On what it means to be Calgarian

For all my fellow Calgarians I write this post. You are an amazing group of human beings. We have survived an event that will forever be etched in our psyche. We will always remember this time in our history. What I am referring to is the Flood of 2013. This was a game changer.

I have lived in Calgary my entire life. I have always loved this city but much has changed since I was a little girl. Calgary used to be known as friendly city where we waved to thank the driver behind us when they let us in traffic......we even waved if they didn't exactly let us in. We used to be a city where people would wait far longer to hold the door for the next person than anywhere else I've ever been. We all said please and thank you to clerks at the local store long after it was obsolete in any other city. We were a little old fashioned but being neighborly was part of our identity. We had a common mentality of community and pride in our city. It just felt like a small town here.

When I was little pretty much knew everyone on both sides of our street. We knew their kids, we knew their stories. As the years went by and Calgary went through several boom and bust cycles our little city welcomed people from all over the world. It was almost inevitable that as people melted into our pot, the Calgary mentality blurred a tiny bit. A little good, a little bad, but definitely different. It changed and just didn't feel like the same small city. I still loved it but instead of smiling and saying hello to your neighbors we went from "we" to "me" just a little bit. You may know the name of your immediate neighbor but many of us didn't really hang out with them. They just happened to be the people beside us. 

 

And then the waters came. A flood of epic proportions washed over our city and fear came with it. My own home is far away from the river and in a higher part of the city. And while the kids and I were spared the devastation of property there is a profound feeling of sadness for those whose homes were impacted. And let me say that the word impacted seems somehow so incredibly inadequate. We use that word but it means nothing compared to the sewage filled, disease ridden waters that in some cases rose almost to the second floor of homes. My heart aches for these men, women, and children who once had homes that were their little piece of the world. The place that defined them, that told their story. Dead fish and black mould now fill their sanctuary. I mean, how do you even express to them how sad you feel for them? You simply can't....there just aren't words.

But as the waters receded something no less than a miracle happened. Stories of 4 year olds handing out food. A shelter for teen mothers began to collect cleaning supplies and distribute them to families that need them. Neighbors covered in grey mud slog together to clean out their mangled homes. Complete strangers show up to help knock out dry wall and strip a basement down to the studs because they saw a post on Kijiji asking for help. Armies of volunteers roam the streets until they find someone in need....and it's back breaking labor folks. There is nothing glamorous about it. And yet there are thousands and thousands of "unaffected" Calgarians that can't get there fast enough. We want to do this work.....this disgusting, smelly work that ruins the clothes you are wearing, makes you hurt so bad you can't stand it....yet we are there for one another. Countless companies paying their employees regular wages but allowing them to volunteer wherever there is a need. Lemonade stands popping up to raise money. And landlords waiving rent for the month of July to allow their tenants to get back on their feet despite an enormous financial hit they themselves will take.

Calgary never left, we just forgot how to see it for awhile. We are the biggest small town you could ever find. We may have gotten sucker punched by the Flood of 2013 but we turned around and kicked it's ass. Yahoo!!

Back to my roots

It has been a long time since I loved blogging which is why I had stopped doing it. My friends have been asking when I will write again but I haven't really had it in me.

For those that used to follow me you know that I moved over to a new location. I had felt like I was out growing my space here and wanted to grow into something bigger. The problem....well that new location brought out a few cockroaches. By that I mean people that spam the comments with their stupid ads for different products or they want you to follow their links to get more traffic. It became a full time job to do manage the comments and took the joy right out of it. So I'm moving back in here.

I can't promise how often I'll write but hopefully more than once every 6 months like at my other location.

I will be posting my first "interesting" blog soon.

OMG. My Newbie is showing

So yesterday I told you that I was moving to a new site and gave you the link to get there right? Do you know how sometimes when you move to a new place a few things get lost or broken? Well it turns out I moved to the wrong house (so to speak). My new site also had some of the limitations that I was trying to get away from. So here it is. My all or nothing move. This is the "new" new site.

