watch your back, it's wet out there

ok, after this i swear i will cool it with the poladroid, for at least a week anyway. i have to ask though, why is nostalgia so damn appealing?

i took this one tonight. the kids often have baths together now. more nostalgia i suppose. there were many reasons why i knew i wanted more than one child. i think the biggest one was cohen's social tendencies, his need for companionship. there is no question that ada's arrival was one of the greatest things in his life so far. quick to hug and kiss and slow to scorn, they have become fast friends. i laugh at how grown up she seems at this age compared to him. constantly mimicking her older brothers actions, she eats more food from the table and seems to understand so much more around her then i thought was possible.

in the afternoons when we get up from naps we have a cuddle puddle, an awful term to be sure, but i said it once and it has stuck. we all lie in one big pile and cuddle, our eyes half open, still mostly asleep. cohen often lets out big sighs of contentment while ada squeals with delight. it truly is something to behold, and makes up ten fold for the four o'clock crying festival which often proceeds the dinner time all hell breaking loose. the money is in the cuddle puddle, that and the night time bath.

i remember having baths with my brother. it isn't just from photos i remember either, i remember from actual recollection. i loved having a brother, no, i love having a brother. i love everything about it, even the really awful stuff. i love knowing that there is someone else out there who understands, who was there. family vacations, tree fort expeditions, lemonade stands and road trips to relatives for christmas. they were there. my brothers. that is the other reason i had more than one. i just couldn't imagine it any other way.

i hope that ada and cohen grow up close, that i am able to nurture that and see it grow. i know it will have it's challenges as they get older, more stubborn in their ways, but if i do it right it will work and then they will have what i have, the warm blanket of always knowing that no matter they will always have a best friend.

in case the photo wasn't enough, here is some video.

for fun, just add water

that title could sum up so much of our life right now. cohen these days is all about the water, swimming or jumping in it, splashing it all over, or shooting it at others.

the thing that has been standing out for me the most the last couple of months though is my memory, the way it has been flooding back daily. cohen is at the age where things are happening, he is getting it. playing at the playground is all about imitating a monkey, and adventures in the backyard are about worms and beetles and dirt between toes. it reminds me so much of when i was a child. the splashes of paint on paper and flushed cheeks from a full day spent outside. i can't help but feel excitement at being able to relive all of those memories through the new lens of my family. words just aren't enough.

we embarked on a road trip a couple of weeks ago to clearwater. it was a gathering of my brothers, their families, and my mom. we swam in the campground pool everyday, splashed in the lake, sat around the campfire and hiked in the woods. it was wonderful to get away, and for cohen to be with all his cousins. it is always a bittersweet time for me though, as i can't help but mourn the fact that my brother aaron and i don't live closer to each other. growing up aaron and i were very close, we shared a room as kids and were roommates for a few years in our twenties. i think we both thought that one day we would raise our families together, close, like we were, but sometimes life has different plans. work took him north, and i have to admit he is happier there then he was in the city, and so our time together it sporadic, his son jonah, someone i have seen only a handful of times. we talk about it still happening one day, it may or it may not, but i like to think about it, jonah and cohen playing hockey in the lane. only time will tell, for now though i cherish the little time that we do have.

i won't bore you more with talk of the trip, instead here are some pictures. for the rest of them go here

cohen and jonah practicing for that game they will one day play in the lane

everyone but ada and i

some other random favourites

where we have been

the other day when i was trying to decide what to write for cohen's birthday i felt compelled to go back and look at what i wrote last year. it was then that i came upon this. i didn't remember writing it, but i suppose i did, and i liked what it said. i decided then that i would do the same post this year, the pictures that is, only when i had a minute to go through them all. the next day laisha posted jonah's birthday pictures, and referenced the same blog post of mine from last year, and i had to laugh. i guess it is true about great minds and thinking. it seems like a good tradition though, to lay it all out and have a look at where we've been and maybe to think about where we are headed.

there weren't as many photos to choose from this year, in fact some months were pretty slim pickins, so it won't be all toothy grins and clean faces, but then i guess that is closer to life anyway. here it is, cohen's year in review.

june

july

august

september

october

november

december

january

february

march

april

may

today, my two year old boy!

