christmas is here


nesting santas

‘Tis the season, my friends. We are at it again, celebrating December in all its glory, with no holds barred. Our family tradition is to celebrate all month long, (you can read about it here and here) to bring wonder and magic into the life of our sweet boy. It’s about spreading the joy over as many days as we can, to really immerse ourselves in the spirit of Christmas. For us, it’s about making every day special, and not just the 25th. In our home, the 25th becomes just another day of magic, not THE day of magic.

This year, I wasn’t sure how things would play out. Isaac is on the cusp of 9 1/2 and as such, I didn’t think certain aspects of our celebration would appeal to him. Perhaps he’s getting too old for the envelopes, or the way our house transitions from a regular ol’ house, to a holiday wonderland overnight while he sleeps. But no. And for that I am so grateful. He said to me, during the afternoon of the 30th (November), “I’m so excited for tomorrow.”  “Why is that?” I asked?  “Because I get my first envelope tomorrow. It’s December.  Christmas starts tomorrow.”  Oh, he was so ready and not even being NINE could dampen his excitement.


isaac and father christmas

So we began.  In years past, Fred and I have decorated the house for Isaac while he slept, so that when he awoke on the morning of December 1st, the house had been transformed. This year, he wanted to help. So we brought up our decorations and slowly put things out and around the house. He was quick to tackle his seasonal/art table, removing all the papers and pencils that littered it, and replacing them with snow and woodland creatures, and Father Christmas. Oh my heart. The pride in his face, he was helping, becoming part of the MAKING of magic, not just experiencing it. That is a huge step, indeed.

On December 1st Isaac awoke to his first envelope. Inside, it read, “decorate Cider while listening to Christmas carols and drinking hot chocolate…and go out for dinner…”

Firstly, Cider.

Every year Isaac names our tree. This started way back when and he adores this tradition. Normally he’s with us when we get our tree from the Christmas Tree Village, but this year he had theatre rehearsal and we are going into the Village later than normal, so, Fred and I got it ourselves. However,  he demanded to still be allowed to name it. But, of course. After going through some other names, mostly just silliness to get a laugh, he declared, “Cider.” And I loved it instantly. He has a gift. <3


not that this kid needs more light, he shines it everywhere he goes, but I do LOVE this picture. and the wee heart on his shoulder – hearts follow him everywhere. <3

We spent all day Tuesday stringing 800 lights on Cider, and then decking him out in every bauble and ornament that we posses. In years past, Isaac hasn’t lasted more than a couple ornaments before he was off doing something else. This year, however, he was Elfie, my head of of Christmas security and top notch helper. He stayed until every last trinket was adorning the tree. And apart from the lights, truthfully, he did most of it himself. He was pretty darn excited to, again, be part of the making of magic, and not just enjoying it from the sidelines. I loved this so much.


birds at christmas :: one of my favourite things

Tuesday night we were out at his theatre company’s release of their spring season. SO many great shows coming up and he gets his casting package in the next week or two. He can HARDLY wait. His secret wish is to be in Willy Wonka, which he has been in love with for YEARS. I’m pretty sure that would make his first year in main cast just about the best thing ever. I have, however, told him not to get his hopes up as there are over 300 kids in the company, and a dozen or so shows. Whatever show he gets, I know he’ll love it.

December 2nd – Second day of Christmas

Yesterday, I forgot to put out his envelope. How’s that for failing on day two of Christmas? Oi. I was SO tired from such a long day that I got all the stuff out, set it on the table and then forgot about it and went to bed. My poor boy. He’s understanding but I know he was disappointed. I explained, even elves make mistakes. It doesn’t make the magic any less real, or intended, it’s just that sometimes, even elves get overtaken by fatigue or other things, and they forget. I apologized and we moved on. When he finally did open the envelope, it read, “…shopping for the London Food Bank…helping those in need and sharing our abundance in the spirit of Christmas…”  This is a tradition that he loves so much, being in charge of the shopping, thoughtfully crossing things off his list. It’s a big responsibility and one he carries with pride.


a favourite from years ago…

After a busy morning of homeschool theatre, tea with friends (while Isaac  spontaneously worked (helped out) for an hour and a half in the cafe, making $7 in tips), we headed to the grocery to stock up our cart for the Food Bank. Armed with his list, Isaac made his way up and down the aisles, gathering what was needed (and a few things for himself, as well, lol). I was shocked at the increase in food prices. We don’t buy canned fruit or veggies, so I had no idea that these things have almost doubled in the last year. Goodness, no wonder more and more people are using the food bank than every before. But that’s another post. We gathered our food, and headed home. Isaac decided we should deliver it another day, as he was getting tired (and today, we realize, it’s because he was coming down with something).


