Jump for Joy: Write a "Ta Da!" List

You're not the boss of me.

You might think that, as a writer, I'd be naturally inclined toward participating in a daily journalling practice and that, without effort, I'd be able to stick to a regular routine, greeting any opportunity to write with abundant enthusiasm!  The truth is that I'm a haphazard, inconsistent journaller, at best.  I'll get in a good groove of writing every night for weeks on end and then suddenly I'll fall off the cliff of responsibilities, descending into the abyss of tasks, emerging many, many weeks later with only a foggy memory of this little book here.  So although I've kept diaries and journals for most of my life, it is not uncommon for me to start entries with "The last three months of my life have been busy.  To recap..."

I've been trying, TRYING, to get back into the habit because I have found that when I stick to it, the practice of taking a few minutes every evening to write about what's going on (AND ALL THE FEELINGS) has an immensely positive impact on my life.  My journal becomes a place to let things out - the good, the bad and the ugly - that I otherwise tend to keep in, and the practice of writing about how I feel about things, and the choices I'm considering making in my life along with their pros and cons, helps me to process what's going on inside my often far-too-busy brain.  When I write in my journal before bed, I sleep better, and wake up with a healthier, more positive outlook on my life and any challenges I'm facing.

When I manage to write in my journal, I make it a point to end my entries with a list of three things I'm grateful for that day.  This is not a revolutionary idea, by any means, and it is backed by scientific research that strongly supports "an association between gratitude and an individual’s well-being."  In my experience, I've found that this exercise alone allows me to gain some perspective and set aside my troubles, at least for the moment.

Recently, though, I've added another exercise to my journalling routine, an exercise that I've come to think of as writing my "Ta Da!" List.  Following my list of the three things I'm grateful for, I write a list of three things I did well that day (Get it?  "I did this!  Ta Da!"  Corny? Yes.  Clever?  If you say so).  My far-too-busy brain is exceptional at drafting long To Do lists but not so great at celebrating the things I actually do and this exercise helps me to do just that.  These accomplishments don't have to be of the climbed-Kilimanjaro variety.  They can be simple, simple things and in fact, I have found that acknowledging the seemingly simplest of my day's accomplishments is the fastest route to a sense of satisfaction and success.

Some examples from my journal of the things I did well: 

• "I washed my face"

• "Laughed and had fun with the girls"

• "Ate healthy things"

• "Stayed calm with my daughter when she was trying my patience"

• "Didn't beat myself up"

• "Went to the park even though I was tired"

• "(Mostly) had a positive attitude!" TA DA! You're welcome, family!

Several years ago, I came across what I consider to be one of my favourite things on the Internet.  In a forum about "things you like to tell or remind yourself about when you have 'woe is me' moments to steer yourself out of self-pity/moments of weakness and back into awesomeness", contributor Zozo offers this gem:

"I start going down a list of my accomplishments. If my mood is particularly crappy, I'll do a lot of "oh, well, that doesn't really count," but I can eventually wear myself down by sheer volume, even if it means counting "remembered to buy cat food" and "emptied the dishwasher" as accomplishments. 'Cause you know what? I emptied the fuck out of that dishwasher."

I heart this 4eva.

This is what the "Ta Da!" List is all about.  It's about emphatically celebrating your successes, no matter how insignificant they may seem, because the thing is they are NOT insignificant.  These successes are important because, on the whole, our days are not made up of Kilimanjaro moments.  They are made up of washing our face, and staying calm with trying toddlers, and emptying the dishwasher moments.

So go ahead and give yourself the credit you're due, and consider making it a daily practice to do so, whether in writing or not.  

What have you accomplished today? 

You gave the dog his medication.  TA DA!

You didn't eat the entire bag of chips.  TA DA!

You emptied the fuck out of the dishwasher. 

TA fucking DA! 

Jump for Joy is a series on JTTG about small, simple ways to boost the joy in your life.  

Leap Year

I'm pretty straight-laced.  A rule follower.  A good girl.  If you were to ask around about me, I imagine that you would hear that I'm pretty quiet and by the book and I tend to stay in line.  

I generally do what is expected of me.  Except for when I don't.   

I'm pretty content being the good girl most of the time, but I have a strong-willed, rebellious side that likes to shake things up.  I've always, even at my most straight-laced, had the capacity to say Yes to things that scare me, to listen to my gut and go against the grain, if need be, to take leaps of faith.  It's one of the things I like best about myself. 

This is the side of me that ran for student council in grade 9, which required that I stand up in front of the entire grade 9 class and risk social suicide, in the armour of my Northern Reflections t-shirt, promises of commitment and change on my Bonne Bell-glossed lips.  I lost.  I was mildly annoyed to have received fewer votes than the girl whose speech amounted to "Hey, what's up, guys?" but psssshh.  Whatever.  I had stood up there.  Don't you know you're supposed to keep your head down?

