To the beach in winter

This morning my best friend called me and told me that even though there was a light smattering of snow, me and my boots needed to get outside. Which made me love her all the more, for both sharing a lovely relaxing morning and for admitting that she's actually reading this blog :)

So we made a trek south to this beach. It was 1 C (that's 33 F for all you murkins) and a strong wind blew down the Strait, bringing little snowflakes which bounced about and sparkled in the winter sun. We strolled along the million-dollar homes, while Liam contentedly bounced in and out of the driftwood, finding stones to throw and puddles to jump in. The tide was high, but we did find some anemones to show Liam and some really cool rock formations.


After yesterday's blog entry, I was feeling a little raw. Talking about one's post-partum depression is never easy. I am glad that all of those memories are slowly but surely being balanced out by days like today!

Living in a glass house and all

Earlier this week, we all had a good laugh at the antics of Britney Spears, who appeared to have completely lost it for all the world to see. I recall saying something derisive along the lines of predicting certain drug overdose within the month. Then I read dooce's blog entry on the topic, and I felt incredibly humbled and embarrassed. How can we, as a society, simultaneously depict motherhood as blissful and perfect, while viciously attacking anyone that fails to achieve perfection at it?

Now, I'll be the first to acknowledge that it's clear that Britney has made some choices in her life that would give most people regrets. And I don't pretend for an instant to know anything about what it's like to be a celebrity. I know nothing about Britney Spear's life, or her relationship with her husband, her babies, her friends, or with drugs and alcohol. I don't know if she has addictions or post-partum depression or poor judgement or some combination of all three.

But I will tell you what I do know. I know what it is like to wake up in the morning and wonder what the hell happened to my career. I know what it is like to watch my peers from university become successful, getting top research jobs, becoming assistant professors, publishing papers, taking on graduate students of their own - while I am changing diapers and driving the minivan. I know what it is like to think "I was a star!" and wonder if I will ever get back to the place where I was being recognized for my talents, where awards and scholarships came effortlessly.

I know what it is like to look at my body and feel depressed and angry that it will never be the same. I know what it is like to hear people tell me, "But you are a mother now, that is the most important profession in the world!" and feel ashamed and guilty that I don't completely agree with them. I know what it is like to feel envy from others because they think I have lots of money and therefore I should be happy and not complain. I know how it feels to make mistakes as a mother and to feel judged by friends and strangers alike for it. And I know that if I hadn't found a group of other mothers that were struggling with the same emotions, I might not be here today.

Don't get me wrong. I passionately love my children and my husband and I would never change them for the world. I am generally happy with the decisions I've made and I'm trying to balance all the many facets of my life. But being a mother isn't easy. For me, it's a constant struggle of many emotions, most of them positive, others not so much.

I also know that if I had to go through all these struggles under the merciless scrutiny of the world press, that I would not survive. I'm not afraid to admit on this blog that there have been times that I have lost it too. That I have phoned my husband at work and cried hysterically. And that I have phoned my husband at work and said nothing but held up the screaming baby to the phone. That the first time I left the house on my own after Kieran was born, I considered driving right past the grocery store and heading north on the highway. That I have had to pee by the side of the road so as not to have to take my sleeping baby out of his car seat while driving solo from Seattle to Vancouver. That I have been a complete bitch to innocent cashiers because my children were being headstrong that day. That once I drove my 2-week-old baby across San Francisco, unlatched in his car seat, because I was too sleep-deprived to remember to do it up. That I have gone for days without brushing my hair. That I have stayed in my pyjamas until just before my husband got home from work. That I have screamed at my kids.

I'm not proud of these things, but I'm not afraid to admit them. Because I'm convinced that all mothers have similar experiences, we're just conditioned not to talk about them. Which means that all the other first-time mothers out there go through the same cycle again, feeling like failures because they think everyone else is perfect and that motherhood is supposed to be easy.

And I thank God that when these things happened to me, that unglamorous photos of them weren't immediately blasted around the internet along with other people's assessments of the situation. Because that would not be fair.

And therefore, I refuse to judge.

these boots

One thing I did realize while I was in Peru is that if I'm wearing my hiking boots, I'm feeling vibrant and alive! This is true whether I'm wrangling seals, hiking in a forest, exploring a beach with my kids, or even mowing my lawn. I think a simple way to add balance to my life is to try to wear my boots as often as I can.


