My daughter’s senior kindergarten teacher was on the line, but she wasn’t asking me to pick Lily up.  Instead she was telling me, obviously very excited, how incredible the improvement that she’s seeing in Lily and her ability to recognize letters.

Happiness exploded from my every pore.

Lily has worked so hard through her speech delay and subsequent difficulties with letters – I can’t put into words the pride I felt talking to her teacher.

After school, the kids and I were playing in the backyard.  Lily went into the house while I gave Jack one last spin on the snow-covered swing.  He made a big-brother-seven-year-old-boy comment about how he could beat Lily in a fight.  I smiled knowing that Lily would be able to hold her own in his imaginary fight.  Still smiling, I leaned down and kissed his nose.  Nodding towards the house I quietly said, “Don’t dismiss your sister.  You should never dismiss anyone but it would be a big mistake to dismiss that little girl in there.”  It was obvious from his expression that he didn’t understand and didn’t want to discuss it any further.  And, I knew he wouldn’t grasp that my words had nothing to do with his being physically stronger.

Maybe it’s because I felt the sting each time someone tried to force words from Lily that she wasn’t able to say yet.  I would deflate with her as I watched her withdraw, not wanting to try for fear of getting it wrong again.  I held my breath when someone said ‘huh, you can actually see her personality now that she’s talking a little’ when Lily was more than three years old.   Maybe it’s all of these things that made me want to scream from the rooftop, ‘do not dismiss my kid!’ after a five minute phone call with her teacher.

Don’t dismiss anyone – each one of us is capable of boundless amounts of awesome.

I have a hard time getting through this video without getting a lump in my throat – this two-minute clip illustrates the vast capacity for awesome we all have.

It’s a new year and, it’s going to be a good one.

I picked up our local paper the other day and was shocked at the doom and gloom contained within it.  For a few moments, I’ll be honest, my stomach lurched as all of the potentially disastrous scenarios played themselves out in my mind, but, with a shake of my head and a folding of the paper I tried to put them out of my head.

I won’t bore you with a resolutions list (I don’t have one), but, here’s what I want 2012 to look like for me.  I am going to remember and share the kindness and beauty that is still present in everyday life, even if it’s missing from much of our media.  I might share videos like this (nature is amazing) or this (seriously I tear every time – it’s ridiculous) or perhaps this (I love this series ‘move’, ‘eat’ and ‘learn’. They make me smile every time).  I will remember that for every person who nearly knocked over one of my children while we were out this holiday season, there were five others who were kind and had nothing but smiles to share.  These are some of the things I will focus on in 2012.

I don’t know what’s in store for this year.  I’m going to do things a lot differently with mocobabies – I don’t know what it will all be or how it will turn out, but, that’s the fun of it.  It’s going to be a year of trying new things –  not just thinking about them.

Ups and downs are an inevitable part of life, but the doom and gloom doesn’t have to be.  I’m going to do better, try harder and live happier – it’s going to be a good year.

To start it off, here is a colouring page for the letter A that I will post on Facebook and twitter – print it, colour it and have fun making the airplane sign and noises!

Do you make resolutions?  Do you revisit the list at the end of the year?

A stranger handed me a coupon for twenty percent off the poinsettia I was about to purchase.  So kind.

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law graciously took over Christmas hosting duties for us  when we weren’t able to clean up some house repairs in time.

And, finally, we received the sweetest note from a neighbour about our sweet dog who passed away this summer. Molly died five months ago and our friend’s note letting us know how much she was still missed gave my husband and I pause to remember and smile.

What little bits of awesome have you experienced lately?

This week, it wasn’t a little thing that served as my reminder of how fantastic people really are:  it was a grand gesture of kindness from a person I follow on twitter.

A woman I have never met before, and only sporadically tweet with, spent over an hour with me on the phone talking about language development and reading in order to help Lily with ongoing letter recognition issues.  Diane Duff (@diane_duff on twitter) offered her time so generously and provided me with so much information that I’m still trying to process it all.

So much of this blog used to be about Lily’s adventure through sign language and her progress after being classified as having a severe speech delay.  Then, for some reason I stopped updating.  My last post about Lily’s progress was back in September of 2010 before she ventured into the world of junior kindergarten.

Diane has inspired me to get back to it.  As I create and make tools to help play letter games with Lily I will share them with you.  I will blog about our progress and touch on the information Diane has provided me.  I can’t repay her for all she did for me on Monday but I can put what I’ve learned out into the universe to possibly help someone else.   So, I hope you’ll check back for free downloads and some game ideas that will be great fun for any child.

