ghosts in the basement

I was waist deep into rubbermaid chaos in the (soon to be spectacularly tidy) storage room tonight when I stumbles upon 2 boxes of my old things that I had tucked away in the corner.

There was my old Brownie uniform, baby shoes, plaques and awards.....and all of my old journals.

I can very clearly remember the first time I ever wrote in one of those hard backed books. I don't think they even sell them anymore but each one was the same; different coloured covers, small, full of just the right number of lined pages. I would tremble with excitement when starting a new one, starry-eyed thinking of what events and magics the pages would eventually contain (it always ended up being poorly spelled, over dramatised dribble...but I was a dreamer).

I remember the rustle of the fall leaves and the smell of the yard fire that my Dad was tending nearby. It was one of those crisp days, falling into early dark, where the air seems to fill your lungs with energy and imagination. I was thirteen years old and had just read Emily of New Moon by L.M. Montgomery. Inspired by her story I decided to try my hand at keeping a journal. I fell in love with it that night. With wrestling thoughts and emotions into words and recording them. With trying to grasp that thing that always seems to be just out of reach, like a strand of music that is just to far away to be heard.

My Book of Thoughts, as I called each one, was the only ear that every heard many of my childhood and adolescent thoughts. In a home that was filled with explosive emotion and drama, where feeling were often used as weapons, it was my safe place to express all the things that I had to keep inside myself the rest of the time. Life's dramas and gossip I kept in the real world, my books were places for thoughts, faith and really, really bad poetry (really bad).

There are 13 books in that box, spanning 12 years of my life. I stopped keeping a journal shortly after Caley was born. Just one of the pieces of myself that was lost when I morphed into the creature called "Mom".

I tried to read some of them tonight, opening to random places and years. A moment waiting for my parents to come back from Russia, telling Eli I couldn't marry him, thanking God for finding Eli, hiking trips and mountains climbed, telling Brad I loved him, the deep loneliness of living in Edmonton, the day my Nana died, sneaking back into the room after everyone had left and kissing her goodbye....so many memories.

I am surprised by how raw I am feeling now. There is so much pain, hope, joy, despair and grief on those pages. I had to put the lid back on the box.





The second box contained the few things of my paternal grandmothers that I was able to salvage after the crawlspace in our last house flooded. A few letters of encouragement she had written me (why, oh why didn't I write her more often?), her favorite picture of me hanging from a tree, cards and crafts she lovingly saved despite their very hideousness. The crafts are wrapped in old linen from her house. I honestly don't remember what she ever used the little scraps of fabric for. Wonderful little scraps of white, they still, after all this time, moves and floods, they still smell like her. They smell like the most wonderful, eccentric, strong woman in the world. I breathed it in deep, and it smelled like love.

I can finally cross off "kiss a boy"

Making New Years Resolutions always reminds me of when I was 16, spending New Years Eve with my best friend Serina. Writing with purple jell pens all our impossible dreams for the coming year. Giggling over the ones like "kiss a boy" or "get cutie to notice me".

For the past couple of years I haven't made any resolutions. Mostly because once I get thinking of things that I would like to change about myself it becomes impossible to stop. And really, who wants to start the New Year all depressed and inadequate feeling?

This year though, I'm going to pick up my jell pens again, well, keyboard anyways. Lately I've been feeling as though I've gone a bit off track in some areas of life. Like I'm driving on the gravel shoulder of the road, instead of the middle of the lane. It's hard to keep from veering off course when you're not on the pavement.

So here goes, ahem:

1. Limit computer time to 1 hour per day.
There was a time when I only opened my laptop every few days and then was done in 20 minutes. Now I plop my tired behind down as soon as the kids go to bed and look up to find it's midnight and nothing has been accomplished.

2. Go to bed earlier. By 11pm at least.
Not a problem if I stay off the computer at night. Hopefully this will equate to getting up earlier too but I am unwilling to go to the level of commitment of resolving to drag my ass out of bed before 8am.

3. Loose the 10 pounds I've gained since October.
I'm not too worked up about this but it sure would be nice for my clothes to all fit again. I'm getting a tad tired of yoga pants everyday.

4. Seriously purge the house.
I hate clutter in the house and nothing lingers long if it's not being used. But I need to go through all of the storage bins, decided what kid's stuff we are keeping and get rid of the rest!

