On Being Present

I didn't realize how much work it is just to be present with a little one, or to be present in my days generally, I suppose. To me this means being in the moment, fully committed to what is happening in that moment. Whether it's reading "Brown Bear Brown Bear" for the 10th time in a row, or making toast, or washing the dishes or calming a fussy baby, it takes some effort to keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

Especially when it comes to Aedan, I want to try harder to stay present. I don't want to get into the habit of just checking out: it's a real challenge! I also don't want to be micromanaging his play. I recognize that he is capable of amusing himself, and if he's in that mode, I'm happy to pick up a book or some knitting or get busy in the kitchen. But when he starts throwing the books at me, or pushing me away from the kitchen counter, I try to listen to what he's telling me. 

My biggest problem day to day is internet usage. I find myself drifting towards the computer, often checking out mentally as a I scroll through my Facebook news feed. I'll pull Aedan into my lap if he wants me, and I want to break that habit. He's too young to be learning to stare at a screen (a screen that invariably is full of advertisements of one kind or another). In an attempt to curb my Face-time, I've set it up to be way less interesting, but the habit persists. 

I've decided I want to limit my internet time to when Aedan is sleeping. I think it is my number one time wasting, mindfulness-sabotaging tool...it's going to be tough. I tell myself that I keep Facebook open all day because the chat is like my telephone. But if I'm honest about it, it's not like anyone is "calling". And I do have Skype for that. Some days I feel I'm not much different from the person with the smartphone glued to her hand, constantly checking for updates. And I don't want to be that person.

How do you stay present with your kids? How do you manage your internet time (or do you?)

365 project

On January 1st, I began a 365 photo project. I will take (at least) one photo a day, for the year. Each Sunday, I'll share my favourite photo from the previous week here on the blog. If you'd like to join in on the fun, feel free to post a photo or a link to one in the comments section!

Quotidien

It has been a cat-pee-on-the-couch, baby-poo-on-the-rug kind of morning. Tempered by a big mug of fragrant jasmine green tea and Stewart McLean on the CBC.

The babe is down for a nap, the couch cushions are soaked in a vinegar/dish soap/water solution that seemed to work last time. The floors are swept, and the cat is hiding, so the dogs are in to relax by the wood stove.

This mama is left wondering if she's bitten off more than she can chew.

Since my cat, Patsy, died last spring, I've been missing a feline presence in the house. Aedan has been getting better with the dogs, learning more about "gentle" each day; I felt sure that the right cat would fit right into our Dempster home. On new years eve, we brought home Jameson, a sweet one year old grey cat from the local shelter.

He's taking his time warming up, but spends a little more time out of hiding each day. He's wary of Aedan, and of the dogs, too. I'm stressing a little over how he's fitting in, even losing a bit of sleep over it.

And he's peeing on furniture. This is the second time he's peed on a couch, and last night I crawled into a big stinky wet spot in our bed. I hope he can settle in here and feel comfortable, but if the peeing hasn't stopped by the end of the 2 week foster/trial period, he'll have to go back, and I'll have to put off my dream of a cat...

Reflecting

Something I didn't realize about blogging: it's as much for me as it is for all of you. It's strange that I didn't realize that until a few days ago, when I read back over my year's posts. It was an eye-opener to read the things I felt compelled to blog about, and to notice the things I left out. 

I feel like in the last year I've begun to come to terms with the path my life has taken: with motherhood and with bush life primarily. Being a new mama is isolating in and of itself...being a new mama who lives 40 km from the nearest town, with no close neighbours, takes that loneliness to a whole new level. Missing from this blog are those feelings, the blues I felt many days, the total craziness of spending days without talking to anyone other than my baby or my man. I didn't want to live here, so far out of town. But here I am today, and I'm loving it.

I've come to love the peace and quiet life in the bush brings. I've come to love the solitude, the feeling of freedom and independence. More than anything I've come to love the space we've got. We have 5 acres to call our own, but those 5 acres are surrounded by thousands of acres of forest, river and mountain. I think I'd feel claustrophobic if we moved to town now. Whereas before I felt trapped here, now I feel free and full of possibility. It's a wonderful change and I'm grateful for it.

I regret that I didn't record those feelings of loneliness, though. Not here, and not in my paper journal, either. I think it's just as important to include the darkness with the light, to give balance and a truer perspective. I hope to use this space more freely in the coming year, recording my days openly and honestly, as much for myself as for those of you reading. 

