Hippie Chick in the Big City

I have to say, the mom-cation was a huge success. I made it into Vancouver in time to meet a great friend for some good Indian food at a place downtown called Sanafir. I did feel a bit like a hippie chick from the country amidst the done-up glam of Granville Street on Friday night. Thankfully at almost-40, this is more of an amusing anthropological observation than an insecurity-inducing one. There was an aspect of walking down memory lane that night, too. Trying to remember the last time I'd been to The Roxy. Trying to remember what the name of that bar on the corner used to be when I saw Michael Bublé play there oh so many years ago. (As an aside, that guy's got a bit of the Dick Clark time-warp thing going for him. He still looks exactly the same as he did back then.)

Saturday was a lovely, ambling mix of coffee shops, yoga class, a guitar lesson and an afternoon of wandering Main Street (one of the best places for people-watching in the city). In my wanderings I, of course, managed to pick up a little something for my monkey - Chimp Sticks for our trips to Noodle Box. Maybe it was being without much of a schedule amidst other people's busy-ness. Maybe it was being someplace familiar, yet outside of my day-to-day. Maybe it was simply having a day to cater to my own whims. Whatever it was, I emerged from that day feeling peaceful, relaxed, clear and energized at the same time. Which was immensely helpful when I had to scrub washable crayon out of the couch yesterday.

I dare say I've started a bit of an epidemic amongst my friends; now everyone wants a mom-cation. I could not be more proud. We spend so much time putting our energy into other people that it's sometimes easy to forget about ourselves. After one quick weekend the well has been refilled; I feel more centered in myself and have more to give. So, if you feel like you're running on fumes, take a break. You can't be there for your loved ones if you're falling apart yourself.

The Mom-cation

Have you seen the movie "Date Night"? There's a scene in which Tina Fey's character describes her ultimate fantasy. It involves a hotel room, a lunch, and a diet Sprite (I wonder how much Sprite paid for that mention?) All by herself, no interruptions. That one scene validated something I've been telling my husband for a couple of years now - I need a mom-cation. Not that I'm complaining about my life; life is pretty good. However, with every job, every role we take on, it's important to take a break once in a while. Catch our breath, recharge our batteries, gain some perspective. Just a tiny bit of time off from being "the mom."

We're not talking about months or weeks, here. Not even days, really. Just one day. One 24-hour period in which I'm not responsible for anyone's needs but my own. One day that I don't have to think about juice boxes or snacks or what's for dinner. One day in which getting in the car to go somewhere is not a half-hour process. One day without having to locate someone's slippers/ tractor/ thing with the yellow thing on it/ favourite t-shirt/ car keys/ insert random object here. And, on that note, one day without having to worry about someone inserting random objects into random places. I don't think it's too much to ask. Luckily, my husband agrees. Mostly because he recognizes that being the at-home parent is non-stop job in which you live at the office, but I suspect also in part because he wants to continue to be able to go on surf trips whenever the occasion arises.

So, this weekend, I'm doing it. I found an inexpensive B&B within walking distance to some good restaurants, a yoga studio and some quirky shops. I'm going to wander, and breathe, and follow my thoughts through to their natural completion. I'm going out with a girlfriend and having a conversation without distractions. I'm going to eat delicious food without having to cook or clean-up. I'm going to choose a restaurant based on what I want to eat, rather than what's on their kids menu. I'm going to read my book, do some yoga, take a guitar lesson and go to a movie. And sleep - oh, am I going to sleep. I may just take random naps around the city. In short, I'm going to do whatever the heck I want to do without having to account for anyone else. For two nights and one blissful day. I'm sure I'll miss my hubby & son far more than they miss me - they're looking forward to their first boys weekend ever. I've heard whispered plans of riding bikes, going swimming and playing video games. I have complete faith in their ability to survive two nights without me.

Signs you may need a mom- (or dad-) cation:

1. You've started to refer to yourself in the third person as "Momma" or "Poppa," and not only to your kid(s).
2. You suspect that "no" has become the primary word in your vocabulary.
3. Family vacations have begun to feel like business trips, because you're doing the same job, just in a different setting.
4. You catch yourself referring to the bathroom as "the potty" to anyone over 5 or 6 years of age.
5. Someone asks you what you want, and you draw a blank because it's been a long time since that felt relevant.

If you see yourself in any of the above statements, you may be in need of a mom-cation. Be it a week, a day or an afternoon, make sure you take some time out for yourself. And if you see me napping anywhere around the city this weekend, please take a napkin, wipe the drool from my chin, and just let me be.

Procrastination Pays Off - Eventually

The arugula stared to bolt about a month ago. I meant to pull it out and replace it with some other greens, but instead we went camping. And then it got kinda hot to work out there. And then it started flowering, and got kinda pretty. Now that the seed pods are developing, I think I'm just going to procrastinate a bit more.

