A Letter to My Girls About God

Dear girls,

Recently, I was asked by the mother of a friend if I had had you two baptised, and I really didn’t know how to answer; I was immediately uncomfortable with the question. I had a fearful flicker that both yes and no were unacceptable replies. And you two sat there, my perfect seventeen month twin girls, and stared up at her sweetly, so blissfully unaware of a world full of loaded questions. But I don’t have that luxury; after a bit of floundering, I finally settled on “not yet”, and was immediately unsatisfied with how non-committal it was. But what else could I say? While I consider myself an immensely spiritual person, I am not and never have been religious; as far back as my memories go, I have been consistently unmoved by my many church experiences. But, I wondered later, does that give me the right to define your upbringing by my own erratic beliefs?

In all honesty, I don’t know what I believe about God. But I do know what I believe about love. I know how I feel when your warm bodies snuggle up to mine, and you kiss me with sticky, searching lips. I know how my heart leaps when I see your smile, beaming with joy and such unaffected innocence. I know how I warm when your dad wraps his arms around me, pulls me close and tickles my smooth cheek with his own scruffy one. I know the peace that comes when I walk alone in the woods, or stand before the ocean, drowning in its palpable power without ever touching the water. I know the way the insecurities and implications and baggage and bullshit in my head are silenced when I settle into a good book. I know the way I relish a good rainfall, the rush liberating me from my limitations, and equally the hot bath after as I slip my chilled skin beneath the scalding surface. I know the deep and ancient happiness that stirs inside me with every new or profound human connection: a smile across a street, a good conversation, a nod of understanding. I know the quiet that comes when I coat my hands with flour in the kitchen, or with soil in the yard. I know the calm I feel when I catch the scent of my mother, or the voice of my sister. I know I cry desperately when I lose someone I love, but even more I know the way I always sense that lost presence present with me in the dark. And I know that I feel an enormous, emanating force within our family’s life and within our little house that keeps us laughing and trusting, steady and sure, even in the hardest times.

I don’t know if any of that is God. I don’t know if it really matters, and I don’t know if I really care.  But I am sure that my soul is full to the brim with love, and that it’s that love, that real, rejuvenating, overwhelming love that conquers all adversity. And whether there is truth or not in God, there is certainly truth in that. So when you’re old enough to ask me about God, as you undoubtedly will, I’m not sure how much I’ll tell you or how much I’ll let you discover on your own. But I will say that unfailingly, no matter how terrible your mistakes or deep your despair, there will always be someone who loves you unconditionally, who will be there to pick you up when you fall.

It won’t be a guess, or a hope, or a lie; I am, of course, talking about myself.

October

Well we’ve entered October, my uncontested favourite month of the year. I love it for so many reasons. The way the leaves swap their skin for rich reds and golds, before falling to crunch underneath my running shoes; the fact that I no longer have to banish my heater of a husband to the other side of the bed, but rather welcome his warmth and let him snuggle in; the fact that curling up in sweatpants with a hot tea and a lineup of horror movies is an acceptable way to spend an evening. But mostly, I love October because to me, this month means possibility. It means a new scent in the air; as I inhale it reaches forward and with a chilled finger touches my heart, igniting a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. October scraps last year’s problems and allows me to believe in the prospect of a fresh start. October is my New Year.

And to me, October also means home. With Thanksgiving comes shared meals and memories with loved ones, and a satisfying fullness that can only be achieved with copious amounts of turkey and laughter. With Halloween there is candy, and Fear Fest, and baking cookies to look like fingers, and hand-making my girls’ Halloween costumes (a frightening prospect that makes it all the more enticing). There is meticulous pumpkin carving, and toasted pumpkin seeds, and then eventual pumpkin smashing when their grinning faces have crumpled inwards. No matter how old I seem to get, there is always something infinitely youthful and unspoiled about the joys of October; needless to say, I spend 11 long months waiting for it to come around.

Last week, my grandfather passed away, and it was the hardest death I’ve ever encountered. He was my last Hutt grandparent, one of my favourite people in the world, and his presence one of the only things in my entire life that has remained constant since childhood. Regardless of whatever happened within my family, my grandpa was always there with a smile, and kiss on the cheek, and a pocket full of Werthers that he’d nudge me towards. When you reach adulthood, you often find yourself disillusioned with the beliefs and people you’d held dear as a child, but I never hit a point like that with my grandfather; he was and continues to be one of the sweetest and dearest men I’ve ever met. But with his passing, a part of my childhood passed too. My world is changing. I am now more aware than ever that I have moved on to a stage of having babies of my own, who may one day make me a grandmother, and I am responsible for forwarding the love and traditions to them that were handed down to me.

