Cute when they're asleep

Let me tell you a little bit about my dear, sweet Alexa today.

During my shower, she got into my alphabet beads and dumped them all over the couch, except for the ones that she put in her mouth. Also, she stole a chocolate from Nik, and apparently used it for a full body skin treatment, so I gave her a bath. She pooped in it.

When I took her out of the bath, she ran down the hall and pulled the hurricane lamp off of the record player. Tiny gravel everywhere.

She pulled half of the books off of the kids shelf.

She emptied half a dozen puzzles and bucket of peg board pegs onto the floor.

During lunch, she tried to eat her piece of pizza by pulling off the toppings, picking up her plate with the pizza on it, tomato sauce exposed, and smooshing the plate into her face.

She is just down for a nap, now.


Sleeeeep, baby. Sleeeep.

A bit of earth

Our teeny veggie garden

"Might I," quavered Mary, "might I have a bit of earth?"

In her eagerness she did not realize how queer the words would sound and that they were not the ones she had meant to say. Mr. Craven looked quite startled.

"Earth!" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

"To plant seeds in--to make things grow--to see them come alive," Mary faltered.

from 'The Secret Garden' by Frances Hodges Burnett

Our apartment bedroom

When I got pregnant with Nik, we were living in a third floor walk up apartment a block from the train tracks, in an inexpensive area of town. We liked the apartment, with its two bedrooms, tiny kitchen and plethora of closets. It was the perfect place for newlyweds. But when the time came to start adding to our family, we started house shopping. Not for the space, so much. Our bedrooms in our house are actually smaller than the ones we had in the apartment. And not even because a mortgage seemed smarter than paying rent, although that was a factor. No, the real reason we looked for a house right then, is because I couldn't imagine raising a child without a backyard.

Until I was ten, my family lived in a one-and-a-half storey house, with a white fence and a blue shed. We had yard on all sides of our house, which seems so uncommon, now. In the front yard, we had a big and bumpy stone step that led up to the front door, flanked by two flower gardens, and one large elm tree. On one side of the house we had a sidewalk that led back and around to the back door, and on the other side, there was another tree with a tire swing, just outside the kitchen window. Our backyard was home to a vegetable garden pushed up next to a fence, a gravel driveway, the shed, a large sandbox, a birch tree and an old, green, metal swing set with two swings, a hanging teeter totter, and a slide that got blazing hot in the summer. We also had an old fashioned clothesline strung above the wooden picnic table that sat on our patio. In reality, I know that our yard was small and crowded. But in my childhood mind's eye it is spacious and full of possibility.

I remember the buttercups that grew through the stones in the driveway. I remember hanging from the cross bar on the 'A' that made up the side of the swing set. I remember my brother climbing the fence and the wood pile to get to the roof of the shed, and then watching him throw his plane off the top. I remember walking on the bricks that bordered the flower garden, digging in the black earth of the vegetable garden to find worms, and climbing the trees.

So how could I even entertain the idea of having kids of my own, and raising them without a backyard?

It took us a little while to find a house. In a seller's market, it is so common to bid on a house, just once, and be outbid by someone else, and there goes your chance. We bid four times, got outbid four times. It was discouraging, but, fifth time was a charm for us, and before Nik was born, we were moving in. In the following months, we painted and renovated and welcomed in our freshly born baby boy. A home of our own.

That first summer, we did not go outside much. Nik was fussy, and didn't like to be hot. if I went outside with him, he would usually squint in the sun and complain. If I left him on his own for a bit to pull weeds or what have you, he complained. We used the backyard a handful of times, for a BBQ or fire, maybe to splash in the wading pool for a bit, but... We weren't exactly living out there.

First time in the backyard wading pool

The next summer I had returned to work half-time, and so there was even less time to spend outside. Those days that we did go outside, it was usually to walk to a park, or down to the library, or to my grandparent's apartment building for tea. And last year, IT RAINED. And rained. And rained. Nice days that happened to coincide with my days off from work were spent again at the park or nearby wading pool. We did manage to put in a vegetable garden, but it was largely ignored. It certainly didn't need watering!

