The Grandma’s Birthday

Today is my Mother-In-law's Birthday. She turns seventy-seven years young today.

I have told all kinds of stories that are about this one of the two Grandmas. But I probably haven't really given you a taste of how great the Grandma's in our family really are.

Joan is known in our household simply as Grandma or Grandma D when a distinction between the Grandmas is needed. The only living Grampa we have in our family is Joan's husband Glenn. And Glenn is known to my little girls as 'Nonos'. I used to joke that hi sname 'Nonos' came from his ability to say no. But nothing is further from the truth as Glenn is one of the most generous men I know. But he covers his kindness with a very thick crusty mask.

Nonos working life was spent as what I would see to be a project manager of large construction projects – mainly road construction around the world. He was seriously injured when he fell from a cliff in Africa. But work such as that, dealing with tough and rugged people, requires a gruff and rugged leader. And that was – and still is – Nonos.

The Grandma and Nonos participate in the local Legion. For those of you who may not know, in Canada, the Legion is a national association of social and community clubs supporting the Veterans of our Armed Forces. The Grandma and Nonos are very involved with their Legion, as Nonos' recently held the presidency of the local and now stands a past president.

As president, Nonos brought the Legion back from near bankruptcy and certain closure to a profitable and more desirable state for their membership. Now as past-president – Nonos is watching his hard work wash away as the practices of the past drain both the membership and their financial state.

Joan supports her husband's endeavors completely. But the beauty of their relationship stems from the adage that familiarity breeds contempt. I have never met two people who care for each other so much but hide it so well in their day to day battling.

But this the Grandma's birthday. I only tell you about Nonos so that you better understand the this one of the two Grandmas. Both Grandma and Nonos are very social people. Both enjoy a party if you will. And both do their best to bring that party atmosphere with them as they tackle the common challenges of ever day life.

I have not met anyone who dislikes the Grandma. My own Mum – the other Grandma – enjoys Grandma D very much. And when the two are together, well – things just happen.

Today, my family – which currently includes our Irish visitors Ray and Shell – will pack up the car and head over to the Grandma's house for the day. We will sit in the back yard and enjoy the pool and the perfect summer weather. And the girls will be dressed in the summer dresses, and Ray and Shell will enjoy with us this special day with the Grandma.

It will be a day we all remember. A day that my little girls will always remember.

Happy birthday, Grandma D.

Sunday Mornings

I have always been a fan of Sunday morning.

I can easily understand why Christian faiths commonly hold services on Sunday morning.

It just seems so spiritual. Clean. There is something very wholesome about Sunday morning.

I think that should I ever find myself shipwrecked on a desert island, with no watch or calendar, I would easily recognize Sunday mornings from the rest of the mornings.

It just feels so inspirational.

On this particular Sunday morning, it is my daughter Alannah’s seventh birthday. The sun is out bright with that beautiful yellow hue that can only be experienced on Sunday morning.

It is minus twelve degrees Celsius. That’s eleven degrees Fahrenheit. It is cold. And windy. But the yellow hue of the sun replaces the draft of the cold winds inside our house.

Later in the day, Darlene’s family will come over for the family birthday party. By then it will be afternoon. And the magic of Sunday morning will have dispersed, to arrive again next weekend.

There will be excited little girls running around the up and down stairs. Left over packaging and tags from presents received both yesterday and today will be lying around visibly to signify the celebration. There will be drinks poured by the adults with glasses that clink.

There will be love.

But my bags still need to be packed; my clothes for the week to be folded into piles and put into my travel case; the work to be done this next week to be available as I ride the train to Toronto tonight.

Right after birthday cake.

I will be away for a week. Tomorrow Alannah is hosting the morning announcements at her school, reading a fairly lengthy piece over the public address system. And I will ask her tomorrow night by phone how it went. And I will tell her how proud of her I am. My little first grader.

Over the phone.

Thursday is Valentines Day. A day I would try to avoid at all cost – until I had two little girls. Valentines Day is very special to little girls. It rivals Halloween.

I missed last Halloween too. I stood in a parking lot at the corner of Yonge and College with my cell phone, talking to the girls while they tricked and treated last October. At the same time trying avoid a bum begging for a smoke.

And I missed Ashley’s Christmas play as well as the Breakfast with Santa event.

And I think the girls notice. Because they were quick to repeat back to me what I have already missed since starting this new role with the company last fall.

But they are not going without. My absence does not cancel these affairs. And Mom still attends. And I still tell them how proud of them I am every night on the phone.

The fact is that this is a great opportunity for our little family. And with each opportunity worth reaching for, a little sacrifice is often required.

The fellows that I am travelling with are fine fellows. They are good company, and good team mates. And we are starting to resemble a team as we move in our unified front.

But still, I am not looking forward to ending Alannah’s party early so the family can drive me to the train.

I am so proud of my little clan. I am so proud of my wife to the way she has accommodated these new twists. And my little girls understand. And while they don’t like it, I know they understand.

