the gift of the hard times

Sometimes, the words come readily. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes there's time and quiet and a refreshed spirit. Sometimes there's not. 

But, all of it. It is all a gift.

Sometimes you miss your own family so bad. And friends. And the freedom to cry and share and know that she will understand you whether it's teething or tantrums or late nights or style quandaries or emotional roller coasters. 

And sometimes? You step out of your comfort zone and accept an invitation to a bonfire even though your husband is out of town and you have to be the parent, the extrovert, and yourself. Sometimes, you push the stroller all the way up the hill and join in celebrating a little friend's birthday. And through the laughter and sugar-induced excitement and the freedom of little children, you feel small roots going down and friendships becoming. 

And it is all a gift. 

p.s. I wrote this last week but never shared it, Jared is away again this week but I have my brother visiting. I'll share more from our adventures later this week. Thanks for being here. 

How to Dress: Style Inspiration from the Little Ones for the Big People

1. Always have a great jacket. 

It can be thrown over whatever else you're wearing, especially if it's running errands, and can make the simplest of outfits feel pull together.

2. Cute shoes

Always have a pair of cute shoes to go with your great jacket. The accessories can often make an outfit and don't require a huge closet or budget. Color pop, fashion trends, and seasonal statements are all easily achieved with what you're wearing on your shoes. Think ballet flats, boots, and red heels. 

3. Never underestimate a good hat. 

It can be a blah day, no time for a shower day, or changes in humidity. Choose a hat you like and looks good on you and don't be afraid to wear it! The British do it all the time and look fabulous. 

4. Go for a co-ordinated look. 

Jeans, hoodie, and runners can look super cute, sporty, and practical. For those days when you just need to wear something or you're outdoors or need some more practical clothes. Wear them and wear them on purpose. Throw your hair up in a ponytail, add a splash of color with a headband and go rock the playground/library/grocery store with a spring in your step. 

5. Invest in some quality clothes. 

The initial output may slow you down but if it's a pair of good shoes or nice jeans or good jacket (or glasses in my case, here) and you wear it every day, the price is averaged out and it makes a great buy. For example, I had a pair of jeans that I wore a lot. I wore them till they had holes. Price per wear: pennies. Totally worth the investment. 

6. Mix and match

Don't be afraid to try something new. Play around with combinations in your closet to create new outfits, be inspired by others and then re-create your own version. It doesn't have to be costly or brand name or just like anyone else, it is you and your style. Wear it with confidence. 

7. "Happiest girls are the prettiest." 

Audrey Hepburn said this, she is one of my style inspirations but I appreciate this truth probably more then any outfit she wore. People remember a smile long after they've forgotten what you wore. 

What inspires you?

To the Ocean We Went

I put the girls in their carseats, and we drove, taking full advantage of the rental car for the weekend. Along the winding road, beside the blaze of glory that transforms the trees in autumn in Nova Scotia. One little girl slept, and the other talked. A lot. And asked questions. Mostly why questions. 

I was exhausted and just wanting to be quiet. I stopped the car and took some pictures. The wind blew my hair and made the grass dance. It was beautiful. 

And so is my life. I just miss it sometimes, chasing after perfection. Chasing after the ideal that doesn't exist for anyone. 

Life is busy and full and so very precious. 

We walked all over the beach, picking up shells, drawing in the sand and walking in the water. We ran and we sang at the top of our lungs. We took big gulps of fresh air. I let the breeze blow all the tension away. I let my girls be little and I let myself be their imperfect mum. 

I answered endless questions of why, I danced the dance of the Ergo when my littlest one fussed and I memorized how the ocean calmed all of us. 

We collected two more shells for our collection and headed home. 

the street where we live

On Westwood Ave, just off Main street and tucked behind a deep red maple is our home. It's a five unit apartment building, built in the early 20th century.

The basement is everything that an old basement should be: cobwebby, low ceiling-ed, and old furniture to be brought upstairs, painted and given a new home. 

The third floor is half living quarters and half attic. Ten years ago, I would have carved out a little nook by the paned glass window to read and dream. Now, I watch my girls as they scurry under the eaves and investigate all the forgotten  treasures.

It's mostly just the girls and I at home during the day. Everyone else is out and about, except for our neighbor access the hall. The gentleman has lived here for a long time and is the sweetest grandfatherly type man. He offers to help with any information about the building we may need, apologizing that he can't help in a more practical way. He's 95, still writing books and walking downtown for his groceries.

There hasn't ever been children or musicians living in this house but the others don't seem to mind. The French couple who lives upstairs always smile at our girls and love listening to the hours of practice.

There is a dog in residence, we hear his feet skittering across the hardwood floor and the little yelps when his owners come home. She looks like Kate right down to her nude pumps and dark wavy hair. He looks nothing like Will though, we exchange hellos when we go for walks and little tidbits about the neighborhood.

