Tag Archives: children

Happy Birthday Kyle!

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Happy Birthday Kyle!

Today is Sunday, November 23, 2025. But I’m thinking back to this date a few years ago, actually a few decades ago. Sunday November 23, 1980. Grey Cup Day in Canada. But for me it was Labor Day.

That’s right. Forty-five years ago today I spent the day in a labor and delivery room. The hospital where I delivered my first baby had not yet embraced the concept of birthing rooms. I recall a starkly furnished and sterile room with bright lights. The only calming thing about it was that I had an amazing doctor who stayed with me the entire time, encouraging me as the nurses’ shifts constantly changed. My husband was glued to the TV in the lounge watching the football game although periodically he came to check on me. Once the game ended he had more of a presence in the labor and delivery room but in all honesty wasn’t the greatest labor coach. He did much better when my daughter was born.

My son finally decided to enter the world on Monday November 24th. My due date was November 26th and I was grateful that he came early, even if only by two days. If you’ve ever been pregnant, you know how anxious you are to have that baby come out when you’ve gone full term. Kyle was also born on the day of my parents’ wedding anniversary, although my dad had passed away years before. Now we had something new to celebrate on that date.

Hard to believe you’re turning 45 tomorrow. It seems like just yesterday you were born.

Happy Birthday Kyle!

Happy Anniversary To My Gold Medalist!

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Happy Anniversary To My Gold Medalist!

Ten years ago I was in the Dominican Republic with my daughter when she got married. She is celebrating her 10th anniversary today in Panama. She gets around.

I was glued to my computer screen the other night watching her compete in The North American Powerlifting Federation Regional Bench Press Championships in Panama City. It was exciting to watch online but I really wish I could have been there in person. Breaking three records, she now returns to Canada with a gold medal. It was amazing to see her up there on the podium accepting her award.

Felicidades Kimmy! I love you and I am so incredibly proud of you!

Thicker Than Smoke

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Thicker Than Smoke

It rained this morning. It’s a cloudy day. Smoke has rolled in from the wildfires surrounding East Wenatchee. But the air is charged with something far more potent. And it has felt that way since I arrived in May. It’s very different than the usual, and everyone is commenting on it.

The atmosphere here is tense and emotionally charged. And not in a good way. Uncertainty. Unsureness. Doubt. Ambiguity. Discontent. Vagueness. Anxiety. Fear. These are just some of the words people are using to describe it.

School has been in session for only a couple of weeks. There have already been lockdowns due to suspicious persons roaming nearby. Other states have already reported shootings. When I was in school it was accepted that the teacher was always right. By the time my kids were in school it had changed. The parents were always right, not the teachers. Today it seems like it has shifted again. The kids feel entitled and they are the ones who are always right. Unfortunately that only leads to more violence.

And then there was the assassination of Charlie Kirk this past week. Freedom of Speech is protected by the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution. Just because you may not agree with the words of a speaker does not give you the right to kill him. This shouldn’t be a matter of Republican versus Democrat. This is man’s inhumanity to man we’re talking about . And Kirk’s murder was a senseless and horrible tragedy.

This morning at church the sermon was about the importance of prayer and forgiveness. If there were more of that our world wouldn’t be in such a mess right now. That’s right. The entire world. It doesn’t matter what country you live in.

And while we’re on the topic of church, I never cease to be amazed by the men who walk into church with a Bible in one hand and a gun in a holster on their hip. Or the women who carry guns in their purses. The church I attend now is a smaller one and I haven’t noticed it here, but when I went to some of the more mega-sized churches it was definitely noticeable. Of course I’ve also had the experience of being locked inside a Christian church in Mexico once the service began. All in the name of security. And scary.

That’s it for doom and gloom. I pray that this coming week is a peaceful one for everyone.

More Memories

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More Memories

August 23, 2009. International Peace Gardens. Murals in Boissevain. Morden Corn and Apple Festival. I’m exhausted just thinking that I did all that in one day. Solo too. But people who know me are well aware that if I want to travel somewhere, I don’t always wait to find someone who wants to go with me. I just go.

