Honestly?!

There is nothing more moving than the glaring honesty of a child. It is not filtered, or manicured, manufactured or checked. It is akin to verbal diarrhea. The brain sends an impulse and the mouth lays it out for all to hear.

A few years ago I was in the grocery store with Jack. When we got to the till I confess I let some air escape, from my behind. The store was very busy (read loud) and in my defence I was probably pregnant. Anyhoo, no one heard. Except for an arse high Jack. With his new found language skills he declared, "Mommy fart. Mommy fart." to the cashier/anyone within earshot, over and over with increasing persistence as I attempted to ignore him and get the heck out of there. Awesome.

When one of my children says to another, "you talk funny" or refers to the neighbour as "the grumpy man who lives next door" I am mortified more often than not. Sometimes it is hard to remember they are not judging, but stating what they perceive to be fact, and I receive the comment coloured by my own experience and/or embarrassment. They are not saying these things to be mean. The neighbour next door looks like a grumpy character from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but also like Santa, so I was able to suggest as much - and as everyone knows Santa is never grumpy. I told them stories about when they mispronounced words because they too were little once and learning. Yet, despite knowing this, it still stings when a two year old makes a comment about my spotty face.

We bring them books, teach them songs, play stacking and sorting games all geared towards differentiation and separation and then we are shocked when they bring their astute observations into the real world. Because you cannot un-ring a bell, and words can hurt, especially when they come out of an innocent face. But we are all different. My children adore being told they are special and unique, so I need to seize the opportunity when they notice that others are different from themselves. To help them acknowledge and appreciate the difference rather than fear and judge. If I wait until they are in the schoolyard it will be too late. Again I am reminded of the steep learning curve that is teaching empathy without loosing individuality.

All this being said, I could have a million dinner guests singing glowing praise for my fare, but it will never mean as much as when Jack starts in about how amazing my cooking is because he is incapable of insincerity.  This morning as I was pulling my hair back, Isla announced as if she could no longer contain herself, "Mommy, you are soooooo beautiful!".  I have never ben more flattered.

Thursday Throwback

After meeting some pretty incredible women here in Rossland due entirely to having two wonderful poppets, I thought I would re post this article from June. I wrote it with my heart open, and expectation high, a few weeks before the actual move itself. 

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!

Wordless Wednesday - Dream House

8 Minutes

Saturday morning. The imminent trip to the Pumpkin Patch looms in the near future.

8:00am: Kids have been up for an hour (inherently I have been as well!)

8:30am: Dogs have been fed, watered and relieved.

8:50am: Kids have been fed, watered, dressed and mostly brushed.

8:55am: I duck away to Twitter quickly about the name, location and other pertinent info regarding the day trip we have planned.

9:00am: The ladies we will be carpooling with arrive on our doorstep with wonderfully appreciated punctuality.

9:01am: I can hear my husband offering coffee to our guests as he returns inside from puttering somewhere outside.

9:02am: Michael exclaims, "what is that smell?".  I logout and head downstairs.

9:03am: I round the corner into the hallway to discover on my right; my son stripped naked in the washroom, and on my left; that Velma has shat all over the living room rug. Two things are apparent:
1. Clothing hinders ones progress on the pot and 2. Velma still is not feeling well.

Eight minutes. It took a grand total of eight minutes for the household to self-destruct. I hear myself saying, "Remember 10 minutes ago when we were all ready to go?!" I get the sinking feeling our ride-mates are regretting their timeliness.

The wonderful thing about beginning your day on a low note is that there is no where to go but up!

Homage Monday - Trish Dyer

Trish Dyer - Mountain Nugget Chocolate Company

London Fog

Trish Dyer is a Chocolatier. The sheer declaration that you are a chocolatier is weighty one.  Upon hearing this fantastical word my heart quickens and the corners of my mouth turn upward. I must admit I feel a bit like I am in a fairy tale to say I know a real Chocolatier! It is no small feat to harness the magic and potential that chocolate carries within itself - for many cannot. As an artist Trish boasts the uncanny ability to take a good thing and make it better. To take a dark shapeless mass and transform it into an exquisite, whimsical delicacy.  

