Stitch Rabbit

Golden Moments

 

I love those moments when you feel like you really got it right in a "cool mom" move.

I don't often come across as "cool" with anybody, let alone my kids. I'm pretty socially awkward and I'm fairly strict, and though I'm really open and accepting of a lot of things, I'm also that Mom that doesn't do PG movies, Top 40 or video games. It's simply my personal parenting choices. I'm working on it all.... as my kids seem to be getting older and older before I'm ever really ready for it.

So tonight, being Friday and the end of a long week, we were all feeling the need to shake it up a little. The music was cranked (The Ramones) and the kids were jumping around on the bed and Frankie was asking about this song that she heard, that I know (unfortunately) and asked for me to find it. So onto "YouTube" I go and soon enough we were getting down to the likes of "Call Me Maybe" and some other poppy jams the kids are into these days. PS, Justin Beiber, how old is that kid seriously and what is it about him that people like.

So this song comes on, and maybe some of you know it, I know I did from grocery shopping and elevators and where ever else this crap gets played.. I never knew who it was by, but I do know the words to the chorus and apparently my kids do too. It's kind of a catchy jam.

And so, here's the part, the part that I will remember as one of those "cool mom" memories. Jumping on the bed, doing sweet 360's, the three of us, singing at the top of our lungs:

 

"Cause we belong together now, yeah

Forever united here somehow, yeah

You got a piece of me - And honestly,

"My life, (my life) Would suck, (would suck) withouuuuuut yoooouuuu!!"

 

So good, right! We were jamming pretty hard, the kids laughing hysterically in between split jumps and shimmies and god knows what other moves they were possibly mirroring from their mother. I couldn't stop smiling and I started thinking, "Man, my life would suck without these guys."

And that's when I lost it. The cool moment ended because now, instead of cool mom rocking out, yelling out the lyrics like a total star with my band (the kids), I was suddenly, and uncontrollably cry-singing, like really, truly not able to hold it together, voice-wavering "Withouuut Yooouuu" and the kids looked at me like maybe this was a joke and then Nope, nope, Mom is definitely having a moment here and the song ended and it was all quiet except for me sniffling and the kids breathing hard from rocking out and you know what, maybe those Top 40 songs really know what's up after all.

Because it's true.

 

It would totally suck without them..

 

 

Seasons.

 

The ever-changing kitchen table, often loaded with books and glasses, glitter and yarn, clay and colored pencils. Sometimes seating one, or four, or friends. Only a few years in our home, the stories that have been told around it, the laughter, the looks that have been shared across it. It's the centerpiece to our daily life, the meeting place, the conversation starter, the meal-sharer. It's just a table, some strips of wood and some legs, but it was made with love for our family to sit around and grow around as the seasons pass us by.

 

fall.

 

winter.

 

spring.

To Hibernate.

 

Waking up to a frost covered world is about as wintery as it can get in Vancouver. While I have big dreams for a cozy, snowy mountain town, for the meantime I will take what I can get.

 

The sun came pouring through our windows on this unusually cold day, but for the morning and a good part of the afternoon, we somewhat ignored it. We can be very much like bears. We're outdoor enthusiasts, yes... major nature lovers, and our favorite seasons for outdoor fun is the fall and winter. But I can hibernate with the best of them. I like a slow morning, with window staring and coffee steaming, the kids playing on the living room floor. Knitting a few rows and eating toast and jam. The kids like those days too. They pull out the art books and the art supplies and before breakfast is even made the table is covered in glitter and glue and paint.

 

I relish these days. I know they wont last... they are already dwindling. The rude awakening of the weekday alarm, the commute to school and classes and activities.. our family is getting busier in a different way then we used to. It's still good - but it used to be more about piling us all into the van and into the woods rather than into our routine. I think I need to get that back in someway...

 

Or maybe my nostalgia has blurred the memory of a different kind of yesterday. That feeling of never leaving the house and feeling trapped and un-showered and under-socialized. The mornings when there wasn't any coffee left and I dreaded packing up smaller, less-independent babies. Days when the floor was covered in glitter and glue and paint - and that wasn't entirely idyllic.

