Well, actually, our baby is 1 and 1/6 years old now because one came and went and off we were running towards what feels like two, three, or four some days. “Littlest” as one of his uncles calls him, isn’t the littlest bean anymore. He’s a whole year old (and then some).
Post-nap curls
I spent the week prior to his birthday remembering the week, days, and hours prior to his birth. What a whirlwind it has been. From moving just two days before he was born to nearly delivering in the bathroom of the new house to welcoming him in the birthing suite’s tub. The first two weeks felt like heaven and even after the hormonal plunge at two weeks (how rude!) I think I still somehow was getting more oxytocin than your average bear because I was (and still am) so high on life and while my tasks were new to me, they were simple: care for your babe, care for yourself, care for your family.
In doing just that in the last year, we’ve adventured from the wilds of Alaska to the warmth of Hawaii and back. We’ve trekked up mountains and waded in waved waters.
Same place as above…One year later.
We’ve flown on airplanes big and small (update on the small to come). Ollie has donned swimsuits to snowsuits (and birthday suits, of course). He’s gone from a little “squish” as a friend lovingly calls the infant stage to “potted plant phase” (another friend’s title), to crawling and walking and now running (oh lawwwwd, it’s on!). I’ve chased after him and been chased by him and chased that initial high that may have lowered from its seemingly illegal initial levels but has never worn off.
Even after a poke in the eyeGrandma Donna’s glasses. Coolest guy.
What a year it has been.
Happiest of belated birthdays to you, sweet Ollie who eats every lick of frosting before touching the cake and every raisin out of his oatmeal first too. I love you, sweet, sweet tooth.
Don’t tell anyone, but I started a new job and my direct reports at work are being real stinkers this week. You wouldn’t believe it. One disobeyed a direct order and the other threw their lunch at me. One never dresses appropriately for the workplace (pajamas? Rude) and the other comes to work in the nude (thank goodness for Zoom, eh?). They’re constantly pushing my boundaries and my buttons and…
I’ve never been happier.
You see, I’m a workin’ Mom alright, but a few things have changed since we last talked:
I traded my 9-5 (and by that, I mean 6 am or 7 am to the end of business) for a job that’s even more work and 24/7. I moved into something I have zero training in (but thankfully, a natural instinct towards). My salary absolutely tanked.
So what’s the new gig and why am I so excited to have lost all of my earning power while simultaneously be working more?!
I’m working the original WFH job: being a full-time parent.
My direct reports? Leto and Ollie (The Pantless Duo). My meeting schedule? We start at 5 am most days and go until the sun sets (which in Alaska means…never).
Pasta party!
So, what gives, eh? I had an amazing job. I had reached the salary goal I’d made for myself when I first started remote work. And… I was miserable.
Neither of us were impressed with our new setup.
In November, I went back to work, and oh what a journey it was. I had an incredibly warm welcome from co-workers old and new (the company had more than doubled since I’d left in May). My position and schedule had changed a bit as the company itself had morphed so the return was a bit of a rough landing (especially since I’d jumped in at full speed. Hello, 40+ hours/week!). Yet after a few months, my team found our stride. We did, but me? Stella never quite got her groove back. In the split between old and new selves that is motherhood, my heart was with the new. I never saw it coming. I always “knew” I’d want to go back to work shortly after having a babe. Turns out, it’s hard to know what you’d do until faced with the situation.
While I love working and the sense of pride I get from a job well done, working from home with my infant just a few feet away was torture. I’d be in meetings, trying my best to conjure up from my sleep deprived vocabulary bank the verbal athletics that is acronym-filled corporate speak when I’d hear a wail break through my noise-canceling headphones. Despite knowing in my head that he was in the care of his father’s highly capable hands, my body felt otherwise. Nausea would set in, my heart would start beating rapidly and I’d lose my breath. Panic. My body would rebel against my attempts to stay present in whatever meeting I was in, whatever it was that was keeping me from my babe. The effects would last for hours.
Still, I had a job to do. I had to find a way around it. I’d escape to coffee shops and eventually found a co-working space.
Not a bad view, eh?
I’d navigate my meeting schedule to find a pocket of time and load up my computer and cords, pack my lunch + snacks (+ more snacks), my pump and bottles, and myself into our shared vehicle, and off I’d go. Then I’d get there, work an hour or so until it would be time to pump. I’d find some corner or bathroom to keep my supply up and my breasts from bursting, store the milk, wash and dry the bottles, and then it would be back to meetings until I needed to do it all over again.
Pumping: everyone’s favorite
It was tiring and inconvenient and felt like a lot of runaround for little gain but the little gain it gave, we needed. It was my turn to be the breadwinner after a 5-month stint at home with Ollie. I tried to suck it up.