And so I will bake apple pie for my family. And we will watch “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”. And I will read my girls all different sorts of books before bed, because “for children 3 and up” is bullshit. And we will colour and get felt pen on everything, instead of watch television. And I will dig my fingers into pumpkin guts and let my girls play with the sticky orange strands and accept the way it ends up all over the house. When it rains, we will go outside and jump in puddles and pick up worms, because it is liberating to brave the downpour. And when evening slinks around with that dark crisp coldness, we will all sit in warmth around the dinner table, and put cell phones away, and simply enjoy being together.

My grandfather may be gone, but my children are not. And neither is October. As familiar and fixed as death may be, my favourite month will always return too, and with it a new season of growth and change for my family and myself. The falling leaves will make way for fresh green ones, the sudden storms will water the hidden flowers, and my daughters will grow as I do and make childhood memories of their own.  The world continues to turn, life goes on, and we must take a deep breath of that sharp autumn air and go on with it. 

“I’m not allowed to date. Ever.”

I was browsing Pinterest the other day, scanning baby girl clothes, which, as a mom of twin daughters, is often my habit to do, and I came across something that really bothered me.

“I’m not allowed to date. Ever.”

In further exploration, I discovered lots of little onesies and shirts similar to this one, many of which threw daddy into the mix with the statement that the no-dating decision was his command.

Now, I’m not a prude. I get it; it’s supposed to be a joke. But in my experience, jokes often veil truths, and this truth isn’t particularly funny; perpetuating the idea that a daughter is a possession of her father, instead of an independent individual isn’t amusing, it’s disturbing. And we are perpetuating it, by continuing to make and dress our daughters in these clothes. Considering the amount of women in the world today who are still being sold or set up in arranged marriages, or murdered by their fathers and brothers for pursuing unapproved relationships, or by their husbands for adultery, I fail to see how telling girls that we control their independence and sexuality is something to laugh about. Sure, perhaps it's just a onesie, and she's only a baby who can't read, so where's the real harm? Well to me, the harm isn't in her reading it as much as it's in the way you view her and may, as she grows, teach her to view herself. 

When you label your child, however innocently meant, as a possession of either of her parents, something very scary can happen: she can start to believe it. She begins to worry about being honest with her parents; "crush" and "sex" become bad words and secrecy begins. What may have been intended as an affectionate means to protect her is seen as a frightening bind that restricts her, and she either caves into it, or rebels against it. Both can produce equally damaging results. Maybe one day she will enter into a relationship where she believes she is under ownership of the man in her life, and allows herself to be beaten or otherwise abused by him; because of what she heard growing up, she does not believe she has the right (and certainly lacks the confidence) to speak out against it.

The truth is, there is an enormous difference between being protective of your child, and possessive, yet the line between these two is often blurred in our culture. As much as we proclaim we are a forward-thinking, equality-supporting society, the reality is that far too many parents are, while well-intentioned, guilty of trying to keep an iron fist around their children, and covering it under a mask of love. But it doesn’t work that way; in my experience, attempting to control your kids and their free will does not effectively show how much you care, but rather undermines their self-esteem and cripples their ability to make choices as an adult.

And this issue doesn't just cover girls, either, I must add; it isn't difficult to find onesies for boys with labels of mom being the only woman allowed in their life, a concept that is just as disturbing as the female version. Again: this isn't cute. It's a joke that more often than not masks a deeply-held truth, a fear of our children outgrowing us or stepping outside our control, and that is where the problem lies. 

So this is what I think. It is not my right, now or ever, to exert or imply that just because I gave birth to my girls that they are my possession. It is not okay to begin instilling in them from infancy the idea that sex, love, dating, and independence are a bad thing. If one day boys (or girls!) have a romantic interest in my daughters, and the girls choose to pursue these avenues, it is not my job, nor is it their father’s job to preach abstinence, or shame them for wanting to go on a date. What it is our job to do is openly and honestly talk to them about the realities and consequences of sex, and then allow them to make their own choices. It is our job to trust them so they will trust us, to let them make mistakes so they can learn from them, and be there to help them up when they fall. It is our job to love them unconditionally, to watch them make decisions we may or may not agree with, and teach them that their own two legs are more than capable of holding them up. And more than anything, it is our job to make sure that NO ONE, least of all us, gives them the impression that anyone other than themselves has ownership or control over their body and what they do with it. 