 

Or maybe my memory is a mix of the two, and really, I just had one of those extremely grateful days in which I could look out at the cold crisp day and choose happily not to go anywhere, coffee mug full and a feeling of enjoying this hibernation, if only just for today.

Holidays in Our Home

I'm so grateful for the time I get to spend in December doing what I love the most. It's been an especially moving and thankful year for me...

Spending time in the woods with my family, and finding the most beautiful tree we had ever seen, wrapping it in lights and ornaments and staring at it from our cozy spot on the couch.

Spending time in the studio making things for the little ones in my life.

Spending mornings knitting. Well, mornings and afternoons. And nights. Nights too.

Putting down the knitting sticks to spend evenings with paper and crafts and beer.

Routinely locking myself in the bathroom at the end of the night with a cold beer and the most amazing goodies from Penny Frances Potions.

Now if only the snow would come...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Want.

 

    I want to fold your laundry. I want to wipe your spills. I want to cook dinners you complain about and wipe tears from your eyes. I want to referee arguments and scrub the floors you muddy. I want your dirty hand prints on my walls and your toys scattered across the floor. I want to hug you and be frustrated with you and work it out with you. I want to teach you. I want to help you with your homework. I want to fix things for you, I want to hold your hand. I want to sigh as I find holes in your jeans and leftover snacks in your room. I want to love you and know that at any moment I can open your bedroom door and sneak a kiss from your sweaty little heads as you sleep. I should only be so lucky to have the duties and the chores and the reasons to take care of you. I want it all, I want the work, the joy, the love.

I want my children and tonight I am a parent who gets to carry them sleeping from their bed to mine and wrap my arms around them and fall asleep with my face in their hair.

I am one of the lucky ones.

 

Coming Home.

I'm a very lucky lady.

I had the luck and the loving support of my family to take a trip out east this last week to be at a friend's wedding. It was a chance for me to see friends I hadn't seen in five and ten years, a chance to witness two people I adore get married, get my arm marathon-tattooed in to the wee hours by my dear friend in Toronto, stay up late, eat whenever I wanted to, stay in hotels, travel alone, knit and read uninterrupted, do some actual writing (!!)  and generally get a good healthy dose of freedom and independence... something that doesn't come around too often when you are a parent of young children. It was a weekend of total indulgence, many hugs and tears, and a whole lot of love.

Getting the chance to get away and solo trip is something I would encourage any parent to do. That independence that comes along with choosing what you want to do and when you want to is something that we forget about when our lives are almost always about taking care of the needs of one, two, three or more lovelies in our lives. I cherish the moments that I can sit and knit or talk uninterrupted over a table with friends. And knowing that my three favorite people are back home doing a fantastic job of getting along without me, having fun and (somewhat) keeping the house in one piece gives me the confidence that I can go out and be my own person feeling loved and supported and encouraged by the ones who need me the most. I feel fantastic.

 

When I left the sun was shining and we were picking pumpkins in our tshirts... funny what five days in fall can do... the colors are truly autumn now that I'm back:

While I was away Gabe made me this awesome new coffee shelf over our espresso cabinet:

 

The kitchen table is still in the living room from Thanksgiving, but we kind of like it there:

 

My home feels cozy and ready for winter. Best of all, I'm home with my family...

Who make the best part of going away the part when you come home.

 

Pretty In Pink

 

I Love You.

I love you. You are my daughter, my first born child. I grew you in my belly and loved you every minute you have been here with me.

You astound me. Astonish me. Take my breath away. Make my heart swell. Bring laughter from my belly and draw tears from my eyes. You are the most magical creature I have ever met.

I do everything for you, and I would again and again. I love you, daughter of mine.

You're six.

Film Wife.

