Happy Father's Day & Happy Solstice

We spent a lovely father's day at 'La Granja' -- a little visiting farm where Isabel was able to feed carrots to all the animals. She is too cautious to actually feed them herself, but she found a little friend to whom she would pass the carrots and watch the cows, goats, llamas and even ducks devour them from her hand. There is a great play area with slides and teeter-totters where Isabel was able to run around. It was sweet to watch her run around freely... always eager to make friends. As soon as she sees another kid close to her in size she runs right up to them and starts to make conversation. In the picture above she was on the teeter-totter yelling Happy Father's Day to her papa!! The day started off with homemade banana muffins and a coffee that Isabel brought to papa in bed... though instead of 'father's day', she sang happy birthday to papa. I guess she couldn't quite get the concept yet... so many new celebrations she has been learning about this year. The girls made a beautiful photo album for their dad with foot and hand prints... Isabel helped Anaïs paint her toes yellow to make the imprint on the page. For me, it was a really special time to reflect on how blessed we are to have such a wonderful family. As I look around I see so many dads that are not involved and missing out on some of the most spectacular years of their kids lives. Especially as we make our home away from Canada, the prevelance of absent fathers is so striking (in many cases the moms too, with most kids spending the majority of their time with nanny's and in daycares). It is definitely a choice that can be hard to make; and it is very personal. Yet, as I took a moment to honour the father of Isabel and Anaïs, I was truly overwhelmed at how much joy we get from being together. And more grateful than words could even begin to describe to have a partner who chooses to spend time with family - and engages in every activity without compromise. There are certainly moments where I think this is just how it should be... it is our normal. Yet, for so many people it is not the reality. Having a partner I can count on through each step of this parenting journey is a gift that I treasure. So for Father's Day, I am filled with gratitude and appreciation to all of the men who choose to put their families first. And I am so happy that my daughters dad is just this kind of man!! It truly never ceases to amaze me... no matter how tired or what else is going on... there is always a smile and a hug and energy enough to play and read one more story. It is a well-talked about issue that mother's work goes unrecognized; yet the work of dads, the ones who are truly engaged, is not even on the discussion list. So, to all you dad's who walk the talk and love being a papa... this is your day!! This year, Father's Day falls on the same day as Summer Solstice... the longest day of the year. Though, living this close to the equator and at such a high altitude, the days seem to be exactly the same length with each rotation of the earth. But even still, there is a magic about this day. The energy of the sun seems stronger, even if the day does not feel longer. It is also a day where I feel an urge to honour nature in its power and its brilliance. "To see the World in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wildflower, hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour." ~ William Blake

A few days by the sea...

Last week we spent a few days (June 3-7) by the sea on a little island called San Andres. It is a tiny island in the shape of a sea horse, nestled close to two other islands: Providencia and Santa Catalina. The archipelago of San Andrés, Providencia y Santa Catalina, identified by UNESCO as a World Biosphere Reserve, is located 480 miles (720 km) northwest from the Colombian Caribbean Coast.

Closer to Nicaragua and Jamaica, how the archipelago came to be a Colombian territory is the result of piracy, wars of independence, slavery, immigration, sugar, cotton and religion.

Originally settled by the Spanish in 1510, the islands were part of the Audiencia of Panama, then part of the Capitanía of Guatemala and Nicaragua. English Puritans and Jamaican woodcutters followed the pirates and it wasn’t until 1821 during the Wars of Independence that Francisco de Paula Santander took the islands and the Colombian flag was raised on June 23, 1822.

Sugar and cotton plantations were the mainstays of the early economy and slaves were imported from Jamaica to work the fields. Even after the islands became Colombian territory, the English influence remained in architecture, language, and religion.The archipelago consists of two large islands, San Andrés and Providencia. San Andrés, at the southern end of the archipelago, is the largest island at 13 km long and 3 km wide. It is mostly flat, with the highest point being El Cliff overlooking El Centro, the local name for the town of San Andrés at the northern end of the island. Most of the tourism and commercial business are here.

The island is walkable, but you can rent a scooter or moped to explore. Providencia is the next largest island, at 7 km long and 4 km wide. Located 90 km north of San Andrés, it was for many years quieter and less affected by tourism. However, it is rapidly becoming extremely fashionable and expensive. It is still a lure to snorkelers and divers who come for the extensive coral reefs and clear water.

