Owen Finley Hamilton Durk

Welcome to the world, little one…

Love Aunt Tellie & Uncle Adam

Happy Birthday Chuki!

Chuki turned 7 this past Wednesday, we think. He was a rescue kitten after-all, and we estimated his age at 8 weeks when we got him in July 28th, 2001, but later the vet thought he might have been 5 or 6 weeks (!) since his teeth were small and he was still suckling at our fingers, like he had been separated from his Mom before 8 weeks. We didn’t update his “birthday date” though, so May 28th it has been for the past 6 years.

Yeah, kitty birthdays are dumb to some people, but we don’t have any kids and have to take it out on someone.

We bought him some toys and a “Furminator” (found Via Mary-Robinette Kowal’s blog this weekend, more on that later) and I cracked out the bead case and made him a few new necklace collars. He liked the wooden bead one best, so he’s now sporting a fancy new collar for the summer months.

Then we ate 1 piece of cheese each and took birthday photos.

Long Live Camp

If you know what to look for, it’s not hard to spot us. Something like that leaves it’s mark, the ghost of a part of our lives when we knew that what we were doing mattered. The confidence of a soul that has been a pillar for someone, the strong one, the one that was there for them, cared for them, helped and guided them, and sadly, sometimes had to save them. I was a camp counselor for troubled kids.

It was the summers during my university degree that were filled with camp chants and group games. The 7 of us were the tightest set of co-workers I had ever been a part of (or have been since) and we were all in it because we wanted to be there. It had little to do with the paycheck; if it had we would all have been working somewhere else as almost every job at the time paid better than what we got. It wasn’t a summer job, it was who we were. We lived together, drank together, and dedicated every spare minute to making that camp spectacular for those kids because for many, we were the only ones who cared.

We all realized that a counselor has a unique role in a child’s life, and therefore a unique resposibility. We were not parents, not teachers. We were someone they have fun with and so more likely to be someone they would confess feelings, fears and issues to. We were also more than a peer, an adult who had the power to help them with these fears and issues. Because of this counselors are often the first one a child will finally tell when they need help or are in trouble and can’t go to anyone at home. It is rewarding, but sometimes it is horrifying. The first time I ever had to call child services I cried all night. My co-counselors cried with me.

With summer around the corner I have been thinking about camp a lot. I am happy as a Chemist, but I do miss the fun, the outdoors, the giant rubber water-balloon sligshot and, of course, the kids. Here is a little list for all of you counselors who do it because you care and you know that it is so much more important than “just a job.”

How To Tell If You Are a True Camp Counselor:

1. You would never, ever pack peanut butter in a bag lunch
2. You know how to stab an epi-pen
3. You know 7 different versions of the rules for Flags and which versions should be used when.
4. You have a bathing suit tan or a flip-flop tan in December
5. You unconsciously count the people you are with every 5 minutes as if you were making sure you had all of your campers. Your friends have stopped asking why you do this.
6. If you were a water instructor, it really bugs you to see people switching sides when they paddle a canoe
7. You can make up a game in under 1 minute using a bobby pin, three used coffee cups and a pen.
8. You have come home with paint in your ear at least once.
9. You have proudly worn a plastic lacing bracelet (or gimp, for the old schoolers) made by a camper out on a fancy dinner because you couldn’t untie it, but wouldn’t think of cutting it off.
10. You have played at least one camp game in a bar with friends.

There are oh, so many more. Feel free to add yours in the comments. And long live camp.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame…

A fun Sunday. Adam, Colin, Emily and I went to the Sky-dome (I refuse to call it the Roger’s Center) for the first time in a long time. We got to see the Jays Sweep the Red Sox (but I secretly kind of like the Red Sox) and watch Frank Thomas pull off a pretty nice Grand Slam Home-run.

We thought going to the Sunday game would be better since Friday was Colin’s Athletic Therapy Banquet and there may have been some hang-overs on Saturday. But then we proceeded to have a jam session on Saturday night which led to wine and 4 cases of beer, so Sunday was a bit rough anyway, as Emily demonstrates on the train home. More pictures here.

The Wedding Files – Project #2 Decorating With Memories

St Peter’s Cathedral – Where Adam & I were married, Oct 21, 2006

When planning decorations for the reception it was important that we included items that would beautify the room, but also items that would be interesting, entertaining or treasured to our guests, and one of the simplest ways was to use treasured photographs as a decorating medium. We used the photographs in a number of ways, and collecting them all was tricky as we had to dig quite deep to attain a few of them, but the result was a display that was not only beautiful and in-keeping with our theme of vintage romantic, it was interesting to guests to peruse our collected pictures and remember people,places and times they knew.