Furthermore, building on my last post where I expounded on my love of snow and Christmas, for the next couple of weeks (and beyond?) I will be highlighting something nice that happens during my day.  It’s a small way I can do better by consciously recognizing all the awesome -  even the small, quiet awesome – instead of unintentionally letting myself get bogged down in all that is wrong with the world right now.

TODAY:  three men, early twenties, who were engaged in conversation and goofing around with one another still took the time to hold a door open for me – even offering smiles and a happy you’re welcome! (If you’ve been here before, holding the door or a thank you after having the door held open for you, is a pretty big deal to me)

We rushed to get ready.  Even with the added time necessary for bulky winter gear, we were out the door earlier than any other day this year so they could play before school.  Snowballs were thrown and snow angels were made.  As Jackson opened the car door he said “what amazing luck that it would snow on an early dismissal day!”  I smiled at my rosy-cheeked optimist knowing that when I picked them up at one o’clock they would be bundled, ready for snow forts and toboggan rides.

I love winter.  I love the holiday season and all the magic that Christmas brings with it.   For me, snow, much like the budding flowers of spring, bring with it a sense of cleansing and introspection.   It is such a busy time of year, but somehow the blanket of snow and early fall of night allows for a quiet that isn’t always possible other times of the year.

So, tonight after the children go to bed I will take a break from cleaning and decorating to look out my window, cup of tea in hand. I will allow myself to swim in the blissful quiet, shutting out everything but the good that surrounds me every day.  As I look out into the darkness, the moon’s glow will remind me of what’s truly important in life, just before the screams of domesticity call me back to the vacuum.

Enjoying a special lunch date together on October 19th of last year, Lily stated, “Mom, you never ever go with a stranger.  Even if he says come to my car with me to eat candy.  Never. Ever.”

“That’s right”  I say, so proud of my girl, “what would you do instead of going to the car?”

“Run and scream.  And I’d never ever go with a bear either.  Right mommy?”

“That’s right, never go anywhere with a bear, Lils.”

“I wouldn’t go with a bear. No. No. No.  Oh no.  Or a punkin that yells boo.  Or a ghost.  But definitely not a bear.”

She was so focused.  So serious.  I smiled as she played with her sandwich, brows furrowed, deep in thought,  ”But a witch?  I like witches.  Maybe I could go with her on her broomstick.  Not scary.  I like witches.”  With that she took a bite of her lunch, nodding her head in approval.

So, here’s hoping she doesn’t run into any witches while she trick or treats tonight.

Happy Hallowe’en, have a safe and happy night!

I waved my hands as I walked by (which, in thinking about it, was an exaggerated ‘finished’ sign – so fitting), “Move it guys – get your coats on! Don’t make me ask you again!”

As I climbed the stairs, I heard a tiny, “Because I am not kidding around!” Followed by, “Do you understand me?”

At least they started to move while enjoying their quiet victory, sharing in whispered giggles. I smiled too, silently rehearsing a few new lines – apparently the old ones are too well worn.

While cleaning my desk I found a few forgotten ones at the bottom of my drawer. I found a page, apparently written while in need of a little me time, full of dreams of my perfect day.

Family struggles, pressures and mom guilt all wait patiently outside my bedroom door not making a sound, leaving plenty of room for my butler to come and go as required. I catch up on television shows, geared at an audience over seven years old, on a big screen TV that has magically appeared at the end of my bed. A steaming cup of coffee starts my day and my husband will deliver a pumpkin spice latte later in the afternoon (oh pumpkin spice, I love you).

I have the freedom to stay in bed all day long with not a worry in the world. No lunches to make or laundry to put away. Just me and the precious few I decide to let in for a few minutes…

What does your perfect day look like?

But, I swear Lily did seem just a little taller the next morning.

We dropped Jackson off at school and headed to our favourite park for a special birthday walk.  Watching Lily run ahead to find the perfect leaf for her bouquet of fallen autumn treasures, I thought my baby isn’t a baby anymore.

There were trees towering over us, their leaves gold and crimson, as we played our way along the trail. Whenever there was a moment of silence I would ask, “How old are you today?”  “Five!  …Mom, am I five right now?”  Without fail, she would ask if the moment had finally arrived as if wanting to know the precise moment she should feel different.

Lily stopped in a clearing where the sun broke through the trees and bathed her in light.  She stood still, looking skyward.  I cursed myself for not having the camera to capture the serenity of the moment.  I caught up and we both stood watching as the leaves made their descent, falling to the ground on the wind’s gentle wings.  It was mesmerizing, like watching an intensely colourful slow motion rain-shower.  Lily reached out and took my hand. I couldn’t help but smile.  She may not be that tiny four pound baby that fell asleep on my chest five years ago, but, with her hand still so small in mine, I thought she’s still my baby.