It's that time of year again. The peonies in my garden are about to burst into the most beautiful deep red flowers. I wait for them every year, they take ages to open and it marks the beginning of the busiest season for our family. As a seasoned film wife I can feel the peak season ramping up, as the calender gets filled and husband/Daddy sightings get fewer and fewer. Film is a balancing act, one that works well sometimes with evenly spread out jobs, time enough in between for solid family hangouts, and jobs booked ahead. In the winter film life can be as bare and cold as the northern tundra without a day's work in sight. And there's time like the now, the summer heating up, when the work just goes on and on and on and on.

And so it always takes a minute to get into it.

The film summers used to rock my world, as a new mom who needed all the support and hands on deck she could find. The idea of not knowing when your husband will be home to take the screaming infant from your tired breast is enough to send most new moms into fits of tears, complete with crumpled tissues and the biggest "Why Me?" complex you can grow.

And then life goes on and the winter comes and the work gets less and you wonder why you ever made such a fuss and wish your husband would get back to work already so you can go on with your idyllic little life at home, folding towels and planting flowers, and sewing in the evenings, waiting for him to come home.

And then you grow even more, and gain the status of the experienced film wife. You stop asking when he will be coming home, stop praying he will swoop in right at the end of dinner to help with the whining bath and crying bedtime and the mountain of dishes you've ignored all day. You stop feeling sorry for yourself and you begin to take pride in all that you can accomplish without the help of a spouse. And they take pride in you. You begin to understand just how powerful and competent you really are, that you and the children can survive three weeks four weeks two months of mowing lawns and oil changes and extremely large grocery shops and cleaning all of it - all of the house, all of the yard, all of the clothes, all of the time. You become a team, you and the kids, making the house work and your lives work while such an essential part of your family is away.... and your husband cheers you on from his own post, on set making a living so we can do exactly that... live. Happily, confidently, and with a sense that as a family, together or apart, you can get it done. It's all for the greater good. It's for our future. One day soon we will spend our days working together rather than apart, for ourselves and for our family.

So here I am, at the beginning of the summer. The calendar is filling and the days are longer and the back door stays open later, waiting for his return. I am getting into it. There hasn't been time to sew, time to knit, time to sit. The laundry and the dishes are multiplying and my freshly planted garden needs most of my evening time. But the momentum is waking me up to the speed of the summer months, and so here we go. We are blooming again.

 

Grown.

I've spent six Mother's Days in my thirty years recieving slobbering kisses sticky with pancake syrup and handmade cards squished by the tiny hands thrusting them at me as I peek out from under the covers, milking the automatic turn to sleep in for as long as I possibly can. At some point a lovingly made cappacino is handed to me from the lovely father of the sweet little babes who've honored me with the title "Mom".

It's been six Mother's Days of pure heaven.

There's no book on Motherhood, although there are many who try to write the rules. We all end up doing what we should - going with our guts and with our hearts. I've spent six years watching my children grow from tiny seven pound kittens into walking, running, dancing beings who astound me more and more every day, as I watch them become exactly who they are supposed to be. They just know how to grow, how to learn, how to shape and master.

I've spent six years watching myself, in the mirror and in the world. There are parts of me that have changed, have aged, have fallen away, have left. I look different than I did when this all began. I feel different. I've grown. My children have taught me to walk away from what doesn't fit me anymore. They've inspired me to start new things, to take what I'm interested in and run with it, full tilt. The enthusiasm they have, I want to have too. My kids.... they are teaching me all the time.

As I'm sitting here on the eve of the Sunday I am crowned Queen Mommy for a day, I'm tired and sore and sun-kissed from a weekend of riding bikes, going on dates, hanging out with friends, and digging in the garden with my kids. It's been wonderful so far. This Mother's Day, under the covers, covered in sticky kisses, I am going to celebrate all the ways I have grown as a mother and as a person. And I'm going to thank my kids for that.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women who have held hands and wiped tears and kissed tiny cheeks and let their children show them exactly what love is.

 

 

 

Holy Smokes, We Have A Dog!

 

Introducing Lucy, our newest family member. We've known about her for a while...I've been barely able to contain myself. Something about getting a puppy brings out the ten year old girl in everyone!

