Birthday fun

Will is the only middle-of-the-summer baby in the whole family, cousins included. So I often find myself feeling a little bad for him that he hasn't yet gotten the family party experience that comes with lots of little friends and cousins and grandparents and aunts and uncles and the whole sha-bang. However, we have tried to do something fun around his birthday to celebrate our fun little guy in order to make up for our displaced-ness. Last year we did his first water park and the Canadian Children's Museum in Ottawa, and this year we did a nature playground and the Winnipeg zoo.

 Our Samsam taking notes on the polar bears. 

"See Mum they're not fat, they're just fluffy"

 Amongst many other animals the polar bear tunnel was the definite highlight of the day!

 "Dinosaur scary"

The dinosaurs were a bit of a shock to Will I think. Especially when they moved and started to make noise!

We met up with friends who have the most amazing little red haired (sorry Elliot - orange!) girl who gets along wonderfully with our boys. Will and Elliot were quickly taking off down the zoo paths much faster than we tired parents cared to chase after, so we opted for voice recalls instead (I am more and more noticing similarities between toddler training and puppy training - is that awful of me? We enjoyed the day immensely, complete with pizza and ice cream cake.

Being displaced from home is definitely not always easy, and there plenty of other football mamas out there that I know understand. And so many other occupations that have even crazier schedules (one of the first things people ask when they hear how much we move is if we're army - I can't remotely imagine how crazy that must be). But we make the best of our surroundings and despite my hermit tendencies we do get out now and then to have a little fun.

Until everyone is screaming at the end of the busy and then it's a quick off-to-bed-you're-driving-me-crazy ;)

(I guess that's how you know it was a really good day!)

Summer #3

This is the third summer now of moving back and forth. Living in sparsely furnished houses, without the vast majority of our own things. I don't have anything new to say about it really. A new city to explore this year which I am stubbornly resisting learning how to navigate. The usual.

I feel the more children I have and the more often I go through this the less energy I have to care, or to put into trying new things. It's a terrible attitude, I'm well aware. But I am a home body. I am a creature of habit if there ever was one. I like routine. I like the same places and the same things. I like knowing what I'm doing and being comfortable doing it. I like being home. I like knowing where all my stuff is, and the days of having all our own things readily available, building flowerbeds and gardens and driveways and horse sheds seem far behind us.

I sound awful boring, don't worry, I'm well aware. 

The kids of course adjust much better than myself. Give them some room outside to play, some goldfish crackers, and some Paw Patrol and I'm pretty sure they'd happily live anywhere. We have a little 5$ blowup pool from walmart that they happily splash in all afternoon long, they don't need much, despite me sitting here looking at play structures and swing sets on pinterest. I hope I'm doing alright with them. I do try now and then, I really do. They seem pretty happy most of the times anyway.

Birthday "happy cakes" to celebrate our William

I sit and dream sometimes of things we will do when "real life" starts, and I need to slow down and remind myself that this is real life. Right now. The babies are growing and football is exciting and these moment won't happen again. Days filled with land developing and fence building and flower bed tending, they'll happen again.

Deep Breaths

Sometimes I find myself needing to stop, and take a deep breath, and to remind myself that I am still me.

I am still me in there. Somewhere. Somewhere underneath the angry mom voice, the snot cleaning, the butt wiping, the refereeing, the breast feeding, the toddler feeding (or failure of)...  And it is in these moments of all three children crying at me for whatever reason, that I need to stop. To slow down the chaos in my head that all of them needing something from me at the exact same time creates. When I am overrun by the feeling of becoming the cranky, frumpy, yelling, angry mom, I need to stop. And remember that I am still me.

I adore these boys. I adore that I get to hang out with them all day, I would be beyond jealous if anyone else got to. I adore and admire how Will is the biggest sweetheart I have ever met, and despite how emotional he can be, I know he gets that from me, because he comes and strokes my face softly when I am sad and emotional. I adore how Sam is still such a squishy little cuddler, my own personal teddy bear. And I adore how Ben gazes at me while he nurses and if I look back he loses focus on the task at hand and just smiles and giggles at me. Things take much longer to accomplish but goodness I wouldn't have it any other way. I have time.

I have become a mother, yes, right down to the deepest and darkest parts of my soul. And I so love it, and I wouldn't change it for the world. But I have to remind myself that I am still me in there. I still have my own personality. I can still be funny and silly and just as goofy as these hilarious boys of mine. I do not just need to only be stressed and worried and frazzled about my kids all the time, about getting things done, about schedules and eating and sleeping and cleaning. I am allowed to have other thoughts creep into my mind. I am still allowed to have my own interests that don't have to revolve around what's the next activity to do to keep my children busy.