I promise you that for better or worse I will stay committed to this new site. However I can't promise you it won't drive me bonkers either. Kind of like marriage don't you think?

I have updated the link in my last post but if you were an early adopter of my new location then you might have to update your link again. My photo blog will remain at the same address it's just THIS blog that has changed. My sincere apologies for being a pain in the butt. Once more with feeling......"Follow me I know the way!! Hee hee."

Click here.

Throwing myself off the cliff to see if I can fly.....what have I done?

Officially this blog has been active for a little over 2 years. However it wasn't until about 14 months ago that I started blogging on a regular basis. Okay....so it took almost a year for me to figure out what the heck I was doing. Now you know.

So in these last 14 months my blog has steadily grown. I think at last count I had 36 countries reading it. That astounds me to be honest. I started this as a bit of a kick and figured I'd be lucky if I could just keep a few friends amused.

Now I average about 300 readers a month which is still considered to be small by blog standards. However I am quickly outgrowing this hosting site. I have a little bit of a love-hate thing going on with Blogger. On the one hand you can set it up in a matter of minutes and be ready to go but there are also many, many limitations.

Me on an average blogging night

So I'm putting on my big girl panties and marching over to my new website. It might be a complete and utter disaster but it could be fun for you to watch. The content will be the same stuff you know and love from my insane life. I hope you'll follow me as I make this move.

This site will stay here for the short term but I am also starting on a new Blogger adventure. Yes....here at the same site that drives me crazy some days. I'm dripping my feet into the wild world of photography!! Because of Blogger's limited nature I can't make adjustments to my photo blog without changing this one too. I hope you are just as annoyed about that as I am? What, you don't care? I don't even know you anymore.

If you feel like checking out this new venture as well please do. You'll be my new favourite blog reader. The new site is The Limping Photographer. It will be about my adventures as a student in the art of photography. It will be more of a photo style blog and hopefully less laughing at my expense.

Thanks for an amazing adventure so far. See you over at http://Seriouslycouldntmakethisup.wordpress.com/

The adventures of Some-bunny

I apologize for not writing for a week and a half. I just got back from the "much anticipated" (read dreaded) band camp of which it took a few days to get ready for and a few days to recover from.

Just before we left Camryn announced that she was going to miss Drew and I very much. She wanted us to keep Mr. Bunny (seen above) with us while she was hanging out at Grandma and Grandpa's house. So Drew and I decided that Mr. Bunny should come along on the trip. I think Drew thought it was a good idea so that he would have a legitimate excuse to have a stuffed animal on his junior high band trip...."Just in case".

So these are the adventures of Mr. Bunny....at band camp.

This was Mr. Bunny looking out the bus window. It was a bumpy ride on the way up there. It probably didn't help that the band teacher and the bus driver got into an argument moments before leaving the school. And guess who wasn't on the bus with us because she was driving the U-haul with all the instruments in it? If you said the band teacher you are correct. Awesome right? I swear he swerved so that we would hit every single bump on that road. Oh yah and we even ended up in a snow bank. Let that be a lesson to you kids.....don't piss off the bus driver.

Mr. Bunny finally chooses a bed. We had 6 to chose from with just Drew, myself, and Mr. Bunny sharing a room. Of course Drew also took awhile to pick a bunk. Sometimes you're better off having someone else assign one for you.

Mr. Bunny being naughty while the kids are at their 2 hour band practice. Here he is sneaking into other kids rooms. To be honest I was glad for the company so that I didn't need to sit with the Cult of the Band Moms. Yes I would rather hang out with a stuffed bunny. Um....did I say that out loud? I will say that there was one other mother on the trip that fought assimilation. It was not an easy.

The dining hall where only the finest gruel and slop is served....well that and carrots.....lots and lots of carrots. Even Mr. Bunny was complaining that if he ever sees another carrot in his stuffed life it will be too soon.

Warming up by the fire place in the Fireside room. I wonder where they came up with such an original name? Mr. Bunny (the stuffed bunny) thought it was quite creative. By the looks of that fireplace I guess I should be grateful it isn't called the Lodge Inferno room.

