Those of you lucky enough to have offspring know exactly which one I am talking about. I’m pretty sure that once upon a time I read a book by James Dobson titled ‘Parenting isn’t for Cowards”. At the time I thought, yes, it IS tricky but its not all that bad. That was back when my kids thought I pretty much knew everything and could fix everything broken and solve every problem and I began to believe that, very possibly, I could.

But Im getting ahead of myself. Was my deepest secret ambition in life to be an astronaught, a doctor, an interior designer or to fall in love and marry my knight in shining armor (ah I crack myself up but more on that later) and to proceed to have a family? Indeed it was the latter. Well I thought I had married the man of my daydreams but lets face it, marriage is pretty hard too. It was a rude awakening for my husband the day he realized I wasn’t a princess either. But as I stated, another story for another day. We waited a safe and well planned 6 years before we decided it was time for children. I feel guilty telling you that the moment we discussed “do you think we should starting having kids”, I walked away from that conversation pregnant and by the time the doctor declared I was indeed ‘with child’ I had already gained 10 pounds. And so it went.

We as women get the most hallowed honor and privilege to grow a child inside of us. We are connected to these children in the most profound way. A mysterious way. Only God could have created the conception, pregnancy and birthing scenario. It really is most amazing if you stop and think about it. It requires two people to create another miracle with a beating heart, two insightful eyes, ten tiny little fingers, ten whimsical little toes, and a life giving umbilical cord. But only one carries it and so, we mothers, live our lives for 9 months with this amazing miracle growing inside us. We are bonding and caring for this wee life from the moment we find out. Its just amazing to me that another life can grow inside another human being. We eagerly await the day of arrival. We can’t wait to find out what this baby will look like and what his character will be. We can’t wait to rock that baby and cuddle her in our arms instead of our womb and nobody tells you about that incredible baby smell that will intoxicate you. Im not talking about the one coming from down under, I’m  talking about the one that makes you want to rub your nose on their head and kiss them to pieces. You bring your bubbling bundle of joy home and begin to love side by side.

I was determined to be the ultimate best mother ever. I mean nobody starts out with the goal of being a bad mother, do they? I was going to raise these kids right. I would make sure they were snug as a bug in a rug safe. I would make sure that they never went without any of the necessities of life. I would make sure that they were well fed and well dressed and had the best education we could give them. I know he/she is only one week old but you think about these things. Right from the get go, I knew I wanted to be available to tuck my kids in each night and pray with them. I wanted to bake them cookies when they came home from school. I want to build them Lego towers and share the same Disney movie with them 57 times in a row. I wanted to take them to the zoo and Toys-r-us. Im not sure who enjoyed Toys-r-Us more, them or me. I wanted to make memories and traditions out of every holiday and birthday. I was intentional about my family goals and especially my kids goals. We took them camping and stuffed them full of smores and pancakes. We put them swimming lessons until they grew fins. Baseball – you bet. Figure skating – living vicariously. Ballet just so I could say my child was in the Nutcracker. Irish Dancing because I loved RiverDance. I invented a new way to find Easter eggs every single Easter. Fill their stocking at Christmas with glorious treasures. Baked them heart shaped cookies, cakes and pizza for Valentines. Canada Day jello. I was intentional about piano lessons and practicing. I knew that even if they did not evolve into famous maestros the music would enrich their lives.

I read to them and sang to them and rocked them as babies. Naturally I taught them to walk and to talk and to eat with utensils. I potty trained one and the other one trained themselves. I made sure they got the proper medical attention when needed. I was their barber and hairstylist. I sewed clothes for them. I had heaps of fun designing and sewing beautiful chintz dresses for my little girl. I was an accomplice to many amazing science projects. Most often the favorite part of the day was to tuck them into bed and pray with them. If I didn’t pray they would call me on it. Sometimes I did forget, because frankly, even though I wanted to be the perfect mother, I wasn’t always. True confessions, on a few occasions I just quickly sang them this little ditty from Sesame Street…Sweetums lay your ugly head, down up on your wretched bed, close your eyes and go to sleep and don’t get up you ugly creep…and rushed off to do the dishes, the laundry, the vacuuming…the crying.

