Juan Valdez and I, Together Again

Okay I tried. Though I didn't go the glamorous route and check into Promises Rehab Center I did try very very hard to give up coffee.

I had read that coffee plays havoc with hormones. And in the past year my life has been ruled by the roller coaster of peri-menopause. Every morning I would get up wondering what kind of symptom would rule my day. Would I be the cheerful tearful. Would the hot flashes have me stripping down to my underwear. Or would I be so exhausted, just adding two plus two would require a post-game nap.

I also suspected that the two cappuccino's I drank a day had something to do with the twenty something pounds I could not remove.

So I gave it up. For two whole months. I substituted green tea, African Red Tea, iced water...and for awhile it seemed to work.

But then the kids went back to school. Then my business financial year-end hit. Then my hard drive crashed. Then the hormones returned big time. It's been two weeks of nasty headaches, aching joints, cramps, and enough hot flashes to cause a supernova.

Only a cup of coffee would make me feel better. I nice dark espresso, nice frothy milk on top, with a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar. [sigh] Small pleasures.

A Mother's Worst Nightmare

Forgive me, it's been 10 days since my last post. But I have a really good excuse.

Last week my family went out for supper. My eldest son left early. He had arrived by motor scooter and since he only has a M1 license, he has to be off the roads by 30 minutes past sunset. My husband and remaining family lingered a while longer before I left with most of the crowd in my van while my husband rode his motorcycle home.

As we turned off Yonge St onto Sheppard up ahead we saw three police cars and one ambulance with traffic being diverted. I don't know why, but I immediately knew my son was involved.

As I made the turn with the rest of the traffic my mother confirmed my worst fear. My red motor scooter, the one my son had been riding was lying on it's side in the middle of the road.

I then went through the longest five minutes of my life. Trying not to panic with my younger kids in the back seat, while focusing on get back to the accident site ASAP. I hoped I was wrong--perhaps it was another red bike--but knowing deep down I wasn't. I know the accident statistics for motorcycles and I have never prayed so fast.

When finally made it around the corner, I saw a million shards of broken motor scooter scattered on the street in a 25 metre radius. And no sign of my son.

I flew from the car my heart in my throat. A police officer held me back and told me I had to move my car "You'll cause another accident Mam."

Suddenly from the crowd my son, my 6'3" 250 lb baby walked casually over to me. I ran into his arms, too big for me to hold him, and cried. He was alive and despite a couple of scratches on his leg, perfectly okay.

My husband arrived a couple of minutes later. I'd expected a similar reaction from him but he was oddly calm. I later found out that my son had called him right after the accident so he had arrived knowing our son was okay.

How did it happen? My son was at the back of a train of three cars. My son turned his head to check the left lane and move out when the first car, a taxi, did a hard stop to pick up a fare forcing both of the cars following to do the same. By the time my son reacted it was too late to stop and he crashed into the car in front of him.

Thank God there was no car in the left lane. Thank God his helmet worked. Thank God the people in the other cars stopped to help him.

And thank God I still have my son.