Dear Nate,
Last night when we said our goodbyes you told me one last time happy mother’s day, and that I am a wonderful mother, and that I deserved more than a day, and I replied that I always get more than a day, because you take such good care of me.
I just wanted to put it here in writing that I really do believe this. You are such a wonderful husband and caring father, and nearly every weekend you work extra hard to take care of the kids, change all the diapers you can, and let me sleep in. It’s funny to me because aside from the lovely heartfelt gifts this Sunday really wasn’t all that different than any other and it fills me with such gratitude because regardless of the day you always take special care to give us your all and make sure that we all get what we need.
There are so many times that I find myself thinking about you and feeling an overwhelming amount of appreciation that you are my partner in this life. We spoke briefly about those times we hung out all those years ago, times when there was little more than a spark and a possibility between us. I remember you so distinctly, there in your apartment, the way you connected with those around you, your gentleness, your humor, a picture of you and your college friends on your fridge, your sandals by the door. All these little bits that I took in, I remember each and everyone. I remember the rush of excitement I felt in the pit of my stomach when I was around you, I remember everyone finding their place to rest on the couch, and me getting up to go see you. I remember staying up talking to you, I remember the rhythm of your breathing changing as you fell asleep and the birds outside beginning to sing as night faded and the morning appeared. I remember our last conversation after this fateful meeting, you sitting on your desk telling me about your move back home, me wishing you weren’t leaving but not being able to say it, you telling me between the lines that you had no ties there in Ottawa to keep you there. I remember waking up in the morning and feeling the loss of something that never was.
I love the story you told me about when we first started dating. You had told someone at work that you met a girl and he was all taken aback and telling you that it was too early to be attached to someone. Pleading his case he said “remember that girl in Ottawa that you were so head over heels about?” and you replied “that’s the girl I’m with”.
It amazes me every day that the universe found a way to keep us together, and that we are here in this place. I love being able to indulge in you completely and that there is nothing there to hold us back. I love that we are husband and wife and we have these kids that are equal parts you and me. The more we grow together and intertwine the more complete I feel. When I fell in love with you all those years ago I knew so little about who you were, I had no idea about the unending patience and care you possessed.
There’s really no words to express the thanks I feel for all that you are but I’m going to go ahead and say it anyway. Thank you. Thank you for making me feel so special, thank you for taking such great care to make this mother’s day special. Thank you for putting extra effort into everyday we spend together. Thank you for finding your way back to me.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Lauri
Monday, May 14, 2012
Monday, November 14, 2011
That which is made, that which is created
Dear Nate,
I believe we ended our conversation tonight with “…so that’s about all that’s happened today” and while at the time that was true things quickly changed, and a second update is in order.
I remember being young and trying to wrap my head around concepts that are difficult to grasp. Those things in life that are mysterious even to adults and require equal parts science and spirituality. It’s difficult for young impressionable minds to wrap their heads around the details of scientific explanations but their ability to understand and observe the nuts and bolts of the everyday give them a thirst for knowledge of the unknown.
After we let you go Vella and I had some pillow talk, during which she told me that people “dive” and that she didn’t want daddy or meme and grandpa to “dive”. I was confused at first but quickly realized that she was referring to death. She wanted to talk about death. WOA!
At first I just listened. Listening to her train of thought on the subject was easily one of the most captivating things I’ve ever witnessed. I remember a long time ago coming across an article of a parent who gave their child a camera and asked them to take some pictures. I remember looking at those pictures and being interested in the details the child captured – it was as though through those pictures I was being offered a glimpse into their world. Tonight I got more than a glimpse, I got the keys to the kingdom.
I don’t know if I can properly weave the web of thoughts that have given Vella a basis for her understanding on the subject of death but I can say that her thoughts are based upon a notion of broken vs. fixed. I don’t want to get all academic here, but given my background the only thing I can relate it to is the notion of cultural relativism, you know, the concept that our version of the world is a product of our own thoughts, experiences and predisposition. In trying to understand an abstract concept such as death Vella has attempted to relate it to that which she knows to be concrete. She talked about the trains in the train yard crashing together and the bottles of cologne in the men’s magazine that she saw that were being smashed. When talking about the trains being broken she actually talked about them being made of glass and smashing together and breaking. She talked about the spider that weaves its web and catches flies and how the spider eats the flies. She talked about how a shark can bite you and you can bleed. She talked about how you bleed when you get a cut. She even gestured above her head (circling her little hand in a circle) when she talked about how everyone dies and how she didn’t want daddy or meme and grandpa to die, showing me that she has some sort of notion about life force. To her death was all those things, the cycle of life with the spider and the fly and the simple notion that something can be whole one minute and broken the next.