It got me thinking about where these boots and I have been together. I bought these boots in 1993, right before Michael and I went back-packing around Europe for 5 months. We'd just graduated from university and we went everywhere. This is not a paid ad for Vasque, but it should be as these boots have lasted 14 years and counting and they're still just as good as when I bought them. OK, so I've gone through a couple of pairs of laces, and the grommets are getting rusty (walking in guano dirt will do that!). But I love them, even though nowadays they sometimes get usurped by my Blunnies (which I love so much I went to Australia to get).

These boots have taken me around the world a few times. I dug up some photos and had a stroll down memory lane.

These boots in the Swiss Alps. We were hiking with Francis, Susanne and Digg on a glorious March day. Later, Susanne's Mum made us the best fondue I've ever tasted.


These boots in front of the swanky marina in Nice. To be fair, after walking around the French Riviera in my big ol' North American hikin' boots for a week or so, I broke down and bought a little pair of black Audrey Hepburn pumps for around town. Because, you know, the baggy Alaska sweater and the stretch pants wouldn't also be a dead give-away that I'm not from these parts.


These boots at Macchu Picchu. Tanya and I survived the Train Ride of Chickens and Floods to get to Aguas Calientes the night before, and got up to the site early to scale Huayna Picchu (in the background) before exploring the ruins. That hike bloody near killed us, and afterwards we learned that the vestal virgins apparently did it daily before breakfast. Without hiking boots.



These boots at Harlequin Lake, Alaska, where the glacier dumps big chunks of ice into the lake that float about and die gracefully on the shore like anorexic swans. Here Shawn and I had the unforgettable Encounter With Grizzly That Transformed At Last Minute into Juvenile Moose and scared the crap out of us either way.


These boots in front of Ben Nevis in Scotland - we had planned to climb Ben Nevis that day but the weather packed in and we didn't have any crampons or ice picks to complete the ascent. But we were quite content to sit on top of a peak (I think it's Meall an t-Suidhe) right next to the UK's highest. It was March and it was as cold as it looks. Kaje took the photo. And led the way. And made the sandwiches. But we bought the beer later.



These boots at The Falls - my favorite spot in the state of Washington, with my sisters and 3-week-old Liam. In this photo lives a part of my soul.


These boots in a kauri forest in New Zealand with my honey (and his boots!). Of all the photos I dug up in my quest for boot pix, this is my favorite.

I wonder where these boots will take me next? Or perhaps more importantly, where do I want them to take me?

Elk Falls

Today we took a road trip to Elk Falls, a spot that has a lot of significance for both Michael and I. It had been pouring rain at lunchtime and we'd been treated to a magnificent rainbow over the fishing boats in the marina.

Walking in the rainforest made me so calm and so grateful that we live in one of the most beautiful corners of the world. I must remember to bring the kids to places like these more often.


By the time I took this photo of the woods, it was lightly raining again - little pellets of freezing rain, even though it didn't seem that cold. But they jumped around on the camera like little pixies so I didn't have the heart to edit them out of the photo... Incredibly, it was even greener than the image could capture, the moss on the trees was glowing like neon.

Tarry me Mummy!! I all MUDDEE!!

The Great Bunkbed Experiment

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... we stole an idea from our friend Michelle, who also has 2 rambunctious boys about the same ages as ours. We pitched it to Kieran and Liam and they thought it was grand, so as of last weekend we have.... bunkbeds!! Here's Kieran (with best buddy Nathaniel) and Liam showing them off:

We installed them in Liam's room with the help of Courageous Mark, and moved Kieran's bookshelf and dresser in too. The kids seem to think they're brilliant... and so far it seems to be working - bedtime is still a bit crazy but it seems to be taking only 1 hour instead of 2.... Even better, it only takes one parent, which is nice for those nights when Mike has a meeting or I'm in Peru or something. Liam had a bit of a freak-out with the guard-rail the first night, so now we just have some extra cushions on the floor underneath instead in case he falls off - which he hasn't so far.

yook, I got a MOON yight!!

The bookshelves miraculously fit together at the end of the bed to form a cute little book nook. It's like we planned it or something! So now we read by the books at night before tucking them in and starting the lights-out madness...

And yes, pretty much everything you see is from IKEA. Or Goats on the Roof. And yes, the walls really are lime green. Cool eh?!

Meanwhile, Kieran's room is being converted into the playroom. Yes, we do have a huge playroom downstairs, which the kids never use because of, you know, the monsters down there! So we're hoping for the next couple of years that this arrangement will work better for them. I'll post photos of the playroom once it's all nicely organized (ha ha).

reflecting

I like blogging, and playing with photography, but I'm finding it hard to do much of either these days. It seems somewhat self-indulgent, to take time out of the chaos to post, but then - perhaps then I'm not fulfilling my own needs?

