Impatient, once we were.
Patience suited the only option we had.
To wait for God’s precious gift.
Patiently we wait for her birth date.
We patiently waited to know her gender.

Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes turned to hours.
Hours turned to weeks.
Weeks turned to months.
For nine months we waited.
29th January 2012, we got our treasure.

The waiting is but not over.
Now we wait to see her growth.
We patiently wait to see her teen years.
What kind of parent will she be?
Will God’s grace and patience lead us to her grandparenthood?

In the wake of Dawn
She cries and moans
In her womb was a little one
Alas she’s delivered of a son
“Welcome My Boy to the World”

He finds comfort in her warmth and
Finally decides she should be Mom
He looks around with dreamy eyes
Straight into her tear filled eyes
He cant understand what was wrong
But ‘tis her way of showing Joy
“Get Ready for Life Boy…Get ready”

In comes a man who embraces Mom
Carries him up and says praise to God
The way he smiled says he was Dad
He felt so strong to be in these arms
And slept hearing these words twice
“Welcome To Life, Welcome To Life”

The disembodied radio host asked:
If you could live a past experience,
What would you choose?
I searched my far and recent memories.
What would it be?
Some thought ensued...
Then some more.
A week's gone by. Here's why.
Seven days ago...
I'd like, I thought, to bumper-jump
In four inch snow.
Then six days ago...
The tender, innocent, inviting experience
Of my most amazing, surprising and tantalizing
First Kiss.
Then five days ago...
My university years. They happened once.
Then four days ago...
Achieving a pleasing place with my avocation.
Then three days ago...
The first born, second born, third born. Daddyhood.
Then two days ago...
My happy and contented first day of retirement.
One day ago...
A Guiness and a shot of Jameson. Grandahood.
And today?
What would I like to re-experience...
Many more days
Like today.

As Big Tom soaks up morning sun
Mathilda flirts with everyone
Miss Kitty likes her milk from May
While Sandra's Minnie 'gets her way'
Youg Archie: bound to cause a stir
And Hector: rarely did he purr
But Flashy - he's much like our Son
Big boy entrances everyone
So on this morn - as felines trod
Salute the cats of Westbank Quad!

Father, I remember
Back when I was in the kindergarten
Back when I used to ride your back

I remember filling my timidly tender hands,
With a handful of love for you
And today,
I see my hands empty,
With my emptied hands,
And your eyes filled,
I realize, that I have grown different,
From you

Death,
So cruel,
So kind,
Has taken my worries away;
The ones I wished would stay;
Worries, just memories.
I was left with my three,
So they obliged,
Now worries number five.
We know how worries grow,
They start so small, no worry at all,
Then they start to crawl.
We beget,
From their outset,
Worry.

Silently,
Quietly,
I awaken to the world that surrounds me,
Ripped from my dreams,
Not sure what has woken me.
I feel a tiny hand on my arm,
A foot in my rib cage,
These days are numbered,
I know it won't last long.
Already ten and nine,
Where has this decade gone...
I stay quiet a bit longer,
And think of these years past,
There is so much I don't want to ever forget,
I hope my brain remembers it all,
But I find it already getting foggy,
Making way for more memories.
I love them like no other,
They are the best of us,
Thank God.

"Just five minutes more" is the cry.
Playtime has been interrupted by the familiar "hurry up."
Vocabulary common to every parent:
"You've had ten more already. Time to get out."

Why do they insist? My needs never win the battle.
Why is my fun spoilt with this never ending list of demands?
"Oh, it's not fair" is yelled in anguish and responded to by further rebuke.
The severity of consequence based on their ambiguous countdown is increasing;
a thread of the "Thinking Spot" will no doubt soon follow.

A few grumbles are followed by silent protest,
albeit underpinned with a threat of childish tantrum.
It's time for the family meal and this standoff has but one resolution.
Isolated relaxation time is over.

The timetable of the young child at the door demands no less;
the parent must vacate their ten minute bath.