I’ve always enjoyed the way in which my mom would explain things in an uncensored manner; her straight forward answers and matter-of-fact air made me feel comfortable with topics that could potentially make me feel scared or overwhelmed. So tonight I tried to do just that, talk about things candidly but bypass the specifics of grief and grieving. I explained to her that a train doesn’t die because it’s not alive. We talked about the things that are material and have no life force and we talked about things that are alive. Every concept we discussed brought about a series of other question; a train is broken and is fixed, a finger can be broken too? The blood that runs out of cuts was related to the stuffing that is in a bear, glass bottles were related to teapots and curtains and window trim were related to staircases (don’t even ask about that one, it’s a whole other conversation). In the end she was able to grasp that being alive means that you have a beating heart, and in my final attempt to end the conversation so that she could get to bed I told her that I would show her the circulatory system in her body book. You know what her response to that was? “We will learn about trains tomorrow too ok?”
I know that it hurts your heart to be far away and missing out on these little occurrences so I promise to let you handle some of the other serious conversations we will need to have with the girls. When the time comes to discuss the birds and the bees the stage is all yours ok?
Lots of love and a little fairy dust,
xo Lauri
I believe we ended our conversation tonight with “…so that’s about all that’s happened today” and while at the time that was true things quickly changed, and a second update is in order.
I remember being young and trying to wrap my head around concepts that are difficult to grasp. Those things in life that are mysterious even to adults and require equal parts science and spirituality. It’s difficult for young impressionable minds to wrap their heads around the details of scientific explanations but their ability to understand and observe the nuts and bolts of the everyday give them a thirst for knowledge of the unknown.
After we let you go Vella and I had some pillow talk, during which she told me that people “dive” and that she didn’t want daddy or meme and grandpa to “dive”. I was confused at first but quickly realized that she was referring to death. She wanted to talk about death. WOA!
At first I just listened. Listening to her train of thought on the subject was easily one of the most captivating things I’ve ever witnessed. I remember a long time ago coming across an article of a parent who gave their child a camera and asked them to take some pictures. I remember looking at those pictures and being interested in the details the child captured – it was as though through those pictures I was being offered a glimpse into their world. Tonight I got more than a glimpse, I got the keys to the kingdom.
I don’t know if I can properly weave the web of thoughts that have given Vella a basis for her understanding on the subject of death but I can say that her thoughts are based upon a notion of broken vs. fixed. I don’t want to get all academic here, but given my background the only thing I can relate it to is the notion of cultural relativism, you know, the concept that our version of the world is a product of our own thoughts, experiences and predisposition. In trying to understand an abstract concept such as death Vella has attempted to relate it to that which she knows to be concrete. She talked about the trains in the train yard crashing together and the bottles of cologne in the men’s magazine that she saw that were being smashed. When talking about the trains being broken she actually talked about them being made of glass and smashing together and breaking. She talked about the spider that weaves its web and catches flies and how the spider eats the flies. She talked about how a shark can bite you and you can bleed. She talked about how you bleed when you get a cut. She even gestured above her head (circling her little hand in a circle) when she talked about how everyone dies and how she didn’t want daddy or meme and grandpa to die, showing me that she has some sort of notion about life force. To her death was all those things, the cycle of life with the spider and the fly and the simple notion that something can be whole one minute and broken the next.
I’ve always enjoyed the way in which my mom would explain things in an uncensored manner; her straight forward answers and matter-of-fact air made me feel comfortable with topics that could potentially make me feel scared or overwhelmed. So tonight I tried to do just that, talk about things candidly but bypass the specifics of grief and grieving. I explained to her that a train doesn’t die because it’s not alive. We talked about the things that are material and have no life force and we talked about things that are alive. Every concept we discussed brought about a series of other question; a train is broken and is fixed, a finger can be broken too? The blood that runs out of cuts was related to the stuffing that is in a bear, glass bottles were related to teapots and curtains and window trim were related to staircases (don’t even ask about that one, it’s a whole other conversation). In the end she was able to grasp that being alive means that you have a beating heart, and in my final attempt to end the conversation so that she could get to bed I told her that I would show her the circulatory system in her body book. You know what her response to that was? “We will learn about trains tomorrow too ok?”
I know that it hurts your heart to be far away and missing out on these little occurrences so I promise to let you handle some of the other serious conversations we will need to have with the girls. When the time comes to discuss the birds and the bees the stage is all yours ok?
