October is fire safety month, it comes, it goes, it is important. In schools we have fire drills, we have a leaflet that goes home and I hope many pay attention. In our home we have fire alarms with batteries, annoying as they may be. I know sometimes the oven smokes after cooking bacon, or the soup gets on the burner and then we have to listen to the blaring sound. Don’t take the batteries out, please.

We have a chemical fire extinguisher in the kitchen, our fire escape plan has been discussed, now and earlier when the kids were small. It’s a five minute talk. How to get out and where to meet.

I have had 2 little kitchen fires, one was a wax smelly thing that sat on the table that you plug in. Burnt my fingers tossing it into the sink. Another time grease spilt on the burner in the oven and hubby covered it with a big cookie sheet. Sounds simple, could of been worse.

My husband has been in two fires, that is the force behind our plan. In his childhood home, a relative put a towel on a radiator, their house burnt to the ground, only the cast iron tub remained. They were rescued, it was the middle of the night. The other fire was his ghetto blaster caught fire at the plug, while he slept. His father smelt smoke and openned the door, the oxygen fueled the fire and his bed caught on fire with him in it. He was able to get out, and they tossed the matress out the window to thankfully prevent any spread.

Many kids are falling asleep with their electronics plugged in as they use them till they go to sleep. A five minute talk people, not to cause fear, but to educate..

Some dates make me feel old. It fascinates me, prices of yesteryear compared to current day! In my geneology stash there are articles, with advertisements on the side, of house prices in the early 1900’s. A single family homes in Toronto being offered for around $3000.00 There are old letters in there taking about wages and monthly rent. It always pulls me in, I look at one thing, which leads me to another. Letter writing was the only way a lot of our ancestors kept in touch.

Grammie’s letters were always about the day to day and the condition of the kids. Illness, ailments, and what changes were being made to the home. It is a real sneak peak into the past. My own birth notice in the paper, charges for wedding flowers, a notice from the hospital on the expectation at the hospital after you give birth. Life has changed so much!

Society as a whole is different, family dynamics, economy, work ethic and even basic needs vs wants. I was talking the other day about 9/11, and I realized my Grandkids were not even born when all that happened, even my youngest would of only been six. I mean the Backstreet boys are all in their forties! The things from our past that follow us through to the future age with us, but it still catches me off guard. Even my own reflection, while window shopping has given me a double take!

Never argue with a three year old, you will not win. The best way to communicate with a toddler is choice. Do you want to go to bed in your dinosaur jammies or the hockey ones? It takes going to bed off the bargaining table and gives them options. They think they are controlling the situation. If you are asking them a yes or no question…. probably going to get what they want. They will choose whatever makes life harder!

Rushing around trying to get everyone out the door can be very exhausting. Anything with tots can be! So state the non negotiable and sweeten it with choice. Time for lunch, do you want your sandwich in squares or triangles? We are going to the grocery store, do you want you bring a stuffy or a book? Of course this isn’t always effective, but this approach helps.

If you are good at it, you can use it on spouses too! Seriously though, being stubborn, I know if things are presented to me in a certain way, I am more apt to do them. Think of it as a life hack. Once you are old enough to reason, the debates are on. This just helps choose the battles.

California Dreaming by the Beach Boys, Momma loved them. I think I know every song! Momma would crank them on and we would clean the house. She could do every dance, Bristol stomp, Mashed Potatoe, the Twist. She and Dad would Jive dance. It is funny how old memories just pop into your head. Music triggers that for me all the time.

Music can be therapy, it takes us places, sympathizes with us, uplifts us. When no one else can be around, music can. I often wonder what would happen if hospitals and senior homes and people suffering with Dementia were able to listen to their genre of music throughout the day. Specific for them, significant to them if it would bring them more peace and happiness.

Of course music played on elevators and when you are placed on hold should not be on the playlist. They are kinda onto something, helping you relax. Now when I hear it, it doesn’t evoke that at all anymore.