The Key Players: The first set of photos I gathered was a baby photo of Adam, of me, of each of my parents and of each of his. These were each placed in vintage-type frames from the dollar store and labeled little tags that said “Bride” “Groom” “Mother of the Bride” “Father of the Bride” “Mother of the Groom” and “Father of the Groom” in the same font used for all other wedding stationary. These were set on the presentation table as people walked in, beside the board with the escort cards.

The “I Do”‘s that made us who we are: I then tracked down the wedding photos of his parents, my parents and all 5 or our grandparent’s weddings (Grandma Carpenter married again after the loss of Grandpa Shortt). I printed these as 5×7 and inserted into simple black frames, again from the dollar store. I made a small card label for each again, and placed on a display table with some keepsakes we could collect: My mother’s veil and their guest-book, my grandmother’s cake topper and a few other treasures. Everyone has kept something from their special day, and all were willing to pull a little something out of hiding.

The Wedding Book: While searching for the wedding pictures of our parents and grandparent’s I came across many other wedding pictures and it made me think of the shoebox of wedding pics I have at home sent in numerous thanks you cards through the years. I took all the collected pictures that had no home and asked friends and family for more, and included as many wedding pictures of the guests that I could find into a small journal with the picture, their names and the date of marriage and I placed this on the gifts table for people to peruse. It was neat for people to see their own pictures in there and fun when they found an old picture of someone we knew in common. I have kept this book and plan on adding any new pictures we get in the future.

Random pictures: With a little patience and a lot of photopaper (courtesy of Kieran at Henry’s – thank you!!) I rounded up extra pictures and any copies I made for the other projects that did not get used and made a small picture packet for each table. I tried to include cute pictures of the table occupants or perhaps a wedding picture of one of the guests seated there. From what I could see it was a good conversation starter at the tables with particularly goofy pictures or very old wedding shots, and brought back many memories of inside jokes, mischief or embarrassing haircuts. I tried to do this for every table, but there were a couple I was just not able to round up pictures for (friends of parents, for example) but I think they had fun looking at other’s funny pictures.

Blast from the past: I also came across many very old photos of family that I put in an album near the family tree (that’s another project)and almost every family present at the wedding has asked for scans of the precious old photos. Most of them came from Adam’s mom, but I was able to supplement our collections with some neat photos from my Baba, some dating back to when her Dad was young.

So there you have it. Simple ideas not requiring too much skill, just a lot of digging. These project has doubled our collection of memorable family photos, and provided some simple decoration and simple entertainment.

Miscarriage

At first, it was hard to work out how to feel about it all, until I stopped trying to figure out how to feel and just let myself feel whatever emotion came. The first emotion to come was sadness and a deep sense of loss. Trying to tell myself it was impossible to miss something you never had was pointless, because the hopes and dreams we had for the little life in me were so strong it felt like they had crossed the barrier from intangible thoughts into real things, something we could see and touch… and lose. It was our first one, the first pregnancy, and it was jarring to see the ball we had started rolling toward making our own little family stop suddenly at the crest of the hill.

I ran the gambit of emotions then: guilt, despite being told that a life lost this early was a life doomed from conception by its own genetic code; apprehension, about what was to come next, medically and emotionally; surprise, at the number of women I know who have endured the same and were able to share; gratitude, toward the family & friends who offered support and advice; acceptance, that this was not avoidable and fated in the stars, or the genes or the heavens or wherever this stuff is decided, and finally, determination to not let this set back our plans for a family any longer than medically necessary which sounds clinical, but it helped to have a “goal.”

So I guess this post probably explains my blogging absence over the last few weeks, but now that things are clearer I want to share as much of my experience as I can for those enduring the same. I am the type of person who will Google something to like this to learn about other’s experiences and the stories I read did me good so I would like to post my own and offer a forum for others to comment on anything sort of related. Since all the girly details are not for the faint of heart, I’ll be posting my stories about the medical and emotional progression on a separate page, apart from the main blog and will post the link once I get it up and running. I encourage everyone who wants (warning boys, if you pale at the word “menstruation” you’d better stick with the TSN website) to post their comments or stories too.