This year was finally different. Nik is three, now, and so much more capable of playing. Thanks to my second maternity leave, I am home so much more, so we can take advantage of all the nice weather days, and this summer there have been many of them. It has been dry and hot, so the garden has needed watering, prompting me to get out there, and weed and putter around. My dad and brother surprised us at the beginning of the summer with the gift of a small wooden swing set - a green slide and two swings.

And Alexa is such a happy baby, content to be left to roll around on a blanket in the backyard.


We have a small backyard, with a rickety wooden fence. It is crowded with a tiny patio, sandbox, swing set, vegetable garden. My mom could have said the same thing about my own childhood home. But seen through my son's eyes, I can tell it is different. It is a place to run, to catch grasshoppers and frogs, to roast marshmallows and to swing up to the sky.

It is spacious, and full of possibility.

Nik-in-the-Box

I have long believed that simple toys are the best toys. Toys with little detail, and no batteries, leave the most room for the child to invent, and the play they inspire is open-ended, engaging the mind and expanding the imagination. And what could be simpler than a cardboard box?

In preparation for an upcoming roadtrip, we recently bought our quickly-growing Nik a new car seat, and he fell in love with the box. When he insisting on moving his pillow and blanket into the box that first night, to sleep like a little homeless person, I thought, "Here is the ultimate thrifty summer project." Even though our most recent painting project likely took a year off of my life, I decided to break out the paints again, and Nik and I spent a fantastic morning transforming his box into the perfect portable summer hideaway.

Again, like previous tutorials, this is something you could probably figure out all on your lonesome, but maybe seeing it will inspire your own project, for your own thrifty fun.

Adult prep:
Start with a box. Any large box will do, but white boxes are nice. This was ours.
Drag said box onto some sort of paint safe surface. You could do this project outside, if it weren't too windy or wet. We did ours in the kitchen, on top of flyers, taped to the floor with masking tape.
Next step is to prep the box for decoration. My box had a colour glossy print of the car seat on one side that I peeled off. The other sides were printed with orange and blue ink.

This is gesso. I bought it at Hobby Lobby when I was going through an art journalling/altered book phase, inspired by Kelly Rae Roberts and Sabrina Ward Harrison. It is basically a primer that you can apply to any surface to ready it for paint. Think of it as white wash for your box. It dries quickly.

Voila! A mostly white box.

Take a craft knife and cut some windows into your box, prior to painting. You can do any shape, or even cut so that the windows have shutters that open. I used some bowls and plates to mark circles onto my box with a marker, and then cut them out.


Now, you need to gather some paints and whatever you will be using to apply the paints to your box. We had an assortment of brushes, and a large collection of foam stamps that I have amassed for card making.


You are now ready to unleash your little artist! Mine was playing computer while I was getting everything out, and was surprised and happy to walk into the kitchen and find an inviting art project waiting for him.
Decked out in a painting t-shirt of Daddy's, he went to town on the box.

Painting is very serious work.

Keep painting until the box is covered, or your child gets bored, or your other child gets tired of sitting in the bouncy seat and just wants to get nursed already, darn it. Or all three. We finished off with a couple of handprints on the 'floor' of the box, and then it was into the bath for the three year old, while I cleaned up the kitchen. The box was banished for a few hours until it was completely dry, but since coming back not a day has passed that it has been ignored.


It has been climbed in, filled up, turned over, peeked through and shown off. It has been a house, a hiding spot, a rocket ship. A box + paint + a morning's worth of time = thrifty goodness of childhood.

If you love the idea of boxes as open ended play, you'll love this book, by Antoinette Portis.

This post is participating in ON{the laundry}LINE's thrifty summertime link party. Click on through for more fun!

Carny goodness

What is it about festivals? They inspire the masses to come out of their houses, and meet in the street. To listen to music they would never otherwise listen to. To eat food they would never otherwise eat. Yesterday, I saw teenagers standing around listening to bluegrass gospel music. I saw tables full of seniors eating soft serve ice cream and families gathered happily around greasy paper bags full of soggy french fries.