Maybe instead of shirts that say "I'm not allowed to date. Ever." We can start making ones that say "My parents encourage my confidence & free will!" Or how about: "Mommy and Daddy say I can date boys OR girls, as long as I'm happy!" Or perhaps, just keep it simple: "I am loved, unconditionally."

I'd say that would be a step in the RIGHT direction. 

I Survived!

Well my girls are finally a year old, and after thinking about it for a while, I realized I don’t have much to say except that honestly, it was a really challenging year. More than double the work, and more than double the joy. But what I do know is that I don’t want to talk about the NICU; we celebrated their birthday on Sunday with wonderful friends and family and it was SO NICE to talk about Scarlett and Olivia as they are, rather than as the two pounders they were. I really want to focus on what's ahead of them, rather than their difficult past; that being said, in preparation for the year to come I’ve compiled a list of 25 things my first year as a twin mama taught me. It's my view that studying history is the only way to ensure the same mistakes aren't made in the future, so here we go!

1. Don’t watch Anchorman a few days after a c-section. Tears of laughter will quickly turn into tears of excruciating pain and a tearing incision. “Scotch scotch scotch I love scotch…”

2. Take the time to drink your coffee! When you’re home alone with two crying babies all day, one cup of coffee can sit without being consumed for hours. So practice some self-care, sit down, drink it, and give yourself permission to relax. You don’t always have to be moving to be a good mom.

3. Don’t place an open diaper from baby #1 anywhere near baby #2, as they WILL grab it and throw the contents around the room.

4. Playing nursery rhymes while driving might sound like a nightmare, but it will make you less insane than the constant car tantrums.

5. Speak up when something bothers you. You’re going to have to do it for your children, and teach them to do it for themselves, so you might as well start practicing now.

6. Beware of pushing a shopping cart down a narrow aisle or through the till at the grocery store. Babies WILL reach in opposite directions, grab whatever their little hands can get a hold of, and cause absolute chaos.

7. Lift weights. 2 babies are damn heavy and there will be many times they both want mom to hold them!

8. Everyone you run into WILL say something along the lines of “omg twins? Are they twins? You must have your hands full! Are they identical? Oh really? They don’t look identical. Are you sure? Were they naturally conceived? Oh really? Did you carry them? How? OH, they were preemies, that’s why you’re not enormous. You must have to buy two of everything! Have fun when they’re teenagers! I bet they’re sleeping through the night because you don’t look like a total trainwreck. Two for the price of one! You’re lucky, one pregnancy, instant family! I know someone who has twins. (And I’m going to tell you ALL about it.)

9. On that note, being stared at, pointed at, and talked about loudly whenever you’re in public isn’t exciting, it’s uncomfortable.

10. Old people cannot resist the cuteness that is identical twin baby girls. They will swarm you; just go with it. Besides, they usually have the best things to say.

11. Whatever vehicle you have, make sure the back-middle seat is comfortable, because whenever your husband is driving that’s where you’re going to spend most of your time.

12. Once you have twins you become a part of this multiple moms club, and no one will ever understand what you're going through as well as another member. When you meet one, take every scrap of advice they’re willing to give (and usually there’s a lot of it.)

13. Don’t use adult nail clippers on a newborn. Enough said.

14. Baby giggles are adorable. Twin babies giggling at each other is a day-maker. (Can you say built-in best friend?)

15. Don’t isolate yourself when you’re overwhelmed; reach out and ask for help.

16. All the bratty things you did as a kid and teenager WILL come back to bite you through your children. (Olivia is my little stubborn, bossy, screamy clone. Sigh.)

17. Take advantage of individual cuddles, hugs, and kisses whenever you can get them. With one moving toddler it’s hard, with two who are constantly distracting each other it’s nearly impossible to fill my hug quota for the day.

18. Lift with your legs.

19. Murphy’s law always applies for the rest of the day when someone pukes.  

20. Have a camera ready! Twins do the craziest things when they’re together, like the other day when they started giggling and hugging each other in the bath (we only got a video of the last bit of laughter). You never know what magical moment is about to happen in front of you and some things are too amazing not to be captured.

21. Animal crackers are a lifesaver!

22. One sister will always want what the other one has, even if what’s in her hands is infinitely better. ALWAYS.

23. Be non-judgemental of other moms. You don’t know their journey.

24. Accept that some people won’t be able to understand why you have changed, and why your life has, and friendships may fade away. This is natural and normal, and almost always for the best.

