open and we can see why it was a good thing that the other was closed.  It's a lot more challenging when we are still knocking on doors and figuring out a new path.  It's hard to stay patient and optimistic.  But try to have some faith in yourself.  You've handled closed doors before and forged new ways forward. You will get through this and you will create an amazing life.  You can find the keys.  Better yet: you can create your own doorways.

As for me and my most recent closed door?  Having reached the dead-end of that career path, having had that thought that those doors may have been closed for a reason, I stepped back to reflect on what I want in my life.  I thought about other ways I could get there.  And I came across a new path with several optional doors that all seem to be open, at least a crack, a path that I feel even more excited about than the first.  There's still a long way to go and there are still plenty of other doorbells to ring that may go unanswered.  But I'm going to keep the faith, keep my new policy at hand, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, into the open door cracks.  Perhaps, this time, in steel-toed boots.

8 Lessons From My 8-Year-Old

Every year for her birthday, I draw Isla a picture of that number of animals in the shape of that number. I was sure she'd tell me to stop by now. She told me recently that I have to keep doing this until she's 26. Game on.

We celebrated my daughter Isla's 8th birthday at the end of October.  This seems preposterous.  She was a baby just yesterday, I'm sure of it.  But alas, it is true.  My 57-pound bundle of joy barely fits on my lap these days, and more and more I can see the young woman she is becoming behind those beautiful eyes that still light up at the thought of the tooth fairy visiting.  We talk about how she saw Santa downtown last month, "the real Santa, Mum," and then we discuss profit margins and marketing strategies for the bakery she wants to own some day.  It's beautiful, baring witness to this time in her life, this in-between.  I want to hold fast to my baby and keep her little just awhile longer, but I also can't wait to meet this young woman and see her take on this life.  

I started to draft a post about the 8 most important lessons I want to teach her as she grows up, but as I began to brainstorm my list, I realized that she came into this world with an awe-inspiring wisdom and spirit all her own, and she has already learned so much in her 8 years here.  And all this while, it turns out, she has been the one teaching me.  These are just 8 of the most important lessons I have learned from her, so far:

1)  Monkey Bars or Bust

This past summer, my daughter's one goal was to master the monkey bars.  When she started out, she could barely reach them.  Every ounce of her little body strained for her fingertips to grip the paint-flaked metal.  Every bit of her strength rallied to pull those little toes off the ground.  She'd take one swing, grasping for the next rung, and fall.  She'd get back up.  She'd try again.  When her palms got sweaty and slippery, she would dust them with the wood shavings underneath the playground, like a rock climber chalking her hands.   She'd get frustrated, and I'd ask her now and then if she wanted to take a break, go down the slide, play tag.  "No," she'd say defiantly.  It was monkey bars or bust, and by the end of the summer, she could make it across and back, go backwards, skip rungs.  Let me tell you: that first time she made it across, the joy on her face...that's what we live for as parents and that's what we should live for as people lucky enough to have a chance on this planet.  And so she has taught me to persevere: to get back up, dust my hands, and try and try again until I've made it across.

2)  One Box of Smarties = Six Months of Delight

My step-dad, Frank, came into our lives at the same time that Isla did; in fact, I first met him in the hospital waiting room, my daughter in my arms.  It took awhile for us to all get to know each other, but in time he became not only a father figure to me, but a grandfather to my children.  And like any grandfather, he liked to spoil his grandkids.  Nearly every time he came to visit, he would arrive with a box of Smarties tucked in his shirt pocket.  This gift of his was so reliable that Isla called them "Frank treats" and she looooved her Frank treats.  She would carefully choose just the right one, hold it in her tiny fingers, and lick it, enjoying it little by little, making it last (literally) hours.  She continues to do this with any treat or luxury: she thoroughly enjoys it, lives in the moment, and makes it last.  

We lost Frank two years ago but every time I see a box of "Frank treats" I think of him and the love and little candy-coated hours of happiness he shared with the girls.

3)  Hearts are Made for Loving

A card from Isla with a picture of her giving me the same card. Whoa.

Isla is the most loving, compassionate person I've ever met.  She walks into every situation, every relationship, with the question: What can I do to make their day a little brighter?  I've come to realize that this website would be entirely unnecessary if I just turned the spotlight on her.  She can show us how to find joy.  It's simple: you find joy for yourself by giving it to others.  I wake up to her beaming smile, so excited to lead me to the breakfast she made especially for me ("No peeking, Mum!").  She tells me that there's a new kid in her class, who she introduced herself to at recess and invited to play.  It is difficult to leave our house without some sort of card or drawing or craft in your pocket, or a loving hug wrapped around your waist.  She gives with her whole heart, without expecting anything in return.

