The Beginning of the End

Last week some of our dearest friends invited us to a farewell lunch. As per usual the fare was incredible, but it was their wisdom that gave us something to chew on. It had really never occurred to me to drive by all the places we lived and favourite places we frequented one last time. It isn't that I'm not nostalgic, but perhaps I'm in a little bit of denial that this is really the beginning of the end of our time here in Vancouver.

Suddenly the idea of touring Vancouver seemed very important though so Michael and I drove by every flat we had lived in, reminiscing about old roommates, landlords and neighbours. In the coming days we hit Las Margaritas with friends for my birthday lunch. I was crushed when the unseasonable rain, and my lack of rain gear, prevented us from walking one last time on Kits Beach. On Wednesday I went downtown and had my hair did, picking up some Onigiri and Hi-Chew at a little Japanese shop on Robson, then grabbing a latte from Cafe Artigiano. Yesterday was my last Mommies Group Thursday. And today will be my final visit to the North Shore. I am still praying for sun to amble in along Ambleside with all my munchkins in tow. At least Park Royal Village has an Arti's!!!

Today is officially the one week mark and everything seems to finally be sinking in. Tomorrow is Jack's last golf lesson and our fabulous not-just-neighbours-our-children-grew-up-together are hosting a goodbye BBQ - our last here in Vancouver. Where I suspect a glass of wine and a plate of meat will most likely result in salty tears of realization!

This time next Friday we will be headed East, having spent the night in the home of some of the sweetest, most generous friends we could have been blessed with. This will actually be the kids first sleepover - and the first of many firsts and new adventures for this little family!

Here and There

One of my favourite things about Vancouver is being downtown. I love how the streets rise and fall toward the ocean on all sides, and I find the combination of old growth forest versus towering skyscrapers enchanting...and the shopping is to die for!

Before moving to Vancouver I lived in an expansive, albeit beautiful, Suburbia. I drove to the store, to school, to the movies,  church, the mall, and the grocery store. This sprawling city had a downtown core that all but shut down after 6pm. Going to an evening at the theatre was somewhat of an eerie experience. You got out of the car and tumbleweed blew by. In Vancouver I walked to the theatre because, in Vancouver, I walked everywhere.

Shortly after getting married we bought our very first apartment in downtown Vancouver. We had a car, but our parking stall was used more extensively than our vehicle! When the time came we actually walked across the street to the hospital where Jack was born. Then we walked home with him the very next day!

But what we loved in long walks on the seawall we lacked in space, so we drove to the suburbs and have been driving in, out and all around Vancouver ever since. I could not believe how many additional kilometers we put on the car. We really missed the ease of proximity.

Nestled at the foot of Red Mountain, Rossland has this quaint little downtown strip. Groceries, coffee shops, schools, the library and even a little toy store. All within walking distance of the house. We are excited to find our feet again. Instead of putting the poppets into the car they will go into the stroller so we can, well, stroll! 

Olde Fashioned Girl

There is an olde fashioned girl living in me and she L-O-V-E-S lists. She also loves moderne conveniences, but there is just something about list making with a pen and paper that trumps all!

I am easily overwhelmed by tasks and what-not that pop up out of the ordinary. No matter how small. I think this is a symptom of being an olde fashioned girl. If the what-not is part of my not routine it seems magnanimous to me. I find a sort of catharsis in making a list. Lists make my life more manageable. I can see the big picture. Even if the list is 10 feet long,  it is there in black and white. I feel empowered and capable. More like myself and less like I am drowning.

Sometimes if need be, I will borrow other peoples lists. Martha Stewart has daily, weekly, monthly, and seasonal house cleaning lists that I recently printed and had laminated so I could reuse them. They hang in my laundry room. Her crazy abates my crazy, right?!

I make lists about everything. Things I would like to do as well as what needs to be done. Places I would like to go, goals, dreams and aspirations. There is a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment as I cross items off the list, be it getting bananas, more time for myself or finishing the vacuuming. The latter is done with Isla visible ;). And if I get something done that was not previously on the list, I will add it and then unabashedly cross it off!

There have been times when I felt inept. Beating myself up and wondering what I was doing with my life only to see my many achievements staring back at me from my Dream Board or from a list I wrote 12 months ago. In these moments I feel bolstered and encouraged. Having a concrete record of feats to remind myself, when I cannot see the forest for the trees, is one of the ways I love lists best.

Words to Laugh By...

I am packing up a storm today, and am a little overwhelmed by how little headway it seems that I have made. Boo.

So I thought I would share some of the things that get said around the house that make my day a little brighter!

Jack: (heartily enjoying his lunch) "whack-a -roo-nee. I can say that, right? It means 'I am eating GREAT food' in French!"