And it is no wonder, we took a boat out one afternoon and the water was breathtaking... it is hard to capture on film the intensity and clarity of the sea that was in our sight. The boat ride was likely the highlight of our trip. We had originally planned to join a tour group in the morning, but the rain was pouring when we woke up and decided it was too much to try to venture out with the girls. So, instead, we enjoyed a private tour in the afternoon. As soon as the music came on Isabel started dancing and she stopped only to stare at the water from the edge of the boat. Anaïs was totally relaxed and even took a nap. Joshua and I both got in the water with the manta rays... and unbelievable experience. They were so slippery and slimy as they swam by; and there were so many of them swimming the waters between our feet. Huge and yet so graceful in their movements. It was as if they were dancing at our feet.

This trip marked the first time Anaïs was at sea level, and her first swim in the salty Caribbean Sea. We were blessed with beautiful weather and enjoyed playing on the beach from morning until night. Isabel was in heaven playing in the sand, splashing in the water. And both girls made friends with everyone at the hotel -- which was a blessing for me as I was able to enjoy time with one or the other while some gentle soul held Anaïs so I could take a swim with Isabel; or watched over Isabel so I could take a stroll with Anaïs.

This vacation was such a treasure... the sun revitalized my spirit, the sea refuelled my soul. It was hot, hot, hot; and I will admit that by the final day I was ready to go back to the more temperate weather in Bogota. But it also gave me a taste of how nice it is to take a vacation with the two girls... and the many beautiful memories we will be making along the way as we travel the world.

It's amazing what a sense of peace even a short vacation by the sea can offer. Though San Andres might not be our destination of choice for a longer trip. It was just what we needed to recharge our batteries!! You can find more photos from out trip at http://picasaweb.google.ca/jpstories/SanAndresJune37#

laughter

Gratitude is the open door to abundance. ~ Yogi Bhajan

Each day that I watch my children experience the world I am filled with a sense of wonder. Is it possible to be so blessed? For the many moments of frustration, and the never ending exhaustion that comes along with parenthood; the abundance of blessings far outweighs the challenges. My children teach me to let go and live in the present moment... in a way that I never thought I would experience. They actively force me to move out of my head and just be... knowing that right now is the most precious moment of all. And as I release expectations, the blessings multiply. Rather than fretting about what is right/wrong, whether I am making the best choices... I can just enjoy what actually is. Life is perfect not because it is meeting some kind of expectations... but simply because it is what it is in this moment. Nothing reinforces this reality for me more than the laughter of my children. They truly are my greatest teachers. So long as I can put aside all the shoulds, the vulnerabilities, the insecurities and just be... I create the space to allow them to be just who they are... blossoming into incredible people who I love spending time with.

All this is not to say that I never lose my patience, or use a harsh tone unnecessarily; but rather that I am beginning to realise that when I do these things, it is rarely because of something that needs to change in my girls... rather, it is a lesson and a window into something that I can learn about myself. A simple shift in perspective... it's what miracles are made of.

Perfection in perspective...