we came, we saw, we ate chocolate cake

i wanted to start this entry by telling you about the birthday parties my mom used to throw for me outside on our sun deck every year. i knew that words probably wouldn't be able to do it justice, and so i was going to start with a picture of me somewhere around ten with sun drenched skin and a pale blue halter dress sitting on rattan furniture, surrounded by friends and beautiful pots of flowers, eating hot dogs and drinking chocolate milk, but i couldn't find the picture, and so it turns out my words will have to be enough. what i wanted was for the photo to show you just how wonderful it was, how large a part of my childhood those parties played. my birthday is in august and i don't remember a year that it wasn't sunny for the party, maybe my mom remembers it different, but as a child my memories are nothing but fond. it was almost always the same group of friends that would come, as the years carried on our interests would change from my little pony to lego and then to music or boys, but one thing always stayed the same, us sitting outside eating hot dogs and laughing. this is what i always imagined it would be like when i had kids one day, sundecks filled with flowers and sun drenched skin, hotdogs and laughing. i was lucky enough to have a baby in the summer, my baby who isn't much of a baby anymore, but would i ever have the sun deck, the flowers? you may be tired of me talking about how much this place means to me by now, but it does. it is everything i wanted for us, kids playing hockey in the alley and neighbours that say hi every time they pass. i didn't know life could be like this in the city, we should have done this so much longer ago.

so this year we had a party, and it was outside and it was filled with sun drenched skin, potted flowers (although mine will never be as nice as my moms were, how could they be?) family, and friends that feel like family. we ate cake and splashed in a little pool made out in the shape of a dragon, and we laughed. it was perfect. i wished we owned this house, i wish that i knew that this was the first of many birthdays that will happen right here on this deck, but no matter where we go i hope we always have this, a plot of grass to call our own.

so happy birthday to the pooper! he is sleeping now, all partied out, no doubt dreaming of chocolate cake and water tables. i will leave you with some pictures and of course you know where you can see the rest.

time changes everything

it was four years ago today that we lost maia. the space between then and now seems so vast, it doesn't seem possible that it all fit into four years, and yet it has.

every year at this time i come on here and try to find the right words to express how i feel. every year i feel something different. this year finds me heavy with thoughts of others that are suffering a loss right now, those that are just beginning the journey. four years and two healthy children later i have a different perspective, i wish i could share that with them. i wish i could press a fast forward button and show them that time really does heal, joy really is possible. it probably wouldn't make a difference though, i know back then i wasn't ready to hear that, i wouldn't have believed it. there are no words that someone else can say to make you understand the journey, it is something you simply need to endure so that one day you can come out the other side healed, changed, but better somehow. more aware.

i am also thinking about ada, about how she fills a place in our family that seemed empty. i was always aware that if she turned out to be a boy i would go on feeling as though a part of my life was lost forever when we lost maia. i would have been just as pleased with a boy, but it wouldn't have been the same. i don't know what life will hold for me, mothering a daughter, but i feel so grateful that i get to find out instead of always wondering. ada came into our lives and brought with her the last bit of light that we needed to feel the warmth on our faces again. i am so thankful for all that we have been given so far in this life, it is a good one and i wouldn't change it for the world.

it takes two and it used to take only one

it was sometime around ten o'clock last saturday night that nicole called to me from the other side of the campsite, "come check this out". naturally i got up and made the trek to where she was. it was there, out in the open, that she pointed up at the giant trees that towered above us, a mesmerizing glow emanating from the sky causing a silhouette of the forest to stand out. it was the time between dusk and dark when everything is a strange shade of blue and the air seems quiet and still. magical. "isn't it amazing?" she asked, and it was, only i couldn't tell you why. it just was. i thought for a moment about going back to the tent and grabbing my camera, coming back and perching it on a stump for stability in the low light and trying to capture the moment, but i didn't. i didn't because i knew without even trying that it could never be done. some things can never be captured for later. somethings lose too much in translation to make it worth while. so we stood side by side in the moment and stared up at the sky, awestruck with the beauty before us.


this past year i have taken more than a thousand pictures of cohen, some of which i have shared here, while others sit on our server preserved for the future. i know this is a little ridiculous and a hard challenge to live up to if there are any more children in our future, but i did it because it was what i needed to do. to preserve. to remember. or at least to try. looking back now, (and even in the moment i think i knew) i realize that pictures will never tell the whole story though, just like the words of this blog, they are doomed to fail. don't get me wrong, i am grateful for them and glad they exist, but as the year came to a close i realized that those moments have come and gone, they only live in my head now and even that can't be entirely trusted. it isn't a new revelation, or even a particularly interesting one really, but when you have children it is different, sadder somehow, this passing of time.