cider :: all decked out for a beautiful season of celebrating

It’s interesting -traditions can change in small and subtle ways, or in big and overwhelming ways. I always fear both, because I’m not a fan of change. But at the same time, change is all we can count on. I believe that if we lay a solid foundation of traditions for our children to grow from, that the change will be minimal. A friend of mine was telling some of us on the weekend how her adult daughter still really looks forward to participating in the decorating of the tree…together. How she can’t really change things up too much because then all her children and extended family are like, “What? No! But you always do it like this!”


reflections :: real and metaphorical – another thing I love about the holidays

Tradition is the rhythm of our souls all the year long, but particularly at Christmastime. It is comforting and reassuring and feels like home. Children grow, families change, people come and go, but the foundation of our established traditions, remains. They shift and morph here and there, but that’s what keeps the magic alive. So whilst things at our house changed slightly this year, I choose to see it as the beginning of a new tradition, with Isaac more involved, instead of a slight to the way things were. Truthfully, I loved his help and companionship as we decorated together. It helped me to appreciate the incredible young man he is growing into, and to bear witness to the beauty of his own human spirit. And really that’s what the tradition of Christmas is all about – sharing ourselves with each other and giving the best of ourselves, no matter how things shift and change. I can totally get behind that.

Happy Holidays,



I look around me and it’s all I see. It’s everywhere. It’s in the smile of a stranger, the laughter of a child, the embrace of an old friend. It’s in the gift of friendship, a late night text from your favourite person, the way your loved ones look into your eyes when they are speaking with you. It’s in the sweet snuggles of your children, their kisses, buried in your neck. It’s in their wondrous stories, the ones they make up just for you. And it’s in your heart, bursting at the seams when you steal a glance at them, Being exactly who they were meant to Be.


It’s not complicated. It’s the only thing that isn’t. When we break it down, Love just Is. It’s our natural state of Being.


hearts follow him everywhere he goes


Now fear, that’s complicated. It’s bitter and ugly and hostile and violent and angry and scary and mistrustful and sends us running from the only thing that really matters. Love.

When we attempt to dissect fear, we will find that there is a lot more going on under the surface. There is insecurity, uncertainty, paranoia, outdated beliefs, perhaps influences from others that tarnish our own inner knowing. There is misinformation, a closed mind, a lack of knowledge. All these things, and more, will without doubt lead to fear. Fear makes us small.

So how do we stand in Love, instead of running from fear?  That’s not complicated either – we just choose Love. Stand in it. Be it. Spread it. Live it. Feel it with everything in you. Turn off your TVs and radios leaving the fear-based media frenzy behind. Instead, grab your kids, loved one(s) and head outside to nature. Say hi to a stranger you encounter on your walk. They might give you a strange look at first (if this isn’t common in your neck of the woods), but wishing them a good day will most certainly warm their hearts. Take a handful of nuts to the park to feed the squirrels – such a wonderful way for children to see love in action. Pay for a stranger’s coffee, leave a note on someone’s windshield, pick up garbage, make eye contact, donate gently used books to your local library, make cookies for a neighbour, visit an retirement home, play with your kids (something they love, and allow yourself to get REALLY involved).


all you need is love

There are a million ways you can spread love. Each one ripples out into your community and beyond, and has such a positive effect. Being Love is easy. Give people the benefit of the doubt. It is our innate nature as humans to be Good. Yep, you are going to be let down, it happens, but don’t let that fear be your compass. Focus on the good and don’t let anyone run the Love out of you.

A bunch of years ago, we were struggling with a neighbour of ours. They had an outbuilding that was falling apart and it sat on the property line and posed a great risk to, my then, tiny boy. We had talked about it on and off but they didn’t really see it as an issue. I should have been more persistent. I wasn’t. I called the city and filed a complaint. While complaints such as these are anonymous, our neighbours knew perfectly well it was us. And so, they stopped talking to us. No more good mornings, no more friendly smiles. They were indeed angry. Looking back, I don’t blame them. I handled it poorly.