We strive to be perfect... whatever this means. Sometimes we do not even realize we are doing it, and yet we judge ourselves for all our 'faults' and 'failures'. This judgment seems even more profound as we enter parenthood... seeking answers from books and experts. We get so caught up in all the 'shoulds' of any given stage... and we forget that it all passes: the good and the bad. As expectant mothers we worry about the pregnancy, than about the labour. In the early months we worry about breastfeeding/bottle feeding; then we worry about forming bad sleep habits or encouraging good ones; we move into fretting about weaning and introducing the right foods (how much are they eating, is it the right stuff); and then we get into behaviour control with time-outs and incentives; potty-training; homeworks; curfews... rules or no rules; permissiveness versus strict control. And throughout it all we seek out expert advice - often allowing this advice to trump our own instincts. And sometimes we just suffer with getting too much unwanted advice... and while we try to ignore it, the words sink into our psyche and fill us with self-doubt. At what point did we stop listening to our own instincts and start believing that 'someone' or 'something' 'out there' knows better, has a better answer, can offer an easy solution. Yet, being a parent is hard... no matter what rules we follow. It challenges us to live in the here and now. It forces us to take a deeper look at our own insecurities. It exposes to us our most tender vulnerabilities. And if we stop and listen... we realise that our children are truly our greatest teachers. It is us who are learning from them, not the other way around. And somehow, someway, they grow into wonderful human beings regardless of the little details along the way... whether we rocked them to sleep or they dozed in a crib; whether they ate their dessert first or devoured plates of brocolli; whether they sat calmly on a plane ride across the ocean, or let everyone around them know they did not enjoy sitting still. We can guide them and inspire them; but we do not need to change our children. They are magic, just as they are. And perhaps, as we listen to advice along the way... we may want to heed the advice that comes from the heart, rather than that which fills us with doubt and uncertainty. There are a million different reasons why not to allow babies to fall asleep in our arms... and yet, following this advice means we miss out on one of the most precious gifts of having a newborn. The sense of peace and awe that fills our souls when we hold a sleeping baby. I was recently having a conversation with a good friend of mine who has three teenage kids; and I asked her whether she had any advice to ensure that Isabel continues to transition well into being a big sister. And she told me something that was so simple, and yet to me so utterly profound. She said that if there was any sibling rivalry between her girls she doesn't remember. She said: "Right now this is where you are, and so it seems like it is everything. But it is just a passing moment. Soon you will move into the next one and worry about that." And suddenly I realised that I don't need to worry... because it will be what it will be. And I spend all my time worrying about the little nuances, I will miss out on the magic moments that I want to savour. A day later I came across the following note and it further accentuated the importance of this message: Everything passes... the sleepless nights and the late night giggles... enjoy what fills you with laughter and know that with each new day the light shines again and the heaviness of the night passes. ---- All My Babies Are Gone Now http://forksandchopsticks.wordpress.com/2007/05/13/all-my-babies-are-gone-now/ By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past. Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education — all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations — what they taught me, was that they couldn’t really teach me very much at all. Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2. When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton’s wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too. Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the “Remember-When-Mom-Did” Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language –mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, “What did you get wrong?” (She insisted I include that here.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald’s drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking? But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. Even today I’m not sure what worked and what didn’t, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I’d done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That’s what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were. ----- It has taken me nearly two and a half years of being a parent to realize that the perfect moment, the perfect reaction, the perfect parent, the perfect child are figments of our imagination... and in reality, the perfect everything is right here, right now.

Mother's Day Gratitude

As I reflect on what it means to celebrate mother's day, I am filled with gratitude for each and every one of you. You, my dear friends and family, make up critical pieces of this puzzle that I call motherhood. You are my guides, my teachers, my beacons, my fairy-brothers/sisters. I could not imagine traveling this road - filled with mountains and potholes, flowers and majestic trees, waterfalls and rivers, still ponds and crashing ocean waves - without each of you inspiring me along the way. And it is not just the 'moms' who guide me... for motherhood is so much more than biology. It is a way of being, a way of living... a moment in time that simultaneously stands still and moves rapidly just like starlight. Each of you, in your own way, inspire me to be a better person and a better mom. There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that both Isabel and Anaïs benefit directly from your collective wisdom and counsel. And so today, on Mother's day, I celebrate each the men and women in my life who share this journey with me. I give thanks that you are in my life... near or far, always present in my heart. Happy Mother's Day to each and every one of you, along with a special blessing!! May today there be peace within. May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us. **This entry inspired by my dear friend Sarah Leonard.

Sweet memories...

It seems that even Bogota weather was celebrating our anniversary... it was warm enough to wear shorts and t-shirts today (a nice and rare surprise from the sky above). It is actually quite hard for me to believe that just five years ago we were married on the beach in Mexico surrounded by our friends and family. So much has happened in these years... in our life and in the lives of the community that surrounds us, a community that continues to grow, and continues to inspire us on our travels. And no matter where this journey takes us, the bond we share with our friends defies the distance of geography... this is such a gift. And now, five years into our marriage, I am continually amazed and surprised by the love that continues to grow. I read over our wedding pledge today and realized that it is just as profound today, as it was when we wrote it. I am almost overwhelmed with gratitude as I look at our life today... blessed with the amazing grace and joy of two beautiful girls; surrounded by a myriad of amazing friends and unbelievable family who shower us with wisdom and kindness no matter how many miles separate us; and built upon a foundation of love that seems to flow freely from a limitless fountain that we share with each other, and feel reflected back to us infinitely as our family grows. Truly, love really does make the world go round. And the more you give, the more it just shines back and grows. There is beauty in everything we see, in everything we touch... and the more we let go, the more we are blessed. Thanks to each of you who shared this special day with us... we really do need to think about another such vacation (perhaps for our 10-year anniversary!!); and thanks to each of you who we have met since who are part of our lives and inspire us on our path.

