Reunions, Remembering and In(ter)dependence Days

I cried myself to sleep after returning from taking my parents and aunt to the airport for their flight back East.  And while there were certainly tears of sadness, I realized that if I'd been crying colors I'd have created a lovely tapestry for the tears were of many types.  I cried because I miss having my family within a short drive so we could easily meet for dinner whenever we choose; I cried because I'm so grateful that after two weeks we didn't want them to leave; I cried prayers of travel mercies and safety as I thought of them travelling; I cried tears of joy that my children have these lovely memories of their grandparents in this lovely place; I cried because I am overwhelmed at the fullness of our life and the lovely people in it.  Alas - the road to sleep had begun with my distaste for goodbyes affirmed by red, swollen eyes when Lydia and I held hands and made our way back to the car to come back home - a home that for two weeks felt extra alive, with family in town and the laughter and shared stories they brought.  It felt really empty when no one rang the apartment to be buzzed up for the day's adventure.  The walk up the sidewalk on Robson Street seemed strange as I kept up with only my two children.  But now also feels richer - even through the bleary eyed headache that the tears left behind - because now is the first time since we've moved that I can call my parents and talk about going to the school or grocery store and they actually know where I'm talking about.  They've walked the streets that are now our home and they've shopped in the same stores we do and they've hiked in the same magical forests we've grown to love.

Now it's time to record the memories - of our 14 days of adventure and their photos - a chronology of our connection here and a documentation of the connection between SC and the Pacific NW.  And I'm excited about recounting our time together and again grateful for the memories captured within these photos (thanks to Philip - our family photographer - he's really good!).

Days 1 & 2:
The first two days were lovely and we drove through the old growth forests in Stanley Park, got out and meandered from 2nd Beach to English Bay and met Philip for lunch at our favorite English Pub - Elephant & Castle.  Then we bummed around the waterfront watching sea planes land and take off while soaking in the sun.  We explored the West End, including the kids' school and our favorite grocery store along the way.  Mongolian BBQ for lunch was a hit!  We also introduced everyone to our favorite gelato store and wandered about Robson Street - shopping and people watching.

Mimi pulls a tooth!  The tradition continues...

Day 3:
We packed a picnic lunch and headed to the aquarium for the day - the kids could not wait to take Mimi, Papa and Aunt Rhonda to one of their favorite spots and show them the beluga whales, otters, jellyfish and dolphins.  It was a rainy day but fun nonetheless - and I learned that a classic 'lumberjack' sub from Safeway can easily feed 6 people.  I'd highly recommend that plan!  We got home and rested up for Lydia's 'big show'!  Her final ballet class at the community center included a mini performance and it was great fun to celebrate her dance skills with extended family.  She did great!  And Henry was a most supportive big brother - and the coffee we had on the seawall at Coal Harbour was yummy.  We got to show the family where Love it or List it Vancouver concludes its show many times - Cardero's restaurant!

Day 4:
Philip and I preached to all who were coming to visit that they must bring rain attire.  Saturday found us heading for Grouse Mountain with a 20% chance of rain - which usually means just grey skies in Vancouver.  Alas - we rode the gondola to the top of the mountain and headed into the chalet for lunch only for the rain to come.  Naturally, Philip and I were the only ones withOUT rain gear - oh well, we just got wet.  Sadly, we didn't get to see the Grizzly bears but we enjoyed the movies, the gondola rides and the promise of warmth that home would provide.  We stopped off at the Capilano Fish Hatchery on the way down the mountain and meandered through the old growth, mossy forest and saw salmon spawning and the Capilano Dam - the mist on the water was fairy tale-ish and the forest walk was amazing.

 

Day 5:
Big day!  We were headed to Shannon Falls and Whistler - Olympic celebration at it's finest!  We hiked to the Shannon Falls viewing platform and marveled at the lovely falls - they really are incredible...and HUGE!  The kids had great fun showing Mimi, Papa and Aunt Rhonda their favorite spots along the river and looking for special rocks.  Once we arrived in Whistler we went to our family's favorite restaurant for lunch and showed off the fun playground, the peak to peak gondola (which we admired from afar), the snow on the mountain peaks and the Olympic rings.  The cloudy start to the day had given way to a beautiful, sunny day and the drive back into the city was glorious.  The peaks made themselves known as the sun burnt off the fog and nature's majesty offered quite a show! 

 

 

Whistler - street performers!

Day 6:
We rested - and mama and Philip ventured down Denman to give acupuncture a whirl while the kids and I walked with Aunt Rhonda and Daddy to this lovely little (well, really not so little) bookstore called MacLeod's.  We walked into that store and I felt like we had wandered into a book warehouse - books were stacked all around us - we were in a hoarder's paradise.  But the folks who own/work there know exactly where everything is!  Everyone picked out a book they wanted one and we cabbed it back home.  Acupuncture and massage were deemed great uses of time and recovery was lovely.