I became uncomfortable, didn’t like being outside when they were there. it was awkward. Fred, my deeply loving husband, refused to let it get him down. He continued to greet them every morning. “Good morning,” he’d say, in an almost sing-songy voice. Every. Single. Day. In the beginning, he got nothing back. Eventually, he got grunts. Then, muttered salutations. And finally, they were smiling and wishing us good morning before we could open our mouths.




When you stand in Love, people will not be able to reject it. They might try, in the beginning, as being shown love can make us uncomfortable for many reasons. But if we genuinely Love, and share that with people, day after day, it breaks down the hard exteriors and eventually, the Love reaches their heart and transformation occurs.

I have no room for fear in my heart. I truly believe we all want to feel connected to one another. Fear creates division and an “us against them” mentality, which makes it easier to look the other way when people are suffering. Love is inclusive. It is a “we are all One” mentality and makes us long to help those less fortunate than us, to make a difference in our community, to stand in Love.

Martin Luther King Jr said, “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.” I’ve seen first hand how this is true and I think about how if each of us can stand in Love instead of running in fear, our world will be transformed. I refuse to run from fear, but will always stand in Love.



dragonfly bridge

dragonfly bridge

We were a little reclusive this summer. We tended towards hibernation, except for a few small things like our favourite music festival, the fair, and summer camp. Other than that, you could mostly find us tucked inside the house just doing our own thing. Part of this was Isaac’s irrational  (but, of course, very Real) fear of wasps. Oi! Getting that boy from the house to the car, which, by the way, is all of maybe 7 feet) was like a scene from a horror movie where every “monster” imaginable was trying to attack him. It wore me down. We did develop some strategies for coping better, like, I would make sure the car was unlocked so all he had to do was run like a madman to the car to avoid the swarm of wasps that were always about to sting him. .__. We also compromised in such a way that had me practically carrying him to the car (did I mention he’s 9?) so that he felt safe. Sometimes he took a squirt bottle with him (not my first choice, but it made him feel in control). And there were others. At the end of the day, these strategies got us out of the house when absolutely necessary, but if we didn’t HAVE to be somewhere, we usually stayed home.

Fast forward many months and I had a bit of a break down. I’ve been feeling claustrophobic. Hmm, like I’m scrunched up inside a box and the box keeps getting smaller and smaller and yet there’s nowhere for me to expand. I’ve been feeling like I am going to explode, or implode. Not sure which one, maybe both, if I didn’t GET. OUT. SIDE.

the most beautiful day in the world

the most beautiful day in the world

Isaac apologized. He very much felt the burden of my current dilemma as one that is his fault. In part, but not entirely. I could have walked after Fred was home. I could have made time to get out on my own, and I did, but just in the backyard, tending to the garden. But what my soul longed for was wide open spaces. Trees. Nature on all sides of me. The sound of crickets and frogs and birds and squirrels. Fresh air. Water. Sun on my face. Nature has been calling to me and it was time for me to go.

So, both Monday and Tuesday, with 20’C + weather, we got outside. Also, there were no wasps. That helped. First, to Westminster Ponds – our very favourite place in all of London to hike. It was just the two of us and we started at our favourite spot, knowing that the hike would be about an hour-ish. AWWWW! It was so gorgeous to get out and feel the crisp leaves under foot, to chase my munchkin through the trees and over bridges, to pause for a snack, to pretend we were on an adventure. And of course, we were. We gathered nature stuff – acorns, milkweed pods, a gazillion leaves (no exaggeration). It was glorious.

walking his own path

walking his own path

On Tuesday we were fortunate to have a friend join us. Like me, Isaac thrives on companionship and so to have a sweet friend along was lovely for both of us. This time we went to The Coves, which is only a few blocks from our house. We walked over and hiked for a good hour. Isaac decided he’d like to give names to different places, kind of like landmarks. He had a blast with that as my friend and I attempted to catch up. HA! Never much catching up when Isaac is around. He MUST be the centre of all attention, one hundred percent of the time. Awe, my little Leo. <3

I have to say, today I am feeling much less “compressed inside a box” than I was. I’m feeling like I can take a deep breath now, and my cardboard sides aren’t pushing up against me quite so forcefully. It’s interesting to me – I know how connected to the earth I am, to nature, and that when I neglect that connection, I’m deeply affected, and yet now and then, I let it slide. This time was for the sanity of my sweet boy, but in doing that I neglected me and that does NOT make me a better parent. He and I have chatted about this and he gets it. I think we are on the same page, now.

