Up the Dempster

A New Start

2015-05-14T10:59:00.000-07:00

Hello, friends! It's been a long time since I've blogged, but I've finally got a new one up and running (days before baby #3 is due. Seems like a good plan, right?) My focus will be a bit different than here on Up the Dempster; I've decided to use blogging as a way to remember myself in all of this parenting business, and to find my way back to my passion: writing. So if you're curious, please visit me over at Tara Borin Writes.

Hope to see you there!

Big Things, Little Things

2015-02-24T08:31:00.000-08:00

I've held off on writing this post because I wanted to be sure it was for real. But now, it's pretty close to being real, so here goes...

We're moving to Ontario. I think it's pretty obvious to my readers that I very much want to live closer to my family, and we've decided to make that happen. Having the support of my parents, my sister, my extended family and P's family is so important, especially with this 3rd baby coming. I struggled hard after Colm was born. Reading back over my private journal from the last year, I was barely keeping it together. Things will (hopefully) be so much easier after this babe is born.

We've been staying at my parents since November, with the exception of two weeks in Costa Rica and a little time with P's family here and there. I'm so grateful to my mom and dad for welcoming us into their home and letting us disrupt their lives. We've got another month and a half here and then we should be moving into our own house not far away.

It's been stressful, trying to pull this mortgage together. I'm into the last trimester of my pregnancy and the exhaustion is suddenly hitting me hard. The cold weather has kept us all a bit housebound, which is not fun with an energetic 3 year old. But soon the sun will warm the air, the snow will melt...we'll be into a new house, this baby will be born, and we'll be launched into the next chapter of this life.

I've decided to put Up the Dempster to bed. I'm working on a new blog layout, and I will post a link to it here once I've started posting there. I hope you'll follow me there, where I'll write honestly about family life and mothering and maybe eventually some travel...but if you don't, I understand. The Yukon has been a huge part of my life for the last decade, and I know we're not done with it yet (we do still have a business to run there, after all) but it will be a much smaller part of things for the time being.

So, there you have it. Doing the thing I said I'd never do...moving back to southwestern Ontario!

Walkin' and Talkin'

2015-02-07T09:26:00.000-08:00

I have been meaning to sit down and write about little Collie for at least a month now. I'm awful at filling out the baby books (I think I've written Colm's name in his, so we're off to a good start) so the least I can do is keep track of milestones here.

So, what is he up to these days, almost 16 months old?

Colm is walking now, he started in early January I guess. He's got a cute little wiggle in his walk. He's determined to master the stairs, too, and usually insists going both up and down by himself.

He has also started using a few words in the last couple of weeks. He's a master at "Daddy" and he's also working on "ball" and "boat". He barks whenever he sees a dog, so I figure that's sort of like saying the word.

Colm is finally eating! I remember when my milk first started to diminish, after getting pregnant, being so worried that Colm was going to starve. He was probably 10 months old before he took more than a passing interest in solid food, and well over a year before he started eating significant amounts. His favourites right now include dill pickles, raisins, chicken, and potatoes. His tastes are so different from Aedan's...he doesn't really seem to enjoy fruit very much, though he will occasionally eat berries, a few bites of banana, or a clementine.

His eczema is fairly well controlled now, nothing like it was last winter. He is still very sensitive and gets a rash easily, but if we keep eggs, wheat and dairy out of his diet, he does okay. He's had several severe food reactions requiring epinephrine, and we have a visit with an allergist coming up to try and figure out what is causing the reaction. I suspect either dairy or some food additive. Unfortunately each time it happened, we were not in our own home, so he was eating food that was more processed than we would normally have. The ingredient lists were long, or unknown in one case, so it's a bit of a guessing game at this point.

Colm finally takes a decent nap on his own, without needing to be in my arms or have me right beside him. I am so relieved! It reminds me that all things will pass eventually. I try to keep this in mind with Aedan, who continues to be a challenge. But that is for another post I suppose!

2015 P52 Week 4: Sign of the Times

2015-01-28T09:00:00.000-08:00

In case you missed it, this year I'm participating in a group photo project on the ClickinMoms photography forum. Each week, we are given a prompt for a photo. In the end we'll have 52, one for each week of the year. I've also been taking part in a weekly blog circle with some of the other women: that's what this post is all about.

For week 4 of my project 52, we were invited to think about and photograph something that might not exist 10-20 years from now. I had a few ideas for this photo, including maps and phone booths, but in the end, I chose something more personal. This photo is of P testing Aedan's blood glucose, something we do 3 times a day. The technology is already there to replace the finger pokes and glucometers with some kind of continuous monitoring, and I think that 10 years from now it will be commonplace, and likely incorporating smartphone apps.

Please visit the rest of the talented photographers in the circle, starting with Jude!

2015 P52 Week 3: Favourite

2015-01-22T17:00:00.000-08:00

Well, I didn't get this post together in time for the blog circle, but I wanted to share anyway. This week's prompt for my project 52 was "your favourite". And right now, my favourite is nap time. Aedan is a huge challenge these days: he requires an almost inhuman amount of patience and presence. I so look forward to being able to lay down with him for the few moments before he falls asleep. When he is calm, and quiet, and not kicking or hitting or spitting or yelling. When he wakes up, it's like a clean slate. We're all refreshed and ready to get through the rest of the day.