i had intended to come here and tell you what this year has meant to me, the long afternoons outside in the sun, or mornings spent lounging in bed playing games, the first smiles and then laughter, urges towards mobility followed far too quickly by walking, about how full my heart feels when i look over every morning and see him sitting there in his crib waiting, a toothy grin filling his face, "mama" sputtering from his lips, arms up in anticipation. there are a thousand moments like this, maybe more, each one of them unique and perfect and mine. but telling them would never work, just like the trees at dusk, they can't be translated. i won't even try. instead i will just say that i am thankful, so very thankful for the abundance of joy i am given everyday. i smile to think of the millions of moments that are out there lurking, waiting for us to arrive. i can't wait!

a photographic year in review
june

july

august

september

october

november

december

january

february

march

april

may

one year



oh, and i did end up getting the obligatory birthday cake shot! of course it was when we were back home and it was leftover cake, but that still counts...right?

sleeping beauty trips me with a frown

i am in a rut.

maybe it is a funk, i am undecided about the difference.

it is a case of bananas and thinking. that is, the more i tell myself to not think about bananas, the more time i spend thinking about them. only in this case it isn't really bananas that are in question, it is going back to work. so to tell you that i haven't been thinking about it is a lie, a dirty shameful lie, because it is almost all i have been thinking about. everyday we go out, to the park, to the pool, to the library, just for a walk, and all i can think about is that soon it will be over. it is crazy talk i know, nothing is really ending. there may be less time, but the time itself will stay the same, it may even be sweeter. still, it is the less that has me blue.

when i was in my first year of university i went through a much too long stage where i was sleeping 16-17 hours a night. at first i didn't give it much thought, which looking back now i think it is a little strange, but after a couple of months and several dozen missed lectures, i started to suspect that something was amiss. the dr. confirmed that in fact this was not normal and suggested that it was my bodies way of coping with the stress of change. he kindly told me that he could have me withdrawn from a class or two without punishment if i thought it would help, but i wasn't ready for such drastic measures and thanked him anyway. instead, i forced myself up at a normal time everyday, and despite my brains best efforts, i exercised a little everyday to keep me awake. slowly things started to get better and although i didn't do great academically that first semester i didn't fail anything either. so that is that, some people eat ice cream, and others stay up all night unable to sleep, but me? well i go to bed at 6pm and sleep right on through until noon, usually waking up with a sleep hangover and a thick fog around me. it is in my dreams that i find refuge, something about checking out i think.

all this to say that lately i have been sleeping. a lot. as much as cohen almost, which is much more than a grown woman should be. morning naps, afternoon naps and early evenings, and yes, when we wake i do make us leave the house and "do something", but the sleep always seems follows me. my spirit is having trouble getting roused it seems, which once again brings us back to bananas.

i have much to update about cohen, happy, fun, exciting things. i will take pictures tomorrow and i promise no more bananas.

and if you look, you look through me

this sunday is maia’s birthday. i say it matter of fact like that because i am not sure how else to say it. i wish i knew the words large enough to convey the breadth of emotion that this time of year brings, but i am not sure they exist.

her first birthday was a tough one, the pain still incredibly real and sadness only a stones throw away. i spent it alone that year, outside in the sun. marko didn’t want to go out, staying in bed was his wish, and so it was. then last year we decided last minute to rent a car and spend the day in steveston with our new camera. cohen was there in my belly kicking at the sun that afternoon and the knowledge of him made the day brighter, easier somehow. this year he is here and he is healthy, and he has brought back a joy into our lives that we had forgotten. the pain isn’t as deep anymore. cohen didn’t replace her, he didn’t make us forget, he just reminded us that it is possible to be happy, that it is possible to have things work out in the end.

i don’t often talk about maia here or my experience with grief, opting instead to keep most of that time locked away in a private place. i sometimes wonder if it is because I am afraid of what others will think, that they might trivialize it or judge me for needing to speak, and sometimes i think it is because i don’t want to make others uncomfortable. truthfully though, i suspect it is just too private a thing to put into words, too close to the heart to make sense to anyone other than me.

i wrote the following journal entry in december of 2004, eight months after maia was born. it was the beginning of what turned out to be the hardest month of my life. i found it while looking through the past tonight and i thought i would share it, i don’t know why, maybe just as a way of saying what i feel without having to find new words.