Mr. Bunny thinking about pushing down the Double Bass and blaming it on the kid that plays it. Mr. Bunny kept calling him "the little punk". I tried to explain that he was probably a really nice child whose parents have put in a lot of effort to raise him with wonderful manners and that he's just misunderstood as he goes through the flux of teenage hormonal imbalance. Mr. Bunny wasn't buying any of my crap though. I tried. (This kid really was exceptional to deal with....and keep in mind I work with children who bite)

Drew being a pretty good sport and holding Mr. Bunny (wearing a red parka) the morning before we left. The kids were doing a scavenger hunt so everyone was gathered. As I hand Drew Mr. Bunny for the photo he loudly says "Okay Mom, I will hold my sister's stuffed bunny for YOU. I know my sister will want to see pictures of HER rabbit when we get home". The funny thing is that you can see most of the kids aren't even turned in our direction so he probably drew ten times as much attention by announcing it. He he.

One of Drew's teachers heard his subtle announcement and after all the kids took off running she wanted to borrow Mr. Bunny for some photo opportunities and tobogganing. She had already asked several of the adults and kids and nobody would go with her. She said she didn't want to look silly tobogganing by herself. I didn't have the heart to tell her that taking a stuffed bunny in an over sized dog parka wasn't helping her cause.

And that my friends was band camp....

A decade and a bit later....

I just read another blog that touched me deeply. It was written by a dad whose second son was born the morning of September 11, 2001. You can link to it here. I found it very touching.

It gave me goose bumps as he described what it was like to welcome a child on the day that most people think changed the world and will forever be associated with war, profound grief, and sheer terror. It made me think about my own September 11th moment surrounding my second child, Camryn.

Just a few days before that fateful day I had blissfully been watching my first born, Drew. He was an energetic 2 year old at the time and I was just over 3 months pregnant. I had been feeling relieved that I had made it through those scary first few weeks of pregnancy when miscarriages are the most likely. Life was good and we were enjoying a wonderful day. Sun streamed through the window as Drew played happily on the warmed, wooden floor of our master bedroom. I was folding his freshly washed laundry marvelling at how such a little boy could have such humongous feet. I blame his father for that one. For that short time the world seemed in balance. It was just a few moments later that I realized I had started bleeding. Although I had had some light bleeding during my pregnancy with Drew it had been much earlier in the pregnancy and not nearly as much. 

My heart sank and I quickly rushed to the phone. I remember Drew's sweet little voice in the background as he played unfazed by my sudden action. I tried desperately to flip through the pages of my address book and my hands were shaking as I dialed the number for our midwives. I remember them instructing me that I couldn't stop a miscarriage at this point and that if it was happening there was nothing anybody could really do about it. I'm sure they said something soothing to me but I don't remember any of it. It was like tunnel vision and all I could focus on was that I might be losing her. I can recall the horror that this once perfect day was now a nightmare. I wanted so desperately to do something, anything to make this go away and no happen to me.

My midwives called back in a few hours to see how I was doing. The panic had stopped and I just laid in bed and cried. They had scheduled me for an ultrasound two days later at 10:30am on September 11th. I can still recall the exact appointment time because that is the only thing I thought about for the next 48 hours. To make matters worse my then husband had been scheduled to fly out of town on September 10th. He was working as a medic in the oilfields and would be out in the middle of nowhere without a phone. I had to do this without him. I remember feeling hurt and betrayed by him leaving but in reality we didn't really have the option of turning down a whole month's worth of income. It was with a heavy heart that I drove him to the airport.

The morning of the 11th I woke up early. The truth was that I had hardly slept for 2 days and so I was up at the crack of dawn with Drew. He being his sweet little self was happy to sit and watch cartoons on our local preschool television channel as I ran around getting ready for my appointment.

I would have normally watched the news in the morning but was completely disinterested in anything remotely "real". I was numb and didn't want to hear about the latest person being released from prison or how many car crashes had happened over night. I just wanted to get to the appointment and find out if my baby was still alive.

