Happy 18th Baby Girl

Of parenting, Gretchen Rubin said, “The days are long but the years are short.” This was a guiding principle for me when my kids were young. Now that they are both teenagers, I find the days to be as short as the years. Once they were out of the preschool season, time seemed to speed up, like it was set to fast forward.

Now Ava is about to turn 18. I’ve been sad about it since September, when I found a new counsellor to work with as I attempt to prepare for her to move out of our house. It takes me a long time to manage change. When she leaves for university in late August, I want to be past my own complicated feelings and into excitement for her as she launches into her own life. I can glimpse this possibility, but I’m not there yet, so I’m glad I started a year in advance.

All I know for sure right now is that I will really, really miss her. We all will. On the weekends, I listen to her and William laughing from the basement as they play Jedi: Fallen Order on his Xbox. Each interaction with Ava feels more precious now. Sharper, more defined, and meaningful. Our house will have a gaping hole in it when she’s not here every day. I find it really hard to even imagine.

At the same time, because life is endlessly complicated and nuanced, I’m thrilled to see Ava inching into her own independence. It’s an exciting time, with university acceptances and academic excellence scholarships and a new driver’s license and a sneaking sense of pride that maybe we haven’t done too badly after all in raising her. My best friend’s mom always said that the goal of parenting is to take a dependent baby and turn them into an independent adult. By that measure, I’m incredibly proud of Ava on this milestone 18th birthday.

She’s fun, warm, smart, responsible, goofy and empathetic. Our lives are so much better because she’s in them. I try to remind myself that she’s not going into outer space, only to university, but it’s still a massive sea change for our family. And I know that many other families have done this and survived it, but thinking about your child moving out one day in the future and walking through it are two different things. But we are right on the edge of this change, peering out at it, and I feel so many things at once.

You are so loved, baby girl. Watch out, world. Ava’s finishing up grade twelve, in this never-ending groundhog day pandemic, and then she’s jumping into her adult life with intense enthusiasm and spirit. It will be a fascinating adventure, and we are here for you always. Happy 18th birthday!

Recalibrate

Recalibrate

My word for the summer has been recalibrate. Not in any scientific form, but a subtle yet intentional change to the way I function in the world.

The greatest aspect of this particular recalibration has been the decision to step back and allow the process to unfold organically. In previous versions of my self development, I’ve tended to force, cajole, urge and shame my change into being. I wanted it done now, dammit, and a specific way.

Not this summer. I felt inspired by a Facebook post from my friend in late June that said, “You have 18 summers with your kids. Don’t waste them.” I took these words to heart. I stopped looking at leisure time as wasted time. I mixed work with play and I felt a lot more relaxed and content.

This recalibration took the form of my general attitude shifting from something set into something more fluid. I tried to take things as they happened, as opposed to forecasting and planning too far into the future. I wrote in my journal a lot, without trying to be fancy or inspired. I just recorded what I was feeling and this practice helped me to slow down internally.

I’ve realized that the process of querying agents and facing a ton of rejection has tampered down my capacity to take risks and to write for the sheer joy of telling a story without thinking about whether or not that work can be published. I’ve just begun two university courses for the fall and both are centred on writing. I’m determined to challenge myself to grow in these courses and not expect that I’ll be the most stellar writer in the class.

Hopefully my spiritual recalibration this summer will offer me a fresh dose of grace and gentleness toward the writing that I do. In this season, I hope to simply be a better version of myself and write from that place with lowered expectations for jaw-dropping genius and a place on the New York Times Bestseller List.

One of my words for 2018 was enough. I can see how this word has been working on me over the last few months. I am enough, just as I am, and so are you. It’s easy to get stuck in a pattern of proving our worth, but this striving brings pain, shame and loss. Feeling like we are enough is a challenge, but it’s well worth the effort.

Part of recalibrating my attitude involves surrendering once again to the flow of this life. Forcing my hoped-for expectations on myself or others or situations is a fool’s errand. I long to swim with the current and not against it. Take it one day at a time, as the recovery movement teaches. Anything else is too uncertain and fraught with peril.

