Giving Thanks #8 – Cowlicks

Norah has more hair every day — and every day her cowlick gets bigger. And cuter. Even after a bath and a brush it stands tall. Cutest thing ever.

And, for good measure, a picture that shows that Norah has a good sense of humor — why else would she make that face when we took the picture?

And, since we just had a civic election, I’ll include this pic. Look how wise Norah is! She will use this when she runs for class president at pre-school. I’m already working on her campaign slogans, but not much that is relevant to toddlers rhymes with Norah. Plethora? Fedora? Hmmm…

 

Giving Thanks #6

Norah slept through the night on Saturday night. She didn’t wake at all. This in itself is cause for celebration. But wait, there’s more…

Monday afternoon, when I got home from work, I was holding Norah in the kitchen, watching as Brenda started making supper. I was taking advantage of some stolen cuddle time, kissing her face as she watched her mom. She then turned to me, and said, clear as day, “Dad.” Not “dadadadada” but “Dad.” DAD. What an amazing girl. My heart melted.

The next morning, I changed her diaper, and told her I was going to pick her up. As I took her and started to leave her room, she looked at me and said “up.” Clear as day. Up. Two new words in two days.

“Up,” added to “Dad” from the day before, and “Mom” from last week, brings Norah’s vocabulary up to three words. “Mom” is by far her favourite word – so far she has used it to mean “I want Mom to come feed me” or “Mom, why are you doing this to me?” or “There’s my Mom!” 

How grateful I am that Norah has come into my life!

Giving Thanks #5

I dreamt about my dad the other night. I had been waiting to dream about him. Wanting to dream about him. Wanting to feel connected to him again. Wanting to talk to him again. Afraid I’d never dream of him. Never see him.

It was bittersweet seeing him. I was at the farm, and he was sitting across from me at the kitchen table at the farm and looked happy. We didn’t talk, and I didn’t want him to go away, so I was hesitant to look at him. When I did look, he smiled at me. I reached out and touched his arm, and could feel it. Then I woke up. I was so happy when I first woke up, but now as I think of the brief connection it makes me sad.

It still feels like he can’t really be gone.

I am very slowly working at finishing the basement and I have so many “I’ll have to ask Dad about…” moments. He was such a big part of my life, all my life, even when I was half-way around the world. I remember our calls on skype from Cambodia, the long lag doing nothing to slow down the pace of the conversation. He was my stability, my safety, my everything-else-fails-we-move-to-the-farm backup plan. And it’s hard to believe that he is gone.

Giving Thanks #4

Norah’s sleep has been a cause of serious stress since she was born. From weeks 3 to 12, the only place she would sleep at night was on my chest. Any attempt to put her down would result in instant waking, and sustained crying. Luckily, she started to sort things out around the 4 month mark, and has continued to make progress, and then regress, and then make more progress before regressing, then progressing, ever since. As such, I am thankful for every night, like tonight, where I put Norah down in her crib, sleepy but awake, and she rolls on to her side, and goes to sleep without a peep. I savour each night like this, not taking anything for granted, knowing it may all change tomorrow. Thanks for tonight, Norah!

Giving Thanks #3

Today, Norah went in for her 9 month checkup. She is very healthy, and continues to be over the 95th percentile in height and weight. While I am thankful for this, I am also thankful for Tommy Douglas, former Saskatchewan Premier and the father of socialized medicine in Canada. Without Tommy’s wisdom and tenacity, we could find ourselves in the same horrible predicament as the USA. So thanks, Tommy, for allowing us the freedom to take Norah to the doctor whenever we need.

Giving Thanks #2

While at grief counseling today, I mentioned my Grandfather, and how I dealt with his loss when I was sixteen. Part of my healing then involved using creative-non-fiction to record my memories of Grandpa. When she asked about my relationship with Gramps, I described the days of my childhood spent chasing my father and grandfather around the farm, and evenings spent sitting on one of their laps, perusing flyers from the mail. My couselor made an observation that, though it seemed obvious after she said it, I hadn’t ever verbalized. I was lucky to have two affectionate, kind, gentle men for role models. Men who knew how to make you feel special. Men who knew how to tease and tickle. Men who knew how to laugh. Men who knew the importance of a hug. The gift of being able to grow up with these two remarkable men is one I took for granted. Up until today.