Cure For Boredom

It Won't be Like This for Long

2012-01-29T19:18:00.000-08:00

This is very much how I'm feeling tonight.
I have been the one, all along, who never really got the "it's all happening so fast" part of parenting. I practically wanted to throw gripe water at anyone who advised me to treasure the newborn days, because they grow so fast. I counted on them going fast- Abby was a colicky mess who nursed every hour and a half. She of course grew out of it, and became a plump baby girl who even learned to sleep predictably and for long stretches. I enjoyed each stage from then on, but never felt that sadness over the passage of time.
Each stage of her life seemed to get better and better. She learned to sit up, she cooed, she smiled, she interacted, the ate solid food, she bum-scooted instead of crawling. Then she turned one and she walked, sang, started talking, stared running, had tantrums, laughed, and could begin participating in activities around the house. Abby turned two and enjoyed swimming, dance classes, playing out doors no matter the weather, painting, colouring, reading books, playing with friends, talking on Skype with faraway family, eating lots, wearing big girl undies, singing and creating.
Tonight is her last night being two years old. This year, she knows what a birthday is and that tomorrow belongs to her. She knows she will be three years old, open presents, eat cake, pick out flowers at the store, eat pizza and be sung to. When I closed her bedroom door tonight after tucking her in she said, "See you tomorrow when I'm three years old!"
It hit me, right in the pregnancy-induced hormones: My little girl is growing up. She's going to keep having birthdays, and keep developing her fascinating mind. She's going to be a big sister, a leader, an independent girl who plays with her friends and tells her mommy to stop singing. She's going to grow into her over-sized toddler head, lose her last bit of baby chub, and grow up.
And now I am a little sad. I know I have made the most of my moments with her thus far. I have stopped to appreciate her, love every bit of her, and be grateful that it was she who made me a mother. But she will never be two again. She will grow to do many more wonderful things and I will love her at three, four and five. Tonight, I will ice and decorate her cake, and check on her in the land of nod, my last night having a two-year-old Abby.

,

Tonight she helped me make her cake. And what a wonderful sous chef she is.

Third Trimester

2012-01-25T08:10:00.000-08:00

I don't mean to give the impression that everything I do and think about is pregnancy-centered these days, because of course it's not. I am thinking about my little girl turning three, I spent the better part of the weekend nursing a stomach-flu sick husband, I have been reading voraciously and cooking up a storm. I feel like I'm living a balanced life but naturally, as I close in on the finish line, my burgeoning belly and dwindling energy levels impact my rhythm. I am slow-moving, heavy-breathing, foot-stomping in my day.
I am not, however, ready to complain. Physically, this twin pregnancy is becoming difficult, and comes with challenges, but I am generally enjoying it. I love being a vessel to these two beings caught in some celestial existence between concept and being. I love that their arrival will follow over two years of waiting, wishing and praying; the dividends to my hope. I love honouring my body for undertaking this momentous task with yoga, good food, ample water supply and rest. As the demands become more present, I am happy to rest, slow down and wait out these last few weeks.
These two babies remind me of their impending arrival by rolling, sweeping and moving around, and it delights me to no end. I love grabbing onto a little limb, feeling a little bum roll from one side to the other. It is a really esoteric relationship. I can feel their presence all the time, and yet they have not inhaled their first breath. They have beating hearts, but their little souls are still in transition from some great beyond to here. I love thinking about this concept. Imagine being on your death bed and having nothing but time to ponder where you're going next; I spend long hours thinking about from where these little beings are coming. It's almost magic, and being the bearer of such magic is really quite amazing.
I have been having some early contractions here and there, and so I am hoping to keep strong and keep these babies growing in their cocoons for another month or so. I am resting with my feet up, drinking tons of water, eating frequently, breathing deeply, and thanking my lucky stars for a patient daughter and husband, who pick up the slack around home. I ampaying attention to the cues to slow down, and hoping that between now and D-Day, I can keep a balanced life.

Nursery Art

2012-01-19T14:57:00.000-08:00

Before Abby was born, there was about a week-long cold spell in the Yukon. It was -45 for days on end. I was cooped up, nesting, and getting ready for what was to come. So, for a few days, I painted Abby a picture for her nursery called, "Play Like a Windy Day." It felt good to create something just for her. It felt wonderful when she was old enough to see it in her room and remark on it happily. It sits now above her reading chair across from where she lays her head down on her pillow at night. It's very special to us, and I'm so glad I took the time to do that for her.
I knew when I became (and stayed) pregnant this time that I wanted to give the same gift to these girls. I had looked on Etsy for nursery room decor and after being turned off by prices, decided quickly that the best art for their room would be homemade and custom. Their nursery has a hand-painted orange bookshelf, a water colour painting of angels by my grandmother, and little touches here and there that I have carefully chosen for their room.
Today I finished painting Baby B's picture, after starting from scratch after not liking my first attempt very much. Both girls now have paintings ready to be hung; paintings I did while leaning over my big belly, thinking of them, dreaming of who they would grow to be.
Baby A's painting is of the sunbeams hitting a simple forest. I call it, "Rays," and I hope she will love knowing it was made just for her.
Baby B's painting is of a bird on the branch of a tree that is just beginning to bud and leaf.I call it, "Spring time," and was inspired by the name we have chosen for her (which is a surprise until she's born) and by her being due on the Spring Equinox. It's pretty and I hope she will like what she inspired me to paint her while she was in utero.
I have also ordered some custom button-monogrammed art for the nursery, from a friend in B.C. who knows the private joy and nervousness of expecting new life after loss. It makes me so happy to imagine her placing each button on the paper, creating something beautiful for each of these babies. When they arrive I will be sure to post some pictures!
We are in the middle of another Yukon winter cold snap, on day six of temperatures below -35. I am getting a little cabin-fevered and I am definitely in nesting mode as I wash teensy newborn clothes, stack receiving blankets, fill dresser drawers and outgrow more and more of my maternity shirts.

Yoga a trois

2012-01-13T20:51:00.000-08:00

Doing yoga throughout this pregnancy has bestowed all kinds of blessings on my life. It has helped my body withstand the rigors of a twin pregnancy. It has centered me and slowed me down when my focus has been all over the map. It has reminded me to breathe deep and trust my body when I wanted to give in to fear. It has made me feel confident in myself again. It has helped me bond with my babies. It has helped me prepare for labour and recovery.
I have stuck with it when I wasn't sure if the pregnancy would even turn out, and continued practicing when I was too tired to do much but breathe. I am so glad that it has become a part of my routine. I don't let more than a couple days go by before I hit my mat after Abby's gone to sleep. I am reminded by my bones and joints to get myself in a downward facing dog, when I especially need to strengthen my body.
In keeping with this pregnancy's overall theme of simplicity and priorities, I have been very happy to have put such a focus on yoga, and keeping my body strong. On days when I practice, and have put away a meal in my freezer, I feel most prepared for the twins' arrival.

Tonight after I heard the noises in Abby's room quiet down, I rolled out my mat and began breathing deep, in spite of the wiggly babies positioned in my ribs. I just smiled. Yoga for three.

Snapshot

2012-01-11T19:17:00.000-08:00

Today's post is purely selfish, and is intended as a snapshot of Abby on the cusp of turning three. My mom reminded me yesterday that I should write the little things down, so I don't forget them. The things she says entertain me highly, and her daddy and grandparents too, because she's just the funniest little lady we ever did see. So for posterity and my future self, this is what Abby is like at 35 months:
- Abby is very gracious and thanks me frequently. I'll never let it be said that the unglamorous aspects of motherhood (wiping snotty noses, cleaning potty spills, making her breakfast before mine) go unnoticed, even at the time. She'll often say, "Way to go, Mama! Thank you for wiping my bum!"
- She overheard Rich curse under his breath the other day when he vacuumed up something he didn't mean to. Now, when exasperated or annoyed, Abby sighs, "For fox sakes!"
- She thinks her last name is Diamond
- She often asks to stay outside climbing snowbanks when I'm ready to go in.
- She loves to take special baths with me, wherein we run the water deep, drop in a Lush bath bomb, and she slithers all over my bulbous belly.
- She gets very offended when another kid hits or pushes her, you'd think she was a sensitive kid. But she gives it, too!
- She loves to play hockey with her Daddy while they watch a game. They use her mini sticks to pass the puck back and forth, and she already has a preferred side to shoot from (right)
- Her favourite things to make the dolls in her dollhouse (or, castle) do are take a bath, go on the toilet, and go to bed.
I am so excited to celebrate her third birthday with her at the end of the month. In the meantime, I am loving every day we get to spend one on one, knowing the chances to do that will get slim as time goes on and twins arrive!

Calm before the storm

2012-01-09T20:19:00.000-08:00

Round these parts, things here have kept relatively quiet. Abby can be heard singing cute made-up songs throughout the day, and we usually have the radio going, but it's relatively quiet. The quiet before the storm, I'm predicting!
I am feeling a major shift in pace. But a couple short weeks ago I could still keep up with life, but now I am definitely being called to slow down. A grocery store jaunt tires me out for the day. I take longer afternoon naps, (even if Abby does not! She adheres to quiet time in her room, thankfully!). I put my feet up as soon as she's asleep, and I can no longer bend forward for any reason. I need a rest after standing at the sink doing dishes, and I definitely need to break up dinner preparation into manageable time slots, because doing it all at once is becoming too demanding. I am a slow-moving freight liner these days, moving with no adherence to schedules.
I am a little discouraged by this, but only because it limits what I can do with Abby, to whom I am still forever devoted to being an involved mama. I know, though, that slowing down and resting more means I am doing my job mothering the two little beings inside, in the in-between souls caught between a world of concept, feeling and finally one day: people. I can feel them getting stronger and bigger every day, and that encourages me. A NICU nurse gave me some more encouragement, telling me that for every day I am able to keep them growing inside, I am keeping them out of the NICU somewhere Outside of the Yukon. That's a good reminder to rest up, eat more, and enjoy this peaceful quiet before our family has two babies in it! My main gsaol is to keep them in until they are strong enough to thrive on their own, without any medical interventions like respirators. I also want to stay in the Yukon, and not have to be flown out early. No, no, no!
I am definitely not ready yet. We have the baby stuff, true, but I am not ready to relinquish my threesome to a five-some. (Quintet, I suppose?) I am enjoying this ease of waking up rested, letting Abby engage in self-directed play scenes while I read or make food. We have a great routine, the weather's been mild enough to enjoy fresh air every day, and we have hit our stride finding peace and comfort in our days.
I can feel the change coming, and I am planting my feet down to ground them. I am preparing to weather the storm before it all calms down again and we find ourselves settling in the dust with a couple new faces in our midst.

Preparing

2012-01-04T21:20:00.000-08:00

The last few days I haven't left a 2-km perimeter from my house. It's been a nice hibernation, actually. I take Skylar into the woods for a walk once a day if I'm feeling up to it, and Abby and I go outside to play in the snowbanks, but we've been staying home. We've now gone the entire new year without spending any money (I like seeing how long I can go having no-spend days), eating homemade meals from my meal plan, and finding fun around the house with stickers, blocks, paints, markers and the new dollhouse. It's been supremely satisfying to feel so self-sufficient, and builds my confidence to see that stuff, money and resources do not a fun mama make.
Abby has been "helping" me make some baking treats and meals to put in the deep freeze every day. I am hoping that after two months our freezer will be full and ready to feed us after the babies arrive. This is my daily goal for the next little while. (Tomorrow I plan to prepare and freeze a quiche lorraine). I feel like I have the necessary baby supplies ready for the twins' arrival, but I have so much more to do to prepare our house, my growing body, our deep freezer, and my soul first.
I have a big pile of books at the ready, so I can force myself to sit, elevate my legs, and rest a little every day, taking in a quiet moment before I enter a phase of life in which such moments may come few and far between.
I have a honey-do list for ever-supportive Rich to work on reducing: tasks that involve physical things I can't handle anymore, and man-jobs that I never like doing to begin with (like cleaning the area around Goober's litter box, blech!)
I ave been wanting to stay home, close to my centre, where there is enough food to satiate my unending appetite. I like being home, getting myself ready for the days when this will be my true sole dwelling, when leaving the house with twin babies is daunting and difficult.
Today, Abby, Rich and I all went outside to shovel the driveway (although some people chose to slide down the snowbanks and dump snow into the driveway seconds after that part of the driveway was shovelled). It was nice to throw snowballs at Skylar, toss Abby deep into the snow, and laugh at my spaced-out footprints in the snow that mark my true waddle walking pattern. My little family of three.
We have plans to break our hibernation streak tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to leaving the house with Abby for a change of scenery, to let her run and play with other toddler toots. I'll bring some hot chocolate in a thermos (and snacks, of course!), and be glad to see adult friends too. All the while, I'll be glad to know my comforting haven awaits, ready to wrap me up for another afternoon nap.

A winter's walk

2012-01-01T12:59:00.000-08:00

Regardless of whether or not everyone's calendars get taken down and replaced with new ones, Mother Nature takes no notice of a new year. It is still cold, still dark, still winter. There are still slopes for Abby to toboggan down with great glee, still ice rinks for Rich to skate on in his stinky hockey gear, still trails for me to take slow waddle-walks on with Skylar. So while the scenery outside my front door is the same, I take great enjoyment from refreshing my own body with cold air breathed in and out.
Into the woods.It is late in the afternoon, about 3 o'clock or so, and already the sun has long since tucked in for bed.

I crunch, crunch my heavy feet along the well-used path, unable to keep up with Skylar who bounds and leaps into snow piles, after chipmunks. I take my time, as my body demands, and notice how even though there are few colours in this palette, there is great detail to be appreciated.

We don't walk far from our neighbourhood; I can't stray too far these days. A quick hike is all I can muster, so instead of marveling at the mountains like I enjoy on the long walk, I smile at the quaint reminders of domestic hibernation around every corner.

We make our loop through the woods; Skylar has found a stick she will keep and bring home, leaving it at the front door. I round the corner onto my street, in front of my house, and return to my cozy hideaway of hot chocolate, couches and blankets for another night north of 60.

Eleven years in

2011-12-31T12:02:00.000-08:00

New Years Eve can bring a crazy cool energy with it, one of restarting, revolutionizing, reprioritizing and seizing the moment. I love that energy. I have ca[italized on it pretty well, having had some pretty great new years celebrations. Nothing, however, tops the one in which I met Rich at a high school house party.
This party was the celebration to end all house parties. There was exclusivity, kegs, drama, lineups to the bathroom, people all over the house singing the chorus to Nelly's "Must Be the Money", makeouts, cops, and property damage.
I lied to my parents to attend, some of our friends bailed, and in the end I went with my best friend and found a guy that, at the time, would be good enough for a new years eve makeout. He was cute, I was young, and I was thoroughly satisfied with the amazing night.
Then he called the next day. And he called again. We went on dates, I kept lying to my parents, we had fights and made up, we had firsts and adventures and things just kept going. Eleven years later, here I sit in our home we bought together, in the Yukon on an adventure, pregnant with our twin girls, and I have no big plans for tonight.
We won't be going to a party, I don't think anyone's coming over, I have no idea what we'll eat for dinner, and I won't be wearing eyelash extensions or a fancy dress.
I don't feel the new years eve energy to resolve any grand behaviour changes. I will probably not have a night for the record books. I have a bottle of sparkling apple juice in the fridge, because tonight, however small, I will celebrate.
We have come a long way and have so much further to go. Tonight marks 11 years together and we'll take time to mark the occasion. But we won't need noise makers or hats or real champagne. I am so, so happy to celebrate the new year's arrival in the crook of his arm, sitting together on the couch.
Rich, I dedicate this song to you today and wish everyone else a happy new year. Love.

Christmas wrap-up

2011-12-29T19:45:00.000-08:00

We had a wonderful, quaint holiday north of 60. I'm a little sad it's over, but happy to have seen Abby's joy, eaten good food, and been surrounded by our northern family. I must say, am I ever thankful for Skype this year. I was heartbroken to have been so far from my family, and this was the second-best way to see their faces and smiles from my living room.
Rich had to work, and though his absence was felt, I was glad to share the day with our friends and my special little Christmas sprite. She loved the doll house Santa brought her (even if she didn't quite latch on to the idea of Santa), and was very gracious in thanking someone every time she opened a gift. I was really glad my surprise gift to Rich ended up truly being a surprise. I'm the worst liar, and even more terrible at keeping my excitement about anything at bay. In a couple of weeks, he'll fly to visit his brother in Alberta and see an NHL hockey game, all because I thought he deserved a treat, and could afford to do it with points. Truly, it made me so happy to make him so happy.
I loved everyone's reactions to our homemade gifts as well.
Abby made some art for her grandparents:
I made some homemade hot chocolate mix in mason jars for our friends, near and far. I made homemade wrapping paper with stamps on paper bags and wrapped the jars in bubble wrap from the bookstore to ensure no jars broke en route! The mix was easy and delicious: cocoa, dried milk powder, icing sugar and cinnamon mixed well.
I also made some body scrub for the ladies in my life. I mixed baby oil with Epsom slats and lavender oil, put it in a mason jar and wrapped it up tight. I tried some out to make sure I didn't scent it too strong and I must toot my own horn and say they turned out great! I only regret I didn't take any pictures before I packaged them up and sent them away!
My homemade gifts alleviated a lot of my holiday money stress, especially with our minivan purchase looming and the extra costs of groceries with this pregnancy and cooking freezer meals over the next few weeks. It may seem trivial, but I know I'm not alone in worrying about money this time of year, so it was nice to find homemade gifts that were appreciated. It was also a very gratifying feeling for me to not use purchases as a crutch to enjoy the holiday and fill the void left by not being with family.
My favourite part of the holiday was coming together with friends to eat food. I prepared some dishes to bring, but it was a really nice break not to have to prepare an entire feast! And feast I did. We had lovely Christmas Eve, Christmas morning and Christmas afternoon meals...and that made me feel truly blessed.
Now, off to bed for me, as we have another ultrasound in the morning. I can't wait to peek at the babes again! Last night, I was able to grab a little knee or foot, and that felt so cool!

Rock that body

2011-12-22T21:37:00.000-08:00

Can I just say how much I love my body right now? It is rocking. Just flat-out smack you upside the head amazing.
I want to wear a bikini everywhere and raise my hands in devil-horns to proclaim my rock-goddess love for pregnancy.
I love when people ask to touch the belly, love transferring some of that energy for a moment.
Love lying in bed, drifting off to sleep while the twins kick and claw their way around their uterine real estate.
I am 27 weeks, up 35 pounds, and my hair and nails are growing so strong these days!
I love that I am getting to know and worship my body so well.*
I started noticing that I was feeling tired, so I upped my iron dose and feel a whole lot better.
I woke up in the morning with extra-stretched out skin after a night of baby-growing, so I made a gigantor breakfast and feel better. Nourished.
My pelvis started feeling like I'd been kicked in the crotch repeatedly with a pair of steel-toed boots, so I do some pelvic floor strengthening exercises, walk outside a little more, and feel stronger.
I take notice that I haven't felt Baby A move much today, so I chugged a glass of purple juice, lay back, and felt baby kicks all over my abdomen.
I had insane-o heartburn tonight so I popped a Zantac, ate a bowl of peanut butter ice cream and felt much less heated in my sternum.
I am loving the call and response relationship I've been having with the blossoming body of mine.
It is comically huge and fast-growing, but I embrace it still as my own.
I have been working away at the nursery and embracing the idea that two babies are joining our family. I spend a lot of time wondering about who they'll be, what they'll like, how different they will become.
I'm not ready for them, and Google tells me they are definitely not ready for the world yet, so I happily incubate away. Rock on, body incubator.

*I do not worship the reflection I get in the mirror when I turn around and look at only my backside, but looking at one's rear wile pregnant is a cardinal sin and I will never commit it!

