Growing Up With an Artist


In the spirit of mother’s day, I’m dedicating this post to a woman whom I have unlimited admiration for (the same woman holding baby me in this photo, and the same woman who hand painted the mural behind us).One of those people who is always there for you; that can edit your work and occasionally gives you unwarranted advice, who knows what temperature to cook foods at when you don’t,  and who should you need her to- can lend an ear to your weekly gossip, just as if she’s your best friend and not a women whose actually 2.94 x your age. Where she may not acknowledge herself for all her accomplishments- where she only sees a few…well, I see a million. I see a woman who wears strength and class equally. Whose resilience and passion and creativity, I am most fortunate to have attained. But don’t take my word for it. Here’s a little glimpse into (if you haven’t guessed it) my mother’s  lifetime accomplishments, to name just a few. She’s a blogger (no surprise where I got that  idea from), an author of a beautiful children’s book, a business owner,  and now a teacher.

One of my favourite things about my mom however, is that she’s a natural born artist
now, mosaic artist. She was that girl in your high school art class that you were of jealous of because no matter how hard you tried, she could always whip off something better. Which meant after high school, she was off at OCAD U and you stayed home to study business management.

Needless to say, growing up with my mom meant that art was always a central part of our life. It meant living in a house with murals instead of solid colours, art hanging on every wall and eating besides thousands of dollars worth of labour (see photo below)


The art seen on the wall is one of my mom’s largest mosaic pieces- the image is assembled from a thousand plus tiny pieces of glass.

If I wanted to paint my room a new colour, she did that AND made another piece to match the paint. The pictures we coloured in as children were more than likely hand drawn, our school projects were always perfect and we ALWAYS had the best halloween costumes. An artist for a mom meant that sometimes we didn’t see her for hours because she was in the studio, or that at any given moment we would have no choice but to follow her on a spontaneous adventure (such as the time we came across a deer skeleton while walking our dogs and she rushed us back to get tools so she could separate the skull from the body, boil off the brains with hot water, and coat it in clear glossy paint to hang it on the wall). You’ll understand what I mean when you scroll down.


Growing up with an artist for a mom, meant growing up with a woman with a zealous obsession for floral prints and jewels. It meant growing up with a woman who has a flower tattooed on her butt cheek and multiple piercings. A compulsive DIY-er who has committed to naming all of our dogs with human names- the current ones are William and Kate, after the royal couple, of course. And above all, a woman whose creative energy has inspired me greatly and brought me to exactly where I am today.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

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