Day 7:
Canada Day!  We had the pleasure of celebrating Canada Day with friends at a community picnic hosted by our friends Jeff & Sara and their church.  The kids shared their friends with their grandparents, we ate hot dogs and hamburgers, played baseball, tossed water balloons and just had a great time!  Then we rested up for the big Canada Day parade!  At 7PM we walked down the block for a great parade...there were countless cultures represented, and it was really fun.  And I was struck that this celebration of Canada and its independence was so heavily focused on the cultures that have come together to make Canada great - a true celebration of people which was really delightful.

Canada Day Parade - bagpipes!

Canada Day Parade

Nothing says Canadian independence like stormtroopers, right???

Canada Day Picnic in Stanley Park - Mimi and Aunt Rhonda concentrating on checkers

Pure joy!

Buddies: Leiroy and Henry

Lydia's got a future in facepainting

Aunt Rhonda got the star treatment in the face painting department!

Loving on Papa

What's a picnic without water balloons?

Happy Canada Day!

 

Go Canada? :)

Day 8:
We enjoyed a low key day - Aunt Rhonda got  new 'do' at my favorite Aveda Hair Salon on Robson Street, mama and I went to T & T Grocery Store and marveled at their live seafood selection, green tea flavored Kit Kats, sauces by the carload and more mushroom varieties than you could imagine!  It's great fun to explore ethnic grocers and find new menu items to incorporate into our daily life.  Papa held down the fort with the kids while Philip returned to work.

Day 9:
We hopped aboard the aquabus and headed for Granville Island.  The kids eagerly shared their favorite part of the island, Kids Mart (I wonder why it's their favorite?!?!), with everyone and then led us to their favorite restaurant - Cat's Social House.  On the way we discovered the Granville Island Water Park - it was AMAZING!  We'll totally head back to enjoy that fun spot!  It's been amazing to discover all of the FREE, public water parks for kids to enjoy around the city - our goal is to hit every single one of them.

 

Day 10:
We began our day with yummy brunch at Abode - close to our house - that serves the best, slap your mama brisket breakfast bowl I've ever experienced.  We took our time, filled our bellies, and met some folks from Alabama who were heading for an Alaskan cruise.  It's amazing how shirts with college sports logos have the power to connect people who would normally never speak to one another.  It was really funny and neat at the same time.  Then - Miss Lydia's patience was rewarded - we FINALLY made our way up Robson Street to Chapters (a bookstore) which houses the only American Girl Doll store in Vancouver.  She had the most wonder-full time of sharing the store with Mimi, Papa and Aunt Rhonda and was delighted with her spoils (which took nearly all day to narrow down to fit within her budget).  Henry floated on cloud nine as he got to choose Legos from the kids' area of the store.  The kids walked home with Papa while we grown up girls slowly made our way back up Robson window shopping and laughing.  The evening saw a boys' night in the making as Philip and Daddy met up with Philip's closest colleagues for drinks at Blackbird's - a place that I'm sure has played host to many a tall tale and lots of laughter.  Funny enough - they were excused from Blackbird's as the whole place had been booked for a film's wrap party - but not before Bombay Gin handed out freebies to everyone in the restaurant. 

Day 11:
Today we walked to the seawall and the beach at English Bay.  It was cool and cloudy, but lovely nonetheless.  We got to people watch and everyone got to touch the Pacific waters that lap the sand at English Bay.  We gathered shells, took pictures of the giant inukshuk and then headed to what really should be a Southern restaurant - C-Lovers.  It's a place where fish and prawns are all served and the only preparation available is FRIED.  It was tasty and inspired nap time afterwards.  We got to visit Ayoub's Dried Fruit & Nuts store - it's a glorious destination for all things decadent.  I even found saffron for $4!  Real saffron - and not just a strand or 2 - it was half an ounce!

Day 12:
Kind of on a whim, we rented a minivan and headed East toward Mission, BC (the filming site of Rambo: First Blood) to visit the Othello Tunnels.  We'd never been there but had wanted to go and it seemed only fitting to head there with family so all of us experienced it for the first time together!  Naturally, it got cloudy and rainy, but it wasn't too bad because it kept the air cool.  The tunnels were incredible - they had been part of the railway system and their builder (who was responsible for construction of many of the Canadian railways) had an affinity for Shakespeare.  He named all of his railroad projects after famous Shakespearean characters and the five tunnel section that's now been graveled over in Hope is the Othello section.  There were crazy tall bridges and views of water I've never seen before.  It was glorious!  As luck would have it, there were car accidents on Hwy 1 on the way back to Vancouver so we hopped off the interstate in Agassiz (home of the illusive tulips we searched for on Easter weekend) and had a yummy dinner at Jack's.  Then we embarked upon a lengthy, albeit beautiful, ride back to the city via back roads.  The sunset was the prettiest I have ever seen - I only wish I hadn't been driving because I would have taken pictures galore!  We finally pulled into the apartment at 11PM - thoroughly exhausted and road weary, but FULL from the sights and experiences of the day.

