My Mom's Story: Part V - Career Woman

My mother is an artist. I’m not sure many people are aware of this. I think this is because it’s such a natural talent - such a part of her that it doesn’t come up in conversation. It’s as natural to her as walking. No one brags that they can walk. Of course, the difference is that not everyone can paint.

Her medium is water colour and her inspiration is usually scenery. The mountains, flowers, farms, deer were all committed to canvas in a stunning combination of different shades of colour. I would love to be able to dissect and combine colour and light the way my mother does. Actually, I would love to have just a sliver of my mom’s artistic talent. I have been fortunate enough to inherit her creativity but I seem to often lack the finer artistic skill it sometimes takes to carry out my ideas. My mom’s combined talents of creativity and art have given her what we call “The Martha Stewart Touch.” This is evident as soon as you walk into my parent’s house. It’s never mattered how much money my parents had to play with - our family homes have always looked like the covers of magazines. Parties that my mom hosted had handmade chocolates swans and butterflies, animals cut out of melons and napkins folded like origami. When I went into Grade One we were supposed to bring one of our dad’s old shirts to wear when we were painting in art class. While the other little kids were wearing over-sized shirts with the sleeves rolled up, my old shirt had been altered in length, had sleeves with elastics in them, had velcro to replace the buttons and had my name on the front in puffy paint.

I can guess that most of you have drawn the conclusion that she was obviously a stay-at-home mom. You would be correct. My mom did choose to stay at home to look after my brother and me. My parents couldn’t afford this arrangement when I was born so I did spend the first few years of my life at a day care, but luckily this was an option after we came to Alberta. But as any stay-at-home mother will attest it is still a full-time job. Fortunately, my mom was also blessed with above average organizational skills, so I think she probably accomplished more in a day than average. Besides managing our household my mom volunteered, was part of a women’s group and made numerous craft projects which she sold at the local Farmer’s Market. She has also sold a number of her paintings at local art galleries throughout the years.

When I was 13 my mom decided to go back to work. She got a job as a receptionist at a large and reputable catering company. Not long after, the boss realized that her talents and her positive, cheery people skills could be utilized further and she was promoted to a Sales Representative. This usually meant dealing with “bridezillas” while they booked a date, the food and a venue. Customers valued her recommendations on colours, tablecloths and even centre pieces. My mom often went to these weddings personally to make sure the supper went off without a hitch. In 2001, when Edmonton hosted the World Championships my mom was chosen to manage the catering and design all centre pieces and decorations at the VIP Banquet at Fort Edmonton Park. She hired me to be her assistant that night and I got to see her work her magic as she did set up and quality control throughout. At one point she noticed that a dish hadn’t made it out onto the Royals buffet line and when she went to put it out on the table she unknowingly bumped into HRH Prince Edward as he and Sophie were spooning up supper. This will forever be a family story.

When the RCMP informed us that we would be leaving our home to move to Forestburg my mom had to leave her career in the catering industry behind. She had her hands full looking after her two kids. We were teenagers when we were given the decree to pack up and move to the rural town of just over 800 people and we were devastated. At 17, my parents supported my decision to stay in Spruce Grove and live on my own while I finished high school with my friends. However, my mom endured many a teary phone call from me as I related my loneliness at not being with my family. My brother had it harder as he was too young to stay behind, but old enough to know it wouldn’t be easy fitting in to a rural school where he would be the outsider that didn’t grow up there. He was also a star soccer player at a very high tier in Stony Plain. My mom committed to making the two hour drive twice a week with him so that he could continue to practice and play with his team. On top of that she got a job at the popular local deli making and serving meals. Her job became helping her family settle in to its new surroundings and circumstances. It couldn’t have been easy. The years that we spent in Forestburg changed Cam and I forever though. Cam found the love of his life and I made a financial footprint with two careers and an investment in real estate. I also learned that I much prefer rural living to being in the city. I owe all of that to my Mom.