Lots of love and a little fairy dust,
xo Lauri
Friday, October 7, 2011
Your Capital Letters are Hard to Ignore
I’ve been thinking a lot about how much the world loves you. Now more than ever it seems that people are falling over themselves aching to get a spot beside you, or across from you or even a few feet away from you. Remember the INCO days? All that hate and anxiety between you and your co-workers? How funny and weird does that all seem now?
You know when you see Vella at the park and she’s hitting it off with other kids and you’re happy because she’s so great and others are seeing that greatness? She gets that excited smile and starts getting all hyper excited. Well I feel that same joy when I see that people want a piece of you, because I know how great you are, and when others see that I want to lift up my eyebrows, nod my head up and down and give them an exaggerated shoulder nudge. And I can’t help but feel especially blessed because while they want a piece, I get the whole pie. I get daily conversations with you, and late night pillow talk. I get to hear about your dreams and fears and anxieties, about the things that aggravate you and the things you love. We create children together and raise them, and one day we will grow old and enjoy each other in yet another capacity.
This working away from home thing has really changed the dynamics of our marriage. At first the stress of change and learning to care for a household all by myself left me slightly annoyed. I would listen to you on the phone talking about your hardships and would roll my eyes, and you would come home and mess with our schedule and it would drive me nuts. Looking for a car was probably the biggest catalyst of it all, and even though you didn’t do it on purpose it became a big bone of contention. But you allowed me to discuss these things with you, and instead of being defensive you listened, and you acted, and we fixed it. I like that we are able to let these times of tribulation come and go and that at the heart of it all is a muscle that is worked and strengthened. Your patience and understanding is such an amazing gift and I really do feel that it is the backbone of us communicating as well as we do.
So what exactly am I getting at here? I miss you. Being slightly annoyed with things distracted me enough that I didn’t think about the bigger picture. But the dynamics of our relationship have evolved again and left me with an ache in my heart that can only be filled by your presence. October is such an amazing month; it is a time for quality and family, for spicy smells and hot coffee, warm bodied kids in cold sheets, late night talks with full glasses of wine. October was the month we finally decided to get together, all those years ago. We talked on the phone for hours at a time until the fateful day that you met me at the bus station. You picked me up in your fancy car and took me to buy nearly 10 bottles of wine. We stayed up all night talking, laying on opposite sides of the couch. You took me to meet your crazy cousin and to buy some music. I took you to my mom who welcomed you with open arms. There was nervousness and electricity, turkey and the beginning of something great. We kissed for the first time, innocently, sharing the lip gloss we had just coated on our lips.
Thanksgiving is coming up this weekend and it is easy for me to look around and feel overwhelmed at the mere mention of the word “thanks”. There’s no doubt that physically we are further from one another than we’ve been in a long time, but emotionally we are closer than ever. In the greater scheme of our relationship this Metachewan gig is but a blink of the eye, but the tools it has given us will last us the rest of our lives. That ache that I feel in my heart is you, and through that ache I feel you in a very real way and while it might hurt some nights it reminds me of all that you are and just how thankful I am and it brings me back to the place I need to be. And in the end there is even some comfort in that.
I love you, so so very much.
xo Lauri
You know when you see Vella at the park and she’s hitting it off with other kids and you’re happy because she’s so great and others are seeing that greatness? She gets that excited smile and starts getting all hyper excited. Well I feel that same joy when I see that people want a piece of you, because I know how great you are, and when others see that I want to lift up my eyebrows, nod my head up and down and give them an exaggerated shoulder nudge. And I can’t help but feel especially blessed because while they want a piece, I get the whole pie. I get daily conversations with you, and late night pillow talk. I get to hear about your dreams and fears and anxieties, about the things that aggravate you and the things you love. We create children together and raise them, and one day we will grow old and enjoy each other in yet another capacity.
This working away from home thing has really changed the dynamics of our marriage. At first the stress of change and learning to care for a household all by myself left me slightly annoyed. I would listen to you on the phone talking about your hardships and would roll my eyes, and you would come home and mess with our schedule and it would drive me nuts. Looking for a car was probably the biggest catalyst of it all, and even though you didn’t do it on purpose it became a big bone of contention. But you allowed me to discuss these things with you, and instead of being defensive you listened, and you acted, and we fixed it. I like that we are able to let these times of tribulation come and go and that at the heart of it all is a muscle that is worked and strengthened. Your patience and understanding is such an amazing gift and I really do feel that it is the backbone of us communicating as well as we do.