What we have is now. We have the people we love most. We have our own deep well of personality to excavate and mine. We have the chance for contentment, hope and peace. We have kindness, shown first to our fragile selves and then to the world around us. My soul recalibration this summer has given me a fresh perspective on all of these things. Knowing I am enough is a daily battle, but I will fight it, for these moments are precious ones and I want to be fully awake to experience them.

Essential Ingredients for a Thriving Marriage

Essential Ingredients for a Thriving Marriage

Anyone can be married, but to build a thriving, healthy, considerate give-and-take relationship takes constant effort and is a rare commodity in this world.

I’m immensely grateful for the marriage Jason and I have created over the last nineteen years. He is celebrating his 40th birthday this week and it felt like a good time to reflect on the ingredients that have made our marriage successful and satisfying.

Since my kids were little, I’ve hammered home the personality traits they should prioritize above all else when it comes time for them to decide on a marriage partner. The two essential qualities I’ve urged them to seek are kindness and a sense of humour.

Without a doubt, these two ingredients have been huge factors in the overall quality of our marriage. We both make each other laugh, every single day or pretty damn close, and a good laugh can help you get through the petty grievances of life. When you are truly relaxed with another person, accepted for your true self, it becomes easier to crack them up or to giggle yourself over stupid little things that might not be funny to anyone else.

Like humour, kindness greases the gears of the mundane to make every interaction more pleasant and enjoyable. It’s a worthwhile goal to treat your spouse with as much courtesy as possible, even if you might be irritated by them, for this politeness goes a long way in softening the atmosphere around you.

When Jason and I choose to be kind to each other above all else, intentionally curbing biting sarcasm or rude insults, we literally change the air around us and create a happy living environment daily for us and for our kids (not to mention friends and extended family and even strangers).

The other secret to our marriage is a willingness to grow and change. We offer each other permission to become the truest, most authentic versions of ourselves. When we are peacefully existing without disguises (or at least inching closer to this desire every day), bravely allowing our most vulnerable selves to be seen, we tend to evolve in a similar direction together.

We are still individuals, growing and changing separately, but our shared goals are more easily aligned and we are like unique flowers bending toward the same sun.

Being married to Jason has been the best experience of my life, without question. Saying yes when he asked me to marry him was the single decision that radically improved the course and trajectory of my life. I’m so proud of the quality of our family that we’ve built as a team. We are not simply existing in the same house together, but rather crafting a life with intentionality, purpose, forgiveness, laughter, kindness and loving care.

Happy 40th, my love. Here’s to a future that only burns brighter.

Be Bold for Change

Be Bold for Change

Wednesday, March 8th is International Women’s Day and the theme for 2017 is Be Bold for Change. My almost 14-year-old daughter Ava spent time this weekend creating a poster for her school for this important day. The slogan she came up with? I’d rather shatter a glass ceiling than fit into a glass slipper.

BOOM. I’m so proud to be her mother. Frankly, I’m pissed right off that we are still talking about how women should be paid the same as men and receive the same basic human rights as men. We are 17 years into a new millennium, and yet as a world we continue to struggle when it comes to equality, inclusivity and justice for those who did not happen to be born as white men.

This year, I plan to be bold. And when my courage falters, I will look to Ava and her friends, for they will carry this torch on far beyond me. They will not accept the double standard that I’ve seen far too often. They will speak up and be bold and call out the hypocrisy they witness. I’m convinced they will finally get us a fairer world.

Women have issued a challenge on Wednesday to go on strike, in an effort to prove that a Day Without a Woman has a huge impact. I’m all for this concept. I hope it works. As a continuation of the global outcry after the U.S. inauguration that resulted in enormous women’s marches in cities all around the world, I’d love to see this strike concept fly.

But I also know that real, lasting change comes slowly and it starts in individual hearts. Rob Bell recently spoke about the need for a counter narrative to unite those marching and protesting. This message struck a resonant chord for me. What is our counter narrative?