There are two photos that were taken of me while in Peru last November that I've been thinking of a lot recently.


This is me in my element - on the beach, writing in my field notebook, thinking about my research and coming up with questions about science and marine biology.... Everything was so simple there, even though we worked 18-hour days, were attacked by evil ticks wherever we went, and did all our own laundry by hand! But my time was my OWN. I packed a lot into three weeks - full days of data collection, maintaining an educational blog nightly for Kieran's school, and delivering a huge donation to a local school - but every day we still had time to prepare healthy nutritious food, to read, to sit and watch the ocean, to chat. We had very little there. My room had a bed, a desk and a chair. Desert sand coated all my things by the end of each day. We had electricity only for lights, but mostly we used our headlamps for getting around. We had no fridge, no microwave, no TV, no laundry machines, and we went into town nightly for showers and internet.

While I was there, it was like going back in time, to when I could actually use my brain for what it was trained for. I was a real marine biologist again. I was getting by in Spanish. I realized that this, THIS is what I wanted to be spending my time on when I got back to Canada. I resolved to put aside at least a day a week to work on my own research. I resolved to start feeding my children the sorts of simple meals we ate in Peru. I wanted to instill in my children a sense of value and gratitude that they have SO much while children in other countries have so little.

..............................

I really found this to be true when I visited the local school. Before I went to Peru, I realized I wanted to give something back to this community, that had hosted me some years before while I was collecting data for my Master's degree. I contacted my colleagues down there to find a local school that was in need of help. While some of the other schools in town were supported by the mine, the biggest employer in town, this particular school was made up of families from the other side of town - their parents were fishermen, motorcycle-taxi drivers, house cleaners, or unemployed entirely and living in shanty towns in houses they'd made themselves. They provided hot lunches for many of the kids each day, but they only received enough subsidy from the government for about 80 out of the 150 kids in need of lunch - typically, rice and beans, and for many of these children, the only meal of the day. So the school teachers told us they needed kitchen supplies most of all, as well as classroom materials.

I took this idea to Kieran's school, and the students and parents there raised $1,000 in one day! I was able to buy every single item on the school's wish list, in the market in Lima on my way down. We delivered the donated items on the back of our research truck, and it was piled high with massive pots, new plates and cutlery, all manner of classroom supplies, art supplies, games and balls of all kinds. When we arrived at the school, the kids all came out with signs with my name on them, thanking me for such a wonderful gesture.

When I saw the looks on the faces of those children, their teachers and the lovely cooking ladies in the humble kitchen, I realized it was one of my most proud moments ever. I could think of only two others - Liam's triumphant birth, and getting my first degree. And since then, I've been thinking how really easy it is to incorporate philanthropy into travel. As a family, we travel a fair amount, but how cool would it be to get connected with a local school or orphanage at each of our destinations, and find out what they need, raise the money and visit them with gifts from the blue? How valuable for my children to see this in action, to participate, to connect with other children around the world, and realize that they are all the same? How much more rewarding than sitting on a beach with an umbrella in one's glass, or listening to a tour guide, when we could be sitting in a school, eating tuna and beans and rice, next to the cutest 2nd grader ever?

....................................

But here's the thing. Then I flew home. And the marine biologist / global children's advocate disappeared in a *poof*. I'm back to all my other responsibilities - organizing the kids' days, making lunches, taking minutes at school, researching projects for the school, coordinating play-dates, driving to karate, keeping track of library books, trying to hold onto my part-time job, facilitating a support group, balancing our personal finances, wrapping my head around our business finances, trying to provide my family with healthy food in spite of food allergies and picky eaters, keeping the house clean and maintained, folding the never-ending laundry, mending Kieran's uniform sweatpants that get torn every few weeks, convincing Liam to potty-train, convincing Kieran to wear his patch, keeping alive two cats, a fish and a lot of thirsty house-plants, listening to my husband's stresses about work, trying to be a good wife and mother and friend and daughter and auntie, and exercise? that's been shelved until further notice.

So how to balance all this? How do get to that place of comfort in my soul that I found when I was in Peru? I have no idea. But I'm working on it. And hoping that I can find time to blog as well. It does help me to at least vent, and hopefully as time passes I can start to find that place of balance. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. How do YOU manage? Or are you stretched just as thin as I?