2015 P52 week 2: House on Fire

2015-01-14T09:00:00.000-08:00

For this week's challenge, we had to think about and photograph what we'd grab if our house were on fire and we had 10 minutes to gather personal possessions. It made for some beautiful images and stories shared in the forum, and lots of thought provoking discussion.

I spent a lot of time thinking about what I would grab. But in the end, I feel like, other than the obvious (our lives) there is nothing we couldn't replace. I've lost an important piece of heirloom jewelry in the last couple of years, and it was agony for about a year. And then I got over it. They're just things. Most of my photos exist somewhere on the internet. So, I was practical in what I would grab. It doesn't make for a very interesting picture, but it certainly has had me thinking a lot over the past week.

My camera, which is replaceable, but it's always on my mind so, if I'm being honest, I would probably grab it. The diaper bag, because that's second nature by now. Aedan's boots, because I wouldn't want his feet to get cold, and his glucometer and Glyburide. Both of which are easily replaceable, but, like the camera, it's always on my mind.

Please take a few minutes to check out some of the amazing talent in our blog circle. Next up is Kristy.

Where in the world?

2015-01-08T10:35:00.000-08:00

At first I was avoiding writing this post. And then I felt ready to write it, but couldn't make the time. Now I've got about 3 posts I want to write, and I just need to get this out of the way! So, while Colm naps beside me and Aedan is quietly watching t.v., I'll fill you in.

After 2 weeks of Costa Rica, we decided it just was not the right time or place for our family to be experimenting with the ex-pat lifestyle. We made a radical change to our plans, and came back to Ontario in time for the holidays. Costa Rica is absolutely beautiful, and it is a place to which I will return. There is so much more of it to be explored, and when the kids are older, maybe we'll see it all. The beach we stayed at was wonderfully low-key, almost undiscovered really, and we've got some great memories of it. Aedan discovered that he loves to play in the waves and to devour mangoes in the sand. And Colm never showed a moments hesitation with the water! He even tried taking his first real steps in the surf. I guess he thought it would be easier to enjoy from a slightly higher vantage.

We relaxed, we soaked up the sun, we ate our combined weight in fruit, we dispatched no less than 6 scorpions from our house (and one enormous, hairy black spider), we watched a group of 10 howler monkeys move through the trees at our back deck, we played in the waves and watched the sun set over the Pacific ocean every night.

I felt so guilty, so ungrateful, when we first made the decision to come back to Ontario so soon. But I know now it was the right one. Spending the holidays with family felt like exactly the thing we should have been doing, and the boys are loving all the time with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

Without any further ado, here are some of my favourite photos from Costa Rica. Enjoy!

2015 CM P52 week 1: You

2015-01-07T09:00:00.000-08:00

One of my goals for this year is to continue to practise and improve my photography. I'm going to try to shoot daily, but I'm also trying to be realistic! Between the two littles and a baby due in May, I know I'll miss days. But I still want to push myself a little, so I've commited to a group 52 project: posting a photo a week, following the prompts on the Clickin' Moms forum. Alongside that, I'm going to join in a blog circle with some of the ladies in the group. Week 1 is a self-portrait. Seems like a logical place to start the year, so here I am!

Next in the blog circle is Karen!

Finding our bearings

2014-12-06T18:14:00.001-08:00

We've been here for a week now, and I feel like we're finally all getting settled. It's hard on the little ones, with travel by air and car, different beds, new faces, a totally different climate...and it's hard on the big ones, too!

Our house is perched on a high hillside at the edge of a wildlife preserve: our view is of a jungled river valley, and mountains behind that. We can watch big black birds of prey surfing on air currents, and smaller, brightly coloured birds flitting from tree to tree. This morning we had a group of about 10 howler monkeys pass through the trees directly over our back porch. It was our first time seeing them, though we hear them each morning just before sunrise. Theirs is a chilling sound, deep and gutteral, like something out of a zombie movie. But to see them in full daylight, they're not very big, dark in colour. They studied us curiously, passing quite close to us. One of them had a baby clinging to her front. It's hard to reconcile that frightening call with the docile faces we saw today!

Being essentially in the jungle, there are a lot of bugs, too. We've dealt with our fourth scorpion (in the house!) tonight. They're not deadly, and apparently the sting is more like that of a wasp. Only dangerous if you have an anaphylactic reaction. I really hope none of us gets stung, though. I'm constantly scanning the ground ahead of me, I check the bed before we get in at night, pull back the shower curtain every time I'm in the bathroom...

It's the end of the rainy season, but it's still so green. There are flowers blooming in the trees, on bushes and vines, it's lush and beautiful. A few nights ago we had some very strong winds, and we've been told the winds signal the beginning of the dry season. I'm curious to see how things will change over the next 7 weeks.

