Category — Domesticity

In honour of our sweet Madeleine’s first birthday, the Regional Assembly of Text is hosting their monthly letter writing party.

While the letter-writers are tip-tapping away, us and our sweet bean will be enjoying a family picnic in Queen’s Park, where Madeleine will bite her eight pearly whites into her first bit of cake.

I can’t believe she has been with us an entire year. She is our joy and delight — and this feeling, this enormous swell of abandonment, just grows and grows.

I made her a crown.

Thank you, Jesus, for the best year of our life. For her, our greatest gift.

….

Home is asking to be wrapped. Rooms wait ready to spill out door, into arms of strangers, onto trucks, into cardboard, buried in storage, carted on boat. Too many bins and boxes for my little head: what to keep, what to store, what to sell, what to bring to Bowen, what to ship out east, what to give to family, what, where, how, when…

But I know life sits out of hand. In arms a billion star courses wide. And I take her hand, now one-year-old, and walk our path to smiling eyes. Sit in her chair at our coffee house. Visit our park, swing our swings, dip in our wading pool, visit our friends, roll all over green carpet thick, laid out under our trees, eat sushi where they remember our alaska rolls and our names.

Soon, together three, we will light new paths, grieve old ones, sit huddled in front of burning hearth, welcome friends at ferry dock and feed hungry mouths, rest weary heads in our island home. We hear the Voice who’s laid out our mornings, years, seeking Face that tells our story. These six months will set a course, I can feel it.

There is much ahead. Family to forge. Words to write. Poetry to spill. Schooling to ingest. Home to make.

I met a friend while visiting in-laws last week who told me her story. Of her travels to Romania, working with Gypsies, igniting a call to international law. She’s running toward it. This relit my heart to study more: media’s impact on democracy — how our incessant ingesting of information shapes our understanding of citizenship. Perhaps a Masters in Toronto, time and prayer will tell.

Much is afoot in my little writerly life. The book, the one about women who seek Jesus but don’t all look like suburban mammas, edgy, world-changing gals who rock tats, paint up storms, influence politics here and overseas, is out as a proposal… seeking an agent / publisher. I’ll post some pages so you can see. Poetry is being submitted, I’ll share as it makes its way onto pages. I hope to start having others share their poetry here. I’ve been inspired by my friend Emily’s imperfect prose Thursdays.

My sister-in-law, Brittany, and I have a crazy idea of starting a little onesie company, using my husband’s adorable old Scouting badges: Badge of Honour onesies on Etsy. We’re setting up shop as I type.

For now we take the days as they come, living them full, here in our home in Burnaby… Thank you for sharing this adventure with us.

Photo by lovely design

It has hurt my heart just a little bit more each month how much I wish Madeleine could have her very own room. A bright, lovely space with all of the little things little girls love. Shelves brimming with books. Felt flowers dangling from the windowsill. A handmade banner stringing the letters of her name. Baskets chalk full of trinkets and toys.

Right now, in our two bedroom place, she has to share with our desk, printer and clunky filing cabinets. But not for long… Soon she will have her own room on Bowen Island and then in Toronto, where a three bedroom home is planned. 

Sharilyn, of lovely design, continuously inspires me with the delightful space she’s created for her little Adelaide. Soon my sweet girl will have the same. And I am so grateful.

Here are a smattering of our summer so far. 

Playing with neighbour Mia at our favourite park.

Helping daddy barbecue on the patio. Sort of. 

Vegas Trip… the three sisters unite!

Me with my lovely 20-week pregnant sister Kristen (who lives there) and my inspiring, world-traveling sister Lynn (who moves to Australia this week and is marrying her Aussie sweetheart next spring)

I gambled a whopping $1 while waiting for our show (Cirque du Soliel’s Ka) to start

Fourth of July party in a gated community with these cute kiddies. Madeleine has little boy crushes. She just loved this guy, and the puppy.

Miss Madeleine discovered Nickelodeon TV. 

Hanging with uncle PJ - the soon-to-be-papa. 

Madeleine and her dolla-dolla bill.

The Bellagio lobby. Everything you see is made of individual flower blossoms.

Auntie Lynnie and Madeleine.

Bellagio lobby. All individual stained glass bowls on the ceiling. 

Paris Hotel and Casino.

Patiently waiting, way past her bedtime, to watch the Bellagio fountain show. 

Baby got free reign on the toilet paper in our hotel room. Toddler heaven.

Ready for the pool.

Green Valley Resort.

View on Vanier Beach this week — en route to the Bard on the Beach tents for a sweet date night. Much Ado About Nothing is brilliantly cast this year!

Playing on Grandma and Grandpa’s lawn at the goodbye dinner for my brother Matt (moving to Calgary) and sister Lynn. We dined on the spectacular 62-pound halibut my dad caught in the Queen Charlotte’s last week. 

Playing with cousin Reuben. Lady loves lego.