connecting with friends

connecting with friends

So, here’s too connecting with nature, with the seasons, to our soul’s longing, to the needs of our children, to making things work when it seems there is no way, to being with friends, to knowing ourselves. Here’s to life, and to living it in exactly the way that makes our heart smile. <3


honouring one’s truth


even the seasons bear their truth

For as long as I can remember, my Truth has stirred inside of me, making its presence known. A calling, really. I have memories, early childhood memories, of this aching deep inside, something that needed expression, to be explored, to be lived. A calling home.
When I was wee, I remember being scolded for doing something, and while I shuddered under the shame and guilt of not meeting someone’s approval, I also silently cried for joy, knowing that, while not “acceptable” behaviour (what the hell is that, anyway?), it was my Truth and I knew that no one could take that away from me.

I have another memory – one of riding in the car with some family members. They were discussing (gossiping, really) about someone we all knew, about how this person raised her child, in such a different way than what was normally done back then. It was “permissive parenting,” the kid needed a “smack, not a reasoning session.” (Um, it’s called attachment parenting, people.) As they slowly tore this person down I remember thinking, “I think she’s really cool.” Hmm, I was a kid, what did I know? And then I went on about something, chatting away as I always did (and often, still do) and these family members turned to me and said, “Oh, you are JUST like, so-and-so.”

Now, I wonder if it’s because I was only a child (albeit, a young teen), that they weren’t much paying attention to what they had just done. On one hand, condemning someone for choices they make regarding how they live their lives, and on the other, telling me I was just like that person. Hmm. And I remember sitting there thinking, “Did you really just do that?”  I’m pretty sure they were completely unaware as to what they had just done. But it was not lost on me. And yet despite being grouped in with someone whose behaviours and life choices were not met with approval, I was silently dancing inside. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did a little fist pump in the back seat because the categorization told me I was on the right path. My Truth. I was singing from the top of my heart’s mountain.

Over the years there have been plenty of times where that truth has been challenged – taking jobs I knew I’d hate, staying in relationships long past their expiration date, heeding advice that I knew was not in my best interest. In the end though, Truth always made itself known. She would scream at me until I couldn’t sleep at night. She would make me sick, and then sicker, until I thought I was dying. She would weigh me down to the point that I had no choice BUT to give in and listen to her. And you know what? I’m glad she was so stubborn, because as soon as you turn around and say goodbye to all that is not serving you and, once again, embrace your Truth, you begin to thrive. And I don’t just mean, survive. I mean, THRIVE. Doors open up, things fall into place, the universe says, “Finally!!! Took you long enough.”

Nowadays, there is very little that can deter me from my Truth. I feel as though it is my utmost responsibility to honour it for everything it has to teach me. It is why we are here, to honour our Truth. To Be who we are supposed to Be.   And I say this not just for myself – but for my child, too. There is so much I want for him, more than anything it is for him to be true to who he is. Never will he catch me telling him, “Meh, that’s not a great career choice” or, “why would you wear that?” or, “what purpose will that serve?” or, or, or. His truth is his own and it lies outside of the confines of any box. If he learns anything, I hope it’s this: that he can be anything, do anything, love anyone, live anywhere, accomplish anything, fight for anything – and that as long as it’s his Truth, then it’s exactly what he’s meant to be doing. That, as long as he’s honouring his Truth, he’ll be honouring himself. And that, in a world full of chaos, is the greatest gift we can give ourselves.


just let go

September's  Blood Moon

September’s Blood Moon

If there is one thing most people can agree on, it’s that human beings don’t like change. Change is uncomfortable, it’s scary, it requires entering into unknown territory. And often, it hurts. When faced with change, many of us are quick to throw a rope around the thing that is changing, and cling to it for dear life, as if that will bring a halt to the change. It won’t. What will happen, however, is that the change will slowly wear us down, begin to devour us, even kill us. We can attempt to fight change as long and as hard as we want, but what is meant to change is going to change, whether we are accepting of it, or not.

So the question is, why do we hold on to what we know we should release? For the last year and a half I have been holding on so tightly to something that needed to be released. But I didn’t know how to let go. The thought of letting go was so painful I thought I’d die. Truthfully, I didn’t know who I was in the face of this absence. And so, I held on, tighter and tighter. I hoped that things would change again, in my favour. They didn’t. I hoped that just a slight shift in my mindset and I’d be golden. I wasn’t. I thought that in time, things wouldn’t hurt so much. They still do. And so why the hell would a sane individual hold on to something that causes such pain? (Truthfully, I was starting to question the sanity bit.)  I’m not sure I know. I do know that letting go has to be done only when you are ready. That no one can tell you, “it’s time.”  It’s never time, until you decide. In time, things become clear, your heart strengthens, your mind clears, and that which once seemed so vital to your existence, no longer is. And then, and only then, you long for release. Finally, you ache to let go.