Isla: (sneezing, spitting all over Daddy's phone and the dog) "Mommy, I blessed all over Velma."

These kids make me laugh so hard!

I would love to hear what the special people in your life say to make you giggle, and I could use the break from packing!

V is for Velma

As I mentioned in an earlier post (The Birthday Box) Isla got Jack a puppy for his birthday. We already have a Chihuahua, but he is much too crotchety and fragile to play with the knee-highs. Tiny Toby has also become somewhat of a recluse recently and we were hoping that a new puppy would ease him out of his funk. Overjoyed at the thought of a new puppy, sharing her made perfect sense to the kids and needed no further explanation. Before she even arrived we fawned over photos and named her. Now I did ask for suggestions, but Jack wanted to call her after a close family friend, then after this friends dog, and Isla just wanted to name the puppy Isla. I let them know the new puppy was called "Velma".

Mike and I were originally leaning toward the notion of a large dog, after all we would now have the space. But we had also always wanted a Brussels Griffon and when we came across Velma online the decision seemed to make itself.

Note to self for future reference: when packing up and moving house it is not the best time to get a new dog. Nor when planning a birthday party. And what is the point of celebrating not having anymore children in diapers when there is now a monkey-faced creature pissing and crapping all over the house? At least it is no longer officially my house, but still. Ugh. When we first got Toby he WAS the baby. We ate, slept and drank all things puppy. We were newlyweds with oodles of time and patience. I tend to be deficient in those areas at present, when I am pretty sure everything smells like poop.

We are now kennel training her.  And she is allowed to roam the kitchen freely, but no further. These two things have made huge headway for both my sanity and her survival. And watching the kids with Miss Velma warms my heart...and there are still two more weeks to work on house breaking here. So I guess she can stay.

Baby Mommas

There are always been those BIG moments in life when one worries about making new friends. For example changing schools or, ahem, moving.  

Making new friends is something I have taken for granted in the past. Always being in one form of institution or another, the same people day after day, has its advantages. In retrospect school is sort of a give in the friend-making department. Thrust amongst a thousand peers for years one is bound to find at least one like-minded individual. Extra-curricular activities from K-12 are the proverbial friend-making icing, being a concentrated pool of similarities and shared interest.

After graduating from University and moving out of the city where I grew up I found myself, for the first time, with no real friend generating systems. I had to pursue friend-making. It was hard. There was more baggage. Ugh. But then something miraculous happened. I pushed out a baby!!!

Having children have afforded me that coveted "in". Babies are like an institution in and of themselves.  I find spending hours on playgrounds and in playdates fosters discussion and openness with my new peers. Suddenly making friends seemed easy again. We swapped poop stories and labour tales, shared laughter and tears. The walls came down and I have become friends with some incredible women. Women whom I will miss dearly, but are the special kind of friends that no time nor distance seems to pass between.

I am banking on Jack and Isla to get me through the Mommy-door in Rossland! They really are great little icebreakers and the kids are still at that invaluable age when my friends children are their best friends as well.  I know this luxury will end one day soon when Jack and Isla begin making their own friends, but by then I should be well imbibed in Rossland mommy-culture!

My Tiny Rod Stewart

Guests were coming. I was vacuuming. The kids were sleeping...or so I thought. When I shut the vacuum off however I heard the unmistakable sound of the electric toothbrush buzzing upstairs. I knew immediately who was awake. Isla.

Sugar and spice and everything nice. Heavy on the spice. Head strong and independent, brilliant and beautiful, adventurous and funny. Thus, even a briefly unsupervised Isla, can have unpredictable results. The short list: removing her diaper and its contents, consuming toothpaste in the guest room, drinking a latte, reformatting the computer, covering herself in various creams, lotions, chapsticks and lipgloss. It happens in an instant and this time was no different.

I thought I'd better get up there before she got into anything. I could hear her happily sing-songing to herself. I took the stairs two at a time. "Whatcha doin' Bean?". As she placed the toothbrush on the vanity and I scanned the bathroom for damage what I noticed took my breath. The toothbrush had been her second adventure. Earlier I had used my shears to snip a thread on a cushion when the kids first went down. Obviously I had left them out.  A large disembodied clump of hair lay on the floor. Grabbing her head I instinctively began to search the back for the missing lengths. It was all there. I took her beautiful face in my hands and saw the haircut had happened up top Friar Tuck style. She was all business in the front now. Past the point of "mullet", I learned when you can see scalp the correct term is actually "skullet".

Four months later I cannot believe how long it has taken for her hair to grow back. Currently my 2 year old daughter looks like a tiny Rod Stewart. Especially in the morning. Especially after a restless, sweaty nights sleep! If not for her remarkable dexterity things could have been worse. I mean she is lucky to still have both eyes and the top of her scalp.