Ambling with Uncle James and Aunt Jocelyn - who are expecting a baby next month. Groot baby city. 

Relaxing on Bowen Island with daddy. I think we found our dream house for this winter.

Godfather Matthew catching a snooze on the patio. This’ll be our view soon. 

Family day in Horseshoe Bay. That rhymed. Trolls for dinner. Mmmm…

Meeting my niece two days ago. Her name is forthcoming… Congratulations Michael and Heidi!!

Gorgeous mama and baby.

Proud papa Mike (holding his one-day-old,) watching the Holland v Spain final. 

Madeleine lamenting Holland’s loss. 

Happy Summer one and all!

how to make the words come when they sit idle, close behind ear yet far. how to line phrases when the world spins by over and over. how to sit with journal in lap quiet with dishes rising, dust claiming its residency. how to stay content with five good words on an average mama day. how to bask in first words from eight-toothed mouth: mama, dadadadada, hi. how to keep my spirit still when it begs to run anxious down apartment hall. how to rest in future plans when all seems ebb of mist. how to be anxious for nothing. how to see mouth filled, white and black keys played, mastery of slide, dinner plated, life as it should be, no more. how to sit with toddling one and know the world full.

In Gastown with Mama.

Relaxing in the grass, waiting for our friends Wendy and Claire. 

Getting her stand on at Waterfront Station.

Staring down Darian.

Doing her best Kiss impression. 

Eating random stuff off the pavement. 

Chillaxin at home.

She’s a busy lady.

On the Bowen Island ferry last Friday

Life is brimming. 

This past month I had a big birthday and celebrated for a week. First, with a couple of my longest, dearest friends at Raw Canvas where, instead of receiving gifts, I entered into an afternoon of creating a reminder of friendship I can keep for all time. Steph was the daring first to dress the canvas with paint. Then Megan dove in. Then Marisa. Then me. We found a palette, together.

We sipped tea and ate cake and shared hummus. One of us got attacked by a paint gun, all of us dove in to help. Luckily it was acrylic and therefore washable. (Steph you are a silver-haired trooper.) I will cherish this afternoon (and the painting below) for years to come.

Then, the weekend of my actual birthday, Michael, Madeleine and I (and auntie Steph, for the ferry ride!) hopped the smokin’ EARLY ferry (and lucky too! that was the day of the record winds and ferry cancellations) to Victoria. First, we were able to attend the Good Friday service at St. Luke’s where the minister who married us is the rector. (See Madeleine’s first meeting Rvd. Parker below.) 

We spent three luxurious (as luxurious as they can be with a 7-month-old) at the English Inn Resort where they upgraded us from a garden facing room in the main mansion to a two bedroom, two floor town house on the sprawling heritage property. The building out our window was thatched. THATCHED. Crazy.

We spent lazy hours walking through downtown. I even got to spend some time on my own perusing Lower Johnson — the fashion hub of the city. I snagged a sweet chocolate, black and white polkadot dress and a grey knit hat. Michael had his time in the bookstores. We indulged in a private, breathtaking meal at the Rosedale - lamb shank melting off the bone. And Michael spoiled me with thoughtful, thoughtful gifts: a journal from Paper-ya, “Granville Island crack” (aka caramel chocolate brittle) and Bowen Island’s Cocoa West Signature Hot Chocolate from Edible BC, and a beautiful handmade ceramic tile we’d eyed in Vancouver a couple of weeks before. Perfection.

The next weekend some more girlfriends took me out for dinner at Sandbar and topped off the fun with a sparkling cake from Cupcakes (thank you Sara and co!)

The same weekend marked Madeleine’s baptism at our little church: St. Alban’s. Dressed in the Dutch lace gown I wore at my own baptism, she was wonderfully happy as the service took its course. It was a profound morning as the water was sprinkled, symbolizing her joining the family of God. So many of our family and friends were able to attend which was an immense blessing. Thank you to everyone who came. I was able to find time to hand-make little momentos of the day with a type-written thank you from Madeleine and Luke 18:15-17 which reads:

“But Jesus called them to Him, saying, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”  

In between all of this, Michael’s parents were in town to take in my sister-in-law Brittany’s grad fashion show. Her technical motorcycle line, Velocity, was amazing, as was the whole show. Michael’s mom also surprised me with a birthday night out at the ballet — Ballet’s BC’s big comeback show, Re/Naissance, which included of-the-moment choreographer Chrystal Pite’s stunning 24. 

Last weekend was the last one out of town for awhile, and I am glad. We spent the better part of Saturday and Sunday celebrating with my dad and stepmom as they marked their 25th wedding anniversary in Whistler. All of the siblings (all seven plus in-laws) were together for what may be the last time for years. One sister is engaged to an Australian (Yay Lynn!) and the other lives south of the border (Las Vegas, baby) and they’re both pursuing permanent residency. The family is spreading its wings… it’s sad but also very exciting as everyone chases love and their dreams.