This is not to say it’s easy, simply because you make the choice.  Life is never easy and letting go of what was, be it a job, a relationship, a house or hometown, a community that you have had a hand in building – is heartbreaking. But it can be done and life does go on. Those places that ached so badly you begged for relief in the form of eternal sleep, start to fade. If, like me, you are lucky to have a handful of people whom you can count on for non-judgmental support, unconditional love, day after day after day, then it will be that much less for you to carry on your own. But understand it is still work. And the work is yours to do.

Why do we hold on? Because it is all we know. Because we don’t know who we will be when certain aspects of “us” are released to the ether forever. No one knows. But I can promise you this – it is far better than where you are right now – stuck in an in between world. In between happy and sad, loving and misery, hopeful and defeated, free and anxious, and on and on and on. The universe would not have us arrive at these crossroads only to make a choice that would make us “less than” what we were before. No. You will go on to be larger than life, an expression of your creativity, happier than you ever thought possible. You will be a garden full of your favourite flowers. You will be the gorgeous smell of rain hitting warm cement. You will be the sweet song of the birds chirping outside your window at the crack of dawn. You will be your favourite t-shirt, fresh from the dryer, snug against your body. You will be the smell of wood smoke on a cold December day. Oh, you will be gorgeous. But first, you have to just let go. <3


It is my hope to be here every day this month, to share just a bit of myself. I hope to see you here. xxoo

the beauty in change


home from camp and happy about that

Every year I marvel at how we can possibly be here…again. This year is no exception. Tomorrow my sweetest boy turns nine. I’m in awe of this fact. I’m sure it was only yesterday that I spent all of today at the hospital (not a place I wanted to be, by the way) labouring and bringing my sweet boy into this world. Giving birth is a right of passage, no doubt about it. It changed me in ways I’m sure I haven’t even discovered yet. I know one thing though, my heart grew a trillion times that day. And truthfully, I didn’t know that was possible. I know it ‘s the same old story, but it really is so miraculous to me, that a little person can change your life so profoundly. I simply adore him.

And yet, I am struggling.

ice cream with his second  favourite person in the world ;)

ice cream with his second favourite person in the world ;)

Change and letting go are not things I’m good at. No! I like my routine, my same rhythm, my same rhyme. When something throws that off, I somewhat go to pieces. Raising a child is ALL about letting go. It is forever about change. It’s beautiful AND heartbreaking. Whilst I’ve dealt with it okay up until now, now, at nine, I’m really noticing the changes of him shifting into a more grown up boy. He is insisting on closing the bathroom door now for privacy (WHAT?), and he doesn’t run around naked quite as much as he did only a few months ago. He mentioned the other day, “Mummy, I think I’m getting to old for that” when I suggested something to him. Sigh. My heart is slowly breaking and I know I cannot stop it. So, instead, I must find ways to accept what is inevitable, to embrace the change as it comes, and to support him (and myself) in all that lie ahead.

And while change is hard, I also know the beauty it holds. Watching Isaac grow and change and discover who he is and experience new things, fail and then soar, it’s all breathtakingly beautiful. I am so humbled by his presence in my life, he truly has no idea. Not only is he growing and changing, but I am too. He pushes me to stretch and morph and grow into the person he needs me to be. I humbly accept the challenge, most days not at all feeling qualified, but showing up anyway because it’s what we mamas do. We give all that we have, doing the best that we can in any given moment, and just hoping it’s enough. It is. I know that.

me and my sweet boy

me and my sweet boy

And so, with nine comes a million thoughts swirling around my head. But only one thought really matters. And it’s not so much a thought, really, as a belief. A conviction. And that is, that he is my soulmate. He is my one true love. I would walk to the end of the earth for him, and back again. He is my teacher, my mentor, my greatest gift. In spite of all the hardness that we have encountered (raising him has NOT been easy), he is my breath of fresh air in a world stifled with old beliefs, toxic hangups, and unfamiliar faces. He, is my heart. My centre. My home. He makes my life better, in every single way. I love him.


learning to be a friend

Happy New Year, Friends!

