au compte-goute

My moments with the children are measured, drops into a vast bucket. Never enough at a time. Never enough to fill to the brim.

Once, I was drowning. I couldn't breathe. I grabbed onto life preservers; some tore me up a fair bit. A drowning woman can't tell a buoy from a stone. I told him I had to go. I had to be in a wide-open space, alone. He thought I meant without the kids. I could not even fathom the idea of leaving them. Alone includes them.

My moments with the children are measured. Sunday afternoon to Sunday afternoon. With a break mid-week, so it's never seven days.

Once, I would feel relief at the end of the week, when they were leaving to go to Dad. The near-drowning had left me so very tired. I loved them and held them for dear life. We fought and they wanted to know why, why. They wanted to fix it, I know.

The tide turned at some point. The whys abated; my breathing steadied. Now I began counting in reverse, till the moment I would see them again.

We drove the country, those children and me, and I never felt so happy and so free as I was in the great, gorgeous openness of the Saskatchewan prairie. Past the waters and into the wide, wonderful sky. I breathed. We breathed together.

Nineteen days. That's the longest I've ever gone without seeing them. One day, I know it will be so much longer. When one of them decides to go off to school, or to take a year or a few months to travel. Or they move to another city for a job. For now, I live in a sort of denial that those days exist somewhere in the vague future. Last night we broke the 19-day streak. While they were still fighting off jet lag, I picked them up at Dad's and we set out for gelato. Ninety minutes. An hour and a half of chatting, laughing, hugging, teasing, sharing. Never quite enough to fill to brim, but it will do.

our road trip

The girls and I took our little nest on the road for three weeks, from our hometown of Ottawa, to the west coast of Canada. We spent 22 days on the road. Our longest day in the car was about eight hours; our average day in the car between destinations was five hours, though in some cases we spent multiple days in the same location.

I'd always wanted to do that trip, to see the country and explore places I'd never been. We live in an amazingly beautiful country, with such a diverse geography (it is a huge country, after all), that I wanted to see some of it for myself. I'd been to Alberta a number of times, what with my aunt living there on a farm with her family and my brother having settled and raised a family in Calgary. And I'd visited Vancouver a couple of times, but I'd never been to the northern portions of my own province, and never visited the prairies.

I'd caught the family travel bug a few years ago. Back in our nuclear family days, Dad and I had taken the kids for a month in Italy, and a year later, a month in Peru. Those were amazing trips. We had a full list of places to go next: Namibia, Nepal and Bhutan, Morocco, India… The list went on. But once we split up, I was happy simply affording a house in the neighbourhood of my choice. Those kinds of exotic trips were off limits. And even if I'd had the money, I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable navigating those places as a single mom with two young girls.

That's when the Great Canadian Road Trip idea was born. I had considered flying us out to Alberta for family time, but it seemed pretty expensive. And while family is definitely important, and the connections we have with my family there mean everything to me, I also wanted to explore a little more. I costed it out, and driving 10,000 km in my little Honda Fit (to get there and back) wasn't going to be prohibitive. Staying in a variety of accommodations along the way - motels, hotels, camping, family - wasn't going to break the bank.

As for entertainment, with enough research, you can do it on the very cheap. Many national parks are free, and those that aren't, are free on Canada Day. Hiking costs nothing, except for parking in some places. Some museums and one owl sanctuary run on donations rather than entrance fees. You can get into the Calgary Stampede for free on a couple of days, if you arrive before 9; if you don't mind crowds, this works out well. My niece bought advance ride tickets, which saved us about $20 per person (it was lovely that she treated us). Altogether, we spent less than $400 on entertainment over the three weeks.

On food…. there are countless Stampede breakfasts and BBQs that you could theoretically eat for free for most of those ten days! We got a free lunch at a national historic site on Canada Day. Buying groceries on the road is the same price as buying them at home - you just need to be flexible on what you're eating and make that suit your accommodations (some places have kitchenettes, and sometimes you make do with a kettle and Mr Noodles and TVP with cut veggies for supper, which was actually a favourite with the kids). We did eat out a fair bit, but we found places with kids' menus, which are always cheaper. And for a whole week, we were guests with family, so we were well fed and cared for, for sure.