My parents were transferred to Red Deer. Another “hub” as the RCMP calls it. My mom didn’t waste time in getting her resume out. She got a job at the local Winners/Homesense store. The job was the basic cashier/shelf stocking job. Some people may scoff at this because she was too highly qualified. I think that’s the problem with some people these days though. There’s such an attitude of entitlement. People don’t see far enough into the future to realize that what seems like a job “below” your talents or capabilities now may lead to a challenging and rewarding career path. My mom is excellent at seeing farther down the road. She also has such a positive attitude that she makes the best of everything, including the workplace. This attitude and dedication to her job has led her to be promoted three times (at least). Over a year ago the Winners corporation asked my Mom to manage one of their newest stores at Cross Iron Mills just outside of Calgary. She’s achieved the second highest sales in Western Canada after just one year and she’s aiming to be the number 1 store. The big chiefs at Winners have future plans for her as well and are moulding her for her next promotion. Watch for her name, she’ll probably be running all the stores in the country in a few years.

My mom chose to stay home with her kids. She’s moved around the province for her husband’s career. When she decided to re-enter the workforce she started small and worked her way up with determination, dedication and a positive attitude. She doesn’t have fancy degrees or letters after her name but she’s a successful business woman as well as a wife and mother. Not bad for a stay-at-home mom eh?


(Mom and her girls wearing matching "Shelter From the Storm" t-shirts, a charity for abused women that Winners supports. See www.shelterfromthestorm.ca)

There are only two more installments left in this series. Stay tuned!

My Mom's Story: Part IV - Red Serge Wife

Over the course of my life thus far I’ve had the opportunity to chat with many RCMP members. I’ve noticed that it doesn’t matter how long they’ve served, where they’ve served or where they’re from but they all have one very happy memory that some call one of the most exciting times in their lives: the day they got the call to pack their things and ship out to Depot. (Depot, pronounced “Depp-o” like Johnny Depp with an ‘o’ on the end is the RCMP training academy in Regina, Saskatchewan.)

I know that when my dad got his call, a few months after my brother was born, he was ecstatic. I’m sure my mom was excited too, they probably called their parents to share the news and then had some sort of little celebration. However, I’ve wondered now and again how long it took for my mom’s shared excitement to wear off and for trepidation to set in. After all, the phone call meant two different paths for them for the next six months with the same goal in the end. My dad would head off to Saskatchewan for six months where he would live the dorm life with “the guys” learning new things while pursuing his dream of wearing the red serge. My mom’s life would require just as much, if not more adaptation.

I’m not sure how it is now as it seems to change every few years or so, but in the ‘80s the RCMP gave you an allowance while you were at Depot. This fund was really intended to help support the cadet and was not sufficient to support a family on. Depot is also a six-month commitment that requires cadets to live on-site - no family living quarters. This basically equaled two things for my mother. First, that she was going to be apart from her husband, looking after two small children for six months. Secondly, they were not going to be financially sustainable. So, they sold the house and put virtually everything into storage. They sent my cat to live. . .actually, I don’t know where they sent my cat, but he was in Alberta when I got here. . .hmmmm. Anyhoo, they took care of their belongings, my dad shipped out to Saskatchewan and Mom took Cam and I to live at my Grandma’s little apartment in the GTA for six months.

SIX MONTHS! A three-year-old and a little baby in a small apartment with your mother and without your husband for half a year (have you hugged your red serge/army wife today?). This is why I roll my eyes when I hear people verbalize how hard it is to be away from your spouse for even a week. Suck it up Princess. My mom’s a strong lady but I don’t know how she did it. I was three, other than developing an imaginary friend, I was quite content with talking to my daddy on the phone and getting a “California Raisins” tambourine in the mail from him. My brother was a bit of an over-achiever as a baby and he had mastered running before my dad walked through the door again. Now, imagine being in a small apartment chasing around a baby while your three-year-old hammers out a tune on a tambourine and tells you that her imaginary friend has been shot (a whole other story). Wow. She did it because this was the dream. She just had to make it through six months and then her husband would be back with a lifetime career complete with a full pension and benefits and he’d be happy to have achieved what he had been dreaming of since he was a little kid. They could start on their new adventure together.

