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By doriluthy, May 29, 2011 12:00 am

We just got back from our annual camping trip to the West Coast of Vancouver Island- our dear Tofino! Well, actually, it’s Green Point, Long Beach and Uke that we adore the most, as we find Tofino is turning into a busy and predictable (although still charming) surf and tourist town. But alas, we will continue to call this destination by it’s loveliest name: Tofino… Doesn’t it just roll off the tongue in such a nice way? Tofinooooo…

Anyway, since I find myself 6 months pregnant (again!) while setting up camp this year, and as the official Mama, I decided it was fully within my rights to maximize for comfort this year. Why should I tolerate nights of bad sleep for the sake of Camping? And who said camping had to be uncomfortable?? Why have I believed this for years? SO, with a belly full of baby, I came armed to create ‘The World’s Comfiest Tent’:

Um, yeah, let’s call that a success… I’ll break it down for you: a firmly inflated double height baffled air mattress (heaven!), flannel sheets, copious layers of warm quilts, sunshine (gracious me!) and a beautiful boy gazing at his boots… It was really hard getting out of bed every morning given these conditions and considering that Mr. Finn is a top-notch snuggler. That bed was absolutely key to my coming away from this week feeling like I am actually RELAXED, and not in more discomfort, or more tired, or… well, it’s a little tricky being pregnant while camping.

Backing up a few weeks in this pregnancy, I had spent the earlier part of this month recovering from a separated pelvis- officially the most painful experience of my life, and something I hope to avoid the rest of this pregnancy (and for the rest of my life? ahem). It was only after a couple chiro treatments and several days of bed rest (thank goodness for Dad’s who are available at the drop of a hat!!! xoxoxox!) that I was back on my feet. So suffice to say I didn’t want to risk my body for the fun of a few nights in a tent, even if it is the most beautiful place on earth.

A lovely lovely trip, different from any other, and possibly my favourite so far. And as camping seems to go for me- food always tastes better, the sunshine is more appreciated, the rain is more tolerated, the company of friends is so delightful and ‘just right’… and for the first time ever, the nights were cozy and comfortable. Who knew?

Oh, and Finn wanted you all to know- HE LOVES THE BEACH! Sticks, sand, shovels, water, wind, birds, weird seaweed, happy people… what’s not to love?

So for all of you out there sitting on the fence about camping- take it into your own hands! Bring the hot water bottles, favourite pillows, warmest slippers, and thermos of chamomile tea. Let’s name our experience COMFORT- instead of accepting hand-me-down foamies and slippery sleeping bags that drag down the good name of camping.

Now, why did this never occur to me before? And this leads to further wondering- what other beliefs am I still hauling around with me these days that aren’t my own? hmmm… I might need to do more camping this summer.

Happy comforts, dear readers!

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By doriluthy, October 12, 2010 10:54 pm

This week’s bread is a Greek Wholewheat Loaf. I seriously wish I was the original Greek woman who dreamed this loaf into being (bread recipes come from dreams, right?). This loaf? A dark, giant mound, very moist, tight crumble, and a semi-thick soft crust. Last night we had thin slices, toasted and slathered in butter, to go with a 12 bean & bacon soup, to warm our slightly sick bodies… While slurping our dinner, we parents marveled to each other how our little baby will soon be shedding his infant cloak, and before our very eyes he is entering toddlerdom with great curiosity and enthusiasm. A pause in time to see this, I spent the past 24 hours feeling so wistful to see him grow out of his infancy. I just loved him so much as a wee one, precious darling baby to snuggle and lie in bed and nap and touch fingers and coo and dress in fun little clothes… Don’t get me wrong, I’m just as excited for all the upcoming stages. But this watching my child growing up- it feels like I can’t make my stitches fast enough, to gather together the pieces of this life that is flying by us. Wistful because I won’t be able to remember the details, memories fade, becoming blurrier and softer in the mind as time goes flying by- and I know that I will long to remember the feeling of his arms grabbing around my neck or the smell behind his ear, the sound of his soft sad cries that sometimes come in the middle of the night. Or the way he does his little naked dance by the bathtub at night, anxious to get into the water- his little chubby butt always makes me laugh.

