I take hundreds if not thousands of photographs a month. I have many challenges in which I participate. More than a few assignments. Many reasons to document, pictorially, the events of my kids lives.
I find amid the chaos and crazy of our life that my most vivid memories are the snippets I have no actual photos of ... they are locked in my head. I am sure I'm like many mums, on the camera side of the photo. Unlike the photos, most of my memories have me as a central part of the activities.
I was recently talking to a lovely man who has been integral to my time here in Oakville. He is such a kind hearted and lovely person. He loves me and my kids. No, not my husband, but Cole and Caden's "supplemental hockey coach". The man to whom I took my boys - and even Chloe for a time - to learn how to skate, to learn how to shoot, all the basics of hockey. All the basics of being team members. He was an example of great patience accompanied by great life lessons.
It must be this time of year, but the picture in my head, the one I cannot shake, is that of me with Claire holding a diaper bag and Cole holding his hockey stick walking ahead through the parking lot and me with a double-stroller and hockey bag slung over my shoulder trying to maneuver our way out of the overstuffed van, into the massive 4-plex rink and down to the changeroom - almost always #8, the last one.
(Have I mentioned I had 4 kids in 5 years, and Louis was out of town 5-to-7-days a week for months at a time, er, 7 years?)
Now I look back and shake my head. I find it funny and endearing that others shake their head too. I love that others who were so incredibly kind at the time, are still with me, with great humour, laughing with me about how crazy my life was way back then.
I wish I had a photo.
I'd give anything to have just one.
Proof of crazy! Proof of survival. Proof of great people.
