Super Moms

Moms come in all shapes, sizes and types. There are step moms, mothers-in-law, and the most cherished of all: the Super Mom.

A Super Mom can do anything and everything.
She can multi-task like no other. To her, carrying on a conference call while making school lunches is child's play.

Gardening, while playing fetch with the dog, and blowing bubbles in the backyard is easy as pie.

And breaking up a fight between siblings, putting together a complex puzzle and baking cookies all at the same time time doesn't even cause her to break a sweat.

Super Moms may not be able to fly or lift cars, but they do have super powers.

They have the ability to read minds and know when you're hiding something. Their interrogation methods match those of the secret service and after a few minutes of the intimidating stare-down combined with the raised eyebrow technique, suspects are spilling the beans about "what really happened" just to escape.

A Super Mom has unmatched healing powers.

Shrieks and cries are instantly subdued when she wipes away tears and she kisses bumps, bruises and scratches that have on-lookers fainting at the sight.

Amazingly Super Moms tend to be psychic.

After desperately pleading with her to help you find your homework, she'll tell you without missing a beat that it is in your room. She will then tell you specifically that it's on the left side of the third shelf beside your bed under your socks (and with a raised eyebrow she reminds you that you would know that if you had put away your laundry like she told you to).

Super Moms are brilliant.

They know why the sun is yellow, how far away it is and where it goes at the end of the day. And they don't mind explaining it to you; over and over and over again.

Fear is not in the genes of a Super Mom.

She can set up elaborate traps to catch bogeymen hiding under the bed in the middle of the night and she will stand guard until all those strange noises in the closet move on to the next house.

Super Mom doesn't let germs scare her, and she will bravely cuddle beside you when you have a fever and comfort you with stories and kisses and songs until you fall asleep, and miraculously she is still there when you wake up and need a drink.

She will not flinch when she gets coated with projectile vomit at three in the morning and she doesn't squirm when she gets smothered with booger smooches and is used as a comfy Kleenex during cold season.

Super Mom helps you study, drives you to the mall and lets you sleep in until noon after you have a sleepover and she doesn't think of complaining about the noise and giggles that continued long after her midnight knock at your bedroom door saying "lights out"

A Super Mom holds your hand and although it crushes her heart the day you tell her you're "big enough" to cross the street by yourself, she lets you embrace your independence (but she still watches like a hawk from the window ready to swoop in if you need her.)

And only a Super Mom has the patience to take a deep breath and count to 10 when you start giving her attitude and she even forgives you when you say things that aren't so nice when you don't get your way.

Super Moms don't wear capes or have X-ray vision; their super powers are much stronger.

The gifts of a true Super Mom are her unconditional love, unwavering support and ability to nurture her children and encourage them to dream and seize life's opportunities.

Super Moms can be birth mothers, grandmothers, adoptive mothers, step moms, foster moms, mothers-in-law and god mothers, and each one deserves to be recognized for their devotion to the children they love.

And so, Happy Mother's Day to the wonderful Super Moms in my life.

My grandmothers have set a high standard for me to live up to and I cherish each moment we spend together.

My mother-in-law is a woman of strength, spirit and feistiness who inspires me (and I don't even mind that my husband will always enjoy her cooking much more than mine).

And to my mom, the model of a true Super Mom, even though our relationship has evolved from Mommy to Mom, you are still the first person I would run to with a skinned knee.

I love you all.

Published by the Welland Tribune May 8, 2009

For the Love of a Dog

"Sometimes when a man's alone all you got is your dog."

Those words were said by Mickey Rouke as he accepted his Golden Globe a few weeks ago for his work in The Wrestler, a movie that seems to have reignited Rouke's acting career.

Rouke has brought his 18 year-old Chihuahua, Loki, on most press junkets and red carpet events. He credits Loki, and his other dogs, for being there and helping him get through the toughest periods in his life.And if there were any doubts about how much Rouke loves his pets, he made it clear when he thanked them during his Golden Globe acceptance speech.

Sadly Loki died in Rouke's arms on Monday. It's obvious that Rouke loved Loki as though she were his child, and in many homes that is exactly what a dog becomes. An adopted baby to an adult, or a loyal sibling to a child.

I was raised with dogs in my life, and when I was 18 I had a baby of my own- the cuddly, fluffy kind, that is.

She was a chubby malamute mix resembling a bear cub more than a puppy, and I named her Teddy Bear.She was a gift from a boyfriend, and after a few years the boyfriend was gone, but I still had Teddy. Too bad he wasn't as faithful as the dog.

When I decided to move a few hours from my hometown to attend Niagara College in Welland I was stubborn and determined that Teddy was coming with me. My mother tried to convince me it would be easier to leave Teddy with her, but my motto was: where I go, my dog goes!

The very first apartment we checked out had a large fenced yard and was within walking distance of school. But the thing that I was most excited about was the large dog bowl left over from the previous tenant which indicated that dogs were definitely welcome here. I triumphantly pointed it out to my mother and she sighed and wrote a deposit cheque.

The first night in my apartment I sat on the floor surrounded by several towers of stacked boxes and started crying. I was in a strange city and alone for the first time in my life. My self-pity party was crashed by my eighty pound best friend. She sat in my lap and gently reminded me, as she licked my tear-streaked face, that I wasn't truly alone. Teddy rested her head on my shoulder and cuddled beside me until I fell asleep that night. When I woke up the next morning I realized that if Teddy had faith in my decisions, then I should as well.