We're in the Nicoya Peninsula of Costa Rica, staying near a village called Nosara. There are 3 small beach towns around Nosara: Pelada, Guiones and Garza. These are all connected by winding, extremely rutted dirt roads quite literally carved out of the jungle. We are closest to Playa Pelada. It's a quiet beach, often we're the only ones there. The waves are not too huge, and there are these big rocks that extend out into the ocean. There are lots of little tide pools amoung the rocks, which Aedan loves to explore. He and Colm both love to get right into them, they're perfect for kids to play in. We've seen lots of crabs, some little fish in the pools, and in one pool in particular, there are some sea urchins. The sunsets are stunning, but once the sun goes down, it's very dark. There aren't any street lights in our area.

The fruit is so amazing, fresh and ripe and so full of flavour; we've all been gorging ourselves. Well, all except Colm, who wouldn't eat a piece of fruit to save his life...though he was curious about the watermelon today, finally!

Unfortunately I can't share pictures with you...because although I replaced the connection cable I need to get them from my camera to my iPad before leaving Ontario, I forgot the cable at my parents' house. I hope my words will suffice, until we get back, when you'll get a huge photo update!

Not done yet, and other things

2014-11-27T11:11:00.001-08:00

Well, friends, I've been keeping a secret from you. In May 2015 we will be adding one more to our family! I'm almost 16 weeks pregnant now. My appetite is returning, my regular pants are uncomfortable, and I'm carefully trying to seperate the first stirrings of life from gas. Ah, pregnancy.

I'm excited that I get to experience it all one more time. I remember taking in Colm as a newborn, thinking he'd be the last. But he'll be a middle child! I'm also nervous. The last year has been difficult for me; the adjustment from one to two kids felt anything but smooth. But I feel like I know what to expect, and can better prepare myself. I'd like to wean Colm before this baby is born, because while tandem nursing certainly made the transition easier for Aedan, it was hell for me. And I will be watching myself carefully for signs of post partum depression. I won't be afraid to ask for help this time.

So, there you go. I am incapable of going to Central America without a bun in the oven.

In other news, we leave on Saturday! I'm really looking forward to settling in and finding a routine for all of us.

I apologize for the lack of photos lately. I'm traveling with my iPad only and had lost the connector for uploading photos. I've replaced it. So you'll get to see Costa Rica, promise!

I guess I'll check in once we're settled!

Variations of Home

2014-11-18T03:30:00.000-08:00

(I wrote this post a few days ago, and was waiting until I got a photo of the door, or something, to post. But I've had a sick baby in my arms for the past couple of days. The words are more important, anyway.)

I remember visiting my parents, not long after moving to the Yukon, and referring to their house as "home". My mom told me that it made her happy to hear that I still thought of it that way.

From then on, I made a concious effort not to refer to it as home. I'd decided that the Yukon would be my new home; I could not have more than one.

I am home now, in my parents' house. It is always a comfortable feeling, as we drive from the airport through the familiar streets of the city in which I grew up. It is a deep exhale as I step through the side door and drop my bags. Everything is familiar: the smell, clean and sweet; the creak of the stairs; the way I immediately begin opening the refridgerator and the cupboards, like my teenaged self looking for something to eat; the way my sister and I fall into the rhythm of setting and clearing the table; the dinner-table conversation. All of the things I fought hard in my twenties, I embrace now. This will always be home.

But home is also a log cabin on the other side of the country, blanketed in snow. Home is the woodstove softly ticking, it is the generator humming through the dark night, it is the complete silence that accompanies a 3 am trip to the outhouse. Each time we drive the long highway between Whitehorse and Dawson, I am awed by the vastness of the territory, the wildness of it; where the only thing moving is the wind through the trees, the only sound the beat of a raven's wings. It is something I treasure but will never possess. It is a darkly beautiful jewel. It is terrifying and comforting at once.

And as we begin this journey of uprootedness, of travel, of not-knowing, home is here, in this bed where I write, my two little boys sleeping spread-eagled, arms flung across one another. Home is any bed that holds the four of us, anywhere, in any country. The familiar sounds of our shared sleep, the particular scent of our skin.

Home is any place in which we all lay down to sleep; home is any place we all wake up, together.

Leaving on a jet plane

2014-11-04T17:52:00.000-08:00

I used to think that a true Yukoner had to "stay the winter". And I've done that. I've lost it at 40 below when the sun doesn't begin to rise til 10 a.m. Those days included lots of Bailey's, pot, and pierogies. T.V. marathons, dinner parties, wine, long bundled up walks on the frozen river. Going back to bed whenever I felt like it, buried under the covers with a space heater cranked up high.

Now that I've got kids, very young kids to be exact, those days feel housebound and crazy-making. Already I feel myself breaking. It's a battle to get Aedan outside for 15 minutes of running around the yard. I know that when he's a bit older, it may be different, but for now, it's really hard. And I am prone to seasonal depression; it's gotten much worse in the last two years. I could take pills. Or, I could leave.

That's what we're doing. We're headed out for almost 4 months, our longest stretch out of the territory yet. And I no longer feel like that makes me less of a Yukoner. Actually I'm over the whole "big tough Yukoner" thing. I want to be healthy and happy for my kids, for my husband, for myself. So we'll be spending 3 weeks in Ontario visiting with family, and then we'll be spending December and January in Costa Rica. We've rented a house there, and we're so excited to be trying out the snowbird lifestyle. It's something a lot of people around here do, and something that P especially wants to explore.