Come January. it was time to start looking for a nanny for the summer in Alaska. I had a few good leads that all sizzled out right around the time that I mentioned “off-grid living” and “outhouse”. Others could commit to helping but not a full-time predictable schedule. My meetings were already mapped out, my days already booked. I had a team that counted on me to at least be as present as a new parent can be. I needed someone 40-50 consistent hours per week.
It wasn’t looking good.
By late February, things were getting serious. In Alaska, we have to start planning for the summer by late winter and here the season was, reaching her end and a nanny felt completely out of reach. The Chief would be back at work in April and we couldn’t both work without help. Originally, I had planned to work from home with Ollie but once he was with us in the flesh, the idea became laughable (I know some people do it but I honestly don’t know how). He was far past the Potted Plant phase, as my girlfriend dubbed it where I could place him somewhere and get a few things done. He was more at the Hell on Wheels phase (aka if you’re not running, you’re not going to keep up). It was on and boy was I feeling off. I kept trying to find a way to make it work but it felt like I was swimming against the current. Luckily, I had a perfect attitude the whole time and was an absolute joy to be around.
Or maybe it was more like this sunset: 50% sunny, 50% grey
One morning, tears stuck in my throat, I called my Mom at 5am and at with first syllables of her “Hi honey, what’s wrong” (Mamas know) the tears came flooding out. “I can’t do this anymore”. “I know”, she replied. And then we began to brainstorm. We came up with endless scenarios some of which were damn creative but in the end, I knew the answer: I had to quit.
The Chief agreed wholeheartedly. While he loved being a stay-at-home Dad, he was ready to go back to work. I, on the other hand, longed to be back with my babe. It just made sense. No more pumping, no more panic-packed meetings. No more feeling like I couldn’t fully be at work or with Ollie because they were both constantly competing for my attention. No more choosing between the two. And no more wandering down childcare dead-ends only to panic further. Heck, even if we had found someone, no more packing and unpacking Ollie and his necessities for the day, coordinating schedules and drop-offs and pick-ups. No finding random corners to pump in to keep up supply. Not yet, at least. For now, I get to be home and boy do I know how lucky that is. Will it mean cutting back? Oh yes, ma’am! Trimming the fat was essential immediately and meant everything from canceling Netflix to selling half of our property.
I know they say not to make your passion your work but so far, it’s working out just fine. They also say having kids changes you and boy were they right about that. Never did I ever think I’d feel fulfilled to change diapers all day but baby, sign me up! It’s not forever, it’s for now and for now, I am over the moon to get to watch this little person blossom.
First flower spotting of the year! Anenome beauty.
While it was a hard decision to make (and one I felt I constantly had to apologize for or validate as it felt incredibly irresponsible), and an even harder one to deliver (I cried. I always do) to a company who’d been so great to me, I knew I couldn’t be what they needed or what I needed. So I bid adieu to my salary goal, my 401k, stock options (my first ever), healthcare, and stability and as soon as I did, things started falling into place and not just metaphorically. My wrist which had been cocked at a 45-degree angle for 8 months painfully popped back into place in the middle of the night and for the first time in as long, I was pain-free. I could hold my child without wincing, type without my wrists being on fire. I felt my entire being start to relax. On both small and large scales, doors started opening to us. Suddenly, we felt with the current, no longer fighting its force.
On my last day, I was lucky to have not one but two going away parties at work, plus an amazing e-card filled with memories of our time together and some beautiful conversations with colleagues and then, come 5pm, my computer no longer worked. Whether I was finished or not (I was), I was done.
And?
I haven’t looked back since.
Except for at these guys
So, what does looking forward look like?
Currently, life looks a lot like this:
The explorer extraordinaire
Come the fall, I’ll be looking for new opportunities but until then, we have tightened our belts and buckled our seatbelts for a beautiful summer together.
Now excuse me while I go talk to my new co-workers about appropriate workplace behavior.
With love and whole heckuvalotta gratitude,
from Alaska
P.S. To all those who care for, love, or caretake someone or something else, a very happy belated Mother’s Day to you!
P.P.S. How does your family manage it all? What’s your work/childcare/self-care combo that’s working (or not working for you)? Let us know in the comments below!
Phew! It’s been a ride. A wild one, a joyous one, a stressful one, a “Where the heck are any of our things?!” one. The past month has been marvel and mayhem all rolled into one. Yet finally, three moves and a serious weather shift later, we’ve arrived home to our little hamlet in Alaska. If we were a business, we would have one of those signs out that reads “Pardon our dust (as we reconstruct our lives a bit)”.
