Turning 44, and one of the things I've learned

On the same day as the shooting in Orlando, I turned 44.  My husband, kids and I were hiking on a mountain top to an abandoned fire lookout, kayaking on a magical lake, and feeling lots of love and joy.

A day later, when I found out about the tragedy, I started feeling guilty about all the bliss I felt on my birthday.  The guilt lasted exactly 10 seconds, because I realized that the kinds of feelings I experienced on my birthday are exactly what the world needs in the face of insanity, fear, hatred and death.  We need love, joy, community, family.

I am so heartbroken about what happened.  And as always in the face of unspeakable grief I am holding my loved ones close, trying to teach them inclusivity, that we humans are so much more alike than not and thus should treat each other like brothers and sisters.  

Anyway.  I am now 44, rapidly heading towards the half century mark.  I think this would freak me out more if I didn't feel so healthy and strong.  Honestly, I feel more vibrant than I ever have.  

My hair is turning grayer, my wrinkles are deepening, my hands are looking like the appendages of a woman 20 years older than me (I don't wear gloves when gardening or washing dishes), but I feel wiser, deeper, and more seasoned. 

I think ageing has a lot do do with our mindset.  Our culture tells us that we will get aches and pains, that we will get sick, tired and ugly.  Well, I have an issue with that paradigm.  There's nothing that says we can't get healthier and more alive as we age, right?  I jump on that band wagon!  Jump with me!

The hike up the fire lookout was gorgeous.  Wildflowers, sweeping vistas, ferns, gnarled trees...

Don't worry, she didn't kill it. This butterfly was dead, and she was sad and insisted on a proper burial.

On the way down, I lagged behind.  Steve, who knows I like my space, took the kids with their chattering and noisy enthusiasm and led them down the mountain, while I quietly walked alone, blissed out.  The afternoon light was so soft and pretty, bathing everything in golden light.

The backlit flowers seemed to call out to me to stop and admire them.  I reflected on how much I've learned from flowers.  Mostly it's about how to be fully present, to exist in a grounded way and letting their light and beauty shine unapologetically.

What I love about flowers (and everything in nature, really) is that they just ARE.  They live fully in the moment without judging.  Lupins don't look at a daisies and say "Gosh, I wish they weren't so different from me!".  A rose doesn't lament that one of her petals is a different size than another one of her petals, wishing she looked different.  She just keeps on blooming her butt off, spreading her gorgeous fragrance.  One flower doesn't judge another: "Look at that bitch!  Who does she think she is for showing off like that with her vibrant colours?  I wish she kept it down a little."

I totally wanna live like that.

That night, we slept in our friend's tiny cabin and went bicycling (me) and eating cinnamon rolls (the rest of my family), and then headed to Pearrygin Lake to kayak.  Steve gave me a kayak for my birthday (!!!), so we naturally had to test it.  The lake's surface was like glass and took my breath away with its beauty.

My son Luke must have rolled his eyes at me because I kept exclaiming how gorgeous it was.  By the way, you know what the kids' present was for me?  They cleaned out the fridge after I hinted how much this would mean to me.  Have I told you how much I love these kids?  

What are you holding near and dear these days?

PS: I am giving away a spot in my self-paced, start-and-end-whenever-you-like fermentation course at the Woolly Moss Roots blog.  Head on over there and leave a comment to win it.  Even if you don't win, you can claim 10 percent off.  Get the coupon code at Woolly Moss Roots.

Four

Four years ago today, I gave birth to baby Eva on the sofa in my living room, surrounded by family and friends. Don't worry, the sofa was covered with a giant plastic sheet, so next time you come over for tea and sit on the sofa, you don't have to shift around uncomfortably, looking for unsightly stains.
We didn't know what gender the little one would be, so the first thing I did when she slipped into the world was to check. Since I did all the hard work, I had earned the privilege to be the first one to open that present: “It's a girl!!!!”

That was really, really good news, since we already had two excellent boys.  We really like our boys, but I kept wishing for a little more girl power around our house.  Kai and Lukas witnessed the birth, and five-year-old Lukas asked bewildered after seeing this new wrinkled, red skinned being, “Is she an Indian baby?”

