my first love

Love is an interesting thing. Looking back on past loves through experienced eyes, you can see clearly the difference between childish crushes and the real deal... but when you're in the thick of it, the all-consuming lust of a new relationship, or the acute longing for someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings can seem like so much more than what they are. The intensity with which I've felt these things in the past has made me feel like I've been in love countless times... and maybe I was, in some way.

The thing is, looking back now and comparing all those feelings against the depth and breadth of my love for The Boy, is like comparing apples to oranges. As much as I may have thought I was in love, I don't think I ever truly was until I met him. I suppose that's why I married him... haha!

The first time I recall feeling I was "in love" was with a boy named Alec. I was six, he was a much more mature and wise seven-and-a-half. We used to play on the swings and the play-structure made of tires behind the complex in which we lived. I remember the way my cheeks would burn and how my little heart would flutter at the sight of his ginger hair and freckled complexion. I was certain that we would be married, and that he, an accomplished musician, along with our six children, would accompany me on my trips around the country as Canada's first female prime-minister (This was pre-Kim Campbell, of course).

But then my wee heart was broken, and my musical-political dreams crushed when we moved out of the complex and I transfered to a new school, never to see Alec again. I still have his second grade school photo in a box of mementos somewhere down in the crawlspace, and I come across it from time to time when I'm looking for something else. The messy inscription on the back still makes me smile.

It's been twenty-one years since I saw him, but I'm sure if I did I would know his face. I wonder if he remembers our time together, and if he still has those ruddy cheeks and mischievous smile?

(re)introducing myself...

My name is Christine.

So. About me... I am from Guelph Ontario. That's in Canada. I have moved around a lot over my twenty-eight years, but chose to come back to Guelph where I now live with my husband and our menagerie of pets.

I am an artist, an activist, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a small business owner, and a lover. The role that I want more than any other is to be a mother. Sometimes the struggles that we (as in, the husband and I) are going through on our journey to parent-hood make me a little crazy. I'm working on that.



Making art is my passion, but I have always been fascinated by business and have felt driven to be my own boss. Sometimes that is not economically feasible. I'm working on that too.

I studied advertising in college. I am a huge fan of nerdy television shows and science documentaries. I love reading, photography, and organic vegetable gardening. I enjoy baking and cooking, and throwing back yard barbecue parties. I enjoy musical theatre, all manner of visual arts, and like to lose myself in music.

I feel like a giant narcissist having written so many sentences that begin with "I".



I know there's no way to adequately describe oneself in a blog post, but I think that summarizes things pretty well. I try to be an open book, so-to-speak, so if there's anything I haven't covered that you're dying to know, just ask!

:)

30 day challenge

I know that I have been neglecting this blog for quite some time, so, in an effort to remedy that I am flat out copying my friend Nellyphant, and doing a 30 day challenge, making myself post something each day. Hopefully that will help motivate me to get back into the swing of things.

Here is what you can expect for the next month:

Day 01 – Introduce yourself
Day 02 – Your first love
Day 03 – Your parents
Day 04 – What you ate today
Day 05 – Your definition of love
Day 06 – Your day
Day 07 – Your best friend
Day 08 – A moment
Day 09 – Your beliefs
Day 10 – What you wore today
Day 11 – Your siblings
Day 12 – What’s in your bag
Day 13 – This week
Day 14 – What you wore today
Day 15 – Your dreams
Day 16 – Your first kiss
Day 17 – Your favorite memory
Day 18 – Your favorite birthday
Day 19 – Something you regret
Day 20 – This month
Day 21 – Another moment
Day 22 – Something that upsets you
Day 23 – Something that makes you feel better
Day 24 – Something that makes you cry
Day 25 – A first
Day 26 – Your fears
Day 27 – Your favorite place
Day 28 – Something that you miss
Day 29 – Your aspirations
Day 30 – One last moment

what's next for me?

”It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and then we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.”
~ Wendell Berry

my three boys

My loves.

<3

making vows

This is from August, but as I am about to embark on this journey with fertility drugs, I feel like it is appropriate for me to revisit the vows I made to my body a while back...

there is a painting

This isn’t an elegant lyric or poem
You will find no rhyme or iambic pentameter
This is only my attempt to forge a connection
With the world around me, with myself.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
A picture screaming to get out
A fumbling journey of self-discovery
An attempt to love where I am in this moment.

I am capable of creating great beauty
Adept at fashioning an elaborate series of masks
I am able to hide the scars on my heart
With feigned confidence and pride.

Stumbling my way through, making it up as I go,
And doing it with style.

I am an artist, I create things
But I am also apt to tear them down
Skilled in the art of self-destruction
Invalidation as self-defence.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
A picture that I must get out
A piece of me that I thrust out into world
My so-called soul, laid bare for your awaited scorn.

Welcome to my neurosis
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

Like, 23 years old, meeting my 20 year old sister for the first time.
Seeing my father’s smile in her cheeks
Seeing the same missing something behind her eyes
Wanting her burden to now be mine.

Somewhere inside me, there is a shy little girl
Who looks at her past through bitter eyes
But she’s getting better at the here and now
And keeps me grounded through this resplendent chaos.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
On the outside, my defiant art.