Silent Night

2011-12-17T21:25:00.000-08:00

Twas the week before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
I am lucky in my days to be able to count on a quiet moment here and there. Abby is growing ever content to play independently, she goes to bed reliably each night, and with Rich working and playing on two sports teams, I often catch myself in silence.
I know this isn't a permanent state. In about three months, I expect a whole lot of noise in my house and I don't imagine a day I find regular quiet moments in large numbers.
I found a quiet evening tonight, and rather than get to work on Christmas baking, or get into a yoga session, I thought that after putting Abby to bed I'd de-robe and soak. Instead of bringing my book in with me, I turned off the lights, lit my mason jar candles and breathed. Just breathed, watched kicks across my belly, and inhaled the lavender smell of a Lush bath bomb.
All is calm, all is bright.
It is dark in my northern town, and outside on the street when the sky fades indigo to black, there's a quiet stillness. The longest day of the year is a few days away, and I feel it. Abby does too, telling me she's tired, taking extra-long afternoon naps. We often miss afternoon daylight outings in favour of resting our heads on our pillows.
The year is growing close to its end. It is dark and cold, calling us to slow down, rest up, breathe slow. I obey.
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Under the Banner of Heaven

2011-12-13T21:38:00.000-08:00

Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I was really excited to see this book on the shelf at Mac's Fireweed Books here in Whitehorse. I love diving into a good true crime book once in awhile, and the raw, gritty prose of Into the Wild and Into Thin Air convinced me Jon Krakauer was able to take me places I couldn't otherwise go. Add that to my recent fascination with Mormon culture and its short history, and I thought this book would be a home run, out of the ballpark win.
Not so.
The foundational storyline of 1984 murders two brothers committed in the name of God intrigued me. They were Fundamentalist Mormons who had gone off the deep end and were commanded by the voice of God (in their head) to kill their sister-in-law and her baby daughter. In this context, Krakauer uses the plot to ask difficult, thought-provoking questions like, 'when does religious enthusiasm become crazy?' Indeed, many religious foundations have stories of man in conversation with God, following revelations and commandments. That aspect of the book, I enjoyed. It challenged me to remove my judgement and really look at what motivates religious seekers and participants to follow a certain faith.
The majority of the book, however, was a slanted interpretation of Mormonism's historical roots. I admit to having been only slightly read in the foundations of Mormonism, and this book helped fill in some holes for me. That, I appreciated. Then, however, Krakauer takes incidences of violence, sexual abuse, polygamy and links them to the founding of America's fastest-growing religion in disturbingly subjective ways. I like being left to come up with my own conclusions, as a reader, and I felt like I was denied that chance with this book.
I ended up skipping page after page toward the end, wanting to move past historical interpretations
of various events to get to the gritty true-crime stuff about the 1984 murders that drew me into the book.
I was overall disappointed with this book, for its content and for the writing. I do come away after reading it with a more substantial understanding of Mormonism's establishment and history, so it was not what I'd call a waste of time.

View all my reviews

Avoiding the headache

2011-12-12T20:16:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty confidant that for most households that aren't rolling in the Benjamins (or Bordens, as they Canadian case might be), December and January are penny-pinching months. We're in the same boat. I planned ahead, homemade many gifts or bought things at discount, used up points and then paid for shipping. I budgeted, stuck to it (mostly) and kept in mind that cold winter months mean double and triple the heating costs for our house. No matter how I finagle the budget and how far I manage to stretch a dollar, December and January are just months where we are left finding ways to make less go further.
I try to avoid putting anything on credit without first having the money to pay it off as soon as the charge appears online. I do put most purchase on my card, because we have a great points reward system. This has meant that I have to be really on top of checking our balances online and anticipating the rest of the month's spending and budget before I go out shopping. (Or stay in, online shopping!) That's not to say we don't go over coffee shop budgets or entertainment, because we often do, but it helps me reign things in during months like December and January.
I wish I could share how I saved money on my Christmas gifts this year, but I don't want to spoil the surprise! I did opt to make our own Christmas cards this year with a stamp I bought on etsy, mass-printed family pictures, and card stock. I think they came out looking pretty decent, and not cheap, which I feared. This saved me about $50 from what I spent on last year's store-bought cards and pictures.
I also am reigning in the holiday purchases this year. No decoration extras this year, maybe next year. I don't need them, even tough it's tempting to run into the beautiful stores on Main Street with their holiday window displays!
I am making all of our meals at home this month, no eating out. No renting movies (there are a ton on TV this time of year), no coffee shops for me (Rich uses them during night shifts to stay awake!), and no online shopping-period! I am trying to have more no-spend days by finding free things for Abby and I to do, and anticipating my (insane) hunger patterns by packing homemade food when we go out.
This has all helped balance the extras that come with cold weather and Christmas spending, so hopefully we don't have a holiday banking headache come January, where I hope to turn my focus to preparing our home for one little girl to turn three and two little girls to arrive!

A Special Day

2011-12-10T19:46:00.000-08:00

Lately, whenever I want to persuade Abby that something is worth being rewarded with, I add "special" as a descriptor.
"Abby, if you clean up all your toys, you can have a special bath with me." She agrees, magic! Then we had a Lush bath bomb bath together.
"Abby, if you show me good listening, we can wear our special Christmas dresses on Saturday." This one actually worked for a couple days this week, so today, we had a special day.
We put on our Christmas dresses and twirled around the house this morning to Christmas music. Then we packed ourselves in the car and drove to a new toy store to see Santa!
She told me she would wave to him and wish him Merry Christmas. All the way there, I stole peeks in the rear view mirror of my little cherubs face and she was beside herself with excitement. She just kept repeating, "Going to see SANTA!"
When the big moment came she walked up to him slowly and said hi and Merry Christmas. She didn't cry when I put her on his lap, but she covered her eyes and acted all shy. He was very patient and kind, of course, and we got a few pictures. He gave her a magic bell and a candy cane, and she was very polite, thanking him and wishing him Merry Christmas again.
She was so proud of herself all the way home, and thrilled to have met Santa.
Our friends came for lunch of hot dog octopuses (octopi?) on macaroni and cheese, which gave us a chance to be home and settled for a bit. It was a busy lunch, but a good catch-up.
Then it was off to the Yukon Arts Centre for a matinee performance of The Nutcracker. Abby was very excited to see "special Christmas dancing." It took a bit of convincing on my part to get her seated and waiting for the lights to dim and curtain to rise, but once the show started, she was in awe.
I totally cried happy tears watching her fall enraptured with the tutu-ed dancers on stage, dancing ballet. She kept turning to look at me, to share a look of wonder. She danced in the aisle; she couldn't help herself. She lasted the entire performace, and when it was over she joined some friends in the lobby to arabesque, battement and saute across the foyer.
We are tired this evening. It was a long day, but we made so many memories. I am definitely starting to feel the Christmas magic.

Keeping it Minimal

2011-12-07T14:15:00.000-08:00

The very nature of being pregnant is to prepare. I have been preparing my body with lots of yoga, lots of food to store for later, lots of water to keep my systems operating smoothly. I have been preparing Abby with visits to other newborns, talks about babies, and involving her in setting up the babies' room. I have been preparing for the birth with my doctors and doula. I have been preparing for the life changes of the first few weeks with freezer meals, and for visits from family.
One thing I have been trying not do is accumulate stuff. When I was preparing for Abby's arrival, the fear of the unknown saw me soothing my discomfort with online shopping. I bought a baby wipe warmer for crying out loud. I bought all kinds of soothers, chairs, toys, clothes and nursery decorations. I had way too much and none of it mattered much as I struggled my way through colic, confusion and finding my footing as a mother.
This time, I am forced by limited space and little extra spending money to really think about what we need, and separate that from what are just wants. You know, even if I wasn't forced to, I would keep things minimal. A (nearly) three-year-old girl in my house has shown me how very little she needs in the way of stuff to thrive.Plus, keeping things minimal is just easier.
We have been given a second infant car seat from friends for the first 7 or so months, which is a great help. We know it has not yet expired or been in a crash. We will need two new car seats for the twins when they grow out of the bucket seats, but that gives us time to save up.
We are not buying any clothes, as Abby's hand-me-down wardrobe is more than enough for two little girls, thanks to enthusiastic grandparents and generous friends.
We are not buying a second crib. These two will share Abby's old one until they can roll, then we will use a second-hand one from a friend. It won't match and this nursery will certainly not be featured in a magazine, but I know they'll appreciate decor efforts more when they're older. If I give myself time to get to know them, their tastes and needs, I can slowly and purposefully gather decorations for their room over the early years.
We have a set of cloth diapers from Abby, small and large. We will cloth diaper these babies too, but we will need more diapers. I have bought a few second-hand and plan on completing a second set with second-hand ones as well. Cloth diapering works for us, is a huge cost savings, and greatly reduces our garbage (and we're limited by how much we can put at the curb every two weeks in Whitehorse).
I plan on nursing, and using bottles to supplement. It is very easy to get carried away with nursing and bottle feeding accessories. From experience, I know a good pillow and chair help, whether they are purposed for nursing or not! I will get a few glass bottles second-hand, and my mom has bought us a great twin nursing pillow. I have a ton of milk storage bags left from Abby, so that covers that!
As for the other stuff (the play mats, bouncy chairs, exersaucers), we're keeping (most) of what we had given to us for Abby, but we're certainly not doubling up. Too quickly does plastic, colourful stuff take over our otherwise basic, comfy home. Besides, not many toys and gadgets can compete with the comfort of a dry bum, warm outfit and being held in somebody's arms. I don't doubt that a tornado of a toddler running around will be invaluable entertainment for these babes.
I know that babies like to be born with the purpose of taking my plans and turning them around, while laughing cute baby giggles. Things rarely go "as planned." But if I spend these weeks preparing for life changes, anticipating out food needs, and knowing I have the very basics for the first weeks and months, I am leaving myself lots of time to really enjoy this pregnancy and reflect on what it means.

Crying all the time!

2011-12-06T09:38:00.001-08:00

I've been feeling very emotional lately. Blame the double dose of hormones, the extra juice that comes with Christmas, and all 5000 km between myself and home. It's made me weepy, sentimental and appreciative of all I have. It's been a balancing act; as soon as I catch myself moping about being far from home, alone for Christmas, I remember how lucky I am to in fact have two people in me and two more people living in my house with me, which is really pretty awesome. Or when I pout about how people at work did not step up to help a coworker in need, I am glad that I could help out and that I do have family, food, comfort and health.
Sometimes, a good cry is all I need to reset the wires and get on with my day.
Today the things that make me so happy I could (and do!) cry are:
- Abby's slimming face, proving that she's getting older
- A friend's baby's perfect little newborn features and soft coos
- A hug from behind and a belly rub from my number one
- Light Moroccan hair oil
- A fruit and snack basket from a caring neighbour
- Forced hibernation during a crazy blizzard
- New Aroma Borealis home-made face and hand creams
- Wrapped gifts i boxes, ready to be thrown across the country to my family
- The recliner, man I love this chair

Making Sense

2011-11-30T20:48:00.000-08:00

Tonight in my house,
I hear... the rattle of the washing machine spinning my whites, the quiet turning of pages as Abby reads books in the dark of her room instead of sleeping, the hum of our furnace kick in, and the deep breaths from Skylar's sleeping snout on the couch next to me.
I see ... the show "Suburgatory" on mute on my TV while I wait for Modern Family to come on, my yoga mat spread out on the floor reminding me that I cannot ascent the stairs for bed until I've done my daily asanas, the blue glow of our Christmas lights through my front door window, and my feet in green wooly socks raised up high in the recliner.
I feel ... warm with all this extra blood and energy coursing through my veins, relieved with the weight taken off of my legs, the ease of running fingers through my perfectly blown-out hair after getting it cut and dried this afternoon, and full after eating second dinner.
I smell ... vinegar after wiping down my kitchen counters, my honey lip balm, and the lingering smell of ground beef after making tacos for dinner.
I taste ... apple juice after drinking a giant glass, the carnuba wax on my lips from my lip gloss.
It's a quiet night with the husband out at broom ball, I just returned from work at the boom store, and Abby is supposed to be asleep, but she just isn't tired yet!

A Smattering of updates

2011-11-27T08:03:00.001-08:00

I've been quiet on here this week, but less so around my house. I've had energy this week, which was a real treat, so while I tried going overboard, I've enjoyed getting out and about with Abby. We've been swimming, dancing, shopping, Christmas crafting, baking and visiting friends. I know this tends to be a busier time of year for most families, but I enjoy the slowing down of the dark, cold months. I anticipate this will become our reality soon enough, so I'll take what energy I have and put it back into my home and family, who provide me much comfort and support during this more-challenging-then-normal pregnancy.
I have been doing some introspective writing and planning. I have been organizing Christmas lists of gifts to make, package and send. I have been writing and addressing friends, starting a written conversation from miles away. I have been waiting for babies to make their arrivals, and starting to plan for the reality of our own babies arriving in the world. I feel increasingly as though they could come really soon, or maybe in a long time. The uncertainty is exciting.
I met with our doula this week and that got me really happy and excited for the day we get to meet our babies, and a lot of peace about the preparations to get there. I definitely feel as though I have a lot to look forward to, and a lot of goodness to keep me serene and satisfied in this moment.
This morning, Abby was up super early, so we're watching Barbie Swan Lake in our jammies and taking it easy on a lazy Sunday, on a cold Yukon morning.

Yukon Made

2011-11-20T21:26:00.000-08:00

After a week's worth of fluffy snowfall we fell quickly into our first cold snap. It's been -35 and colder the last few days, keeping most of us indoors. Admittedly, Abby and I have become a little squirrely with the cabin fever. So, the other day we warmed up the car, put on our long johns. and headed out to the Yukon's biggest craft fair, Spruce Bog.
Abby wore her princess dress, much to the delight of many of the senior citizens in attendance. One was so taken by her dancing and dress that he gave her a bird ornament he had hand carved. And thus begin Abby's lessons in how to get ahead in the world based on cute curls and a smile.
I went knowing I wouldn't have much time, given Abby's attention span and the difficulty of bringing her to a craft show where she could look, but not touch. How difficult for a tactile toddler! So I bought the Christmas gifts I set out to get, remembering which crafters were there from last year. I did buy a few things for myself, and though not very exciting, they're practical. New hand -knitted dish cloths. Be gone, stinky baby face cloths!I'm not one for buying lavish or extravagant things for newborns, but I did get the girls (my baby girls!) fur headbands from my fir crafting Faro friend Kara. I am very excited to take pictures of them when they are a few days old, and squish them all together Anne Geddes-style. And can you imagine how northern and cute they'll be in these?
It's still cold out there, and we're still largely hibernating indoors while the thermometer dips lower, but I'm glad to have got some Christmas shopping and some Christmas crafting out of the way. (No pictures of that or hints, you might be getting one!)

The Weather Outside

2011-11-16T14:11:00.000-08:00

The scene out my window for the last week, steady, has been busy and white: Continuous fluffy snowflakes falling, falling fast. We've seen about two feet of snow fall, giving Rich a reason to grumble about shoveling the driveway for the eighth day in a row, and having to put up Christmas lights while snow slides from the roof into is ever-freezing face. Abby couldn't be more delighted, and asks to go outside just so she can fall in the snow until her face is pink. I am quieted by it, restricted by immobility to either walks in the woods or sitting, watching Abby play. It makes me smile big to watch Abby's joy, or Skylar chase snowballs, or Rich throw Abby in a snowbank to cries of, "Weeee!" I feel like an observer, and sometimes that's a nice pause for reflection.
I've been going through a big pivot of perspective lately. Whereas once I thought my days at home with Abby (cooped inside by blizzards, no less) were busy, hectic and demanding, I now find pockets of quiet everywhere. I think about how easy it is, how independent Abby is becoming, and how quiet the house seems sometimes. I imagine the cries and giggles and shrieks that will fill it in the years to come, and know that a future version of me will think those days are busy, hectic and demanding.
I am pregnant with change, as every pregnant woman is. Only now that I have brought a baby into the world and watched her grow big and strong, I know how big those changes are. I am, to use the cliche, in the quiet before the storm, but a satisfying one.
The quiet is almost unsettling, because I know these are my mama years. The years spent amidst noise and clutter and things to do. I welcome the chaos that three daughters will surely bring. I look forward to it. I want holes in the walls from play that's got out of hand, and barbie shoes strewn throughout my adult belongings. I want ponytails and glitter glue and smashed bananas as a sign of continuous life and bustle in my house. I want that craziness before these girls grow and move, and my house will be quiet again. And I'll think back at how lucky I was to have had busy, hectic, demanding days with my daughters.
I am waiting out this blizzard with patience; it can stay as long as it wants, really. I have enough Ovaltine and marshmallows to last.

21 weeks in, 20 pounds up

2011-11-13T21:31:00.000-08:00

I'll be the first one to tell you that weight gain in this pregnancy is not a negative concern for me. I have always had trouble gaining, and so I'm trying hard to make sure I gain enough to support a twin pregnancy and the ability to nurse them afterwards. I will say though that I am keeping a close eye on it, to make sure the numbers keep going up.
I usually don't worry much about checking the scale, but since being pregnant I am checking it weekly, making sure the gain is steady. I think I'm gaining weight at a good pace and in a (relatively) healthy way. I eat a lot more, period, and I do eat a lot more breads, cheeses and sweets than I do not pregnant. I also make sure to get a ton of the building blocks in me: milk, meat, fruits, veggies and whole grains. So, suffice it to say, no one needs to worry about my weight gain.
I've been so fixated on making sure to gain weight, rest up, carry on with home duties and eat regularly, that it has caught me by surprise how different it is to actually carry extra weight. With Abby, I gained 25 lbs and already at 21 weeks this time I've gained 20. My doctor assures me this is great, and I feel like I'm doing a good job to support my babies' growth. (Right now they each account for one pound!)
I still have quite a ways to go, but I am feeling the need to slow down much earlier than I did with Abby. After a day on my feet, my leg muscles feel like they used to after a long distance run. They are accommodating extra weight and loosened joints. I have to sit down when I get tired or else my belly tightens with braxton-hicks contractions and my pelvis feel like I've been kicked. Twenty extra pounds is heavy!
I'm having a hard time relinquishing and sitting down when I know there are things to do, or when Abby wants me to dance with her (again!). I spent so many weeks sick at the beginning that I don't want to go back to being dependent, tired and helpless. But my body sends such clear signals, and I know it's all relative and short-term, not to mention what my babies need.
I also get time to slow down and feel immense gratitude for a husband who takes such an active role in this pregnancy. I think last time it was all a little foreign to him. And now, we've been on such a difficult road to achieve this, he sees how lucky we are every day. He is so helpful, and almost reads my mind knowing when I need water, when to eat, when I need to sit down and rest. He's amazing and it makes me love him so much more, feeling that involvement and support.
So there's my 21-week update. Now it's time for bed, me and these baby girls who kick-kick away.

Book Review: Nickel and Dimed

2011-11-08T14:11:00.001-08:00

Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America by Barbara Ehrenreich

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I can't remember who recommended this to me, but it took me a while to find. It has been on my list because the idea of a skilled print journalist going undercover, into the trenches of workers who are paid minimum wage, and being challenged to live off a meager wage is enticing to me. I also wondered if maybe I could find some tips! Not that we live on minimum wage, but that maybe the book would impart some lessons in minimalism.

Boy was I wrong. This book did not serve as a "how-to" on surviving on minimum wage. During the course of her experiences working as a diner waitress, hotel room cleaner, seniors home waitress, Wal-Mart employee and maid, she did not live well. She often had two jobs at a time, ate nutritionally terrible meals (often because she could not afford lodgings with fridges and stoves), was physically exhausted, and was forced to quit several times when she ran out of money.

The degradation she suffered, the terrible illnesses and physical injuries her coworkers worked through (because they couldn't afford even a day off), the unsafe living conditions she could barely afford painted an ugly and depressing picture.

Her clear and clever writing serve her well in dispelling many of the assumptions she had previously made about workers fresh from welfare: they make poor choices, they eat terribly, they waste money on drugs and booze. She writes that in her experiences, she worked among extremely hard-working people who often gave their employers far more than $7/hour was ever worth, for fear of having to find another job, relocate, or go on welfare.

I came away from this book with an incredible depth of gratitude for the education I have. I also am grateful for the living situation I've been afforded not because my family members made better choices than anyone else but because hard work through many generations has led me to live a little easier than did the last.

I also appreciate the great lengths and personal sacrifices the author went through to maintain a level of objectivity and authenticity. She could have tapped into her savings account numerous times for that "one leg up", i.e., just to get one night's dinner or just to get one safe apartment. She didn't, and that tells more than her words ever could in the condition of the working poor.

I highly recommend this book to anyone-- there is a lesson in it for anyone, from any walk of life.

View all my reviews

Sugar and Spice

2011-11-05T20:28:00.001-07:00

Thank goodness for little girls. We are preparing ourselves for a house full of sugar, spice and everything nice after learning Friday that I am cooking two little ladies!
As soon as the imaging tech put the goopy stuff and the wand over my belly, I saw a flurry of arms, legs and giant round head orbs squiggling around. It looked as though someone had shaken up a bag of body parts and then dropped them all in a pile. Or, conversely, like a crazy orgy going on in me. Seeing my twins at 20 weeks was amazing, almost surreal. We stared at them as the tech measures femurs, heads, hearts, fascinated by the miracle of beating hearts and growing bodies in there. After over an hour of ear-to-ear smiles, wonder, and captivation, we finally learned it was two girls in there, much to my surprise!
We are both so excited. We know a little of what to expect with girls, and I am so curious to see how different each of my daughters grows to be. It is starting to settle in what kind of a life I have in front of me: daughters, three of them, growing up together under our parenting and guidance. How overwhelming and at the same time, how wonderful!
I just keep staring at these pictures, rubbing my belly, and sighing deep with a smile, thinking of the little girls that will be joining our family.