Adventure is the word. When men sign up for the RCMP they signed on the line saying they will go anywhere they are told in this fine country of ours. For years, their wives have been making the same sacrifices to go with them. Would you be willing to give up everything to follow someone else’s career? I definitely don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying “no” to that question. However, I think it’s incredibly noble to say “yes”. It wasn’t even a question for my mom really. My dad is her first priority and the motto “as long as we’re together the rest will fall in place” was already a way of life. But this doesn’t eliminate the challenges that a red serge wife may face.

We all went to Depot for my dad’s graduation. Then we said good-bye to our family and headed west. Our first posting was Spruce Grove, much smaller back in ’89 than it is today. My mom left her entire family in Ontario. She was very close to her mom and her sister. She also had numerous aunts, uncles and cousins. She sacrificed the security of her home province and having family nearby to come to a town where she knew no one and started a new life, learning the ropes of being married to a Mountie. Being married to a Mountie means miscellaneous things like shift work schedules, firearms in the house and phone calls and visits from “clients” looking for your husband. It can mean being treated with favour because your husband is a policeman and just as equally can mean being treated poorly for the same reason. It means fielding legal questions that you don’t have the answers to and it means being at every one of your kid’s events to tell them that their dad would love to be there if he could. At some postings it means living in a glass house, always under scrutiny and held to higher expectations. It means making friends you can trust and doing it all over again when you’re transferred.

The other thing about being transferred is that the RCMP doesn’t care what your spouse is involved in, where they work, the activities that they’re committed to. They say “jump”. You say “how high?”. My mom’s had to give up jobs that she was already well on her way to turning into a career when the Force said “jump”. But as I keep saying, my mother is a multi-talented and very determined individual. She may be a stellar Red Serge wife, but she’s a career woman in her own right.

To be continued. . .

My Mom's Story: Part III - A Little Family, A Lot of Love

I’ve always found it a bit odd when other women refer to their mothers as their “best friend”. It’s always seemed to me that a mother is not meant to be a best friend. She’s meant to be my mother, you can’t really add to that relationship. To be a mom is too unique, there’s no other relationship that we as a society so strongly value and yet abuse so much.

My mom decided to undertake this somewhat daunting relationship less than three years into her marriage. She and Sandy had been living in a small apartment in Kingston, Ontario. Mom had gone to college and studied a layout and design type of program. However, the year that she finished the program was the year the industry was completely revamped to facilitate new-fangled computer technology. This effectively made her training obsolete. In Kingston she was working at Woolco as a pharmacy assistant. My dad was in a security management position while he waited for his call-up to the RCMP. If I do the math it would have been around May 1984 when my parents would have told their family to expect the first new member on both the McKechnie and James side. My maternal grandmother was thrilled. However, when my parents brought her out to the site of their newest purchase - a confederation aged farmhouse in a hamlet called Yarker, she cried, upset that my father could consider bringing her pregnant daughter to live in such a rundown excuse for a home. She didn’t need to worry - Mom always has enthusiasm for all the projects she undertakes and she and my dad soon DIY’d that rundown farmhouse into a sweet, antiqued home.