Sunday mornings are just wonderful. The gentle music on the radio. The yellow sun shining bright on what looks like frozen tundra. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast wafting through the air.

Sacred.

It’s the Sunday nights I am not to crazy about.

Becky's Big Day

On my desk at work, I have tons of photographs.

These photos are set up in various holders and frames, scattered amongst my various toys like my Don Cherry bobble head, Alannah’s t-ball bobble head, sponge stress balls, globes and even a stuffed Maple Leafs zamboni.

Some would say that such a display suggests I don’t take my job too seriously.

In truth those toys and photographs are there to help me not take my job too seriously. I can be a bit obsessive about what I do. I have to watch it some times.

So I play.

And I look at my favorite old photos.

My screen saver on my PC is full of new photos – pictures taken since digital cameras became the norm, not the novelty.

But I have not yet scanned in my old pictures.

I have some great ones: friends I went to University and College with, my beautiful wife from the days when we met, days when Paul and I were kids in Lawrenceville.

My favorite pictures are of family. And in particular my Brother Paul’s family – since my little family came along with the digital camera.

And in this collection are two very special pictures of a little girl, my niece, Becky Brill.

In one picture she is about two or three years old, and sitting in a chair opposite her dad. They both have their feet up on a coffee table, and because her dad has his foot up on the coffee table, so does Becky. And because Paul is reading a book, so is Becky.

But Becky’s book is upside down.

In the other picture, I am holding Becky as one would commonly carry a four or five year old, on my hip with my right arm supporting her. And she is smiling big. And so am I, which is odd for me in pictures.

When my co-workers see these pictures, they think the younger one is of my daughter Ashley-Rae – because Ashley-Rae looks just Beck did then. The older Becky they think is Alannah – as Alannah looks like Becky at that age.

These Brill girls are all pretty.

Becky and her younger brother Ben were both raised mostly in Mexico, while Paul and Leigh were down there as part of various projects. Construction projects if you will. They returned to the American Gulf coast – resuming life in Baker, Louisiana – just north of Baton Rouge.

I have had such little chance to spend time with Becky and Ben when they were in Mexico. But those times I did were very special.

As you can see in these pictures, Becky has grown into a fine young lady.

And I hope both of my girls grow to become even half the young lady that Becky has become.

Today is Becky’s birthday. She is now eighteen. Look out world!!

Happy Birthday Becky. I am very proud of you.

Raymond and the Seven Dancing Princesses

My youngest daughter is about to turn five years old.

Because of the schedule of events, we had her birthday party last Sunday. Ashley-Rae invited about ten kids. And six showed up. The parents of two announced their coming the morning of the party.

Therefore there was a flurry of activity before everyone arrived at one o’clock.

The attendees were 5 little girls and one little boy, and Alannah and Ashley-Rae of course. That makes eight kids all together.

The theme of the party was “Barbie’s Twelve Dancing Princesses”.

Ashley-Rae loves anything to do with Princesses. But she especially loves Barbie’s Twelve Dancing Princesses.

When I ask Ashley what she wants to be when she grows up, she says “a Princess”.

So I have to find her a Prince I guess.

The little boy was Raymond. Raymond is a tough little boy. I think that of all the little boys I know who are not in our family, Raymond is my favorite. Maybe because his name is Raymond - like my Dad.

Raymond is about three feet tall, and two feet round. Raymond is solid muscle. And Raymond does things his way.

This may not sound like your typical prince. But he is.

Last year, there was an older boy who picked on Alannah and Ashley-Rae at the daycare they went to, This boy was older than Raymond. And bigger too.

Raymond stood up to that boy. And he protected my little girls. They love him. And I do to. I go out of my way to let him know he is my bud.

So here is a yard full of twelve dancing princess stuff. And Raymond is running around like a bull in a china shop. My china shop.

All the games that we played, Raymond won. All the swimming in the pool was stifled by Raymond splashing like a crazed seal. And every five minutes, one of the little girls came to me crying that Raymond did … something … that bothered them.

”Well, let Raymond know that it bothered you” I told them. They did and Raymond said “I’m sorry” each time.

When it was cake time, Raymond put on his Princess party hat without even a second thought. And he commenced to banging his fork and screaming “WE WANT CAKE” – over and over again, until the seven little girls chimed in with him.

When it was time to open presents, Raymond was right there beside Ashley-Rae. He gave her his presents first. There were three wrapped presents in his gift. They were coloring books and crafts. And for each one he helped her when she needed help unwrapping it. And he explained what each craft would make. Very proudly.

When his presents were all opened and he finished explaining to Ashley-Rae what everything was, Ashley looked at Raymond and said in her five year old voice – with her pretty eyes fluttering her lashes and a sweet smile.

She said “Thank you Raymond”. And she kissed him on the cheek.

And that was the first time all day that Raymond didn’t know what to do.