It was finally time to leave. With a sense of dread I strapped Drew into his car seat and we started on our way. I remember the announcers on the radio talking about a bad plane crash in New York and how a second plane had hit the Towers. It didn't register in my distracted brain that the world had just changed forever. At that moment I didn't get it at all.

I arrived at the appointment and to my utter relief Camryn was still doing well inside my tummy. Whatever had happened hadn't harmed her and it was like the world suddenly had color again. I sat in amazement watching this little heart beat fluttering in the hazy blur of the ultrasound screen. I've never felt such relief in my life. My baby was okay. I hadn't expected that and it was a joyful moment. 

How I felt after the good news

 As the day unfolded I became acutely aware of what was happening in the world. Once again I felt such loss and grief. I thought how can I bring a baby into a world like this? How do I raise Drew and this tiny little baby in such chaos? My mind swirled. I felt so sad for this new little life inside of me to come into a place where anybody could hate someone else so much. I felt guilty that I might never be able to give my children a peaceful and blissfully ignorant childhood. Would I have to talk to them about hiding under their desks when the air sirens blare out or what it meant to be at war? I hoped not.

It was a day of mixed emotions. I didn't know quite how to feel. Joy or sadness? Relief or terror?

And now Camryn's turning 10 in just a few weeks. I can't imagine my life without her in it. Even thinking about it now brings tears to my eyes.

A funny girl right from the start

For me September 11th, 2001 was one of the best days of my life but yet it had such a profound impact on me too. I long for a day that our children could grow up innocent and not have to be surrounded by the evil in the world. But then I just take a look at her lovely, little face and realize that there is such wonder and goodness in this world too. I sure do love that kid.  

To read the blog that inspired this post here is the link again: Becoming a Dad On 9/11

Look who's sleeping now

I've posted before about Camryn's sleepwalking. Andrew sleepwalks as well but he tends to just get up and come to the side of my bed and either stand there starring at me or he will say something I can't understand and go back to bed. Camryn is far more creative. I've discovered her all over the house doing some interesting things. Last night I found her downstairs twice.

The first time she was in the living room. She was crying with socks on her hands. Now sometimes we do put socks on her hands when her skin is really dry. After the cream is on we slip her hands inside to keep the cream from rubbing off. She must have put them on last night in her sleep thinking she needed them. At least I hope so. I can't even imagine any other reason for it. I just take her back to bed and we usually don't see another episode of sleepwalking for weeks.....usually.

The second time she was back down in the living room. I could smell our grape scented detangler on her. She must have stopped at the washroom to spray her hair before coming downstairs again. Not sure why but a girl has to look her best I guess.

Then before bed I checked in on her and she was flopped on the bed as if she had been clubbed from behind falling face first onto the mattress. 

Camryn half on and half off the mattress...with socks still on her hands

A big surprise....she was exhausted this morning. But she smelled like a delicious grape soda. Yum!!

Having a phone is a privilege and not a right

Alright by the end of this blog you will have to decide if I'm an idiot or a genius.

My home was built back in the '70's and so as you can imagine there are some features that aren't really up to code or even practical for that matter. The telephone jack on the main floor is in the wall. There is no phone plate or screws to mount a phone. Just a jack coming out of the wall. So I have a small table below the jack to place my charger for my cordless phone.

So far so good right? Well the only plug in within 10 feet and that doesn't require a cord to go across a doorway or hall is in the stove just around the corner. You know those plug-ins that are right beside the burners? In the 8 years that I have lived here I have avoided any problems with having a phone charger plugged in here. Well not anymore friends.

This is what happens when you aren't paying attention and you turn on the back burner that you haven't used in 8 years.

