I'll Carry You

  Yesterday, my mom, my sister, Isaac and I went for a long hike in West Vancouver. I carried Isaac on my back, all 28 pounds of him, for the two and a half hour hike. It was challenging for sure, but lots of fun and incredibly beautiful walking through the forest and along a rushing creek. Along the way, we ran into another couple who commented on how difficult it must be to hike with Isaac on my back. I told them that I joke with Isaac that I’m carrying him now, but that when I’m old, he’ll carry me.
  Later, I was thinking about this and realized that although I joke, there is truth to this statement. If you’re lucky in life, which I believe I am, you’ll be fortunate enough to have a family that will carry you through difficult times. I work in a hospital and have the privilege of working with patients and families, seeing love and sacrifice in times of crisis. In times of pain and loss, I see the strength of the bond between spouses, parents and children, and siblings. I see elderly women and men coming into visit their spouses daily, bringing food and comfort. After fifty, sixty years of marriage, the thought of being apart must seem so foreign. In some cases, the patient doesn’t recognize their family members, but this often makes no difference to those coming to visit. They continue to support, love, provide comfort, and in a figurative sense, carry their family member, regardless of whether that individual will ever know the full extent of their efforts. Unfortunately, I’ve also seen patients who are alone in the world. Who have no one to come and visit them. Sometimes, they are estranged from family or have no family left. These situations sadden me and remind me that I am so fortunate to have the family that I do.
  In my own life, I have been lucky enough to have a family that has supported me in countless ways. Most recently through the difficulties of infertility and then the roller coaster of adoption. They listened to me, drank decaf with me, cried with me, wiped my tears, cheered me up, celebrated the successes and mourned the losses. In a stormy sea of pain, loss, and frustration, they were my life raft and helped carry me to calmer waters. This is part of what family means to me. Family is there to have your back, to support you, to love you. To carry you.

It's tiring riding in the backpack. I look a bit weary too.

Family

 

The Terrible Ones?

  I’ve come to realize that the “Terrible Twos” is a myth. I actually believe the terribleness starts at around 13 months and from what I’ve learned from other moms continues past three. Actually, some moms said that 3 was worse than 2. Now, I feel like I should note before you all start judging me, that I love my son, I just don’t always like what he does. In fact, some of the stuff he does do could be characterized as “terrible”. Like yesterday, when he followed me around screaming and attempting to bite my legs while I had a poo covered cloth diaper in my hands that I was trying to deal with. Yup, that was terrible. Or when I try to take him for a walk in the backpack and he thinks it’s absolutely hilarious to pull my hair. Yup, terrible as well. My hair is already thin; I’m worried I’m not going to have any left after this. I have to laugh because I remember my mom saying to me when I was little, “I will always love you, but I don’t like what you’re doing right now”. Totally understand that now.
  Isaac has perfected what I am calling the “protester”. When I try to pick him up to take him away from something that he really wants, his response is to make his body completely limp. It brings images to me of protesters being dragged away by police. This production is usually accompanied by screaming. He is certainly demonstrating his independence now and has found a clear way to communicate his frustrations. I can’t wait for rationale thinking and verbal discussion, but we have a long way to go with that.
  I know that Isaac is able to comprehend the word “No”, but as with many things, he is selective about following this command. To teach manners, we’ve started saying “Isaac, no thank you”. It somehow feels more difficult to yell when you add the “no thank you” at the end (even though after the fifth “No thank you” I’m ready to raise my voice). However, even with our polite requests, they are often useless. In fact, I think telling Isaac “No” only makes him want to do it more. He now looks at me with a smile before he does something that he knows is not allowed. It’s hard to keep a neutral response to his acts of defiance – either I’m trying not to laugh at his little devilish grin, feeling rage at my ineffectiveness, or just plain hopelessness.
  On the positive side, I do love seeing Isaac’s personality developing even more. He is a determined little guy who knows what he likes. It’s great to see his preferences develop. Before I could choose any books I felt like to read to him. Now we have three that have been repeated multiple times the last few days. While I would like to move on to another book, mostly for my sanity, I do love that he has his favorites.
  So in response to this new phase that Isaac has entered, I do what I often do and look to Google to solve all my problems. I learned that I should try to distract and control my environment, both of which we were already doing with minimal success. My second line of questioning was to my husband’s cousin’s wife, Andrea. She has a high energy, four year old boy and I’ve been seeing a lot of similarities between Isaac and Liam. As we sat down with a glass of wine together I described what Isaac had been doing and my feelings of frustration. I explained that I never imagined that I would feel like this as a mother. That I thought I would have endless patience (who was I kidding, patience has never been one of my virtues, but it’s always nice to dream). It was nice to have her confirm that yes, she is often similarly frustrated and that there is also not a whole lot you can do at this stage. You try your best, but it’s challenging and yes, it’s normal to relish when they go to sleep for naps and at the end of the day. Sometimes it’s so easy to blame yourself and think that you must be doing something wrong. It was so nice to hear it’s okay to feel like this is really hard and that the urge to pull your hair out is completely normal.
  So, I guess I’ve got a long road ahead of me here with the “Terrible Ones, Twos, and Threes”. I should probably find something more healthy than wine as a coping strategy.