I can't wait for fresh, ripe fruit juices running down my chin, seafood, ocean breezes, salt water swims, and walks on the beach. Aedan is in love with sea creatures, and for months now he's been talking about seeing dolphins and fish. I'm excited to explore tidal pools with him, play in the sand and the shallows with him.

I'm going to try my best to update regularly during our travels, and I hope you'll enjoy following along with us on this new adventure!

Thoughts on Halloween

2014-10-31T16:44:00.000-07:00

It is Halloween today, the turning of the wheel of the year into the cold, fallow season. This time of year makes me think of hurrying home in the gathering dark, walking along the edges of the sidewalks so that I might kick through fallen leaves, and hear their papery rustle beneath my feet. It makes me think of potted mums, dried corn stalks and bales of straw, of carving pumpkins and eating their seeds, toasted. It makes me think of candles glowing in darkness, of mystery and magic.

I remember Mrs. Cosman, who lived behind the school, giving out candy apples, and my mom driving us over to Nana and Poppa's so they could see our costumes. I remember the last time I went trick or treating with my friends, no parents, and getting lost in an unfamiliar neighbourhood as wet snow began to fall, and, a little older, watching Halloween over and over on Pay Per View, in the dark. I remember how my mom always had two bowls of candy: in one, the good stuff reserved for the little kids; in the other, packages of gum for the older kids.

Hay rides, haunted houses, heavy wool sweaters: all these memories come from Ontario, from my childhood and teenage years. Here in the Yukon, the rustle of fallen leaves underfoot has long been replaced by the crunch of snow: there is a foot of snow outside now. All of the things that I associate with this time of year are buried, muffled by snow. This is not the descent into winter: we are already well into that season. Even after almost 10 years here, I still struggle to incorporate these wildly unbalanced seasons into my psyche.

I don't feel particularly festive today. My kids are not dressing up. The logistics of going to town just to collect candy I don't want them to eat are too great for me. I worry I'm depriving them of some essential part of childhood, but then again, they're young still. Perhaps a bonfire tonight in the yard, if we can uncover the fire pit.

Do any of you mark this day with something other than costumes and candy? I'd love to hear what this time of year means to you!

Mama, are you happy?

2014-10-28T08:23:00.001-07:00

I get asked this question every day, several times a day. By my three year old. It is unnerving, but it also serves as an interesting check-in.

He asks it if he senses anger or irritation or sadness in me. Rarely does he ask it when I am actually in a moment of joy. It makes me pause every time he asks, because I'm never quite sure how to answer. I don't think he means it in a general sense. He means it in the moment, the only thing that exists for a three year old. And usually when he asks, I am not particularly happy in that moment. I hate to tell him that: "No, I'm not happy" because he seems to take it personally. He's told me, tearfully: "Mama, I just want you to be happy!"

That absolutely breaks my heart. It is too much for a three year old to be concerned with his mother's happiness. I start to worry that this last year, which has been such a struggle for me mentally and emotionally, has somehow had an effect on him. And really, how could it not? We spend all of our time together. He's seen me at my absolute lowest. I just hope I can minimize the damage, or at least give him some perspective.

So, when he asks me "Mama, are you happy?" I try to let him know that what I'm feeling is my own, and not his, burden to carry. I tell him that I'm tired, or that I'm frustrated because or that I just need to get out of the house. Aedan constantly asking me to examine my mental state helps me to not completely lose it. It reminds me to examine what's going on in my head, to look at the reason behind why I am reacting the way that I am. It holds me accountable.

I do love the times when I can tell him, honestly, that yes, I am happy. And when I ask him the same question, his standard answer always makes me laugh:

"Aedan, are you happy?"

"I am just a little bit sad because I lost my t-rex."

(It's taking him a long time to get over that one.)

Some days it drives me crazy, the constant asking of that question, but at the same time, I've come to be so grateful for it. He really is my little guru.

The woodpile

2014-10-24T15:12:00.002-07:00

If "getting your moose" defines fall in the Klondike, then "getting in your wood" certainly defines winter. Whether you have your own woodlot and cut it yourself, or (like us) you order it from one of the commercial woodcutters in the area; whether you prefer birch or spruce, fire-kill or clean, bucked or bucking it yourself, getting in a few cords of wood is hugely important around here. So many of us at least partially heat our homes with wood heat. Here on the Dempster, it's our only source of heat, and our woodpile is looking mighty fine these days.

We order our wood from a guy named Doug. We've spent the last couple of days bucking (cutting the logs to stove length with a chainsaw), splitting and stacking several cords of wood. It feels good to see all those neatly stacked logs: it is a warm, secure feeling.

A moment's peace

2014-10-18T18:28:00.001-07:00

It's not been the best of days for me. Full of self-doubt and self-loathing.

But now, as darkness begins to fall, I sit in a pool of lamplight listening to Chopin while Colm sleeps in my lap. Outside, it has started to snow. P and Aedan have made a bonfire and I can hear the wood popping. Soon, they'll come inside, and we'll have a simple dinner of pea soup and toast. And then it will be bedtime, and tomorrow will be different again.

Colm is 1!

2014-10-15T18:58:00.000-07:00

My sweet little Collie-saur,

I can't believe you've already been with us for a year, and yet it feels like you've been with us forever.

