Showing posts from April, 2015

May-hem: A Re-Post

Last year, I did myself a favour. I wrote — and posted publicly — a reminder about what May is like. Then I created a reminder in my calendar that I should a) read the post and b) that my loved ones know why I'd be incommunicado for the month of May. The reminder arrived as clockwork on April 1st.  I promptly snoozed it repeatedly until the end of last week. Oops. As I apparently can't be relied upon to follow simple directions (even my own), I am herewith putting it out there in public again. If I disappear a bit over the next month, now you know why. ------ I have a love-hate relationship with May.  May is the month when the world comes back to life, when it’s 99% sure it won’t snow again for months, when grey and brown makes room for shades of green and when it finally and at last becomes warm enough to take off my socks and set my toes free after a winter of being trapped.  What’s not to love? May, however, is also Arthritis Awareness Month in t

Spring in the City

It's here. It's actually here. What so many of us were starting to doubt would ever arrive, finally did. Spring. Yes, really. It's here. Want to see proof? It's sunny and warm. For the last several days, I've made sure to take a lunchbreak and spent it in the neighbourhood with my camera. First, I went to the park. And saw crocus. In abundance. I love that colour, a splash of brightness among the dead leaves left over from the Fall. (as usual, click to embiggen) Another first! A yellowbellied sapsucker. In downtown Toronto. It never fails to amaze me how much nature is around us, if you look closely enough. Every now and again, I meet the squirrel guy. He comes every day to feed the squirrels and by now, they come when he calls them. Who wouldn't with this kind of treat? It's hard work getting through the shell. Afterwards, this wee one had a rest, basking in the sunlight. On Sunday I took a walk by Sugar Beach. And there were people

No Child of My Own

Last week’s excellent CreakyChat on family planning and rheumatic diseases brought up some memories. I remember the moment I decided not to have children of my own. My mother is pushing my manual chair through the old part of Rigshospitalet , the hospital where I spent several years waiting for hip replacements. The hospital where I go to see my rheumatologist. Where we have just been, on one of the regular checkup visits to see how I’m doing. The older area is composed of a multitude of red brick three-story buildings, each containing a different department, different offices, all connected by elaborate tunnels underground. Both my sister and I were born in one of those buildings. I remember visiting my mother while she was on bedrest, holding on to my sister who, just like me, was in a rush to get out. I remember the old linoleum, the tall windows, the smells of beds, babies, and breast milk. It is early summer, on the cusp between May and June. All the trees ar

Tinks, Bubblewrap, and a Birthday

It's April. How did it get to be April?? I must've blinked... April means Easter and Easter means a visit by the Tinks. This year, it also meant celebrating my mother's birthday. Well, the first celebration. We are waiting with the grand shindig for when she is fully recovered from her hip replacement surgery.   Instead, we did the quiet family celebration at my mother’s. With the combo celebration of the holiday and birthday, there was a lot of chocolate. The Boy imitated the Easter Bunny making a home delivery of just about the cutest Easter baskets I had ever seen in my life. Naturally, I had to get them for the kids. My only regret was that I got the last two and I couldn’t buy one for everyone. Can you believe how big they've grown? Wasn't it just last week they looked like this ?   There was presents and cards and bubblewrap. The photos involving the latter were all a blur of popping and play fights, so I’m sticking to the slower ac

Happy Big Birthday, Mor!

I’m a lucky woman for many reasons and one of them is that mor is not just my mother, but my friend, too.   Which is not to say that her friendship has been more important than her mothering. In fact, I think she’s pretty much the perfect mother. Even when I was little, she encouraged me to think for myself and to be part of decisions as much as possible. I may not have always gotten what I wanted, but my opinion was always considered. This was really important as a child growing up with a chronic illness — a situation where a lot of control is taken away from you. I don’t think she originally emphasized independence because of my RA, but I’m sure that enhanced her approach to parenting. My mother has always been a very independent person herself, approaching life with curiosity and no fear and encouraging Janne and myself to do the same. I grew up hearing stories of her childhood and her adventures. One of the quintessential mor stories is that time she climbed a radio