I Support BC Teachers

Dear Auntie Kate,

    Thanks for being such a great Auntie and a wonderful teacher. I know that you and your fellow teachers are striking right now and I wanted to say that I support you. Thank you for fighting for the education system, for the teacher profession, and for current and future students, like me. When it’s time for me to go to school, I hope that I have a teacher just like you. Someone that sees teaching as more than just a job. Someone who tries her best to support students to succeed and achieve their goals. Someone who takes the time to learn about each student and their individual needs, strengths, and dreams. Someone who works beyond what is stipulated in a contract because she truly wants to make the school experience as amazing as possible for her students. I hope I get to go to a school like yours, Auntie. Chief Maquinna seems like a lot of fun. A school that has all the extra things that parents take for granted – track and field, school plays, field trips, sports days, and special projects. A school that cares about their community, dropping off handmade cards for Valentine’s Day and Remembrance Day. A school that tackles the big things like bullying and respect for others. A school that recognizes that their students come from all walks of life and goes for the extra mile for students in need. Auntie, that’s why I support what you and your fellow teachers are trying to achieve. This is what I would say if I could talk.  

                                                                                                              

                                                                                                           Love,

                                                                                                                Isaac   (and Mommy)

Father's Day

 Yesterday we celebrated Markus's first ever Father's Day. I feel so lucky that Isaac has Markus as a father and that I get to share this incredible adventure called parenthood with him. Everyday I feel I learn something from Markus about how to be a better person and parent. He's so kind, generous, and patient. He always thinks the best of others and wisely knows when to choose his battles. I've often thought that great marriages are made between personalities that complement one another and fortunately, I was able to find my better half as they say. I think the same could be said for parenthood. It's so nice to have someone who complements and supports me. Between the two of us, we are muddling our way through this never-ending learning curve in being a parent to Isaac.

My two guys.

  In one of my not-so-well-thought-out plans, I thought it would be great to do a little photo shoot with Isaac and frame the photos for Markus's Father's Day present. The "plan" was to have Isaac hold cut-outs of I heart Dad. In my brilliance, I forgot that everything in Isaac's vicinity eventually makes it into his mouth. Here are some of our photos. I probably should have been more like Markus and have known when to choose my battles as this was a losing battle from the start. In the end though, we ended up with some funny photos and as Markus said, they were so "Isaac".

And part of the "d" was gone...

Typical Isaac move - smash and destroy.

This was the one we ended up putting in the frame. Notice the "I" in Isaac's mouth. He really can't help himself.

I hope you have adventure

  When my family was driving back from Ucluelet recently, I was sitting shotgun while my dad was driving. I’m not sure how we got on the topic, but he shared a story from his childhood that I thought was just awesome. Super funny, quirky, reckless, and very my dad. I think it’s also a really great example of how teenagers don’t fully understand consequences or perhaps, it’s just an example of my father as a teenager not fully thinking things through. Either way, it’s a great story.