As Rouke says, dogs are more than just pets. Dogs are loyal, forgiving and non-judgemental. Most importantly, dogs love you even when you are feeling at your worst. Just as Rouke's dog loved him. He battled addictions and his career took a nose-dive. But at the end of the day his dog was there for him.

When I heard that Rouke's beloved Loki had died I was empathetic and remembered a snowy December morning just over six years ago.

My husband and I watched Teddy chase snowballs and wag her tail all morning and with her puppy-like behaviour we almost believed for a moment that she didn't have a large tumour deforming her jaw.But the vet arriving a few moments later was a undeniable reality check.

I wanted to take Teddy and run. I wanted to scream and cry. But I couldn't let Teddy down. She had spent ten years comforting and reassuring me. This time I would be there for her.

"You're a good girl, Teddy. You're my best friend always. We love you."

I looked into her brown gentle eyes, and I saw the face I remembered seeing for the first time when I was just eighteen years old; a chubby little bear cub with big floppy ears.

And just as Teddy had been there to cuddle me, when I needed her; I was there to hold my best friend, as she fell asleep in my arms one last time.Only true friends can love you unselfishly, unconditionally and with their entire soul and heart. And the truest friend is a dog.

And if Mickey Rouke does win his first Oscar this Sunday, he may not have Loki in his arms to accept the award, but without a doubt Loki will be in his heart.

Column First Published in Welland Tribune- 2009

Remember Me

“Can I sell this on eBay?” Jaevin, my then five-year-old son, asked me last April. He held a crayon masterpiece in his hands.
“Sure,” I answered. So cute and sweet, I thought. “What are you going to do with all the money?” I imagined him having a goal of being able to buy a mass supply of candy and a lava lamp he desperately wanted.
“I’m going to give it to the scientists so they can fix great-Nanny’s brain so she will always remember me,” he told me as though it were obvious.
My heart jolted and my eyes watered uncontrollably. I looked more intensely at his picture as he described it to me.
“That’s me with Great-Nanny and I am picking a sunflower for her. There’s a colorful rainbow all around us. I just need you to help me spell “remember”, Mommy. I am going to print “remember me” on it so she knows it’s me.”
I was blown away by Jaevin’s compassion and desire to do something so wonderful to help his “great-Nanny”- my grandmother. She has been struggling with Alzheimer’s disease for several years.
Jaevin was concerned about his great-Nanny’s strange behavior and questioned why she sometimes didn’t know who he was or remember what she was doing. We explained that Alzheimer’s was a disease affecting Nanny’s brain and her ability to remember. We also told him that there were special people working on finding a cure for Alzheimer’s, and that research was expensive.
Each summer our family spends a lot of time with my grandparents at the cottage in Fenelon Falls. At moments my grandmother seems like an innocent, child-like girl; a perfect companion for Jaevin. They laugh and watch the ducks and look at her gardens, but he is always protecting her.
This past summer when we were visiting, a man came up to the cottage. My grandmother looked at me and Jaevin and said, “I may not know who I am all the time, but I know that is Jeffrey!” (I hadn’t even recognized him; and it was one of my own relatives.)
Jaevin walked over to the lawn chair she was sitting on, softly caressed her cheek, and said, “I will always remind you that you’re great-Nanny.”
Looking at his beautiful picture I was overwhelmed by his simple gesture of love and desire to help his great-Nanny. I thought we had helped Jaevin cope with Nanny’s disease by explaining it and providing him with the facts he needed, but he had been processing the information for months trying to find a solution. He simply did not want his great-Nanny to forget him- Ever.
Jaevin had heard me talk frequently about making money on eBay, an on-line auction site that allows people to sell and buy items from around the world. I felt somewhat embarrassed that it was a child’s unwavering optimism and innocence that pointed out the potential of raising money on eBay.
I put his picture up on eBay for him with an opening bid of 99 cents, knowing that my husband and I would be the winning bidders, but wanting to encourage his compassion and help fulfill his dream.
However, my husband and I were not the lucky winners of the auction.
Jaevin was interviewed by local newspapers and his auction was covered on national television. He became a mini-celebrity during his week-long auction, and quite a bit of attention was focused on him and his picture. During all the craziness and excitement, he maintained his innocence and truly didn’t understand why everyone was so interested in him and his drawing. He had one, and only one, goal in mind; raising money to fix his great-Nanny’s brain.
When he was asked how much he hoped to sell his picture for, he blurted out enthusiastically, “100 moneys!”
But he received much more than any of us could have imagined.
His beautiful work of art sold for $1000.00!
There were many people who could not afford to bid on it, but they donated to his cause. He received donations as little as $1.00 to as high as $1000.00.The total received (all from complete strangers) was an unbelievable $2600.00; and he donated all of it to the Alzheimer Society.
It was a bittersweet moment when the auction ended.
“Now we can fix great-Nanny!” Jaevin shouted as he jumped up and down with his sister.
“All this money will definitely help the scientists, Jaevin,” I told him, choking back my tears so I would not ruin his moment of glory. “But great-Nanny’s brain won’t be fixed right away. It takes time.”
“No, she’ll remember me now, Mommy. I drew her a picture!” he insisted.
Jaevin presented the winning bidders with the original drawing at an emotional ceremony given by the Alzheimer Society in St.Catharines, but we had scanned a copy for him to give to my grandmother.
He was excited, yet nervous to give her the picture. Fate was on our side because the day he gave it to her, she was happy and seemed like herself. She snuggled him and said, “You’re a good boy, Jaevin.”
And she knew exactly who he was.