All that to say, I’m coming back. It’s been a hiatus but the mayhem end is in sight (at least for getting settled). Boxes are being put away, things are getting tidied, winter systems are up and running (so far). And I have more big changes to report…
The time has come to tidy up loose ends and head back to the wintry north.
In some ways, it feels like we arrived yesterday and in some ways it feels as if we’ve been gone for years. So much has happened.
Right before we left…Right before we leave
When we arrived, little Ollie was, as a friend calls it, in “Potted Plant Phase”. Sure, he was rolling back and forth but for the most part he’d stay where I left him, arms and legs waving wildly. Now, it’s a full on race to keep up with my crawling, standing, stair climbing babe. He’s chock-full of change. From erupting teeth to bubbling over with babbling, he’s changing right before our eyes.
The other day, I was listing all the boats he’s been on:
A cruise to the Columbia Glacier in Valdez
A boat trip across the lake at home
A glass bottom boat in Hawaii…
Cousin Zoey!
This kid has run the gamut, from ice cold ocean to salmon filled lakes to warm seas. In such a small time, we’ve been so many places, met so many faces, learned so much. Change with a babe is constant but adding external change makes the ride even wilder. I did a little more tallying:
Since right before Ollie was born we’ve moved from:
Home to Anchorage
Anchorage to Anchorage (three days before the little dude arrived)
Anchorage to home
Home to Hawaii
Hawaii to Hawaii (we moved out of our family’s house this last week while they had friends visiting and we get to stay with Grandma and Grandpa who are also visiting)
How cute is this trio?!
Next up: Hawaii to Hawaii (back to our family’s house for the last week here) and then?
Hawaii to Anchorage
Anchorage to McCarthy (quick trip for The Chief to fix up the cabin)
Anchorage to Fairbanks (work trip for The Chief)
Anchorage to Anchorage (moving from housesitting to another friend’s home)
Anchorage to McCarthy for the summer
And finally…
Anchorage for school in the fall and beyond!
Phew! I’m a little tired just thinking about it and simultaneously ready to get this show on the road. Change, here we come. Time to go.
I never in my life thought I’d be ready to leave Hawaii but I am. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ll miss the heck out of the ease and the breeze as I wrestle my babe into winter clothes for even the smallest endeavor outdoors but Alaska for me right now signals a slow down (at least in the fall) and I am here for it. Because, while I wouldn’t change a thing, I definitely wouldn’t recommend moving umpteen times with a tot. It’s…well, it’s a lot.
Have box, will travel.
And, it’s exactly what we needed to do to figure out exactly where we need to be.
Alaska.
Who’dathunk it?
It surprised me too, bud.
When we arrived four months ago, I didn’t even want to talk about Alaska. I needed a break. Now, four months later, we are coming full circle. Because while I’m sad to leave, I’m more excited to greet community, continuity and (eventually) calm.
Am I worried about the weather?
Yep.
Ready for the cold?
Maybe.
Excited for what comes next?
Definitely.
Alaska.
With love,
From Hawaii
Where epic sunsets greet you on your way out of the grocery store
Years ago now, I wrote a post called Home is Where the Hard Is. In it, I wrote about the hard that is our home, about the struggle it takes to do even the simplest home project, and about how that hard is what made it all the more worthwhile.
I was new to our house and we were in the honeymoon mood of making it our home.
My favorite addition: ceiling storage jars
The hard thrilled me, it revived me. It held up a mirror to life as I’d known it and asked if what I knew was what I wanted or, if instead, I wanted something different.
I was deeply in love, not just with The Chief but with all that he and this new life embodied. Yet as I was falling in love with my new home, a new friend who has now become a dear friend confessed to me that she was falling out. Reading my post, however, set to the tone of a starry-eyed, love-drunk newbie, a bit of the romance returned for her. She looked a little more fondly at the hard, she’d just needed a break At the time I remember being shocked that anyone could possibly fall out of love with the beauty of all that is our tiny hamlet in Alaska. She pulls you in, how could you ever let go?
Stop showing off, you beauty you.
The romance of the hard held me close for years. The thrill of an unexpected storm, the creative meals due to dwindling supplies, the discomfort of far beyond freezing temps truly testing my abilities to survive. All of it, every day of it felt like an adventure until…
We spent two years in the hard and a fissure formed. Timing isn’t everything but it can sure make a difference and after spending the entire year before COVID at home in order to finally settle after years of constant packing and unpacking, the non-stop hard started to chip away at the joy. No worries, we’d take a trip and all would be rosy again. Except, we couldn’t. Two years after our intended year-long staycation we went on our first vacation since our honeymoon and for the first time ever we both weren’t ready to come home. I’m fact, had Leto been with us, we might not have.
Where were we?
Hawaii.
For the first time ever, The Chief said to me “I don’t want to leave. I could even see living here.”