Harvesting arugula seeds sounds pretty easy - wait until the plants turn brown, cut them of, hang them upside down in a paper bag and wait for the seed pods to fall off. Then thresh the pods, collect the seeds and voila - arugula seeds for everyone. Minimal effort, lots of waiting around. Right up my alley. If you want a more detailed explanation, check out Heirloom Organics. A great site for gathering information, as well as finding seeds.

On a culinary note, both the flowers and the seed pods are edible. The flowers are nice and mild, but still have that unmistakable arugula taste. Bite down on a seed pod, and it's like the flavour of an entire arugula plant explodes into your mouth. Delicious, peppery, intense. On the down side, they are a bit fibrous; after snacking on a couple of pods whilst making my garden rounds it felt like I had a small ball of horse hair stuck in my throat. I also tried tossing a handful of pods into a stir-fry as an experiment (I wasn't ready to just give up on that flavour!) - if anything, it made them stringier. Perhaps some of my foodie friends could find better cooking solutions for the seed pods. For now, I'm thinking of installing a spittoon in the garden.

3 Cheers for Books!

I have to say, I mark it up as a parenting victory that my son gets just as excited about going to the library as he does about going to the swimming pool. Not quite as excited as he gets about ice cream, but let's be realistic about our expectations, here. When we get through the library doors, he beelines it straight for the early literacy computer, where he spends half an hour listening to/ reading/ playing with/ laughing out loud at 'Green Eggs and Ham.' Then we spend another 20 minutes picking out books before heading to the self check-out, so that the little guy can push the buttons himself.

We're a reading family - my husband and I are book lovers of just about any genre. We have growing shelves and boxes full of books. Occasionally, one of us will grumble that it's time to clean up the bookshelf and get rid of some. When it comes down to it, though, very few books actually make it out our door to the used book store. I develop attachments to my books in a way that I don't to any of my other 'things'. Across the span of my life, books have been my escape, my solace, my companions, my teachers. As I sort through the overflowing bookshelves and hold each book in my hands, I am inundated with the memories of not just the stories and characters, but of the hours spent cradling the book in my hands. Caressing it's pages. Holding it against my heart to contemplate an especially meaningful passage. Even if I know I'll never read it again, it's hard to get rid of these books (but I'll always lend them out).

That's why I'm so excited to see my son developing and sharing that love of books. We have read to him every day of his life. Day one in the hospital, it was a pulp mystery novel that I was reading at the time. He didn't seem to object to the content, though, and simply enjoyed snuggling into my chest and listening to the sound of my voice. These days, in addition to any books we may read throughout the day, he gets to choose one book for Poppa and one book for Momma to read at bedtime. Lucky Poppa has read 'Curious George and the Big Parade' for 4 nights in a row, now. Last week for me, it was all Gruffalo. But the repetition doesn't matter for now; it's the excitement, the appreciation, the love of reading. I am, however, looking forward to him being old enough for Harry Potter. I can't wait to read that series again, through his eyes.

Cowboys and Indians and Reincarnation

The other night, kiddo said to me "Remember a long time ago when you were the kid and I was the momma?" I smiled and said "Yeah, I remember that. That was a great time." And it got me thinking - maybe it happened. Maybe the people important to us are constant from lifetime to lifetime, and we all take turns in the different roles, like kids at play. "This time you be the cop, and I'll be the robber." "This time you be the Indian, and I'll be the cowboy." This time you be the student, and I'll be the teacher." Except in each role, we're all students, and we're all teachers. I may have been alive longer than my son, and therefore have both important and unimportant things to pass on, but that doesn't mean I have nothing to learn from him, either. About him, about myself, about how the world works.

Perhaps this is true of all the people we cherish and hold close to our hearts. Maybe in each lifetime we've acted out different roles, engaged in different games, learned different lessons. Maybe this is true of all the people we react strongly to, both positively and negatively. We're all just trying to work things out. Trying to get it right this time. Trying to see and understand each other's perspectives. Maybe we seek each other out again and again, trying to complete what we started. Or find a better way. Or understand more about ourselves. Or maybe this world can be so f***ed up confusing sometimes that we need to find the people who make it a bit more sane. Make it feel safe. Like home. Or maybe it was the late-night beautifully poetic musings of an almost-4-year-old, and there is nothing else. And maybe there doesn't need to be.

To all the people in my life, I am grateful for you. I may not say it often enough. I may not open myself wide enough most days. Sometimes it's hard to see past your own sh*t, especially when you feel buried in it. But I do appreciate you. Love you. Hope you're doing well.