  When my dad was seventeen, his parents were out of town visiting family back on the farm in Saskatchewan. He decided that it would be a good idea to hitchhike to Kelowna to meet them as they had planned to camp there on their way back home. So he set off with very little provisions and barely any money. When he reached Kelowna, he realized that his parents probably wouldn’t be there for a few days and that he should just keep going. His brilliant plan was to meet them on the highway on the stretch between BC and Alberta. As he explained, he thought he would just be able to wave them down from the side of the road. So again he set off, making a stop in Banff to visit a girl (as seventeen year old boys do). He mentioned that he had to buy at toque in Banff as when you’re sleeping out under the stars, it can get a bit cold. When he got to the stretch of highway that he planned to meet his parents on, he realized his error in that there would be no way he would be able to just flag them down from the side of the road. So, in his wisdom, he decided that he should just continue onto Saskatchewan. With a lot of luck and help from some friendly drivers, he made it to his aunt’s house where, as it was quite early in the morning, he decided he would take a nap on their front lawn as to not wake them up too early. While he was sleeping, his cousin woke up and not realizing who was on his front lawn (probably thinking it was some sketchy guy in a toque), called the RCMP. So, my dad was woken up by the RCMP in which he had to then explain that he was there to visit with family. At this time, his parents had already left for home unaware that they were probably passing their son along the highway. My dad ended up staying the summer with his grandfather and working on the farm. He tried to convince them when it was time to return home that the best plan would be for him to purchase a horse and ride it back along the highway to Burnaby. His uncle just laughed and proceeded to buy him a plane ticket for Vancouver. It was his first time on a plane and a great way to end his summer adventure.
  After my father had finished recounting his story, I had some questions for him:
                Me: “Did you mention to anyone that you were planning on hitchhiking to Saskatchewan?
                My dad: “No, they probably would have stopped me.”
                Me: “What did you plan on doing with a horse when you got home?”
                My dad: “Hadn’t really thought that through.”
                Me:  “What did Grandma think about all this?”
                My dad: “Can’t remember, but don’t think she had much to say” (she had probably already given up at that point in teaching her son some sense).
                Me:  “What did your dad think about your actions?”
                My dad: “I think he was proud.”

  It got me thinking to some of my travel experiences when I was younger. When I set out at eighteen with my friend to backpack around Europe. Some of my most memorable times happened when we just went with the flow and didn’t think about the consequences. Sure I had promised my father to not travel to Africa (really after the above story, I’m not sure that he should have really been saying anything to me about boundaries), but when you’re presented with the opportunity of travelling to Morocco with a group of people you’ve just met at a bar in Lagos at 3am, how can you turn it down. Or when you arrive in Brindisi with no place to stay and two older Italian men offer to take you out to dinner and then somehow convince you that you should just stay with them for the night and they’ll drive you to the ferry in the morning, well, it’s a free meal and accommodation (okay, with that one, we were a bit worried and both of us were wondering how we could reach our Swiss Army knives as we were driving through dark fields to their house – turns out that they were just very nice men and worried about these young girls sleeping in a train station over night). 
  It also got me thinking about the type of parent I want to be with Isaac. Someone that sets some boundaries, but does allow him to go out and experience life to the fullest. I realize that this hope for myself will take some work. I worry about head injuries and broken bones, but still want him to play in the forest, build forts, learn to ski (or snowboard if my husband has anything to say about it), get dirty, basically live life with abandon. I want him to explore the world and stretch his boundaries, but at the end of his travels, I hope that he comes home and tells me all about it. I hope when he sees the road less travelled that his curiosity leads him in that direction, but that he also uses his judgement and asks for directions when needed. Saying this, I know that I will worry greatly about him. I just hope that I can keep those worries to myself, only sharing them for the big things and letting the little ones just slide. I hope that he experiences adventure in his life, but maybe doesn’t tell me about it until after. 

My little adventurer