the circles of life

The birth of Anaïs is bookmarked on each end with the passing of two fabulous women. Just 13 days before her birth marked the death of my grandmother, Duza Mama (Maria Schwartz). And as Anaïs turned seven weeks, one of my mother's best friends - Anna Jakubowska - passed away on April 2nd. Reflecting upon the loss of both of these women, as I embraced the new life before me, put the circle of life into perspective in a way that I had never expected. I also realized that Anaïs is named after both - for my grandmother was intentional, yet for Anna (which is the base of Anaïs) it was unexpected and very profound (just as her death). Anna Jakubowska was a fantastic woman -- a doctor who practiced with her heart, rather than her textbook. She explored the world and never missed the opportunity to share in a special event with family and friends. What was most meaningful to me is that she treated each person, each patient, as an individual... if i had become a doctor, i would have wanted to practice as she did... with a deeper knowledge of the human spirit. She has been a part of my life for as long as I remember living in Canada, and my mother shared a nice dinner with her each week and they talked on the phone daily. She has two fabulous children, and as I think of them I am instantly reminded of how lucky I am to have my mother (and my mother-in-law)... both in my life and in that of my two girls. The bonds we create with family and close friends are indescribable. They bring us strength when we feel we can no longer walk; they give us courage when we are ready to give up; they offer a shoulder when we need to rest; they offer a joke when we need to laugh; they are an unjudging ear when we need to be heard; they listen compassionately when we need to cry; and their presence is not hindered by physical distance. A friend sent me this poem and it resonated for me this experience... the message is simple and strong, and for me it resonated as I embraced the loss of two mothers, and myself became a mother of two within a short span of time... fully and completely living the circles of life. As I read it, I also realized that 'mother' could easily be replaced by parent or father... as it also made me think of my own father who, even though he is not walking this earth anymore, is with me always. --- The young mother set her foot on the path of life. "Is this the long way?" she asked. The guide said, "Yes, and the way is hard. You will be old before you reach the end of it, but the end will be better than the beginning." She was happy and would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, she fed them and bathed them, and taught them how to tie their shoes and ride a bike and reminded them to feed the dog, and do their homework and brush their teeth. The sun shone on them, and the young mother cried, "Nothing will ever be lovelier than this." Then the nights came, and the storms, and the path was sometimes dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her arms, and the children said, "Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come." The morning came, and there was a hill ahead. The children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary. But at all times she said to the children, "A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and as they climbed they learned to weather the storms. With this, she gave them strength to face the world. Year after year, she showed them compassion, understanding, hope, but most of all....unconditional love. And when they reached the top they said, "Mother, we would not have done it without you." The days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years, and the mother grew old, and she became little and bent. But her children were tall and strong and walked with courage. And the mother, when she lay down at night, looked up at the stars and said, "This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned so much and are now passing these traits on to their children." When the way became rough for her, the children lifted her, and gave her their strength, just as she had given them hers. One day they came to a hill, and beyond the hill, they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. Mother said, "I have reached the end of my journey. Now I know the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk with dignity and pride, with their heads held high, and so can their children after them." The children said, "You will always walk with us, mother, even when you have gone through the gates." They stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after her. They said, "We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a living presence." Your Mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She's the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick, and the perfume that she wore. She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well. She's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day. She is the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning. Your mother lives inside your laughter. And she's crystallized in every tear drop. A mother shows every emotion: happiness, sadness, fear, jealousy, love, hate, anger, helplessness, excitement, joy, sorrow..... and all the while, hoping and praying you will only know the good feelings in life. She's the place you came from, your first home, and she's the map you follow with every step you take. She's your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy, but nothing on earth can separate you. Not time, not space...not even death! --Author unknown Reading this poem once again reminded me how important it is to live and fully experience the present moment. There is no substitute for the beauty of right now... even in the hard times. For as we enjoy this time, it creates the memories that build our future.