them are fightin' words

If I consider moments of tension or friction in relationships I've had and have, I would say many come from the problems that arise from passive aggressive and just plain aggressive behaviour. When Caitlin and I were backpacking for months together, there were so many moment of her feeling hurt and me feeling frustrated. One night we got drunk and talked about it. Our conclusion was that she was nice and I was honest. Then we ventured a little further and admitted how we really felt about each other: she was weak and I was mean. It was kind of a lighthearted conversation and I think we were better off for having it, and I think we both felt right about being categorized how we were. I have never found value in the notion of nice and she was wary of honesty. In general, I find I have a lot of conflict with people I would call passive aggressive. I don't understand how a person can act out of impure intentions (although I'm sure I do it often in moments lacking self-awareness). But that is to say, my intention in life is always to be honest about how I'm feeling and to communicate how I feel to people when there is obvious conflict. Most people don't want to communicate, I find. I think it makes people uncomfortable. But personally I don't find life much worth living if I'm not being honest.
A huge challenge for me day to day is communicating in a positive way. I don't like to be aggressive and I don't like to be around aggressive people all that much. I like to be flexible and accommodate other people but I have little patience for that if the people I'm trying to accommodate don't communicate their needs to me in some form. There have been many times in my life when I have failed to be a mature, grounded communicator and I think because of that I often come off as a bitch. Working on that is life work; it takes time to undo habits, to let go, to be flexible. Mostly I think it's about listening to yourself. I find any time we say things that come off as bitchy it's because we haven't said what we meant to say, that we haven't listened to the deepest truth in the issue. Often I think it's not about the conflict at hand but more about conflict with ourselves that only we can change ourselves.
I guess I've been thinking about this a lot today in particular because Alex and I are preparing to spend three weeks with his parents and we feel there is some tension between them and us, between their opinions and our boundaries. It's important to us to have a great last visit with them before we move away because we want them to feel like a good part of our and Sebastian's lives, and we want to feel that we can trust them during future visits. I also feel that although the tension is truly and equally between us -- Alex and I --- and them, that it comes across as a tension between me and them because Alex has a tendency to be passive, and to me his passivity is synonymous with passive aggressiveness. We've been talking about how to communicate with them, which is a challenge. It's not only a challenge to find ways to communicate with them positively and effectively without coming across as frustrated, and to ensure that we've been heard, but it's also a challenge to simply communicate with each other on this issue. It comes down to the age old issue in our relationship that he is passive and I am aggressive, and I'm really ready to put those categories aside for the sake of our marriage and the sake of us as parents. Particularly as parents. In my mind, it won't be long at all before we need to be a team for the sake of our children understanding boundaries etc...
I think of every single friend I have, there is only one who doesn't have an imbalance of passivity or aggressiveness, and that is Aja. When I met her I was astounded with her ability to face an issue head-on, putting aside her personal irrationality, putting down ineffective but oh so tempting language and blame. Whenever I've watched her in a conflict or had one with her, she's always been true to the situation and not to her ego, and for that I am forever grateful that she is my friend. This week I want to try to learn from Aja.

au revior montreal

Some Saint Henri sights: 

the canal

the tracks

crazy abandonded saint amboise factory

crazy abandonded saint amboise factory

We have three weeks left in Montreal. I don't think either Alex or I have given it that much thought, as though packing up our belongings wasn't a subsequent event to deciding it was time to leave. But our diminishing time here dawned on me today, and it also dawned on me that a. THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE THE DAY I ARRIVED and b. I'm a little sad about it. Naturally I will romanticize and crave Montreal days at some point, and rightly so. There have been some good times here. Trudging on into God-knows-what is a little intimidating at time, especially with a baby, especially with both of us living off government benefits and I think subconsciously it's holding back my overwhelming enthusiasm for getting the hell on with my life after this bizarre year and a half. But when I think about the future for even a moment, I know it's going to be great and I'm not worried. I want to hold onto that rationality for our last few weeks here so I don't feel overwhelmed, but also so I don't miss out on what it feels like to finally leave this city once and for all. Because I think I deserve that.