At the midway, we stand in line to buy tickets so we can stand in line again to ride something mechanical for 90 seconds. We shout over loud speakers blasting crackly versions of Ozzy Osborne songs. We pay $3 for a chance to win a made in China stuffed toy worth 10 cents. We are collectively impractical. And it is so much fun.

Yesterday was the first day of my community's annual street festival, the Hi Neighbour Festival. Like last year, and the year before that, we left the house on foot and walked 20 blocks to arrive at the center of the action. But this year also had it's firsts. This was the first time Alexa was with us. It was also the first time Nik was old enough to ride the midway rides, and request his own balloon animal from a colourful and friendly clown.
We ran into friends at the festival, too. One of my La Leche League leaders was there, with her son, growing like a weed. I also spotted a few kids from last year's Vacation Bible School, taller than I remembered.
These annual community events mark the passage of time as much as any season change, any birthday. With the arrival of another festival, we welcome the beginning of another summer. Amidst the colours, and the noise and the crowds, there is an energy. We are a community vibrant for another year together.

Nik as "Hi Neighbour Sam"

Brother Bear

In the early Berenstein Bear books, there were only 3 in the Bear family: Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Small Bear. In "The New Baby", Small Bear makes his transition to Brother Bear. I love that his name changes, because it shows the significance of that birth in his life. His whole identity is affected.

Nik is definitely feeling the changes since Alexa has arrived. One of his new favourite games, pictured above, is to climb into her crib, sit in the baby bathtub with her new tummy time quilt, and play with the mobile. I'm not making a big deal out of it. He deserves to be able to say goodbye to Small Bear in his own way.

I have been lucky, actually, that his sleeping and bathroom habits have remained virtually unchanged since baby has been on the scene. I was prepared for a certain amount of regression, but so far, things have been good, and we are nearly at the 2 week mark. I was also wondering if he would be jealous of all the nursing, since he really only recently was completely weaned. It seems to be not a problem, though he does covet the lap time. "You put her on the couch, and I will sit in your lap," he says. Usually I will. After a quick cuddle, he is back to his own thing. Just checking, I guess.

His behaviour is another story. More whining, more boundary pushing, more rudeness in general. It is hard to know how much to ignore, and how much to respond to, and what response is appropriate. Does he need more understanding? More discipline? More attention? The most obvious increase is in bossy behaviour. I am guessing he is trying to control more to alleviate anxiety, but it is hard to remember that when he stomps into the room demanding another video, or computer time, or more chocolate milk in such-and-such specific cup. Unfortunately, my patience runs thinner and he gets crabbier as the day runs on.

Mornings are good. Alexa is happiest after a night's sleep, and will consent to being put down. I can get some housework done, which satisfies my need to accomplish. And Nik is calmer, easier.

The photo below was taken this morning. Happy, bright-eyed kids, snuggled in jammies in the morning light. This is what I want to remember from these first weeks.

The sweet beginnings of Brother Bear and Sister Bear.

Merry little Christmas

The tree is up. The wrapping is done. I have a huge pot of Christmas Eve dinner borscht in the fridge, and the cards have all been sent. We are off to my parent's house for the major gift opening this afternoon, so come 2 o'clock Christmas will be here. But for now I am happy to be sitting by my laptop cuddled up in my robe, with my hair still damp from the shower.

Nik is watching 'Mary Poppins' in the next room, eating cheezies in his pajama top and underpants. On the floor can be found the contents of the couple of presents we let him open last night. Little things like toy cars and new books. Nothing needs batteries.

I got my Christmas present from my husband last night. A couple of new CDs, a small teapot, and clothes that don't fit... ;-) Looks like we will be braving the after-Christmas mall exchanges crowd once again. From me he got a new digital watch and a game. Actually, I gave him the game a few weeks ago after Nik saw the same one in a flyer, and told him, "Daddy? We have that game. That game is hiding." No surprises when a 3 year old is in on the secret, I guess. :-)

Christmas is quieter for us this year. About a week ago, I entered that stage of pregnancy when running up and down the stairs starts to seem like a major undertaking. Walking down the hall to put something away requires a cool-down and a 5 minute breather. Unloading and reloading the dishwasher may be the most productive part of my day. So there has been more sitting, more reading, more knitting. More cups of tea and movies. And much less decorating. No baking. No Christmas letter.