What was equally as joyful was seeing how healthy they were. Both measuring the same (meaning one isn't taking food from the other), both with strong heartbeats (146 and 150bpm), both hearts looking great, hands opening and closing, bodies bending and straightening, and seeing them interact with each other was so relieving. For the first time, I feel very confidant this is real and is happening.
20 weeks and so so happy about it!

Oh, I am blessed!

Halloween: The year my kid got eaten alive

2011-11-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, this year on Halloween, an angry pumpkin ate my daughter. Perhaps it was because she so gleefully emptied out its innards the day before yelling, "pumpkin brains!" Or maybe it was because she tossed its seeds with salt, baked them and them ate them all up yelling, "pumpkin beans!" Thankfully, I received a replacement child for the evening, only she came with some peculiar appendages. Like a dorsal fin.
She was not a dolphin, as the label indicated. She was a ferocious shark who made sure to correct every delightful door-opener who cried out, "Ooh! A penguin!" and "Ooh! A dolphin!"
She accompanied me for an hour of trick-or-treating and after about two houses got the hang of things: Say trick or treat, rudely grab candy from stranger's hand, shove it in bag, say thank you and heave ho to the next house.
This kid looked so small next to the big kids in pirate hooker costumes (worn over snowsuits, because this is the North), and her voice was so soft among a crowd of eager candy-eaters. It made me feel like maybe she's not growing up too fast after all, this makeshift replacement daughter for the evening.
This morning, all was right, and the pumpkin spit out my little girl. He had returned her to bed where I found her this morning, looking out her window to spy on our backyard neighbours and whatever program they were watching on TV.
I have been fulfilling my duty of treat quality control, making sure no potential choking hazards in the way of candy make their way into Abby's mouth. It's a rigorous, demanding job, but I'm making great headway today.

Also: Check out my guest post at my friend Eliza's blog Over the Moon. Then continue reading her witty insights and hilarious Internet finds every day!

Promises and suprises

2011-10-29T13:51:00.000-07:00

I surprised myself greatly today. Nothing about its beginning started off out of the ordinary. I woke up first, to little baby kicks, and got breakfast ready with Abby. We ate second breakfast (snack for everyone else), painted, made muffins and got dressed.
Then I wanted to start the nursery. Today.
We got to work re-arranging Abby's bedroom first, to fit in a new reading chair from the nursery catch-all room. The scene was: stuffed animals and blankets thrown around the floor, naked Abby jumping in the piles, me in the doorway pointing my finger and Rich moving big, heavy furniture around. With Abby's room re-vamped, the nursery was cleared out.
Midday sun shone in on my blank canvas. I set up my rocking chair, bedside table and lamp in the corner, and began letting myself imagine a scene of nursing two squiggly babies back to sleep. I put blankets, cloth diapers, books and crib sheets in the closet. Come Friday, I hope to know if I'm decorating for boys, girls, or one of each.
I left the nursery at that: empty with a rocking chair, table and already-there bookshelf. I finally felt a little surprised and overwhelmed with what I had just done.
I had begun making concrete plans for these babies. These babies that grow and kick stronger, that have no names, that put me to sleep with a smile on my face. I have told Abby they're coming, and let her hold a friend's newborn baby. I fell in love, felt my heart grow three sizes, watching her gentle manner and awe, stroking a newborn baby's head. I didn't want to let myself see such beauty until I felt confidant I could deliver on my promise to give Abby a sibling.
Now, I am making lists, setting budgets, paring down to necessities and becoming excited to welcome the reality of two little bodies into our family tree.

Winter's darkness

2011-10-24T21:04:00.000-07:00

As I sit down to write this, I have just finished a peanut butter banana sandwich at 9 p.m. and I can hardly think of anything but the insatiable desire for nachos. I've put 15 pounds on my frame, and my belly is creeping up my torso and into my ribcage. I am leaning back in my chair because if I sit up straight, I am short of breath and feel crunched up. I am so amazed by how fast these changes are coming, and the increasing demand being put on my body. I am ready, I am even excited, by how much work I have to do.
I have waited and begged, and pleaded to be here. I have spent long, dark nights awake asking when and why. I am here, and I am quietly grateful, sitting back rubbing my belly.

It's winter here. A time of darkness, introspection, the mourning and death of summer vibrancy as everyone settles in to hibernate. Time to slow down, be present in the simple joys of folding Abby's little girl laundry, baking bread, stirring soup on the stove. It makes me think about saying goodbye to the business of warm sun and long days. It also makes me think of sad times, because winter is just a forlorn season.
This all makes me feel so joyful and thankful, this winter. I reflect on the sadness I've felt before, the darkness, and am so glad to have put it away. I won't ever forget it, and it makes me feel so much more grateful for the wonderful gift I know is on its way.
Babies are such miracles, and not just for the biophysical chances of egg meets sperm and successfully divides. The nine months a mother gestates, plans, worries and smiles at baby kicks is a miraculous time, and that is never far from my mind.

It's Ya Berfday!

2011-10-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

Today was my birthday and it was spent in such a way that ringing in 26 was enjoyable and exciting. I had a day doing whatever I wanted with my little family and our northern friends, and I go to sleep tonight feeling very blessed.
I woke up to a quiet, dark house, first out the gate. This is how I like it, and sleeping in is nearly impossible with my insatiable appetite. I started making some waffles and slowly everyone else woke up and joined me. I took some excited phone calls from faraway family and friends, opened up kind emails, cards and messages from friends, and started my day feeling like I'd won a popularity contest. What nice friends I have, and I feel like I have so many nice ones! More than I feel I ought to get.
Later in the morning, my little family went to the local history museum, where Abby capital L LOVES to look at all the taxidermy animals of the north. Caribou, moose, bison, eagles, owls, bears, she knows how to name them all and loves them so.
Then we went to Starbucks for my free birthday drink and celebratory cake pops, and we cuddled at our table, our family of three. I love going to cafes, chain or otherwise, with my family. A well-enjoyed drink and snack on an unrushed day is the epitome of happiness to me.

I went out again on my own in the afternoon and reveled in a Sarah Harmer live program on CBC radio in the car. I had birthday money burning a hole in my pocket so I went to a store at which I already have a discount and bought myself a beautiful pair of locally-made beaver moccasins. I have really wanted a pair for awhile, but it wasn't a need, and that's how we budget! But I always ensure that birthday money for Abby, Rich or myself is rightfully spent on gifts--things we wouldn't ordinarily get for ourselves. I am so happy with these!
Later in the day, I Skyped with my parents and happily opened some Laura Secord chocolates from my brother (you can't get them up here!), some comfy wool socks, Roots sweatpants (the epitome of comfort), Lush bath bombs, gift money for a new shop vac (I am super excited about that one!), a movie, candies, and nice cards.
For dinner, we went to Pizza Hut with friends and our young kids. It was a little chaotic, and hopefully comical to anyone sitting near us (and not irritating!) but I loved the energy of kids, the treat of good food, and great company. Unfortunately, two of my close girlfriends couldn't come because of bed rest and baby delivery recovery, so I visited them later with cake. I had to ensure my day was shared with everyone about whom I care a great deal!
I came home to a Lush bath, started my new birthday book, and am now going to ease into a satisfied sleep to the soft rhythm of kicking babies.
Oh!--I also treated myself to a lovely new necklace from etsy. You like? I love!

Thrifty Mom

2011-10-17T19:32:00.001-07:00

Some may call me thrifty, my husband calls me cheap. And not like a cheap hooker who drinks Alize wine, but cheap like no, we can't buy another XBox game this year, tough.
It's a good balance between the two of us though, because he ensures we have the comforts of life at a reasonable price (if Alienware computers make you comfortable) and I make sure we have enough money allocated to feed an increasingly starving pregnant lady while still heating our home.
Having our second and third babies means I am well prepared to steer clear of the crap I don't need. I'll admit, it was fun online shopping for little whatsits when I was expecting Abby. I was a sucker for anything I thought I absolutely needed (like a baby butt wipe warmer), and went to town when our budget had more room. This time, though, our budget is smaller, we have the unplanned purchase of a minivan in the coming weeks and we know what we can do without.
I'm getting pretty good at second-hand scores, a feat I've practiced with Abby. Save for one present from us at Christmas, every toy or movie I've ever bought her has been second-hand, or given to us second-hand. For these babies, I'll be looking for second-hand glass bottles on Kijiji Ottawa (then my mom can bring them up), a second-hand twin nursing pillow, second-hand cloth diapers to expand our set for two, and swaddle blankets (the kind with the velcro that make the babies look like they're in straight jackets).
There are a few things we'll need new, things I don't feel comfortable with getting second-hand unless they're from people I know. We'll need another infant car seat, and I'm hoping to buy one second-hand off a good friend before we have to shell out the big bucks for new, big car seats the babies will use for years. I'll also get a new stroller, unless I find the model I want second-hand. (We're looking at the MEC jogging stroller and getting an infant insert for it if you see one!). We'll need a second crib eventually, and I'll hope to get one new, but if pennies need pinching, that can be second-hand too. Then there's just extra crib sheets and wash cloths, which really aren't expensive.
If we end up with a boy or two we'll need new clothes, but that's where grandparents step in. Honestly, I haven't bought any clothes for Abby save for the odd novelty T-shirt here and there. And Abby's almost three!
We're also paying for a doula, who will help us prepare my body, our home, our relationship and some food before the babies arrive, as well as helping during labour and postpartum. This is an extra cost, but we have put a lot of thought into this and feel it will be well worth the extra cost.
I'm not worried about what two babies will cost us. And that's a nice place to be in, as delivery day gets months closer. We'll budget for car payments after not making any for over two years (which was a blessing!), and we'll allot money for the few things we'll need extras of. Otherwise, the costs I foresee come in the form of larger grocery bills as I grow to the size of Mount Logan, and then afterwards when I'm nursing two growing babies and trying to feed myself.
Stay tuned for more installments of thrifty mom: how I pare down what we "need" to ensure we continue eating in a warm, sheltered environment! Five mouths is a lot to feed!

Winter's Here

2011-10-14T13:43:00.000-07:00

It's winter again. For sure this time. I hauled out all of our parkas, mitts and boots and put away our sandals and rain jackets. The fuel truck came by and filled up our oil tank, I shovelled the driveway, and came on from outside to warm up with a hot chocolate. I'm usually let down when winter arrives, because it's like accepting a punishment you don't want. Winter can be a really, really long lecture up here, and I don't always want to sit through it.
This year, I'm not bummed. Abby friggin loves winter. Every morning I hear her peek out her window and yell "snow!" She gets so excited to see snow all over Whitehorse when we drive around on errands. She stays outside for a good half an hour after I've come in for hot chocolate and promised her some. She just loves rolling around in the snow with Skylar and her toys.
It's an uninhibited, pure joy, her love of snow. She has an absolute ball playing outside, and I love it more too. I love throwing snow at each other, making snowmen, throwing snowballs at Skylar, falling down, crawling around, for as long as my energy keeps up.
If this is what I have to look forward to for winter, count me in.
I also have a major reward towards the end of winter, with the babies being due the first official day of spring. I can hibernate and grow until then, counting down until the day we can meet them.

Until then, I can keep enjoying the perks of winter with my little snow fairy.

Eating for Three

2011-10-12T14:35:00.000-07:00

So I went to the nutritionist (or dietician, as her office sign said), to get the low-down on how well I'm eating, and to see how much of what else I need. I went in thinking I was probably doing okay, but that she'd tsk-tsk all my sweets and junky snacks. I was all ready to tell her I usually champion clean eating and make a meal plan around whole foods at meals, but it wasn't necessary.
"Sarah," she told me, "you are eating just fine." All I need to worry about is eating when hungry and making sure to get adequate servings of all four food groups every day. Nice. She even applauded my evening snack of half a Kraft Dinner package.
"What a great way to get grains and calcium before bed!" she said. Stellar!
She told me to forget eating 3500 calories a day. I'm not Michael Phelps and forcing food down the hatch as I gag is no way to enjoy a pregnancy. She told me to keep taking my iron pill, and definitely to scope out a steady supply of moose meat. Otherwise, my daily salty chips (havent shaken that habit yet) and chocolate bars are still A-OK.
It's strange, because usually I'm all over healthy eating, but now my mission is just to keep eating anything and everything. I don't notice whether my systems function better on a particularly clean eating day, like I used to. I just notice the feeling of blood sugar dropping and an urgency to eat anything in the immediate future.
Winter is coming (or it's here, if the snowy scene outside my window is any indication), and that means that access to affordable, plentiful, colourful produce goes down the tubes. This is OK, we'll be just fine with frozen produce and the occasional splurge of $8 for a small carton of strawberries. I am very happy to know that a hibernation shift to eating more breads, soups, roasts and heavy-sitting comfort foods is on its way in.
I still give myself a nice pat on the back for my green smoothie every couple of days, take my prenatal vitamins and drink a big cup pf chocolate milk most days, so I know there's no real cause for concern. Like anything, it's nice to be validated, nicer still by an expert.
So now that I'm just about at my halfway point, I am glad to report I'm up 10 pounds, getting round in the belly, butt and face, and feeling pretty darn good so far.

Prenatal yoga (except today)

2011-10-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

Photo credit: umamma.ie

I start this post of hypocritically, because instead of doing yoga tonight, I am riding the couch with Skylar watching Intervention Canada. Today just wiped me out though, and though I don't like to complain, I felt like I needed to rest most of the time. So, I succumb to what my body is asking of me and resting. (If only my mind was granted its request for a stimulating read. Can't win them all!)
I did want to take a moment today to write about how yoga has been helping me along. When we found out I was carrying twins, I immediately spiraled into a fury of worry about whether or not my body was strong enough to carry two. I immediately was called to eat, rest and nurture my body. I started to believe I could do it, but acknowledged it would be a challenge. I started doing yoga daily again, knowing I would need a strong body to carry the weight of a twin pregnancy.
It immediately helped me feel more alive after weeks of sleeping at every chance I got. I started standing with better posture, I felt like my back was getting stronger, and my hips felt better than they had in a while. Most notably, I began believing in my body, really knowing it could carry these two miracle babies until they have grown big, strong and ready for the world.
It has become a daily ritual, and I've found a few DVDs that aren't too long or difficult for me to do every day. My yoga has become more than just a physical activity for me to do to strengthen my body in anticipation of a ginormous belly. It has become my quiet time every day, my chance to to stop and be thankful for the gift(s) I've been given.
I definitely plan on keeping it up for as long as I am able, and hope that it will help carry me through on this zen-mama wave I've been riding.

Crying

2011-10-04T14:08:00.001-07:00

Can I just tell you all the reasons I cry in a day? It's really quite silly. Embarrassing, even, if I didn't have this cloak of pregnancy hormones to hide behind. I cry when I hear Beyonce's song, "Girls," because it makes me proud to be raising a young girl. I cry at the pampers commercial about every baby being a miracle like I am about to die. I cry at the Tim Horton's commercial of the dad visiting his daughter in her first apartment.
All of that may seem reasonable, if not expected, given my def-con five level of sensitivity.
But this weekend I cried at the grocery store because the stuffing was on sale and, well, I love stuffing. Yesterday I cried because I remembered I had a box of white Oreos in the pantry when I got home from work. Sometimes I cry just because I look down and see a belly there.
It's kind of funny and my poor husband has learned to laugh it off with me. It's getting difficult not to cry at things in front of Abby, who only associates crying with sadness. Otherwise, I'd consider myself a pretty calm, Zen mama this pregnancy (so far). My consistent need to cry over nice things or things that make me slightly happy is strange, but I'll take it.
Today's reason to cry? This beautiful song (it's older) by Colbie Callait about her friend's daughter. It's called Capri.

Food Goodness

2011-10-02T16:26:00.000-07:00

Today was an exciting food day. For one, I have begun being able to digest it normal again after being plagued with a stomach bug much of the weekend. It was messy and depleted me wholly and sent me to the hospital and left me gasping for Gatorade.
This afternoon, feeling a bit stronger and knowing the family needs food, I went grocery shopping and was so very happy to see my favourite fall foods were plentifully there-- and on sale. This is a major joygasm for me, as it happens so rarely.
I picked up 10 boxes of stuffing (I think box stuffing's the best!), a huge butternut squash, jumbo yams, orchard pears, and the usual weekly staples. I bought enough for our week's meals (pre-planned) and was happily surprised at the checkout when the total was $120. Since being pregnant, our grocery bill has creeped closer and closer to $200/ week. This week I was able to get everything we needed (come on, who doesn't need 10 boxes of stuffing?), and a handful of extra treats for me, all because I bought mostly things on sale. And with fall harvest in full swing down south, some of the most delicious produce is on sale.
To celebrate, I have a big honkin' pot of butternut squash soup on the stove. It is presently simmering before I puree it, let it sit overnight, and then we'll dive in tomorrow (day-old soup is far better than just-made soup).

No more fall colours

2011-09-30T14:15:00.000-07:00

There are a just a few hardy leaves still hanging on to the trees. I noticed this because when I actually remembered to take my camera with me on a walk in the woods with Abby yesterday, hoping to take some colourful pictures of her, I was greeted with a scene of browns. She wasn't disappointed, and instead found lots of cranberries (and cranberry lookalikes), puddle-poking sticks and fallen red leaves (her favourites).
Nevermind my fall photo shoot mishap, fall is whatever I want it to be. And since there is still no snow on the ground, by my books, the season continues.
Last night, fall was celebrated by drinking apple cider (boozeless) heated on the stove, and eating pumpkin cupcakes. (I'd say pumpkin muffins, but it was a Martha recipe, and there's not much healthy about two sticks of butter and a cup of brown sugar, but it sure is delicious). My friends and I all sat and laughed until we cried, and talked about fall/winter plans and the babies to come. I feel so, so blessed to be in the "belly club." After waiting so long, after being teased with membership so many times, I am so immensely grateful to have my belly, and the miracles it holds, to feel them squirm and to make plans over. It's even more special to share with friends.
I have finally wrapped my mind around the idea that they are coming, my babies, and that they are for keeps. I know technically that anything can still go wrong, and one or both could still be taken from me. But I'm choosing to celebrate making it this far. They celebrate too, by squirming and moving and letting me feel their own unique movement patterns every day, letting me know they are there and they are excited to join us. I even started buying more cloth diapers, and shopping for a minivan!
I started keeping a food journal today for three days leading up to an appointment with a nutritionist Monday. I made the appointment hoping for some insight on how much food I really need to eat, and to get an idea of what foods I may be missing out on. One scary book told me I needed to essentially eat fatty carbs and cream, get as big as possible, eat an extra 1000 calories a day and lie dormant for nine months, lest I move and cause early labour. That was fear-inducing. So I'm looking forward to a more realistic, balanced perspective based on my own biophysical needs, and of course that of the babies.
Until then, I'm looking forward to a weekend with my little lady, who gets more wonderful and creative every day!

Fall in the Yukon

2011-09-26T13:49:00.000-07:00

The leaves started changing weeks ago and now there are just a small bunch left hanging on the trees before the seasonal winds blow them off. I am loving working on Main Street right now, because the leaves make it extra colourful, and so much more like the idyllic, quaint Main Street I felt it was when I first moved here.
The shift has begun where more of the people walking around downtown are locals, and fewer are tourists. Abby, Skylar and I took a walk by the river this morning and only heard one person speaking German, whereas in the summer the majority are!
People are doing their downtown errands wearing their camo gear: hats, jackets, packs and pants. It is the busiest time for hunters, who are looking to fill their freezers with caribou, moose and dall sheep. I've seen a few come home successful, as they drive around town with antlers and moose quarters sticking out of their trucks. This was weird to me my first Yukon fall, but now it is just another sign of autumn.
I've started baking more with fall's harvest treats: applesauce, squash soup, and soon I will begin the pumpkin treats. I am waiting for a friends to return home so I can buy a jar of apple cider and have some help enjoying it, since you have to drink it up quickly once it's been opened.
I have decorated my front doorway and kitchen with fall. My new votive candle sits atop of vase filled with pine cones Abby and I collected with a friend visiting a few weeks ago. Everything just feels so cozy. My thoughts turn to slowing down as both the seasons and my body wind down their energy levels. I am getting big quite fast and am anticipating that any burst of fall energy I feel now will be quickly replaced wit sluggishness once a permanent layer of snow settles on the ground. I am so excited to know that towards the end of our winter hibernation, there will be two new babies in our family!
I wish I would ave taken my camera along with me on my morning walk today, but with one hand holding Skylar's leash (as she tugged to smell all the lovely fall smells) and the other holding Abby's hand (when she wasn't dancing on the train tracks or throwing rocks in the river), I didn't have any more free for photo-taking!