My mother was present at the birth as well. She lives in Germany, but had spent the summer working at a ranch in Canada, and so she stayed her last few weeks overseas with us (mostly cleaning my house and organizing every nock and cranny, and when she was done with that, she attacked the garden to whip it into shape).
I remember her standing at the head of the sofa for the whole duration of my short labor, stroking my head and cracking jokes. I think she felt very uncomfortable and out of her element trying to support her daughter giving birth at home, with all these people present (my midwife, my doula friend Jenny, my husband Steve, my two kids and our two friends Deb and Kate, who were in charge of Kai and Lukas for the birth). My mother has four daughters, which qualifies her as an expert in childbirth. But her birthing experiences all happened decades ago, in sterile hospitals, were she, along with all the other women giving birth, were drugged to oblivion. Since I don't get to see my mother much, having her witness her granddaughter's birth felt important to me. It was wonderful listening to her broken English between my contractions, making jokes. And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.

I wish I could show you the only photo I have of her and myself at Eva's birth. The photo is sweet, but incredibly inappropriate for public view, if you know what I mean.  

Now, my youngest child and only daughter is four years old. She is fiery and sassy, just like me, but also incredibly easy, unlike me (she slept through the night ever since she was six weeks old).  She is obsessed with princesses and pink dresses, which stumps me, truly.  (I always hated wearing dresses as a kid, and my idea of fun was to climb trees and beat up boys. Really.)  She is so tall already, which is to be expected with a Daddy of 6 foot 4 stature. Oh, time goes by so quickly...

I can't wait for grandchildren.

Eva turns 4.

Eva in my tummy

Forty-one

I turned 41 years old this week. It's official: I am now rapidly moving towards 50. I have more grey hairs than ever. I can't pretend anymore that I am in my thirties. It feels like I should move into midlife crisis mode and buy myself a Harley Davidson. Since I don't have any spare change for one of those, and since I wouldn't ride a motorcycle now that I am a mother (despite the fact that in my 20's, my only mode of transportation WAS a motorcycle – I even rode with my dog on it), I opted instead to ride my bicycle on my 41^st birthday.

Since I am feeling so ancient, I thought I would throw in this photo of our bike ride showing off my muscles.  Actually, I was a little surprised to see them, since I have never flexed my muscles for a photo!

The family packed up to drive over the Cascade Mountains to Winthrop in the Methow Valley, only two hours away from our house, and in an entirely different climate. In the Methow, it is hot and dry, with very different flora and fauna. There's big sky, lots of dramatic, gorgeous scenery, and the kids' favorite ice cream place.
You drive over Washington Pass here...

... and then get here:

The bike ride was a blast! Steve hung out with Eva at the river and playground, while my two sons and I rode our bikes on an incredibly scenic road. Lukas' bike had problems shifting into first gear, which made it really hard for him, since the first ten miles were mostly uphill. Also, his bike has really fat tires, so the poor guy worked extra hard, and had an extra shitty attitude because of it. Kai and I tried to be sympathetic, but we were pretty blissed out on endorphins and nature. I called Steve to request a pick up for Lukas, which happened at the half-way point of the ride. Relieved of our cheerleading and slowing down for Luke, Kai and I blasted the rest of the ten miles at high speed. Kai kept yelling, “This is soooo beautiful!”, which made me smile even more. What a kid to ride with!

On my actual birthday, we hiked up Patterson mountain, four miles of non-stop beauty and bliss. At some point, I heard cowbells and was reminded of the alps, where I hiked as a kid. The cowbells belonged to a herd of mules, who took themselves for a walk without any people. It was a very surreal scene, but incredibly romantic. Eva walked a lot of the way, although Steve and I served as mules when she got tired and whiny.

See the mules sauntering along?

How very reassuring...

Daddy as a mule

Mama as a mule

We celebrated all this physical activity (and getting older, sigh...) with a stop at Sun Mountain Lodge, where the view is breathtaking, the rooms are sinfully expensive (we didn't stay there, of course), and the food is excellent. The walls are decorated with many dead animals, which is creepy and cool at the same time. On the deck, we consumed root beer, white Riesling, and a strawberry daquiri.  A perfect birthday!