Happy Birthday, Mike!

My wonderful, sweet, kind, funny, nephew Michael has a birthday today.

He and my son have been close since they were babies. They both have two sisters and no brothers and are almost exactly one year apart, so they have become best friends and brothers in spirit.

They moved into an apartment together last month, along with their cousin Matt.

How did Chris and Mike go so quickly from this:

To this:

Sigh.

Happy Birthday Mike! Hope it's a good one.

Damn it, I'm a doctor not Captain Kirk

My little boy graduated from McGill yesterday with a degree in finance.

Somebody please explain to me how he grew up so fast, from this little guy who slept with a blankie and a firefighter's axe (plastic, but nonetheless powerful in our little hero's hands and capable, in his mind, of chopping us out of the house in case of fire during the night) to the man who now stands before me?

(For the story behind his blanket, go here.)

Mothers, listen up. You know how women of grown children always say "pay attention, because those children are grown before you even know it happened"? Well, it happened. And I'm shocked at how it's all over but for the dirty socks under the couch.

Congratulations, boy of mine. We are so proud of you. Go forth and discover the world, but don't forget to come home sometimes. I'll make waffles.

The commencement speech in the morning was delivered by none other than William Shatner.

Chris, however, had his ceremony in the afternoon. But here is Dr. Shatner's speech, for those of you who are fans. (And really, who isn't a fan of The Shat?) According to some accounts, the president of McGill flinched a few times as Bill remembered some good times. Hallmark of a good speech, I'd say.

Enjoy!



And if you really want a treat, check out his rendition of Oh Canada. Then check out behind the scenes. I wept.

My New Favourite Person

I know a mother isn't supposed to play favourites. We're supposed to love all of our children equally, and by extension, our children's Significant Others, yada yada yada.

But I have a confession to make.

I have a favourite. And no, this isn't about Buddy. He's in my bad books right now because he devoured a box of Kleenex in a fit of pique after I left him alone with his anxiety disorder for Two Whole Hours.

See this photo? This is a picture of my Eldest and her boyfriend Chris. Cute, inn't he? And he's smart, kind and good to my girl.

He's also from Nova Scotia, which is reason enough to be in my good books. You see, Eldest is attending an east coast university, and we told her, when she left the safety of our familial bosom for the first time in her young life, that she'd soon discover what her dad and I already knew from experience - that the people out that way are hospitable, friendly, honest, down-to-earth and real. We knew that if she felt homesick or got into any kind of trouble, that there would be someone there to help her out or to invite her over for a homecooked meal and a chat. That the kids she met at school would be good kids with warm hearts. And she found it to be true. I only had one teeny, tiny request.

If she was going to find herself with an east coast boyfriend, could he please be a lobster fisherman.

I don't think that's too much for a Homarus Americanus Fanaticus to ask of her daughter, do you? After all, this is the same mom who stayed up nights with this child when she was ill, read stories to her every night, cooked her favourite, gourmet meals like Lipton Chicken Noodle soup with a beaten egg mixed into it (oh, my wrist aches just thinking of the effort of all that whisking) and I could go on. But I'm no martyr. Why, I'd never use emotional blackmail to force my children into doing the right thing by their mother. I just think that when a mother makes extreme sacrifices for the sake of her children, she does so out of love but also with the possibility that someday one of them, say for example, her eldest darling girl, will make the right choices i.e. find herself a nice lobster fisherman who might send her beloved mommy some leftover treasures of the sea when he comes home from a hard day's work.

She came close, soooo close. She fell for this handsome fellow in the photo, who comes from a house right on the ocean, in a small cove south of Halifax. He even has lobster traps off his dock, apparently, though (sacrilege) he doesn't eat lobsters himself. Well, they seem happy together, so who am I to question a couple of craaa-ray-zy kids in love, even if he hasn't chosen the right path i.e. lobster fishing as his calling in life. C'est dommage. He was almost perfect.

Well, on December 30th there was a knock at the door and I was handed a big box by some FedEx guy who wished me a Happy New Year. It was the size of a cooler, and indeed inside this big box was an actual styrofoam cooler with something scratching around inside.

Yes, the East Coast Boy came through. To my great shock and delight, nestled inside were four, count 'em FOUR big, fresh, LIVE lobsters just waiting for the right woman to boil 'em alive and dip 'em in butter. Youngest declined to take part in the slaughter, but The Boy rearranged his dinner plans to make sure he'd be around for the crustaceous chow down. Were they good? Not even the shells went to waste as they were boiled up for broth.

What can I say other than Chris, you're The Man. Smooches.