As I reflect on everything I did and didn’t do as a mother, it occurs to me my motivation for almost every loving service I provided to them was ‘safety’. Their safety. And when I think about it now that they are grown that is still my ultimate motivator. My kids safety and their growth. I firmly believed that it was my duty and blessing to keep them safe and to make sure they felt loved. Truly loved. I poured myself into this endeavor with my whole being until I had drained myself dry and then I squeezed out a couple drops more.

Its interesting to realize that safety and growth are not actually synonymous.
(To be continued)

 

Well I am home now but the memories and times I shared in Vegas with Mom and my sisters will live on in infamy for sure. The Calgary stampede is advertised as the most fun you can have with your boots on. I’ve actually not found the stampede to be all that fun, truth be told. Jeans and cowboy boots are not my favorite thing to wear when its 25 degrees out although I usually do play along a bit. Country music is an oxymoron in my humble opinion (which isn’t actually all that humble) and a parade consisting mainly of horse poop doesn’t thrill me at all.

But Las Vegas with my three sisters? Now that’s my idea of a good time. I was not aware of that until we all connected in my room at Treasure Island late Sunday night. It took some time for the reality to sink in as we are literally spread across the globe. It was an amazing fait accompli.

A dining experience that I had not previously mentioned was our dinner at Giada’s restaurant at The Cromwell. We feasted on antipasto charcuterie platters, marguerita flatbread, ravioli, salmon and roasted Brussels sprouts, crispy capers and warm focaccia buns. A party for the palate as well as emotions.

We gasped and awed our way through Cirque de Soliels LOVE (set to a mash-up of 200 Beatles songs with 30 full songs on the soundtrack). Apparently there were three speakers in each seat so we would hear every word and note of music. No wonder the performance got under our skin. The theatre is the most technologically advanced theatre anywhere and because the theatre is set in the round there in not a bad seat in the house. It took our breath away.

Lexie took it upon herself to find us an affordable pedicure venue -Las Vegas Nails. Seriously? How original. The hotel spas wanted our first born in exchange for shellac, massage, wax treatment and scaling. We had to walk a couple of miles in the sweltering heat to get there but we had more time than money and Natalie had the brilliant idea (she has a degree and I don’t) of walking back through the air conditioned hotels. I guess that didn’t occur to us on the way there as we were in a bit of a rush to meet our appointment time. (It’s tricky coordinating six women with different ideas of what they want to do and where they want to be).  But we all finally had pool worthy toes for the remainder of the trip.

As luck would have it, the Cake Boss restaurant of TV fame was right across the street from our hotel so we picked up some birthday sweets and treats to pair with our complimentary champagne the hotel offered for moms 85th and had ourselves a party. Let’s face it, the whole week was one ginormous party.

Then there was the accidental photobombing flashing incident in the pool and thats all I’m going to say about that. The Nelson women’s Vegas – the most fun you can have without being inebriated.

In the wee small hours of the morning when the whole wide world is fast asleep I tip toe through the shadows into my comfy chair to take a load off my feet and reflect on the remains of the day. Often when I slide into my chair I realize I have not stopped moving and standing all day and it just feels so darn good to sit down and sink into the chairs arms… thus the term ‘armchair’. And if you’re lucky enough to have a chair with arms that hug you, then you’re in heaven. Every muscle in my body was aching and I didn’t even know it. It’s been nonstop GO for the entire day. There is still more to do but I will have to leave that for another day as I don’t think I can move another inch. At this point even getting myself upstairs to bed is going to be a chore. Thus I linger just a while longer.

There is something private and deeply satisfying about being up while others are sound asleep in the same house. Something about snuggling into my comfy cozy chair by the fire when all is quiet and still with just enough illumination for me to sit and write. There is a peace and a clarity that helps me sort out issues that I can’t even focus on in the hustle and bustle of the day. I can hear the furnace air blowing sporadically , I have a load of laundry in that spins rythmically in the background and now it’s raining. Sounds of the rain pelting the deck- so soothing. Reminiscent of waves crashing the shore in the warm Kona night. I surrender to the nighttime as I pull my legs up on the chair under me to make myself small and unobtrusive.

