by Heather Plett | Jun 20, 2005 | Uncategorized
Painting can be good therapy. At least when you don’t have a child at the bottom of the ladder saying “I want to help you paint. I want to help you paint. I NEED to help you PAINT!”
N&J&M are gone to school, my painting helper is gone to the sitter, and I am alone with my thoughts and a paintbrush. It’s getting a little hot out there, so I’m escaping to my basement for some coolin’ time.
Here are some of the thoughts my mind wandered to while I painted and gazed out over the rooftops of my neighbours…
1. In this world of changing fashions, why hasn’t tiny white paint specks on the face become a trend in cosmetic design?
2. Is the backyard neighbour leading as sad and pathetic a life as I THINK he is? From my vantage point on the ladder, I had a great view of his well-manicured yard that only HE enjoys. He’s got a nice deck with 4 chairs around the table, but in the 6 years we’ve lived here, I’ve only ever seen HIM sit at that table – enjoying his barbecued steak alone. It looks hopeful – that yard of his – like it was meant to be shared. But the only eyes that gaze upon those flowerbeds and ornamental trees are his. And occasionally mine. I suspect he looks at our messy yard with some loathing and I KNOW he’d like us to trim our overgrown trees so that they shed less leaves on his yard. Perhaps, though, he looks at the swing set with some mixture of jealousy. And perhaps, when he throws the stray balls and Frisbees back into our yard, he wishes he had a reason to keep them.
3. One other question about the backyard neighbour – did he have a family tragedy this past weekend? He left the garden hose strewn across his yard. Yikes! I’m afraid that only a tragedy could cause him to be so careless and MESSY!
4. Is it a sign of the onset of insanity if I talk to little green worms? I was concerned that it might be Maddie’s friend BooBoo and I didn’t want to be the cause of his untimely death, so I urged him to get out of the way of the killer paintbrush.
5. In what universe is it considered good family relations to pick a fight with the daughter of your new wife about the lack of Biblical basis for her new role as elder?
6. If a ladder falls in the backyard, and the only person there to witness it is lying unconscious on the ground, does it make a sound? (Don’t worry, it’s just a hypothetical. No ladders fell.)
7. Will the new neighbour next door leave the back yard as overgrown and unkempt as the last one? If not, I’ll miss it. Partly since I’m rather fond of the wild look and partly because it makes OUR yard look almost manicured. But I’m sure the other neighbours won’t miss it – especially the one who was complaining about the hornets’ nest forming under the unruly pile of compost in the corner.
8. Is unkempt a word? Is kempt?
9. Am I ANY closer to building some semblance of a team out of the ragtag group of people I’m supposed to be leading? Did ANY of them get any value out of our recent team retreat? Is it worth the bother? Do leopards change their spots?
10. Why is it that every time I climb the ladder I forget one of the things I was supposed to bring up with me?
11. If I paint the trim of the house dark green, does it mean I’ll have to paint the fence and the deck the same colour? If so, perhaps I should have thought of that BEFORE I went to all this trouble.
by Heather Plett | Jun 19, 2005 | Uncategorized
If I lock her in her room until she turns 4, will I get arrested? I promise I’ll slip her food under the door, and probably even let her come out for potty breaks. Ah, c’mon… PLEASE!
It seems Maddie has become possessed by the “three-year-old-there-must-be-at-least-ONE-boundary-I-haven’t-tested-yet” demon. The fun easy kid who once was has been replaced by this OTHER creature I hardly recognize and am not particularly fond of. At this moment, Marcel has left the house, primarily because she pushed every last button he had and he really didn’t want to be found guilty of child abuse. I’m next.
Whoever came up with “terrible twos” hadn’t yet lived through the “more-horrible-than-living-with-the-tasmanian-devil” threes.
You know that advertisement where the kid in the back seat is busy emptying the mother’s wallet and tossing all the items out the window? Yeah, well, not so funny when it happens to YOU! Fortunately nothing actually left the car, but she had torn apart everything in the two bags in the back seat of the car, and hung three things out the window before I managed to get things under control. Thank God for automatic windows that I can control from the driver’s seat.
Oh, and before the “hanging things out the window” incident, I was particularly impressed when she spit at me in Zellers.
Those of you who still have illusions that Maddie is a delightful, happy-go-lucky, charm-the-pants-off-ya child, THINK AGAIN!
Anyone want to babysit? Like, maybe for a YEAR?
by Heather Plett | Jun 16, 2005 | Uncategorized
My dearest Julie;
You turn 8 years old today. You’re getting so grown up and so smart! Today (and every day) I want you to know how much I love you and how proud I am of you. I’m so glad you’re my daughter. I’m so glad God made you and that he gave me the privilege of being your Mom. I’m a lucky, lucky woman.