Like many couples in their early 20’s just starting out, my parents lived paycheque to paycheque and as they have always told Cam and I, there were a lot of Kraft Dinner and hot dog suppers during this time. They had just had a hot dog supper the evening that my mother went into labour. When she suggested that they go to the hospital my dad wanted to know if it was okay if they finished watching “The A-Team” first. The trip to the hospital was further delayed when the car wouldn’t start. It was the middle of a January blizzard and here was my mom in labour with her first child waiting for her husband and the neighbours to get the car started. The delay didn’t really matter. I’ve never been one to make anything easy on my mother, including my birth. It took another 16 hours before I made my appearance mid-morning on January 9, 1985. My mother has always been ahead of the times in style and although in a very traditional sense I was named after both of my parents, the name they chose - “Alexis” was very modern and unique and a lot of people didn’t care for it. Today, I think it sits in the top ten or twenty of the most popular girls names in North America. My mom has told me that about a week after I was born my dad went back to work and after he left she remembers having an overwhelming feeling wash over her - that she was now completely responsible for this little warm sleepy body for about the next 20 years. Wow. Just writing that makes me feel overwhelmed. I must have not been too scary though because for my third birthday my mom gave me a baby brother. Cameron Allan James was born the evening of January 8, 1988. I remember sitting on my mom’s hospital bed wondering why she was naming him after a camera - he didn’t look like a camera.
It’s quite clear to me at this moment that I cannot sum up my mom’s affect on my childhood in this single post, so I may come back to it in later posts. For now, I would impart possibly the most important habit my mother raised us with which I’m sure she started from the day we were each born.

“I love you”: Mom told us she loved us every single day of our childhood, including when we were teenagers. Whether it was in the morning when we got up, when we left for school, following the debriefing of our latest misbehaviour, when comforting us or celebrating with us or at bedtime, at least once a day my mom told me she loved me.
I never had to wonder. This didn’t necessarily make punishments easier and it definitely did not prevent me from treating her poorly. However, I would never underestimate the power of these simple words repeated to me on a regular basis.

I would say that this practice gave me strength and confidence as a child. Kids might tease me and push me around, but at least I can go home to my mom who loves me the way I am. I’m a bit scared to try out for this team, but whether I make it or not my mom will celebrate with me or encourage me to try again. I’m not sure if I’ll get the highest mark on my essay this time, but Mom knows I worked hard at it and she’s just as proud of me because of that. This assurance in our relationship gave me the freedom to go make a place in the world knowing that she would be behind me all the way and that the words “I love you” would never be withheld from me, no matter if it was just an ordinary day or one of the biggest days of my life.

Back in 1988 my parents had been waiting patiently for one of the biggest days in all of our lives and it came shortly after my brother’s birth. It was the day we became an RCMP family and I think it prompted one of the most noble sacrifices any wife and mother can make.

To be continued. . .

My Mom's Story: Part II - "As Long as We Both Shall Live"

My mother is one of those people lucky enough to be living a real-life love story. I am not being dramatic in the slightest when I say this. Anyone who has spent even a small amount of time with my parents as a couple knows that it’s true. I’ve learned a lot about relationships and marriage from my parents. People have often told me that my parent’s relationship is not the norm. I can’t really speak to that. I can say however, that I’ve decided that my mom’s fairytale marriage is probably about 10 percent Disney magic and 90 per cent hard work, mutual effort and commitment. If you hadn’t guessed from the last post, that slightly rebellious young man was my dad, Sandy. Let’s keep in mind that Mom was only 15 years old which means that as it stands today, my mom has spent more of her life together with my dad than she has apart from him. However, I also want to be clear before I continue that my mother is not simply the sum of her beautiful marriage but that it is a large part of her life and one of the greatest gifts she has given me as a mother. It’s the most natural way to continue this story.


The “magic” part began on January 22, 1977. My parents agree wholeheartedly that this day marked their first date together. However, they also wholeheartedly disagree on what they did. My dad says that they went to a party at his friend’s house. My mom always counters that her parents would never have allowed her to go to a party. She remembers that they went to a movie. This is always a fun conversation to listen to. Sometimes I think that surely one of them knows that the other is right but keeps up the premise just because it’s entertaining. Regardless of what they did their first date it was a success because it was the first of many. My mom once told me that they hadn’t been dating long when she told her mother that she thought he was “the one”. My grandma was skeptical of course - though it didn’t take long for her to accept Sandy as a permanent fixture. My mom has also said that she probably would have married him as a teenager if her parents hadn’t strongly preferred a longer courting period. There were other rules that they were held to while dating.

