Sunday, September 27, 2009

deep thoughts...

I don't know why, but sometimes Julian gets in a contemplative, retrospective, somber mood. He will grow quiet, and sadly say to me: "Mommy, I don't want to die, because I will miss you - and I don't want my eyes to be closed all the time." Nora's response to this is (in a teary voice): "Mommy, I don't want to drive."


Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Post-Modern Baby.

On Monday I was driving Julian and Nora home at the end of the day when the following conversation took place:

Julian: "Mommy, do you know where babies come
Me: (thinking, Oh God - this conversation can't really be happening... he is only 4.5yrs old... I haven't read that far ahead in the "how to take care of your children manual") "Um, how?"
Julian: "Babies come out of your bum, Mommy."
Me: "They do?"
Julian: "Yes Mommy. Babies come out of your bum, and they are black."
Me: (shocked, and about to lodge a formal complaint to school/daycare) "Julian, where did you hear that."
Julian: "My book."
Me: "What book?"
Julian: "My baby book."
Me: "What baby book."
Julian: "My baby book in my closet on the top shelf. The pink one."

Then it hit me. 1 month before Julian was born I found a Keith Haring book called: "Babies" and I fell in love with it. I purchased it in honour of our baby-to-be. On the inside cover I inscribed: "to Julian, love mom & dad xox 01.2005". I remember the excitement I felt making the purchase... picturing going through all of the wonderful works of art with my little baby boy. The book features one of Haring's signature images, the "radiant baby". As written on the inside cover, there are: "pregnant women dancing giddily, babies with halo and wings, cradled in their mother's arms or playing with their dad." About 6 pages into the book there is also the image of a woman (in blue) giving birth to a baby (in black) with the assistance of another individual (in green). I hadn't looked through the book since Julian was a baby. It is kept on the top shelf of his closet with all of his other "special books". Last week he had asked to look at it, and I happily handed it to him, thinking to myself: "Good choice, buddy!".

Yes, Julian at the fragile age of 4.5yrs is now fully versed on the in's and out's (literally) of childbirth, all because I wanted to raise him with a keen appreciation for art.


Thursday, September 10, 2009


joy: the passion of emotion excited by the prospect of possessing what we love.

I can't really explain how it feels to know that my handwriting is out there, existing permanently on her, except to say that it brings me a lot of joy...

Thank you Lisa.

Friday, September 4, 2009

the note.

It was a monumental day at our house today... Julian and Nora had a babysitter for the first time. Well, a babysitter who wasn't a blood relative for the first time. Call us over-protective, but they have never been watched by someone other than us, or a mom/dad/sister/brother... crazy, I know. They LOVED it. When Melanie left I asked Julian if he had fun, and his reply was: "Yes, I love her.".

About 5 minutes after Melanie left he asked if he could write her a letter, I told him I would write it if he wanted to tell me what he would like to say. The following is the exact transcript:

Dear Melanie,

Just a note to say: dress warmly, eat well, stay safe and sound. Grow your garden very big. We're always there for you.


We delivered the letter to her, and on the way home Julian said: "Oh, no... I forgot: 'keep on smiling'..." Luckily before he could overanalyze the missed sentiment he found a bottle cap on the ground (his new favourite toy/collectable item). He then exclaimed: "Wow! This is my lucky day!".