Day 13:
As the finale of our sightseeing we headed to Gas Town to find souvenirs and enjoy the older part of the city.  It has the feel of Charleston, with some cobbled streets and older architecture, but has the grit you'd associate with inner city - I just love the energy of Gas Town.  We lunched at one of the kids' favorite spots before making our way down Water Street.  We window shopped, t-shirt shopped, and souvenir shopped as we meandered to the Gassy Jack statue.  He got his name not as one might think.  Turns out he worked in a bar and became well known for his lengthy stories - and for his ability to talk ad infinitum - aka 'blowing gas'.  Even funnier was the sign we came upon right beside the statue that read "Real Carolina BBQ".  Despite having just eaten lunch, mama insisted that we give this a try and test its validity...and I must say - hat's off to Peckinpah for some legit BBQ (the noun, not the verb) and the ONLY hushpuppies you'll find in all of Vancouver.  Discovery points for mama - now we have a Southern BBQ joint right here in the Pacific Northwest that we can visit when we get a hankering!

Peckinpah - yummy! http://www.peckinpahbbq.com/

I need a break!

Gassy Jack

Day 14:
We enjoyed a quiet day in the apartment - emotions were thick as we whiled away the hours before we had to head to the airport.  Tears came readily as Lydia begged her grandparents not to leave.  Countenances were drawn.  Hearts were full.  The goodbyes were lengthy, the hugs tight.  Lydia and I drove everyone to the airport and she was a wreck - lamenting the departure of people she loves dearly and who love her back.  The sendoff at security was torturous and gut wrenching, but we survived.  In truth, I'm glad it was hard - it meant our connections are deep and our bonds strong.  Had it been easy I think that might have been more sad.  The tears and heartache were tempered, however, when they gave way to belly laughter as we got trapped in the airport parking lot!  My card got stuck in the machine at the "easy" exit (not) kiosk.  We clogged an entire lane for about 20 minutes as we waited for someone to come fish out my card and let us out.  It was hilarious, really, especially when I realized that instead of climbing across to the passenger side of the car to get out (since I was parked so close to the kiosk) I could've simply backed up and gotten out of the driver's seat.  Clearly the high emotions were affecting my sensibilities.  Nonetheless, we escaped and got home in one piece.  Sleep came easy once the tears dried.

We had a lovely two weeks sharing this part of ourselves with people who know us best - we have a new depth knowing that we're connected by experience to the East coast and it's great fun to talk with folks who really know what we're referring to when we talk about what we do on a daily basis here.  I realized the irony in being together with family over two countries' independence celebrations while enjoying how connected we are to other people and how dependent we are on our connections.  Independence is great - don't get me wrong - but I think it's richer when we realize it's at its finest when celebrated in relationship. 

The Anatomy of a Teacher Strike

To say I've learned a lot in our almost year here is an understatement.  The current lesson has been mindblowing - labor unions, government and my kids.  Here's the thing - today is Thursday, but functionally, it's our Friday because for the second day in the past two weeks our district's schools are closed for rotating strikes by the teachers.  I don't have completely informed opinions about this whole mess, but I do have opinions.  Information is hard to wade through and not readily available in some instances, so I'm sticking with observations of the process.  I'm a process person and have been utterly fascinated by this particular process as it's so new to me.

Caveats:
*I am NOT a labor attorney, nor do I have any formal training in labor negotiations (translation: I don't get all that's going on from a legal or technical point of view)
*I am a child of an educator and an educator myself and I deeply value public education and those who are committed to helping my children grow in public schools
*Unions are new to me.
*I have a singular perspective as I've been through this in one school for the first time living in a country not of my birth.

Now that I *hope* I've explained my relative ignorance to this whole process because of its newness to me and our newness to this place, here we go.  Strikes are a funny thing - they're polarizing with the hope of effectiveness and they're reported through the eyes of media and messages are passed through representatives - so I've learned that it's hard to find the actual nuts and bolts of decisions and their implications.  Here's what I think I understand:

-Teachers in British Columbia are part of the BC Teacher Federation - the teachers' labor union.
-The government negotiates with the BCTF through the BC Public School Employer's Association.
-Currently, the main sticking points are: teacher compensation, contract term (length), class size and class composition (meaning how many special needs young people may be mainstreamed into each class).
-The BCTF started by asking for a 15.9% pay increase over 4 years (plus cost of living adjustments).
-The BCPSEA countered by offering a 6.5% increase over 6 years (plus cost of living adjustments).
-There are requests from the BCTF on classroom size caps + caps on the number of special needs children in each classroom - I've had a hard time finding firm numbers on that though, so I just raise the point.
-Apparently, there was a strike a couple of years ago which was technically illegal because the government had said teachers didn't have the right to mobilize and strike.  The BC Supreme Court recently ruled that teachers  do  have that right and here we are.
-Job Action began in April with teachers discontinuing duties that fall outside of those for which they are actually contracted including no longer attending meetings called by administration.  That was considered Phase One.  It ramped up 2 weeks ago to Phase Two - rotating strikes.  This meant that for one day each week every school in British Columbia would close.  Now we're bumping up against a vote next Monday/Tuesday by which the teachers will decide whether to escalate the job action to a full strike; translation: in theory, beginning June 16, teachers could walk out and school would be cancelled until there was an agreement between union officials and the government.  The last day of school is supposed to be June 26.
-A government 'lock out' of teachers was imposed - teachers were told they were not allowed to work during certain parts of the day and there was a subsequent reduction in their salaries by 10% [as of May 26] to cover for the lost work time.  This led to the union telling teachers they needed to leave campus during those times for insurance sake.

Here's the fall out I've observed:
-Cancellation of year end field trips for Grade 6 & 7 classes and the ruling of no field trips for anyone after a certain date unless the trips were pre-planned and fell within the guidelines of permissible trips.  And let me tell you - when a Grade 7 student who's waited for their 5-day trip to camp since they started at our school gets told it's cancelled, it's really sad and they're really disappointed.
-Confusion on the part of parents and students.  Teachers aren't supposed to talk with kids about the strike, but are able to talk to parents, I think.  I've had some enlightening conversations with a couple of teachers, anyway.
-Angst among parents who have to scramble for childcare when days off of school pop up and some childcare programs are closed when school is out due to strike for their own reasons (which I don't know so I'm not hypothesizing).  I'm grateful that we're in a position where I'm at home with our kids, though.
-Potential that end of grade report cards won't be written because teachers may only work 45 minutes prior to and 45 minutes after the school day's end and must leave campus during recess and lunch.

Who *I think* gets the shaft:

The kids. 

And I'd also say the parents.  While I've found this entire dance fascinating, it also makes me really, really sad.  My children will potentially miss quite a chunk of their school year because the big people have their heels dug in so deeply that they've essentially picked up all their toys, stormed off the playground and are huddled up in their own camps congratulating themselves on how right they are and how wrong the other side is.  That's sad.  And it's crappy modeling, really, when we are trying to teach our children about healthy conflict resolution.  While I may be really oversimplifying, it seems that the time has come for a good ole family meeting - where someone...even if it's just ONE person...from each side is willing to stick out their neck and say, "Let's come to the table.  Let's figure it out.  Let's both be willing to bend a little."  And maybe that's on the horizon - I don't know.  What I do know is this: we'll be out of school another day next week, tension will continue to be the norm among teachers at school, and there's the potential that next Friday will be our last day of school.  I'll continue to watch this unfold and be fascinated by it and I'll pull out the workbooks I bought at Costco and checkout the Kahn Academy to be sure my kids are ready for the fall [assuming all this gets sorted over the summer before school starts back].  And I'll try with all my might to explain this whole mess to my kids so their faith in grown ups isn't marred - all the while hoping for an amiable end to the situation.  It's interesting stuff, friends, and I find that I'm still a student myself.

The F-Bomb

Every single moment of every single day as a parent, I've decided, humbles and reminds me of how much of a teacher we parents are, whether we like it or not.  This weekend it's been BEAUTIFUL in Vancouver and we've soaked every minute of outside time possible out of it.  For the first time since we arrived, we ventured to Grouse Mountain in hiking clothes instead of skiing clothes.  We traded our helmets for sunscreen and boots for tennis shoes and hit the runs walking normally - realizing that my husband and children really had been zooming down rock face cliffs was quite sobering.  It was important for Philip to venture down The Cut Run as there's one spot each time he skis down that gets under his skin and sends him into fits of self-talk until he reaches the bottom of the run.  There was something spiritual about walking to that very spot and conquering it and then drinking in the views of downtown that aren't visible when the skies are filled with snow clouds.  It was a lovely day.

First patch of snow we encountered - from clearing paths assumedly...

More snow!  My hunch is this was one of the season's jumps on the Cut Run.

King and Queen of the World!

Downtown as seen from The Cut Run

Then - we saw that Lydia's Ski School building transforms into a hub for ecotours and a viewing point for the two Grizzly Bears who make their home at Grouse.  It was amazing really, to be that close to such large creatures, and to actually want to pet these wild animals before you snap back into the reality that they could break you in half.  We walked past the site of the "Magic Carpet" that escorts skiiers to the top of the hill, giving their legs a brief respite from their intense work and observed that it actually sits about 3 feet off the ground - and we watched them dig that strip of moving rubber out of snow while assuming it set right on the ground mere weeks ago.  Down to the chair lift we walked because we saw people riding on that engineering marvel to the top of Grouse Mountain (marketed as the "Peak of Vancouver") and learned that our local's pass gained us a free ride up to the top!  Right about now you're probably thinking we're really lucky to live in a place where chair lifts come with season entry and ski resorts turn into hiking meccas in the Spring and Summer.  My friends - while you're right from a financial standpoint, my heart function respectfully disagrees.