There's a fifth resident, one of those brilliant writers or night shift workers, I'm convinced of it. Not exactly the type to host a building party at Christmas but friendly enough to say hello.

And then us. The family with the little girls, recently transplanted from Alberta. Musician, artists and owners of the double BoB.

It's a lovely place, clotheslines out the back and a formal front entry with a beautiful tile floor. The bushes are all flaming red now, the grass still full and lush.

It's the first place that we've loved this much and that I've let myself get so attached too. It calls out the beauty, the parties we could host, the conversations to be had, the neighbors to bake for, and the memories to be made.

It's home. 

Transitions, Popcorn, and Making Memories

I lay with you tonight, until you stopped talking and your breathing slowed. You were in my bed, Daddy had to go back to Alberta to shoot a wedding and so it's just us girls hanging out for the weekend. 

You were wearing your 'workout jammies', a pair of sweats that you wear when you work out with me. You took your long sleeved pink tee off because you were just too hot. 

You flipped and flopped all over the bed. It's been a big day. It's been a big month and a half, so many changes and I forget sometimes that you're only two. 

We took Daddy to the airport and you wanted to go to. So badly. There were tears in the car. Yours, mine and Khaira's. 

I think somehow you see the airport as a magic portal. Like, if we just all step through the revolving doors life will resume normalcy again. 

It's hard, baby girl. I know, I understand. It's hard for me too. 

It's why we relax a little bit on some things, and why we maintain our family traditions. Reading the same books at bedtime, having special foods, and singing songs that we like and have always liked. 

We shared a bowl of popcorn tonight, actually it was a cake pan because we don't have our bowls with us yet. We watched a little movie, you, me and Khaira. We munched on carrot sticks and snuggled through the scenes of the screen. Khaira fell asleep quickly. You needed a little more time to unwind, you take in so much of what goes on around you. We talk about baby horses and jammies, about coloring and the swings at the park. You stroke my hair and share your blanket with me. You ask me if I'm cozy, I memorize this moment with you. 

It takes all evening for you to fall asleep and that's okay. 

Your breathing slows and you barely stir when I move back to your own bed. My own breathing slows and I feel peace. 

Picking the Perfect Pumpkin

It's the pumpkin patch dilemma. Everyone is dressed in their sweaters and plaids and boots, parents are following their children around asking them to "just please look at the camera!" "Just smile nicely!"

The children run from pumpkin to pumpkin declaring each one to be the best. They see the glory of the big orange balls, the autumn light glinting off the pumpkins, the corn maze holds mystery to their imagination.

The adults check their watches or their phones, getting caught up in a text conversation.

"Hurry, hurry, haven't you picked one out yet?"

They drag the pumpkins to get weighed and then load the children in the car to cries of 'but we weren't finished yet.'

The pumpkin sits on the front porch steps, maybe with a carved face or not. The pictures are liked and commented on, 'oh my goodness, your kids are SO cute!'

And everyone moves on. 

Pie is made with canned filling from the store or a ready-made pie is picked out from the bakery section. And it's eaten and for the most part enjoyed. I'm not judging here, this was the way we danced on Thanksgiving weekend. And it was good. 

It struck me this weekend when we were out at the pumpkin patch, the great extent we go to make memories and to capture everything and then to share it, as if the capturing and sharing make it more real. Parents chasing their children around, bribing their children for pictures when all the children want to do is run and delight in the pumpkins. Minus the bribing part, that was me. It wasn't the perfect pumpkin picking that I wanted, and it wasn't just the children who were being fussy and grumpy.

Sometimes, its better to just let the littles set the pace, to follow them around the pumpkin patch, marveling at how they walk, noticing what they notice. Sometimes it's better to not care so much about capturing the perfect picture but to make the perfect memory. Sometimes it means picking out a knobby pumpkin and hefting into the stroller for the ride home. Sometimes it means not being perfect and not being all cutesy and not having any of those pictures to share. Sometimes the only pictures are of everyone being distracted and looking the other way but sometimes there's the one magical picture of sunlight and autumn and life. Real life just like you live it everyday, captured just how you are right then. 

And that's really okay. And that's really real. And that's really beautiful. 

Colors of Nova Scotia

It's a bit of a grey day today, the sun is bravely peeking through the clouds promising that it won't always be grey. There is so much colour here in Nova Scotia, the houses, the front doors, and the bus benches. They mirror the rainbow of colors found on the trees and the wildflowers and the undergrowth. The color is vibrant and life-giving. 

The sky is expressive, dark and brooding one minute and the next moment the sun peeks through the clouds. 

I love it here. 

And today I want to share a little bit of my new home with you. 

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go and do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

H. Thurman

Wishing you a day filled with color and life and sunshine peeking through the clouds!