Teens typically go through the music stage, I did, my kids did, and we shouldn’t give it up! When life gets stale and repetitive, when you are feeling low, put on some music. I had forgotten what it can do, I found my records the other day, and yes I still have a record player. Music from growing up, teen years, young adult life, I went back there for a while and it was beautiful!

Sometimes the noise in my head is deafening. The needle gets stuck on the record player. Repeat. Climbing uphill constantly, draining! I don’t even know where the stamina comes from. I always aim for some magical silver lining. Something on the horizon, over the next crest, just beyond reach. Is that hope? Is it survival? I create a new scenario in my head to solve problems. I don’t give up, I come so close to throwing in the towel, but I never do. Baby steps, baby bites, I can get so distracted by the big picture I won’t look at.

I never count stairs when I climb them, I don’t want to know how many are there. That’s weird! The step that matters, is the one I am on. I seriously do not know how many steps are on my staircase. I have never counted stairs beyond 3 with my kids. We have counted plenty of things but never the stairs. I can walk through my entire house in the pitch dark, and I do not count the stairs.

There are so many quirky nonsensical things about me. Volume numbers on the TV, I have to look at my keys twice before I close a door and lock it. I have a ritual I have to perform before I go to bed, checking things. It is a little OCD, I have let a lot of little things go that used to drive me crazy. Things being paralell, straight lines, my pillow position, time. It goes through phases, changes with age, eases! It’s a bit of a control thing, when life gets messy and chaotic, it can get a little worse. The static gets louder and I feel forever tense. I think age gives us time to dig deep into ourselves and see these things we didn’t really pay attention to. Or maybe it is wisdom that comes with age, that we can recognize we are odd. Realistically I know I am not the only one, well maybe the stairs thing…

Facebook has unlocked a rare look into everyone’s thoughts. People can be very transparent with their feelings. This has enabled the world to feel justified to pooh pooh on and judge each other. Not exactly setting people up to thrive or flourish. Social media is a public forum, people gave up the newspaper to read peoples dirt and roll around in it. On the same token people are getting all offended when others disagree on public statements. It really is quite a never ending circle.

Drama is infinite! In a last email from my father, he sent me a lessons in life column he had sent to him. One of the statements was, “it is none of your business what other people think of you.” I mean really why do you care? If you are your best self and strive to be better everyday, if you are always trying to be a better version of yourself, that is all you can do. If not, well that is on you and you will be called on it. No one is perfect, no one is absolutely right, no one is without faults. You do not know everthing. No matter what you know, you are not in someone else’s shoes. You have not partaken in their journey. Your beliefs are yours, whether they are right or wrong.

Assumptions do not solve world mysteries. Tone can not be detected in the written word. Mood can not be noted on a faceless note or post. You can play Ring around the Rosie all day with words. You want to ask..ask. You need to know..talk. Please talk, more people need to talk, without the screen, talk.

Anyone that knows my Mom, loves her! She is a giver, she loves to make people happy. She is always smiling, she is the definition of cute. She joined a seniors group pre covid and provided the fun. Dressing like an elf at Christmas, her antics are adorable.

Gardening and cooking are her talents among many. A true Matriarch to our family, she is the only surviving parent for both me and my husband, and grandparent for my children. We don’t age in our family and she will never be old.

She was raised in the city in Springfield Mass. Her father was a Steeves and was from Steeves Settlement, they returned here when she was a teen. I never really thought about it much until recently. Most of been a real culture shock to move from the city and move to her father’s childhood home. She grew up during a time when the assassination of JFK was an announcement on the speaker in school. Segregation was real, freedom buses were real! The draft was a real fear in her family, she had brothers. Her own parents grew up during war times, and saving things, food stamps, rations were things that they had been through.

We don’t have to go that far back to see how far we have come. There are real skill sets that these generations had that wouldn’t hurt for us to learn. For self sufficiency to teach the next generation. It seems we are more materialistic now then ever. Back to basics at home, not so much stuff would be a real asset for everyone. Maybe the drive to have is because the previous generations did not have. Live simple, be happy should be the goal.