With your sparkling blue-grey eyes and your silly little laugh, you bring so much joy to our family. You are such a good-natured little boy; through the very worst of your eczema, through all the rough times with your big brother, you still smile so easy. You wake up smiling every morning (unless you've been woken up too soon) and that smile carries you through the day.

You can be quite serious, too, watching me or Aedan with your curious gaze, your mouth drawn into a pout of concentration. You take the work of packing and unpacking things very seriously indeed, putting all the blocks you can fit into your little shape-sorter. You like to pack and unpack yourself, too, into baskets and boxes.

I think you're going to be a little dare-devil, like your Auntie Brea was, only because you seem to want to do whatever it is that your big brother is doing. Leaping over the back of the couch? Sliding down rocky slopes to the pond's edge? You are all too eager for these things, and you're not even walking yet!

In the last couple of months you are finally taking more than a passing interest in food. You don't seem to be much of a breakfast man, but you love chicken and turkey and tofu, hummus, noodles, rice and beans. You seem mildly interested in vegetables but you won't give fruit the time of day. Except for that one time, when you ate three blueberries. You love drinking water, especially from Mama's cup, and you're fast learning how to handle a cup by yourself.

You like turning the pages of books but don't seem to care about hearing the story. The dogs make you laugh. You love crawling and tumbling all over our big bed, and you're even starting to rough-house with your brother--or at least, you seem to be a willing participant in his rough play. It scares the crap out of me, but I try to follow your lead.

You clap and you wave and you're just a delight. We love you so much, Colm Ferguson, and I can't imagine our family without you.

Happy 1st birthday, little love!

Brothers

2014-09-20T08:20:00.001-07:00

Something I've really been enjoying lately is watching the connection grow between Aedan and Colm. They just love each other so completely, without reserve or qualification. Though Aedan can sometimes get a bit carried away, he's generally full of kisses and pats. He'll tell Colm when he's getting into something he shouldn't ("No, Collie! Get out of there!") or offer random toys to him. He just can't wait for Colm to wake up in the mornings, and usually speeds the process along by climbing over me and bestowing kisses all over Colm's face and arms. And then sounds really surprised when he wakes up. "Oh! I think he's waking up now!" It's so sweet.

Colm clearly loves his big brother, too. He can dissolve into a fit of giggles just by looking at Aedan. He crawls after him where ever he goes, and lately I've noticed him trying to do what Aedan does. We were at the pond the other day, Aedan throwing rocks (of course) and I watched Colm edge as close as he could get to the water, pick up a little rock, and drop it in. He did this multiple times, watching his brother carefully. I've noticed him do the same with sticks, at the river. He also tries to stand up on the arm of the couch, and launch over the back of the loveseat beside it, something Aedan does a million times a day. I'm beginning to realize that I'm going to have to watch this little one very carefully!

Parenting two kids is often exhausting. I have little time for myself (which is partly my own fault, I'm terrible at making time for myself, but that's another post.) Watching these two grow together, though, is immensely rewarding. I wonder if they'll make up their own secret language, hiding out in a fort in the woods around our house. I picture them wrestling on the living room floor, or skipping stones at the river. I see so many shared adventures ahead of them, and I hope they'll always be friends.

Three!

2014-09-14T09:16:00.001-07:00

Little Aedan,

Yesterday was your third birthday. We had your first ever real birthday party, with your friends and Yukon family coming out to the house for a bonfire in the afternoon. You were so excited to have your friends visit! Every time a car pulled into the driveway, you ran alongside the dogs to greet them, barking just like Cilla barks. You had fun playing dinosaurs with Tristan and visiting with Tante Cat and Megan. We sang to you, and you blew out your candle.

I can't believe how much you've changed in the last year. You speak so well, and you are fearless when it comes to trying new and multi-syllable words (especially dinosaur names, like euoplocephalus and brachiosaurus). You run, and jump, and go up and down the steep stairs to our loft with no problem. You finally like the bath, but you still hate having your teeth brushed. You're not so obsessed with diggers anymore, but you sure love your dinos and your sea creatures.

This year, we ended our breastfeeding relationship. You weren't very happy about it at first, but things are so much better between us now. You sleep the whole night through, and when you do need comfort in the night, you tuck your little hand inside my shirt, against my skin, and that seems to be enough.

One thing that has stayed constant in the last year: your love of throwing sticks and rocks into water. Forget slides and swings...give you a river and a rocky beach and you're occupied for hours.

You love a little touch of maple syrup on your oatmeal in the morning, and soy sauce on just about everything else. You love french fries, and tofu, and peanut butter sandwiches and frozen peas. Berries of any kind seem to be your favourite fruit these days.

You are really asserting your independence, and I try so hard to respect that and to give you space to be you. But sometimes I think you disagree with me just because you can. If I'm sitting in a certain chair, you will insist that I am not sitting in that chair, that it is your chair. I could observe that it is a beautiful sunny day and you will assure me that the sun is not shining. It's hilarious and maddening at the same time.

Perhaps the biggest change in your life this year has been becoming a big brother. You have welcomed Colm into our family whole-heartedly. You've never seemed jealous. You love him (a little too hard sometimes) and I'm so excited to watch you grow together.