One night, about 7 years ago, while crying on Sarah’s shoulder about a break-up (or some similar teenage tragedy) so said a simple thing to me: “It gets better.” That was all, but it was the most encouraging thing to hear while my head was full and my heart was sad and it felt like it would hurt forever. I had already heard countless encouraging comments from everyone but this simple thought stuck on because it was simply stated enough to poke through my grief-induced stupor, and because when you feel sad it feels like it will never end and that is scarier than the loss itself. So I repeated to myself “It’ll get better.” And it did. Hang in there.

Non-Denominational Festival Shrub

We put the tree up this weekend, mostly because we are feeling holiday nostalgia since at this time last year we were walking into Disneyworld when it was fully decked out in holiday decor. They don’t do anything halfway and I was overwhelmed by the lights, music, trees and general holiday mayhem. What a way for someone to experience Disney for the first time, especially someone who likes Christmas as much as I do.

The holidays have been getting a bad rap for the past few years and I have to tell you, I don’t buy into it. Sure, companies make a ton of money during the holidays, but Christmas is what YOU make it. No one is going to make you buy all that crap you see in the stores, no one can force you to care more about your presents’ price than it’s intent. I think it’s fun to go to the mall and listen to the music and look at the elaborate displays, and I am not going to let the fact that those displays are intended to lure me into shopping ruin the fact that they are fun to look at. I love holidays because everyone gets into it, for their own reasons to be sure, but apathy has trouble finding a home this season. There are so many stories, so many moments during the holidays that make you smile, remember, appreciate who you are with – what can be bad about a season that does all that?

I guess it is about the way I was raised. Christmas dinner is more important to me than the gifts, even though Tia and I were blessed with generous parents and did get a bit spoiled in the gift department. I think if you want to capture the spirit of Christmas and teach your children to appreciate something other than the price tag you have to start inside your family, not outside of it by passing the buck and blaming the corporations. A Christmas full of traditions (the wackier the better) and family gatherings, of spending time with your kids by going skating, or shopping, or just playing in the snow – those are the things that will end the commercialism and bring back a wholesome Christmas. We are really good at blaming others, but for this we need to start in our own backyard.

Anyways, here are some beautiful pictures Adam took of our tree (of course, only one shot of the whole tree, and one of the glass bulb I broke). If you are wondering why it looks shorter this year we had to leave the base off or else it covered the TV and half the room. Once we win the lottery and have a gigantic mansion we can use the whole tree again in all its 8-foot-what-were-we-thinking-buying-a-tree-that-damn-big-in-the-first-place glory.

Turkey Day

The latest etsybloggers blog carnival topic is “Thanksgiving Thoughts,” which is silly because we all know thanksgiving was a month ago. Wait, what? Americans celebrate thanksgiving in November? Why on earth would they do that? Everyone knows it is in October.

I guess it doesn’t really matter when you celebrate your turkey day, the scene is the same in houses across the continent, no matter when it is held. A frenzy of cooking, an occasional shout from the den as every male in the family cheers on the sports team on the TV (football in US, Hockey up here) and enough turkey, stuffing and wine to fill 100 people, despite the fact that you only invited 15.

I was born Chantelle Tremblay and although I am technically now a Finley, I still relish big family dinners and will always be a Tremblay on the holidays. My new husband Adam needed a little while to recover from his first experience of a Tremblay Holiday when he came to the first one 6 years ago as “the new boyfriend.” Poor guy just didn’t know what he was in for since his family dinners, while very nice, are generally a few hours shorter than ours and require considerably less energy. To help other unsuspecting future additions to our family or to help give you a glimpse of my life growing up, I prepared the following checklist for anyone who thinks they are ready to tackle a Tremblay Family Holiday.