Happy Birthday Laura

2011-09-23T19:12:00.000-07:00

Today, a young girl would have turned 23. She would have graduated the chemical engineering program she had applied to, maybe gone on to a master's program by now. She was very bright, and performed quite well, academically. She was also a mega babe. She was gorgeous, by all standards. She was a worldly dancer. Before she died, she had her high school graduation portraits taken, printed and ordered, but then never got to cross the stage.
Our cousin Laura was in a terrible car crash Christmas Eve 2009, and died from her injuries January 9th.
Today I was thinking about what a loss that was. Everyone who knew her, and especially those that knew her well, were incredibly broken up when she died. The funeral home was overrun with family, friends, students and fellow dancers of hers who were there to try and share in their grief and make sense of it all. I was there trying to make sense of it all.
Laura was such a colourful person and I'm so glad I got the time to know her that I was afforded. She made an incredible impact on Rich and I. We named our firstborn Abigail Laura, and I am proud that my beautiful girl lives up to her name every day. I have never once used her middle name to scold her because that name comes with great honour.
In the minutes afterLaura died, arrangements were made for her organs to be donated, and she saved six peoples' lives. One of these was a pregnant woman, who received her heart. At this stage in my life, I well up thinking about how great a gift that is.
Laura is remembered every day. I know Rich and I think of her almost daily. We can't wait for Abby to be older so we can tell her stories of the girl after whom she was named.
Happy birthday to a beautiful soul, who I like to imagine as a mirage of colours floating in the wind.

The ants go marching

2011-09-20T15:18:00.000-07:00

The house was quiet last night: Abby was asleep, Rich was upstairs in the shower, and it wasn't yet time for bed. I rolled out my black yoga mat and started the DVD meant to slow down my day and ease me into sleep. (Not that I really need help being eased into sleep). As soon as my bum was in the air for the first downward dog, something felt amiss.
My forehead was on fire. It felt like tiny red ants were chewing away and my sinuses as blood rushed to my head. It was agonizing, so I sat that pose out. Then it turned into anytime I leaned or bent forward, an insane sinus headache would infiltrate my calm zen thoughts and ruin the moment. I angrily rolled my mat back up and sulked up to bed to read, hoping today would feel better. (There's really no medical logic to that, but I bought it at 10:05 last night).
I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache, gulped down Gatorade and a litre of water over breakfast hoping to cure the headache, and then enjoyed some fresh air on a morning walk in the woods with Abby.
I ate me a kiwi, homemade applesauce, a tall glass of OJ, all things high in vitamin C, hoping my blood stream would take things from there and solve the sinus problem.
I feel a bit better, but when I gave bending forward a test run, the fire ants came back to my forehead. Mama needs her yoga. Specifically, mama's back needs some yoga.
So I took out my Neti pot. Man, every time I try it, it still feels terribly uncomfortable and slightly as though I am drowning over my bathroom sink. But the water made it through the requisite nasal passages, so that's a good sign, I guess. I blew my nose 12785 times and then made a cup of tea. I rubbed some menthol paste under my nose. And now I will spend the rest of the day begging my sinuses to please release the terrible mucus bringing discomfort to my yoga-seeking self.
Any other ideas?
And don't even taunt me with suggestions like, "why not try advil cold and sinus?" because I love that stuff and would use it in a heartbeat if it didn't put two little heartbeats at risk. (No ibuprofen for this expectant mama).

My morning in photos (and words)

2011-09-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

This morning started earlier than usual, but that's OK. I walked down the stairs and saw this out the front window:
The house was quiet, so I poured a bowl of the applesauce I made last night:

The Macintosh apples were in big cardboard barrel at the grocery store yesterday. They were a little bruisey and very cheap so I snatched a bunch up to peel, core and throw in the slow cooker (with some lemon juice and a stick of cinnamon. The result, three hours later, was delicious autumnal heaven in my mouth. I even went for the extra domestica points of canning some for later.
When Abby woke up, she was elated to pull up a chair to the kitchen table and wish a "good morning" to the sunflowers:

Later in the morning, three women with varying degrees of belly roundness congregated in the kitchen while wily girls ran amok upstairs, and the scent of baking bread filled the house. I enlisted their help to make fall rice krispie squares, because I'd never actually made any! They're fall rice krispie squares, because they have butterscotch chips in them, of course:

It's been a very good start to the day.

Snippets

2011-09-16T14:23:00.000-07:00

Just stepped in the door from work at the bookstore to a quiet house, following a week of hosting our friends from Ontario. I miss them and their squishy, beautiful baby girl already. Abby helps fill in the quiet space now that they've left, but right now, she naps. So I write, (and sip Ovaltine).
Finding myself free of hostessing duties, I am re-committing to daily yoga, starting tonight. I can feel my back complaining after two weeks of no yoga. Lazy is definitely a feeling, for me. So given the monumental task my body has ahead of it for the next while, I am sticking to my plans to do daily yoga, strengthen my back muscles, and center my focus.
I also borrowed a copy of Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food to read. It's been on my list awhile and seems right up my alley with the cover tag line: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."
I pulled all my garden's annuals as the nightly frost and below-zero temps had begun turning them into brown, dried mush. The grocery store is full of local beets, carrots, potatoes and cabbage. We attended the farmer's market annual fall harvest yesterday. Fall is here and I am ready to welcome is peace, calm and beauty. It really is amazing to look out my back window and see the spectrum of fall colours across the mountains. The cool air gives me reason to wear a scarf, and my whole world feels more cozy.
Now, I'm going to continue my luxurious quiet by checking out www.girlsgonechild.net, this awesome blog I've poked through about a deliciously offbeat mama who just delivered twins. Exciting!

The Post I've Been Waiting to Write

2011-09-13T15:56:00.000-07:00

I've been quiet on the blog front these last months. I'm a terrible liar, and I had a secret too big to avoid on here, given that I write largely about health, eating, family and our struggles with loss.
I can fully admit (and have before, I think) that I spent most of this year in the darkest time of my life. It was rough, it tested me on many levels, and called me to fully submit to the fates; que cera cera. It has definitely brought Rich and I much closer together, and has helped me establish some really solid friendships. It has also, you've seen, brought me on a really helpful journey discovering healthy eating, how to use herbs, how to treat iron deficiency and how to bring my body to the most healthy, balanced state I could.
Now, after a total 22 months of trying, three miscarriages and a lot of asking "when?" I can finally announce with a great big grin that I am pregnant! And not just with one miracle baby, but two!
The last two and a half months I've been incredibly anxious, and that has definitely manifested in my body. But my iron supplements, some progesterone supplements and the magic of the fates have aligned to result in a healthy pregnancy thus far. I am growing fast and furious, which is entertaining to watch and feel. I am trying to keep up with back strengthening exercises and yoga to keep my core strong. I am eating as much as I can, and I have an appointment with a dietician to make sure I'm eating enough of the right stuff, since the game changes when pregnant with multiples. Admittedly though, I've felt quite hungover and flu-like and many days I just ate whatever I could stomach. I've definitely been noshing on salty chips and ginger ale to an extreme! Oh, and those Ensure high-calorie old people drinks: love those! I promise to try and keep a good balance on here of book reviews, northern living anecdotes (like the amazing northern lights show out my front window the other night!) and mama life, but now I can pepper it with my experiences of expecting twins!
For good measure, here's a picture of me today at 12 weeks, 5 days:

Home in two places

2011-09-12T09:27:00.000-07:00

Hi again! Phew! I feel like a fast-moving breeze, having traveled so far so fast, and only now is the wind subsiding a little. I traveled to Ottawa, home, with my little girl for my good friend's wedding. Abby was set to be a flower girl and I was invited to be a bridesmaid. What an honour it was!
I spent lots of time showering the bride, organizing a bachelorette, assembling crepe paper pom poms for the reception, and tying up little loose ends as the bride's helpful servant-maid.It was such an honour to be asked to stand for her on her big day. It was a beautiful celebration, with great food, pumping music, and- the best part- assembling all our close friend's for one awesome party.
I love weddings, and how they transport me back to my own, calling me to revisit all the reasons I love my own husband. That and the beauty of watching a bride come down the aisle, ugh just thinking about it now makes me well up in tears! She was so beautiful!
The week was also filled with family visits. We spent a lot of time in my Dad's backyard pool, where my little girl learned to swim solo! We stayed at my mom's, who was a wonderful, comforting, soft place to land amongst the hubbub of the week. She and my sister got to spend some quality time watching Abby while I tended to bridesmaid duties, and we all got to take walks and shopping trips seeing things from a toddler's eye view. We visited with the in-laws, who showered Abby with love and cute dresses.
I loved the chance to see everyone I cared about in one condensed week! It really is too bad it was only for one week, but I definitely think we made the most of it. We then left the humid, last days of Ontario summer to return to the beautiful fall landscapes of the mountains. We were officially welcomed home last night with a beautiful northern lights show right out our front window.
We were also welcomed home by friends of ours from Ottawa, who are visiting with their baby girl. I always love being a tour guide, and it's fun to have a live-in couple with whom
to play board games and cards!
They're here another week, and I'm challenging myself to keep eating clean, plentifully, and get in some yoga while meeting my hostessing duties. Today we're off to a swim at the pool, and a great pulled pork dinner.

Overdue Books

2011-09-01T09:26:00.000-07:00

One facet in which I have not strayed from routine this summer is my reading list. Over the last few weeks I have been turning some pages voraciously and struggling to keep turning pages in others. I have remained committed to my new year's resolution to only read recommended reading this year, and it was a bit of a stretch to pick up Andrew Pyper's Wildfire Season.
It doesn't seem like the type of book I'd normally pick up: a thriller mystery about forest fires and arson. The recommendation came from a few people at the book store who learned I had lived in Ross River. "Oh, have you read Wildfire Season then? You HAVE to!" The story, you see, is set in Ross River.
Pyper describes with great accuracy and anthropology the characters and setting of the local bar, the town's social ills, and the locale as an unofficial settling place for people without roots but with plenty of quirks. The story wasn't worthy of a Pulitzer, but I enjoyed being transported back to that quirky little Kaska village where we spent two years of our lives.
I couldn't finish Kate Morton's The Forgotten Garden, try as I may. I started and re-started it several times before I put my foot down and declared that life was too short for struggling through books for which I don't much care.
I read Jaycee Dugard's chilling account of being held captive as a sex slave for 18 years, A Stolen Life. After reading Room in four short days, I knew I would appreciate another good look at the depths of the human experience and the creepy lows to which one can stoop. Dugard's true-life tale was haunting, and I raced through it in three days in part to get it over with (and decrease the amount of time the story spent at the forefront of my thoughts) and partly to get to the happy ending.
I read Randy Pausch's The Last Lecture, because I was moved to body-shaking sobs when I saw him perform his lecture on the Oprah show years ago. The book was anti-climactic after that and left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I felt bad for thinking of a deceased man as arrogant in his own memoir, but that's how he came across, page after page. I wish I would have stuck with the youtube video.
Yesterday at work I went on a little shopping spree and bought y next few reads: Katheryn Stockett's The Help, as recommended by everyone ever, Velma Wallis' Two Old Women, as recommended by an elder in Ross River years ago, and Todd Burpo's Heaven is for Real.
I'm taking The Help with me to Ottawa tomorrow, as I vacation at home for a week to celebrate my friend's wedding next week! For the first time, Abby will be a flower girl and I will be a bridesmaid. So exciting!
So pardon any lapse in posts over the next week, I'll try my best to keep up with my commitment to routine posting!

Carrot juice smoothies?

2011-08-30T20:29:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to report that after a yucky-weather month of August, and some days spent in long pants and down vests, I am ready to get back to routine. Cold Augusts just aren't my thing and if that's what you've got for me, Yukon, then I'll have none of it! No more wistful lists of beachy afternoons and popsicles melting on the front porch. I am accepting things as they are and moving forward with an impetus I know: routine, rhythm and home.
I thought I'd get back to the blog today with a post that continues my holistic-mama quest for food as medicine.
Today's edition: carrot juice.
I came across this article about the blood-building benefits of carrot juice. For someone trying to boost iron levels (an unending quest for me, it seems), regularly ingested carrot juice can help red blood cell counts increase.
I thought I'd try it, but was intimidated at the grocery store when the only bottle of carrot juice available was rather large. Oh well, I figured. If the taste of carrot juice was too funky, I can use the leftovers for batches of butternut squash soup. (The delicious Eat, Shrink, Be Merry recipe calls for carrot juice and it's delicious).
Later that day I pulled the blender from the corner of the counter and collected my ingredients. I didn't bother trying to sweeten or counteract the carrot juice's taste, to see if I could enjoy it without. I took a sip straight from the bottle. Gross me out. It tasted just like chewed-up carrots.
I put some spinach, flax seed, plain, fatty yogurt, carrot juice, mixed frozen berries and half a banana and the blender and hit the button.
I only made enough for me because when I asked around the house no one, not even our super polite visitors, wanted to try a carrot juice smoothie. Can't really blame them!
Their loss: the smoothie tasted great! I used about a 3/4 cup of juice (the other things I never really measure but let's say a good 2 dollops of yogurt, a handful of fruit, a handful of spinach and a tablespoon of ground flax).
So I've got the whole bottle to use in my daily smoothie, and I think I'll use it to replace the orange juice I usually use as my liquid base!
Happily, I learn something new every day.

Thrice saddened

2011-08-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

A week has passed, and in that time I have had a few chances to reflect quietly on some sad events. I learned that three friends of mine had lost babies. One was quite far along in her pregnancy, one gave birth at 36 weeks to a baby born still, and another lost hers through an adoption arrangement.
Though it wasn't me going through these sad and terrible dark hours, talking with them and learning of their news has saddened me greatly. It has brought back to the surface sadness I have known, and it has left me looking to the sky asking again why do terrible things happen to such good people.
It is a terrible crescendo of elation, excitement, planning and hope, and then terrible loss. The joy of expecting should never be taken away from a woman who wants to mother.
Sometimes I would think to myself in sad moments that perhaps my experiences will tip the statistics and prevent other women from having to endure such loss. It was a small silver lining and it gave me a bit of comfort and strength.
Now, I am trying to balance all of the patience and hope I have restores over these last months and prevent them from crashing down as I find myself doubting divine rule. What cruel fate could dictate such sad stories? I wonder.
But I know my sadness won't help these women in their grief, and it certainly won't change the outcomes.
So I will file these sad occurrences away under, "Don't understand," and offer them out to the wind to be carried away to a place where they may be received and stored for safekeeping.

August Off

2011-08-05T13:50:00.000-07:00

When I was in university, I got to participate in research for a forthcoming makeup book by a Hollywood makeup guru. It was a really great gig I got through awesome blog contacts, and I got to interview such celeb makeup artists as Bobbi Brown, Shalini Vadhera and Troy Surratt.
I took A LOT of insight and research from that project, but today I was thinking about how I was doing these interviews in a crunch at the end of July because so many people were off for the month of August.
Off to beaches, lake houses, the Mediterranean. Anywhere. These fast-paced lifestyle and in-demand artists took a month off. Glamour.
I can't tell you I'm taking the month off because, well, nothing is changing in my life! I'm not taking time "off" of anything. But I love this rhythmic and collective slowing down that August brings. A chance to put my feet up and watch my garden bloom, literally and figuratively. It's time to reap the rewards of hard work and enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of a hot August day. We are going to outdoor concerts, lakes, road trips, reading outside, long walks, and eating the wonderful abundance of fresh produce available to us.
Given unlimited resources, I would love to spend August at home, and at the beach in Maine. We're here for what could be our last Yukon summer, so I'm soaking in my northern summer's bounty.
So, check in, mozy around, and join me in my laid-back August life.

Busy Week

2011-07-28T09:06:00.000-07:00

Alright, so Mrs Independent may be able to keep the flowers watered and the rail on Abby's toddler bed from falling off again, but updating le blog has fallen by the wayside. Single mama-ing, the job, and getting ready for guests to visit has left little time for quiet thought and reflection with a cup of tea and a laptop. It's crazy but I actually have to schedule in a shower today on my planner so I remember to do it and space it so I'm not going to work with a wet drowned-rat hairdo.
Abby's been...sensitive with Rich's absence. Testing her limits, testing how far the elastic band of my sanity will stretch before it snaps. She's also got a molar poking through, and throw in the odd babysitter just to confuse her routine and Abby is clingy and ready to cry at the drop of a hat, or sippy cup.
I've been trying to stick to her predictable routine, visiting parks she knows and having rests and food at regular times of day. We've also had adventures to the used book store, climbing a big dirt pile and chasing squirrels in the forest (not the forest with the recently-spotted grizzle, the sparse one behind the park).
We've been having fun together, and I appreciate the mama-Abby bonding time we're getting. I catch myself wishing the days away until my mom and sister arrive this weekend, even though I'm usually very carpe diem. I am forgiving of myself, because I am best at parenting as part of a team, and we both miss Rich! Come home soon!

Mrs Independent

2011-07-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

My lovah is gone, home to Ottawa and to Quebec for our good friend's wedding. I so wish Abby and I could have gone too! But this is just one of those years where we are (thankfully!) invited to many weddings, so we are dividing and conquering, attending separately to avoid ending up in the poorhouse by Christmas with all the airfare.
He is away for two weeks, and the idea of single parenting it for even two weeks daunts me (I raise the white flag and humbly acknowledge the stellar bravery and strength of actual single mama, you rock!). Thankfully, my mom and sister are flying up on the weekend to vacation with Abby and I, so really Abby and I are only on our own for five days. Which is totally doable. Even if she goes limp when I try to pick her screaming self off the floor and put her in her bed for nap times.
Rich is already missed after only being gone a few hours. I know, and I embrace my codependency. But it's made me take stock of all the "blue" jobs I am proud to be able to accomplish.
My friend wrote a really funny post years ago about blue jobs and pink jobs. Blue jobs are those household chores that boys do and the rest are pink.
Since Rich is away, I tackled a blue job today: mowing the lawn. It doesn't look as good as when he does it, but still. It's pretty and it's done.
I then sat and had a tea and thought about the many blue jobs I do, and proudly. Rich will attest to being the un-handy one, but he definitely picks up the slack by vacuuming, laundry and cleaning the bathrooms. But I like the fix-it jobs. This weekend, I fixed the wood corner board coming off of our kitchen island. And I put a new screen in the window Skylar jumped through last week on a rainy day, inviting herself into a dry house when no one was home to do it for her.
I usually am the designated car-washer, and driveway-shoveller, because I enjoy the monotony and instantly gratifying work. I am the light-bulb replacer, the contractor hire-er (because I do not repair fences or paint bathrooms myself), the dishwasher fixer, the plugged-up sink unplugger and the gardener.
I like the life-long learning that comes with owning a home. There are always projects to do, and I really enjoy learning to do them, especially when it means saving some money by doing it ourselves.
Have fun Rich, but hurry home--we miss you!

Seashore

2011-07-23T14:18:00.000-07:00

Beauty by the sea, breeze in our hair, sun changing our skin colour from pale to gold.
Watermelon slices, water to rehydrate, sweet pink lemonade at day's end.
Blowing bubbles, splashing waves, umbrella in my drink
Summer's here, and we're celebrating, so put on your swimsuit and let's go!

Love List

2011-07-20T09:17:00.000-07:00

Things I'm loving about being Abby's mom lately:

- Her developing musical preferences. This morning over PBJ toast she asked me to flick past the Swell Season and pump up the Regina Spector.
- Insisting that each morning is worth celebrating (amen, sister!), so we light a candle over our breakfast. Then she usually sings Happy Birthday.
- I love when she carefully selects a book to read, after running her little finger along all of the book spines, finding exactly the right one. I love it more when she adds commentary. "It's OK, bird, don't cry!"
- Taking 30 minutes to walk about 500m, because it's raining and one should certainly stop to jump in every puddle, throw rocks in it, and test its depth with sticks.
- When she reminds me to praise her after using the potty, while I'm distracted with quickly emptying the pot into the toilet lest she try to do it herself.
- Her little arm wrapping itself around my neck as I lay my head next to hers to sing her night-night songs.