In my defence I was smart enough to unplug it as soon as it cooled down enough to touch.....which may have led to some of the unusual shaping that occurred. It was pretty soft and gooey. I'm not sure if my cousin Thom who is a fire fighter will be proud that I unplugged it before I started a fire or just shake his head and walk away. If it were me I'd walk away. How ever have I managed to survive this long? Sigh

An alternate universe

I do believe that I must have slipped into another dimension or universe without realizing. My daughter would walk over broken glass for a carb loaded food. But yet for dinner tonight Camryn ate every last bite of her meat....that had a creamy asparagus gravy on it to boot. Like who would have seen that one coming?

And what is even stranger than that.....she took two bites of her mashed potatoes and wouldn't eat the rest. (Insert creepy music here). What the heck is going on?

Exhibit A in the disappearance of my real children. We will refer to this as `Camryn`s plate` your honor.

And for the record my carnivore Drew ate every last bite of his mashed potatoes. Huh?

Noodles: Camryn`s bedtime snack. She`s been returned to me. Phew!!

The Yuck-out factor

I used to work in the restaurant industry. Luckily the places I worked had clean kitchens and dedicated staff. In other words I would have eaten there knowing what it was like. That being said I have seen this kind of sign (below) popping up all over the place lately....

On the paper towel dispenser in the public washroom.

I saw this when I went to a local Starbucks for coffee yesterday. Yes I am the weirdo taking pictures in the bathroom. I have to find my inspiration somewhere.

I would like to start off by saying that I would hope employees didn't need a sign to be compelled to wash their hands. The sign also implies that it is optional for the rest of us. Now let's also assume that there may be some employees who didn't usually wash their hands. Will seeing a sign convince them to change their ways? Sadly, I don't think so. That means that it only serves as a reminder to the customers that Mr. Grubby hands might be serving you a $5 coffee today. Super!! I'm not trying to only pick on Starbucks mind you. I've seen this type of sign at dozens of different franchises.

You also have to love the step by step pictures that help guide you just in case you suddenly forget the steps. It's like you say to yourself "oh soap before washing....and then rinse....who knew?" Really?  I don't even want to think about it. Makes you think twice before being willing to eat or drink at a place doesn't it? Ewwww!!

Love is in the air

So tell me if I'm wrong about this...

The night before Valentine's Day is the one time of your life that you wished your kid wasn't so damn popular. You curse yourself for not starting these impossibly tiny cards a week ago as your child cries that their hand is getting so tired. You just glare at them knowing they've done 3 cards and you've done 30.

Happy post "Hand-cramp day" everybody

What the........?

Both of my kids are taking French in school at the moment. I thought that it might be a good idea to try to expose them to more conversational French in order for them to learn and get better marks. So tonight we watched our DVD of How to Tame Your Dragon set to French instead of the usual English setting.

While the movie was playing I decided to also search the web for fun games for children that would teach French. The very first site I found was this one below. I apologize that some of the images aren't great. I tried to capture the screen but my limited computer skills are shining through.

This one looked intriguing. Kiddies Games? That sounds......Hmmm......no comment.

One of these things is not like the others. Notice what's on the third line? That's right "breastfeeding games". Sounds interesting right? I just had to click it....you know you would have too.

What the hell is this? "Dress the breastfeeding baby"? Have they actually ever tried to nurse a baby? It takes practice and patience. Nobody in their right mind would then try to dress a baby while it was nursing. Those little suckers can bite. And for the record if you did try I promise you it wouldn't be a fun game. More like a whole lot of crying going on. From the mother and the baby. And what is "French dress the breastfeeding baby"? Or "French breastfeeding"? Is that different than other kinds? Those darn French mothers can't just do it the way the rest of us do? Are they too good for us?

For the record I have French in my background. And everybody knows you can make fun of your own people. Vive la France!! Okay....well whatever.

At this point I was very curious to see what these "games" are all about. So of course I click the next link.....

I recognize that this baby may be adopted or this is the wet nurse....but really? I think somebody went and stole themselves a baby. Hmmm. To prove my theory I also found this:

This baby looks a little scared. It's probably saying "Help me, I've been stolen by this Asian lady with the help of that Ginger kid over there". 