It has to centre on love and peace, the way the women’s march did. But it also needs a bit of fire and boldness to it, like this strike is calling for. I’m grateful that smarter people than me are involved in these matters. Something is crying out in my heart and I don’t yet know exactly what it is.

When I watched Ava hunched over her poster in her bedroom, I felt like weeping. From pride but also an intense grief, that this world is such a damn broken mess for her. I yearn for beauty, kindness, understanding, intelligent discourse, friendship and acceptance. And yet what we are mired in this year is anger, misogyny, racism, cruelty, ignorance and bitter division. I want to believe we are better than this.

Let it begin with me. All change comes from this place. We do not see the world as it is, we see it how we are. So I must be love, peace, gender equality, authenticity and warmth. I must choose hope in spite of my fear and sadness. I must seek out light, for a few brave candles can light up the darkest night. Now is the time to believe that goodness will prevail, especially when we see little evidence of it.

This Wednesday, let’s reach out to one another and say, “I see you and I support you.” Let’s be generous with our kind words and our smiles. Let’s be bold for change and shatter glass ceilings instead of slippers. Let’s do it together, for as a group we are more powerful and effective. Let’s build our counter narrative. We were born for such a time as this.

Why the Women’s March Matters

Why the Women’s March Matters

The Women’s March matters because now is the time to wake up and fight for what we all deserve: basic human rights of equality, respect and dignity. 

I floated the idea of attending the Women’s March in Vancouver on January 21st to my husband and kids in a somewhat lacklustre manner. I said, “I’d really like to attend this march because I think it’s critically important to stand up for what I believe is right, but I also want to sleep in on Saturday.”

My thirteen-year-old daughter, who is a feminist through and through, immediately responded, “I’m in. Let’s go.” My husband said the same thing. My plans to sleep in were jettisoned in favour of a momentous cultural moment. I’m so grateful for their positive response to this idea, for I needed the kick in the ass to move beyond what I say to what I’m willing to show up for and be a part of.

The time has come to stop hoping for change and to instead become that change. It’s not enough to sit by and be silent. Many women have taken that path throughout history, for a lot of different reasons, but now, in 2017, we’ve come too damn far to stay quiet now.

For the first time since the U.S. election, I felt optimistic again while I was marching. I felt powerful, like what I want is achievable if I’ve got the guts to go for it. I will not say nothing and passively watch our culture slide further to the right into an outdated and unfairly oppressive system of patriarchy.

Women and minorities are powerful when we join together and say, “No more of this. We are valuable and important and we have voices that we aren’t afraid to use.” Sure, it might make some people uncomfortable. So what? The spirit of the Women’s Marches around the globe was one of power, peace and unity. I could feel it in my bones in Vancouver. It woke something up that was too afraid to come out into the light before.

I watched Ava’s face as we walked, chanted, read signs, laughed, linked arms and participated. Her features were lit up, fierce, on fire, alive and alert. It was beautiful. I felt the surging energy of the crowd, passionate enough to show up early on a drizzly Saturday morning in the tens of thousands to say, “We are here. We matter. We will not be ignored.”

In my lifetime I’ve never seen a coordinated protest rise up around the world in response to the American inauguration of a new president. But the integrity of the man they have elected matters. The danger he poses to women, minorities, immigrants and the marginalized is very real and deeply disturbing. I’m concerned when I talk to people who don’t seem bothered by what is developing to the south of us.

I’m immensely proud to be a woman with a husband and children who were ready and willing to show up and march. The real work of resistance is only beginning, but hot damn, what a crackerjack opening we had around the globe on Saturday.

It’s not enough to wait and see what happens. We’ve been grieving and fearful for awhile now. It’s women who made this mammoth march happen in a short amount of time. We are the ones who have to show up and fight for what we believe in.

Clearly, many people are willing to do this important work. I’m encouraged by these numbers. It makes me feel less terrified and alone. Let’s keep going. We matter and we have a lot of work to do to keep this momentum going.