So what exactly am I getting at here? I miss you. Being slightly annoyed with things distracted me enough that I didn’t think about the bigger picture. But the dynamics of our relationship have evolved again and left me with an ache in my heart that can only be filled by your presence. October is such an amazing month; it is a time for quality and family, for spicy smells and hot coffee, warm bodied kids in cold sheets, late night talks with full glasses of wine. October was the month we finally decided to get together, all those years ago. We talked on the phone for hours at a time until the fateful day that you met me at the bus station. You picked me up in your fancy car and took me to buy nearly 10 bottles of wine. We stayed up all night talking, laying on opposite sides of the couch. You took me to meet your crazy cousin and to buy some music. I took you to my mom who welcomed you with open arms. There was nervousness and electricity, turkey and the beginning of something great. We kissed for the first time, innocently, sharing the lip gloss we had just coated on our lips.
Thanksgiving is coming up this weekend and it is easy for me to look around and feel overwhelmed at the mere mention of the word “thanks”. There’s no doubt that physically we are further from one another than we’ve been in a long time, but emotionally we are closer than ever. In the greater scheme of our relationship this Metachewan gig is but a blink of the eye, but the tools it has given us will last us the rest of our lives. That ache that I feel in my heart is you, and through that ache I feel you in a very real way and while it might hurt some nights it reminds me of all that you are and just how thankful I am and it brings me back to the place I need to be. And in the end there is even some comfort in that.
I love you, so so very much.
xo Lauri
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Favorite Things
Sister Love
Baby sock feet
Waking up smiles
Need I say more?
Comfy new shoes
The joy of new things seen on the face of my girl
Helper Girl!
Anything my mom makes
Iced coffee
Having a mini real life version of me
My husband
We miss you Daddad.
hugs, kisses and a whole lotta love,
Lauri
Baby sock feet
Waking up smiles
Need I say more?
Comfy new shoes
The joy of new things seen on the face of my girl
Helper Girl!
Anything my mom makes
Iced coffee
Having a mini real life version of me
My husband
We miss you Daddad.
hugs, kisses and a whole lotta love,
Lauri
Saturday, August 6, 2011
I am Mum Mum
Who should I thank? Vella for letting me sleep in? Audrey for being so sweet? My mom for keeping me company and cooking me a tasty supper? All of the above I think. Today I got to feel like I was mom of the year and it was pretty incredible.
I so love it when I am in synch with the girls. Those magical days when our timming is on and the right things are said, and I can get to Audrey when she cries and Vella listens without tantrum. I was in Costco (buying Nate his fancy pillow, your welcome!) and Audrey opened her eyes while I was in line and I gave her a big smile and said Hello and she smiled back all sweet and excited. When I give Audrey this type of attention and focus I like to seek out Vella so that she never feels left out, so I got down on my knees and said "Are you having a nice time?" and she said yes and gave me a hug and I grabbed her and spun her around in my arms. And she was delighted. This was my day, all day, and it was wonderful.
I had special moments with my second born:
I so love it when I am in synch with the girls. Those magical days when our timming is on and the right things are said, and I can get to Audrey when she cries and Vella listens without tantrum. I was in Costco (buying Nate his fancy pillow, your welcome!) and Audrey opened her eyes while I was in line and I gave her a big smile and said Hello and she smiled back all sweet and excited. When I give Audrey this type of attention and focus I like to seek out Vella so that she never feels left out, so I got down on my knees and said "Are you having a nice time?" and she said yes and gave me a hug and I grabbed her and spun her around in my arms. And she was delighted. This was my day, all day, and it was wonderful.
I had special moments with my second born:
Vella had sunny naps in the car:
To my mom's dismay we watched Brother Bear:
But Lola's loss was Vella's gain (and this smile made it worthwhile for both parties)
I am so thankful for this wonderful day and that it has given me the confidence I need to face another extremely busy week. I am so ready to start this next week and quickly get it over with so that I can finaly be enjoying my time with you. We've been telling Vella about camp and how you're going to be there and she is so excited about it.
We miss you Nate and we can't wait to see you!
Love love,
Lauri
Friday, August 5, 2011
Twas a Good Day
Dearest Nate,
Today was a good day.
We colored pictures.
We stopped crying because we saw our mum mum and that made us happy.
We licked our plates clean because the pizza was so tasty.
We wore silly headbands to keep babies happy.
We gave lots and lots of cuddles.
We cradled tinny toes that fit easily into the palm of a hand.
