A Good Growl Says It All

A Good Growl Says It All

  Mae is now four, but her ability to growl started a year before at the age of three. When Mae didn’t feel in the mood for conversation rather than ignore you, turn away or simply look at her feet she took to responding with a sound that came from deep inside of her and vibrated from her throat, “Grrrrr!” Now I’m not big on coaxing and I don’t believe in bribing, so I was content to be at peace with the Growl. What is it we tend to say to the quirks of children? “They’ll grow out of it.” However, Mae has continued to grow and her growl has remained to grow with her. As I said, coaxing and bribing I don’t do. Instead I felt there was merit in the Growl so when Mae answered my questions with a “Grrrrr” I replied with a “Grrrr.” Back and forth we go, rather like duelling banjos. No strings to strum, just vocal cords        to orchestrate. We’d compete in loudness and the ability to create different levels of sounds from inside us. Back and forth, back and forth until one of us caves and collapses into giggles. Mae then abandons the growl and talks. We discuss what she’d like to amuse herself with now and go about our time together. Mae’s Growl has advanced to somewhat of a dialogue. It’s not just to express that she isn’t interested in conversing. It’s also to vent when she’s not happy, to release frustration, to get your attention, to announce intense dissatisfaction. I too have to admit I’ve taken the...
Kick The Can and Not The Cat

Kick The Can and Not The Cat

Kicking the Cat is an idiom that dates back to the 19th century. The man is humiliated by his boss. He comes home and yells at his wife. His wife slaps their child and the child kicks the household cat. People have grown, for the most part, to know that to kick a cat is considered cruel and yet being cruel to each other is still in fashion despite all our anti bullying campaigns. Cats have fared far better than humans. People hurt each other and then they justify it. I have a migrane. I’m overtired. I forgot to each lunch. I have a condition. My boss is a prick. It’s been a bad day. These hurting, angry souls lash out at who ever happens to be in their sights, they aim and fire with the sole intention of having someone feel worse than they feel. I worked for a husband and wife who argued freely and often. Mr. Mender usually held the upper hand, which left Mrs. Mender looking for a cat. Often she was so desperate she would stand looking into the office waiting to hear or see something she could strike out at. Once she found what she needed, in she’d come with guns blazing. She’d attack. On days when she was feeling extra less than, whatever object was close at hand would fly through the air in my direction. Now nothing she threw ever made contact. I was able to dodge out of the way, but I also felt either her aim was bad or she didn’t intend on a bull’s eye – she just...
Where Have I Been?

Where Have I Been?

“Sharon, did you change your email. Did you stop writing? Did you delete me from your mailing list? “No, No and No”. I’m here. Right here where I left off or perhaps I’m not. Perhaps I’m somewhere else, other than where I was. I hope during my lapse at writing, while I’ve been viewing life, living life and jotting down my observations, I’ve been becoming more of who I am. I consider myself to be open minded. I embrace new ideas. I entertain different perspectives. I try new things. I feel I say yes to Life more than I say no. And yet, I became aware of how small my world was. Observing my day to day reality I noticed that it was primarily one colour, culture and nationality. I wondered if I didn’t move out and into other worlds would I fall into the realm of feeling I knew other’s without even meeting them? Would I simply listen to the news, absorb headlines and adopt the opinions of others forming a truth that may not be in any way accurate? I decided to step out of my tiny circle and take a walk around in some different realities. My friend Tonya and I began a venture we coined “Eat, Pray, Love” after Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir. We began visiting different places of faith and culture and dining on the complimenting cuisine. It’s quite amazing when you shake another’s hand, engage in conversation to learn who another is, you can find yourself hearing the words in your brain, “I didn’t know. I thought it was…” over and over. It’s humbling...

Let It Be Different This Time

Monday July 4th – surgery for my second knee replacement. I’d been preparing myself. Everything was in order. Home cleaned, check. Groceries bought, check. All the lovely rental aides of walker, shower bench and toilet seat, check. Children to visit, ride home, check. Feeling calm and confident, secure and grounded. No check. Every time I asked myself to be in a good place and relax I felt myself spiral into fear and a tear would well up in my eye threatening to spill out and run down my cheek. Two years ago I had my right knee replaced. My memory of walking into the surgery room was not positive. Inside my head I heard, “You’re alone” and I started to cry. The spinal was painful and I immediately became anxious and felt I was being strangled, before it all went dark. Meditating, affirming, visualizing could not get me to a place where I felt calm. I immediately bounced into what had happened before and the fear and tears took over. I was scared. My right knee was still healing, even after two years. I hadn’t pushed it to strengthen the way that it needed due to my left knee being so weak. I was scared that I’d now have two legs that didn’t feel good. Even though I kept hearing, “This will all take you forward.” I wasn’t supporting my inner wisdom. I was instead fuelling my fear of going through this all again. Sunday, the day before, the day, my friend Tonya sends me a text, “I’m going to pop by this afternoon, to see you before the...

Owning It

It all begins with being single, which translates into, “You’re the One”. You’re the one who has to glue back together what breaks, change the filter on the furnace, unplug the clogged drain, pay the bills, manage the books and read all those boring, foreign sounding documents, that you don’t understand and don’t want to decipher, but know you must. At least someone must and as you are the one – you are the must that must do it. A month ago I received a few notices regarding changes in car insurance as of June 2016. Yuk!! But I need to handle it and I’m not sure what it all means, so I take all my notices and policy documents into my agent to go over it. Upon opening my file, I start to say, “Not sure why I received this one as it’s from… and now I look closer, I don’t think this letter is even for me.” My insurance agent takes the form and quickly points out that it’s not even addressed to me. Oh my, this is me to a tee. I zero in on the main information and because I had received similar documentation I didn’t look further. One of my classic“idiot” moments. Unfortunately being dyslexic can only take the credit for so much. This moment is not one of them. I get the clarity I need from my agent to make an informed decision concerning my car insurance and I’m on my way. The next day I’m off to pick up some groceries. A ten minute drive. However, in the land of Kitchener, Waterloo...

Time; How Do We Fill It?

Pelting down rain, fog, stubborn patches of ice. “Mom, are you sure you want to drive in this?” “Of course. I’ll pick you up early though, with this weather and rush hour, it could be miserable.” “Sounds good, see you soon.” “How did we manage this? We’re forty-five minutes early. You said you needed to stop at a grocery store after your appointment. Perhaps we have time.” I sit and think. Where is the closest store, that we can accomplish my son’s errand and still be back in time for his appointment. I do my best not to be lured into sabotage, so I need to be honest, that it isn’t possible. I tend to do this – squeeze one more thing in and then early turns into late. In all my thinking, I’ve lost five minutes. “Mom, lets not. We can sit and take the time for some quality conversation.” How does this happen. When did he get so wise? I take a breath and I surrender to his suggestion and let go of my brain that is over thinking possible routes to grocery stores and still convincing myself that it is a good idea, when my more evolved self is shaking its head, sending me messages of, “Sharon let go, sit and breathe and forget the damn errand”. Cody, knowing I’m still in my head, doesn’t need me to agree. He’s already launched into his quality chat. He tells me that he’s been painting again and how good it feels. He’s describing his projects and how immersed he’s become. The colours he’s using, the technique, the appearance...