So Many Kinds of Crazy

As we were driving to Toronto to take our kids to the airport for summer camp a song came on the radio by one of my husband’s favourite musicians. I remembered that the singer had been killed while on tour but I couldn’t remember if it had been a car accident or a plane crash. This then started us on a conversation of all of the musicians who have suffered untimely deaths while touring.

We quickly heard a deep voice from the row directly behind us, “Are you guys crazy?” The meaning behind our eldest son’s words immediately hit me full force. I looked at my husband in horror and guilt just as we heard the youngest voice from the very back of the van query, “What plane crashes? What plane crashes are you talking about?” There is a very fine line between crazy and just plain stupid. We seemed to have straddled that line. Our youngest is afraid to fly. We have banned from our home all t.v. shows detailing plane crashes, the mechanics of crashes, terrorism on planes and anything remotely related to unpleasant flight experiences. Our news reports are carefully monitored for stories of crashes. No matter how brave the pilot may have been he will not get his due in our house as the accident just won’t be discussed. So there we sat glibly discussing multiple crashes as our daughter was about to bravely board a plane and fly without parental accompaniement. She hates doing it, but she does it every summer because she loves her camp that much.

So yes, we were crazy stupid but on further inspection we are also crazy lucky to have children who try to look out for and protect one another.

That just makes me crazy grateful.

Sound Carries

Sound carries across the lake.

At the moment we have neighbours at the cottage. There is a little island right across from our cottage. That’s the island on the left of the photo. Usually no one is there but on occasion people come out to it. Right now they’re there and we can hear everything.
Conversations on the beach, the ring of a telephone, footsteps on the dock and foul language. We hear it all.
Last night we were talking in bed and we couldn’t help but hear the conversation coming from the island. My husband wondered, “Do you think they can hear us talking now?” Forget the Government, Big Brother, cell phones and all other media induced paranoia causing forms of loss of privacy. Sound carries across the lake. We hear you and you probably hear us. Has my language been salty? When I watch True Blood and there are all kinds of raunchy sounds coming from my T.V. do you know that it’s the T.V. and not us? Gosh I hope so. I really hope you’re not listening.

Fishermen out in your boats, if I can hear you the fish probably can too. Shhh.

Can you hear the silence?

The Most Wonderful Day Of The Year

This past Sunday was my very favourite day of the year. It was Visitors’ Day at my children’s camp. So we drove 340km then hopped on a plane and flew about 1500km and then drove another 150km or so all so that we could sped 6 hours with our kids. And you know what? It was worth every second spent travelling.

The day begins with anxious and excited parents waiting outside of the camp raring to be let in. There’s a tradition called “The Mommy Run”. All of the crazed mothers gravitate to the front of the pack so that they can take off and fly into the camp to hunt down their children and tackle them in an overwhelming display of love and exuberance. My children have gotten older and would probably find such behaviour on my part to be fairly humiliating. Not to mention that I myself have become older and wiser and I now know that they’re just fine and that I would probably only increase my hugging time by a couple of minutes. Those Mommy Run days are so done for me. My sister-in-law and I were waiting together and laughing about the Mommy Run. Not us, we’re too cool. Then I heard it. The nearest cabin of children began a slow and steady chant of “Mom-ee Run, Mom-ee Run”. I looked at my sister-in-law in mild horror and confessed that my feet were beginning to itch. I could feel the need to run. She reminded me, ‘self-control’ and immediately spotted her children. MY kids were waiting at their cabins, the furthest ones from the entrance. So I began my Mommy Speedwalk – trying very hard not to elbow any helpless parent, staff or camper who was in my way. Then I spotted the 3 of them standing together. Three wonderful smiling faces as happy to see me as I was to see them. I stopped altogether, threw my arms open and the 3 of them ran to me! My kind of Mommy Run.

We didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. We just spent 6 hours hanging out together and picnicking and I can’t think of anything that I’ve done at any point this year that was better than that. Their brother called from Israel so that he could speak to his siblings. My day was complete.

Two more weeks and they’re all home. I can’t wait.

To any of you who wish to remind me that after one day I’ll be ready to send them back I beg you, let me live in my dream world for now.