There’s one day every year to which Grace counts down with unparalleled shiny-eyed fervour. It’s not Christmas, or her birthday, or the start of the summer holidays, though of course all of these are also proceeded by repeated questioning, date-checking and suppressed thrills.
Her anticipation of this year’s event started precisely one day after last year’s event. On that day Grace drifted dreamily past me, trailing her fingers along the furniture, her mind turning on internal images of the night before. I asked her if she was alright: she barely heard me.
When I went upstairs later to monitor her progress towards bed, I found her at the sink in the bathroom, gazing into the mirror at herself, her tortoiseshell eyes lit with the amber light of her imaginings. As I entered the room she turned to me and said, as though continuing a conversation started much earlier: “… so then, Mummy, next year I can be – .” Read more…
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Where in the world do you live? And, are you from there?
I was born in South Africa and started earning Frequent Flyer miles at a very young age due to the international nature of my Dad’s job. My childhood homes included Connecticut and Milan, Italy (this was when I was too young to appreciate the art of fashion shopping). As an adult, Read more…
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I started running for the first time back in 1996, the same year I kicked a decade-long smoking habit. I knew that quitting smoking would never work unless I supported it with other healthy lifestyle habits. And so, my original goal, the first time I ventured out into the big wide world with running shoes on, was simply to get my butt off the couch and do some exercise.
Imagine my astonishment at discovering that I actually liked to run. By the end of the first month, I was not merely going out to run in order to get exercise and keep my weight down. I was running because I wanted to.
Who knew?
By the time I discovered that I was pregnant in 2003, I was a well-established part of the Toronto running scene. I participated in every event I could get my hands on, my life was all about race numbers and personal best times, and I was in the best shape of my life. I saw no reason why I couldn’t continue running throughout my pregnancy. Read more…
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I seem to have a knack for doing things backwards. Where most people choose a career, go to college, and then get a related job, I went to college, got a totally unrelated job, and then decided what career I would actually like.
Where most people meet a guy, fall in love, get married, and have kids, I met a guy, fell in love, had kids, went through relationship difficulties, fell in love again, and finally got engaged (watch from about 4 minutes). And now, ten years and two children after meeting my soul mate, I am less than five weeks away from marrying him. Read more…
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They said he would never talk, that he would be trapped forever in a world in which language was beyond his reach. He would never laugh and play with other children, he would never understand what his birthday was all about, and he would never feel excited about Christmas.
They told us that he had limited capacity to learn, that as other kids his age surged forward in reading and math and problem-solving, he would inch forward agonizingly slowly, falling further and further behind. Big phrases like Severe Cognitive Impairment were used. He probably wouldn’t make it as far as high school, and he was unlikely to ever hold down any kind of job. Read more…
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On Christmas Day 2005, I was mistaken for Santa Claus. I was pregnant, one week past my due date, and as big as a whale. The previous night there had been unusual activity on the part of the baby, and knowing that our own OB/GYN was on call at the hospital, we decided to go in on Christmas morning to be checked out. After I’d spent some time hooked up to various monitors and gadgets, the verdict was that I should be induced.
I suspect that the baby was fine, but that my hubby-to-be had a quiet pleading word with the doctor (“Pleeeeeeease, Doctor! You’ve gotta get this baby out of her! She’s so big that she’s taking up all the space in the bed, and she’s been behaving like an antichrist for the last two weeks!) Read more…
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There’s one day every year to which Grace counts down with unparalleled shiny-eyed fervour. It’s not Christmas, or her birthday, or the start of the summer holidays, though of course all of these are also proceeded by repeated questioning, date-checking and suppressed thrills.