This is the side of me that takes chances on connections and relationships that, from the outside looking in, seem absolutely crazy-town.  It's the side of me that got married when I was 20.  Don't you know that you're supposed to finish school and build your career and date for years before you get married? Don't you know you're supposed to follow the script?

This is the side of me that doesn't know how to make it to point B but gets in the car and drives anyway and assumes I'll be able to figure it out along the way.   This is the side of me that trusts I am capable and that, if nothing else, I'll at least learn something in the process.  

Don't you know you might get lost?  Don't you know you might end up right back where you started?  

This is the side of me that, a year ago, chose to leave a job, with a pension and benefits and at least a semblance of security, to be an unemployed single mother.  At least, that's one way of looking at it.  Another version of that story is that a year ago, I chose to leave a job that took away more than it gave to focus on what matters most to me.   

It was one of the best decisions of my life. 

I left my job to focus on three things: my daughters, my writing and my health.   

I was home with my kids last summer.  Some of the time anyway.  The rest of the time, we were off having adventures.  Exploring museums, building sandcastles, wandering the farmers market, and testing out the city's playgrounds, before returning back home to living room sleepovers and library book readathons and quiet cuddles in the big bed.  I have, for this past year, met my kids off the school bus every day at 4:00, greeted most often by "I'm hungry" rather than "Hi Mama", mind you, but they're there and I'm there with them.  This year of focused family time has immeasurably strengthened the bond that I share with my girls and I wouldn't take back a second of it.

I'm a writer.  I can say that now with confidence.  A year ago, I would have said that I wanted to be a writer, and I'd downplay my efforts.  Over the course of this past year, I completed my first picture book manuscript and sent it off to publishers, and as soon as it was in the mail, I got started on the next.  I'm currently working on two manuscripts and I have generated dozens of other ideas that are waiting in the wings.  Since leaving my job, I've written over 20 essays for this website, writing that I'm very proud of.  And my writing has become better, my instincts more sharply refined.  I used to be afraid to write, hesitant to use up an idea in case another one wasn't forthcoming, and unwilling to cut or change anything too much lest I lose my way.  Now, I slash and banish my precious words like a heartless dictator, and I use the good china - pulling every idea out of the cupboard - knowing, trusting, that the cupboard will never be bare.  

I wrote last year about my rheumatoid arthritis, about wanting to use my able body while I have it, in case the day when I no longer can comes sooner than expected.  In this past year, I've only had one major flare-up (and that was because I had foolishly taken my medication two days late).  This is a vast improvement from the previous year.  Turns out, unemployment has some benefits of its own.  And I have put my healthy body to use playing with the kids and hiking and traveling to amazing places.  I'm not, as yet, as strong and toned and healthy as I would like to be but I am getting there. 

The truth though is that when I was talking about wanting to take time off to care for my health, I wasn't really referring to a desire to do more aerobics classes and squats.  The truth is that a year ago, I knew that if I didn't take some time off and get some help, I would likely kill myself in the next month or two.

That's a hard thing to read and, believe me, a hard thing to write.  But that's the truth.  When I wrote about "a feeling that whispered quietly at first but recently it has been singing in every cell in my body", I was writing about the growing feeling that I was edging closer to the brink, and that my decision was really one between life and death.  (The inevitable question comes: "Why didn't you take a medical leave?"  Let's just say that as open as I am about my depression, the stigma against mental illness is powerful and that time, it won.)

Since leaving my job, I've been asked many times if I have any regrets.  Not a single one.  Not for a moment.  Because I'm here where I maybe wouldn't have been.  And, while I still have a long way to go and my depression still dogs me - as I'm sure it will the rest of my life - I'm a stronger, happier person than I have ever been.

Despite the many uncertainties I still face, I've never regretted my decision to leave my job.  I've never regretted any of my leaps of faith.  Because with each leap, I was following my intuition and my heart, and each leap brought me closer to my true self and the life I want. Going with your gut and taking a leap:  it's setting out without a map but with the world before you, trusting that your inner compass will guide you in the right direction.   

Don't you know you might get lost?  Don't you know you might end up right back where you started? 

Yes, I know that.  So what?

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.

Next Steps

Finding a few moments of beauty and joy in a parking lot, waiting for a mechanic to repair my car and hand me a hefty bill. Which says it all, really.

As many of you know, I left my job four months ago in order to recharge, spend more time with my daughters, and figure out a new way forward.  The decision was not an easy or hasty one - it took me a good year to get my ducks in a row and get up the gumption to take the leap - but it was absolutely the right one.  The past three years have been the most challenging of my life, and I knew that if I didn't stop and prioritize my health, my family and myself, there would be dire consequences for all three.

When I left my job, my thinking was this: I'd take two months (May and June), while my kids were still in school, to rest and think and have some time to myself, and then spend the following two months (July and August) enjoying quality time with my girls.  And then...well, I wasn't sure what would come next.

