It's a little weird, but I like it

Unknown prairie flower (ideas, anyone?)

Murals cover buildings all over Moose Jaw

So many buildings have these amazing old signs

Grain elevator in rural Coderre

"The cheapest cash store in the new province" (dating this sign around 1905)

The river, looking towards the railyards and grain elevator

The magpies and geese sing their songs, the train whistle echoes across the riverbank, and the grain elevator towers over all. Oh yes, and the Snowbirds zip overhead regularly, making aerial acrobatics seem like an everyday occurrence.

Just a few things that make our life in Saskatchewan SO different from the Maritimes:

A couple of weeks ago, we had a blizzard. Then three days later it was 28 degrees Celsius. You just never know when to put the mittens away.

Our garden is not in our backyard. We have a patch in the community garden, a big green space along the banks of Thunder Creek and the Moose Jaw River, overlooking the Canadian Pacific railyards on the other side.

The earth is not red, like our home in Prince Edward Island. It is black, sandy soil that even smells different. Can't wait to see what grows well here.

We live on the edge of the city, literally. Out our front window we can see across the highway to the wide open prairie.

We hear and smell the trains all the time. Coming from the Island where trains ceased running in the 1980s I still find it a novelty to hear the trains whistle, especially at night. The bridges in town go over the railyards, which stretch almost as far down the valley as the eye can see.

Grain elevators are some of the tallest buildings in town.

There are a lot of ticks here. Ewwwww. And prairie dogs, except I guess they are technically ground squirrels. Whatever, they are a hoot. Also many, many deer, just hanging out in the parks and fields.

15 Wing Moose Jaw is the home of Canada's air force aerobatic team, the Snowbirds. Since there are so many brilliantly clear days here, these daredevils can often be seen zooming their jets overhead in formation. And I still get goosebumps every time.

At least a couple of times a week I encounter other Atlantic Canadians. It is like we can smell the salt air on each other.

Language quirks:

Hooded sweatshirts are called "bunny hugs." I know, weird.
According to my daughter, Kat, you don't "butt in line," you "BUDGE" in line. I think they are just more polite in Grade 2.
People from Moose Jaw are called Moose Javians. Seriously.

Being Mom

I never thought of myself as mom material.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't really like kids much, even when I was one myself. That might have explained why I wasn't terribly popular. I didn't have the "right stuff" for parenting, like patience, selflessness, moral fortitude, or a strong stomach. I was all about "me," but I guess that is the job of kids, teenagers and twenty-somethings everywhere, to be totally about self. And yet, there are women like my mother or my sister-in-law who had their children young and did a fantastically good job of raising them despite their extreme youth. Being "all about me" was never an option for them in their twenties, as they already had little humans depending on them for life.

I waited a long time to change my mind about the baby concept, but once I did I jumped onboard the train with all engines firing. And what have I learned in the past eight years of Mother's Days? Because when you've got small children there are 365 Mother's Days a year.  Well, you can click on this old post of mine from last year for a little bit of that, Speaking of Babies. It is still one of my favourites, because it helps me remember when my girls were babes.

One little thing I've learned is that I can never capture on film what my eyes see when I look at my children. Sometimes I will be talking with them or just looking at them, and they get a look in their eyes that I so want to capture, so I run for the camera, and snap and snap photos, but somehow they never quite work. Every once in a blue moon it will be successful, and I catch an image of what I see. Sometimes, it's a feeling of pure love emanating from her as she looks at me on the other side of the camera. Those are the keepers.

Kat, then

And now

Ava, then

And now

It makes me realize that what I am seeing is their pure spirit inside that makes them who they are. It is so much easier to see in children, who have not started putting on the masks and acts that we as adults adopt over the years. Their true selves are so much closer to the surface. If you can be truly present and look at them not just to check for eye crusties in the morning or to make sure they have on matching socks, you can really see them, deep inside. Especially as they get older, it is amazing to see them develop their own identities, as hard as it is to imagine them living independently in the world. It gives glimpses of the future.

Looking back through our thousands of photographs taken since the girls were born, I realize the very best ones are those that happened by accident. We have never once had studio portraits taken of the girls, or of us as a family. Somehow it seems having someone they love behind the lens brings out the true personality, and of course the widest array of goofy faces.

So much of mothering is done stumbling along learning as we go. I learned from my mother, from my grandmothers, and so much from dear friends who bravely went ahead and had children before we did. I am quite sure they must have gotten tired of my endless questions, but they were always open and generous and kind and understanding of my profound ignorance. I am also the most fortunate of women to have a supportive equal partner and co-hort in all this parenting craziness.

Our girls have taught me about the important things in this life of ours. Career and money and "stuff" don't come into it at all, to my surprise. They have taught me to slow down, to breathe, to look around me and listen and smell and reach out to what surrounds us, to be open to all. The most simple of things can bring the greatest joy, and every stranger could become a friend if you just smile.