As I study the flames from the fireplace flickering and dancing on the wall it occurs to me there is no other place I would rather be, in the home I share (on this particular night with my two kids and husband.) This is a rare occasion these days so I hold it close and cherish it. I know I shouldn’t be up compromising my immune system and making myself vulnerable to illness. But deep in the dark grey shadows are voices that urge me to stay, so I pause and I wait and I listen, for one more word, for one more lovely thing that the night might say.

0k already… I’m going to bed.

 

My sister Natalie and I were the only ones amongst us that had been to Las Vegas before. Calling it Las Vegas conjures up different images than the nickname ‘Vegas’ does. We showed our mom and sisters the Walt Disney Las Vegas as opposed to the CSI Vegas. The Las Vegas of Sammy Davis junior, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. Not the Vegas of the ‘Hangover’ movie. We mostly stayed above ground and marveled at the magnificent manmade wonders and replicas of significant architecture and monuments from around the world. I mean, where else can you travel and take in the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, the pyramids of Egypt, the canals and gondoliers of Venice and the flower gardens of Japan all in one stop?

And the Grand Canyon. Let’s not forget the Grand Canyon made by the creator of the universe. Nothing fake about that.

We enjoyed culinary delicacies from some of the best restaurants and chefs thanks to Natalie who entertains clients in Las Vegas frequently. We shopped at the coolest (I’m talking temperature) and most upscale shopping venues. Then there was the decadence of staying at a resort hotel as we gathered around the pool area each day for 3-4 hours. This is where memories were made.

Flowers out of a vending machine? Only in Vegas. 24 hour Starbucks? Only in Vegas. $18USD pool drinks? Only in Vegas. 37 degrees on May 5? Only in Vegas. Water dancing 460 feet in the air to music? Only in Vegas.

But what was, in actuality, more amazing than these was the fact that all four of Ruth’s daughters (and one granddaughter) converged upon this marvel of man to celebrate and honour a special woman. Our mother. One from New Zealand, two from Toronto and three from Calgary. I’m convinced that this was a once in a lifetime event. Each daughter/sister set aside their daily routine and responsibilities and wholeheartedly jumped at the opportunity to honour mom this way on her 85th birthday. Sacrifices of time and finance became secondary to the common goal. Little did we know that in meeting together in Las Vegas not only would we bless our mother but we would renew the sisterhood. (Not of the travelling pants because there is absolutely no way one pair of pants would have fit each of us). But rather, we had an opportunity to experience each other as we are now. We are different women than the girls we knew as we were growing up in our parents home. Life’s experiences have molded and shaped us in ways we could never have predicted and it was a joy to connect with the glamourous, sophisticated and resilient women my sisters have evolved into.

Viva the Sisterhood.

Another sweltering day, another Vegas adventure. Starbucks, sizzle by the pool from 10:00 to 2:00, more Starbucks, chats in the pool, taking turns cooling off so someone could act as security guard for our stuff. We had to take gold bricks down to the pool to purchase drinks with. After we’d had enough sun for the day we all landed in on Zara at the Fashion show mall. Zara didn’t know what hit them as all six of us tried on most of the items in the store. Some of us even bought things and exchanged them before we left the store. Then off to Charming Charlie’s.

The plan was to have supper at Gordon Ramsey’s ‘burger’ restaurant with all the flames between the windows (which we did). So we piled into two cabs and set out towards Planet Hollywood. Naturally we ordered burgers AND truffle parmesan French fries. I’m wrecked for all other French fries and that’s got to be the most melty in your mouth hamburger I’ve ever had. We followed this up with a trip to the Chandelier bar across the street. After we’d had our fill of crystals and exotic drinks we moved the party over to the fountains of Bellagio for our final enjoyment.