I love my children.  I love my children so much it hurts and so much that it makes me irrational sometimes.  I love my children so much that I walked up to the red square painted on that wooden deck like I was excited and I sat on that moving chair and was off the ground before I ever even knew what had happened.  The piddly little bar that sat across my thighs was supposedly a safeguard against a most painful and grueling death that would happen if I fell out - and I prayed for that death because if I just fell down and broke a lot of bones then I'd be really irritated when normal life got interrupted.  I did OK for the first portion of the trip as we could see the bears' habitat from the lift and I was distracted looking sideways instead of straight up at the near 90 degree angle that lift took to the peak (OK it was really more like a 50 degree angle max, but it may as well have been straight up).  We were reminding the kids of the importance of not swinging the chair and not looingk around too much (so as not to have to look with them or deal with the fact that we were suspended over ground that looks much softer covered in a blanket of snow).  And then it happened.

The Death-Defying Lift

Our chair rolled gently, yet abruptly, to a STOP.  And we were NOT at our destination.  And the mother of all swear words flowed off my tongue as if I were uttering my children's names, calling them to dinner.  Yep - I dropped the F-bomb.  And while I thought it was silent, the deep, soul-tickling laughter that sprung from Henry's mouth made it clear I had betrayed the notion of silence.  And he laughed that deep laugh that I love to hear - except when I'm dangling in a death trap over a rocky surface below.  But I got tickled too - and laughed that nervous laughter that you laugh when you're really not supposed to laugh at all (you know, like during Communion or your child's Christmas concert when another child screams at their teachers) and the tears began flowing.  The good news/bad news of the situation was that the tears prevented my being able to see how far up we were but the laughter made our chair move more than I liked.  Alas - we were at least on our way again.  I finally calmed down enough and hushed Henry from making utterances about the likelihood of our falling, the beauty of the view behind us and such.  Then, I kid you not, the damn chair stopped again and there came that word AGAIN!  Cue laughter, chair movement and tears.

Once we finally started again (after about 3 seconds) and I calmed down again (about 3 minutes), I realized that whoever sat in our little death trap of a chair on the way down might think we greased the pole that sat on our thighs where my hands now sat.  The sweat on my palms was so prolific that a doctor would most certainly examined me for a possible cardiac event.  What seemed like a half hour later (probably more like 6 minutes), we debarked our chair, proclaimed victory to the lift attendant and proceeded to solid ground.  Had I thought the muscles in my legs might have allowed me (you see, they were still seized up in fear) I would have knelt and kissed the ground.  Our children laughed mightily at my fear, and frankly I did too.  Heights never used to bother me - I'm chalking it up to parenting changing my phobias.  Naturally - we walked down the run after admiring the lovely views.  We walked down a path with a warning sign that read: HIKING NOT RECOMMENDED because this path isn't monitored and there's loose stone.  BUT - it was ON. THE. GROUND.  The kids were freaked out by the gravel under their feet but we made them walk - after all - we'd faced our fears and it was their turn.

Views from the top - totally beautiful!

Warning: don't hike here (whatever!)

Once we got down the run, we grabbed a "beavertail" (fried pizza dough dipped in a cinnamon + sugar mix - don't judge - we'd earned it) and settled in for the lumberjack show.  It was a cute show that made us laugh ourselves into a more relaxed state and we headed for home.  The exhaustion set in - Henry slept in the car as we sat in traffic on the Lions Gate Bridge and we fell into the couch after we opened the door.  And suddenly I was alone with my thoughts for a brief moment - and it dawned on me.  I had single-handedly taught my children that when you fear for your life (whether it's rational or not) that the single best weapon you have against that fear is the F-bomb.  Frankly, I'm OK with that - and I'd forgive them for the same transgression if they involuntarily uttered that word under duress.  Now I can also rest easy that they know I'm not perfect - that has been a real tough façade to maintain all these years :)  Carry on, fellow parents - that's what we do - imperfections and all.  Carry on.

Henry's car snooze

A lovely Spring sunset to conjure a peaceful feeling...

Rambo's Easter Tulips

This year, for the first time since becoming a parent, I didn't buy my children Easter outfits.  At first it was freeing not to have to think about finding 'fancy' clothes that both kids agreed to wear and shoes to match and I looked forward to a calm Easter morning in which we all picked out an outfit that was already in our closet before walking to church.  But as Easter inched closer it just felt strange.  While I know Easter isn't about the clothes, there's something about tradition and the grandeur of its celebration that I've known my life that makes that day as special as it really is.  And there's the bustle of that Sunday morning and the flurry that goes along with Easter baskets, candy, eggs, fancy clothes, looking forward to the return of flowers, major key music and an empty cross in the Sanctuary that is alive.  After all - it's about life - the whole lot of it; while we've been figuring out what it looks like to squeeze every ounce of living into our short time in Vancouver, I 'get' this sense of new life in a different way this year.  And our look toward Easter Sunday officially began on Good Friday, but that too looked different this year. 