Curfew. If my dad brought my mom home late she would find all the doors to the house locked. They recall her dad coming to the door in his underwear and glaring at Sandy before letting his daughter in.

The “Sunday Rules”. On Sundays you went to church with your family. Then you could have dinner with one family or the other. You were not allowed to play cards, go to the movies or to parties or bowling on Sundays.

Limited PDA (public displays of affection). You weren’t supposed to hug or kiss or have hands placed on knees etc. Maybe you could put your arm around their shoulders and once in awhile you could hold hands. . .but probably not on Sundays.

My dad believes that my mom made him a better man from the start. She believed in him and supported him and being madly in love has always been a motivator. My dad’s dream was to be an RCMP officer and it was during this time with my mom that he really began making changes to move his life into that career path. My mom knew that she wanted to marry and raise children with the love of her life. After nearly six years of growing together as young adults, weathering their first trials, separations for work and other life events they committed their lives to each other in holy matrimony for “better or worse, rich or poor and in sickness and in health” on September 18, 1982. This promise requires not only love but also maintenance and patience. My parents have been making it look easy for almost 30 years.

A few of the many things I’ve learned about marriage from my Mom

It’s an equal partnership: Marriage isn’t just some all encompassing term for being with your “soulmate” or “best friend” or other goopey-gushiness. It’s not a security blanket or a financial umbrella. It’s not a wedding and it’s certainly not a baby. It’s not meant to always be sunshine, rainbows and pink bunnies. It is a binding partnership with a foundation of love. A partner is defined as someone who takes part in an undertaking with another with shared risks and profits. For my mom this means that in all things she must always work together with my dad. They need to work toward the same goals and they need to share the workload along the way while still playing to each others strengths and weaknesses. There always needs to be room for compromise, changes in the plan and patience and understanding. They succeed together and they fail together. They celebrate each other’s victories and they comfort each other during trials. In everything the effort put forward is equal and the love remains mutual. Love is most definitely the foundation of a good marriage but it’s not necessarily what makes it grow.

Respect: As a kid I remember telling school mates that my parents didn’t fight. Those kids used to look at me like I was completely naive and told me that my parents had to fight, they probably just didn’t do it in front of me. In reality, my parents really didn’t fight, probably because my mom believes in tackling problems head on and not stewing and bottling up emotion. Of course they’ve had disagreements and likely they’ve even had some heated discussions though those discussions never did fall on my ears. In all disagreements though my parents have retained a high level of respect for each other. Now, before I continue on what I know could be interpreted as a debatable topic I would say that I have no intention of judging anyone’s marriage or relationship. Your approach to your marriage is your own and what works for some couples does not work for others. I am only reflecting on what I’ve observed. My parents do not yell at each other, they don’t raise their voices even and they certainly never raise a hand to each other. It’s just not necessary. They believe that when you love someone you want to hear them out, you want to try and understand their point of view and you want to find a solution that suits you both. You think before you talk to avoid saying something you’ll regret later. This might mean walking away and agreeing to talk later but it never means refusing to talk or bottling up emotions. It means respecting your partner enough that your problems with each other are not water cooler topics at work. My mother will never “bad talk” my father in front of anyone. She will never call him by any derogatory names or adjectives and she will never seek to embarrass him in front of peers. It doesn’t matter how mad or frustrated she is. Those type of actions are anti-productive and are ideally not how you should really treat anyone, much less someone you love.

The love is in the little things: One of my favourite memories about my parents is watching them make dinner together. A song would come on like “Lady in Red”. First my parents would start singing it and by the end of it they would be slow-dancing together around the kitchen floor. I knew my parents really really loved each other because of the little things they did for each other. Whether it was timing supper around a hockey game to make sure dad wouldn’t miss anything to picking up a new kitchen gadget or Scottish knickknack just because she knew he would like it, my mom has taught me that actions speak just as loudly or louder than words. Showing that you care is part of the upkeep of a happy marriage. In true “Prince Charming” form my dad loves spoiling my mom. She’s had a marriage filled with bouquets of flowers, “just because” gifts and special date nights.