Natalie and Melanie took mom back to the hotel in a cab and Lexie, Jacqui and I decided to walk back. True to form,  Jacqui had us in stitches in no time. We passed a tall blond in stilettos and a VERY short dress (she had to keep one hand on her hem and the other hanging onto to her guy for dear life) and  Jacqui says (to us really) ‘hey girlie, I hate to tell you this buts that’s not a dress, it’s a shirt’ and jacqui goes even further and says ‘ you should watch these girls when they drop a $100 bill, their skirt is too short and tight  to bend over so they say ‘nevermind  about it- I’ll get another one somewhere.’ We were wondering why the guys these girls were clinging to,  got to wear runners, jeans and a tshirt while the girls had to wear the highest heals, the shortest skirts, the tightest clothes and the lowest necklines. Somehow it didn’t seem fair. Did I mention the cobblestone sidewalks?

While we were on the topic of uncomfortable clothes,  Jacqui started telling us about the last marathon she and her son, A.J., ran in. There was a gal in front of them with a cellphone in her skort pocket and the cellphone was so heavy it weighed her skort down enough to expose her assets and she had to keep doing this little hop jump move to pull her skort back up…. Jacqui was demo-ing this as we walked down Las Vegas Blvd. I was laughing so hard I had to sheild my eyes with my newly purchased Hell’s Kitchen cookbook or I’d have had an embarrassing accident. I’m sure people were wondering what we were smoking and where could they get some. Then she told us about the lady that came in second in the marathon. Apparently she was so desperate to win (big monetary prizes) that she could not interrupt her run to go to the lavatory and was covered from head to toe with her own …. well, as A.J. put it, she really did come in No. 2. By this time I was almost rolling on the ground….

Laughing is so good for the soul and Jacqui has always been able to make us laugh til we cry or wet ourselves or both. It was well after midnight and the strip was still busy and well populated but no one paid any attention to our antics and cavorting. I felt 18 again. It was invigorating. Thanks for the memories Jacqui.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Not anymore. Because this happened and I’m going to tell you about it. Mom, two of my sisters and a old dear family friend joined us on this trip and they all headed out for the Grand Canyon this morning by way of the Hoover Dam. Surprisingly there were a few of us that chose to stay in the city so we could melt faster than a crayon by the hotel pool in the 31 degree heat.

Anyhow. Lexie and I had planned to avail ourselves of the fitness facilities at Treasure Island but as we stretched and yawned our way out of bed Lexie had a brain wave and suggested we order room service instead of working out. I had my credit card out in 3 seconds flat. Lexie proceeded to order a stack of pancakes with sides for her and eggs benedict for moi. I thought I’d shower while we were waiting. It was so decadent as we sat on the bed and ate our fill of breakfast food prepared by someone else as we watched morning TV (King of Queens and Everybody loves Raymond – did you know they used to be on the same show?). I call my other sister,  that also passed on the Grand Canyon, to ask her to join us but… no answer. We don’t hear from her for a bit so I eat my last Benedict reasoning that by the time I hear from her it will be too cold for either of us to eat. Naturally, after I swallowed the last bite I hear a knock on the door. It’s Natalie and clearly she is famished as she eats Lexie’s last pancake, sausage and egg. Lexie decides to go out and take in one of the attractions she had planned on … taking in. Immediately after she left Natalie and I decide to move the room service cart into the hallway for pick up. We are having difficulty getting it through the door and Natalie realizes we need to fold down the one side so she is fumbling under the table cloth for the knob, she finally finds it and the table end folds and accelerates the pace of the cart through the door so we got momentarily distracted and excited and I let the room door shut. As I heard the click I realize I’m standing in the hallway wearing my flimsy nightshirt, barefooted and my key card, phone and ID are safely inside the room. I tried to remember how many movies I’d seen with this similar dilemma. I guess writers don’t really just make this stuff up. Natalie texts Lexie to come back but it could be a couple of hours before she sees the text since she is probably making her way through Madame Tussauds wax museum by now.

Natalie being the calm wise younger sister takes me back to her room and phones the front desk, explains the situation and asks what they can do. We already know we can’t get another key card without ID. They are sending up security.

Thankfully Natalie had a room as well or I would have had no choice but to walk down to the front desk in my jammie’s and barefeet and wait in line while being mocked and judged by other guests as they assumed I’d been on an all night bender or lost my clothes and room at the craps table. I had absolutely no proof I was guest at this hotel.