Home

2011-07-19T15:17:00.000-07:00

As our small jet flew over familiar landscapes Sunday night, I began to feel tension ease.
It was more than just an affirmation that, "No matter how Abby acts, we're almost there." It was more than a loosening of the strings binding my unease. Anytime I'm somewhere unfamiliar, the feeling of being out of control leaves me slightly tense as I wonder what's next, then what, and will Abby be OK?
It was a sigh of relief, "Ah, we're home." I spied the winding jade-coloured rivers and slightly snow-capped mountains from our airplane window. I gathered our backpack and purse, diligently stored underneath the seats in front of us, making sure to collect Abby's car, cat and shark. (It really is a dolphin, but she doesn't believe me).
As we drove in our own truck, pulling out of the airport parking lot, I took notice of the things that made this place my home. And I kept that noticing feeling around the last few days, picking up on what makes the Yukon mine, at least while I'm here.
- that laid-back feeling that things will get done, in their own time. The freedom that no one's concerned if I do or don't.
- the fireweed growing wild everywhere (I let one grow in my garden because its bloom is too pretty not to include)

- the bear sightings I heard about on the radio on the way home. I love the reminders that we share this land and that once beyond the safety of our front yard, we are at nature's mercy. This excites me.
- the familiarity that comes with living in a small town. After four years up here, I feel like I'm really getting to know the patterns, the ebbs and flows of this town. I know the faces of the stores I frequent, and can make small talk with anyone. When I moved up here I was an anonymous big city girl who kept her eyes on the sidewalk when going somewhere.
- accomplishment. This was where our marriage started and in that time we have grown so much as people. I feel infinitely more resourceful having bought and maintained a home for a year. I feel independent and confidant after living two years in isolation. I feel unconditionally supported and loved by the man who has been through a rocky start with me, and who has celebrated life's greatest wonder (Abby!)
- jeans. They are appropriate attire in almost any social situation, and I love it.

Regina Weekend!

2011-07-18T12:36:00.000-07:00

Hi again! I went MIA for a bit...life happened, then we hit the road North to Mayo for a memorial, and then turned right back around on the highway to make our flight to Regina! Abby and I went to my cousin's wedding in the prairie town I'd only known before as "Mountie-birthplace." Our hotel had an awesome water slide, so we all spent a ton of time there pretending to be younger than we are. Abby loved it, and she learned how to jump into deep water, my little fish.
The wedding was beautiful, sunny and simple. There were dragonflies all over too, adding a magical feel to the day.
The reception had amazing food, (you know it was a prairie wedding because they served up perogies and cabbage rolls, yum!). There was also a dessert bar 9people laughed when I reached for a dinner plate to fill instead of a demure dessert plate). Abby kicked her mousse bowl clean and then danced off the ensuing sugar rush until well past her bedtime.
We also had an out of the blue moment while taking a walk to a park. We heard loud, booming music and when we walked out to the main road, we saw a Caribana parade coming our way! In Regina! Who'd have every thought? Abby loved the steel drums and ornate, colourful costumes. She also loved the ring-pop she caught.
It was so touching to see her dote on her Toots (maternal grandfather) so much. She was always asking after him, stuck like glue (or ring pop goop) to his side. They read silly books, and sent each other into long, deep laughs. I felt so complete watching them make each other so happy.
It was a great visit with family, and I was so glad to reconnect with my cousins and aunties and uncles on my Dad's side. I hope it won't be long before we can all come together again!

Colours

2011-07-11T19:49:00.000-07:00

I returned to the woods for an after-dinner walk with Skylar. It's been awhile. The new job has taken most of my free evenings captive, and on those I don't work I've preferred to stay home.
Tonight's dinner left me full and sluggish. The sun was high and warm, but not hot. I figured a walk would do me some good.
I was amazed at how colourful it was when I looked, really looked at the forest. In the winter, everything comes in shades of white, grey, dark brown and blue. Today's palette covered all the basis.
Blue lupines poking their heads up from peach-fuzz stems. Purple fireweed dancing in the wind over red stems. Orange pine needles all over the floor. Yellow butterflies here and there. Yellow-bright greens through the spectrum to deep, luscious dark greens. A blue sky without clouds. White dandelion fluffs. It was all there for me to take in, if I stopped.
So I did, every now and then. Stopped to see it, see the forest, see it in its prime fertile, vivacious beauty.
I must remember to conjure this later when my world comes in greys, whites and blues. For now, I bask in the sun's generous ambiance and celebrate all the life it brings about.

Yukon-aversary

2011-07-08T13:28:00.000-07:00

I love celebrating anniversaries. Of anything. But especially of motherhood, of marriage, and of monumental moves.
Yesterday marked my fourth Yukon-aversary. On 07/07/07, I boarded a flight to the Yukon, with a one-way ticket. We flew up with the MacIsaacs, who were also flying one-way, about to start a Yukon adventure. We had met a week before in Regina, and been in touch via MSN chat (how ancient!), talking about the fear, excitement and curiosity that accompany a big move. None of us had ever been North of 60 before. We were unsure what to expect.
The first day we got there was busy, but it is etched into my memory. We were picked up by Rich's trainer at work, and brought to his new office, and the temporary quarters in which we were to live until our stuff arrived on the moving truck. We unpacked what our two allocated suitcases held, and set out to discover this new place called Whitehorse.
We had no vehicle yet, but the MacIsaacs did. We found the mighty Yukon river, some restaurants, a Wal-Mart, Canadian Tire and Starbucks...indicators that we would be OK! We walked along Robert Service way and took in the pristine beauty of our new landscape. Crisp blue water. Snow-capped mountains. And a sun that didn't set!
We went to bed with a lot on our minds, a lot to take in. We were told which places to avoid and which were "cop-friendly". This makes me laugh now because none of it was true. Everyone here has their own thing going on and for the most part doesn't care what Rich does for a living.
This place has been a surprise to me. I've come to enjoy it as a real home, and not just a place to live.
I got married while we lived here. We moved to Ross River. We had our daughter. We made deep friendships. We met some colourful characters and went on some exciting adventures. We have re-defined what a "long" road trip is. We appreciate the simple things in life, because during the long winters, the basics are expensive and sparse. We appreciate each other, Rich and I. We have experienced the best times of our lives together, and the worst.
This place has been our home four years now, and I can feel it in my bones.

Tara MacIsaac and I flying up to Whitehorse four years ago!

'Round Here

2011-07-07T15:09:00.000-07:00

Lately around here, we've been summer-busy. We've had guests from Ontario, including a good friend and former Yukoner, and her darling red-headed baby boy. We ate well, had movie nights, stayed up late with wine, had good heart-to-hearts, road-tripped, and generally carpe diem-ed until the cows came home.
Now, in the deflation of having a quiet house, we miss our friends. But we also take solace in quiet, in the little things.
Like the beautiful daisies growing in my garden.

Like the beautiful rainbow across the street after a light summer shower.
We are taking mornings just to stay home, blow bubbles on the front porch, water the flowers, chase the dog, and eat fresh-baked muffins, (leaving the crumbs for the birds). It's nice to go from busy to quiet. It leaves me time to tend to things otherwise ignored, like laundry piles, the empty bread box, and the stuffed mailbox. More importantly, it gives me time to slow down and ask Abby, "What do you want to do today?" instead of convincing her she really will have fun doing whatever I want to do.
Today was Abby's choice.
How can I ever say no to this silly girl?
We started our morning with scrambled eggs and smoothies, listening to Motown. We picked pretty dresses out and watered the potted flowers outside. We ate special cookies from Alaska and then went downtown with our brown bag lunch for Arts in the Park. We went to the courthouse to visit Daddy at work, and then spent another 20 minutes looking at the koi pond. The nice gentlemen at the service desk even came to feed them, giving Abby a live nature show right in front of her. She was captivated.
Now, she rests, and I take a pause in my day to sip Ovaltine, prepare some food for dinner, and put away the laundry. It may seem domestic and plain to some, but I'm living the dream.

Our First Fourth

2011-07-05T14:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Abby and I packed ourselves, some DVDs and two friends in the car and we headed to Alaska to celebrate the fourth of July. I'd never celebrated it before, and I was really excited to do it small town-style.
It was quintessentially patriotic and wonderful. There were foot races, tug-of-war contests, a pie auction, a 3-on-3 basketball tournament, a parade, live music, good food and everything was bedecked in red, white and blue.
Everyone wished us a "Happy Fourth!" and we wished them back the same. Abby ran and ran, and I took in all the beauty of patriotism. It was certainly a level above Canada Day--people just seemed more into it. It was a big ordeal, although it was simple ways to celebrate. A street barbecue, wearing a funny hat, putting ribbons on your car. A pipe band that made me (and several other people) tear up.
We all ate well, as we always do when we got to Skagway: Thai food for lunch, pink lemonade, fancy ice cream, American groceries (I scored a bag of Bugles, remember those?), the best chai latte I ever tasted (I'll show you if you come visit!)
It was a wonderful day, made even more special by sharing it with friends from out of town, and my friend's adorable baby boy. It was my best Skagway adventure yet!

Summer speed

2011-07-02T07:38:00.000-07:00

Ack! Where has the time gone? Like it is wont to do in summer, it's just flying by. Yesterday I even had to switch pages on my wall calendar (Dr. Seuss), can you believe it? I hardly can. Life right now is barbecues, parties, dinners, visits from friends, work at the bookstore, Skype with faraway family, parks and picnic with Abby, eating delicious summer foods (mucho de strawberries around here!) So I apologize for the lack of updates, this mama's out there summer-ing it up!
It's another busy weekend and as I write this I have a little girl singing in her "Ariel" voice in her room waiting for me, a tiramisu to make for a dinner tonight, and final cleaning before our weekend house guests arrive. So, until we meet again, keep you eye on the sky...every day from here on out gets a little shorter. Soak up what summer remains! I will be!

Goober the Machine Cat

2011-06-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

Goober the machine cat doesn't always get a lot of recognition around here. Our shelter rescue cat slides in and out of the scene on his schedule, and participates in the family action when he pleases. He sleeps a lot, and avoids Abby's over-enthusiastic love hugs. He sleeps between my head and Rich's at night, and curls up with me for a nap from time to time. He reminds me to feed him when I haven't, and greets me every morning by running in and out of my legs as I groggily stumble down the stairs simultaneously trying to avoid stepping on him or falling.
But he is our cat, and we love him. I caught him this morning following a teensy bug around the house, menacing the poor bug with his soft paws, batting him around for pleasure. Simple things amuse simple minds, but who is the simple one when I'm stooping to photograph him and a bug?
Ode to Goober, we love you, you crazy cat.

Iron Clad

2011-06-27T13:34:00.000-07:00

"The road to hugeness is paved in iron." -Arnold Schwarzenegger

What a wise sage that man is. Kidding. For the record, he seems like a slime ball to me. But this is the first iron-related quote I could come up with off the top of my head.
It turns out that in my case, taking a couple months' worth of iron pills and increasing the amount of iron in my diet wasn't enough. I originally tested at having an iron store level of 8, which is terrible. The normal range for women is 60 to 150, though it can go as high as 250 before it's a problem. Last week, my iron was re-tested at 25. Up, but still a poor level.
Food is always the best source for nutrients, but at this stage I cannot possibly eat balanced meals and eat even more meat. I eat it at least once a day, I eat red meat at least three times a week, I incorporate game meat (the highest in iron), I use blackstrap molasses in my baking when I can substitute, I cook on a cast-iron skillet, and I drink an iron-enriched hot chocolate every day. So, as it stands, I'll keep taking an iron pill three times a day.
I'm learning too that I need to take it with foods high in ascorbic acid, which is the best complimentary nutrient to aid with iron absorption. (No sense taking iron pills if m body isn't absorbing them). Ascorbic acid, also known as vitamin C, is my new summertime best friend. We're getting it in mangoes, oranges, orange juice, watermelon, strawberries, bell peppers, kiwis, pineapple and baby spinach (uncooked).
It's been about six months of having low iron now, so I'm excited to see what it feels like to have it in normal levels in my body. Hopefully that means more energy, as Abby is so excited for everything summer these days!

Yukon Girl

2011-06-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

I love having a Yukon kid so much. From day one, she has been ingrained with a kind of hearty, resistant and unstoppable strength, and I definitely believe it's because the Yukon blood flows through her veins. She has never told me she feels cold, and that has to come from taking daily walks, even at -25, since she was but a couple weeks old. She loves running toward a lake, full steam ahead, because its thawed liquid beauty calls her so. She can identify moose, ptarmigan, fox and Dall sheep by sight, because that is the wildlife she knows best. She was raised on moose meat, and thinks talking to a dead arctic char head is about the greatest fun on earth.
My Yukon girl loves the outdoors, warm or cold, sunny or dark. Right now, she is loving the emergence of the Yukon flora and fauna, and is making new friend with the butterflies and bees.
Yesterday I took her to the lake for lunch with some of our friends, and she literally scooped up mud from the shore and tried to eat it. She loves this place so much she would eat its abundant soil. Gross, but romantic, I say.
Cheers (with apple juice in a sippy cup) to my Yukon girl. May her hearty strength and unshakable passion for the outdoors never be extinguished.

Selective amnesia

2011-06-24T12:54:00.000-07:00

Fireweed bloom in my backyard

I'm feeling like I'm in a strange, dysfunctional relationship these days. I stayed with someone who made me tired and lethargic, gloomy and hungry. I didn't eat as well, I didn't exercise as much, and I felt like I was always waiting for tings to get better so I could get out and live. That someone is the Yukon, and old man winter was hard on me this year.
Now, like any dysfunctional relationship, I forget all about the bad times. Long ago are dark days of winter, cold, snotsicles and shoveling.
For summer is here. The fireweed are blooming. The sky is clear and blue. My garden is in and thriving. The days are long, and I haven't seen stars in weeks. I feel a renewed vigour, more energy and passion, more creative forces swimming about. I am soaking up the sun, my air is getting lighter while my skin looks consistently flushed. I read, eat, lounge and play with Abby outdoors.
We had our annual solstice barbecue Tuesday, and the rainy clouds gave way to parting sunlight just in time for about 45 of our Yukon friends to join us for grilled meat and a pot luck spread of delicious food. I relished in the chance to say hi and hug friends I hadn't seen much through the winter. We all had babies to care for, colds to nurse, frigid temperatures from which to stay indoors and insulate. It felt like a real marking of time, a celebration that indeed summer is here and we've earned it, baby.
We don't know how long it's going to last, but we're not even going there. It's summer now, and that's all that matters.

The Boreal Herbal

2011-06-22T14:15:00.000-07:00

This week, I have added a new tool to my holistic parenting/family life kit. (Although using the term 'family life' makes me cringe because that's what our sexual development textbooks were called in elementary school).
I have been slowly and subtly incorporating holistic ways to do things into our rhythm here, and it has largely been rewarding. I have written before about using homeopathics during Abby's teething spurts, preparing food with whole, un-processed ingredients, and using fruits, seeds, vegetables and nuts to help treat illness. With the help of my naturopath, I have transitioned from viewing my body as a machine to seeing it as more of a garden; that is, that it requires rest, food, care and patience.
If it's not getting too hippy for you, I have to say that in the last week, I have had another holistic perspective ease its way into my life in a most serendipitous way. For that reason I can only deduce that it is not coincidence, but meant to be. While at work at the bookstore, I have been able to chat a bit with a local herbalist and business owner about her then-forthcoming book. When the book was released, I snapped up a copy and began looking through its beautifully laid-out pages.It has definitely found its way into my arms at the perfect point in time. Boreal Herbal reads like a textbook (although an easy-to-understand compendium) about plants in the boreal forest, and how to use them. Not just use them, but how to identify them, prepare them and incorporate them into diet and treatments.
I admit, plant identification overwhelms me. There is the whole possibility of getting it wrong and poisoning myself or getting sick. Or the effort required of picking a whole bunch of some plant in order to produce a scant amount of tincture or poultice material. But I am definitely into this whole idea of using what's around us to heal and nourish. It's just so 2011-Sarah, isn't it?
Abby and I went to the book launch downtown and sampled some of the book's recipes for rosehip iced tea and green smoothies with a number of crazy weeds in it, and wild blueberry mini muffins. My girl waited patiently for me to have my copy of the book signed, and we stayed for a bit of the reading. It was a fun "grown-up" event for me and my little lady!
Short version of this rambling tale: I have loved learning about how to use plants and berries (etc) to make nourishing foods and treatments for all kinds of ailments. I'll have to slowly try out a few, but I've already begun integrating more herbs (not necessarily ones I went out and picked myself, maybe one day!)
For instance, I've begun drinking more herbal teas in place of water, to help balance things out and help strengthen my rockin body. Today, I sipped on some stinging nettles leaf tea, because it is meant to help cleanse the blood (as a natural source of vitamin K) and tone the liver and kidneys. (Extra herb points to me for drinking it from one of my herbal identification mugs!)

Funneling it down

2011-06-22T14:03:00.000-07:00

We live in a world of unsolicited advice. Never was this more clear to me as when I found myself at the front door to motherhood. Everyone was an expert, or so it felt. So what was I? Without realizing it, I began to believe I couldn't possibly do it on my own with Rich. I learned there were people who knew more about swaddling than I initially did. There were breastfeeding experts and child development gurus who were certified to give opinions.
I initially tried to take in all the advice. I am not a sponge, so I learned to only let the helpful and good-natured advice in through my motherhood baleen. Through the course of my years mothering Abby, I've learned to know my instincts. Nobody can raise Abby better than her parents can.
This has been a very empowering lesson, and I look forward to moving further into adulthood, and finding more confidence in my voice, my abilities and my peace.
At such a crossroads with infertility and loss, there is a lot of advice out there. In weak moments, I have been consumed by what I could read and absorb. When I would feel at my wit's end, questioning "why" too many times and feeling cheated, I believed I could research my way out of this.
There is a lot to be read, and a lot of approaches to take as 'next steps.' I saw a naturopath, and that helped me to see my body not as a medical conduit, but as a bio-organism needing food, rest, and care, like a garden. I saw a specialist, and that showed me the medical options available.
There are many people who, I gather, reach for something to offer me when they aren't sure what might help. Try this, try that, they say. Just like new motherhood, it's overwhelming how many people have walked this road before, but I am learning that everyone finds their own answer, in their own way.
I'm still, of course, not sure what our answer is. Or if there is one. Medically speaking, there are no explanations for us. We are just supposed to keep hoping, keep trying, and statistically, it should work out one day.
There's an old Buddhist proverb that says if we haven't yet left the difficult phase we're in, we probably still have something to learn from it.
I'm learning peace, and in that I'm learning to keep it simple. There are a million things I could keep trying, a thousand approaches to health and cleansing and diet and exercise. Partly because we've been at it 22 months unsuccessfully and partly because I need peace, I have chosen to listen to my instincts. Trust my body. Give some props to my body for doing its thing all these years and staying healthy and strong. I'm done being angry with it for failing me, because when I look at things through a different set of lenses, my body has also done some pretty amazing things, (like have a daughter, feed her for a year, and recover from losses).

Their Eyes Were Watching God

2011-06-20T15:36:00.000-07:00

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The second (or third...)-hand copy of the book I bought was published in 1990. It has a foreword and afterword reminding me all about how important this book was as a political marker for the feminist black writer in the 20th century. I read all about how revolutionary it was, how it was forgotten for a time, how it was revived by Alice Walker and remembered as a classic.
I know now a whole lot about why this book meant so much to people, as far as its blackness was concerned. I was introduced to it through a vein of other black history fiction, as I am a fan of the genre.
But I love "Their Eyes" for the love story.
I love it because it gently eases us into a story about not settling, and the danger to your heart if you do. It uses Janie as a model for an ancient type of feminist who refuses to accept that a marriage is only supposed to be as good as the examples she sees around her. She rejects the notion that a woman should be glad for a man who provides, even if he demeans her and suffocates her being.
Tea Cake is the real hero of this story, because he comes along with a song in his heart and brings that music into Janie's melancholy world. He saves the day. Through him, we learn alongside Janie what the joy and jubilation of love can, and should be.
Janie teaches us that love isn't always easily recognized, it's not something we need to she modeled in order to be blessed with.
"Love is like de sea. It's uh movin' thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it's different with every shore."