So here's where we went and an overview of what we saw and did (links to the touristy parts I found most worthwhile):

• Sudbury: Science North and the Big Nickel
• Pancake Bay Provincial Park: camping, and gorgeous beach
• Wawa: a quick stop to see the big goose
• Pukaskwa National Park: camping and beautiful hiking
• Thunder Bay: Terry Fox memorial, chilling out
• Dryden, Ontario: murals and painted benches - a good stop between T-Bay and the Peg
• Winnipeg (3 days): Lake Winnipeg, The Forks, Trolley tour, laundry (this was a cultural adventure, I assure you), St Boniface
• Yorkton, Saskatchewan: stop over between the Peg and the Toon, though we were caught in an area that as under a state of emergency, on account of flooding
• Saskatoon (2 days): the conservatory, Mendel Art Gallery, Batoche National Historic Site, Wanuskewin Heritage Park
• Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan: passing through to our next destination, we visited the Burrowing Owl Interpretive Centre, for Boo, who loves owls
• Southwestern Saskatchewan (2 days): Grasslands National Park, Great Sand Hills
• Calgary (4 days): we stayed with my niece (I never tire of telling people I was literally a child when she was born, so it's not so painful when I say we stayed with my niece and her husband!); we visited Heritage Park, the Stampede, the Royal Tyrell Museum, hiked (sort of!) in the badlands and saw the hoodoos
• east of Red Deer (3 days): we stayed with my aunt and uncle on their farm; my mom was also visiting there. The girls got to jump hay bails with their second cousins, and explore the farm
• Sorrento: we visited with the girls' aunt on their Dad's side, along with her extended family who invited us to stay with them at a retreat where they were staying
• Vancouver: we visited Kits beach; we made it to the Pacific!

I had an amazing time with my girls. There were moments of spats between them, but over all, they got along splendidly. There was never once a "are we there yet?!" despite the length of some of the legs of the trip. They mostly shared their bed well, though there was one night I had to separate them. They were always up for a new adventure. When I got frustrated or annoyed at a destination being less than anticipated, I tried not to show it. This allowed them to form their own opinions. It means that they have great memories of our Winnipeg hotel, when I think it was an absolute bust. All they need, really, is a pool with a slide, and they are happy as clams. That's definitely a life lesson for me.

I wonder what kinds of things they will remember from this trip. I know that they've been talking about their cousins - both first and second cousins - a lot. They have already asked that next year's trip consist of Alberta only and that we spend as much time with these cousins as possible.

For me, the sheer beauty of our country will stick with me, as will its vastness. There is so much to explore.

the long (and quiet) road back

On June 21, we loaded up the car, jumped in at dawn, and headed west. For three weeks, the girls and I explored chunks of our beautiful country. From the north shores of Lake Superior, to the strong, wide beauty of the prairies, to never-quite-enough family time in Alberta, and finally to the west coast, we got to get to know a few pockets of Canada. And a few more pockets of each other.

Today, I sit in the too-quiet solitude. After three straight weeks with my girls - the most I've had since the separation - I have had to say goodbye. I dropped them off with their Dad, who is visiting with some of his family in BC.

And then I drove home. All 4600 km over four days. Alone.

After sharing moments of excitement, teaching them about geography and history, and hearing them sing their little hearts out, the drive was solitary.

I realised, for the first time, that I don't just love my kids. They are my two most favourite people. They are smart and funny and kind and wildly random. They have grown into two very different people, with their own ideas, opinions, and big fat hearts. They are, for lack of a better word, simply beautiful.

I miss them.

do one thing every day that scares you

"Do one thing every day that scares you." This is a modern proverb that gets lumped in with so many others on facebook, twitter, lululemon bags, and inspirational posters.

What if just getting out of bed is the thing that scares you?

Anxiety is an invisible disorder that many people deal with daily. When I was a young mom, with a newborn and toddler, the idea of leaving the house to pick up a carton of milk terrified me. Putting snowsuits, hats, mitts, and boots onto those little bodies, then getting myself ready, then taking the stroller down the stairs of our apartment building, while carrying the baby and coaxing the toddler… It felt impossible. I didn't have a name for it at the time, but it was anxiety.

That anxiety dissipated with time and through learning how to ask people for help. It also helped that my girls, The Bean especially, became more and more independent quite quickly.

It was years before I felt the anxiety again. But the next time, it was different. I felt deep, yet hidden, anxiety within my marriage. And I felt even more anxiety leaving the safety of that relationship to head into the unknown. I had a panic attack - the only one I've ever had - after visiting the house I ended up renting. I was not prepared for the fear that would nearly paralyze me. But I did it, step by step, day by day, I got out of bed and did something that scared me: I got on with living.