And if some days the tv is on more than it should be, if Cinderella runs through a second time (goodness they love Cinderella), so I have a bit more opportunity to do something I want to do, to sit, to read, to journal, to drink my coffee while it's still hot... That's ok. And I don't need to beat myself up or wallow in guilt over that.
Because I'm allowed to still be me.

A Confession: I have a (little) dream

Am I allowed to have dreams and aspirations as a mama? It almost feels like during these young years of my children's life I shouldn't.

But I do.

I have been knitting. And knitting. And knitting. And people tell me I should sell some of my stuff, and here's my confession:

I want to.

First of all, I really enjoy doing it. Second of all, it's not exactly a cheap hobby and would be nice if it started paying back even a little. And third, it appears my living room is starting to drown under pom pom toques that really deserve a home.

I have been struggling however with mixed feelings on the whole endeavor. Do I really have enough time to do this? What if I invest a bunch of time and money and nothing really comes of it? (I guess in that case everyone can just expect knitwear gifts from me for the next 20 years). Should I be dedicating this time to my family instead?

I'm feeling it hard as a mama to know how much time to give to myself. You're told it's important to do. You yearn for it. But the other day I got out of the house for an hour to go to Starbucks to enjoy a coffee and work on some patterns, and pretty much as soon as I sat down with my pumpkin spice latte, I missed my boys. I missed my husband. The freedom felt nice yes, but at the same time I missed my men. Talk about inner conflict.

They clearly suffer without me. 

Keith sent me this adorable picture of Sam while they were at the park and I was enjoying alone-coffee-time. How am I not supposed to miss them?!

All the same though, I would like to try this little dream of mine on for size. It appears to have become a little passion project of mine, and nothing beats doing something for the joy of doing it right? I'm gladly taking all knitting requests (littlespruceknits@gmail.com) and hope to officially open little spruce knits ↟ on etsy soon!
 

Shameless plug: you can keep up with my knitting adventure pictures on Instagram @littlespruceknits

stay warm. stay cozy.

xx

Anna

Things To Talk About

I almost began this post by saying "I wish I had more things to talk about than motherhood".

But really, I don't.

I like talking about my kids. I like talking about your kids. My life, like that of so many other mamas, revolves around my children. I know it's nice to remember your sense of self sometimes, to still feel like you, and I still get those snippets now and then; but realistically, when things come down to it, these tiny humans of mine are what my world spin 'round. And are often pretty much all I have to talk about.

Yes I go to a football game now and then. Yes there is a running list of projects I'd like to get done once we're back home at our cabin. But really, the vast majority of my days are spent watching Will like a hawk, trying to determine whether or not he needs to get put on the potty, and smiling at Sam as he sits on the floor blowing spit bubbles and dancing with his rolly little arms. Many days are spent with cheers for successful toilet trips, baby giggles, clapping to the guitar, big toddler hugs, squishy baby hugs, and peaceful naps. There are also plenty of days where I try to hide in the dining room, searching my bible and my coffee cup for patience and grace, days where I cry at the foot of our bed, days of screaming and crying and teething and cleaning poopy underwear. Days where bedtime just can't come fast enough. Days where I vent my frustrations on my husband. Days where when all is said and done I just really want a glass of wine, but oh look, I'm pregnant again, so I pull out a bucket of ice cream instead.

These babies of mine are beautiful and perfect and healthy and strong and silly and tempermental and dramatic and everything else that small children should be. And my life is consumed by them, and I'm blessed to be able to say that. So when I look at it in all honesty, the majority of the time there isn't much else I can contribute to conversation right now.

And that's alright.

Life in Gatineau

We are back in Gatineau.

After a brief stint in downtown Ottawa, we are now back in the wilderness of Gatineau, which feels much more our "style". A big yard for Will to run around wildly. A full house for us to be as noisy and stompy as we want, and windows that we leave open all day and hear the birds singing from sun up to sun down.

Football has started up again. I wonder sometimes how we got into this strange life. I would have never in my wildest dreams imagined that we would be moving across the country twice a year. How uprooted we would feel. How it would so impact my heart. We now at least have our cabin in Alberta as an anchor for our wandering souls. And know that no matter what we have a little 800 square feet to call our own and go back to, regardless of where we are for such a large chunk of our year. It provides a reassurance that I can't begin to describe.

I try my best to keep in mind that "home is where ever I'm with you". You being my husband, and our two darling boys. And as long as we are together, that is the most important thing.

This week I was reading Psalms after supper with Will, and we came across Psalm 46:10...

"Be still, and know that I am God"

After a particularly trying and turbulent week, I feel like my soul needed this. It's funny how those verses always seem to come at the right time.