My hopes for 2013 include making good use of this land we're on, growing some of our own food and keeping chickens. I hope to continue on my path to eliminating toxins from our daily life, from how we wash to the food we eat and the pans in which we prepare it. 

I want to make creativity a big part of my life again, writing and taking photographs and creating with my hands.

I want to fill my life with light and love and positiveity. I want to nurture my soul, and in so doing, nurture those closest to me. 

Wishing you all the best for your own endeavours in this coming year! 

Journey Outside and Back

The past 10 days feel more like 30. From knowing we would have to make a dash to Ontario, to doing it and being there, and back again: it's gone by so fast, and yet seemed like forever.

Each time we make the journey Outside (of the Yukon, that is), I am struck by just how remote we are here. As we speed along the winding highway carved out of a vast boreal forest, sometimes seeing nothing else moving but grouse for hours, I can't help but reflect on what this journey would have meant a mere 60 years ago. In winter, it would have meant more than a week on a dogsled, food packed for dogs and people alike, first aid kits, an ax, and your luggage; nights in little log-cabin roadhouses or canvas tents pitched under the flickering aurora. In short, this is not a trip one would have made lightly.

I am grateful that we can answer the call of family, that we are able to make it out of here with relative ease when we are needed. We take these things for granted: pick-up trucks with block heaters, paved highways and government crews to maintain them.

Thankfully, all is well back east.

Our drive home yesterday was mostly uneventful: while P and Aedan both slept, I slowed the truck as we passed a pair of elk at the forest's edge. A little further down the road, we bumped over a glacier that had appeared across the highway in the week since we'd made the trip down. It was a colour of blue that is curiously common only to thick, glacial ice and the Caribbean sea.

We arrived to find the house in a state, though...the housesitter had caught a whiff of propane (the pilot light had gone out on the propane fridge, but she didn't realize this) so she'd cracked open a door and then forgot about said cracked door...it was -10 C in here. The 3 jugs of water she'd left us were frozen solid, as was all of the food in the cupboards. The food in the freezer, however, was all thawed, because the pilot light went out. It was not a nice homecoming. It took about 4 hours to raise the temperature 20 degrees.

In the face of things like this, I count our blessings. A safe drive home. A fire that was still going (it could have been much colder inside if not for that). Groceries brought from Whitehorse. An incredibly adaptable baby who thought it was fun to toddle around the house in his parka.

The house is toasty now, we've opened our stockings and had blueberry pancakes for breakfast, using the last of the blueberries I harvested at summer's end.

It's good to be home, to slip back into the rhythm of my days.

A Little Blue

Each day grows shorter; we spend more time in darkness than in the light. I find myself drawing inwards, my mind filled with projects and ideas for the coming months. I'm finding it difficult to extend myself outward, and I suppose that's been reflected in my infrequent trips to town, and my silence in this space.

I'm looking forward to the solstice, but I am a little sad this year, too. We'll be travelling, making an unexpected short trip to Ontario. I try to focus on the reason for this trip: being with family in a time of need. We didn't have any big plans for celebration here, for the solstice or for Christmas, but I am eager to begin our own traditions. I feel like that will be put off for another year. Oh well...

Que sera, sera.

These days...

These days have been about staying warm. November ended on a chilly note, with lows of -44 C at night and "highs" of around -37 C for the few brief hours the sun is in the sky.

We had seemingly unending issues with our power supply, and both our main and backup generators made numerous trips to the mechanic. This made for some dark mornings, the house filled with flickering candle light, and a little time away from the computer. I quite enjoyed that respite. With a bit of ingenuity on P's part, I think we've got things sorted out and we're ready for the next cold spell.

Through that time I was so grateful that we weren't also dealing with frozen fuel lines (and therefore no heat) or frozen drain pipes, like so many of our friends in town. Our water never stops flowing from the blessed blue jugs, and our woodstove is always crackling warm.

The cold, clear skies began to cloud over two days ago, and today it is grey and warm, with a very light snowfall dusting over our tracks in the yard. I'm glad to have a break from the 40's...it is a cold that takes your breath away.

These twilight shrouded days, I find myself seeking light wherever I can. I find myself noticing the weak patches of sunlight that briefly shine through the windows, casting shapes and shadows onto the walls. I light candles in all the dark corners where the few electric lights don't reach, taking solace in this nightly ritual (which happens a little earlier each day). I look forward to the winter solstice, when we celebrate the return of the sun and the days gradually lengthening again.