The world is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
I have a problem – with word art.
Last week I went to IGA and almost walked out with five – count em, five, pieces of word art. I slapped my own hand before I got to the register and restrained myself to one. It said:
If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.
For heaven’s sake.
The worst part is, I. Loved. It.
If I get the opportunity to grow old, I will be the crazy cat lady with no cats and one thousand pieces of ridiculous word art. (It could be a Saturday Night Live sketch, if I was clever enough to write it.) At the very least, my kids will tell stories about their barmy mother who never saw a cheesy inspirational quote-on-stretched-canvas she didn’t like.
At least they’ll always know what to get me for Mother’s Day.
I’m extraordinarily patient provided I get my own way in the end. – Margaret Thatcher
Sometimes I’ve wondered if me being sick is harder on other people than on me.
Think about it: have you ever felt it harder to watch someone go through something hard, than to go through that thing yourself?
Six years ago next Monday, I was on my hands-and-knees in the tiniest labour room at MSA General Hospital, wondering what on earth is happening to me and when in the world it would be over, and through the haze of nitrous oxide, I heard my doctor tell my husband that maybe he should take a minute outside.
I giggled. It’s called laughing gas for a reason.
But I wasn’t that surprised that he found it harder to watch me be in pain than to be in pain himself.
It’s something I see a lot in my job. Maternal grandmas get overwhelmed at their daughter’s experience; concerned dads are shocked to realize they had no idea what women went through to do this. Read more