You delight me, you frustrate me, you amaze me. I feel so lucky to be sharing this life with you.

Love, Mama

xo

Our Home in the Forest

2014-09-09T08:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the September 2014 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Home Tour

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama. This month our participants have opened up their doors and given us a photo-rich glimpse into how they arrange their living spaces.

***

When I look out of any window in our house, I see only trees: birch, poplar, aspen, and spruce. Mostly spruce. Our home is made of spruce: big logs peeled clean by my husband's hands form the high-ceiling'd family room, and smaller squared logs make up the kitchen and loft, the original building on these five acres. We heat our home with spruce, and birch, too, There is birch in the woodstove now; it smells faintly sweet.

We live off-grid: our house runs off a deck of 10 deep-cycle batteries. During our short summer, we get a boost from our solar panels, and run the generator every 3 or 4 days to fully charge the batteries. In the darker months, we run the gen-set more like every 2 days. We've got some running water now, too. We fill a 250 gallon storage tank in our house with water we transport from town in another tank on the back of an old pick-up truck. So far we've only got the kitchen sink plumbed, but the propane on-demand water heater makes doing the dishes or bathing the babies that much easier (before, we heated water in a big kettle on the stove). We shower in town. And we use an outhouse. Even at forty below. I grumble about it but I've seen some awesome displays of the northern lights while stumbling outside to pee in the night. It is a reminder to be thankful for the little things.

Our house is cluttered and usually messy. P and I both have a love of books, so the book shelves are filled until they break with the weight. There are books in stacks on the floor, books lining kitchen shelves, books in the windowsills, books balanced on the side tables. We try to cull every once in a while, but very few seem to make the cut. I tend to be more ruthless, but only by a little bit.

The kitchen counters are crowded with jars of oatmeal, beans, lentils, spices, and jars of wildcrafted herbs: raspberry leaf, rose hips, plantain, labrador tea, and yarrow. There are boxes of tea, a tin of coffee, bottles of oils and vinegars and hot sauces. There is a bowl of fruit, a copper tea kettle, a loaf of bread, a jar of fermenting water kefir. There are glasses of water half-drunk, and always, always a stack of dishes: it seems to cycle from one side of the sink to the other, dirty then clean then dirtied again: rarely do they find their way back to the dish cupboard.

Our loft, where we all share a Fraken-bed, is reminiscent of my teenaged bedroom, which is to say: the bed is never made and there are clothes everywhere. It's embarrassing. No one gets to see it but us.

Our home is unfinished, cluttered, dusty, a mine-field of blocks and dinosaurs and dropped bits of food. I've struggled with this off-grid life; it wasn't my choosing in the beginning. Even recently, I've posted about wanting to move to town. But these days, I see the beauty in where we live. I see the unique opportunities it provides our boys. I've come to love the wide open space: 5 titled acres, and nothing but forest, river and mountain all around. I love the total silence, and the complete dark of the nights. I love the possibilities.

Thank you for visiting our home up the Dempster!

***

Visit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(This list will be updated by afternoon September 9 with all the carnival links.)

Being Barlow Home Tour — Follow along as Jessica at Being Barlow gives you the tour of her family's home.
A Tour Of My Hybrid Rasta Kitchen — Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama takes you on a tour of her kitchen complete with a Kombucha Corner, a large turtle, her tea stash, and of course, all her must-have kitchen gadgets. Check out Hybrid Rasta Mama's most favorite space!
Dreaming of a Sisters Room — Bianca, The Pierogie Mama, dreams, schemes and pins ideas for when her younger daughter is ready to move out of the family bed and share a room with her older sister.
Building a life — Constructing a dream — Survivor at Surviving Mexico-Adventures and Disasters shows you a glimpse inside the home her family built and talks about adaptions they made in constructing their lives in Mexico.
Why I'm Sleeping in the Dining Room — Becca at The Earthling's Handbook welcomed a new baby but didn't have a spare bedroom. She explains how her family rearranged the house to create Lydia's nursing nest and changed room in spaces they already had.
The Gratitude Tour — Inspired by Momastry's recent "home tour," That Mama Gretchen is highlighting imperfect snapshots of things she's thankful for around her home. Don't plan to pin anything!
Our Home in the Forest — Tara from Up the Dempster gives you a peek into life lived off-grid in Canada's Yukon Territory.
natural bedding for kids — Emma at Your Fonder Heart shows you how her family of 3 (soon to be 4) manages to keep their two cotton & wool beds clean and dry (plus a little on the end of cosleeping — for now).
I love our home — ANonyMous at Radical Ramblings explains how lucky she feels to have the home she does, and why she strives so hard to keep it tidy.
Not-So-Extreme Makeover: Sunshine and Rainbows Edition — Dionna at Code Name: Mama was tired of her dark, outdated house, so she brightened it up and added some color.
Our little outdoor space — Tat at Mum in search invites you to visit her balcony, where her children make friends with wildlife.
Our Funky, Bright, Eclectic, Montessori Home — Rachel at Bread and Roses shows you her family's newly renovated home and how it's set up with Montessori principles in mind for her 15-month-old to have independence.
Beach cottage in progress — Ever tried to turn a 1980s condo into a 1920s beach bungalow? Lauren at Hobo Mama is giving it a try!
Conjuring home: intention in renovation — Jessica at Crunchy-Chewy Mama explains why she and her husband took on a huge renovation with two little kids and shares the downsides and the ups, too.
Learning At Home — Kerry at City Kids Homeschooling helps us to re-imagine the ordinary spaces of our homes to ignite natural learning.
My Dining Room Table — Kellie at Our Mindful Life loves her dining room table — and everything surrounding it!
Sight words and life lessons — The room that seemed to fit the least in Laura from Pug in the Kitchen's life is now host to her family's homeschool adventures and a room they couldn't imagine life without!
A Tour of Our Church — Garry at Postilius invites you virtually visit him in the 19th-century, one-room church where he lives with his spouse and two kids.
Preparing a Montessori Baby-Toddler Space at Home — Deb Chitwood at Living Montessori Now shares the Montessori baby-toddler space she's created in the main living area of her home along with a variety of resources for creating a Montessori-friendly home.
The Old Bailey House — Come peek through the window of The Old Bailey House where Erica at ChildOrganics resides with her little ones.
My New House Not-Monday: The Stairs — Claire at The Adventures of Lactating Girl shows you her new laminate stairs in her not-so-new-anymore house.
To Minimalist and Back Again — Jorje of Momma Jorje shares how she went to the extreme as a minimalist and bounced right back. Read how she finds it difficult to maintain the minimalist lifestyle when upsizing living space.
Our Life As Modern-Day Nomads — This family of five lives in 194 square feet of space — with the whole of North America as a back yard. Paige of Our Road Less Traveled guest posts at Natural Parents Network.