I've been having a lot of dreams lately. Strange, half-significant dreams, one after the other after the other after the other. There are themes running through them, too. The other night I had two dreams about holes, like in one I expected to stand in essentially a grave filled with straw while a horse towered over me, and in another I was crawling out of a hole in a hatch in the ground and I was covered in white sugar. Strange. I just packed all my books in a box and taped it up, otherwise I would dig out my dream decoder. I'm sure Freud would have something to say about it.
These last couple days we've been having people in and out of our apartment as we try to rent it. This weekend we're having a kind of open-house garage sale on Sunday so there will be even more people coming in and out, browsing through our stuff. It feels kind of gross. Strangers opening your closets, twisting your shower knobs, peering out your windows. So far no one has jumped at the chance to take the place which makes it worse. One woman refused to take her boots off so stood in our hallway on two sheets of paper dripping icy dirt and I wanted to be like, "Get the hell out of our house!"
Anyhow, I suppose the end is near.
Sebastian has been having a hard time sleeping these days. He wakes up a lot. There was a time when once he was down, he was down and would often sleep for ten straight hours. But now he wakes up at all hours, whining and yelling in his sleep, eyes closed. What wakes him up? How can I teach him to help himself? He is going through a lot of changes right now and because of that I am infinitely patient most of the time. Watching him struggle to worm around the tiles, learning to crawl, knowing his teeth are coming in, seeing how his mind is far surpassing his physical abilities these days is hard. I watch him watching older babies, toddlers, kids and know he understands something his body doesn't yet. No wonder he can't sleep properly! But at the same time, isn't he exhausted?!
There are also a lot of changes in our life, such as all these people coming in and out at his bedtime, nap time. Such as the last couple months, so much travel, so much socializing. I really feel like hibernating for a while, if not for my sake for his. It will be a couple more months until we can settle in somewhere, have a quiet bedtime, have quiet days, have a more baby-centered existence which I think he would benefit from. By then he will be so old! Sometimes I wonder about the habits he will develop in the meantime. I want him to have a positive relationship to sleep, to be relaxed and rested when he wakes up, to feel safe, such as when he is tired he has the opportunity to crash without people keeping him awake, at least until he learns what restful sleep is again.

milk face

Yesterday was a big day for Sebastian as he ate his first non-milk meal. He had been miming chewing for a while, trying to grab our food off our plates, and his first two teeth just arrived (I found the second one broken through this morning!) so he was bound for some solid food any day now. I had been holding off because I wasn't sure what to feed him first. I didn't want to feed him store-bought baby ceral because I don't want his young eating experiences to involve preservatives if we can avoid it (which we always can). Yesterday as Alex and I were sitting down to a plate of homemade bbq scrambled tofu, potatoes and avacado I decided Sebastian should join us. So I threw a tiny pot of white rice onto the stove, whipped out my breast pump and blended the concoction together. We sat him in his little high chair, gave him a big wooden spoon and let him go at it. There were some "a.ps" as his Grandpa Bob calls them-- almost pukes-- but I think he enjoyed himself. I had been aware that this day would be a little emotional for me, and it was. It wasn't sad but just emotional, although less than I'd expected. I guess it seemed like a big milestone, the day he was no longer entirely dependant on my breasts. The day anyone could feed him. I know it's selfish, but hey, it's the truth. I like being that sole provider and I know I'm not alone. But I was happy to see him having this new experience, finally putting something other than table cloths in his mouth while joining us for dinner. And lo and behold, when it was all over and he was cleaned, all he wanted was to nurse. I know our breastfeeding experience will last for a lot longer.
As one relationship evolves and, in a way, ends, others begin. I had two really positive breastfeeding experiences yesterday and it seemed like the universe saying, hey now, you're still needed! In the morning I went to my mama-friend's place for tea and we talked about breastfeeding versus formula. For whatever reason she doesn't produce enough milk for her six-month-old to nurse exclusively so needs to give him a bottle at night, but is trying to up her milk production so she can avoid this. She pulled a can of $16 formula specifically designed for premies (presumably extra cautious and healthy, right?) and pointed out that the second ingredient was CORN SYRUP. "It's going to someone who needs it or in the trash," she said. She headed to the health food store later that day to buy a tea that might help with milk production. I knew she wouldn't find it weird so I offered her some of my milk in the meantime because I can pump a full bottle in about seven minutes and with Sebastian now eating I thought there would be some to spare. Luckily she has a small store in the freezer from past pumping, and is hoping that her tea will help so I won't be a milk bank for now, but she knows she can come to me if she decides it's time.
Later that night Alex and our friend Andy were standing on our patio in -15 when I noticed my neighbour downstairs was outside smoking and I discovered that his baby girl had just been born that week and was freshly home from the hospital. I tip-toed in with him to find his exhausted girlfriend looking defeated next to a tiny little creature. We negotiated through language barriers and I was told that the birth had been very hard, and ended in an unwanted c-section-- an end to what I understood as a very hard pregnancy. As a bottle nipple steralized on the stovetop I carefully ventured, "So are you thinking of breastfeeding?" I learned that she wasn't producing properly and that even the nurses at LaSalle Hospital (where I gave birth as well) had been confused about her lack of milk. The baby was falling asleep at the breast every time she tried. Martin and her looked so defeated and disappointed. "We both wanted her to breastfeed," Martin told me. "But..."
"But you can still try!" I said, trying not to get too involved or passionate lest I scare them off or accentuate their disappointment. I mean, she might not actually be able to breastfeed. He said, "Yes, we'll try maybe once a day..." I explained to them that her milk supply would only diminish more if she fed the baby once a day. I asked them about breast pumping and they said they couldn't afford to invest in a $200 electric one and pointed at this dinky little thing they had picked up somewhere.
So I offered them mine, which is apparently the best kind on the market for hand-held ones. I ran upstairs and got it, emptied the milk I had pumped for Luce's baby Elouan and Sebastian's food, and brought it back. They were sitting there looking so tired and Martin told me he's been working 16 hour days.
"Breastfeeding seems like some big secret," he told me. "We just feel like we're in the dark about it."
I sympathized; even though I have a "militant breastfeeder" as a mother (my father's words) and attended CLSC prenatal courses which focused a lot on breastfeeding, I still wasn't prepared for those first few days of excrutiatingly sore, bleeding nipples and constant constant constant feedings.
I felt like I could have stood there talking about breastfeeding for an hour if there hadn't been such a language barrier and if it wasn't their first day back from the hospital. I pried myself way. But before I left, I turned to say goodbye to the little creature in her chair on the floor and I said, "I forgot! What's her name?!" and the couple glanced at each other sheepishly and said, "Well, it's your name."
!!!