Eight years ago, you entered our family. We were so excited to see you. You were beautiful right from the start. We were happy to see your red hair. I love red hair, and so did your Grandpa. He always wanted a red-headed granddaughter. I’m sure he’s watching you grow from heaven and he’s very proud of you, his Red Bowler.
You were a real treat as a baby – so easy to look after. You didn’t need too much – as long as you got fed and cared for, you didn’t demand too much more attention. Your big sister Nikki was quite curious about this new person Mommy and Daddy brought home. She wanted to play with you and cuddle you. (I know she doesn’t want to cuddle you much now, but she used to!)
We knew from an early age that you were special. You learned to talk at a really early age – earlier than most kids. When you weren’t even 3 years old (younger than Maddie is now), the day care teachers told me that, when you saw 2 kids arguing, you suggested that they should compromise. They were amazed that you’d use such big words even though you were still pretty small. You kept learning and kept amazing the grown-ups with how many words you knew.
This carried on when you started going to school. You hardly took any time to learn to read. It seemed like one day you didn’t know how to read, and then suddenly the next day you did. Before long, you were reading chapter books. And now, 2 days before your 8th birthday, you finished the 4th Harry Potter book. Wow! Not too many kids read that much before they’re eight! I hope you keep it up because a love for books is a really valuable thing to have. It opens up the world for you – shows you all kinds of interesting things and teaches you to think.
You learned other things quickly too. Before you even started kindergarten, you wanted to know how many halves were in a certain number. “Mom,” you’d say, “how many halves are there in eight?” I’d tell you to guess, and you were usually right. That was one of your favourite games for awhile.
You’ve always been my most cuddly kid. I can usually count on you to crawl up into my lap and sit with me. You give great hugs. One of my favourite parts of the day is when I get off the bus after work and you come running down the sidewalk and throw your arms around me. It makes me feel special.
I love your sense of humour. You like making people laugh. When I was in the hospital with Matthew, you came into my room and hopped like a bunny because you wanted to see me smile. You still do things to try to make me smile. I love to see the twinkle in your eye because it usually means you’re playing tricks on me or thinking of things that will make me laugh.
I love to see determination in your face. When you make up your mind to do something, you usually figure out a way to do it, even when other people don’t think you’ll be able to. When you decide to bake, you want to do it YOUR way. When you want to learn to ride your bike, you want to figure it out YOUR way. Sometimes I argue with you, because I’m a lot like you and I like to do it MY way, but most of the time, when I just let you figure it out for yourself, you find a way. I was so proud of you when you learned to ride a bike – you made up your mind to do it, and you tried and tried until it worked. Now I love to go for bike rides with you. We have great conversations, and you’re not afraid to try new things.
You are a very compassionate girl. Often, when you have a treat that Maddie doesn’t have, I don’t even need to ask you to share because you think of it yourself. You like to make other people happy, and often that means sharing what you have with them. You even buy other people Slurpees sometimes because you don’t want to be the only one enjoying a treat.
I was so proud of you at your piano recital last night. You’ve been learning piano as quickly as you learn so many other things in your life. Keep it up, and soon you’ll get to learn to play drums, just like you want to. I’m glad you want to be unique and learn a different instrument. I know you’ll do well.
You’re a fun, interesting, smart, kind, beautiful girl. You make my life better. You bring something very special to our family. God made you unique – different from anyone else. He gave you special gifts and talents and you’ll find great ways of using them. I know you will always make people smile, you will show kindness to a lot of people, and you’ll continue to love learning just like you do now.
Thank you for being my beautiful daughter. I love you. Happy Birthday!
Love Mom.
by Heather Plett | Jun 15, 2005 | Uncategorized
She just needed to find Middle C.
We arrived early at the piano recital. Her first piano recital. Nervous energy straightened her spine and made her twist the ring on her finger. “Mom,” she whispered, “what if I can’t find Middle C?”
Only a few people had arrived so far, so we walked to the front of the room where the imposing grand piano stood. “Which one do you think it is?” I asked. She pointed. “Can your remember where it is?” I asked. “Yes – it’s just below the letter F in the name.”
Her turn didn’t come until far down in the program, but when it came, she walked to the front, sat down, and played flawlessly. She found Middle C. She grinned a shy half-grin of pride as she walked back to her seat.
She’s not alone, I thought. We’re all looking for Middle C. We all need to know where our starting point is – our point of reference. Once we figure that out, we can move forward with confidence. Once we know where our security is – our centre – we’ve got it made.