And so, we have.
The little crack those two years formed has grown since it’s inception but when Ollie came, the crack gave way to a rushing tide of wonderings.
Would the hard work with him?
More bluntly: Would the hard with him work for me? Was I up for the challenge?
There are countless women who have raised their babes in the wild and I was certain for years I’d be among them. It felt like a badge of honor and I hoped it’d be bestowed upon me but that’s not how badges work. Truth be told, I know my ego played a part in hoping I could live this life and ride the homestead-ish mountain mama wave all the way in.
Gearing up to go outside!
The truth?
Maybe I could, maybe we will, but right now, I’m just not up for it. This summer, with a new babe in the woods where systems constantly break down and medical care 8 hours away, where there’s one road in and one road out and sometimes no road at all, I finally admitted to myself that I am not up for this year-round anymore. OK, I had done it. I had said the scary thing to myself but the scariest part of that admission was what would happen when I uttered it aloud.
Why?
The Chief.
Love rock
Since our start we’ve always spent some time apart but it’s gotten smaller in quantity every year. We love being together. He also loves being in Alaska. The two years had cracked him but not in the same chasm-creating way it had me. I wanted to be near healthcare and grocery stores, and activities and opportunities for Ollie and, truth be told, for myself. Yet I wanted to be with my husband. I wanted our family together.
So, what’s a family in transition to do?
Move to Hawaii, of course.
Cutie clones
Ever since that first trip, Hawaii had been our starting point for hard conversations. Did we want to live in Alaska year round? If we didn’t, where would we live? In a time where some of our dearest friends have been gone from Alaska, it’s been both harder and easier to think outside of the AK box. Our base has shifted. So, we returned to the place where that shift began, this time with our Leto and our Ollie, never to return.
Just kidding.
In the past few months, the hard conversations have continued. We spent Thanksgiving morning in tears when we came to the realization that things would indeed be changing but the questions of “How? To where? When?” were still unanswered. That doesn’t rest easy on the soul.
Since then, some big plans have evolved and come this fall, The Chief, Ollie, Leto, and I are doing the last thing we ever thought we would: we are moving away from the woods for more than just a season and heading to Anchorage because…
The Chief is going back to school!
Time to get curious again
I can’t express the happiness I feel in typing those last three words. I am so incredibly proud of him for choosing a path he desperately wanted but was unsure he’d ever see. I am completely aware that Anchorage is still Alaska, where the grey skies have been getting me down but, that’s the beauty of years of debate: compromise. We’ve agreed I’ll spend some time away every few months to up my vitamin D intake and we will both spend time out in the woods, just not all of our time. It’s the best (that we could come up with anyways) of all worlds. Time in the wilderness and time away and overall, most of our time together.
Almost eight years later, I completely understand where my friend was coming from. I love our home and I also needed a break from the hard. A real break. These past few months have been just what we needed: time in the sun, time with ease, and time to think.
Have I missed the 14-hour shopping days followed by the late-night 8-hour drives home? The unpacking of the truck in waist-deep snow at 3am? Honestly, in some ways, yes. The old me does st least. The mom me? In some ways still yes but in the ways that are a no, I’ve been grateful to be here, at home wherever my heart is.
Landing
In just a little over a month we fly home and for the first time ever, we won’t be rushing back out to the woods. Will we be there again? Certainly, but not immediately. Does this new norm feel weird? Indeed. Yet I know it’s right because when I remove what I feel I should do, coupled with what I said I’d do and look at what I feel I need to do for us, this is the answer.
With love,
From our hearts to yours (via Hawaii and a half n’ half sunset)
**Where is your heart taking you these days? Are you branching out from your idea of home or rooting down? Let us know in the comments below**
If the pandemic did anything for us, I think it helped to make each one of us humans recognize that everyone else is human also. Radical, I know. We saw people in their homes working with everything from kids to cats to dirty laundry in the background and finally we decided it was OK.
Working from home the past 6 years, I’d always felt that things had to be perfect. I’d tidy up my humanity into a professional front and hope and pray that Leto wouldn’t decide he needed to serenade us or that my background didn’t look too much like a cabin (it is a cabin because I live in a cabin), or that no one would notice when I’d slip and say “I just have to run outside to use the restroom”, failing to cover up the fact that we use an outhouse.
Workstation Also a workstation (and snack station)
In my current job, which started in April 2020, that veneer became less important. People there seemed more interested and less appalled by my lifestyle as living a simpler life and getting back to basics (hello sourdough super fans!) gained popularity. Plus, everyone loved dogs, thankfully, as that was the summer that Leto fell in love with neighbor dog and howled 24/7 for two months. It felt a little less essential to hide my life and little more appropriate to share it yet still I spent a lot of effort tidying it to look a certain way (even if that way isn’t really my way).