I had always wanted to visit the International Peace Gardens. When I was a child, some of my friends went to a music camp there in the summer. I envied them. I actually auditioned, was accepted but never did go. My parents were not in favor of it. Growing up in the shadow of an older sibling, their expectations were that I would do what he had done. And attending this camp was never anything he had done. I think that maybe this contributed to my urge to be a non-conformist and somewhat of a rebel. At any rate, it has definitely influenced my determination to explore and seek adventure in life.

Here it is, decades later, and I am able to spend a few hours at the Peace Gardens. Aside from the beautiful flower gardens, I found tranquility in The Peace Chapel. There was a monument to 9/11. The Peace Tower and The Bell Tower were rather formidable. I hope that someday I will have an opportunity to revisit this area.

I drove through Boissevain admiring all the murals I’d heard about. And then it was time to lighten the mood at the Corn and Apple Festival, an event I’d attended on previous visits to Morden.

Since 2010, most of my August 23rds have been spent in Mexico or in Washington. But there is one August 23rd that stands out in my memory and it happened years before 2009, years before I had Facebook to remind me of memories. It was a celebration in Winnipeg that actually filled the entire weekend. It involved one of my kids and sadly many people who are no longer with us today. I do have photos that are backed up on an external hard drive. Think I might just go and check them out.

Enjoy your weekend!

I Will Always Call Her Kimmy

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I Will Always Call Her Kimmy

When my daughter was born, I was surprised, no let’s call it shocked. You see, I’d had the same difficult pregnancy, had carried the same way and was positive that it was going to be another boy. I recall a nurse asking me what name I had chosen, and I recall blurting out Kevin Matthew. She reassured me that I had just given birth to a girl and that I needed to think of another name.

So I did. I called my daughter Kelly Melinda, at least for the first twenty-four hours. But then I caved. Family all chided me and said I couldn’t have a Kyle, Kelly and Kelsey. They all sounded too alike. Kyle was my son and Kelsey was my dog.

After a somewhat tense discussion, my ex and I decided on Kimberly instead of Kelly. Mara, her middle name, was my ex’s idea. He didn’t like Melinda. So now I had a Kimmy instead of a Kelly.

And it was all good until she announced that she wanted to be called Kim, not Kimmy. Okay, she’s in her forties now and she made this decision when she was only six or seven, but I still call her Kimmy. And when Kyle and I talk about her, it’s always Kimmy.

The other day I was doing a video call with my granddaughter Madeline. She pouted annoyedly and said to her mom, “Did you hear what Grandma just called you?” Out came the guns; once again my daughter criticizing me for calling her Kimmy. Apparently I’m the worst mom in the world because I still call her Kimmy.

I don’t care. Judge me all you want. It was hard enough giving up Kelly. But don’t ask me to give up another name. I will always call her Kimmy.

You’re Never There

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You’re Never There

I disagree. I can’t say I’m never there, but I definitely can say that I’m seldom there. And just where is there? Why, it’s Facebook of course!

Just why am I seldom there? Because life is to be lived. That means up front and personal. That means interacting with other people. It doesn’t mean staring at a screen on my phone or on my laptop all day. That isn’t living.

Basically, I share my WordPress blog on Facebook. I belong to three writers groups on Facebook which I don’t always check out as often as I would like to. I’ve learned a lot about writing and publishing from these groups. As I’ve said many times before, send me a private message if you want me to be aware of something important going on in your life. With hundreds of friends on Facebook, I don’t have time to waste scrolling and sifting through far too many shared posts every day to find the ones that may truly be worth reading.

Occasionally I read posts on Facebook from a group called If You Grew Up In Winnipeg. There are two types of people who post here…those who still live there and haven’t experienced life outside of Winnipeg and those that have escaped Winnipeg when they have discovered the adventures that can be found elsewhere. However I must admit that I do find some of the photos quite interesting.