4)  Fun is Fun!

Isla is also the silliest person I've ever met.  And like any properly silly person, she is a natural connoisseur of the ridiculous.  Like her mother, Isla has never met a pun she didn't like, and jokes of any kind (but particularly of the knock-knock variety) are hilarious and to be encouraged with booming belly laughs.  I have learned that when I want to make her day a little brighter, I need only walk into the room with something on my head or crawling on all fours like a bear.  I once found a lone sock on the floor and picked it up and pretended it was my baby, rocking it in my arms and trying to soothe its sock-baby cries.  Isla lit up and ran over with the other sock to match.  "Twins!" I shouted with glee, and that kid absolutely squealed with delight, more than I think I have ever experienced in my life.  She reminds me all the time that fun is meant to be fun, that this life is here to be lived and enjoyed, and that swimsuits double as perfectly suitable pyjamas.

5)  Go with your Gut 

My daughter's best friend's grandmother (stay with me here) lives three doors down, which means that her best friend is around a lot and there is often a gaggle of giggly girls running back and forth between our two houses.   One afternoon a few months ago, Isla came in to let me know that her friend wanted them to go play in a neighbour's front yard, the yard of the man who lives next door to her friend's grandmother.  The friend and her family know him very well but my girls and I do not.  Before I could say anything, though, Isla told me that she was not comfortable playing there.  The yard is visible from my window and so I would have been okay with them playing there (they cross over his lawn all the time) but I told her that she was right to listen to her instincts, and that she didn't, and doesn't ever, have to go anywhere that she is not comfortable going.  I was amazed by her, and continue to be amazed and grateful that she will listen to her gut and speak up.  I hope it continues.  And I hope I can do a little better at it myself.

6) Hair Shmair 

About a year or so ago, Isla decided, seemingly on a whim, that she wanted to cut off all of her hair.  I was taking her for what I thought would be just a trim, just an inch or two off the bottom of her past-the-shoulders hair.  But no, she informed me that she wanted it short.  Like short short.  Like pixie short.  I asked her if she was sure.  She said she was.  I asked her again, about twelve more times.  She was really, really sure.  And in the end, despite my misgivings, I understood that it was her hair and therefore it was her choice.  So the hair came off.  And damned if it didn't look incredible, and she absolutely adored it.  For awhile, anyway.  It wasn't long before she wanted to grow it back out.  But she didn't regret her decision.  Hair grows back.  She taught me that it's okay to take a leap and try something new.  And that sometimes, it's best not to listen to your mother. 

7)  Who Needs Tiffany's When You Have Michael's?

How can this kid get more fabulous?  Well, she also happens to be incredibly creative and resourceful.  When she turned 7, I told Isla that she could get her ears pierced if she wished, but she has decided that for the time being, the pain is not worth the gain.  Does that stop her from accessorizing?  No way.  One day I looked over and she had gemstones on her ears, or at least it appeared that way.  Upon closer inspection, I discovered that they were faux rhinestone stickers that she had found in the craft supplies.  Brilliant. You can have what you want; sometimes, you just have to use your imagination to find another way.

We had a little talk about rule #2: "Do not touch unless your told to". She was concerned about everyone's safety, but conceded that maybe members could make some decisions for themselves. She chose to delete that rule.

8)  Be the Change

As you might expect, my daughter is a very well-liked kid who gets along with most everyone.  There have, however, already been times in her short 8 years here that she has been treated unfairly and left out of the group.  Last year, a group of girls who had been her very closest friends suddenly turned on her, and wouldn't let her be a part of their recess Fairy Club.  The problem, as I understood it, was that Isla didn't believe in fairies, and they wouldn't let her play unless she said she did.

Despite the fact that she dearly wanted to play with her friends, LOVED to play fairies and make up stories and scenarios, she stood her ground: she wouldn't say something she didn't believe.  And so, they continued to leave her out.

She cried, and I did my best to explain something that is pretty inexplicable.  She cried some more.  And then she got angry.  And then she got calm.  And then one day she come home and told me that she had started her own club, a Nature Club, and she had already recruited a few kids to join her.  I think my jaw may have actually dropped.  Together, we researched games and activities for her club, and she came up with a list of rules.  She told me, though, that one of the rules was unwritten: everyone was allowed to join.

Nature Club caught on for a few weeks, but then her friends missed her and invited her back to play.  She was pleased as punch, but since then she has insisted that they always include anyone else who wishes to join them.

I feel immensely proud of this young woman every day, and when I feel like I don't know where I'm going, I look to her.  It's a funny thing, this parenthood.  Here I thought I was supposed to be a role model for her, and it's the other way around. 

I expect that she has more to teach me.  You can bet that I have my notepad ready.