What have we decided that looks like again? And…who decided this?
Professional?Cozy co-workerUnhinged co-worker
As I came back on screen for my first day after Parental Leave, despite being on the grid with an indoor toilet and all, I worried that again I would look unprofessional. In 87 degree weather my options were thin strapped clothing or heat stroke so I chose the straps. I also didn’t have my desk setup yet so I sat outside, Bougainvillea blooming behind me. Was that ok?
Yet locale and skimpy clothes were the least of my worries, because now I had a whole human to hide. How was I going to pull that off? I mean, I couldn’t simultaneously don my professional hat and my Mom hat, right?!
The funny thing is, I don’t believe any of this inner speak I was shouting at myself but somehow it crept in anyways. Sure, my attention might be divided if I’m holding my babe during a meeting but it will also be divided if I hear him crying during a meeting and still if I can’t hear him crying at all because I’m working away from him. Why? Because, as one of my coworkers pointed out to me when I asked how she dealt with working as a mom: I’m a mom. Part of me will always be thinking of my babes. That’s ok. That’s human.
Still workin’, still mommin’
Whether he’s in my sights or out, he will always be on my mind but that doesn’t make me less of a professional or less valuable of an employee. Perhaps it’s even a strength. Wild idea, I know! It’s amazing what I’ve seen multi-tasking minds do. I can’t count the number of times my parent friends have held a meaningful conversation all while clothing/feeding/calming/teaching another smaller human. Nor can I express how absolutely fluent these people have become in all things baby in no time flat. The learning curve is steep but up that hill we all climb, slowly, steadily learning along the way. Parents aren’t dummies but I sure was being one. All it took was a three hour kickoff meeting to shake me sense-full.
Three hours is a chonka chonka sized meeting for anyone but for a new mom? Extra chonk. Even if Ollie wasn’t home with The Chief and I, I still would have had to stop to pump at some point. Yet, him being home meant I could stop and simply feed him and then go back and…that was A-OK. There were three quick pauses in the three hours and one was just for me to refill my water. The week followed suit, going surprisingly well most hours of most days.
Truth be told, no matter how well the days go it’s still hard for me to be at work. It’s hard to not be the one who knows Ollie best or has all the tricks up my sleeve but once my ego started to let that go, I could see the beauty in The Chief stepping into the spotlight as I stepped out.
Watching him rock our little love to sleep when my classic moves weren’t working slowly felt less like defeat and more like freedom. Freedom to see myself as as a workin’ mom. Freedom to start taking longer than a bathroom break moment to myself. Freedom to share in the hard. And while the baton handoff has been shaky at times (I’m not crying, you’re crying) I know deep down I needed it.
So, I’m letting myself take the gift of the pandemic and allow myself to be human, a human working mom. May you all have coworkers as wise as mine to help set you straight, if need be. Let’s all just be humans together, shall we?
I’m not much of a runner anymore but I used to run in local races in California for fun (for fun?!). The longest run I ever completed was a 10k and at a point mid-race I remember thinking “Well, this will never end.”
Surprise! It did. I made it. And I lived to see another day. I know the pancake breakfast at the finish line had a lot to do with it but so did just putting one foot in front of the other, cliche as it may sound.
Back in my racing days. Color run at Candlestick Park
The last few weeks were all about one step at a time. There were so many bumps in the road I thought we might not make the finish line but there was something even better than pancakes waiting. I know what you’re thinking: “Better than pancakes?! Is that even possible? Barely, but yes.
Hawaii.
Sunset slowdowns
After spending two weeks shutting down the house and driving for 60 miles through the nearly two feet of fresh snow that dumped the day before we left (plus cutting down a tree blocking our passage), plus two moves once we got to Anchorage, a sore throat that we worried was COVID, Leto tummy troubles that had us up in the night more than our Ollie, and Ollie’s first flight, this exhausted quartet made it to Hawaii. It felt like we’d never reach the finish line but we did.
Leto bounded out of his kennel as if he’d been expecting the tropics and has adjusted well in the 10 days we’ve been here. Ollie is a little fish in the ocean who is pretty sure he can swim already and The Chief and I are learning the keys to baby + puppy travel in a new place (where the dog can’t be left in the car and the baby suddenly HATES driving) and enjoying the ease of the warmth and slow pace.
It’s been a week plus of settling, adjusting and finding new rhythms and this week marks a whole new shift: back to work. To be totally truthful, it’s rocked me. I’ve had to force myself to stay present and enjoy the magical moments this island provides and the sweetness of being with family.
Settling wise, we are nearly there. We have a car and groceries and a beautiful place to live with our relatives.