Maybe it was my quest to fill my need for bright colors and springtime bursting all over that led to our Good Friday 'adventure', but I'm pretty sure the facebook popup ad had more to do with it than anything.  There's a blog here the Miss604 (www.miss604.com) - and it details events throughout the greater Vancouver area.  I was intrigued when the headline 'Vancouver Tulip Festival 2014' came across my news feed and went about looking at our options for a weekend jaunt.  The weather for our four day weekend looked abysmal at first, but when we woke on Friday it was sunny and clear and beautiful.  We knew that Friday was the day to head for the flowers.  After Philip and Lydia made breakfast, I packed a picnic and we were off.  Thanks to Philip's navigational skills I learned that we had about a 1.5 hour drive to the tulips ("Greater" Vancouver is pretty big); we plugged the address into our GPS and headed East.  Having never really explored in this direction I looked forward to our trek through places like Abbotsford, Chilliwack and Harrison.  We followed the computerized voice exactly.  I mean exactly.  She announced we had arrived at our destination just as we came across a wide spot in the road next to what I originally thought was a path.  I thought nothing of it as the website had forewarned that the parking area was 1 km from the tulip fields and we were prepared for a bit of a walk.  Just to be sure this was the place, we drove past it and wound up a little mountain, turned around and came back down to the same wide spot in the road.  There were several cars there as well, so in my head it made sense.  At this point, however, I must reiterate my absolute lack of navigation abilities - I blindly trust the GPS when it comes to trips like this - and today I'm deeply grateful that Philip is infinitely better than I when it comes to directions.

Philip pulled over, got out of the car, walked to a small stand of metal mailboxes (apartment style mailboxes) that were cemented into the ground and found a note: "If you are looking for the tulips, this is not the place.  Here are the directions..."  Well hell's bells.  Sure enough, I plugged the SAME ADDRESS into Google Maps and we were led to a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT place.  Not to worry - we had our bearings now and we were on our way.  We saw a jam of traffic on a street parallel to ours and thought nothing of it.  It appeared we had about 6 km further before our turnoff and we were doing fine.  However, that parallel road veered right and we had to merge with that traffic jam.  At this point, we're past our typical lunchtime, there are no places to get something to drink in sight, we are down to half of one of our bottles of water and there are no bathrooms in sight.  The kids had begun to get antsy and pick at each other and Philip and I were beginning to get testy.  And we found ourselves stuck.  Words became short, tempers flared a bit and we weren't moving.  At all.  We were so still that I got out of the car, walked calmly and slowly to the trunk, pulled out the picnic, walked back to the car and doled out lunch before we moved an inch.  Then we saw some folks turning left as if they knew a secret passage to the 'valley of the tulips' (that's really what it's called) and we decided to give it a go.  We traveled briefly down the road on which we turned left, then turned right and found ourselves stuck smack in another traffic jam - parallel to the first.  And were still 4 km from our turnoff to the elusive valley of the tulips.  So we bagged it; yep - turned around and decided to ride up into the mountains that were close.  On the way we found a gas station, got our sodas (sort of a victory celebration) and never saw a single tulip - not even one.

The mountains were lovely - we hoped to glimpse some tulips from the highway but saw nothing.  We travelled a ways and then headed back west, down the mountain.  Philip and I were bummed about not seeing the tulips - I had built up this idyllic scene in my head in which this would become our new Easter 'thing' - we had packed the good camera and the tripod even.  I had visions of photos of our children frolicking through fields of tulips and a lovely picnic surrounded by the colors and flowers that Spring brings to the lifeless winter landscape.  Hopes dashed.  Our picnic was partially silent in the car with dry throats and taillights creating our ambiance.  Lovely.  The only tulips we saw that day were the ones our lovely neighbor delivered to our door the previous night, the ones outside our building, the ones near on a corner near a Wal-Mart and later, the ones on the way to school.  Harrumph. 

Tulips from our neighbor

Tulips on the way to school

All, however, was not lost.  As luck would have it, nature called just before the exit to Hope, British Columbia.  We stopped at the Visitors' Center and as we walked toward the front door, there was a wooden painted scene with the face cut out so you could take your own photo and 'be' Rambo.  Having never seen that movie it seemed weird to me, but Philip remembered that Rambo had been filmed right here in Hope!  Now to this former church worker the irony of this entire situation was thick.  Here we were in Hope on Good Friday having not seen any flowers - it made me wish I was responsible for sharing a children's story at Fort Hill Presbyterian Church again.  And here I was taking photos of my children posing as Rambo when I had planned to capture their carefree spirits in the tulips.  We dutifully took their photos and drove around the quaint little town planning to return and explore their old railway tunnels once weather permitted that we do so.  We got home, and thanks to Netflix, showed the kids the first little part of the movie so they could see the town on film and Philip and I finished the movie after they went to sleep that night. 