I have learned that I am not as selfish as I once thought. From the moment of their conception, my daughters have taught me many ways of being a better person, a better parent, and I hope a better citizen of the world we live in. The sense of responsibility is huge, to protect them in what is frankly a frightening world at times, and to help them learn all they need to know to be happy, healthy, productive members of the planet. Already they have made a difference, by teaching one person how to put others first, and how to love unconditionally.

This weekend I want to wish a Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers in my life, my own mom and the moms in my large, lovely extended family, and to all of my friends across the country and indeed in other parts of the world who are all doing a damn fine job of this mothering gig. May we all teach our children to be open, loving people who will make the world a better, more peaceful place in the future.

Making a (small) home

This time last year I was browsing the seed catalogues, planning our vegetable garden and berry patch, watching things start to grow in the cold frame. This spring we are still watching the snow fall outdoors, and I am rethinking the whole concept of "garden," not to mention the idea of "home."

Moving from a 2500 square foot century farmhouse on half an acre to a 1000 sq. foot townhouse condo with a back deck and no yard has challenges, not the least of which are mental and emotional hurdles. The stupor brought on by the winter that just won't die is not helping matters. Still, I find it oddly fascinating to figure out how to make the most of our space, how to fit outdoor living footage into the deck and the tiny square of grass that we do have, as well as how to eke out personal space, not to mention personality, out of a cookie cutter condo.

In the farmhouse, we expanded to fit the space. More rooms, lots of nooks and crannies and large open spaces meant we needed lots of stuff to fill it, even stuff we didn't actually need. Before moving across the country, we let a lot of things go in yard sales, selling online and hauling at least 10 trunkloads to donate at the Sally Ann. When we got here, we unpacked only what was really needed and stacked the rest in boxes in the basement, as I wrote about in January. For one thing, we had only signed a six-month lease here, so it seemed silly to unpack just to pack it up again. Over the past few months we have come to realize we don't need or even know what's in those dozens of boxes.

And so, the challenge of living small after years of living large. The crabapple tree, the raspberry and strawberry patches, the big garden and flower beds wrapping around the house are all in the distance now. Container gardening is what comes next.

With less space it becomes easier to get on each other's nerves, especially during these cold months. The girls are used to sharing a room by choice, not by necessity, but they still need their own space sometimes. I've made a point of creating some quiet spaces here, albeit very small spaces, like a chair and lamp in a hallway nook. It just means those in search of a little privacy can find it without having to sequester themselves in the bathroom. Although that does happen a lot, too. We have also had to make each room fill more than one role. Instead of having an office with a door that closes, we have a corner of the kitchen. Rather than having a playroom where only toys live, we have a very messy bedroom. Good storage becomes so necessary, and I finally understand the concept of rotating toys, where you regularly pack up some toys and put them away for a while, swapping them out occasionally. It actually works, cuts down on clutter, and the toys seem much more exciting when they haven't been seen for a while.

Ava's girly space

It is a huge adjustment for all of us to be living in a city. The girls love adventure and are usually game for anything but like all children they thrive on routine and familiarity. There are times when we are all homesick. We struggle to make the girls feel like they have their own space, decorated and arranged the way they want it to be as much as possible.

The logical part of my brain knows that children are raised in cities all over the world, more often in tiny apartments than in big farmhouses. A townhouse would be palatial in comparison. So the only thing to do is to embrace it, to see it as an opportunity for simpler living, less yard work and housecleaning.

Kitchen/dining room/office

When warm weather finally arrives, we've got to figure out how to fit a barbecue, table and chairs AND a deck garden onto our smallish back deck. Or should it be a swing? Or a comfy cushioned bench on which to sit out and have a cool drink? There's not room for everything. I know we can still grow food as long as we have an outside space, so I have started perusing Pinterest for ideas on maximizing growing space and how to make a boring deck into a glorious retreat. Check out my board here for inspiration.

Even the simple act of buying and repotting houseplants goes a long way to making a townhouse a home. Having some green things to look after is good for everyone, and plants are the best way to clean your indoor air in a tightly-sealed newer home. Not a chance of a draft in this place, despite the prairie winds blustering by. I am discovering the joys of succulents, those hardy little funny-looking plants that you absolutely can not kill. Getting a sprouter is on my list as well, so we can try growing some microgreens indoors. It is not just the brain that starts to crave green at this point in the year, but the body craves fresh, local (like local from your windowsill!) green food as well. It is officially a thrill to find Saskatchewan greenhouse-grown tomatoes and cucumbers in the grocery store at last, a sure sign of spring despite the fact that I just heard a snowplough go by.