She's a week in at our house and fitting in beautifully. We've spent the week getting to know her, building up her trust and confidence, and of course, introducing her to the big world out there. It's been extremely busy, I haven't had a minute to myself, but so worth the effort and time. I say this now as she sleeps peacefully at my feet.

The kids are in love, and she is the first one greeted and hugged and snuggled in the morning... forget about me now. I too am quite smitten with her. I sigh tiredly as I pry her baby teeth from another beloved stuffed animal or armchair leg and worry and fret when we leave her at home, but this puppy stage only lasts so long and it's so easy to enjoy it even with the extra work.

She's a beauty, and a sweet, sweet soul. We're so glad she's here.

 

Days with A Boy.

My son and I spend our days together. After the hustle and bustle of getting his big sister off to school, the day is ours. Sometimes it's busy, with lists of things to do, appointments and shopping... all of this with my son on my hip asking questions and protesting loudly when he's had enough.

Other days are spent much more peacefully. It doesn't have to be complicated with Charlie. Throwing driftwood into the water to see how big the splashes are, a coffee date on The Drive, or a walk in the park. I love this special time with him...

He's at that age, so inquisitive, so curious and so astounded by the world. His one word statements are turning into sentences, and our conversations growing longer as I learn more and more of what goes on in his sweet little head. These are the days.

As I'm writing this, he's carefully balancing two "coffees" on a tray, intent on serving me this sweet treat while I'm working. I love this little man.

 

 

 

Being Still and Taken Care Of.

It hasn't been a very good week. Actually, the last few weeks have been rough around here, mainly due to the kids getting sick on and off, rashes, noses, ears - the whole bit. To top it off the Mama got sick too, and when Mama gets sick, the whole household tends to just stop.

I'm lucky though, because even with Gabe working long hours, I have the gift of two Moms of my own making soup and tidying up and taking care of my kids while I'm laid up myself. And a Dad who will drive me to the doctors. Yesterday, through the headache and the burning throat and the body ache, I felt a lot of gratitude, watching my Mom and Mom-in-law chatting in my kitchen, my dad on the couch with the kids. I'm really lucky to have so much homemade soup in my fridge and parents who will exchange shifts and smiles, settling in to take care of me and my family.

 

 

Her Very First (Doll) Quilt.

She poured through my scrap baskets, searching for the perfect pieces. She pressed, with my help, and marked each piece with a ruler and chalk into a near-perfect square.

She delicately cut each square, trying her very best to stay on the lines.

She sat, with me... and pieced her very first quilt. Deliberating the way it would look, switching blocks until it looked exactly right to her own little eyes. She was beaming.

She pinned each block, muttering "right sides together". This took a really, really long time. I did my best not to let my own hands get in the way.

She sat on my lap, with her hands guiding her fabric while I pressed the pedal beneath us and kept a watchful eye on the needle and the seamstress.

She pressed her very own seams. She's almost done.

Hours had passed and we came up from the studio and into the house and she chatted away with her Dad about her quilt and I listened, smiling. I can't wait to watch her finish her very first quilt.

 

This Morning.

This morning as Frankie was leaving for school, her Dad already outside warming the car, I knelt in front of her and looked her in her eyes and kissed her cheeks. I grabbed her hand and placed a kiss in it and told her to put the kiss in her pocket, and save it. She could pull it out anytime in the day. I love the dreamy smile she gives me when she's trying to figure something out in her head - if a kiss could really stay in a pocket, and would it still be kissable when she pulled it back out.

 

She's growing up, but not too old for pretend. She's getting bigger, but not so big she isn't still a child. She is learning and mastering, and still wondrous, curious. She teeters on the edge of so many milestones, ebbing and flowing between realism and idealism. I follow with great admiration, into her world. I plead with the world to let imagination stay, and evolve and never leave. Let her grow up but not away from the possibilities of anything.

 

This morning I buttoned her coat and kissed her goodbye and watched from the window with my coffee cup. I will do this a million times more in our life.

As she reached the gate to meet her Daddy, I watched her reach deep into the pocket of her coat and pull out my kiss and hold it to her face. It was still there.