There are a jumble of words kicking around my brain at the moment, yet I can’t seem to grasp the ones I need. It’s been a rough couple days to say the least, so please excuse the disjointed thought process that may follow.

When it comes to difficult situations I am rarely the one to breakdown in tears and become a blubbering mess of emotions; for inexplicable reasons I tend to be the one that tries to lighten the mood, take charge and divert from the issues at hand. My accomplices (read: my children) are wonderful at assisting me when it comes to those uncomfortable, sad, tragically devastating times.

Today was one of those times.

As I’ve had a little bit of time to breakdown the past two days and see just what’s really come of them - particularly today - it paints a really beautiful image. Beautiful, yet completely heart wrenching.

I’ll take you back a little bit further….

My mom has two sisters. One older, one younger; then there is Liz. Liz is their cousin with whom they were extremely close with throughout their childhood and teen years. She is my aunt, though not really, she just is. Outgoing, confident and headstrong; Liz’s laugh and smile are completely and utterly contagious. She’s always, always made me feel comfortable, welcome and loved.

When my grandmother immigrated to Canada, as did her brother. My grandmother married and had children while my great uncle and great aunt adopted a daughter. Strong and vibrant, I’ve always viewed her as the glue that held the feuding and very different sisters together. She was the one to call them on their shit, the one that never seemed to shy away from a conflict, to face everything head on.

Then my grandpa died.

The feuding escalated to a point where even the glue was unable to bind the frail and broken pieces. Words had been said that could never be taken back and “family” became a figure of speech.

Since 1998 my maternal side of the family has not had a complete family gathering. The last time we were all together was my grandpa’s funeral. My mom has not seen her older sister in nearly ten years.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday the glue brought everyone back together.

Liz, still the glue.

Liz fought a somewhat silent battle with brain cancer. Not until surgery, radiation and chemotherapy were complete and the cancer had regressed did anyone know of the battle she was fighting. The battle that she was winning: a cancer surviour, doctors had given her two to four years life expectancy and she’s been here eight. Eight years she’s fought the battle with cancer and won; she’s a fighter in every sense of the word.

The past six months her cancer was back with a vengeance. No one but her immediate family knew, once again she was fighting a silent battle. Not until two days ago did we know the turn she’d taken. Not until two days ago did we know it was now time to say goodbye. She’s still holding on; with a little help from some machines she’s still here with us, for now.

Hudson and I were at the hospital today with family. Four generations of our family in one room, again. For the first time, he met his great-great uncle, great-great aunt, his great aunt and uncle, as well. Smiling, cooing, laughing, he was oblivious to why we were together, bringing smiles, laughter and a little bit of happiness to a heavy and sad situation.

Now that we’re at the crossroad, there are so many things I am wishing I had done differently. I wish we had spent more time together. I wish I hadn’t been so self absorbed in my life and taken more time to visit with her. I wish she had a chance to meet and hold Hudson.

For a little bit of time she was able to open her eyes and see that we were all there for her. As I brought Hudson around into her sight, her eyes widened as she raised her eyebrows. I could envision just what she would have said, could she have been able to. Tears streamed down my face as I watched her expression change. I wanted so bad for her to have the chance to hold him.

As much as I long for what could have, or maybe should have been. We can only move forward from here. Take the remaining days that we have and hope that she is pain free and knows just how much she is loved.

Because she is in a small town, close to her home, the hospital doesn’t have a palliative care wing, but instead she’s taken care of by the obstetric nurses in the maternity ward.

Ironically, she spends her last days where many begin theirs.

I am not one to make New Year’s resolutions, I never have. It’s not that I don’t think it’s a great idea, it’s basically just easier not to. I mean, why set unrealistic goals for myself that I’ll just be disappointed by when I fail? Exercise more? Floss daily? Eat better? Lose weight? The typical resolutions where I see too many opportunities for failure due to my overwhelming lack of will power and self control.

My resolution? Not to resolute.

Wait. Is that a resolution? If I’ve never resoluted resolved to do anything before and am continuing that trend, am I, in essence, resolute?

Uh. What?

Moving on.

I like the idea of starting off with a clean slate for the year; the possibility of starting anew with fresh ideas, simplified tasks, and decluttered thinking. I just can’t do it. I carry too much baggage.

I think that’s why I never would be a successful interior designer. I don’t know how to organize and declutter effectively so that it lasts and works for longer than a week or so. Take my living room for example; it wasn’t even 4 weeks ago that I moved it around, cleaned, decluttered toys and organized them. As I sit here, there are no less than eight toys at my feet as well as a train table littered with Hot Wheels to my right.