View all my reviews

Good eatin'

2011-06-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

These days 'round here, the Yukoners are eatin' well. It is summer: the fruits stand on Black Street is open, and calls me for a Sunday morning love affair. I bring Abby along (while Dad check out giant TVs at Audiotronic: he's nuts if he thinks he can convince me we need one anytime in the near future). We are equally matched in our excitement, Abby and I: organic fruits! Plentiful root vegetables! A whole bulk wall of sugar-free staples! Abby picked out two Ambrosi apples to carry around, while I danced to and fro, filling my basket with rhubarb stalks, zucchini, grapes, berries, pumpkin seeds and yams.
A kind old woman stopped me to share how wonderful she thought it was that I brought Abby, and how nice it was to see her shared excitement for produce. I agree, and smiled, and felt great. I love how much Abby loves food, and I love ho easy it's been to include her in my appreciation for and preparation of nummy foods.
We celebrated the day away by turning our finds into treats. We made sugar-free, whole grain zucchini bread, which turned out fantastic. I love when things turn out after I anticipate it all day long. Saves the floors from being stomped on.We also made strawberry-rhubarb pie and trail mix. (Abby thinks trail mix is really a treasure hunt, where you go through the bowl picking out all of the chocolate chips and cheerios). The pie filling was delicious, and marked the first time I baked with real rhubarb (and not the canned stuff). I tried a Clean Eating pie crust (whole grains and no lard) and it tasted...healthy and yucky. Like tough cardboard. I'll have to keep scouring my cookbooks and the Internet for a healthy pie crust that doesn't suck.I am really loving pictures of food lately!
And I'm happy to say I've already booked a room in Dawson City for when my mom and sister are up in August, Abby and I worked on floating at the pool this morning, and I fixed up my punchy pink toenail polish this afternoon watching Oprah re-runs. Stay-at-home mom life really rocks in the summertime!

Mama and the Papas

2011-06-19T14:15:00.000-07:00

Today, it's raining. When Rich woke up, opened his card and gift, and I drew open the blinds, he smiled, "It's a perfect Father's Day." Rainy days mean staying under blankets, slowly sipping warm drinks, and watching whatever you want on TV. A perfect Day for Rich. We left the house to go eat brunch at our fave brekkie spot, and we all salivated for our greasy spoon eggs, bannock, ham, bacon, toast and hash browns. And once we returned, we closed the door, prepared to hibernate with each other.
The house is filled with the smell of the red wine vinegar marinade for our bison roast supper tonight. Though the windows are open and fresh air is welcome to come or go, the bison, and now the zucchini loaf I just pulled out are the only smells that sit in the air. Give me a couple of hours and the smell of strawberry-rhubarb pie will join the mix.
Rich is downstairs playing XBox with some of his Dad friends, relishing in a day without a to-do list. Nobody is asking him to fix anything, clean anything, take anyone anywhere, or hop to it. I know he is loving the scene we've set for him, especially when a certain curly-haired girl in a party dress runs full steam into his arms for a giggly hug and sloppy kiss.Though the day is subdued, and there is very little fanfare, we are celebrating his daddy greatness. Since Day 1 he has been a Dad to go down in history as one of the greats. I'm so glad today has given us a chance to slow down and make the effort to remark on his greatness.
I'm also glad I have a dad in the house to dote on, as mine is so far away.
We'll "see" each other on Skype, of course, but it won't be the same as going to settle into the crook between his shoulder and neck for a long cuddle. Or having a perfect cup of tea, or hiding a fart simulator under my sister's chair and setting it off throughout dinner. He is my biggest cheerleader, and he's always been my protector, ready to swoop in and save me from harm's way. Or sometimes, when I've been up against a foe he couldn't fight, he has flown up at a moment's notice to stand beside me as I fight.

He has always fostered my love for water, and I have been lucky enough to share lots of underwater memories with him, like dolphins, sea turtles and scary night dives, holding hands.

This is us in Turks and Caicos before a dive

He is an excellent "Toots" to Abby, and it has made me so happy to give him a granddaughter to dote on. Which he does!

Happy Father's Day, dudes!

Summer To-Dos!

2011-06-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

You know I love me a good list, so with summer solstice less than a week away, I need to organize my thoughts.
It's been getting warmer here, days slower, sun out longer. It's here, it's time to embrace it before it runs away on us again.

This summer, I want to:
- Come up with the perfect sangria recipe
- Eat outside
- Teach Abby to float in the pool
- Go to Dawson City
- Drink pink lemonade
- Keep my toes painted pink
- Sand and paint the back deck and front stoop
- Wear flowy skirts
- Find the ocean
- Go for a pizza date at Bocelli's with Rich
- Eat lots of fresh fruits

Lunch at the Lake

2011-06-16T15:15:00.001-07:00

I hope today's memories return to me in those moments when I breathe out deeply, put my feet up, and reflect on what a fortunate, beautiful life I have.
This afternoon, I sat on my beach blanket, leaning back on my elbows, watching my growing girl pace back and forth along the shore. The water was glistening under the high noon sun, and reflected to us in a vibrant turquoise body of water. It was clear and cool and inviting.
Abby's fat little feet turned wrinkly, she stayed in the water so long. Walking back and forth, flicking the water with sticks. Sometimes I would catch her just standing, looking out at the lake with the most Zen expression on her two-year-old face. It was my soul mirrored in hers, and we were both thinking, "Oh yeah, this is the life."
We went for a picnic lunch and hot dog roast at Long Lake with friends, and I could have stayed all day. Everyone found their happy place for the day. We found a great fire pit with all sizes of twig and log ready to be fuel. There was no one around. Skylar jumped right in and chased every stick in we threw. A flurry of beautiful yellow butterflies danced all around us, it kind of looked like a hallucination. We ate a gourmet spread of cheese, red pepper jelly, cookies, melons, pears, hot dogs, chickpea salad and granola bars, all home made. I truly believe everything tastes better when eaten outside. And it tastes divine when eaten alongside the shore.
We were all swept over with sun, cooled down with sporadic breezes. We had nothing to worry about, but plenty to celebrate. It was the kind of celebration best marked not by noise, dance or laughter, but by quiet smiles, deep breaths and a feeling of being totally present. Major carpe diem at the lake today.
I thought to myself, "I really live here. This is my place. I am sitting at a lake 10 minutes from my house, with clean water, pristine wilderness, and no one else is here. Just my friends, my dog, and my water-loving little girl."

Remembering Value

2011-06-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

So I stole this from the Internet, but I love it. It's my teaching lesson (to myself) for the day.

To realize the value of a year, ask a university student who failed their freshman year.
To realize the value of a month, ask the mother of a premature baby.
To realize the value of a week, ask a newspaper editor.
To realize the value of a day, ask a single mom working minimum wage to feed her family.
To realize the value of an hour, ask the lovers who are waiting to meet at the airport.
To realize the value of a minute, ask the husband who missed his last train home from work.
To realize the value of a second, ask the person who just avoided a car accident.
To realize the value of a millisecond, ask the person who won silver in the Olympics.

I think I've been in most of these situations (except replace Olympics with Grade Six track meet), or been close to people who have. It's a nice reminder, when I sometimes feel like a morning is dragging on, or a week is taking forever to get through, that some people are living for mornings, days, weeks.
I am tired this morning, and I feel like I have a long, boring to-do list before work tonight. But rather than make today about paying property tax or ensuring bread rises well before dinner, I'm going to make it an outdoor lake adventure for me and my girl.

You've Got Mail

2011-06-13T13:15:00.000-07:00

Here in Whitehorse, our postal works have just taken their turn in the national rotating postal strike. I saw their picket line the other day as I drove down to pick up some specialty teas with Abby. When I saw them, I felt an unexpected wave of emotion. Then again, I shouldn't have been surprised: I always feel inspired when I see a group of people boldly declaring, "I believe in this." It may sound silly, but things like this make me feel slightly patriotic, thankful that I live somewhere this kind of expression and politics is acceptable.
Alright, maybe the possibility of the Stanley Cup returning to Canada and the coming of Canada Day is making me a little go-Canada lately. That and the new royal couple will be in my hometown on Canada Day: how cool is that?
In the meantime, I am glad the postal strike took effect before it could inconvenience me, of course. I had Father's Day and birthday gifts to send off to Ottawa, and I'm glad they are now en route.
I have always been glad to use the postal service, even in an age of electronic mail and instant messaging. I know my grama appreciates a nice hand-written card or letter from me every now and again. I think more than just those who lived through the Depression do as well. It takes extra effort and isn't very time-efficient, but who doesn't love sending and receiving mail for pleasure?
I love sending my friends cards and notes from up here. Even if it means that by the time it gets there, all the gossip and info has already been transported.
The cheap thrill of receiving mail has not left my spirit since I was a little girl who got postcards and letters in the mail from far away places. I still love the magic of holding something between my hands that was held by the sender many miles away. I love imagining an industrial production line taking my online purchase off of some giant warehouse shelf, putting it in a package with my name emblazoned on the top, and sending it up and away into the sky to reach my mailbox.
I will keep sending hand-written thank yous, and I will continue to send Abby's artwork to her grandparents, because they love it so much (or tell me they do).
I, for one, am completely appreciative of the postal system. I may not need it to correspond will billing companies. I do not depend on it for business. It is an international game to me, an activity of leisure that I willingly participate in for the sheer trill of getting letters and parcels in the mail. I love the mail for that Christmas-y birthday feeling of knowing that somewhere, someone sat and thought of me long enough to put something together, put it in the mail, and send it up to the Yukon.

The Wearing of the Green

2011-06-12T12:32:00.000-07:00

I used to love buying these Bolthouse Farm bottled smoothies that were dark green in colour and promised to be full of awesome fruits and veggies. They were, and I enjoyed how green and gross they looked. One day while I was knocking one back in the car, my Greek aunt reached for it, inspected it, handed it back and quipped, "no wonder you like it, it's full of sugar."
Deflation. I didn't buy them as often and any attempt to make it myself at home left me disappointed in a smoothie that tasted like gross vegetables, looked like swamp water, and left me with a blender mess to clean up.
I've always incorporated smoothies into our diet around here. Every couple of days we'll have one that's usually frozen berries, Greek yogurt, orange juice, flax seeds and a bit of spinach. Good, reliable, tasty and healthy. And sugar-free!
Recently, I started reading the blog, "Oh She Glows", and this girl kept writing about these green monster smoothies she makes. From the pictures she posted, they looked a vibrant green, and she promised they were healthy, sugar-free (and in her case, vegan). I figured if they were as easy as she promised, and as nutritious as she said, I could try again.
My first attempt included blueberries, so it turned out looking like swamp water. But it tasted good! Yesterday I tried a new combination and we struck healthy smoothie gold! (or, green)
I combined 2 cups of spinach, a tablespoon of ground flax seed, a cup of frozen mango chunks, a couple spoons of Greek yogurt, about a cup of orange juice and pressed, "smoothie" on our blender.
"Go, mama!" cried Abby. My little kitchen cheerleader.
It looked a vibrant shade of green, it tasted sweet and I swear I could taste the vitamin C. Deelish! Abby was a fan, too:

Busy Bees

2011-06-11T15:39:00.000-07:00

We're in the middle of a busy, to-do list kind of weekend. We've had a garage sale, I am working two book store shifts, we are doing doing the recycling and groceries, filling the BBQ tank with propane, cleaning the floors and the bathrooms, making pizza and bumbleberry pie, continually potty training and stopping once in a while to look around a bit (a la Ferris Bueller).
No time now to sit at the laptop as the sun has started peeking through the clouds, dinner needs making and the lawn needs cutting while someone plays with Abby!
Talk soon!

Eating clean is delicious

2011-06-09T14:15:00.001-07:00

Can I just say how happy I am to have found so many awesome sources for baking and cooking clean and healthy foods? I've not made any kind of decision about going vegan/vegetarian, gluten-free or really anything-free, but I love knowing that I can reduce the junky stuff without sacrifice yummy goodness.
Today Abby and I made "clean" chocolate cupcakes, and they are the most rich, decadent cupcakes I've ever had! No refined sugar, tons of cocoa and sucanat, (my new favourite discovery).
I love making meals that are genuinely chalk-full of nutrients, but that taste so yummy! Motherhood is a daunting task and a large responsibility, so finding ways to feed us all good, nutrient-rich food is like my version of producing an award-winning film. It requires creativity, expanding our horizons, hard work, persistence and payoff.
I'm also happy to say it hasn't cost us any more. That's big for me. I reduced our food budget a lot by largely staying away from the middle aisles at the grocery store, except for pasta, spices and bulk food staples like flour, oats and peanut butter. I make sure I buy produce in quantities just enough to feed us, or else use it for more than one meal in a week, to avoid waste. If I buy something that's more healthy but also costs more (like Sucanat, or Almond Milk), then I don't buy any snacks that week. Instead, I use our bulk stuff at home to make them. This week's sugar-free granola bars were a hit! They were high in fibre, had dried apricots in them and were sweetened with honey and black-strap molasses. All good stuff for our bods!
As Abby grows, I'm able to involve her in a lot more of the food preparation. This is very helpful, because then I don't have to distract her with something else, and I am learning that she eats much more when she is part of the cooking process. She loved helping with yesterday's beer can chicken by applauding, "Go chicken! Bawk-bawk!" every time I turned it on the grill.
I don't usually keep track of our food intake in a quantitative way, but I noticed that in the last few days, we have been able to eat awesome snacks and meals without any refined sugar in them! I'm proud of this, and encouraged by how little effort is required. Which is really the bottom line for me: healthy food cannot require I put any more effort in than a regular meal.
Tonight's going to be jerk chicken breasts, green peas and mini Yukon gold potatoes tossed in olive oil, salt, pepper and some thyme off of my plant! Then, I'm bringing my jar of hibiscus-lemon sun tea to work. Bring on the good food, if this is what eating healthy is all about!

Resetting the Connection

2011-06-08T13:36:00.000-07:00

This one time in university, I went to see a card reader, (under the persuasion of my mother-in-law). He offered a myriad of predictions in my 45-minute card spread: some were accurate, some were not. I asked him if, in my life, I would be afflicted by any major health issues. He said no. Today, I debate that. But he followed that up with warning me, "if anything, you have to be careful not to suffer from loneliness. It's not good for you and it can make you sick." Hmm.
I still have the tape of the session, but no cassette deck to play it on, as the march of technology moves on.
But his ominous warning forebodes in my mind.
Avoiding loneliness.
You could say it's another way of labeling my cure for boredom.
This card-reading session happened before I could ever have known I would be moving up and away to the Yukon, 5,000 km from life as I knew it.
Now that I've been here four years, I can attest that the Internet has proven a very helpful tool in my life, especially through the connections I've forged.
This blog, for instance, has connected me with people in my town and women across the country in an ongoing conversation. They have little thoughts to share with me on some posts, and I have little thoughts about theirs that I post. I feel like this really gets us somewhere: it adds new perspective to my understanding, it broadens my view, it makes me feel less alone.
An online forum I joined when pregnant with Abby has been valuable exposure to a great many women with all kinds of opinions, fears and shared experiences.
I have made Facebook friends with people I haven't met in "real life", but with whom I have exchanged written messages that have helped me through Abby's colic, parenting concerns, loss, and some menial difficulties.
I have made close friends with people I know up here, but with whom I have really connected over the Internet.
Sometimes the faceless expression of the written word is much easier a medium for me to express myself, and I don't deny that power.
Most of my family and good friends still live 5,000 km away, and through the channels of telephone, Skype, Facebook and this blog, I have been able to stay abreast of every one's goings-on. I love that Abby is reminded constantly of who her family is and what they look like through Sunday morning video calls. I love that even though I can't pop by my girlfriend's apartment this afternoon, I can still have a good, long conversation with her on the phone (while Abby watches Madagascar!)
These are all ways I see technology, at its best, improving my connections with people.
It helps keep loneliness and isolation at bay.
But so does effort.
I feel a pull to the other end of the scale, in my Libra-esque instinct to keep balance. I know that sometimes, connections and friendships are best forged by being present, showing up, and sharing thoughts over tea.
I may wish daily that I could see my faraway friends and family in person, but in the meantime, I am here. I am not a stranger in this place, nor do I want to be.
I love that I have a rapport with my grocery store checkout lady.
I love that after back-and-forth Facebook messages that get into some good, nitty-gritty confessions, we can pick right up in person over a warm drink at a downtown cafe.
I love that on a warm summer morning, I can step out in the front yard with Abby and start talking to any one of my neighbours, whom I know by name.
I love talking books with coworkers and customers at work.
I love the familiar moms and kids I see at parks and events across the city, all trying to have fun with our kids.
I never used to be someone who would be open to conversing with strangers. In Ottawa, my daily bus ride was an exercise in mindful meditation. I didn't need anyone else, my life was full of wonderful friends.
Here, out of my comfort zone and ever in a quest to avoid loneliness, I have had to step up to the plate. Now, I truly believe that strangers are just friends we haven't yet met.

In the Woods

2011-06-07T13:39:00.000-07:00

Usually, remembering to take Skylar for a walk feels like another chore to do in a day. Some days she gets neglected, and to many other "to-dos" top her in the priority sequence. Luckily, she is pretty forgiving of most everything we do to her, or forget to do. (I knew she was a great dog when she would let a naked Abby claw the inside of her eyelids to get a better grip in climbing over her).
Lately though, I've found ways to make a walk in the woods enjoyable for everyone. Once we get to the border of neighbourhood and nature path, I can unhook Skylar's leash and watch her fly through the bush, tearing in and out of the tall trees. She gets good exercise darting in and out, chasing trees, fetching thrown sticks, and running back and forth when I call for her.
Abby is happy to go for a short walk in the woods. She mimics Skylar's enthusiasm and begins tearing in and out of the brush. She stops to inspect ants marching, honey bees collecting pollen, berries that look enticing, and flowers that look like they need picking. She almost always walks with her fists closed tightly around dandelion stems, a stick, or a fallen twig with leaves still on it. While the two of us take our time squatting down to investigate a curious something further, Skylar happily weaves her way through the woods, or chases chipmunks, or stops to chew a tasty stick.
Abby enamours Skylar, so sometimes she enjoys chewing on a stick too. I think she looks like such a little goof with bark bits and wood chips falling from her mouth. I can only take comfort in the continued existence of our appendix, and am glad Abby's is getting some work these days.
Abby walks a good distance, maybe a kilometer or more, and Skylar probably runs four times that, with her back and forth-ing. And the mama gets some fresh air, a daily welcoming from the tree sprites, and a toddler's-eye view admiration for all things big and small in the woods.

Ambition

2011-06-06T13:33:00.000-07:00

We in the 21st century, the twentysomethings with the world at our feet and limitless possibilities before us are constantly challenged to "follow our bliss," do what "makes us happy" and find our passions. We are encouraged to dream big and then set out to achieve these goals. I love the whole notion of dreaming without limits and the potential in one's own life to make it. The "American Dream", coming from nothing to something, the limitless potential of the human spirit. I love it, and am so thankful to live in a time where I am not limited by my gender, my socioeconomic status or my geography.
At the same time, I have a problem with telling each other that we need to set our sights so high. That a life without big achievements, exotic travel, financial success is life of unreached potential. I think we need a bit more yin to this yang, a bit more focus on what makes a full life as opposed to what makes a full life by someone else's standards.
I know that if I wanted to climb the journalism ladder, report from foreign bureaus and write important books with my unique insight on a social issue, I could do it. It's empowering to know I could do it. But I also know I will have a full, happy life without it.
I have written my own life to-do list, and I have dreams for what my life will entail. But I don't need to achieve everything on it in order to feel fulfilled. I don't want to deny myself challenge, intellectual growth, adventure and experience, but I don't want to define myself with items to be checked off a list (as anti-A Type as that sounds).
I am always redefining for myself what a full, happy life means. I know what is important in my world, and I am learning how to take what blessings have been bestowed upon me and make something great with them. (I always believe that to whom much is given, much is expected). I have learned how to find happiness from a great many examples and sources, but I think Oprah sums it up nicely:

"Live from the heart of yourself. You have to make a living; I understand that. But you also have to know what sparks the light in you so that you, in your own way, can illuminate the world."

There is a difference between who we are and what we do, professionally. I love hearing stories of garbage truck drivers who find sublime happiness in running an after-school basketball program, or accountant who go home to bake the most delectable pastries to share with friends and family. These kind of anecdotes speak volumes to the value of carpe diem, finding one's light and knowing how to use it to better the world around them.
I am still learning; I hope I always am. But I know today that I am a mother, and I am tasked with nurturing the life of a little girl with vast potential and beauty. I am a wife, and I am to be a strong partner in life to someone who makes my own life so much more vivid. I am a daughter and sister in a family that is always evolving but is rooted in unchanging bonds. I am a friend to women navigating their own path, who call upon my enthusiasm, support and experience to better their journeys, and vice versa.
I am a writer who puts to words my musings for my daughter, my friends, my husband, my family and myself . It makes me feel alive to permanently record my journey, for posterity and for self-discovery.
I don't need to have a big house, an exciting job, a full passport, or a big dream to be happy. I am truly blessed to be living my dream, and growing on my journey.

