stand still

i believe this was the last really warm day we had before fall's nip began really imposing itself all around. three weekends ago, these photos were taken. we were so ready for fall, then. we came to conquer with long sleeved shirts, sweaters, rain accoutrements. we even brought butternut squash soup. but we were met with a searing, startling heat. the kids stripped and played in the water while the wife and i were trapped in our long sleeved shirts and under our summer sweater kal projects.

(my sweater, as you may recall, is at a stand still. the wife's sweater is going so well. she's knitting from the top down and is at the bottom of the sweater. the part of the process where you feverishly want to keep knitting through work and sleep and toddler squabbling because the suspense of getting the thing off the needles is just too much. i'd show you a picture but she and that sweater is attached at the hip. they are at work right now.)


we haven't been back to the river beach - or anywhere so care-freeing since. some play, some lovely times with friends, to be sure. but mostly, life has been a flurry of hurry up and wait since my last post.

we've heard about another death in the family, also distant. our cousin lost her father.  my heart is broken for her. i never knew the man. and they had a difficult relationship. but i fear the ground beneath my feet and the air i breathe would never do again, were i in her shoes. i want to rush to her side to comfort and feed in her time of grief. but, rather unfortunately, there is a space between us that only she can cross. so instead, i stand still and wish her love and peace as she comes to terms with her loss.

we are hearing today - officially, about whether or not we get to move to a unit that has opened up in our coop. we saw the place over the weekend and actually fell in love. it's not that much bigger than our home now. but it boasts features that our current unit does not: 3 bedrooms, a more spacious living space, a safer entryway for the kids, closer park proximity, and my personal favourite - a dishwasher! a dishwasher! i plan to call it antonia and make it my kitchen best friend. that's an hour and a half back to my day, yo. my entire adult life has been a dishwasher-less, apartment-living existence, and my new kitchen bff is going to give me back an hour and a half of my life every day. good friends like antonia-the-dishwasher don't let friends ignore the dishes to knit, not her. she will do the dishes for me so i can go forth and knit 100% guilt-free, whilst watching all of my fall programming. oh yes she will.

of course, if we move, it won't be until the end of november. and there is muchmuchmuch work to do (on top of the daily grind) before antonia-the-dishwasher and i get to the business of getting to know each other. so for now, we stand still: plan, dream, and brace ourselves for all the packing in the universe.

and then there is the work-that-pays. it's ramping  up in a learning-curve kind of way: work i know how to do but because some of the rules and the players are entirely new, it's bit of a challenge. living out in vancouver and working with colleagues and clients across the country is challenging on most days, but i've had it down for a while now. except that higher profile projects + new players + new sets of rules + my remote location = a bit more whelming that i am used to. i plan to rock the pants out of all of it though. and i will.

for now, i have to force myself to recognize that standing still is an opportunity: to remember to take a chill pill breath, to take things one step at a time, to choose not to rush, to realize that it takes time to learn new things, that i can do all of this on very little knitting time (gulp), that blogging can wait.

i have a feeling my entries will be few and far between in the coming months. yes, months. i hope to be around as often as the 1-3 entries a week i've been doing. but in the event i am not, know that the stand still is over in one area or another and that i'm working hard to find my rhythm so i can rock out to the ever-changing beat of the chaos of our days.

what he sees

at the sanctuary last weekend, we decided to leave the stroller in the car and pushed our babes beyond their walking limits. they did well but just past the half-way point, we found ourselves desperate to keep the kids walking on their own to the end of the trail. the boy kept the girl going for us (only too eager to grant her big brother's request). but when he began to lag behind, i offered the boy my camera.

he's been learning how to point and shoot, you see. and i'm hopelessly in love with the photos he took!

his sister was only too happy to pose for him, the darling. i just adore how they look at each other in times of peace: how much she trusts him, how innately he protects her, how well they play.

and i often wonder how he sees the women in his life, this only boy of ours: the only fire sign in a house full of water.

i wonder how he sees himself, this affectionate boy who loves bugs, dinosaurs, cars, robots, superheroes, legos, who chose a pink bicycle with "hair" (tassels) on the handles, and whose favourite colours are purple and pink.

and i worry. i worry because i didn't realize that although i've come to terms with my lesbian self, my gender-specific programming regularly interferes with my actual belief system. i worry because i find myself gripped with fear when i think of what people may say to him and do to him because he has 2 moms and happens to like butterflies and kitty cats. i worry that because i am afraid for him, i may not be able to adequately stand up for him when he needs me to, whatever my intentions may be. i worry that i won't be able to model being brave when it counts.

this is the thing i'm learning about mothering, you see. loving each of my children for their whole selves is easy. coming to terms with my reactions - facing the fears i've long thought i've overcome - and actively choosing not to apply them to their life choices, that's the hard part.

while i know my fears do not define who i am or what i believe, and although my parenting choices are not motivated by fear, i have them all the same and i fight them all the time.

because despite my fears, i believe that what the boy sees, how he focuses, how he frames his life, what he defines beautiful, what he chooses to do next - belongs entirely to him.

all i need to do is be there for him -  this boy that i love so much, so much like me, and so much more himself.  be. there. be brave (for myself). and stay open - ready, to see the world through his eyes.

excepting the photos of the boy himself, all other photos in this post belong to him. 

at home: cooking, knitting, dreaming, rambling

katie's legacy bread, again. 

we've been home for over a week now. i'd like to say that all is going swimmingly but the transition is resulting in rather grizzly bouts of mood swings for all of us. i feel like i'm yelling all the time and i don't like it. the kids have gotten used to being outside all the time and our need to keep them indoors so we can keep house isn't working very well. and i was all zen about doing things one thing at a time in the forest but now that i'm home, i can't help but will myself to grow another 3 pairs of arms. i seem to have all too quickly lost my centre and need to re-frame my state of mind. so many things to do, so little time. so many things i want to do, so not happening. that's the trouble  challenge with the blessings of work and family: finding balance and rhythm to the extent that as many necessary needs as possible are met at the same time. 