Work wise, I’m 100% panicked about starting back but…one step at a time towards the finish line, right? A finish line even better than pancakes (but I might need some of those too).
‘Twas a whirlwind weekend indeed, preceded by a whirlwind week. And that week? Two weeks ago.
What?!
I told you, whirlwind.
Last Monday as I sat down to write, I got about three sentences in before the sleepy wave hit. I guess that’s what getting home at 1 am will do to you. Let me explain: The week had gone like this:
The Chief, partner in crime that he is, agreed to me practicing with my band not once, not twice, but three times in a row for our upcoming gig (which he also agreed to. I told you, partner in crime). This schedule promised late nights followed by his ever-early mornings for work. It was a price we were both willing to pay to help me do something that made me feel like…me. Ollie, trooper that he is, rolled right along with it, taking the milk I’d pump throughout the day (and on the way to practice. Never anticipated that one!) from a bottle from his Pops. Everyone was run a little thin but we all got through it together.
The cuteness certainly makes any hard much easier…
Then came the weekend. With our upcoming departure to Hawaii (we haven’t talk about that yet, have we? More to come…) looming overhead, every spare moment has been set to getting ready to leave AND with the work of living in the woods, spare moments can be hard to come by. So, we spent Friday prepping for HI and prepping for the gig. It’s amazing what you need to pack for a single night away with a kiddo and we aren’t exactly the lightest packers to begin with. Into the bag umpteen changes of clothes, diapers, pump and pajamas went and by the next morning we were off!
The gig was at 5 pm, we were set to play around 7 so I tacked on an hour to adjust for well, life. By 9 pm, Ollie perfectly content in a pack on my front, we started to wonder when the curtain would call. By 10 pm, our time had come and so had bedtime (well, bedtime #2. Ollie had been snoozing since 8).
Little bear bundle
He wouldn’t get to see me go on but he’d be cozy in bed waiting for me with his Dad. We played for almost two hours to an amazing crowd and were joined by some of the finest musicians I’ve ever had the honor to play with.
Howdy, bandmates!
My cup was overflowing. Riding on the high of the stage, I walked home, solo for the first time since May and enjoyed the moment of solitude in the soggy streets. Ten minutes, a midnight snack and an unrushed nighttime teethbrushing/facewashing routine later and I was in a whole other moment, one of cozy calm with my three favorite boys. I walked into the room to see The Chief asleep, bottle still in his hand, and a sleeping Ollie, feet propped up on his Pops. Leto greeted me as I entered, letting me know that all of our precious cargo was safe.
What a day.
The next morning was a little bit of mayhem followed by a lot a bit of magic. After shuffling to find a dog sitter and rushing back just in the nick of time, we made it onto…
The boat!
What?!
Yep. In addition to putting us up and feeding us, the gig had also hooked us up with a cruise out to the Columbia Glacier. It was amazing and a day of many firsts for Ollie:
First boat ride First whale, bear, otter, seal, and bald eagle sightings First family trip
Columbia Glacier!
We returned to port 7 hours later and left to collect our Leto. We arrived to the caretaker playing Leto the Boz Scaggs song “Lido Shuffle” to try to soothe him. Apparently he cried most of the day. We like to stick together, this fam. So, we all piled into the car in search of sustenance before our 5 hour drive home. On a Sunday. At 7 pm.
If the week leading up to the gig had been a push this was the final haul. The food took what felt like forever and by 8 pm we were on our way, just in time for the rain to set in. A few tears (I’m not crying, you’re crying) and 5 hours later, we were finally home. What a week. A whirlwind week of firsts.
Cheers to many more, though with shorter commutes would be ideal.
With love,
from Alaska
Our second boat ride one week later!
P.S. Do you have Hawaii connections?! We are headed to the Big Island (on the Kona side) and will be looking for work and community. If you have any leads, please let us know.
P.P.S Did you have any firsts this week? Lets hear about them in the comments below!
Oh boy, you guys…I made a boo-boo. You see, apparently, I forgot where I was. We’ve added on and spruced up and I had myself fooled that this place was foolproof and needed to be (wait for it…) perfect.
Perfectly unfinished.
Perfection has haunted me most of my life but when I first moved here, our relationship changed a bit. I had to try things I wasn’t sure I’d be good at (hello chopping wood, skiing, snowmachining, etc…) and (GASP!) work at them until I got better. Imagine my horror! Everything was new and as I attempted each newbie I would oftentimes literally or figuratively fall on my ass. It was a bit belittling, a lot overwhelming and…overall? I think it was really good for me.
Yet as the years went by and things that were once foreign became familiar, I fell out of step with perfection and again we became nemeses. Which is why, when I was doing laundry the other day (INSIDE!) in our new addition on a sunny-ish day (I tell you this just to emphasize just how idyllic the situation was) and suddenly everything came to a standstill I was floored.