We steadied a little girl with nothing more than a finger.
We played nicely (and not so nicely) with our cousin.
We laughed at silly faces.
We left messages for loved ones who were missing (courtesy of Buck)
And we missed you.
Today was a good day.
We colored pictures.
We stopped crying because we saw our mum mum and that made us happy.
We licked our plates clean because the pizza was so tasty.
We wore silly headbands to keep babies happy.
We gave lots and lots of cuddles.
We cradled tinny toes that fit easily into the palm of a hand.
We steadied a little girl with nothing more than a finger.
We played nicely (and not so nicely) with our cousin.
We laughed at silly faces.
We left messages for loved ones who were missing (courtesy of Buck)
And we missed you.I love you,
xo Lauri
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Burnout
Look what I did! All nice and organized, just like you like it:
Audrey is beside me in her car seat, all fresh and clean from a bath, and does not like it when I leave the room. So for the time being I am tethered to my computer, directly beside her. I am her rock and her source of comfort and my mere presence makes her feel safe. She is drifting in and out of sleep and each time she wakes she locks her eyes with mine, no expression on her face, yet I instinctually know that this is calming her. How wonderful and amazing it is to be a mom.
Vella is downstairs watching TV. I didn't plan on letting her watch TV today but deadlines and TO DO lists have won and survival is in full effect - at the very least I can be pleased enough that she asked properly.
Today has been crazy and I already feel like it's only just begining. Works been more demanding this week and has thus taken presedence over things like activities and house work. Andrea is coming over tomorrow so I feel that much more pressured to have the house in order.
Thankfully my mom is making us dinner tonight. The quality time we get to spend with my mom has definitely been a nice side effect to you leaving town for work. Its funny because I have infinitely less help with you gone but having my mom here makes it feel like I have the village I need to raise the kids. We've been driving around town completing little errands and giving into our ice coffee cravings and it feels like old times. It takes a certain amount of humour to take everything in stride and it's created a light heartedness between us that we haven't really experienced since I was in university.
Tomorrow will easily be the busiest of all days this week since I have a midwife appointment at 10, a deadline to finish my local ethics bundle and a visit planned with your sister. But it's also Friday and I know that a break is just around the corner so I will keep my eye on the prize and plow through it. But don't be feeling sorry for me because this busyness makes the time fly and I can't imagine pacing around counting down the minutes until you return. In a lot of ways it's a blessing in disguise and I am quite content to keep on keeping on.
Please don't be worrying about your little family. We are all happy and safe. Vella seems to have this really mature understanding of the situation and while she obviously misses you to bits she seems to understand that you're away for work and that you will be home again soon - she is such a fascinating 2 year old.
Audrey is beside me in her car seat, all fresh and clean from a bath, and does not like it when I leave the room. So for the time being I am tethered to my computer, directly beside her. I am her rock and her source of comfort and my mere presence makes her feel safe. She is drifting in and out of sleep and each time she wakes she locks her eyes with mine, no expression on her face, yet I instinctually know that this is calming her. How wonderful and amazing it is to be a mom.
Vella is downstairs watching TV. I didn't plan on letting her watch TV today but deadlines and TO DO lists have won and survival is in full effect - at the very least I can be pleased enough that she asked properly.
Today has been crazy and I already feel like it's only just begining. Works been more demanding this week and has thus taken presedence over things like activities and house work. Andrea is coming over tomorrow so I feel that much more pressured to have the house in order.
Thankfully my mom is making us dinner tonight. The quality time we get to spend with my mom has definitely been a nice side effect to you leaving town for work. Its funny because I have infinitely less help with you gone but having my mom here makes it feel like I have the village I need to raise the kids. We've been driving around town completing little errands and giving into our ice coffee cravings and it feels like old times. It takes a certain amount of humour to take everything in stride and it's created a light heartedness between us that we haven't really experienced since I was in university.
Tomorrow will easily be the busiest of all days this week since I have a midwife appointment at 10, a deadline to finish my local ethics bundle and a visit planned with your sister. But it's also Friday and I know that a break is just around the corner so I will keep my eye on the prize and plow through it. But don't be feeling sorry for me because this busyness makes the time fly and I can't imagine pacing around counting down the minutes until you return. In a lot of ways it's a blessing in disguise and I am quite content to keep on keeping on.
Please don't be worrying about your little family. We are all happy and safe. Vella seems to have this really mature understanding of the situation and while she obviously misses you to bits she seems to understand that you're away for work and that you will be home again soon - she is such a fascinating 2 year old.
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