Life has been full and rich and busy and challenging. Time is flying and I have no idea where it’s flying to. How is it that Christmas was already over a month ago? I’ve had another birthday come and go, Isaac just turned 8 1/2, and we’ve had a couple wicked snow storms. I’ve been dyeing lots of yarn and knitting like crazy. We’ve been involved in some wonderful homeschool activities – theatre and yoga, and Isaac started swim lessons 3 weeks ago. He’s already swimming the length of the small pool, underwater, no problem. So exciting to watch. And he’s made a few really great friends in theatre. He is smitten with them and I simply love watching his love for friendship take root and grow.

on his way to yoga

on his way to yoga

Friendship has always been hard for me. I’ve written about this before and as I watch Isaac grow and explore this facet of life, I notice I am pausing to reflect on what makes a friendship work, what draws us to certain people, and how can we help to nurture the friendships in our lives.

me and my favourite friend

me and my favourite friend

As an adult it’s easy enough for me to look back and see clearly why friendships didn’t work. Usually there were just too many differences, things I didn’t recognize at the time. I was just so worried with fitting in that I didn’t see that it wasn’t necessarily me, but instead, a difference in personalities. I am an extreme introvert and when you mix that in with a school and student body primarily made up of extroverts (of at the least, people trying to pass themselves off as such) well, it does not bode well for making long-lasting friendships. I, of course, did have some friends in school, but I always managed to mess them up, or so it seemed. All these years later I have come to realize I’m really not a friend person. I mean, I LOVE the friends I have. I, like Isaac, am smitten with the people I call “friend”. But I don’t let people in easily and I don’t connect easily. As I’ve aged I have noticed something specific: the older I get, the less friends I need. I can probably count on one hand the people who I consider to be real and true friends.Those people who just get you, no matter what, who accept you and all your crazy antics without question. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced what it is to truly have a best friend. I certainly had friends that I considered best friends, but I was never secure in those relationships, fearing that I was always a little too “odd” to make it work. But in the last few years I have had the great pleasure of finally finding a best friend. It’s like coming home! It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced, our ability to talk and laugh and Be. Words can’t describe this experience, but I’m assuming if you have a best friend then you know exactly what I mean.

exercise is important, you know

exercise is important, you know

Today we were out in the Village after our homeschool theatre programme and Isaac was a little morose at having to leave his friends. He was walking with his head down, clearly saddened. We stopped at the cafe for a snack and while I paid he chatted up a mum and her young boy. Well, my kid, the master of making friends and drawing people into his circle, recounted the story of how we rescued our kitty and about the kittens and how Fred thought I was crazy. He’s so at ease with people, talking to them without any fear of what they might think. It helps when he has a receptive audience. He’s a very good judge of character and so when the audience isn’t so receptive, he knows to walk away. So at the end of his story, we had made a new friend. Turned out our paths had crossed via social media, only we never knew it. If not for him, I’d have just bought my scone and walked out. He’s good for me. :D

giving his friend Amanda a lesson in algebra

giving his friend Amanda a lesson in algebra

All this leads to what I’m trying to say, which is this: I’m so hoping for a different friendship experience for Isaac. That he’s not in school, I’m sure, helps. Not having to try to fit in and win the affections of people he really doesn’t care about, is a gift. He and all the “wacky” (read: AMAZING) homeschoolers get to be themselves, and they love each other for it. He gets to find his tribe in his early youth, instead of having to wait until his late 30’s. He, hopefully, gets to spend a lifetime with a friend to call his own, always. And while we never know if a friend will stay with us for life, I hope at the very least he is learning to be himself with those he chooses and to not get hung up when people opt not to spend time in his company because it’s more about them than about us. And, I hope that he comes to recognise that there is a person out there for each of us, someone who gets us and loves us and wants to call us friend, no matter how long it takes to find them. I fear I’ve gotten a little sappy here, (hello, it’s what I do. ;) ).

 celebrating 8 1/2

celebrating 8 1/2

While I know I will always struggle with friendships I take solace in that fact that I have an amazing kid who models how it’s done. I will never be able to sit down next to a stranger and strike up a conversation the way he can, but I can learn from him that we don’t need to be afraid to put ourselves out there, that sometimes that is what is required to find a good friend. And I hope I can impart to him that, while friends are important, even vital, it’s not an easy road for some. Being true to oneself is where it starts, the friends will follow.




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