5. Finish all the small home reno projects I've started.
'nuff said.

6. Get the kids outside more.
With the months of endless rain I've been taking the easy road and staying inside with them but they are outside kids! They both love to be outside and I'm feeling guilty about trying to convince them that they don't want to go out and then going out myself as soon as Matthew is napping.

7. No picking of biting!
Embarrassing as it is to admit, I have a bad habit of picking my face and biting my nails. I've gotten a bit better about the nails...but it needs to stop. Sigh...I think this has been on every resolution list I've ever written.

8. Start scrapbooking again.

9. Talk more about faith issues with Caley.
Recent events have revealed to me that our "show by example" model is not having the desired results.

10. Live in the moment.
Our lives are just compilations of all the little moments. I haven't been making the most of the moments and I've been feeling and see the result; a general blah-ness about life.

Information overload?

Look what came in the mail this week. This binder contains our homestudy paperwork and education component. It is one thick binder.




Now we are just waiting to hear from the social worker to set a date for our first home study visit. Probably in the New Year now that we are so close to the holidays.

and we are away...

I got confirmation on Friday that our application to adopt had been recieved.

We're off.

I'm going to be ripped

Back in the day (ahem, let's not talk about how far back okay?), before kids, working crazy hours and life got in the way, I used to really enjoy weight training. I loved the challenge, the mental effort involved and seeing myself getting stronger each week. 45 minutes in the gym, 5 days a week will do that. One of the first things I learned was what was actually occurring in the muscles. How the fibers were forming small tears as I worked, which when healed, made the muscle bigger and stronger.

The heart is a muscle too. You see, a while back God began breaking my heart. Just a bit at a time, as he opened my eyes and allowed me to begin to see through his. Sometimes it's a photo, a statistic or a verse that does me in.

As I sat broken hearted last night, I asked him why.

"Why? Why are you doing this, LORD? What good does this pain serve anyone?"

And then I remembered how muscle is built, one small break at a time.

Like the Grinch with his Grinch feet deep in the snow, who stood puzzling and puzzling. How could it be so, God's growing hearts in sizes.

Apparently I'm a needless worrier

Well, that was ridiculously easy. Get references done-check.

Awkward is my middle name

All sorts of social interactions make me nervous. I know without a doubt that when social graces were being handed out, I was either busy tripping over my shoelaces or standing the corner engrossed in a mental debate over the best way to ask someone if I could borrow their pencil. I love people. All sorts of people. I find the diversity of experience and personality fascinating. I just don't really know how to interact with anyone over the age of 10. The more I try to play it cool the worse it gets.
"Eye-contact. Make eye-contact. Wait! How much is too much? Is this good eye-contact, or I'm a creepy stare into your eyes person eye-contact. Nod, nod, I agree. Oh crap, I think I must look like a stupid bobble-head doll." etcerta, etcetra.
Or the best "Oh crap, did that just come out of my mouth?" moments.

Over the years, I've learned to laugh at myself for my social awkwardness and at least partially accept that I will never ever, on this planet, be the life of the party (or meeting, or lunchtime or play date or..)

I've also learned to accept that I tend to get off topic easily. Like now. The point is that we need 5 references for our adoption application. Two family and 3 non-family. 5 people or couples who will be willing to state that we are neither nut-jobs or child abusers. This sounds easy right? Cue the social awkwardness, please. The family choices were easy. Since my mom is a bit of nut-job, although a very lovely one, and we see my other siblings 2-3 times a year tops, my side of the family was out. Thankfully, Brad's parents and sister readily agreed to vouch for our child-rearing deservedness.
Now for the non-family references it was pretty easy to decide who would be the best the use: our pastor and his wife, our closest couple friends (also only couple friends who are still married), and my business partner. Easy....except I have yet to ask a single one. It's kinda the only thing holding us up right now. I mean, I think we're great(ish) parents, but I think some small part of me is worried that they won't. How awkward would that be?
"Actually, I don't think you should adopt because you're screwing up enough kids already." Huh, yeah, that would suck.
And then, is there a social convention for this sort of thing? Can I ask my friend through Facebook? Because this time of year, with 5 plague infested kids between us, I might not see her for months. The hamster on the wheel in my brain goes round, and round, and round and lands on "put on your big girl panties and do it already." Which is what I'll just have to do, bobble-headed, staring eyed and all.