I think next time, I want to be a cowboy.

Ode to Great-Grandpa

How do you explain death to a 3 year-old? Great-Grandpa passed away recently; my husband's grandfather. He was a sweet old man who loved to laugh, loved his family, and packed a lot of living into his 90 years. He loved my son, and my son loved him. Now he's gone, and the little guy hasn't quite grasped the concept yet.

We attended the memorial service this past weekend. In trying to prepare the munchkin for the event, I explained that Great-Grandpa had died and we were having a party to celebrate his life and to say good-bye. Of course, the mention of the word "party" led to a 10-minute discussion about cake. I explained to him that it wasn't really that kind of party, but it's tough to talk a 3 year-old out of thinking about cake. When we finally got back to the subject of death, we got to the inevitable "why?" Here's where I floundered a bit; how to explain that death is the inevitable outcome to life without scaring him into believing that all his loved ones will start dropping like flies. I pointed out that Great-Grandpa was really, really, really old (one "really" for each generation. Momma's only really old), and that the older you get, the harder it is for your body to fix itself. I told him that Great-Grandpa's heart was worn out from giving out so much love for so many years. I told him that Great-Grandpa loved and missed Great-Grandma so much, and now that he got to know his great-grandchildren and make sure that they were okay, he was going to be with her. Basically, I just talked until he stopped looking at me with his mouth half-open and got distracted by a bug crawling across the ground.

At the service, he handled himself pretty well. Despite some pre-warning that people might be sad, he was concerned when Grandma and Auntie were crying. "Don't worry, Momma. I'll make them happy." (He did run up and give them hugs immediately after the service.) During the portion of the service where people were invited to share their thoughts, he insisted on putting in his two cents. Of course, when we got to the front of the room he hid behind the program he was clutching, but the thought was there. What he had wanted to say was that he loved his Great-Grandpa a lot, and was going to miss him. I won't be surprised if he wonders where Great-Grandpa is next time we go to visit Grandma, but that's just part of missing someone. Death is a really hard concept to grasp. For all of us. Good-bye, Bill Oddleifson. We will miss you. Thanks for everything.

Blackberry, Crackberry

I seem to have no words today, so instead I present you with a picture of my favourite crop, just starting to come into season. I didn't plant them. I don't water or fertilize them. In fact, I try desperately to ignore them until I have enough to make a pie. Mmm, blackberry pie.
Words to the wise: if you take your kid blackberry picking with you, make sure to dress them in black. We lost many a light-coloured shirt to blackberry juice stains last year!

Namaste, Kiddo

If anyone needs a little Zen in their day, it's at-home parents. Just a few minutes of quiet in the cacophony of daily life. It was easier to do yoga when my son was an infant; I could sneak a little session in while he was napping. To be truthful, though, I always had one ear pointed toward his door on the chance he might wake up and need something. Then came the fateful day when he gave up naps altogether. It's hard to get through a sun salutation when you have a 3 year-old yelling "TUNNEL!" and crawling through every time he sees you in downward dog. Fun, but not quite restful. I spent a couple of years looking for a yoga studio that offered child care, with no success. The answer to my prayers came this past year in the form of Ahimsa Yoga & Fitness. Located just down the road in Sooke, they offer child care during a couple of classes each weekday.

The word "yoga" is roughly translated as "union"; union of body and mind. It gives you a great stretch and a great workout, but with practice, it can be so much more than that. It's meditation; a quieting of the noise inside your head. It's a way to temporarily put aside the self-perpetuating list of things to do and rejuvenate your body, mind and spirit. That way when the phone rings while I'm making lunch and my little helper spills the milk which the dog then runs through and tracks all over the house while bumping the kid into the table which then makes him scream for a band-aid and chase the dog outside somehow in the process letting a bird in the house which immediately proceeds to crap on stuff... I am un-phased. Well, I am less phased. Some people get the same benefit through other things, like going for a run. These days, you won't catch me running unless maybe there's an ice cream truck down the street.

So, bless Ahimsa for their namesake philosophy of non-harm, non-judgment, acceptance and compassion for all. Even boisterous 3 year-olds. The little guy loves it. He runs in the door, kicks off his shoes and heads straight for the playroom at the back. If I dare try to follow him, he shoos me away: "You go, Momma. Go do yoga." I'm definitely not arguing with that. Sure, it may be disconcerting for some to be lying in Savasana and hear an exuberant "E-I-E-I-Ooooo" filtering through the walls of the next room (who's kid is that??). There are plenty of classes, both at Ahimsa and elsewhere, that offer the traditional quietude. To me though, it's the sweet sound of my son having a great time and for the time being needing nothing from me, thus allowing me the freedom to restore what I need for myself. Namaste.