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.

I always forget about road rage. The good old divided highway, two lanes one way, two lanes the other way, green forest in between. When you move across the provinces this is not the case everywhere.

In Ontario, on average near the city there are twelve lanes. Six for each direction. there are three for express travelling distance. Then another three called collector lanes for getting on and off the highway. If you need to get off at the next exit, you need to plan.

In New Brunswick, we have the fast lane and slow lane. You are suppose to drive in the slow lane, going into the fast lane to pass. Our speed limit is 110km/hr, there 100km/hr with loss of points, hefty fines and cameras taking offenders pictures. Their highway moves half a million people per day.

It is the Indy 500 there! If you have on your cruise control and go to pass, you better accelerate. They will be in your backseat and flashing their lights, horn blaring. If the construction sign says lane closed, people not just stay in the lane till the last second, I seen someone go onto the shoulder to pass the guy waiting till the last second to cut in front of them. Cutting someone off is standard, they get on the highway and if you can’t let them in, they come in anyways. I watched two cars at accerlerated speeds chase each other to continually cut each other off. Cars get into the spot behind the car in front of them where there is no draft and sling shot past just like the races! I prefer to watch the races in my livingroom. There is alway the car, the one that is a pretty colour and a really loud engine, that sneaks in and out from between cars to get two spots further then they just were.

When there is a car on the shoulder you are to get over into the left lane when passing, they are very serious about that there. I watched a OPP officer step onto the highway pointing at cars and thumbing them to get over. Pretty scary to step into the lane and command with your finger! People know the rules they just don’t follow them. I watched a poor ambulance going through the city and eighty percent get out of the way. Sure hope the other twenty percent wasn’t related to the poor soul they were trying to get to , to save!

Traffic can be bumper to bumper for miles, be sure to fill up your tank, and pee before you leave. I had forgotten about all that. I get irratated when the light takes too long to change. When you need to get over here, people let you and you wave to them like you are related. They don’t make eye contact there, lucky if you get a signal light, your wave is the middle finger! When I lived there, I took the subway, and now I remember why!

Social media is packed with mask and vaccine statements. People are so fired up with their feelings. So much division! Maybe we could just all get along!

I think that one of the issues is the loss of control over the term of this Pandemic. We are a free nation, and then there are people telling us we have to. We have choice, but there are restrictions in place for if you have or haven’t. It changes constantly, some people are not good with change. Opposing opinions are rampant right now. They differ across the world, from province to province, country to country. Experts weigh in on everything making it confusing. Media is sensationalizing everything.

Everyone is sharing their thoughts, tunnel vision. I’m not much of a debater in a public forum. I think what I think. I do what works for me. My job is to be responsible for me! My nature has always made me see both sides of the coin. I am not a specialist, or expert, I am not educating anyone. Face to face conversations I state my opinion. We are entitled to one. Dictating to one another your way or the highway makes nothing but more mess.

Like everyone I want Covid to be over. I want my family intact. I avoid the news, but it still reaches me, everyone talks about it! Keep your fingers out of your eyes , nose and mouth! Be safe friends, be safe!