in an effort to bring myself back to centre and meet some of my family's needs - including mine - i have, of course, been knitting. the boy's sweater is blocked and finished, which pleases me to no end. 

better photos, anon. i promise.

i have also found myself in the kitchen: baking bread and eating tomatoes and green beans freshly picked from our teeny garden.

roma and heirloom cherry tomatoes with green beans 

the kids love to help and feel included in kitchen decisions. and i really love having them in there.  i made katie's legacy bread again to better success, i think. the recipe makes 4 loaves and i let the boy do what he wanted with a quarter of the dough.  those little loaves were devoured immediately after this photo was taken, plain

the next morning, the boy requested pizza for breakfast with the bread he made. i made garlic bread by rubbing garlic on the partially toasted bread, added cheese, and broiled until the cheese melted: a breakfast hit (we ate all the tomatoes).

i have been itching for a walk to the river beach but time and tide really hasn't allowed it. 

my baby cousin (she's 27) was in town for a conference so we've spent as much time as we could with her before she returned to toronto. i took very few pictures. i just wanted to focus my energy on her precious company. she's getting married next year to a boy (he's 28) she's loved since she was 15. she has chosen the wife and i as her candle sponsors, the boy as her coin bearer, and the girl as her flower girl. we are so honoured to be part of it all. she's the closest i have to a baby sister (i have 2 younger brothers) and we've been connected since she was born. we've always been there for each other. 

i am extremely proud of the woman she has become and feel privileged to know her. she's so good to my kids. and i just can't help but love her more because she loves them so much. so naturally, while she was here, i took a break from all the sweater knitting to knit her a hat.

this is my second renfrew (the first was for me!) and i will attest that it is such a fun, fast, and easy knit. in fact, i still plan on knitting piles of hats in this pattern as christmas gifts. this time, i used anzula for better or for worsted in mauve (from the stash). 

anzula for better or worsted is probably my favourite plied yarn of all. its cashmere-merino blend makes it just like butter to knit with. the cashmere in the yarn gives it a melting hand that enhances the softness of the merino; and the bit of nylon in there makes the yarn almost bounce back slight when you're knitting, which made it feel as though the hat i was making was knitting itself.

as you can see, the yarn results in lovely stitch definition, made even more beautiful by its luminous hand-dyed depth of colour. i dream of sweater quantities of this yarn, it is so delicious. 

and on that wistful note, i must come down from my anzula cloud and return to my responsibilities. 

i am happy to be home. i am grateful for my bed, my job, my family, my life. there is much to keep me in the here and now. but i can't help but steal away a few moments here and there to dream - of yarn, of time outside, and of change. after all, "a change is as good as a rest." and i don't dare disagree with the dowager countess of downton abbey.

in the forest, part 1: privilege

lightning lake, manning park
british columbia

dutchie, the tent trailer that housed all 8 of us. bugs not allowed.

our camp site

there was a campfire ban. so we did our best roasting marshmallows on hot coals. we didn't suffer.
but we burnt a batch of s'mores.

i am convinced that faeries live here.

rainbow bridge over lightning lake

i would say that what we did was a whole lot of nothing. but that's not true at all. 

in the forest, we were in the wilderness with access to only  communal plumbing conveniences (hurray for toilets and showers!)  but we were entirely without electricity. so   there was almost always work to do: set up, clean up, cooking, eating, hiking, and parenting. hard work. good work. work we did together: as 2 families, and 1 tribe.

in the forest, our little tribe co-existed comfortably together, through silence and conflict, through play and rest. our fellow moms helped us parent. their children played with ours. our friendships were rekindled. the wife and i got to sit beside each other for 2 seconds together, a small miracle in and of itself. we made merry with the lot that we brought with us. and what we brought was more than enough. 

in the forest, i had no choice but to do one thing at a time. if it was my job to do the dishes, it was a matter of walking to a sink, and taking it one dish at a time. there was no music or tv in the background. rarely was there a babe to manage. there was just the dishes and the walk back to camp. one thing at a time: an idea i have taken so long to rediscover, it's almost novel.

in the forest, i saw wonder and awe in my littles' eyes, at every turn. i saw the boy work to conquer his fear of a forest full of bears. i saw the girl discover independence as she climbed on to a floatie she brought into the lake herself - without fear or hesitation. i saw them both learn to explore the world around them freely, fostered by their imagination and rarely hampered by their limits.

in the forest, i felt whole. i was completely present. i missed nothing and enjoyed everything.  i took the time to be still. and to watch. and to feel myself holding my breath.

(i didn't even let the unusual overly abundant bugs cramp my style. i was on their turf, after all. and there was drinking. and dancing. as in, i made up truly geeky swatting dance moves to bat the buggerly buggers away. and yet i was still their banquet. but there was drinking and dancing. and the oh-my-the-stars that actually lit up the sky.)

it was such a privilege just to be there.

we are now back to our regularly scheduled programming. it's just us and the kids most days, with our working lives thrown in to break up the madness and the bliss of the parenting hours. 

i am holding close the peace i savoured every moment i was in the forest. i am resolving to do just one thing at a time, multi-tasking only when absolutely necessary. i am calling upon myself to relish the passing of time and most importantly, to find everyday peace in being extraordinarily present.

we spent 4 nights and about the equivalent of 4.5 days in the forest. i have so much more to tell you about. this is the first of 4 "in the forest" entries. 

i'll be back tomorrow with "in the forest, part 2: deer papparazzi."

now, onto the countdown-to-bedtime job that i absolutely love.