Fall in the Klondike Valley

2014-09-04T09:15:00.001-07:00

While it is fall in name only in many parts of Canada, here in the North, we are most definitely in the thick of it.

Fall is birch and aspen shimmering gold; it is the leaves of the fireweed and wild rose turning yellow, orange, deep purple, scarlet. It is a breathtaking display of colours on the tundra. It makes me think of a richly woven carpet, spread out over the mountains. We take drives out to Tombstone Territorial Park, just up the highway from our house, to drink it all in.

It is a time of dark nights filled with stars and undulating aurora borealis. It is sometimes damp. It is morning frosts laying the tall wild grasses low, and sweetening the cranberries that hang ripe on the bush.

Fall here is guys in checkered flannel jackets asking "Got your moose?" over cups of coffee in the Eldo. We head to the hills on warm afternoons, plunk our babies down in the soft moss and lichen, and fill our buckets with wild blueberries, keeping the conversation up so the bears know we're there. We hurry to get the garden in, chopping, blanching, freezing and canning, listening for the soft "plink" of the jars sealing. We work on the woodpile, bucking up logs into stove-lengths, splitting, stacking.

Fall is the final push to get it all done before cold weather and dark nights settle in. The miners pull the last bit of gold from the ground, and the bartenders and blackjack dealers pull the last bit of gold from the miners. The seasonal businesses run down their stock, close up hotel rooms one by one for the winter; the boards are nailed up over the windows and doors. The town is quieter, now.

More than anything, fall up here feels to me like leaving. Maybe I haven't been here long enough yet to feel settled. Maybe I've just got leaving in my heart. It is a tightness in the throat as we watch the cranes fly overhead and the seasonal workers hitch their way out of town, back to Toronto or Vancouver or Montreal.

For those of us left behind, it is a time of drawing in, and of reconnecting with friends after a busy summer. There is a scramble to find someone to shack up with, making high rent and long cold nights more tolerable. We hunker down as winter approaches, we speculate on what kind of a winter it might be, sizing it up with more than a little apprehension.

Fall here is brief and beautiful; it is hurrying up and slowing down all at once.

Barry's Memorial

2014-09-01T09:03:00.001-07:00

(Barry and me, on the right)

I've been trying to write this post all week, but busy days and changing nap schedules have left me little time to do it.

Last Monday was our friend Barry's memorial service. We gathered at the Commissioner's Residence, a beautifully restored historic building in Dawson City. The flowers in the garden were still blooming, and the red of the poppies gently waving in the wind and the yellow of the building served as a bright counterpoint to the grey clouds that were crowding into the Klondike valley.

Barry was no ordinary man, and this was no ordinary memorial. The organizers decided to apply for a liquor license, because it was assumed that people would be bringing alcohol anyway. Since it was being held on Parks Canada property, that fact made some nervous. So the local fastball team ran the bar. There was a table with photos of Barry from his time here in the North, and some of his more iconic shirts, hats and beer cozies were on display. There were also buttons made with his picture and his favourite sayings (like "groovy" and "Dave's not here, man") and there were t-shirts for sale, too. It was pretty wild. After the service, we shot some shirts out of a t-shirt canon.

The service was short, with friends speaking about Barry and a few beautiful poems read. After that, we placed feathers in a basket, to send our loving thoughts on with our friend. He was a naturalist, and loved birds. He kept a record of their comings and goings each year at his place on Strickland Lake.