School is about to begin! I like the organized flow of the school day. I am a creature of habit, schedules and routine. I like picking out things to wear, packing things up, and heading out the door.

I know it’s not quite that simple with kids. Someone is always missing something. Usually out the door is when they remember to tell you something they need that day. I had one daughter that was meticulous about putting her hair in a pony tail, couldn’t have a bump on the hair going into the pony. I would finally get her out of the washroom and her sibling would point out a bump. My son couldn’t stand seams at the toe of his socks. If there were seams, they had to go on a certain way. My other daughter had me iron her hair( with an iron) every morning to erase her gorgeous curls.

I hated making lunches. They always came back, they never ate them past elementary school. One thing I was thankful for, they didn’t lose things. Not a hat, mitten, coat and believe me that happens. I wasn’t one to run to the school for something they forgot either. I had friends that made daily trips to bring something to their child.

It was a whirlwind when they got home. Starving, stories, things for me to see, starting homework so the rest of the night was theirs. I have a bin for each of them and all their school day treasures live there. I miss those days, the hub bub. Especially the younger years, when their teachers were the best and you were the hero in every story they wrote. It wasn’t all good, but that is what makes them who they are. It sure slips by pretty fast.

Nothing to fear, but fear itself. Being afraid seems like it could be a choice, some people rationalize everything. I like ghost stories, and playing with the idea that stuff could be real. Adds a little depth to reality. Beyond mysteries the unknown can spark just as much fear.

Your mind can go to some pretty dark places when faced with age or illness, or life in generasl. It’s fine, it’s nothing, is easy to advise people, but a little harder to arrive there. After I had kids, I had a lot of irrational fears. Transport trucks on the highway used to terrify me. I remember my mom was terified of train trestles. Of course Mom had a reason, she was on one when the train came and had to stand on a platform as it went by.

Some fears just are. I used to be afraid of our basement stairs. I would rationalize when I started up, but would be running full tilt to the top at about half way. I know there is no Boogeyman, but I just couldn’t contain that feeling. Geneology takes me to a lot of graveyards for research. Sometimes it is beyond eerie! Reading the stones, ages of death, so many died of Influenza and Consumption. I encountered someone in the graveyard once, and to this day I am not sure if she was real. I still have goosebumps when I recall that memory. It was broad daylight, my friends were playing beyond the graveyard and I was going to meet them. A young woman was on the path and when our eyes met she beckoned with her hand for me to come over. I started up the path towards her, she was wearing a pale blue dress, she had flowers.. then she disapeared.

Premonitions, ghosts, angels, I believe in it. Maybe because I believe, I see? Some things can’t be explained.

Procrastination is not my friend. Most of the time I am on point, some things get moved to the back burner, some of these things are not by choice. I can keep my house cleaned, feed my family and run the show. I have only learned to delegate in more recent years.

I have implemented myself into the fine web, that is overflowing. Less is more, but sometimes it is too much. One appointment change can alter a well oiled machine. An appliance break down, a house project, car maintenance all contribute to set backs.

When the kids were young and all in school, their arrival home was referred to as the hurricane. Transitions are hard, and heading back to work has me a little edgy. It’s like a timer and everything needs to be done before. That is me though and I have been trying to hit the snooze button on my brain. I keep telling myself, no it does not all have to be done. It’s not a times up! Things can still be done after work starts.

I keep having full blown hot flashes , sleepless nights and heart palpitations. I hate not being prepared. When I attended school, I used to dream the night before the school year started about all these people I would meet. A huge meet and greet all night. Stranger after stranger, I guess that’s how I prepared myself for the big day. You can get out of practice when you are away from people.

One day at a time, seems to be my current motto. It’s a good motto, racing ahead does nothing. Enjoy the moment, you don’t have to look ahead. Whatever will be, will be.