Owning a house, one that has needed more work than I ever dreamed of taking on, has brought with it its own challenges. Feeling anxious was a natural state for me from September, when I put an offer on the house, through to March, when the last of the big repairs were done. It was only one evening when I finally sat down to knit for the first time in over half a year, that I realised that something was different. The anxiety had fallen away. I felt peace.

The peace was relatively short-lived.

***

My whole life I've wanted to drive across Canada. I've wanted to experience the big sky of the prairies, to see all the strange natural sites there are to experience, and yes, to see the giant road-side attractions. So when I bought a car over a year ago, that dream started to come into focus. And when Dad said he'd be taking the kids to Vancouver this summer during his time with them, suddenly this was doable: I could take three weeks to drive with the kids from Ottawa to Vancouver, and drop them off with Dad who would later fly them home. And they wouldn't have to endure the drive back. Perfect.

I've got the trip all planned out, from our first day in Sudbury, to camping on Lake Superior, to exploring the Peg, to Stampede in Calgary… But there is always more planning I could do. And I'm used to travelling with another adult - sharing the responsibilities. We set the itinerary, he books the hotels, I research the sites. We set out in the morning, I take the pictures, he tells about the history of the place. Now it's all on me.

I've been feeling that now-familiar throbbing of my upper body, the weight of something - fear - on me. The thing with anxiety is that it is not rational. Putting snowsuits on kids is not complicated. Driving for 600km is not complicated, finding the pre-booked hotel in a new city is not complicated. But I'm scared.

I have thought about just cancelling. It wouldn't be that hard. But then we'd miss out on so much. I'm also excited about this trip. I think it's going to be amazing. So, I'm going to follow the advice of that latter day proverb: for four weeks straight, I'm going to do at least one thing (likely many) that scares me. First stop: Science North.

feeling out loud

When I imagined being a mom when I was younger, I never really imagined what my kids would be like. I certainly never guessed that I'd have one that was so much like me that it would almost be painful to see.

My kids are a pretty good mix of Dad and me. But The Bean is more Dad, and Boo is more me. It took me a few years to realise how much Boo is like me. Mostly because I wasn't fully like me for most of my life.

As a very young child, I was loud and talkative and full of passion. I won't dwell on what turns out to have been a somewhat difficult childhood because of my dad's alcoholism or his later long, drawn out battle with cancer that left me and my mom on our own when I was 13. But those life experiences dictated that I needed to be quiet, to suppress my chattiness and to smother my feelings. Because those things were too big, and there was no room for them in our lives. Cancer took up most of the air time.

It took me years to find that loudness, the passion, the zeal, and the plain old self-confidence I was born with. It took a while, too, to really see it once I'd found it. Here's where I finally saw it: in a conversation about Boo.

Last summer I spent long, warm evenings falling in love. In friend-love with a lovely person who taught me a lot. He taught me that I can have a passionate disagreement about politics and still respect and care for my opponent. He showed me that exploring different parts of myself isn't so scary. And he reflected myself back to me.

Over a glass of wine on a patio one night, I was telling him about Boo (cf so vain).  About the kid's amazing self-confidence. About the passion. About how she just seems to get joy out of being obstinate. He chuckled, looked and me and said, "I wonder where she gets that."

I gave him a side glance, with a great big question mark.

"Come on!" he said. "She's just like you."

So she is, I realised in that moment. That's me I'm watching walking around out there, with this confidence. With those convictions. With the deep, deep feelings.

I have always been sensitive. I have always felt things deeply. But only recently have I rediscovered that and let myself feel everything just as it is. No more filters. So tonight I sit here, feeling everything quite keenly. Including a sweet sadness. I miss that friend. People come in and out of our lives, and I believe that we learn so much about ourselves if we pay close enough attention. I am thankful for the friend-love and the experiences. I am thankful for having learned that I, too, feel out loud like Boo. And I am thankful tonight for all those out loud feelings.

the letter

The Bean was accepted into the gifted program at her junior high school!

When we arrived home tonight after a lovely dinner and visit with friends, I noticed that there was a letter from the school board in the mailbox, addressed to me. I opened to read the happy news that The Bean is officially registered in the junior high school of her choice, that she is in the pre-Arts program, and that she was accepted into the gifted program.

As I read the letter out loud to her, The Bean's eyes lit up and she jumped up and down, so happy to hear that she was in. It was funny because in my mind there was no question whether she'd be accepted. This time last year, we got The Bean's "diagnosis" after a battery of tests over the span of more than a month: this kid is gifted. Oh, and she has ADD, but that's another story. To her, though, this was a big question that was weighing on her mind. She was hoping and hoping and hoping some more. And finally the day has come.