Paring Down

2011-06-05T19:12:00.000-07:00

Today I was inspired to try a few new things to make use of what I have here already, pare down my budget, and drink straight from the bottle of bourbon in my liquor cabinet. (That's only because Rich was out of town while Abby cut a couple of molars, continued potty training and was super clingy amidst all of these grand changes in her life).
Other than wanting to abandon my young, lately I have wanted to put more effort into eating well, but economically. This is a relatively easy goal to set in the summer months when fresh fruits and veggies are shipped up the highway from BC at a significantly lower cost than in winter.
After living in this house for almost a year, I am learning that we can save a lot more money in the summer months, but we need to be vigilant about it now to seize the opportunity right. We don't have oil heating bills right now, groceries can be bought at cheaper costs, and activities outside are free and plentiful. Taking on a part-time job will help, although for the immediate future my earnings are being set aside for cross-country travel to two weddings.
I know that if we don't take advantage and save now, winter will be here again, then Christmas, and I'll be cursing past Sarah for not being an ant, as opposed to a grasshopper. (Remember that fable? I'm learning its lesson!)
To make sure we capitalize on summer's bounty while setting aside some savings, we have set a few guidelines. (Who am I kidding saying 'we'. It's me being a cheap scrooge and convincing Rich we will benefit down the road. He's usually on board unless it limits his coffee budget at work).
- Grow more herbs at home. I use them often in my cooking, and fresh herbs are always more fragrant and healthy. Organic fresh herbs at the grocery store can be expensive, but growing organic herbs at home leaves me an unlimited supply for the mere price of seeds and soil.
- Pack picnic lunches and eat them outdoors. Both activities are free, and encapsulate the essence of summer. Eating anything outdoors makes it taste better!
- Try to keep weekly grocery budget below $120, including supplies/toiletries. This is a toughie, but I'm determined. I meal plan, I make a shopping list, and if I can make something myself or get a no-name brand, I do it. Today I got our week's groceries for $85! (Although last week I bought club packs of meat, so this week I didn't need to buy any) I also look at the flyers for sales that week and either stock up on sale items or choose sale-price produce and meats for our meal plan.
- Car pool for long distances. We have a few out-of-town adventures planned, and if we are to go with another person or family we plan on combining our resources, or at the very least taking our car, which is better on gas than our truck.
-DIY: I am going to try making more things myself, when it's economical. Making my own granola bars is at the top of my list, and I'm currently making my own sun tea (that's when you steep ingredients like herbs or fruits in spring water in the hot sun for a day or two).
- And I'm still making my own bread, because when a loaf of whole grain at the store costs $5 or more, after being baked, shipped and sitting on a store shelf, it cannot compare to homemade, whole grain bread with no preservatives made for a cost of about 80 cents a loaf.
- We're also having a garage sale on the weekend to de-clutter,and hopefully make a bit of money to put towards patio furniture out on the back deck.I've been eyeing a few pieces and hopefully we can strike when they're on sale, or use the money towards our summer wedding travel (Abby and I are off to Regina in July, Rich is going to Quebec city for one in July, and Abby and I head to Ottawa for one at the beginning of September-ish!)
And now I am going to go do a yoga DVD (for free--much cheaper than a $10 drop-in fee!), and read my second-hand copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God.

North! (Actually, South) to Alaska!

2011-06-04T14:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, three girl friends and their toddlers crammed themselves into an SUV and drove to Alaska. It was a noisy, beautiful, energetic and whirlwind journey that I really, really needed.

“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” -Bill Bryson

Bryson is right, and what he's saying here relates to parenting as well. It's all a journey of seeing things through a new pair of eyes. Going on a trip, whether short or long, gives us a chance to experience the simple things anew: new setting, new sounds, new foods, new landscapes.
Ours was a landscape of soaring mountains, a smell of crisp seaside air, the sound of old trains, and the tastes of American treats like cherry coke, Pepperidge farm cookies and a lunch at an amazing little Thai place called Starfire.
It was rejuvenating, but how can travel not be? My body was taken from one scene and transported into another quite different. Some familiar characters were there with me (including one who whined through lunchtime and had us relegated to eating alone in a garden rather than disturb other Thai food enthusiasts. Oy).
We went to a place we'd all been before with our families, but it was almost luxurious to find the time for all three of us girl friends to go together, (even if it meant towing kids along). I loved the chance to dedicate an entire day to hanging out with my friends on an adventure.
And what adventure is complete without drama?
Abby cried, of course, and my friend's son kept leaving his tourist trinkets all over town, and on the way home we pulled over to the side of the highway for some very close but very cool bear encounters. Seeing wildlife is always invigorating and beautiful, but being within an arm's reach of a serene bear lying in a field of dandelions, munching away on a snack was pretty unique.
I had a great escape, and am juiced up about my next travel adventure!

My Hope

2011-06-02T14:12:00.001-07:00

It's intangible. It's incredibly difficult. It's a pattern. It's a choice. It's looking up, not down. It's holding on. It's a promise. It's a credo. It's a way to get through the tough stuff, and I could never let it go.
I know for some, it is easiest to let go of hope. I guess they feel that if they don't have hope, they can't be disappointed. Maybe that's true. If you don't have very high expectations, then meeting them isn't hard. Maybe it's easier to accept the tough stuff, the bad days, the sad news, when you never had any hope for better.
I wouldn't know.
I need hope. Hope gets me through. Hope is my answer, at the end of the day, when I've got no explanations left.
Hope is my soft place to fall, and I naively put all my eggs in hope's basket. I may be disappointed yet, but so far I've still got it. It may seem silly to keep holding onto hope, and I will say with certainty that it is harder. I'm not in this for an easy out, though.
Hope isn't a religion. It's not my guru or my shepherd. Hope is my light. Hope is my energy. Hope dances beside me and through me when I am asking tough questions. Hope gives me a good slap in the face when I start heading the other way and then, stunned, I still say, "thanks, I needed that."
Hope is my calling. Hope is my cult and I will unquestioningly drink it's Kool Aid. Hope is my mother and ancestry. Hope is my heart's song and divining principle. Hope is an unconditional love; it will never leave me.
Hope is here with me and lies beside me at night. Hope is with me when I make breakfast in the morning. Hope isn't something I'm working towards. Hope is here now. Hope isn't a destination. Hope is the route I'm taking on my journey.
I know that along with hope, I've got a lot of friends and family on my cheering squad, and that gives me great strength and comfort. I want you to know I feel it, thank you.
Hope is my beckoning call, and though it is sometimes loud and sometimes a murmur, I know it is unfailingly ready for me to call on it.

We Potty Hard

2011-06-01T13:25:00.000-07:00

I try to stay away from writing much about parenting. I haven't parented before, I'm by no means an expert, and anytime I go to a playgroup I'm sick of talking about parenting for a good few days anyways.
It is a major part of my day and the bulk of what I do, given Abby's young age, so it manages to find its way into my writing here and there, of course.
I have to share what we've been up to if not to relate then to at least expel this all-consuming obsession I was having with potty training.
I was nervous to start. I had found a nice rhythm with Abby and I really didn't want to interrupt it with harried sprints to the potty in the middle of Extra Foods with a half-full grocery cart left in the cereal aisle.
I didn't want to mess up her sleep, because we've been blessed with such a good, sleep-oriented kid.
I mostly didn't want to give myself more work, because I am prone to being self-indulgent and a little lazy, to be honest!
So you can see I built up a little anxiety over it. I knew Abby was ready, and I chastised myself that waiting any longer would only make it harder as she became set in her ways, and I in mine.
I'm four days in and like most parenting tasks I've tackled, it wasn't that bad.
I am getting a little stir crazy, though.
The last few days I have been sticking close to home, or rather, the potty.
I didn't want coffee dates and trips to the park spent changing wet undies or, worse, toting an actual potty around with me.
I often cringe a bit when my mommy friends make Facebook status updates about potty training. "2 pees and one poop today, yahoo!" just seemed a little TMI and a little self-depreciating to me. Today, I cannot deny how consuming a task it is. Potty training is the boss of our house right now. It dictates so much of what we do, but I can see we're making progress back toward the world of the living and spontaneous again.
Abby has picked up the idea and is learning her body cues, which is really what I'm trying to make it about. She's learning to hold it, and to save it for the potty, not a pile in the pantry closet.
She's done pretty well, I must say. And I am proud of being a patient Zen mama through the accidents, near-misses and false starts. I have kept my cool and tried hard to keep it a positive milestone for her.
Now, I am getting antsy. I miss my friends, whom I haven't seen much of anyway, and I miss the freedom of walks, hikes, parks. Abby is almost ready to move to the next phase and actually wear pants over her undies and leave the house to go places. I know there will be accidents, she'll feel bad, and I'll change a lot of outfits. That's the way I expect it to go. I just have to take the next step and try it!
So, if you've stayed with me until this point, I applaud all parents for potty-training their kids. I consider this another mom stripe earned, and add it to my sash, girl guide-style.

Summer Poem

2011-05-31T20:07:00.000-07:00

Assuming poetry is not a lost art amongst my fellow boredom-crushers, here is one of my favourites. Besides, I'm in a poetic, writing kind of mood.

"122" By Emily Dickinson

A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon — A depth — an Azure — a perfume — Transcending ecstasy. And still within a summer’s night A something so transporting bright I clap my hands to see — Then veil my too inspecting face Lets such a subtle — shimmering grace Flutter too far for me — The wizard fingers never rest — The purple brook within the breast Still chafes it narrow bed — Still rears the East her amber Flag — Guides still the sun along the Crag His Caravan of Red — So looking on — the night — the morn Conclude the wonder gay — And I meet, coming thro’ the dews Another summer’s Day!

In The Waiting Room

2011-05-30T13:38:00.000-07:00

It stands to reason that if one is bored, one should find a fulfilling activity to cure said boredom.
I thought I was just sad. Boredom, I thought, was a secondary symptom. I have read all kinds of literature (medical, support, nice e-mails from friends) that suggests when one is experiencing stress, one should make efforts to simplify life: to pare it down to the bare essentials so one's energy could be more efficiently used to hand life's challenges.
I did this. I simplified, I pared down, I re-aligned priorities and I waited. And waited. And still no pregnancy. Hmph.
So then I got kind of bored waiting. Should I plan a trip? I could, but what if I get pregnant? Should I plan to start a big project? Well, what if I have to cut it in three weeks if I find out I'm pregnant?
Should I complicate my life with new activities and more places to go? Wouldn't that add stress?
It turns out that on my journey, planning life and plans and goals around pregnancy is not a good idea. It has kept me on the sidelines, a little bit. And while I live a decidedly simple life, abide by routine, and eliminate stress, I have also missed out on the other end of the spectrum: spontaneity, fun, challenge.
It is summer. I can feel my energy levels rise and my thirst for adventure grow. I am so happy to have found warm, tank top weather that for the time being, I really don't mind if I don't get pregnant anytime soon. I like the idea that I could be the girl with the flat abs amongst a sea of preggos this summer. I like that I wouldn't be limited by early pregnancy exhaustion or a ban on cool, summer adult drinks. I've spent so long, waiting, hoping, wondering, that I now feel awakened and rebellious: take THAT illusive quest for pregnancy! It is summer, and I am getting bored, and I need some fun!
So, I have decided to spice things up a bit. I am going to forget all about pregnancy-related plans, worries and hopes. I've waited this long, and I've become quite good at it. What's another few months when they're spent in the sun, at the lake, eating BBQ?
I am taking back my summer.
To star, I took on a part-time job at a book store. It is low-stress, low responsibility, extra income, and stimulating conversation. I love talking books, knowing just which title to recommend, chiming in with my thoughts on Room or The Bell Jar. I love talking to tourists, because it makes me feel more like this is my home, my turf. I love the task of shelving books and discovering all kinds of new titles.
It means I miss out on some time with Abby at the end of the day, but you know what? It makes me appreciate my time at home with her more. I treasure the nights I can bathe her and put her to bed. Same goes with Rich: we know have limited evenings together so we make them count. And weekends? Oh man, we are carpe diem-ing the bejeesus out of our weekends together.
I am finding all kinds of adventures in hidden places and seizing them as they arise.
I am breaking out of the stagnant, mundane waiting room; it's not much fun in there and the wait seems longer when you've nothing to do but count days on a calendar.

Summer is Coming, Part 2

2011-05-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

One of the most frequent questions I am asked by Outsiders* is, "how dark is it there?" No matter what time of year, people assume it's dark all the time, because they heard that 'somewhere'. I enjoy telling them that in Whitehorse during the winter, it is indeed pretty dark, but the sky is still light between 10 am and 2 pm, with true darkness setting in at 4pm. (which isn't all that different from Ottawa, where I grew up).
In the summer, on the longest day, it hardly gets dark at all. As we get closer to June 21 (the solstice), nighttime becomes something we hardly see. It is light out when I go to bed about 11 and warm morning sun is already streaming in when I awake around 7. I haven't seen a star in months, and likely won't again until the end of August.
This abundance of sun means a few things.
For one, plants grow at an increased speed. This is really cool to see firsthand, like with my friend Johanna's crazy bean sprouts that are already monstrous after being planted mere weeks ago.
Also, when I get to doing projects after Abby's gone to bed, I often feel as though it's much earlier than it is. It's not unusual for me to be heavily involved in baking or reading before I check the clock and realize it's getting close to midnight. During summer, I always feel like I have all the time in the world to get things done.
The longer days also mean heat. Without much nighttime, there isn't much chance for the weather to cool down. In the Yukon's northernmost community, Old Crow, it's typical for houses to have air conditioning systems built in, because it is sunny all day long up there. During eight-month winter it's regularly -30 in Old Crow, but come summer months it's a scorcher nearly every day.
I took these pictures of the sky the other night, as I let Skylar our for one last pee before bed. Beautiful sunset just before the sun tucked itself away behind the mountains for an hour or so of rest before rising again!

* the term we Yukoners use for those who live South of the 60th parallel

Summer is coming

2011-05-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

I know summer is on our doorstep because there's an extra bit of energy in the air. It makes the plants grow fast, my smile spread wider, and the sparkling waters of Yukon lakes entrancing.
The days are long, and the hours of sun give my to-do list much more space in which to be accomplished. I am finding more reasons to eat, play, rest and work outside.
Activities with Abby are all free again: parks, picnics, outdoor concerts, walks on Main Street. The sun's commitment to stay awhile longer gives us more time to reconnect, find warmth and joy in each other, and dance the days away.
We have worked hard to get here: weathering eight-month winters, snowstorms that caught me by surprise, dark skies and cool winds.
Now, it is time to celebrate. There is a bounty of beautiful, fresh food at my grocery store. My neighbours and friends are all outdoors again after hibernating, ready to greet us. We eat outside because it tastes better that way, it feels better to be out, like we're escaping and we better soak it up now.
Which is true, with seasons of course. Summer is finite, and we're on the edge of it's exploding arrival.
I am all about the carpe diem, sucking the marrow out of the days, finding that in every moment I feel like summer.
Bring on the tourists, the road trips, the ice cream cones, the freezing lakes, the sandy shoes, the smell of coconut sunscreen, the car washes, the garage sales, the oversize sunglasses, the flowing skirts, the backyard kiddie pools, the colourful cooking, the tropical drinks, the highlights in my hair, and the joyful song in my heart that welcomes the entrance of summer, and respite from the cold, darkness.

Long live the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer, at long last.

Dance to the Music

2011-05-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

I was given the gift of music in my house when I was growing up, and I am thrilled to pass it on to Abby.
I started in utero. She would kick back at me when I played Coldplay's Yellow over headphones on my swollen belly, and that song is now one of her lullabies. These days, we dance for breakfast, bop through lunch, and get our sillies out via insane-looking body shakes after dinner to some up-tempo beats. She sings her alphabet, puts her thoughts to a tune, and hums jibberish little ditties I so love. Abby loves music and I love it right along with her.
When she was five months old and we were home in Ottawa, my dad's stage band put on a free outdoor show at a farmer's market one Sunday morning, so my mother-in-law and I took Abby down. She bopped in her sling, and nursed under a tree to a beautiful rendition of Take Five, and Live music in a park on a beautiful summer day with my baby: life is pretty great, I thought. I vowed to continue giving Abby the gift of music as she grew.
I say it is a gift because it is something that can be given. It is something we choose to integrate into our lives, and a means of expression I want Abby to know. Right now, she is upstairs in her room singing a repetitive, high-pitched melody in her bed while she is supposed to be napping. It is music to my ears.
In Whitehorse during the summer, we are extremely fortunate to be treated to live, free concerts in the park nearly every weekday from May until August. The season has just kicked off again this year, so today for lunch Abby and I brown-bagged it and brought ourselves down to arts in the park for some live music. (The best kind!)
There are typically local musicians performing, and today was a double-header: a female singer-songwriter with a beautiful bird-like melodic voice (names Crystal Dawn, how Yukon hippie is that?), and a duo that included a banjo.
Abby was hardly by my side for a breath. She was up dancing with the other little ones, running in circles, bumping into each other, laughing and two-stepping all over the lawn. She carried a dandelion in one hand and a piece of lunch in the other, fixated on the musicians on stage. I can't be sure she got much food down the hatch, she was so enthralled (and this is a kid who LOVES food).
We were joined by some friends she greeted and shared her enthusiasm with. Between songs, she applauded appropriately and yelled with great glee, "Wow! Music!"
As her mama, I couldn't have been more in love with her: running with her dandelion, free-style dancing to some great live music in the park on a sunny Friday at lunch.

Goodbye

2011-05-26T13:24:00.000-07:00

Anytime anyone has to say goodbye, in a permanent way that stretches a soul's fabric until it rips and is torn away, I get teary. I don't even need to know the person. Goodbyes make me sad. I can easily comfort myself with knowing more adventures are ahead (or I can comfort myself by saying, "Hey Sarah, you don't actually know these people, it's OK"). But the goodbye moment is sad, because I call up all the memories, routines, visits, familiarity and say goodbye to the comfort of it all. I wonder if and when I'll ever see them again. And will it ever be the same?
I know it sounds like I'm segueing into a deep review of moments I've said goodbye to people in my transient life, but I'm actually gearing up to talk about TV.
When Friends ended its run, I totally bawled. I had grown through my teenage years watching the show. I had got the Rachel haircut. I had watched it with my own girlfriends. I had tried so hard to copy Rachel's style, and I feel in love with the Bohemian lifestyle of being a single twentysomething in NYC.
But this was different.
Oprah's a real person, and she has been my biggest spiritual role model. I literally grew up watching her: I began viewing her show alongside my mom while she nursed my infant little brother. I watched her when I was at my most influential, and she filled my head with thoughts of my future, of writing, of ambition. I learned how to work through teenage feelings of inadequacy, and how to demand more from the world around me. She always said, "People will treat you how you let them treat you."
I learned about integrity and, from an early age, of being responsible for one's self. I made a lot of mistakes growing up, and I'm thankful I understood that there was no one to blame but myself, because shouldering the responsibility for the consequences helped me mature into someone I like today.

"Nobody but you is responsible for your life. It doesn't matter what your mama did; it doesn't matter what your daddy didn't do. You are responsible for your life. ... You are responsible for the energy that you create for yourself, and you're responsible for the energy that you bring to others."

I started to read through her book club selections the summer I lifeguarded outdoors at a very quiet swimming pool. I learned so much about the beauty and frailty of the human connection. I discovered books that used impeccable language to convey simple lessons that are often complicated to abide by. I really believe my love of the written word manifested under my beach umbrella that summer.
I have a lot of favourite episodes, and I integrated so many mantras and phrases of hers into my understanding and perspective. I know I am one of millions who has a story about how Oprah's show made a footprint on their lives.
She is a self-made woman, which I admire, and she has learned a lot through her life. I am glad she decided to have a final episode that gave her the chance to share her wisdom. She finished her show yesterday with words I will re-visit for the rest of my life.

"You're worthy because you are born and because you are here. Your being here, your being alive makes worthiness your birthright. You alone are enough."

I benefited from hearing this message from her and from my family throughout my life, but not everyone hears this. I hope that in my life, I can convey to everyone I care about that they are worthy, and that they matter to me.

"Try it with your children, your husband, your wife, your boss, your friends. Validate them. 'I see you. I hear you. And what you say matters to me.'"