"i don't know if it is the wet west coast weather we are having, but i am sure singing the blues tonight. i was trying to figure out just what it is, to pinpoint the exact problem so as to work out some sort of solution and i have to tell you it's tough. i have said it before but it's worth repeating, i used to believe that grief was a thing that came to you in a tangible form. like when my grandma died i was sad that she died and it was a very palpable sadness, i was aware of it's origins and most of the time i could continue on, it was only in the moments that i thought of her in which i felt sad. she was old, i knew that she would die one day. but when someone really close to you dies tragically, the grief is nothing like the grandma grief. this other grief becomes you, without you even acknowledging it.

do i think about maia every five minutes? no i guess i don't, or maybe i do and don't realize it, but my life has become this enormous void. this emptiness is all pervasive. i can be sitting reading a funny book and just start crying, and when marko says why? i sputter out; i don't know i am just so sad. i am so sad i don't even remember what it was like to not be sad. i am so sad that even in the happy moments it is lurking behind the smile. i have become one of those people who are constantly asked, are you alright, because this hole inside me is visible to others. it prevents me from moving ahead. some days i think the only thing that will fill the hole is another baby. to have an outcome that contradicts the first. but what if, like so many other things, it turns out i am wrong? don't get me wrong, it has gotten better. i guess the difference is that before, months ago when this was all still new, i thought when people said it gets better, they meant it would go away, well not go away but that somehow i could salvage a piece of my old life out of the rubble. but the truth is it gets better because you grow accustomed to the idea of the loss, you absorb it, digest it and continue. but it sits inside of you and affects everything you do.

i guess tonight i am just feeling particularly affected. i just wish more than anything i could go back to the way things were. as the year comes to a close i find myself asking...can i give it back? i would give just about anything to have you say yes, on nights like tonight i would even give back the memory of her."

i now know that i wouldn’t give back the memory. it is still one of my most prized possessions. a day that came and changed me forever, in a million different ways that could never accurately be named.

she was born on earth day and every year i have managed to celebrate her birth outside. this year, after much fence sitting (and weather forecast watching), we have decided to take cohen camping overnight to a local provincial campground. i know it sounds crazy (and cold), but i couldn’t think of a better way to remember my daughter, the first baby i ever knew, then by sitting under a tree looking up at the sky.

looking for love in all the wrong places

i have been thinking a lot lately about traditions. my family would likely attest to the fact that i quite like them, the consistency, the ownership of something that is completely unique to us as a family. growing up i didn't have very many of them, but i can forgive that in my parents, it takes forethought and a desire to do it. maybe my mom did have it, i am not sure, but when i think back on that time i can only think of a couple.

as a family we ate quite healthy and junk food was frowned upon. as a result even the slightest of junk food was considered a treat. white sesame toast with peanut butter was to die for and chocolate milk was almost unheard of. this is a preface to one of the most memorable traditions which was that every easter my brothers and i were each given a box of sugary cereal. i remember hotly anticipating this event and waking up excited and ready for the unveiling of the cereal. if my mom had been paying attention, then she got us each the right one, the one we would have chosen. when she wasn't on her game she would give aaron one i wanted, and jealousy would ensue. that didn't happen very often though. i always thought it was funny that we all had friends that ate this type of cereal almost everyday and yet for us, it was like winning the lottery. aaron would eat his right away, if memory serves me correct, sometimes in one sitting (much like his response to halloween), but i tended to savour it, stretch it out and make it last.

there were others, the opening of one gift on christmas eve (although it was always the lame duck gift, as we didn't get to chose which one), saving the wishbone from the turkey at christmas to crack for luck later, and my birthday parties which always took place on our sundeck amongst my mom's brightly coloured summer blooms. now don't get me wrong, i am glad to have had some, but really these were rather mundane in the tradition department (well except the cereal, i quite like that one), so now that i am here in cohen's first year of life i find myself wondering what traditions we will create as a family.

one of the first ones we have decided upon involves his birthday. since it is in june, a month which typically brings alright weather to this part of the world, we have decided that we will make it a tradition to go camping on the weekend closest to the day. in the early years it will be car camping probably close to home, but i would like to think that as he gets older the trips could get more adventurous, more rugged and back country, perhaps with a camping gear gift given each year, so that one day he has enough good gear to carry the tradition on himself. i love to camp, and always have, i would like to pass that on to him, and i couldn't think of a better way to start.

so my question is, what traditions do you remember fondly as a child (and be prepared, i might steal them), or better yet, what traditions are you going to create for your family?