I'm all for being inclusive and I absolutely support mother's who want to breastfeed so please don't send me hate mail. I just find this entire site a little bit unusual. Is it just me?

This one time at band camp.....

Today started about as awesome as most of our Mondays. The kids were awake until all hours last night unable to sleep and so this morning was both chaotic and turtle-ish at the same time. I could have lit a fire cracker under my children and I don't think it would have helped. They were just in purposeless morning mode. You know the one where nothing actually gets accomplished even though they are in constant motion.

So by the time I accidentally dumped Andrew's band sheets from his music bag all over the floor I was already a little bit exasperated. That's when one of those lovely notices from the teacher finally surfaced. At the top was "Grade 7 Band Camp". The notice I've been dreading all year. You see last year when Drew was in grade 6 the class went to outdoor school for 3 days. It was a sleep away camp and Drew had never been away from home except for sleeping at his grandparents house. He did okay the first night and then when his best friend Ethan fell apart at dinner on day 2 I got a call from a sobbing Drew. It broke my heart not to drive out and rescue him but I didn't. A huge step for me too. He survived but when he got off the bus he ran and jumped into my arms in the most uncool way for a grade 6-er. He didn't care. That is when he announced that he would never sleep away from home ever again.

That was until he decided to do grade 7 band. I explained to him that all band students would be expected to attend camp. In all honesty I was trying to pursued him not to take band. You see the band teacher and I are hardly friends. I'm not sure when I crapped on her shoe but she has never been nice to me. At band meetings all the other parents rave about her. Umm....hmm. Yah, not getting that. Despite my best efforts to scare Drew away from taking band this year by using his fear of sleep away camp he still wanted to chose it as one of his options. Dammit.

Drew's flute......the bringer of evil

So there I was standing with this band camp notice in my hand and two blurry-eyed children milling about the room. I do a quick scan to see if it can wait. Crap....guess when the mandatory parents meeting for Band Camp was? Last Thursday. Awesome, now I have to reach out and grovel to this women who hates me and probably hates my kid too. Super duper.

So after I dropped Drew off in the front foyer of the school I made my way to the band room. Sure enough she was standing there. She turned and smiled as I came in. I fully expected to see the happy fall off her face....the way it has the last few run-ins...um....I mean meetings we've had. Nope, there she was still smiling. Okay, what the hell? Is the band room booby trapped? Is this an ambush?

So I carefully told her what happened and she was nice, accommodating, and helpful. We chatted about Drew and then it came.....the reason for her sweetness. She asked me to come to Band Camp to help support Drew.

Now I love my kid. I love him a lot. But is there a worse torture than having to attend someone else's band camp? I mean I never took band. And let me take a moment to thank my mother for forbidding me to join band in junior high. At the time I thought maybe she was a bit crazy but now I see the ultimate love of a parent. Such a gift. But never fear. It looks like I'm not missing out after all. So in 4 more weeks I ship out.

You win this one Band teacher.

Well at least he knew to use the bathroom....

This morning I woke up a little early and had to pee. I took a quick peek at the clock and it was 5:00am. I figured if I could just try to get there and back without waking up to much I would likely be able to go back to sleep for another 90 minutes when the alarm was set.

I managed to get down the hall without walking into anything. Perfect. So far so good. I enter the bathroom which is still dark but there is light streaming in through the window from the insanely bright security lights outside so I can see well enough. I noticed something on the floor which my brain in all its groggy glory interprets as fallen leaves. For my long term readers you may recall my adventures in gardening with our spider pant "Charlotte". These "leaves" on the floor are short and a fatter shape than the long thin ones she has. Before too long I realize these can't possibly be Charlotte's leaves fallen on the ground. So what are they?

This is Charlotte

I spend a moment debating whether to turn on the light and wake myself up completely. Of course having a debate about it doesn't help the situation either. So eventually I just flick the light on. Well what do you know? It's poop. Nothing bitch slaps you out of dreamland faster than turds on the floor.