We hunted eggs on Saturday and I remembered fondly last year's egg hunts at Fort Hill - glow sticks in the youth room for older kids on Friday and eggs ALL OVER the Sanctuary for preschoolers on Saturday.  And I thought about the new life that Sanctuary saw with kids running all over it and under pews looking for eggs to trade in for goodie bags.  We went to Central Presbyterian Church on Easter Sunday and sang traditional Easter hymns in our not-brand-new-Easter-ensembles and we came home for lunch.  And I was grateful for this piece of familiarity in this new land; grateful for friends who host such fun events; grateful that my children were able to race with plastic eggs in spoons and marvel at the surprise of finding a quarter in an egg; grateful for bright spaces with springtime flowers hanging on the wall that almost made the rainy day seem sunny.  But I also missed my SC Easter - with its smocked dresses, bowties, seersucker and permission to wear white pants.  I missed my family and the meal we shared after church while the kids got their fancy new church duds grass stained hunting eggs in my parents' backyard.  And I realized how different I feel from Rambo right now - with his survival instincts and strength to conquer any obstacle in front of him.  I realized that right now I don't feel all that strong and that's OK because we've found in each other and in people around us a sense of buoyance and I've been reminded of how great a partner I have in Philip and that neither of us can be or have to be strong all the time.  And that's life-giving.

Egg Relay - thanks Jeff & Sara for hosting! :)

"I FOUND A MONEY!!!!!"

This Easter, I came to understand that while I have much to learn from this new place and new life that I also have something to share - even if it's as simple as a good Southern meal and a good party.  So next year that's what we'll do; we'll cram folks into our little home and there will be ham, green beans, macaroni and cheese (like my grandma's), rolls and maybe even a bunny coconut cake.  And we'll celebrate life - and between now and then this Marcum family will continue to squeeze every ounce of living into our time here so that when we move on from this place we'll take pieces with us that will make our living somewhere else richer still.

The Birds and the Bees - oh my!

This weekend reminded me that this business of raising children is messy.  It's messy for a lot of reasons, but most especially because we don't bring up our children in a vacuum.  And we don't have the power to control every aspect of their life - especially as they grow older.  Our children are now 6 & 9 years old and if you'd asked me 10 years ago how their rearing would play out, my imagining of it would be wildly different than the reality so far.  They are growing into independent, strong, creative, sensitive children who are already into checking their facts - I'm so grateful they don't just take information at face value - even when it makes me nuts that they question me and my assertions.  Alas, we continue on our adventure - them learning how to grow into productive adults and we parents learning how to help foster them into that life.  This weekend, however, served as a reality check for me.  I hesitated to write this post, but this happened.  And it will happen in one way or another for any family no matter the makeup.  So I decided to share this post - for all of us parents are in the same boat as we navigate the uncharted waters of raising children - Lord knows each of them is different and there's no real, set formula that applies to all of them.  What is set is the fact that the little people entrusted to us are gifts and we have to do the best we can to help them grow into the adults they are meant to be.  And so I begin...

Many moons ago, while serving a church near Charleston, SC, I helped teach a class for parents titled "How to Talk with your Kids about the Birds & the Bees" - the irony was that I was not a parent at the time.  But, what I learned in preparing for that class is that it's imperative for us parents to make sure we're the primary sex educators of our children.  After all, the playground, school bus or a buddy's older sibling usually won't have the facts completely straight, so it's up to us to be sure the facts are right and that they're framed within our family's values.  Philip and I take this responsibility very seriously - especially having both a son and a daughter.  We've talked about how we'll handle this sensitive subject making sure that our messages are consistent and that he and I are on the same page before we say anything to the kids.  The other thing that class taught me was that, as parents, we need only answer the questions our kids ask - no need to volunteer extra information - if they want more info, they'll ask.  In that vein, we've told both our children that we'll always answer their questions truthfully and that they are welcome to always ask us anything.  The only qualifier is that sometimes we have to wait until we're home or away from others to have sensitive conversations out of respect for ourselves and other people.  Lastly - what I learned from that class is that children's questions often don't fit our timeline; instead, they fly at us out of left field without us having any sort of preparation and we've got to seize the opportunity for communication, put on our big kid pants, dig in our heels and answer the best we can when they ask.

Preamble finished.

Last year, while Philip was in Port Hardy I was putting a tired Henry to bed and I, too, was worn out and ready to turn off my brain for the night when he piped up, "So mom, what exactly do you do when you have sex?"  Seriously???  Brain back on - and quick.  "Well, Henry, what makes you ask that question?" I asked.  He replied, "Somebody was talking about it on the bus and I want to know what it is."  Hmmmm, "Henry, do you really want to know?"  And he said the one word I didn't want him to say, "Yep."  So I put on my clinical hat, explained the mechanics and closed with the fact that sex is something intended for people who are married and that it's very complex and not to be seen as casual or simple.  Then I started singing our regular bedtime songs, very quickly, so I could catch my breath and stop the talking for a little while.  After all, in my head this scenario would have happened over ice cream with Philip and they would bond and go play golf or something.  Alas - here we were - smack in the middle of 'out of the blue' and when we finished singing he said, "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard in my life."  And I assured him that it was totally OK to think that.

