Bethany Lee is a freelance writer who lives in Orangeville.
As daylight fills the evenings, it’s time to think about our camping plans for the summer. Pretty much every summer since my son Adrian could walk and talk, there has been a trip or two “up north” to do some tent camping.
The Good, the Bad — and the Ugly.
His face was green and his pupils were dilated.
The lights and lasers came on, igniting our optic nerves and setting our brains on fire.
Not kidding. When I was young I got my haircuts when the horses’ manes and tails were getting clipped.
How I imported the Danish love of hygge – doubling down inside with hot drinks, slow cooked food, knitted blankets and other cozy touches – into my life this winter.
How this mom learned to love watching her son skateboard.
We did a lot of nothing. We also did everything. Long days quickly added up to two short months.
Pretty much everybody referred to Jeff as Uncle Buck
I waited for a few minutes at the back, the smells and sounds so familiar, so similar to my own first dance. I can remember it clearly.
We were no longer home and the space sometimes felt like just that – a space.
I enjoy cooking, even short order. It’s a great pleasure for me and one I take pride in.
It’s been a smooth flight. I can’t wait to get there.
Books and sex-ed at school don’t take the place of the parents’ role, or cover every situation.
Over the week we got into some serious battles in the mornings, pushing the time envelope until everyone had to rush off to work and school.
“I like her,” he said, pulling her out from under the deck where the pups were all in various positions and states of sleep in the dry summer dirt.
I am lucky to say that most of the scars on my body are tiny. Each one tells a story, though.
A beach towel. A snorkel. Shorts. Flip-flops. Beach shoes. T-shirts. Underwear. A pair of pants for cold nights. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Sunscreen.