I suspect it was the dog because just two nights ago when I was reading stories to the kids he went into the bathroom and peed against the toilet....must think he's human. Then he proceeded to dig in the cat's liter box and bring one piece of liter coated cat poop into Camryn's room and deposits it on her bed.

Of course I didn't see the dog poop on the bathroom floor last night and he is about the same size as the cats (meaning he'd produce the same size excrement) so unless you can DNA turds then I'll just have to name him my prime suspect.

Looks so innocent....but is he?

Drain Bramage

I got a letter on Friday saying that my doctor had referred me to the Brain Injury Clinic. That's an awesome piece of mail to open up don't yah think? The appointment will take place exactly 16 months to the day of my accident. It's actually scheduled 25 minutes prior to the exact moment......but who's counting?

It's hard to think of yourself as having a brain injury. I guess the idea of your brain as the core of who you really are makes it seem more traumatic say than having a heart problem or a broken leg. I am being sent there because of my ongoing "post concussive" issues. Still dealing with dizziness and headaches. Feeling dazed and tired some days. The good news is while I've continued to trip over objects I couldn't locate in time and space I am thrilled to announce I haven't walked into a wall in months. Woo hoo. I guess this is me getting better! Yay Colleen!!

I'm still hopeful for a full recovery. In my pre-accident days I was fairly active. I played soccer, went skating and swimming with the kids, and generally could get along in the world. I'm getting there. I'm too stubborn not to. Brain Injury Clinic here I come!!

Classroom Superstar

Let me start by saying that I've seen both sides of this fence and so I feel like I can comment on it a little. I mean why not? That's why I have a blog so that I can be opinionated. And here you are stuck reading my drivel. Lucky you!!

Have you ever noticed that there are certain kids who are always chosen for things at school? It's the same select group all the time isn't it? My sweet daughter Camryn basically taught herself to read at the age of about 4. She tends to be a driven child and her older brother Andrew was already in school learning letters and words. She used to beg for me to give her homework too. Learning to read came effortlessly for Cammie and was nothing but fun. Drew had a learning disability and so it was slow going and terribly hard for him.

By the time Camryn entered Kindergarten she was ahead of most of the other children in this area. This made her a natural candidate to read short blurbs at various assemblies and volunteer teas that the school puts on throughout the year. I mean what is more adorable than a 5 year old with ringlets in her hair reading big words while the rest of her classmates pick their noses and lift their dresses up over their heads?

Camryn reading at the volunteer tea in grade 1. She just looks like a star doesn't she?

She also was one of the only kids in her school choir who could belt out a tune and stay on key so she's also gotten to be a bit of a superstar there as well. I have no idea what recessive gene gave her that gift but her dad and I can't sing so don't blame us. All around Camryn has been in the spotlight numerous times at school. Then there is Drew. Not once has he ever been chosen to be the star. He too could sing and keep in key but he doesn't have that so called "X factor" I guess. He's sort of one of those kids that never got to have his moment.

Sure everyone seems to love Drew. His homeroom teacher this year said "If I could have a room full of Drew's that would be the best thing ever". One of his aides says "I love that kid" every time she sees me. A psychologist once told me "He's a once in a career kind of child". It's not for a lack of love that people don't give Drew a chance. It's just that he's not the star.

Camryn also got to present a gift to the school Principal. You can tell how thrilled she is to be touched. Can you say sensory issues?

It may surprise you that I would say it drives me absolutely crazy that Camryn always gets to be the star in her class and in her school. It's not that I don't love to see her shine so brightly because I do. It's just that I know that for every assembly or volunteer tea that there is a Camryn radiating her brilliance that there are also the Drew's of this world that will never get their moment even though they deserve it too. It's the Drew's who need to be celebrated. The Drew's who work 4 times as hard at learning how to read even half as well as the Camryn's ever will have too. It's like praising a lottery winner for being rich and not the guy who worked his butt off to buy a modest little house.

Maybe we need to widen that spotlight a little and focus our attention on the kids left in the shadows. It just might be the only time in their lives that they get to glow a little too.