The washing machine stopped.
The water stopped flowing.
The power stopped well, powering.
What the…?! I wasn’t as mad as I was stunned. How could this be happening in our new house? I mean, in the old house, sure! Things were constantly not working but not now. I mean, we have a bathtub, for goodness sake.
We are miles away from where we started.
Right?
In so many ways yes. This bachelor pad has become a home to us, to our dogs, and now to our son. We have so many more amenities than I ever even dared to dream of and…we are still in the middle of the woods where everything is prone to breaking down. Damn…I forgot.
As I stood in the middle of our beautiful addition perfectionism reared it’s ugly head and the sunny day got a bit dark and stormy in my head. Why were things breaking?! Why wasn’t everything just working?! Why…
Oh, wait. I’d like to say that in that moment I had my perfectionism epiphany and realized that it was silly to ask why and instead to see what we could learn from the situation but…that took a couple of days and a couple of long walks. I didn’t look for a lesson, I wanted it to be perfect.
Long walk # 2,897,341
Things aren’t perfect out here. Things break constantly. Systems change (I can’t even remember what our power system started as and in 5 years I probably won’t remember what it is today). What worked last year won’t work this year. I know all of this but I forgot it. I think bringing home a babe, you want everything to be perfect for them so much so that it’s easy to forget what’s real. Yet I can either teach him to be frustrated, to look down on the breakdown or…we can learn.
Today, the system still isn’t back to what it once was. We’ve created a new system that circumvents the problem area (a busted pump) and I learned all about GFCI outlets. Instead of focusing on the problem, we found a workaround that is perfectly fine for now, even if it’s not perfect. As it turns out, nothing is.
Nothing is perfect?! Ohhhh no!
So, I tip my hat to you perfection, my friendly foe and greet you again. Perhaps I’ll soon learn that trying to attain you is futile. Perhaps I’ll forget again. You are, indeed, my favorite mistake.
Until then, I’ll try to hold the lesson of the washing machine: learn from your mistakes instead of belittling yourself for them. Enjoy the wonder of finding a new solution. And let perfection go.
Back in college, I remember reading Travels with Charley and falling in love with the idea of the road trip. I was living on the East Coast but not fitting into the suit it required. This, however, this meandering seeking for soul, felt real to me. At the age of 17, I had been on a few road trips, but most were short stints, weekend trips to “visit prospective colleges” (aka check out the party scene and get an obscene speeding ticket). No, the open road had never stretched out in front of me and after diving into the good book, I was chomping at the bit to partake in my own dog-by-my-side travels.
One roadtrip rendition…girlfriends by my side (and on my lap…ha!)
Throughout my teens and twenties, I dipped my toes into road-tripping and fell in love with the unknown the journeys provided. What would happen? Who would I meet? All questions unknown, soon to be answered. Fast forward to the end of my twenties and enter Alaska where suddenly the idea of a road trip took on a whole other meaning. What used to seem like an eon in the car was suddenly just a trip to the grocery store. 8 hours? Nothing. 16 hours in a weekend? Bring it on.
The first time driving back home
Just like how a “hike” in AK (an all-day event complete with vertigo-inducing heights, scrambling up scree, dirty from head to toe) doesn’t mean the same thing as it does in CA (medium terrain, snacks at the top, back down in time for Happy Hour. Heck, it can even just mean a walk, nowadays), what I would have called a road trip (anything over 2 hours in the car) is suddenly just a trip.
However, due to my love of roadtrips, I easily became comfortable with the new meaning an 8-hour drive and treated them as adventures. What would happen? Who would I meet? Countless things, countless people. Some drives I’ve started in the company of an acquaintance and finished with a newfound friend. Some I’ve spent alone, in complete and much needed silence, just me and the road. I’ve had Travels with Leto, Travels with The Chief, Travels with girlfriends and new friends and now…
Travels with…Ollie.
Blowin’ bubbles to pass the time…
Hooooooey! If I didn’t think Alaska amped things up a notch before, I certainly do now. Enter: roadtripping with a newborn, Alaska style (aka a Town Run).
There are 24 hours in a day, but apparently, there can be 24 hours in a roadtrip (one that normally takes 16 hours).
Who knew?!
I had an inkling. I’d done the drive before with a 6-month old and there were LOTS of stops but decided to up the ante with a nearly 2-month-old (tomorrow!).
So, how’d it go? A little like this:
OK, this was from when he was younger and I only took it to show the doc (if necessary) but it well sums up the mood…
Monday through Wednesday: Prep for Town (which is turns out is A LOT slower when you have a newborn strapped to your chest. I didn’t realize how often I bend down until I started trying to avoid squatting an extra 13 fidgeting pounds. It’s difficult, it turns out.
