Tag: family
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Memory #11: My sister
I would be remiss to write fifty memories and not write about my sister. She has been my biggest champion, critic, companion, supporter, bringer of snacks, chaos creator, co-conspirator… The list goes on. And on. And on some more. There is no one quite like the great Mrs. Lizzardo (my Dad’s name for her when…
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Memory #12: Texas!
Back in February of 2000, my husband and I had the opportunity to travel to San Antonio, Texas. He was there for a conference, and I got to go along for the ride. At that point in my life, the furthest I had travelled was Toronto and Spokane, Washington – but we’d hit Spokane on…
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Memory #13: Seeing the sights
Last summer, I had the opportunity to take my son to Ontario. While the kid has travelled a fair amount throughout Alberta and British Columbia, other than stepping across the Saskatchewan border when he was two in an interprovincial park, he’s not ventured east. He was excited. As I was already in Ontario, this adventure…
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Memory #15: Just breathe!
My second nephew was born in the fall of 2004. I didn’t have much opportunity to watch him the first year of his life, so when my brother and his partner asked me to look after him for their company Christmas party the following year, I was excited to welcome him (and my older nephew)…
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Memory #16: One in one hundred thousand
Those closest to me might say I am a little strange. Or, they may say I am a little average, I’ve never thought to ask. But one thing they would say is I’m a little bit of a medical mix up. Having written about the surgeries before, I’ve talked about the first three fusions. Today,…
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Memory #20: Gramma’s buns
Gramma moved in with us after Grandpa died. Initially, she moved into my bedroom (and I moved into an open, unfinished space in the basement). The following summer, we built an addition onto the house for her. The “granny suite”. A suite, that after she passed away, all three of us kids lived in. From…
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Memory #21: Growing Up
As I sit in a tattoo studio, watching my sixteen-year-old get his first tattoo, I am reminded of sixteen year old me and my desire to “hurry up and grow up” mindset. I remember my sixteenth birthday vividly. It was the summer of 1990. The day was warm, as most July’s in Alberta are, Mom…
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Memory #22: More Choices
Yesterday, I was speaking about the choices I had to make when I had my son and the things I knew, or thought I knew, for certain, I would “do” with him. Though I had never intended on co-sleeping, after a few failed weeks at trying to transition him to his own bed, I slipped…
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Memory #23: Choices
When I had my son, I had ideas of how things would be. I was so certain. Well, friends, Meatloaf had it wrong. ‘Two outta three’ may not have been bad, and while I did do ‘Three outta three’, the only thing that went “according to plan” was number three. I cloth diapered the crap…
The Voices In My Head 