The loaf came out of the oven on Monday evening, warm and round like a great pregnant belly. I cut a thick piece tonight (toasted with cream cheese, cinnamon, and honey- oh heaven) to eat in bed with my tea and writing. Inspired by my wistful state and the circumference of the bread, I’ve been straining my memories back to my pregnant belly- only a year ago, can I believe it? Sensations and recollection of a rolling kicking child inside are faint, but are there ‘just enough’ to bring a smile. What an old woman I feel like today, on the other side of the gate of birthing and knowing the person that was the mysterious rolling kicking child- and how young I seemed in those days leading up to his birth, anticipating the baby, and ignorant to the bliss and sorrow that would come wandering into the house on that glorious morning of his birth.

Today I am the old woman with a wet face, as today was a day of many tears that can age the soul by 175 years. Some of the tears are too big to talk about, just flowing with the realization that life has gone by and both good and bad has crossed my path, leaving me to reconcile the best I can. And some of the tears are too sad to talk about- I mean, words absolutely fail when hearing of an unexpected Death, and the shock can bring such physical sorrow, sweeping over the body in waves of anguish… Needing to cling to something full of life, I sat and held tight to Finn with tears rolling down my cheeks- he was curious and laughed as he patted my wet face. Oh man… And of course, some of today’s tears are too funny to talk about. Sometimes that’s the way life is, all in one day.

But now for a little sleep for this old woman. There is more bread to be had tomorrow.

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By doriluthy, September 24, 2010 12:48 am

Hi, can anyone tell me what happened to August and most of September?

It’s been a wacky wacky few weeks here in mama-papa-finn world, lots of late nights and new growth. It’s past midnight and I really should be in bed, but I desperately wanted to share a little window of life with those who might read this blog… I promise to write more soon, and fill you all in on the magical things that comes with being almost 11months old- including! (but not limited to) signing a few words; grunting a few ‘words’; crawling, climbing, almost walking, clapping and dancing; instigating silliness and play; sometimes sleeping through the night but generally not; patiently watching mama make a poor choice and then patiently watching as she works her way back out of that decision (yuk yuk); wondering where daddy might be (oh long nights of work); pushing mama to her absolute physical limits at the end of the night (see previous note); and a little charm to woo the ladies (for good measure). We had another photo shoot with our dear friend Wendy D last week- a little sample of the hundred+ pics she took of this handsome dude. (friggin adorable, right?)

Finn Photo by Wendy D

We’re taking an infant sign language class right now, and it totally rocks my world when he now asks for the kinds of things he wants in his day (grapes or peach?)… like, really cool. Yo. Getting out of the tub at night-Finn: I’m all done, now I want a book to read. Me: whaaaa? You are too awesome for words! Seriously, I will sign “AWESOME!”.

Here’s a little bit of the ‘nearly walking’ in action. I would really like to know where he figured out how to do this. Freaks me out!

Briefly- About me? I’m really tired, and with D-man working really long days (no doubt he’d mention tired at the top of his list too), this nearly single parenting gig is really an eye opening experience. I had a couple weeks of taking on way more than I was capable of, but have now gotten a small grip on that, and I’m hoping to keep the clear head for a little longer. Long enough to gather a bit more energy and resources so that I might go spend a couple hours a week in the place that I haven’t been in months… let’s see, what was it called? Oh yeah- MY STUDIO!

Reminds me of a Kasey Chamber’s lyric: “I asked the rain to hold off, and so far it looks just fine.”

Yeah, the past few weeks have felt like…well, let me draw a visual. It’s like flying in an airplane, rise up and up, and the clouds come in, I can’t make out the terrain below- mountains? rivers? roads? farms? city?… where are the clues I need to place myself in this world?  Slowly, unexpectedly, the clouds part- just enough!- to see where things lie. My map has been obscured by clouds, and I’ve been just wandering along, operating on auto-pilot without asking “where am I, and HOW did I get here?” But that said, it feels like I’ve had a few glimpses this week, and I’m gathering the strength to start to ask those questions, hopefully with the grace and compassion that they deserve.

30 second check in- what do I need in this very moment? Sleep (and that only took 4 seconds).

Goodnight ya’ll.