before

during

after-- tired and messy!

ah. mercury retrograde.

We've had one of those weeks when the world tosses you around and you have to rag-doll and wait for it to pass. We're hiding out in Ottawa at Alex's parents before heading back to Montreal to reclaim our life. The day before leaving Vancouver Alex lost his job. We left Montreal with five weeks of paternity leave and discovered we were returning to a hacked work schedule, not enough to live on. We weren't surprised; it's the kind of place where you have to be permanently rag-dolled. But we thought they would have some decency, if not respect for their legal obligation, to not screw us over while we were away. Or at least give us some warning. But that's not their style. So, we weighed our options and decided the best thing for us is for Alex to be laid off completely, go on EI, and start packing up. We had loose plans to leave at the end of March, but as our trip West ended I knew I was truly ready to settle into the more permanent life we've been putting off in Vancouver or thereabouts. For me, this shit with Cafe Mariani is a blessing. I can finally come home.
Now all that's left is the packing that, honestly, I've meticulously envisioned over and over again, and some good old fashioned manifestation. I feel really positive about this move, and know that we will be taken well care of. For me, this is one of the purist decisions I've ever made and I'm excited to see where it takes us.
On our last day on the Sunshine Coast Alex, Sebastian and I walked about Lower Gibsons in the slushy rain. We got some gelato and walked down to the marina and along the peer, watched the fishing boats. The ocean was frozen in the tiny inlets of the docks. I'd never seen frozen ocean before.
The next day my parents drove us into Vancouver. We had lunch in Kits at the Naam then drove around UBC. My mother has a vision of living in the new green development there and has been applying for jobs on campus in association with the farm and gardens. Oddly, it was my great-Grandpa (my father's Grandpa, not my mother's, who is so enthralled with the place) who founded the UBC farm. My Grandpa and his siblings and a large herd of Ayrshire cows crossed the Atlantic from Scotland, travelled across Canada and settled there. We saw my Grandpa's old elementary school on the campus. It's a huge place. Almost a city on it's own. I've applied for the Masters of Fine Arts program there for this upcoming September and will hear whether or not I got in this month. So it was kind of a charged visit, a place where all of us envision our future in some sense. It was also strange because the only time I had ever been there was to visit Rio a few years ago. She was living in an apartment there, struggling through her degree while battling her illness. I sat in the back seat feeling a little emotional, heading to the airport, saying goodbye to my parents. But it was good for us to all be there, I think.
On another note, today my little brother Simon is leaving Panama City on a fifty-foot sail boat bound for Sydney, Australia. He's been living in a crew house in Florida looking for a crew job on a yatch or sailboat, then cruising around America these last few months with people he's met. He and a buddy were bound from Pittsburgh to the small island of Saint Maarten in the Caribbean, hoping to find work there instead, when he got a job offer to help sail this boat. I think they'll be arriving in Sydney in a few months. The destination is great for him because we're Australian citizens and can work without papers there. We also have aunts, uncles and cousins scattered throughout the country who I don't think Simon has met yet. I must say, I'm a little envious!

