The Party

Five little girls grip the side of the crib with fierce glee. Their faces shine with naughty delight. This really is five little monkeys jumping on the bed. I grab the camera and get a few blurred shots. I'm trying to capture something, maybe proof that we are having a good time. There's no doubt about it. I'm the last to be convinced. I have been worried about this birthday party for weeks. Who should we invite? How many? Too many will overwhelm her and too few is too vulnerable to no-shows. I don't like relying on plan A. I need B,C and sometimes D. What will we do? Free for all or structured entertainment? Will anyone come? Does she have any friends? Will she have a good time? Will I? Who is this about?

This is the first birthday party for her that is somewhat directed by what she wants. Her younger birthdays were essentially celebrations with our adult friends and their kids; sharing milestones and toasting the survival of each early year. This year is different. Thankfully we are beyond survival. Now, these are her choices, her playmates from pre-school, daycare and the playground. I will barely know the parents and they won't know each other at all. They will see the best version of our mess. They will know we are sort of weirdos too with art and odd furniture and music and … why do I want to be so normal now when I have never cared before? Who is this about?

I sit in cake-making exhaustion the morning of the party, trying to hear God. Sometimes I can. I tried to quiet my mind and to escape the drift that creeps into the main stage so quickly. As my worries parade on through, I slowly notice an image of Lego treasure. I see gold plastic treasure chests and coins superimposed on the other thoughts. What the….? there is a moment of confusion and then I recognize the gentle teasing humour of a message from God. I'm chasing the wrong gold, fools gold, toy gold, fun, even useful, but ultimately the wrong focus. I suddenly know, deeply know, that only a few things matter right now and my current worries about the state of the house and trying to pass for normal, whatever that means, don't rank at all.

Now I stand watching my dear girl with her pals, having the best time. I see that she is not like them but she is also not that different. They all play together and all a little apart from each other. They wander around and find things they are interested in. My planned craft activity captures some interest for a time and then they drift off distracted by the pink doll palace that has shown up for birthday week. The kids crowd around the cupcake mountain when the time comes and my girl 'A' is front and centre. She knows this is her moment. She can't muster up enough wind to blow out the candles but she gets help from her brother and her friends. Yes, friends. The ensuing cake frenzy is as varied as the little party people. One licks off all the pink icing and leaves the cake before asking for more. Another eats around and around until reaching one last bite. My 'A' face plants right into the cake and comes up for air momentarily before diving again. I talk to parents and I like them all. The tenure track professor likes the tunes we are playing in the background. Parents tell us tales of their kids' accounts of 'A'. Tales of 'A' rescuing one from a fall. Tales of 'A' bossing another one around. She is a force to be reckoned with and she's making her way somehow.

I find that all that I fear, besides not having loads of food, is what everyone fears. Isolation. I am beating it back for my daughter and for myself. As it turns out, she is the least likely person to need help with that. Really, I should just get out of her way.

And so we celebrate and I do my best to let the worry rest. There will be more parties and kindergarten is looming but right now we celebrate 5 years of the life altering presence of Miss A.

Well, what did I expect?

Really, what was I expecting? When A was born my expectations were shattered and replaced by some terrifying images. Gradually, those images have also been shattered and replaced by some great stuff.

Did I think she would light up our lives the way she does?

Did I think she would make the 'Homer' noise when presented with tasty food?

Did I think she would be able say a few words so soon?

Did I think I'd be her handler at a professional photo shoot?

No, no, no and no but here we are having a grand time mugging for the camera and showing off the fine outfits designed by my friend L over at Green Bean Baby. One of the many wonderful things about my friend is that she didn't think twice about including not one but two models who happen to have an extra chromosome each. She simply chose a group of cute kids to show off her great stuff. I guess including is the key word here. Here they are sporting the new hoodie. Looks great on boys and girls alike. If you want to see A on the website, navigate to products and then bedding.

Super model

A turned 1 last Saturday. We had a crazy big bash and when I get time (ha!) I'll post some video. In the meantime, A has been scouted for her first modeling job. My friend L, is the mastermind behind Green Bean Baby. Her stuff is all organic cotton and she designs it all. Little A is her Little Bean of the month. Here is her bio in the latest newsletter.

LITTLE BEAN OF THE MONTH
A, 1 year old A is a magic little sweet pea who loves to play peek- a- boo and steal mama's glasses. She loves books both for looking at and for gnawing on. A spends time watching her big brother everyday, (taking notes for future mischief making!) She hopes to be able to keep up soon but it's a lot of work. For now she is content to mug at the camera with a sparkle in her eyes.

Big Bird in a Small Cage

Sometimes a piece of music becomes the soundtrack for a period in your life. This year, on Mother's Day the boys gave me Patrick Watson's latest album (yes he still makes albums). It's called 'Wooden Arms'. The whole thing is amazing. I don't know why this guy isn't mega famous.

We rarely get out as a couple but last week, T looked at his fancy pants iPhone and it told him that PW was coming to town so he bought us some tickets just like that. After scrambling for childcare (thanks buddy M!) we made it and I have to say it was the best show I've ever seen. I know I haven't got much memory left and it's been a long time since I went out to shows but really, it was simply amazing. It was like watching someone shining in their complete gift and sharing it so it spilled everywhere and made everyone else shine too.

The standout track for us is called 'Big Bird in a Small Cage'. It's A's song because that's what she is.

"If you open up your ears and heart, you put a big bird in a small cage and he'll sing you a song..."

Eva

Eva Maria Hermann died last Monday. She was a great friend. I met her about 13 years ago when we lived downtown and we both regularly attended a United Church. I heard her speaking one day and her accent sounded Hungarian so I asked her about it. Sure enough, she told me she was a refugee from Hungary but her real escape was from Toronto. She was the only woman I know who lied about her age by increasing it. When we met she said she was 85 which would put her about 98 when she died but I suspect she was about 10 years younger than that. Her sharp wit and resistance to being visited by church do-gooders sparked a long friendship. For quite a few years, she hosted a sort of home church book club where we read and discussed spiritual matters and enjoyed her excellent soup. Her long life was full of pain and disappointment but also amazing travel and joyful friendships. She did not have any family. Her Dad died when she was a baby. Her brother died in the old country. Her Mom followed her here but passed away over 20 years ago. She and her estranged late husband did not have any children. She lived alone in a small apartment in the west end. She swam regularly, volunteered with the senior's counseling society, attended academic lectures and traveled frequently. She was also involved with the Thomas Merton Society. She was about my grandmothers' age but I think our relationship was more like sisters. Once T and I became parents and moved east to our current location, our contact was less frequent but still very regular.

This year unfortunately I hardly saw her at all. Luckily, I went to visit her and brought t last Sunday, one week ago. She was feeling quite down. This time of year is always hard for her. She was also upset because her building management was raising maintenance fees indiscriminately and she and the other residents were feeling like they were being pushed out. Perhaps the stress was too much. Little t and I were the last to see her alive. When we left she was smiling with her beautiful kind eyes.

Eva credited me with diagnosing her as dyslexic. She confused letters and mixed up right and left all the time. The day after she died, I was stumbling through a yoga class mixing up my left and right which I don't generally do. I think God let her get a little message through. She's ok up there. May she soar into eternal grace.