Starry Night

Here in the picturesque Monashee Mountains Trish is inspired to create. She is rooted here and draws from the land where she herself has grown. Among the local organic ingredients she uses are Rossland garlic, Oso Negro Coffee roasted in Nelson,  and honey from the Creston valley. Trish is a local artist who actively supports other local industry. She is an avid gardener who is passionate about real-food and a believer in the roles of the baker,  the butcher,  and the candlestick maker. Her creations are really an extension of her person; lively, exciting, complex, mischievous and fun.
Most recently Les Dames d'Escoffier awarded their prestigious scholarship to Trish in recognition of her work and a fellow blogger and foodie The Well-Tempered Chocolatier sought out the Nugget on a trip to Rossland. 
If you happen through our happy little town the shop is a MUST! And if you are unable to make it to Rossland then you are in luck because Trish is making the rounds, peddling her rich morsels at fairs and festivals around BC. 
Be sure to Follow the Mountain Nugget on Facebook so you don't miss a thing!

Joe

Mountain Nugget Chocolate Company
2076 Columbia Avenue
Rossland, BC
250.362.3338

   

Harvest Moon...

This years Fall Equinox and the Harvest moon happily converged. It really was stunning if you got a chance to see it. I mean, it looked like daylight outside despite the setting of the sun hours before, and it is not going to happen again until 2029.

The leaves here are turning. Bright red, yellow and orange - and I have crocuses blooming in the garden, is that normal?! Anyhoo, it really has put me into an Autumn state of mind. I am presently digging out my fall wreath and tomorrow we are headed to the Spencer Hill Orchard and Gallery in Grand Forks for the Apple Festival to grab some pumpkins and homemade apple juice.  Mmm pumpkin patchy apple juice :)

 

Buying pumpkins now and trying to keep them through the month can be difficult. Last year my friend Jo (who carries the Martha Stewart gene) passed along a super trick, that I am now passing along to you!






Preserving Your Pumpkin:
Fill you kitchen sink (or another deep basin) with cold water. 
Add 1 cup of Bleach
Submerge Pumpkin (or other lovely gourd-licious decoration) fully.
Let soak for 1 hour.
Pumpkin can be resoaked closer to carving time to ensure no mildew or mold!

It worked like gangbusters! The pumpkins I had last year lasted so long I was beginning to wonder if they had cured all the way through. I thought, "Great, I won't have to do this again! I'll just store these and reuse them every year!" But when I started decorating for Christmas in the first week of November (I know, I know, but it is a season people!) I put them outside and a squirrel ate them. Oops. Obviously I am starting from scratch this year, but it is too much fun to skip!

On the Road Again...

For the past ten years my husband and I have shuttled back and forth from the Coast of BC to visit our loved ones in Calgary. From Vancouver, the journey always begins in the wee hours of the morning, travels through several majestic ranges, up and down passes hemmed in by picturesque mountains, then we are finally pushed out into the breathtaking Big Sky Country that is Alberta.

It is a remarkable trip that we have down to an unremarkable science. He drives, we sleep (which is a nice change from "Isla screams").  We drive from full to fumes, sometimes rolling into gas stations just to make the very best time we can. Before kids the trip took around ten hours. After, it could take upwards of twelve. Rossland is smack in the middle, almost a perfect 600km bisector between Vancouver and Calgary. It now,  in theory, takes half as long to get to either end.
















I always envy my dear friend who stops. She stops in Osoyoos and lets the kids play a round at the mini golf. She stops at parks and she lets the kids out to play, completely disregarding how this effects the "time" she is making from point A to point B. As much as I "know" life is about the journey and not the destination somehow I never was able to make the literal jump!  We decided to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

Frank Slide sits at the foot of Turtle Mountain and neither Mike or I had visited the site for the better part of two decades. We left the dogs in the truck and went in with the kids to the lovely new interpretive centre. It was a wonderful digression. We watched documentary films, played with touchable exhibits, read heaps of first hand accounts and relearned about this historic, and preventable tragedy.

90 minutes later we returned to the vehicle ready and eager to get back on the road. Mike opened the door and was met with a terrible stench. Velma had unleashed an epic and entirely preventable tragedy of her own. We had left her out of her kennel. It was all over Isla's car seat and everything surrounding it. Not unlike most trips into the city we were returning at capacity and the kennel needed to be collapsed to fit Santa's booty into the wayback. That was a mistake. The mess only seemed to have hit porous, absorbant surfaces. Ughhh. I think we used an entire box of baby wipes to little or no avail. We lamented the remaining hours in the reek. As it turns out, nothing gets rid of that new car smell like a dog with diarrhea.