Wednesday evening: Have the typical What time should we shoot to leave tomorrow? conversation. My vote was to wake up extra early and bail…
I lost.
Thursday morning: I was up by 6 am with the baby to address his requests: Milk! Diaper! Milk! Diaper! Smiley play time! Milk! Milk! The Chief slept in (after two straight weeks of 13 hour days) until 8 am and…we were off, right?!
Naw.
By noon, however, we were off! The road out, our 60 mile driveway, if you will, normally clocks in at about 2 hours. By 4 pm we had made it to the end. This was due to be a long day. Had we thought about introducing a bottle pre-trip? We sure hadn’t! Did we wish we had? We sure did! Just before the clock struck midnight that night, we tucked into bed in Anchorage. We’d already done one load of laundry.
Welcome to Town.
Friday: The next morning, we were up early again and off to doctors appointments but not before making the rookie mistake that would plague us all day: we didn’t eat breakfast. By 9 am we were at the midwife and…hungry. By the end of the appointment, we decided Leto needed a stroll. We’d get food afterwards. One lake walk (I made it all the way around for the first time since Ollie was born!) + one bathroom mission + feeding the baby later and suddenly…it was time for our next appointment.
Still no food. We raided the diaper bag snacks. Jerky for breakfast anyone?
At least Leto was happy!
At the next appointment, it turned out that my wrist problem was an actual problem and they wanted to get me into a specialist that day. Our day of 3 appointments suddenly turned into 4. Oh joy! Oh boy. After scrambling to set up this new appointment and schedule an earlier time for Ollie’s checkup there was no time again for…you guessed it! Food. By this point it was late afternoon. Off we went to the pediatrician. After a battery of boohooo inducing shots (actually, he did quite well. A few tears quickly resolved by a little cuddling and a lot of milk) it was finally time for FOOOOOOOD! We ordered and ate as we drove to the next appointment at which they suggested I go to one more appointment that day for my problem wrist. By then it was 5 pm.
By the time we got home, we’d been gone for nearly 10 hours. Thankfully, we’d had a few hours left with our post-birth helper and she did our ENTIRE Costco run for us. We wouldn’t have made it that day. She also brought in a haul of garden goodies. After everything was packed away and processed and everyone was fed, Ollie, ever the champ, was ready to settle in after his pokey procedure, leaving The Chief to manage the remaining chores.
Saturday: Up early, out early, right? You know the drill by now and so do we but somehow we thought we might escape the time suck that is packing up and hitting the road. A little before 11 am we exited Anchorage and again, the first 6 hours of the drive were pretty rocky. We stopped to nurse which turned into a diaper change, which turned into multiple diaper changes and back to nursing and finally back to the road. One stop was over an hour yet back on the road we ventured and by early evening Ollie was ready for a long snooze. Off and on he slumbered all the way home as we pulled in the drive at 11 pm.
Success! Success?
As it turns out, just because you make it home, doesn’t mean you’ve made it home scot-free. The next few days we paid for our expeditious adventure with newborn wails of a timber we hadn’t yet heard. The Chief also received his first phone call from us at work where we were both crying. Oh joy! Needless to say, it was a rough week but as the distance grew between us and our covered distance, things mellowed, patterns returned, lessons were…learned?
We will see. I still haven’t decided which was the lesser of two evils: doing a Town Run with only one day to run about Town or returning home and having The Chief return to work the next morning. Both are unweildy options. Both are the options we have.
So, Travels with Charley? I’d give an 8 out of 10. I don’t remember thinking the prose was as poetic as his other works but it inspired me and that’s nothing to ignore. Travels with Ollie? Ten out of ten, all the way.
*The cuteness may have impaired the scorer’s ability to see reality
Ten?! Reallllllly, Julia? Ridiculous.
OK, OK, in the moment, in the Crying So Hard He’s Turning New Shades Of Red I Haven’t Seen Before moment, sure, in that moment I’m wondering if I can give it a rating below 0. But overall, it was one of those Alaska moments. One of those longer, harder, rockier “hikes” than planned but the one that left you feeling accomplished and adventurous and…just a smidge insane. I think those are pretty solid components to a good life. And now that it’s done, I know that we can do it. Am I looking forward to the next time? In a way, yes (OK maybe that’s the insane portion speaking a little too loudly). But honestly, I love bringing Ollie into our fold and creating memories with him on a journey I’ve traveled umpteen times without him, dreaming of him someday coming to be. It’s not always easy, this life of ours, but it is rewarding. Remind me of that next time the baby cries himself crimson.
Beneath the Borealis 