Okay, where was a going with this?

I feel defeated as soon as all my hard work is violated by boys (and men).

There. I said it.

They cramp my style (or the style I like to pretend to think I have).

(Pretend to think I have? Huh?)

To recap: I’ve resolved not to have resolutions because I could never be an interior designer and when I clean and organize my house (or car) the men in my family can - and do - dismantle my hard work in milliseconds.

Makes total sense to me. What aren’t you understanding?

Passing the buck.

Maybe that’s a resolution I can make.

Not to stop doing it. Just do it better.

Every time I sit down to write something the words have escaped me.

I could sit here and talk about how my three year old has been sleeping nights in his underwear. How he’s been asking to wear them instead of pull ups every night this past week.

I could tell you how we’re working on crying it out since I am so over the whole co-sleeping thing. Maybe even mention that I’ve had two solid nights of sleep, through to 7am. (I know!)

I could even tell you that having Mike home has been nice; even almost pleasant since Carter has been elated to wake up each morning with Daddy here. Having Mike be the favourite to play cars, hockey and to wipe his ass? I cannot tell you how much I am enjoying that.

I could even mention that one night last week, after bringing in groceries, we left the dog outside, unattended. She decided it was boring to wait at the front door any longer for someone to let her in so she joined the next dog walker she could find. They walked for about an hour while the lady tried to find Briggs’ rightful owners then took her home to call the shelter since she had tags.

I could even divulge that since Briggs normally sleeps on our bed, away from the kiddie action, we didn’t even notice she was missing until the shelter called. How brutal is that!? Seriously, that dog has been neglected since the kids came along. This is pointedly evident now. Poor doog. I can’t even explain to unsurmountable guilt I’ve felt since. Thankfully the couple that found her had taken her in, cared for her - even trimming her long nails! - and drove her home after getting our address from the shelter.

You know, with the pit bull laws in Ontario now, we were thisclose to having our beloved dog removed from our home, submitted to euthanasia while we could have been charged upwards of $10,000. All for forgetting her outside? THE GUILT!! I just can’t even imagine if the wrong person had found her. Admitting that I’ve failed my dog (since I’m such a crazy animal lover) is hard. Knowing that she’s safe and at home helps.

But all that stuff? It’s all meh. Uninteresting, life things.

So? What’s new with you?

:::

Oh, and since I’ve dragged my ass with this Starbucks giftcard giveaway, I’ve decided to pick two winners - which I’ll share the first week of January.

Best wishes for a fun and SAFE New Years’ Eve. Stay off the roads if you’re drinking and enjoy your time with friends and family!

xox

My house very well could have been hit by a bomb. There’s boxes, candy wrappers and toys strewn about every room. Board games clutter the kitchen counters, half eaten birthday cake is wrapped and sitting amongst a cluster of crumbs, the counters are barely visible through Christmas gift bags, gift boxes, clothes and child / baby necessities. I haven’t been able to walk through my living room in four days with out having to avoid toys as if they were land mines strewn about; we’re still clad in pajamas as we have been well into the afternoon most days.

The children have had no routine. Hudson is currently sleeping in my bed, arms delicately resting above his head while a light snore escapes his lips, completely and utterly oblivious to the world around him - for the past two hours!

Carter fell asleep on my brother’s sofa last night - the first time in his years of life that he has slept on a couch. Content and comfortable, he cuddled a stuff animal while we talked loudly above Dirty Jobs,  laughing and enjoying family around him. For the past two nights, he has slept in beds which were not his own. For the past two nights he has slept in his underwear without an incident!

Tons of food, even more cleaning and none of it has been done in my own house. We’ve been traveling the same small circuit over the past four days, with more to come later this evening when family comes from out of town for a friendly game of Poker. The children will once again be consumed with lights, laughter, food and family while they crash in a different bed once again tonight.

I have yet to take a photo of the memories we’ve been creating, instead of sitting on the sidelines with my camera in hand, I have been taking part and committing everything to memory rather then digital reminders. Even though I feel a twinge of guilt that I will not have my photos to share with family and friends, there are others to share with me instead.

As I sit on the sofa amidst pillows, blankets, boxes and toy parts while I try and gather a few thoughts, I have an overwhelming sense of love and family. Carter yells for his dad to crash cars with him, while the dog looks for a save spot to snooze. The cat creeps by hoping to avoid the dog and I sip my coffee as though it’s a life source meant to be savoured.

Thoughts of Mike’s layoff and impending job search have been moved to the back burner while we enjoy what really matters. Our loved ones; and even though there is a great possibility of troubled financing times looming over us, I have never felt so wealthy.