I hurt myself because it’s against the rules
The exquisite pain of the tattoo gun
The needle tears into my flesh
The mark it leaves, my proclamation to the world.

Having guts does not equal being fearless
Just as shared blood does not equal instant love
But I’m working at forging a brave new me
One picture, one brush stroke at a time.

Dreamscapes & Hesitations

whoa

Apparently, sometimes when you confront a troll, it works!

truth.

"If we don't get lost, we'll never find a new route"
(Joan Littlewood)

in which I talk about happiness

making lists

Endless to-do lists are pouring out of me. I can't sleep. One leg hangs off the bed, bobbing and swaying... the motion comforts me, like a rocking chair and a mother's chest to a fussy infant. This analogy comforts me.

I try to focus on the motion. Focus on my breathing. Clear blue skies. A calm ocean. Anything to stop my racing mind. Can't avoid it any longer. I get up to pee, and instead of heading back to bed I walk down the hallway to my office. And so here I sit, scribbling lists.

I think that if I get it all out... get it all down on paper, then it will leave my mind. If I can actually see the tasks and reminders laid out in an orderly manner that I will be able to stop worrying about all of the to-dos and haven't-dones. I wish this were true.

I want it to stop. I do my best to think rationally and calmly but I can't stop it. It's coming no matter how many calm blue seas I imagine, or what number of breathes I count. The more I push it away, the more rational I attempt to be, the quicker my heart beats.

The panic. My heartbeat is erratic, isn't it? Did it just skip a beat? I'm breathing too fast! I must breathe more slowly. SLOWER! I'm not getting enough air. I have to breathe slower. SLOWER. Deeper. Please! Why won't my lungs cooperate? I'm going to hyperventilate if I keep this up. Why can't I stop? There it is again! My heart! Did it skip a beat, or was that one beat extra? What IS that flutter? Just breathe. Just. Breathe.

Oh god, this is going to kill me one of these days.

my baby sister got married!

We spent the week at her house getting all the details in order, and making sure that all the preparations were properly made. There were many lists, and plenty of frantic phone calls... a few last-minute decisions and changes were needed. Then, Friday morning, I helped get her into her gown, and joked about needing more leverage to get her tied in...


There was a snafu with her planned transportation, so I had to make some quick arrangements with a very helpful, very nice hotel manager in order to get her to the ceremony on time...


She was nervous, afraid of being the centre of attention, so I made jokes, and did my best to keep her tears at bay. Then it was time! Matty looked like such a big boy, proudly walking his momma down the aisle...


It rained through the entire (outdoor) ceremony, but no one complained. They both cried as they read their vows, and a violinist played beautiful music while they made it all official...

They were soaking wet, so happy...


Everyone complied with my silly requests, braving more of the rain so I could get the shots I wanted...


My sister made everyone do the newly learned "shopping cart" with her...


And after all the speeches, the eating and the dancing was done, the boy and I went back to our hotel room and talked about how happy they looked, and how thankful I am that my baby sister has someone like Jon taking care of her now.


<3

my beautiful boy

time-lapsed video of "just breathe"

just breathe

regret

Sometimes I wish there was a gaping void where my conscience lives.

I'll call you when I land.

nobody's mother.

Sunday was Mother's Day.

My father-in-law called from the other side of the world to wish me a happy mother's day. The boy reminded him that I am not a mother, and he replied that I was a mother to our cats and the dog, so "that's something..."

I know he was trying to be sweet, and had nothing but the best of intentions, but it added a piercing blow to my already aching heart.

Whenever people ask me if I have kids I feel my stomach sink a little, and a twinge of grief creeps into my heart. "Oh, your time will come!" they always assure me. Or they casually assume that we can easily adopt, if we wanted to, and I don't care to explain the costs and lengthy processes to them.

We spent the day at my sister-in-law's home with the boy's family. My mother-in-law was there, as well as my sister-in-law's mother-in-law (I know, that's a lot of "in-laws" in one sentence, and reads pretty awkwardly, forgive me!). I love spending time with his family, and playing with our niece and nephew is one of my very favourite things... but all of the mothering, the fussing over mushy cards, the hugs and kisses and celebration of the wonderful relationship that is mother-to-child, left me feeling like I'd been kicked in the gut.

Of course I would never do anything to take away from their day. I enjoy the time I get to spend with the kids, and have some fun conversations with the adults. We share a meal, laugh together, and I manage to maintain a genuine-looking smile when I'm asked, again, when we plan to start our family.

"Soon, we hope!" I answer as sweetly as possible.

It is difficult to fail gracefully. I would like to say that I have become immune to the pain of watching everyone around me having children with ease, but I haven't. I feel like an outsider.

I feel this horrible longing to have what they have, and I feel awful because of my jealousy. I am conflicted and confused. I am so happy for them at the same time that I want to scream out that I DO NOT want to hear about it ANYMORE!!!

I feel selfish and ashamed. I know that I am not alone in this, nor am I the only woman struggling with fertility and procreation... but sometimes it feels that way.

I am nobody's mother. I am incomplete.

Nadia