Cousins Reuben and Jesse Fin with Madeleine

It makes me feel better about our big life plans. Toronto is very much on the table for us. It’s not something I’ve been talking a lot about because, honestly, it makes me extremely sad to consider life away from my family. At the same time, I can see glimpses from time to time of the kind of life and the kind of marriage Michael and I could have in a new place. There is possibility surrounding a huge step like that and it will require a depth of love and trust that I don’t think has been demanded of us yet. This excites me. More on that later.

This has been a whirlwind post, I will leave you with two final shots of Ms. Madeleine.

Have a wonderful day, friends.

Earlier this year I made an important decision. I signed up for a Mother’s Unfolding circle at Pomegranate Midwifery.

For six weeks ten of us newbies gathered around to talk about everything but children. While the three-month-olds gathered at our feet, nursed in our laps and flapped on the floor, we discussed marriage, bodies, careers, sex. Nothing was left off the table. We loved our group so much that most of us decided to keep meeting. So, every Friday at noon I gather with an actress, a pianist, a writer, a hair stylist and a grad student to talk about life plus one. It’s a time we all tremendously cherish.

Last week I had the privelege of hosting the ladies in our little home. Here are a couple of shots of the babes playing on the lovely quilt our neighbour crafted for Madeleine. 

The first shot was adorable:

Then we put a very tired Madeleine in the mix:

Oh dear.

Truly, my world feels small. I wake and my life, from dawn until dusk, is ordered by a 19 pound toddler. We sit on the floor. We try new foods. We tear books off shelves. We sing, play the piano, take walks, swing, babble.

Then there are moments I step out. I get my act together, cross the street and meet women, mothers, new friends. One, a forensic biologist with the RCMP. Another, a casting director. Still another, the wife of an SFU professor, recently moved from San Fransisco. These are interesting, beautiful women who, along with me, have given up their ‘day jobs’ to nurse babies on hard wood chairs in the centre of Starbucks as the world speeds by.

It’s hard to give up. It’s hard to let the e-mails stack up for days, some for weeks, as I retire at 8pm, my body a sack of worn out bones. It’s hard to pass up opportunities, quit jobs. I don’t read blogs. I scan newspapers. I get by on CBC Radio newscasts as Madeleine and I spend the day. It’s enough for now. My life demands focus. 

I am surrendering. 

It’s my theme at present: Surrender. I recently read a book titled Surrendering to Motherhood, a gift from my friend Julia that spoke right to my core. “I realized I was working not for dollars but out of ego and a need to create,” author Iris Krasnow writes. It seems I had lurched back into the saddle for the same reasons and the stress of mothering a 6-month old, keeping a home, being a wife and working on a variety of projects was quickly killing any creative energy I had left.

A glimpse into my journal tells the story best:

Father, please help me unravel. I am wound so tight. Soiled laundry, dishes, clothes demanding mending. Unwritten stories, e-mails, notes to prepare. Waiting friends, family, husband, baby… clamouring at my skin.

You win.

I surrender all into your open arms. Wash, wash, wash over me like the liquid wind of ferry deck. Spill, spill like milk, the scent of honey, washing away my worry.

It is too much for me. I need to fall open, fall out of this rhythm, this frenetic pace.

I am mother, wife, daughter, friend. Then writer, teacher, blogger, business owner.

I fail Madeleine when I spill myself like an open grave. Smiling through fatigue, tears stored on shelves for moments like these.

They are a city wall. Built up, built up. Revealed first to my mother’s eyes, ears, love. 

“I am worried about you.”

(”Heed her words,” I hear you say.)

“Cut everything out. Say no. Until you have got her on a schedule and sleeping well in the night.”

At first I push back, then I breathe out. “Yes, Mom.” And the wave pulls back…

Yes. May that be my first response, Friend. Rather than no, no, no. I don’t know better. (Oh God, do I ever not.)

Candle, key and canvas feel dead to me. Oh spirit, come. Damn you assignments, damn you ego. For what is your gain?

Strip it away. Strip it away. Strip it away. 

My life leaves me little time for writing. I have an inquisitive, social child who demands all of me in her waking moments. When I have time I want to create: pen poetry, paint, write stories — the website for the Seeking Eve (inspirational Christian women) project is almost complete and I want to concentrate my energy there. I’ll also still be blogging weekly at After Hours. 

What does that mean for this little old blog? I hope to share pictures and poetry as life unfolds, sometimes writing, though I hope to spend more and more of my time on published work.

The few of you who read here: thank you! I love being able to share my life with you in this writer-ly way. I hope you keep reading and I promise to keep you up-to-date on new projects, and our ambling life.  

I’d like to leave you with another quote from Henri Nouwen, sent to me this week by my husband (he’s been doing that a lot lately!) 

“Our Unique Call

So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyse us and depress us.

Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time.”

Here’s to seeing our call clearly and living with the trust necessary to see it through.