I had a stimulating conversation with a friend in Winnipeg last night. We’re both divorced, have adult children and grandchildren. We both concluded that our lives have not turned out the way we envisioned them years ago. But we do find our lives challenging as well as fulfilling.

And I wholeheartedly continue to embrace this philosophy…………………. First Coffee, Now What?

And you?

Beam Me Back

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Beam Me Back

My childhood was in the fifties and my teenage years in the sixties. I never thought about it back then but when I look back at it today……….”Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end,” sang Mary Hopkin. But those days did end. I look around me and can’t believe what I see today.

We can’t blame everything on the availability of technology, although many would prefer to do so. Kids today aren’t nearly as carefree as we were back then. Fire drills have been replaced by other drills in the classroom; drills that were unimaginable when I was young.

My own kids came along in the eighties. At a very young age they were playing games like “Don’t talk to Strangers,” not Cowboys and Indians. They learned to decode alarm systems instead of coming home to unlocked doors after school. The internet was at their fingertips to read about war and violence. As a child I wasn’t even allowed to watch the 11 o’clock news as my parents thought it might give me nightmares.

Today it’s worse. Here in the Wenatchee Valley crime rates are higher than the national average. We are all still reeling from the tragic death of three sisters at the hands of their murderous father. And he is still at large. This is something that should be reserved for a Lifetime movie. It shouldn’t be happening in real life in our own backyard.

As a child, we played outside with friends until the streetlights came on. Neighbors looked out for each other and someone was always checking up on the kids, whoever’s house they happened to be playing at. The front porch was a popular place to sit. Today people back out of their garages and don’t even know their neighbors. Backyard decks allow for even more privacy; or is it seclusion?

Hitchhike? Accept a ride from a stranger while waiting at a bus stop? Unheard of today. I wouldn’t even want my child to use public transit so those options are definitely eliminated. The term “helicopter parent” would absolutely apply to me. And that isn’t good parenting either. Kids have to learn to make choices, preferably good ones. And they don’t have the opportunity to do that if they’re overprotected.

And then there’s the opposite. There are the kids who have too much freedom, the kids whose parents are too wrapped up in themselves to notice the warning signs that their kids are struggling and getting into trouble. And when they finally do notice a problem, the blame is more often than not put on the teacher or the coach instead of the parent.

Dick, Jane and Sally. Spot and Puff. Where have you gone?

Hug Your Kids Tight

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Hug Your Kids Tight

Last week a horrendous event occurred here in the Wenatchee Valley. It wasn’t an accident. It was cold-blooded murder. While I don’t personally know the family involved, I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by this senseless tragedy. Actually a myriad of feelings fill my head. Frustration that an amber alert hadn’t been called immediately when a distraught mother reported that her ex-husband hadn’t returned her three daughters after a custodial visit. Anger that the father had done the unimaginable. He had murdered his three daughters. Compassion for the mother deprived of the opportunity to watch her children grow up, sharing in their joys and sorrows. And fear because this dangerous man is still at large.

While today more than ever people are encouraged to seek professional help when mental health issues arise, they are often reluctant to do so. Sadly sometimes the resources are not always readily available. There is also the danger of a misdiagnosis and inappropriate treatment. The system definitely has its flaws.

Wild speculations about the circumstances that led to this horrific event fill Facebook, fueled by the fact that the father was a veteran who had served in the military. This isn’t a time for Facebook gossip. This isn’t an internet soap opera. This is real life involving real people.

Instead, this is a time for prayer; for the mother, the three little angels now in heaven, and even the father.

So How Was Your Childhood?

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So How Was Your Childhood?

As I lazily sipped coffee and checked my emails in bed this morning, the TV was on in the background. But instead of a movie in Spanish, the channel was INSP and the show was an old western. My favorites to watch include The Rifleman, High Chapparal and Gunsmoke. And they bring back memories of my childhood; the days when we only had three channels and no cable.

