Author: revmummy

My eldest child went to summer day camp today.

Up until last week, she was in daycare – she’s only just 4 1/2 so not in Kindergarten yet.  That begins in September. We thought that summer day camp would help ease the transition from 3 days a week in daycare where they provide lunch and help in the bathroom to school, to where all of a sudden come September these little ones are supposed to be big boys and girls.

And I’m not prepared for this.  We had her in this lovely cocoon of a daycare – Waldorf if you know what that is.  However, we don’t have private school salaries, so she goes to the local school in the fall.  Which is a great school in a lovely neighbourhood with the children of people we really like.

But there is something big about moving from the place that I took her three days a week for three years of her life to this new school.  Not that it was all unicorns and sunshine at the daycare – at the beginning when I left her in the classroom she would be crying and I would be crying and I would call B from the car to tell her all about the crying.  It was hard to trust my beautiful, vulnerable baby to someone else to care for.  School, though, school is bigger.  More permanent.  A serious step away from the cocoon into real life. All of a sudden we have to pay attention to the school day for drop off and pick up, for holiday plans and dentist appointments.

Last night we made her lunch for the day together – and it was lovely.  Choosing the food she would eat, helping her learn to peel the carrots and decide if the ham would be cubed or rolled in little tubes, washing the cherries.  We packed quite a lot of food, but still I worry – will it be enough?  Will she like the little muffins I made? Will she be hungry or bring most of it back?  Will she be ok?

My baby, my first born, is one little step closer to being her own strong, independent soul in the world, which is my job to help her be.  But my momma heart is breaking as my little chick takes a few steps out on that limb toward where she doesn’t really need me anymore.

But today, when she comes home from this grand adventure, there will still be snuggles and cuddles and how was your day, because for now we are still the safety of the nest she needs.  Today I can still make everything better with a kiss and story time is the highlight of the day.  And so I will try to stay present in today.

Or, why the right shoes really matter when learning how to jog.

I don’t run.  I have never enjoyed running.  I avoided any and all sports that included running. It made me angry, and I’m convinced I look pretty ridiculous.

However. God has a twisted sense of humour.

My beloved, B, has jogged off and on for years.  She actually played sports at a provincial level that involved running. Recently she took it up again.   I looked at the closet of nice clothes that are just that wee bit too small and have been for the past 3 summers (maybe more)?  So when B asked me if I wanted to try out the “Couch to 5km” program she’s been doing, I thought, why not.  Might as well try something different. Convinced that I would try it once and remember why I dislike it.

But then I found the right motivation.

Fluevog shoes. Expensive, made in Portugal, Canadian designed shoes.

Originally I had my heart set on these: called Kitschy  Kitschy Boom Boom Liz.

But when they went on sale, I went into the store and try them on…and they didn’t fit. I’ve had foot issues for years now, which means cute shoes are hard to find.

Which is heart breaking. As a “plus sized” girl long before there were cute, affordable plus sized clothes, shoes were the one thing that always fit. Sure, size 10 was hard to come by, but I could always be sure of finding something that was hip or cute or fitting the mood or style of the moment.  Until my feet changed.

I sat in the Fluevog store, trying not to cry while this hip, young, pierced and tattooed man tried to bring me other shoes that might work. And I had to explain to him that although I came in wearing Birkenstocks, please don’t judge me by that. Nothing black or boring or orthotic looking.

Because, these were the motivation to jog. If I complete the couch to 5km program (or lose 20lbs, which ever comes first), I was going to buy and wear a pair of ridiculously expensive, seriously cute, well made and beautiful shoes.  But I couldn’t find any that fit my now slightly deformed feet, so all that hope and motivation and joy about earning lovely shoes was slipping away.

And bless that pierced, tattooed, seriously hip young man’s heart, he kept trying. The last pair he brought me were the ones. The final selling point (other than they fit – with a little stretching yet to come) was the sole.

The text reads “HEY MINSTREL – Your Love Makes Me Sing! Arise! Come! My Darling My Beautiful One, Come With Me”.

So, you see, the right shoes are very important when jogging. Because in a few more weeks, when I huff and puff my way through 5km, I will put on these beautiful, expensive shoes and strut with pride as far as my exhausted legs will take me. Knowing that I earned them.