Nik did get to see Santa, but it was because my sister took him. He will be recieving a mountain of presents from extended family, but at home there will be only his stocking on Christmas morning. We are going to two Christmas dinners, at beautifully decorated homes. I am bringing the borscht, and the mashed potatoes. We seem to have found a balance between festivity and simplicity.

It has helped me to see the blessing of family and friends even clearer. We don't have to do it all to have it all. So often I am grateful that is not left to my husband and I to provide all the trappings of Nik's childhood, or even of our own lives. Over the years we have received so much, from cups of coffee and conversation, to money to help up pay for our wedding or first home. Children's toys, clothing and books, baby equipment, computer parts, meals, lodging... even air fare has been given to us. People have shoveled our driveway, mowed our lawn, washed our dishes, and folded our laundry. I think of where we would be without the helping hands of those around us, and I can't believe how much I so often take for granted. How much poorer we would be without them, in all ways. How much less we would be able to offer to our son.

But with our lives enriched by the generosity of others, we have easily found our way to another merry little Christmas. Wishing each of you the same.

Love me, Love my Winnipeg

Portage Avenue

This is where I was born and raised. This is where I went to school and to University. Here I had my first job, my first love, my first child. This is where I was married, and it is where I hope to be buried. This, my friends, is home.

I have read that at some point in your growing up years, you look around at what you see, and that is what you love for the rest of your life. This must be the case with me. Raised on the flat, flat prairie, next to a dirty river, in middle class neighbourhoods in gritty city bursting with culture, history and character, that is what I know, and that it what I love.

I have been other places. One summer we took 3 trips out to the Fraser Vallery area of British Columbia, an area that my fellow Winnipeggers talk about wistfully, far more glamourous than our home. Full of tall, lush evergreens, rolling hills and mountain ranges... I missed the sun. Even on days when was not raining the sky there seemed smaller. They took me to the ocean. Twice. Both times I could see land on the other side of the water - Vancouver Island. I missed Lake Winnipeg at home, where you can look out over the blue-green water, and see dots of green islands, canoes, loons, and the flat watery horizon. I like flat.

Prairie land is the way everyone wants their land, you know, even if they don't realize it themselves. Even if they deny it with their dying breath! When you build a house, or a store, or even a parking lot, what do you do to the land, to the floors? Level. Even. Flat. As people build their hallways, so we build our roads on the prairies. As people build their rooms, so we build our pasturelands.

Now, of course, I never grew up out on the prairie land myself, but flat landers in the city have advantages, too. Cycling is much easier without the pesky up and down that other communities have to deal with. And on a clear day, you can see from the edges of the city, straight to the skyscrapers downtown, with nothing to obstruct your view. Seeing the buildings rise up out of the earth like that is like looking at the Emerald City, without the sparkle. We in Winnipeg have very little sparkle.

And that is another thing about home. I am an oddity in Winnipeg in that I love this place, and want to tell other people how great it is. Most people from Winnipeg are quiet about their city. There is no arrogance here, no bragging about our origins when we are in other North American cities or abroad. When people from exotic locales move here, we are always surprised. When young people pack their bags for Toronto, Calgary or Vancouver, we are not. We are not the jet set here. Fast-paced, glittery, brand-name lives await you in a city other than this.

In Winnipeg, most of us are content to just live out our lives, working for a living, keeping in touch with old friends, maybe raising a little family. We bundle up in the winter and go camping in the summer. We coupon clip and go out for dinner once and a while and try to make ends meet. When we can afford it, we get out to the festivals, and concerts and performances nearby and sing and laugh and drink with friends. We extend a hand to our neighbour when he needs it. We talk about the weather.

We are ordinary people in an ordinary place. But don't be fooled. There are treasures here and around this place, and although they may attract little more than a handful of tourists, they are an enrichment to those of us who live here. I look forward to sharing many of them with you in upcoming posts. Because I love this place. It is part of me. Love me, love my Winnipeg.

St. Boniface Hospital by the Red River on a cold, cold night.