1. Buy the biggest ham shank in North America. We don’t really do the turkey thing – french ham is our family holiday dinner, so you’ll have to get over the lack of poultry before we go any further..
2. Count your chairs. If you have more guests than chairs, gather up all the stools, boxes and blow-up exercise balls you can find in the house.
3. Count your forks. Again, if you have more guests than forks scrounge for anything remotely fork-like and use them for the kids table since they won’t mind eating with swizzle stick pitchforks.
4. Reconcile yourself to the fact that no matter how lavishly you decorate your table, everyone will still fight for seats at the kids table.
5. If dinner is scheduled to be served at 6, it will be served at 8. Just get used to it. It happens every year.
6. Rummage through the house for every bit of embarrassing paraphernalia you can find from your children’s childhood to bring out like Santa once all the guests are settled in the den. Macaroni picture of turkeys and stories of the first time your child tried to make you dinner will work, as well as pictures of them in goofy Halloween costumes. This step is even more essential if your children are bringing new boyfriends or girlfriends.
7. Forget the stereotypical football game and just flip to Hockey night in Canada for the men. It’ll save them having to change the channel from the football game you thought they’d watch to the hockey game.
8. If the Leafs happen to be playing the Senators, prepare for a long night.
9. Calculate the amount of wine needed and then add one bottle to that total – for Chantelle to spill on the carpet. If you have a white or cream coloured couch, add two bottles.
10. Buy the biggest pot known to mankind for the ham. Make everyone else move it around for you. Throw in a couple needless trips for the pot from the top of the stove to the counter and back just to make the men feel like they are helping.
11. Don’t let the men help, unless you are barbecuing thanksgiving dinner.
12. Put bells on the collars of all the cats or you’ll never find them again when it is time to leave. (Yes, we bring the cats – we all live indifferent cities) If you can’t find Jingle, look behind the DVD player.
13. You are required to serve all of the following for dessert: Pumpkin Pie, Apple Pie, Strawberry Rhubarb Pie, Coconut Cream Pie and Lemon Pie. We don’t really care what you give us for dinner, as long as there’s pie.
14. Practice your interrupting-people-in-the-middle-of-a-word skills or you’ll never get a word in edge-wise.
15. A game of Balderdash is traditional after dinner. A hint about the players: Tia’s entry will always have a culture in it (“An English sport,” “A Mexican resort,” and “An Egyptian photocopier” are all previous definitions she has used), Mom’s is the one that either has birds in it or sounds like a university professor wrote it. Dad’s is usually funny, and sometimes a bit gross. Chantelle’s answer doesn’t usually make sense until you read it about 8 times, Terry’s is always about an animal and Adam’s is the one that always needs clarification (but usually the one we always pick).
16. Make sure you have a lot of blankets because no one should drive after that much Balderdash.
17. Eat, drink & Be Merry. The number one rule is that even if you ignore all the rest of the checklist, just have fun being together and it will be a successful Tremblay Dinner no matter what else happens.

The October Tree

The first conscious memory I have of making something on my own was in first grade, during a recess break in a thunderstorm. It was October and the trees whipping by the window were quickly being stripped of their deep red and orange leaves, sending them spiralling up and away from me. Because of the rain and lightning we were spending the break indoors and Mrs. Wasko had put out art materials to use if we wanted. A number of children were crying as the thunderclaps seemed to be booming inside that very classroom instead of outside. My sister, Tia, was in Kindergarten and her teacher had let her come up to spend the recess with Big Sis. She did not cry, but she did not let go of my left hand as I drew, either.

I remember taking care to pick the most vibrant red paper, the deepest colour of orange pencil crayons, the brightest yellow markers. That day was the first time I ever looked at the world around me and visually journaled what I saw.

I think I remember that day so vividly because all of the elements of my favorite experiences were present. I love thunderstorms and to this day I cannot stop a grin when I hear the first distant rumbling. I am still in Love with Ontario in October and the simple fact that tree leaves get more beautiful as they grow closer to dying. And I am still touched when Tia lets me know in her own way that it would be okay for me to comfort her, if I can, even if she won’t admit she needs it.

The October Tree is the third in a series of trees for the seasons, mimicking the deep colours of the maple I remember watching as I drew and coloured that day. I haven’t been back to St. Sebastian’s in a long time and I don’ t even know if the tree still stands. I don’t want to know. I want it to forever look like it did to me that day as I shaded leaves holding hands with my little sister inside during a storm.

Happy Mother’s Day

My friend and fellow Etsy seller Uli (Owner of Sparkles and Fuzz Etsy Store) recently shared her story of the wonderful recipe book prepared for Mother’s Day by the children and staff at her daycare. Each child dictated a favorite recipe and the instructions were recorded word-for-word and collected into a little recipe book. Here is the submission by her Daughter…

How to make Chocolate Chip Cookies

(as recorded and transcribed by her daycare teachers)

I think they sugar in them. Definitely chocolate chips, sometimes she puts Smarties in it. She uses butter. She puts brown sugar in the dough. She uses two eggs in it. She mixes them up with a mixing pan. She puts chocolate chips in it. She takes the bowl off the mixer, I’ll call it that cuz I don’t know what its name is. She puts them on a pan, then puts them in the oven. The balls of dough are this BIG. Then you flatten them up or all the smarties or chocolate chips will fall out or they will break apart. The temperature is really suppose to be 500 degrees, I thin, if my mom put them in the oven for 40 minutes they would like burn so I would think about 5 minutes. She lets them cool down then lets me taste them.