The gifted program will be great for The Bean, for more than one reason. The child is bored in math class and has been told by her sixth grade teacher that she could teach it better than the teacher herself. Last year, at the age of 10, she had the reading comprehension of a 12th grader. She makes connections between ideas that demonstrate a unique thought process that sometimes astounds me. So the more challenging learning environment will be good for her. But the smaller class size and the fact that she will be with the same people in the same class, more or less, for the rest of high school is a very good thing for her. She will be less anxious and less distracted by what class she needs to go to next. Routine is what keeps this kid on the rails. Familiarity allows her brain to slow down and focus in. This will be very good.

As The Bean jumped into my arms when she heard the news, I knew that this is what it will feel like in six years when she gets those letters from colleges or universities. Great surprise and relief on her part, a warm I knew you could do this on mine.

Way to go, Beanie. Can't wait to watch you soar some more.

things I've learned from online dating

One Friday night, after much thought and consideration, I signed up with an online dating site. I answered some questions, chose some pictures, and wrote a short profile. Three short weeks later I took  my profile down. The whys and wherefores can be discussed another day. But in those 21 days, I learned a fair bit about myself and about life. Here are those things, in no particular order:

Being honest saves everyone lots of time
I realised very quickly that I had to be 100% honest about what I do, what I like, and what I want. Otherwise, I'd be attracting a guy that wouldn't be a good match. And when guys were honest with me, I could tell sooner whether it would work. So when Jason told me that his latest hobby is sport shooting - this just after he told me was going ATV riding with buddies over the weekend - I knew that our upcoming date was going to be a disaster. So I cancelled. He responded with, "yeah, I wasn't feeling the warm fuzzies either."

There are lots of people out there whose paths I will never cross
And for good reason: we have zero interests in common. Cf Jason, above.

Certain types of facial hair make me suspicious
Moustaches and soul patches. Take that for what it is.

Visual cues are everything
This isn't about looks - not exactly. How a person carries themselves, including what they wear, what kind of hair they have (and facial hair!), whether they are smiling, and so much more, provides clues to who they are as well as their interests. If a guy didn't have a picture of him smiling, I wasn't interested. If his smile made his eyes twinkle, I was smitten. How traditionally "hot" a man is doesn't really matter to me. How real he is, and how his genuineness comes across is key. And there are the guys who just don't do it for me. **I feel like this particular item on the list deserves its own blooper reel, complete with guys in mullets, and the one guy who is holding his pug while wearing a beige t-shirt with a larger-than-life pug face on it. The thing is, there is a woman out there for that guy. It's just not me.

I prefer men to approach me
This one surprised me a little. And it could be that in general men prefer to approach women, because I had a lot more luck with men who approached me first than with men I approached. In fact, of the dozen or more men I messaged first, only three got back to me, and those conversations fizzled immediately. Whereas the men who approached me were more interesting and the conversations went somewhere. This might also be that I'm not good at consciously picking a good match but I can attract one. The jury is still out...

There are more dudes with motorcycles, per capita, on that website than in real life
Just an observation.

Some people shouldn't be dating
I don't mean this in a mean way at all. But some people have to deal with their shit. There was one guy who introduced himself and we chatted a bit. I realised early on that we didn't share the same worldview, even though we had some other things in common. I let him down gently (but firmly - see Honesty, above) after about eight message exchanges over two days. His response was to go on a multiple-paragraph tirade on how I had no idea what I was talking about, that he was a great guy and I didn't know what I was missing. His response was very aggressive. I had dodged a bullet. That dude shouldn't be seeing anyone until he gets over his rejection issues.

I like a guy who can talk - but also listen
I kinda knew this, but I picked it up really quickly. One guy sent me one- or two-word responses to my questions. He had such a great smile, but I just couldn't handle what seemed like air-headedness to me. Another guy would answer questions in a sentence or two, but not ask anything back, thus killing the conversation. I really shouldn't have to work at it. Yet another man seemed smart and lovely, but I got the sense that he would never listen to me. He wrote me responses that took me 15 or more minutes to read. And there were so many questions. His messages seemed breathless in excitement. This guy would never shut up. There's got to be something in the middle, right?

I'm not quite up for the active search
I deleted my profile because while I'd like to date someone, I'm not ready to go after it actively. I've met men and been on dates, the old fashioned way. They obviously didn't work out (hence the online dating profile), but it was so much easier. So for now I'm just taking things as they come, now armed with the things I've learned.