Those four months played out more or less as planned.  While the spring was not as productive as I had initially imagined it would be, at least in terms of coming to any grand epiphanies about my life and putting new plans into action, it served as a much-needed restart.  Around that time, I was speaking to one of my best friends about my frustration that I was not further along in figuring out my life.  She responded by reminding me that a machine, when it is restarted, needs some time to fully shut down before it can start back up again, and she urged me to be patient with myself.  I decided, then, to ignore the grand to-do list I had written and just let go.  I wrote without quota.  I read voraciously.  I worked out and nourished my body.  I haunted coffee shops and caught up with friends.  I relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in years.

By the time the kids were out of school, I was ready to be there for them in a way I hadn't been able to be for a long time.  While not every moment was picture perfect by any stretch, my time with my kids this summer was as wonderful as I had hoped it would be.  We went to the beach and explored the city, made living room nests and watched movies, took countless trips to the library and belted out Taylor Swift tunes on car rides, slurped slushies and sidewalk-chalked the driveway.  But most importantly, I held them in my arms and kissed their freckles, eavesdropped on their early morning sister conversations before they climbed into my bed with their poking elbows and soft cheeks and giggles and complaints, listened for "just a few more minutes" and smoothed the curls out of their sleepy eyes as they shared with me their amazing 5-year-old and 7-year-old thoughts and dreams.  For the first time in a long time, I felt I had a few more minutes to give, although I was really the one who received.

The one big adventure my daughters asked for this summer (aside from taking the city bus, which was also a hit) was to go to Canada's Wonderland.  And so, on one of the hottest days of the summer and a Sunday no less, we ventured there.  And had The Best Day.  It was only later that I realized that I hadn't even flinched at the idea of taking the girls there all by myself and dealing with the crowds and the heat and the line-ups and tired little legs, a situation which, in the past, would have been far too daunting for me to even contemplate.  It hadn't occurred to me not to do it and it hadn't occurred to me to be nervous that I couldn't handle it.  I was relaxed and expected to have fun, and so we did.  This realization highlighted for me what this time has given me: it has allowed me the chance to restore my faith in myself and my ability to not only handle any challenge that comes at me but to create a happy life and joyful moments despite those challenges, whether they be the oppressive heat or obnoxious crowds or negativity or what others think or heartbreaks or disappointments.  It has allowed me to move a few steps closer to becoming the parent, and the person, I want to be.

But now, it is September, and the kids are back at school.  So now what?  A part of me has been dreading September and the questions that were waiting for me here, the main one being how I can support my family and build the life I want through a career that allows me to use my talents and do something of value.  I've spent the last few months and several sleepless nights wrestling with these questions, trying ideas on for size, researching options and hitting roadblocks, tuning into my intuition and turning away from anything my gut tells me is the wrong path for me.  I still wish to pursue a writing career; in addition to my writing here, I have finished the first draft of my children's book and it will (WILL!) be sent out to publishers by the end of this month.  And then, I'll be starting on the next, and my writing will continue to be a priority.  I have big plans for this website, and several book ideas queued up anxiously awaiting my attention.  But, as much as I would love to ignore this fact and live my creative life, there are bills to pay.  Publication is, in large part, out of my control and frankly, no one ever went into writing for the money.  Luckily, I have more to give than words alone and I'm making some progress toward fine-tuning my understanding of what those skills and talents are and figuring out a (compensated) place to put them to use.

To that end, this fall will be about testing my hypotheses and beginning to put toes in the water to give some ideas a trial run, amongst other relevant metaphors.  In addition to continuing with my writing and keeping my kids and my health front and center, I will be taking a few courses to further my education and I'm pursuing some volunteer opportunities that will help me to reconnect with my community and gain some experience in fields that I think would allow me to do important work I care about.  I'm also working with an employment counsellor and applying to positions that I think might be a good fit, both for what I'm looking for and what I can offer.  And I'm staying patient, and continuing to have faith in myself.  I have the luxury of having more time to sort things out, but I'm not taking that luxury for granted and I'm aware of the possibility that my best-laid plans may not work out as hoped.  I'm okay with that.  I think that optimism and realism can live hand in hand.

So we'll see.  That's my answer right now to all inquiries about what I'm going to do now.  We'll see.  I'm as curious as anyone.  I have these next steps in place but I have no idea where the staircase leads.  Do any of us?  What I do know is that I couldn't have done all of this and made it this far without the tremendous love and friendship around me, and I want to take this moment to thank you for continuing to read my words here and for offering me your own words of support and advice. 

I don't know what the future holds.  I don't know what I'll be doing and what my life will be like another four months from now.  But I'm more excited about that than scared because I know I can make molehills out of any mountains I may come across on my path, and I know these steps are just a small part of the journey.