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By doriluthy, July 29, 2010 12:26 am

For those of you craving a pic of bambino. You know who you are.

Here’s Finn at Long Beach, Tofino, chillin on the beach in his ocean water bath.

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By doriluthy, July 28, 2010 11:39 pm

Some days I don’t have time to take a shower. Some days I don’t go to the bathroom for hours, even if I REALLY have to go. Some days I don’t drink enough water. Some days I eat too much food. Some days I think I’m boring. Some days I worry that Finn’s been in the stroller or car seat too long. Some days I wonder if he’ll ever want to crawl. Some days I laugh and laugh. Some days I cry and cry.

But every day? I marvel at the perfection of this little life and the unfolding of this beautiful creature that occupies almost every moment of my time. He really is perfect, doing things just as he is meant to be doing them. Isn’t that a lesson? Each step, even the bumpy uncertain ones, are just right. They are all so critical to making up the story that is his life; the learning, developing, exploring, inquiring, imaginative, funny little man that he is already, and will continue to become more of. He’s already completely himself.

As of Friday, Finn will have been outside just as long as he was inside. 9 months in, 9 months out, and just so confidently himself regardless of time.

In the past month we’ve been to Tofino and back, a week of Finn’s first camping, beach strolling, sand eating, and ocean dipping- and he did OH SO WELL. We returned home to him deciding it was time to learn to roll, like for real. (He’d been taking his time with the mobility stuff.) He’s now flopping back and forth, and figured out that he can propel himself towards things by rolling- I see crawling in our future. (EGADS!) Then we headed off to Galiano Island with some good friends and their kids, and again he did OH SO WELL. He came away from that weekend having discovered how to clap, wave and high five!, and he practices these new skills a lot. It’s like he discovered his hands could do OTHER things besides smooshing food and pulling on hair. And he has also discovered that he is a boy, and that part of his body provokes a great deal of curious exploration. Ah, to be a mother of a boy.

I’m doing alright here, journeying along side the kid, attempting to be tuned into him and me as much as possible. I see his little developments so much easier than my own, though. His are marked in bold exchanges with the world and seem so BIG when he begins to do something he’d never done before. “Look at him point to all the eyes of the animals in the book!” My developments are much more subtle and shifting, internal and mysterious (Look, I didn’t eat any chocolate for 3 days!). Honestly, I feel a bit foggy most days, not quite sure where I’m at. I think I’ve reached some level of peace with the breastfeeding struggle, although some days I encounter challenges that feel like I’ve got to start over again. Mostly it has to do with the semantics of feeding our babies and how unforgiving the messages of ‘breast is best’ can be to someone who was unable to give the ‘best’. A workshop on ‘Weaning and going back to work’ felt like an unfortunate demonizing and stigmatization of formula feeding (don’t we all already KNOW why breastfeeding is the best option?) and I watched as a couple other formula feeding mums slipped quietly out of the room during the hour-long discussion. I stayed and did my smiley face, although the sadness hung around with me for a few days after… That’s how it goes these days. I hang out with a good group of happy babies and their supportive and kind mums, who are like me and trying their best to be tuned into their children and give their babies the best chance in this world. It seems we all struggle with something in motherhood, and the reality of this helps to ease some of my own anguish and guilt.

I am feeling a little lost, to be sure. Motherhood is great and full and charming, but it is also a fog of activity all day long that doesn’t leave much time for reflection and consideration…

I just realized that every time I feel like I want to make a statement of honesty about the struggle, I feel compelled to back it with a statement of how much I’m loving this job. That is possibly one of the most curious things about this journey of motherhood; it can be so full of joy, laughter, successes, and marveling, and yet that fullness always seems a little shadowed by grief, anxiety, guilt, and loss.

I am reminded of the unlikely marriage of Sorrow and Compassion. Two drastically different and powerful characters, drawn together through a mutual understanding of human nature. Wandering through life hand in hand, giving back and forth to one another the gifts that each carries. We are all witness to this marriage every day; but on those days when I can remember that they contribute equally to the path of life, it somehow eases the struggle… Compassion is the one to follow Sorrow. The quiet partner, soft and gracious. Can you hear the gentle voice of Compassion?

I’m trying..