Our love, our hope, and our sorrow placed with our feathers, we proceeded across Front St. to the banks of the river. It started to rain as we gathered on the rocky exposed river bed. Two of his dearest friends got into a boat with our feathers and a jar of his ashes, and then they were taken out past the dark waters of the Klondike, to where the sand-coloured Yukon mixes in. It was in these waters that Barry wanted his ashes scattered. On the count of eleven (another of his sayings) Barry's ashes were released, along with the feathers. Watching those ashes scatter in the wind, settling into the fast-flowing waters, and our little bundle of feathers spread out across the surface, was incredibly peaceful. It made me think of the lyrics of a John Prine song:

"When I die let my ashes float down the Green River,

and my soul roll on up to the Rochester Dam.

I'll be halfway to heaven, with Paradise waitin'

just 5 miles away from where ever I am."

It was like we'd been holding our collective breath after we learned of Barry's suicide, and with this, we all let it go. The sun started to come out as we crossed the road back to the Commissioner's Residence for a barbeque. It was really beautiful, and I think Barry would have approved.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about depression and suicide. It is such a complex issue, not easy to understand. But I no longer feel angry with my friend. The anger has been replaced by a deep sadness, for those of us left behind and for him, too. I'm so sad that none of us saw the signs, or if we did, we didn't know how to act. I'm so sad that a man who had such an incredible love of life and all of its weirdness, in the end became so lost in the darkness of his depression that suicide seemed like the only way to some relief. It makes me sob even now, writing this. Such a wonderful human being, so full of love, and so happy just to be. That is what I want to remember about him.

I feel like, for Barry, we must do two things. First, we must be vigilant with ourselves and with each other. If we feel ourselves slipping into that darkness, or see someone else lost there, we must do everything we can to help, and to fight for this life. Because it is a beautiful gift. And that brings me to the second thing we must do for Barry. We must love this life and all of its oddities, treasuring each moment, delighting in where it takes us, and being unapologetic about who we are.

(the photo taken at the river was taken by Heidi Bliedung. Used with permission.)

Happy birthday, Hunter-bear!

2014-08-19T13:28:00.002-07:00

My nephew celebrates his first birthday today! It's hard to believe that a year has passed already. I am so grateful that I was there when he was born, and that I've been able to spend some time with him over the last year!

Little Hunter-bear, I love the funny faces you make. I love your big brown eyes and your soft hair.

You'd just started walking when I saw you in June, and I imagine now your mom and dad can hardly keep up. You are curious and easy-going and you love love love the water!

I'm so excited for all this next year holds for you. Love you little bear!

Barry

2014-08-15T10:12:00.001-07:00

With your wispy white curls fluffing out from under your ballcap, your ruddy face and your bright blue eyes.

Your's was a loving, gentle, fun-loving soul.

You gave wonderful, full-body hugs. I'll always remember your particular scent.

You were one of the few people to drop by for a visit, and I am forever grateful for that. I hope you knew how much that meant to me.

You loved live music, and theatre. You loved to dance in your own groovy way. You loved baseball, and I think everyone loved watching the Discovery Days tournament with you. You also loved watching sports on tv, in the bar. You'd come in to town after spending all your time at the lake, just because it was time for the World Cup. In fact, that was one of our lasts visits together. You stopped by on your way in.

You had a hard time remembering names, and called a lot of people Dave. You did things on the count of eleven. You often had food in your coat pockets: a banana, a steak, Babybel cheese. You loved Kokanee and Jack Daniels made you go into a sneezing fit. You made a mean silly chili.

You loved dogs, and mushing, and your friends--you made friends easy. You loved solitude, and bush life, and your lake.

And you'd been so sad these past couple of years, and none of us knew quite what to do.

And then you chose to end your pain in the most violent and final way imaginable. In spite of all the people who loved you, and all of the things you loved on this earth, you didn't choose life.

Forgive me for being so fucking angry with you for that.

I love you, Barry. We all do, and you will be sorely missed.

All's well that ends well.

2014-08-09T09:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was not a great day. I was tired, and Aedan was trying, so there was a lot of yelling and more than a few bouts of tears. This whole "terrible twos" business is terribly misleading...all of toddlerhood seems to be full of frustration and flexing of wills and also wonderful, burgeoning independence and personality. Aedan is almost three, and I'm beginning to suspect that things aren't going to magically change at the stroke of midnight on his birthday.

I guess it's me who must change, become even more patient and understanding.

But I digress. Yesterday I was neither patient nor understanding. And then P got home from work and he wasn't much better. When bedtime (finally, thankfully) rolled around, Aedan said he wanted to sleep with Daddy. So P came up to bed with us.

I lay on my side in our bed with Colm, nursing him to sleep, drifting myself in that in-between place, while P snuggled Aedan up. After a few minutes, Aedan asked, in his tiny voice: "Want Daddy to sing to you?"

"Okay," P replied. And softly, he began, "Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named Jed."

I perked up a little.

"A poor mountaineer barely kept his family fed.
And then one day out shooting some food,
up from the ground came a bubbling crude."

Fully awake now, I joined in:

"Oil, that is. Black gold. Texas tea."

(is this familiar to you, too?)

Then we started laughing, and Aedan thought it was time to get up and play. We settled him back down, and P finished singing him the theme song from The Beverley Hillbillies ("it's the only song I can think of!" he told me) and we all drifted off to sleep, the day's hurts forgotten.