An old barn on the castle's property. Some farmer's cows and horses scatter the acreage. 

The castle in Ryder Lake my auntie built for her family. I lived here for a while when I wanted to escape my hometown. There is an amazing view of Mount Cheam from the back windows.

Aja Lind, her godson and story time meeting for the first time. I know all my children will be better off in this world with Aja in their lives.

North Shore Mountains and the walk from the ferry at dusk.

A lookout on my neighbour's land. Moments like these make me so proud of where I came from.

Chillin'.

vagabond

since boxing day, alex, sebastian and i have been all over the lower mainland and vancouver island in attempt to feel fully satisfied by this journey west. family and old friends ushered us in everywhere we went; sebastian, the little ham that he has become, has enjoyed every moment of social time and attention; and we've all adapted to new places and scenarios as almost every night we've slept in a different bed. tonight we washed up back at my parents' house after seven hours of driving and ferry rides, unpacked the car and holed up in our separate parts of the house for a while. it's almost felt like camping. for the last week we didn't have a time keeping device, or a phone (just used rare pay phones for the most part), didn't have access to a computer and didn't have much personal space or quiet time. it might not seem significant but i was really aware of this for the first couple days because in montreal i am so constantly plugged in. it didn't take long to feel some elation and freedom, although i craved some writing time and had a hard time finding flow with a pen and paper in a noisy cafe, as usual.
when alex and i dropped my parents off in horseshoe bay so they could head back to the sunshine coast and we could continue onto nanaimo, then gabriola island, i felt anxious. some reluctance nagged me and i couldn't tell if it was intuition or just fear, but looking back on the trip it was obviously just fear. i think i was nervous to be heading to vancouver island because it was the first time that alex and i had taken sebastian anywhere other than ottawa or vancouver, the first time we were going somewhere selfishly and not just to land in the comforts of family life. we arrived in nanaimo around seven at night after a missed-turn-ended-up-in-squamish, couple-hour-ferry-delay, one-sailing-wait adventure then bravely parked the car and ventured out in the rain for the dark and damp gulf island of gabriola so i could see my old pal chelsea rushton, who i hadn't see in over a year. the next morning we headed to victoria, not knowing where the house we were staying at was, and by the time we were settled in the million dollar family home of our buddy elspeth i was exhausted and a little overwhelmed.
over the next couple days i really learned to take pleasure and refuge in my husband and baby. we excused ourselves from the social realm when we needed to and napped together. i looked forward to lying down with sebastian for an hour, nursing him, sleeping together. for the first time he almost didn't seem like a baby but more of a person i could rely on to relax with and love, to laugh with. when we were downtown and it was nap time we made sure not to interrupt him in the snuggly or car seat, and i shed all qualms with breastfeeding him in public. we did what we needed to do and by this morning i think we were all more energized and comfortable than when we had arrived. this was how i always imagined what being a family would be like; alex and i continuing our rambling spontaneous ways and the baby content and happy despite the loose structure. likewise, when i walked off the gabriola ferry with sebastian strapped to my front and a bag in hand, chelsea said, "this is how i always imagined you and alex with a baby."
it felt great to be on vancouver island. i think i owe the ease and inspiration to the islands because i am infinitely more happy and grounded here than in montreal. here, there is never a moment without some sense of pleasure, whether it is the sound of rain on the roof or the constellations (we realized we hadn't seen the stars properly in a year) or the fresh air etc... we're all benefiting from the simple pleasures.