As an adult, it’s a mystery to me why my parents allowed me to watch these violent shows where people were always being shot, killed or scalped yet viewing a newscast was forbidden. After all, the daily news might somehow cause me to have nightmares. At least that’s what they told me.

I had a cap gun. I can still feel it in my hand and I can still smell it after it went off. As kids, we always played Cowboys and Indians. One of my friends actually had a toy bow and arrow, so being an Indian wasn’t all that bad. But the good guys were always the Cowboys and the bad guys were always the Indians. And my skills with that cap gun were far superior to those with a bow and arrow.

I also had water pistols. I mean, you could still always yell “Bang! Bang! You’re Dead!” using those instead of cap guns.

Flash ahead to when my kids came along. Their water pistols looked like animals, not guns. And I never allowed them to have any kind of toy gun. But I did let them watch the newscasts on TV. And I’m certain I let them watch more than a few TV shows and movies that were probably quite inappropriate for their age. And they seemed to have turned out okay. They aren’t serial killers or criminals.

But growing up in the 50s was a lot more “wholesome” than being a child in the 80s. It was safe to play outside until the streetlights came on. Everyone knew their neighbors. We had front porches not decks in the backyard. We didn’t have attached garages so we actually interacted with our neighbors. We never locked our doors in the 50s. My kids learned how to arm and disarm an alarm system.

We’re in the 2020s now. Kids have drills informing them what to do if there is a shooter in the school. And I thought fire drills were scary enough!

I wonder if someday my kids might look back and ponder about their childhood compared with their kids’ childhood.

So how was your childhood?

Emotional March

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Emotional March

The month of March has been all about emotion. First there is the course I’m taking from Yale University that deals with emotions. And then this morning I was on a Zoom meeting with Authors Publish with a speaker talking about expressing the emotions of our protagonist. It’s all been very moving.

I know that I get caught up in the emotions of my characters. I laugh with them and I cry with them. And that is the goal for my readers. I want them to feel these emotions as they read my books.

I occasionally read books and emotions come out that I don’t really want to feel. Sometimes they are triggered by memories that are best left in the past. After all, I have already dealt with them. Or have I? Then why am I so uncomfortable reading some of these books? Maybe there’s still work to be done.

Emotions and behavior modelled by parents and teachers in our childhood have a strong influence in the way we conduct our own lives as adults, especially when we find ourselves in difficult situations when it comes to resolving conflict. These then have a great influence on our own children, or on our students if we are educators.

Think about that for a moment. Teachers spend a lot more time with children than parents do. Subsequently our biases are often passed on, often subconsciously. It can be confusing for children to choose as some of these values may be in direct conflict from those expressed by their parents. And to make matters even more complicated, children themselves may have very different ideas.

One of the writing prompts I came across recently posed this question: “Who was the one teacher that made the biggest impression in your life?” I thought about that one long and hard, because the one teacher I had in mind was not only a horrible teacher but was also a lousy guidance counselor. Back in tenth grade he told me to switch from the university entrance program to the business education program. How encouraging! Despite the fact that I skipped classes and often ignored homework assignments, my grades were high. And of course that annoyed him even more. In this case, my confusion back in high school resulted in anger and frustration. His advice resonated throughout my college years where I continued to skip classes but still maintained a high grade point average.

As an adult today I’ve let go of the anger. However I feel strongly that this particular teacher had no place being in a classroom and should never have been a guidance counselor either. I wonder what unresolved issues he had in his own life that caused him to have such a strong negative influence on not only myself, but other students as well. And as a teacher myself, I do my best to understand why students exhibit certain behaviors. Only then can I best help them.

I’m glad I didn’t switch programs back in high school. I have attended universities in Canada and in Mexico. I have earned accreditations in psychology, sociology, counseling, education and yes, even in business administration. These have enabled me to live in different countries, to meet fascinating people and to have amazing adventures.

My advice – Give yourself permission to feel your emotions. They will lead you on an exciting journey through life.