Fast forward to this Saturday.  We'd spent the day on the mountain - the kids and Philip skiing, me spying on them skiing, hiking in snow and reading.  We got home tired, cold and wet.  Kids immediately got showered and into jammies and Philip was on the phone.  While he was catching up about politics, sports and whatever, Lydia sidles up to me and asks, "So mom, have you ever had sex?"  SHUT THE FRONT DOOR - ARE YOU SERIOUS????  YOU'RE SIX!!!!!  But what I said was, "What exactly does that mean?" to which she responded, "I need to tell you in your ear."  Ummm - OK.  She whispered away and she was dead on and I affirmed her understanding followed, naturally, by asking where she'd learned this information.  She told me movies - which I let slide but I knew it was complete hogwash because we watch movies WITH her and knew we hadn't gone there.  Philip and I have super-hero-lightning-quick reflexes even flipping through channels so that we, I can confidently say, have NOT exposed her to these images.  Later she told Philip that she had learned from a friend on the playground...so here we go...  She wouldn't drop it, and asked again [emphatically this time], "But have you done it?"  Well, folks, we have two children... She cackled with laughter and declared that she just had  to tell her brother - which prompted my next speech.  I told her sex was designed for people in married relationships and she wanted to know about the whole baby part so we got into the clinical explanation of how babies are made and that this is a conversation that needs to stay in our family because it's up to families to decide when they have this talk and it's not a school conversation, blah, blah, blah.  All this went down before Philip was finished on the phone.  But - we'd promised our kids to answer their questions truthfully.  Aren't I a lucky girl...just not as lucky as Philip.  He followed up gently on the conversation - it's important to us that our children know we share important information with each other - and that's when we learned about the playground conversation that spawned her initial question.

Sunday morning (the morning after this little chat with Lydia) we woke up and all four of us were sitting at our dining table having breakfast.  One thing I love about our apartment is where our dining table sits - it's toward the corner of the room, nestled between two walls of floor to ceiling windows.  The sunsets are incredible and we have a view of mountains and the sea.  The coveted chair is the one that points directly at the corner of the windows - the one that provides the best view.  Living in a city, specifically in a high rise building, we're surrounded by other high rise buildings - this has never been an issue.  We were talking about our day - preparing to go to church, planning our afternoon, high fiving the kids for finishing their homework on Saturday morning so we didn't have to worry about it - then it all went south.  Henry happened to have the coveted seat this morning (we have to keep track of who's turn it is) and he said - "What's going on over there?"  I glanced and really thought someone was being hurt - there were a couple of people in the hotel next door and they were moving in an odd sort of way in front of the sliding glass door and I was about ready to pick up the phone to call for help.  And then...we all clued in at the same moment...and I raced to our windows to pull the curtains (super-hero reflexes don't apply as well to curtain closing, it seems).  Alas - the damage was done - curtains didn't get closed before the couple disappeared and Philip and I were faced with the fact that now our children had been exposed to full frontal nudity and behaviors that can go with said wardrobe.  I don't know who was more scarred - the kids or me.  But we discussed the importance of modesty and again reiterated the marriage rule and that this wasn't a conversation to have with friends and that this was something other people aren't intended to see.  We went on to church and lunch and then had a great afternoon in the city.  We saw the celebrated cherry blossoms, finished up taxes, walked all over the city and ended up at a half-price appetizer dinner at an outdoor café - yummy.  Then sweet Henry piped up, "I'm still pretty freaked out about what we saw this morning."  Um yea.  "Me too, honey," I told him.  And then the questions started again and Philip and I went with it - answering to best of our ability and praying that the message we're trying to convey is sinking in.

So there you have it folks - the birds and the bees - about as honestly as our family can make them.  God knows it's not easy but I've got to say that I'm glad to be on this side of 'the talk' - at least the first one - and am grateful for the framework our faith creates for this and lots of other difficult conversations.  And I'm grateful it's not just one talk, but that we've started a conversation and our kids feel like they can come to us about anything [regardless of how awkward it makes us feel].  I'm grateful that I don't have to anticipate what it's going to be like when they ask or when we sit them down to tell them because we've gotten past that.  Turns out, 'the talk' pairs well with chicken wings, short ribs and a big ole beer for mama and daddy.  I'm deeply grateful to have Philip as my partner, with whom I can team up for these conversations.  And we can honestly say that we've embraced the call to be our kids' primary educators - in this realm, and hopefully all other ones too.