For years I have blathered (at least to myself, sometimes to others) about living more simply, having less stuff, and focusing on what matters. Now is my chance to see if we can really follow through and come out with a greater appreciation for all that we have.

mysterious succulent

A little bloom inside to focus on (instead of the snow)

The Household Guide and Domestic Cyclopedia

So in case you have not heard, I am being the Ideal Housewife these days. Whatever that means. It is like a quirky social experiment, whereby the girl (okay, woman) who used to scream inside her own head at the prospect of staying at home and keeping house does just that with vigour and enthusiasm.

Maybe not every day, but I try. I make homemade granola, for heaven's sake, and the infamous $49 muffins. As I wrote in this post, I am inspired by my grandmother and strive to find the joy that she found in everyday life.

Lately I find myself turning to an unlikely source for inspiration. A few years ago, a gorgeous old volume of home-keeping appeared in a box of donated books I was sorting at the library. It was pleasantly smelly, as only very old books can be, and pages were falling out, but I simply could not throw it out. Published in Toronto in 1897, The Household Guide and Domestic Cyclopedia was created to help women in more ways than we can imagine, instructing on everything from how to clean nickel plate to making puddings, looking beautiful to writing a proper invitation, homeopathic remedies to comportment, nursing typhoid fever to the dangers of overfeeding children.

At times hilarious, this book is a goldmine of insight into the lives of our foremothers. While I question some of the advice (like how to make a pork and onion poultice for wounds), some words still ring so true. While the authors state that laughter is a great tonic, "giggling" is most definitely not:

There is no outward mark which demonstrates the woman of shallow mind so unmistakeably as that of giggling. There is no sense in the giggle; no benefit to be derived from it. It makes a fool of the person, and renders everyone about uncomfortable.

Well, then, I guess I am in trouble, having a giggle that was once described lovingly by my oldest friend as "machine-gun fire."

 

The interesting fact about this book is that the only part actually written by a woman is the last section, one of recipes and cooking tips. All of the other chapters, all 398 pages of them, are written by two men, who also co-wrote a book on Eugenics, which Wikipedia defines as "a social and political philosophy that tries to influence the way people choose to mate and raise children, with the aim of improving the human species."

Yowza. A little creepy, but anyhow, back to THIS book, our Domestic Cyclopedia. The authors have this to say about the fairer sex:

Woman

The organization of the home depends, for the most part, upon woman. She is the queen of domestic life. The management of the home depends upon her. Her character, her temper, her power of organization, her business management is what brings comfort and happiness to the home.

(I think this is true, since Katherine told me last week that I was Queen Mummy, Boss of the House.)

Some of the more amusing parts of this very amusing book are the sections on personal beauty and care, including tips for "cosmetics and cheerfulness":

Cosmetics are generally good for nothing but the drug business. One merry thought, one kind word, and the smallest contribution to another's happiness, will do more for the complexion than a tableful of cold cream, violet powder or other skin whiteners.

...Young lady, do not deceive yourself. You cannot use cosmetics without the knowledge of your gentleman friends. They will respect you more if you forever abandon the use of such subterfuge. 

Huh. I guess he told us. Abandon the subterfuge, ladies, that lipstick isn't fooling anyone! 

Love this workout for the busy mom...no Lululemon here.

Now let us remember this is all written by MEN. Which makes it especially fun when the instructions for how to develop the chest and bust come up later in the chapter. It is most definitely written by a man, and could be a man of 2013: The best treatment is gentle rubbing. This gentle friction night and morning (oh, in your dreams, buddy boy), five minutes at a time, will generally produce the desired results.  

On the bright side, they are proponents of breastfeeding, and give a truly excellent description of all different varieties of baby poop and what each colour and consistency might mean. Seriously, this is useful information if you have a baby and have NEVER ever in your life seen poop like THAT. This section is appropriately titled "Evacuations of a Child."

On a more serious note, the authors point out that out of 987,000 people who died in 1890, 400,647 of them were under the age of five. In their opinion, "this terrible mortality among children is undoubtedly largely the result of ignorance as regarding the proper care and treatment of sick children."

Never mind whether your little boy or girl stands first on the roll of honor or not. See to it that no honors or rewards are gained at the expense of vigor and health. Never slight the beginnings of a cold. From six to ten drops of turpentine will generally arrest a cold at the beginning...

It was really solid advice up until the turpentine, don't you think? Here are another couple of gems that stand the test of time, and that I just might adopt as my new mantras:

A successful life is nothing more or less for man or for woman than living as well as we know how and doing the very best that we can. 

The Art of Happy Living
Happiness is not an indescribable something always beyond one's grasp, but is in the reach of all, if we but look for it in the common path of life, in the ordinary routine of everyday duty.

More next time on this irresistible volume...

Random therapeutic photography

This morning I am digging deep in my photography bank to provide us all with a little bit of spring for the eyes and for the heart, even while the wind still howls out of doors...

Colour

Ocean

Joy

Peace

Beauty

Beginnings

New

Brilliant

Love

Friendship

Family

 

Simplicity

Humour