These are only three things I’ve learned from my mom’s marriage. I know that they work because my parents marriage is quite seriously one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. She’s an amazing wife and partner to my dad and I can only hope that I’ve learned enough to contribute similarly to my own marriage if I’m so blessed at some point.

As I stated at the beginning of this post, my mother is not simply the sum of her awesome marriage. She knows about sacrifice, about making the best of all situations, about being a career woman and most notably to myself, about mothering.

To be continued. . .

My Mom's Story: Part 1- Growing Up in Thornhill

I’m starting this blog for two reasons. The first being that more and more I find I need a writing outlet. I’m inspired by my friends’ blogs and the honesty in their writing so I figured I would give this a try. The second is that its my mom’s 50th birthday coming up and I want to do something in her honour. She doesn’t know I’m doing this and it’s probably best she doesn’t hear about it until it’s done so that she doesn’t put the kaibosh on it out of modesty. My mother is where I will begin. This is not meant to be a biography, yet in order to appreciate what my mother has taught me and how she has inspired me it seems only fitting to look at where she’s come from and how far she has come in her life thus far.


My Mom's Story : Part I - Growing Up in Thornhill

All stories focusing on one’s life seem to begin with the date they came into the world. This seems as good a place as any to start, especially with my mother’s upcoming 50th birthday. My mother was born on July 25, 1961 in Collingwood, Ontario. I won’t go too far into her childhood as I wasn’t there to attest to it and I wouldn’t want to skew another’s memories. However, it seems that she was a curious little kid who was independent and had no inhibitions about leaving her her home and going to visit her grandparents down the street without telling her parents where she was going. She was mature beyond her years and by age six she was certain she was destined to be an only child. Luckily, she was blessed with a baby sister that year who she endeavored to keep out of trouble in the years that followed.
My mom has always had a strong work ethic which I know for certain that she developed growing up in her household. Her parents were from a farming background and they brought that with them to their acreage home in Thornhill, Ontario. There was no sleeping in allowed because there were always chores that could be done around the house and on the property. As there were no boys in the family her dad became an equal opportunist of sorts and made sure his girls were well-rounded in all family tasks. There were no “pink” or “blue” jobs as I’ve heard them referred to recently.
Mom worked equally hard in school. Though she wasn’t one who achieved especially high marks she did excel in art and was athletic, participating in many school teams, her favorite being basketball. Like myself, she struggled in math and also like myself she was bullied and teased about her looks. These two things especially endeared her to me as a child (knowing that she had problems in math but now she paid all the bills and helped me with my math homework and that she was also tormented by her classmates but was now the most beautiful woman I knew). I think it was in these years that she developed her determination. If you want to defeat my mother the worst thing you can do is to tell her that she is not capable of accomplishing something. That’s all the kindling she needs to light a fire and she will burn through any obstacles until she achieves just what you said she couldn’t do. Then she’ll take it a step further and be the best at it too!
Basically, by the time she was 15 years old my Mom was a sweet, mature, independent and well-balanced girl with numerous skills. At this time she also attended and became a confirmed member of The United Church of Canada. That winter her church paired with the nearby Presbyterian Church to billet youth coming from Virginia. Mom of course, in all appropriateness, asked to billet another young woman. However, there were a few local boys there that had come to participate hoping that they could also billet some young American women. One of these boys was the good-natured but more rebellious 17-year-old son of a Presbyterian Church Elder. It was in the church basement that this boy first asked Lee Anne if she’d like to go grab lunch with him at McDonalds. She didn’t answer him. There was another girl named Lee Anne there. She was certain he must be asking that other Lee Anne out.

To be continued. . .