The greatest gift I can give, I believe, is this feeling Oprah describes as being validated. It is so simple; no wonder it gets overlooked as a priority. My family, my friends are important to me.
I'm at a stage in life where I'm learning so much about what it is to be an adult, a mother, a friend by choice and not just because we have the same classes. I am sad to say goodbye to Oprah and her show, which was really a platform for her and her guests to help me navigate my road, with dignity and tact.
I don't think I'll ever stop feeling like there's something for me to learn, but after all these years learning from Oprah's show, I am sad to say goodbye to it. In true Oprah fashion, though, I am incredibly grateful for the ability all these years to gleam some wisdom and some exposure to new ideas that have really shaped who I am, and who I am still becoming.

Our House, in the middle of our street

2011-05-24T14:06:00.001-07:00

Spending the long weekend at home wasn't a rare treat. It wasn't an escape from reality, or a long pined-for chance to stay home. It was a blissful extension of our day-to-day life, with the added bonus of an extra day with Daddy.
We have lived here for almost a full calendar year and our house is our home. Its off-white carpet has been cleaned repeatedly after hairballs and diaper blowouts. Its walls have been wiped and re-wiped of oily, cereal-encrusted hand prints. Its floors have felt the consistent thumping of enthusiastic toddler feet running all over its floorspace. Our house is well lived-in, it is our own, a reflection of who we are and were we've been.
It does not sit idle, day after day, waiting for its inhabitants to return and fill its space with music, laughter and shrieks of delight. We deliberately chose this house, cognizant of the price tag it bore, because we knew we would get the most bang for our buck by really living in it. We have chosen to live a life in this house, where I stay home with Abby, and where Skylar and Goober can count on their people being around most days.
This house is not just the space we return to at day's end to eat and sleep. This house holds our activities, our lives. It cocoons us through long winter, sheltering us against frigid cold. It holds us in tight under blankets and in warm air as we hibernate.
It lets summer in through open windows and shades as we celebrate its bounty through long, sunny days. It gives us reason to spring clean and garden, celebrating the good fortune we have to own a home.
This house has been a passion project. It is a house paid for with hard work. It is a house symbolic of what we can achieve together, and of what rewards can come to those who sacrifice for the big picture.
This weekend, I walked up the stairs from the basement, and I took notice of how familiar I felt. I scanned the living room: Abby's toy trough, her mini piano, our over-stuffed couches, our bookshelf, our giant giraffe, our wind chimes, our front closet filled with out rain boots, fleece jackets and sunglasses. I looked around and I felt as though everything were in its place, whether or not it was strewn on the floor or properly organized.
We live a life where frequent moves have been and are the norm. It is always a matter of how long until the movers come, pack our belongings and bring them to another home. To feel a sense of belonging this weekend, of "this is exactly right" gave me great comfort and something like pride in our house.
I love this house. It has been made a home by our guests, illness, Christmas, baked bread and dinner parties. It has shut its doors and incubated us through difficult, tough times. It has welcomed friends and family as we celebrate what it is to live here in Whitehorse with a little girl.
As I get ready to do things for a second time in this house (second summer, second 'longest day' BBQ, second Halloween and Christmas), I feel a quaint ownership and a real sense of accomplishment in this nest.

Mish Mash

2011-05-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

Here's a little collage of what our weekend has been:

Fresh Cilantro

Many mangoes

Chocolate freezer pie

Blue icing cake

Hikes in the misty moisty rainy woods

Watching The Fighter with Rich and wine spritzers

Walking with Abby on my shoulders, holding onto my head tight for dear life

Hanging flower baskets

Watching "Life" with Abby, who loves the fish

Seeding the grass

Sleeping in

Sipping hot Ovaltine

Homemade quesadillas

In our Fort

2011-05-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

This was to be our first May long weekend in our very first home, and I approached it with great aspirations of domesticity. We will garden! We will fix the gate! We will bake bread! We will seed the grass!
I think we've struck a beautiful balance between crossing items off a list and stopping to smell the roses.
Yesterday was a beautiful, warm, sunny, Yukon Saturday. We woke up, ate our cinnamon-blueberry waffles and hit the ground running. We picked up flowers, shrubs, bushes, some vines, some potting soil and some gravel, and headed home with our loot. I couldn't wait to get into a tank top!, shorts!, and sandals!, for the first time this season. I set up shop in front of my empty brown garden plot and Abby swiftly ran off with my gardening gloves. (It turns out, they make for great 'running-away-and-playing-on-the-neighbour's-swing set' gloves).
With the gardening now complete, I felt supremely accomplished and satisfied. From my front window, I am now treated to an array of colours, leaf textures, and the promise of more buds to come.
I got in a good hike with my faithful retriever, and finished the day a carpe diem-rocking exhausted, the kind where you fall asleep before your head hits the pillow.
Today we had plans to head out of town with some friends, but the weather told us instead to stay home:

We made today a family day! We got a movie, picked up supplies at Wal-Mart, chose delectable-looking produce at the grocery store and treated ourselves to lunch at a new cafe in town. We're now home, hunkered down, ready to hibernate with each other. That means baking bread so the house smells like home, and so our bread needs for the week are met. It means making forts and laughing in them until someone farts and we all run out. It means sipping tea while lazily flipping through a new cookbook, inspiring myself to integrate more fruits and veggies onto our plates.
I love family days. Rapture or Armageddon or the end of the world, I would happily spend the rest of my days or my last day spent exactly like this.

Friday Muffins

2011-05-20T12:02:00.000-07:00

Abby agrees: making our own food, chalk-full of nutrients (and chocolate chips) is the best medicine. Especially if it means she gets to lick the bowl afterwards.
We made banana chocolate chip muffins this morning, ate them with a side of pear, and headed to the park for some Vitamin D, and a healthy dose of sand; as my mother-in-law would say, "Abby's going to have a really strong immune system!"

Mangoes for Breakfast

2011-05-19T09:01:00.000-07:00

My little sunshine is so happy in the mornings. When I crack open the door to her room, I am usually greeted with an, "Oh! Mommy!", a smile, and a gibberish recounting of her thoughts from the previous night. I open her curtains, and we slowly start the day with Skylar's body being used as Abby's pillow, while I change her diaper.
Today , she slept in a bit, and when she woke up she was just in a funk: crying, whining, congested, trying to cry louder but impeded by the difficulty of breathing with all that extra snot in there.
Neither Skylar nor her mama could console her, so I left her to wake up slowly on her own. I felt so bad for her, because I was sure she'd prefer to wake up happy and healthy, too.
I went into the kitchen and knew what to do:
I peeled and cut a mango, so she could get some Vitamins A and C to fight off this cold. I toasted some of our homemade bread and put honey and cinnamon on it, to make up for the calcium she'd miss out on with milk. (When one of us is congested, I cut out dairy so the afflicted can have an easier time flushing out the boogies). I got sippy cups of water at the ready so she could sip on them all morning and start flushing out the cold.
This morning was loud, whiny and out of the ordinary, but it reminded me how prevalent our shift has been from medicine to food. Instead of going to the cupboard for drugs, I went in and got the eucalyptus-olive oil rub I made to spread over her little chest, like a homemade Vicks Vaporub. Instead of giving her cough syrup or some homeopathic anti-cold medicine, I gave her food with the right vitamins to help her out.
I felt a little tickle in my throat, so instead of cough drops or Robitussin, I gargled warm salt water, and had a warm cup of tea with honey, and my throat feels much better.
I'm learning a lot about what food can do to help us when our immune systems might need a helping hand. It makes me feel a much more researched and prepared mama to know that with a stocked fridge and pantry, I can help fix so many maladies.

Word Porn

2011-05-17T21:01:00.000-07:00

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

In the 1960s, a woman sat to write a book that changed the literary world. It gave a voice to the young, black girl. It gave words to the struggle to find right in an era of racism. It gave a spotlight to a supremely talented writer who went on to pen books that will serve as social commentaries of history during her years. Toni Morrison's book The Bluest Eye later won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1993.

I found it when I was in between my first and second years of university, and I ate it up whole.

I read The Bluest Eye in three days, flat.

I sit now at my desk, years later, having just finished reading it for a second time. This is certainly a book I will visit again and again, because it's not a story that hangs on plot, but on language. That is not to say it is lacking in plot. The story could be any neighbourhood's story. But the characters, and the depth within them which Morrison reveals, paint a picture of humanity. She gives humanity and compassion to every character in The Bluest Eye, even the ones who do terrible things like rape their daughter, or shun a girl just because she's ugly.

The story follows a young girl, Pecola, for a year in her life, and weaves in and out of narratives of incest, racism, child molesting, cruelty and class structure.

The title refers to Pecola's desire to have blue eyes so that all the ugliness she feels would disappear, and people would learn to love her despite her otherwise black skin and ugly beauty.

I've mentioned before that I have a great interest in books with themes of racism, especially pertaining to that of the southern states.That got me to pick up this book, but what will keep me returning to this story is Morrison's words.

This novel is word porn. Toni Morrison's soliloquies on inequality, beauty, sacrifice, and yearning are told with precision, simplicity and a sharp focus. Her writing is beautiful.

On women conversing in the kitchen:

"Their conversation is like a gently wicked dance: sound meets sound, curtsies, shimmies, and retires. Another sound enters but is upstaged by another: the two circle each other and stop."

She continually sweeps me into a dance: sometimes slow and sweet, sometimes fast and chaotic, but she keeps me in step and on rhythm with her words. I am probably going to spend the rest of the evening researching her work as a professor of writing so I can learn more about where her genius takes root in practice.

I love, love, love this book and I will greedily hang on to it to read over and over until I am lulled into an effortless use of beautiful words, like Morrison does in The Bluest Eye.

View all my reviews

Simplicity

2011-05-16T14:31:00.000-07:00

How can one go into the woods and not call up Thoreau quotes to try and better illustrate the magic one feels?
It's a magic that permeates souls quietly, nevertheless replacing the makeup that was there before. It calls one to find joy in building, setting and stoking a fire. Joy in a simple task, one that is out of the ordinary.
I say it's magic, this feeling I get in the woods, because it's unexplainable, immeasurable, but real. It transforms me, briefly, into a woman who can feel the wind blow over the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck, and nothing else. I become quiet and introspective, as I exist simply. I am never alone in the woods, and I am free to think, feel, and ask whatever arises inside. The woods are a land of food, water, warmth, and love, and nothing else is required.
It is a welcome reproach from busy, a foray into the woods. Whether a quick trip to walk Skylar, a picnic at the lake, or a weekend at the cabin, I am always greeted by a persuasive wind that asks me to live simply, as it blows by my ear.
I heard the call this weekend, and I memorized it so I could bring it home. I used it to remind myself my day need not be filled with activities. Being a parent to Abby can bring joy whether we're in Wal-Mart getting groceries or on the trail, flicking mud with sticks. Setting expectations that cater to simplicity brings markedly more joy when those expectations are met. Subsequently, I feel that fully satisfied feeling I found in the woods, surrounded by family with good food in my belly. It was a peace that came about with knowing my needs are met and the rest of the blank page was mine to fill.

I choose to fill it simply:
Warm cups of Ovaltine, like my Dad used to make me.
Saying yes when it makes me happy and no when it won't.
Making forts and reading books and tickling my little sprite.
Buying groceries and sharing my food love with Abby in the produce section, before coming home and preparing it with renewed enthusiasm.
Sleeping well and enough, so I can be my best self.
Breathing in as much fresh air as possible.

How better to conquer a sadness than by refocusing my gaze, blurring the edges and finding joy in a simplicity that's been there all along?

"Beware the barrenness of a busy life." ~Socrates
Amen, old Greek guy

Back from the Cabin

2011-05-15T18:13:00.000-07:00

We're all back from the cabin with sore backs, smiles on our faces, and the ability to sit together without saying a word because we are so satisfied.
We had a rough hike in. Lesson learned: sometimes a short cut comes with some added complications that make it not-so-short when you are knee-deep in mud, and have a kid strapped to your back crying, "I want to go home!"
We ventured in with another family of three, and I'm impressed that none of us lost it. Everyone stayed pretty calm and united in our quest to reach the cabin come hell or, in our case, high water.
Once we arrived, the rewards presented themselves immediately.
The mountains at the cabin are the closest I have ever felt to God. I'm not one for writing about my spirituality (because it's so personal and complicated), but I will say that these mountains leave me speechless, with a small tear welling in my eyes (that I try to hide from everyone) and a feeling of instant serenity.
This trip to the cabin has left me singing the praises of family lovin'.
I bonded hard with my little mountain girl. We cuddled up close at night in our bunk, and I was lulled into deep sleeps to the sound of her light, airy breaths. We fought against nature together on our hike in, and later we rejoiced as we ran along the rocky shore, free.
One afternoon, I sat on the smooth pebbles on shore and watched as she ceaselessly threw stone after stone into the turquoise water for her best friend, Skylar, to retrieve. She wouldn't relent, even for bribes of candy. To see her undying love for the water made my heart sing. I swear, I was mere moments away from my very heart swelling and bursting out of me in the form of sunbeams all over that lake. Sounds messy, I know, but it was a great feeling.
I fell in love all over again with my one and only. We held hands and rubbed each other's backs, and forgot about everything going on in real life. We returned to being just us two, our family's foundation.
At night, when the kids were asleep, we stayed up playing board games, giggling, and eating treats. I laughed so hard my sides hurt. I haven;t been so carefree and happy in a long time.
Now, we're home, and I hope it isn't long before I am back at the cabin, back in the mountains, being reminded to keep looking at the big picture.

Checking Out

2011-05-13T09:37:00.000-07:00

Once in awhile, routine that is comfortable, predictable, helpful becomes monotonous. The same rhythm of breakfast, movie, get dressed, play, lunch, nap, etc. makes for some fun mornings, but it also gets me into a sedentary groove.
Variety, they say, is the spice of life.
And I'm all about the carpe diem.
So, this weekend we're breaking free of the routine: no phones, no electricity, no running water, no shopping, no errands, no playgroups, no parks. We're taking our family (and another) an hour and a half out of the city, and into the mountains. We'll park our trucks at the side of the highway in the Kluane National Park, and hike into a cabin. It will be a rough hike, and I'm told there's snow. I know that this cabin sits right next door to the tallest peaks I've ever seen, in a range used by mountaineers to practice for Everest climbs.
I know we'll have an adventure, one way or another.

I'm so excited to be going back to one of my favourite places, with the people I love. I am hoping the fresh air and new scenery gives my poor heart a chance to air out some of the stagnant must that's been sitting in there.
Taken the last time we were at the cabin.
I really, really hope some of this snow is gone!

You Tube Gold

2011-05-11T16:54:00.000-07:00

I'm not one for stealing and re-posting other people's work. But today on this 11th of May, it is snowing in Whitehorse, I am slightly perturbed and as I searched desperately for reasons to smile (other than, of course, my beautiful daughter and delicious meals and good friends, etc.), I came across this gem:
It is so wrong. And so awesome.
Please go and pee your pants laughing while you're supposed to be doing other way more important things, because this video strikes at the very heart of why I have a child: to entertain me into my old age.

Award-winning

2011-05-10T13:47:00.000-07:00

From time to time I have met great friends and found great support in sharing with people I've never met, and that is part of the appeal of blogging, to me. You'll recall I started this blog when living in the isolated northern town of Ross River (population 250-ish), and it was a great social outlet when there weren't otherwise many for me!
Since taking the plunge and deciding to share some of the tougher stuff I've been going through on my blog, I have been rewarded with great connections to other women who have gone/are going through some of the same heartaches.
One of those is through this blog: http://ivfbug.blogspot.com/
And today she awarded me my first blog award, "The Versatile Blogger"! I don't totally understand blog awards, or where they come from, or what they do. But it feels like a warm hug and nod of appreciation, so I'll take it!
As a rule now, I'm to share 10 little-known facts about myself for your entertainment, and perhaps to further prove I am a versatile blogger. Either way, I enjoy lists!

1- I am a descendant of Charles Evans Hughes: An American presidential candidate, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Secretary of State and Governor of New York.
2- I ask anyone who visits me from down South to please, pretty please, bring cheese curds. I love them so.
3- I broke both bones in my left forearm in sixth grade when I was on top of a cheer-leading pyramid, and then suddenly I wasn't.
4- I started a newspaper at my elementary school called, "St. Francis Speaks," where I was editor-in-chief and key reporter, already knowing what I wanted to do in life.
5- I streaked through my high school with my best friends as our grad prank.
6- I sailed aboard HMCS Calgary on a field assignment for the national defence newspaper.
7- I am a certified scuba diver, and I've dove amongst a pod of dolphins and a few sharks too!
8- I cannot handle milk in the mornings.
9- Growing up, I had a penpal in Santorini, Greece (with whom I've visited and am still friends) and another in Bahrain (have no idea what ever became of her).

10- My maiden name is Scottish and the family motto is, "with prudence prevail", or, in other words, be cocky to get ahead.

My Dad and I doing a buoyancy check diving off of Turks and Caicos in 2007.

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T14:00:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is kind of a funny holiday, to me. I'm a full supporter of the idea behind it: taking one day aside to put your mama first. Lord knows the other 364 days, that same concerted effort isn't always there.
And it's a wonderful chance to reflect on how thankful we are to have a mother.
But it's not like that for everyone.
I remember it being a tough project at the school in Ross River, because some kids were not thankful for their mothers. Some hadn't seen their mother in years. Some never had. It broke my heart to think the day would come and go, reminding them of what kind of mom they were "supposed" to have.
And what about the woman who would sell her soul to be a mother. Sure, she can celebrate her mother's guidance and love. But the day causes her gut-wrenching, jaw-tightening pain because she wants so bad to be let into the club of mothers who are celebrated. It's a publicly-recognized reminder of the sadness she feels every day.
Or those who have lost their mothers? I always feel bad for my Dad, whose mother died when I was nine, because who does he celebrate today? He misses her, I know, and we miss her too. It's a reminder, a marker of another year passed without her.
I don't mean to detract from the day's celebrations by bringing everyone down. Nay, I hope thinking of those without mothers, or who aren't mothers, gives you a reason to celebrate even bigger. If you're a mother, you're living the dream. Maybe it wasn't your dream, maybe it started off as a terrifying slip of good judgement, but nonetheless, today is Mother's Day. If you are a mother, or if you have a mother you love dearly, you owe it to this sensitive, complicated, deep-rooted love to celebrate it.
You only get one mother, and however you came into her life, you are each other's soul mirrored.

These are the beautiful Begonias Abby picked out for me, all by herself I'm told.
She loves them just as much as I do! I love that they're potted,
so I can continue enjoying them for years to come.

A Saturday Morning Post

2011-05-07T09:46:00.000-07:00

Let me set the scene:
It's a lovely Saturday morning, and the high sun is already pouring in the front bay windows and through the stained glass front door, which throws rainbows onto the walls (in which Abby delights). The house smells like bacon. I took the happy opportunity to wake up at my normal hour, before everyone else woke up after a late night. I sat in quiet, read some of my favourite blogs, and watered the herbs. When I could hear a soft little voice reciting stories from her bedroom, I started the bacon in the fry pan before I climbed the stairs. I smiled the closer I got to her door, preparing to let laughter, loud exclamations and music replace the quiet start of Saturday morning.
We all ate our breakfast together, which is a treat. Abby requested her ye-yo (oatmeal, not the illicit street drug), and Rich asked for scrambled eggs. I flipped the bacon, turned on the kettle, cracked the eggs, and set the radio to the Top 100 station. (When I was little the soundtrack to every Saturday was Rick Dee's Top 40). Rich started his coffee (I love the aroma of coffee and wish I could wear it as a perfume). Abby danced to her favourite songs with her rainbow skipping rope. Over the sizzle of bacon and the thickening of eggs and milk, I heard the sounds of a happy household and thought to myself how wonderful this Saturday morning is.
We are in no rush today. We are treated to an empty Saturday, ours to fill with walks, trips to the park, grilled cheese sandwiches and sidewalk chalk as we see fit.
Thank goodness. :)

Prayer for My Daughter

2011-05-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

Bossypants by Tina Fey

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I just finished reading Tina Fey's 'Bossypants', and it didn't take long. It was part-autobiography-part-30 Rock Promo-part sarcastic conversation about modern feminism. I enjoyed the read for entertainment, and you'd have to be in the right mood for it. I wouldn't say it was amazing, and it's not a book you have to read, but it's enjoyable fluff. And I have loved SNL since I was old enough to stay up that late, so the behind-the-scenes stuff was fun to read.
Bar none, though, my favorite part of the book was her Prayer for her Daughter. In light of Mother's Day coming up, I thought I'd re-post it for your enjoyment. Note where she says, "Youdammit"--classic!

Tina Fey's Prayer For Her Daughter

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her
When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short - a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day - And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a B.itch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that S.hit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

- Excerpt from Bossypants

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