And last but certainly not least…

25. Be prepared for constant curveballs; life is unpredictable, twin life is even more so, and you have no choice but to learn to roll with the punches!

So there you have it! You know, I initially approached my first year of motherhood as a mountain to be climbed, subconsciously thinking that once they turned one I would have scaled the peak and I could coast the rest of the way down. It’s silly really; I realize now that motherhood isn’t a mountain, it’s a journey that, while might contain some big hills, is permanent and ever-changing. Year two will mean many things for my girls, like walking, and potty-training, and filling their little sponge-like brains; as nervous as I am for all of it, I’ve reached a point where I realize that as long as I have my husband and my two sweet girls by my side, everything will be okay. (Particularly if we get air conditioning, cause DAAAAAAAMN this apartment is hot.)
Happy July!

xx 

Early Summer Reads

Well I've been a bit absent lately, but sometimes I think that's a good thing. I know it isn't like this for everyone, but when I spend too much time on the internet I start to feel like my brain is melting and my soul is being sucked out into cyberspace. So once in awhile I put down the phone, put away the laptop, and try to connect with the world around me rather than the one in front of my face; doing so for the past few weeks has made me feel a bit like I'm on vacation. 

This month, I've been doing a lot of scrapbooking, which is something I never thought I would say. Ever.
However, I decided that for the sake of my girls I should create a space where all of their NICU pictures and memories are collected, so one day they can go back and see what the first few months of their lives were like for them (and for us!) Also, it gives me somewhere to put all of the NICU photos without including them in my regular family/baby photo albums... I still feel a lot of trauma from that experience and I'd prefer to trap those memories somewhere I will never stumble upon them by accident. I'm not going to lie, it's been pretty emotional printing and documenting all the captured moments and my feelings at the time, but I'm glad I've finally gotten around to it. In some ways, despite the discomfort, I think processing the experience rather than burying it in a box in my head is helping me heal. 

Speaking of which, this month I've started planning my girls' first birthday party, which is such a crazy feeling. I feel like the party isn't just for Scarlett and Olivia but also for Shawn and I, as the day of their birth was the start of such an overwhelming rollercoaster for us; needless to say, we're both very emotional about it, and are excited yet nervous too for the day to come. That being said, we're both really shitty party throwers/decorators, and we're planning on picking up food trays from the grocery store, so it won't be too fancy, but fancy parties aren't really "us" anyways. I always love looking at birthday parties on Pinterest, but for us making memories and celebrating with those we love is much more important than what colour napkins or balloons we buy, so ultimately that's where our focus goes.

Despite all this, I've still managed to keep up with my reading, of course, so I thought I'd pump out a few reviews and show you all a few books you should DEFINITELY add to your summer reading list if you've got a little time on your hands. 
Check them out, I promise you won't regret it!
Hope you're all enjoying your June... it won't be long now before summer is really upon us!
xx 

Effigy by Alissa York

State of Wonder by Ann Patchett

The Orenda by Joseph Boyden

On The Farm by Stevie Cameron

Icy Sparks by Gwyn Hyman Rubio

Book Review: The Orenda

RATING:

5 cookies out of 5 cookies!

What's it about?

The Orenda follows the story of 3 characters, Bird, a Huron warrior, Snow Falls, his adopted Iroquois daughter, and Christophe, a Jesuit missionary as they interact and weave together a complicated masterpiece about Canada’s early formative years.  

Favourite Quotes:

Too many! This book is such a piece of literary brilliancy that every line could find a place in my favourite quotes. Its poetic pose was an absolute joy to read.

Who would enjoy it?

Anyone with a brain and a passion for literature. Anyone who enjoys reading, period.

What I liked:

I liked everything about this novel. I’ve said this already, but it is truly a masterpiece. Now, when I say that, let me be clear: it’s not a comfortable read. It’s not easy, or pleasant, and it won’t inspire good dreams. It is troubling and haunting and left me shaky long after I’d closed it. But it is an absolutely necessary read. The world the author creates is infallibly real, and so are the characters, and despite the fact that the chapters jump between them, Joseph Boyden somehow manages to make them all equally captivating and seductive which shows his immense skill. The journey they embark on together is complex and bittersweet, an epic odyssey that grows and changes over a period of many years, and we have the pleasure of experiencing it with them through each startlingly unique perspective.

As well, the history relayed here between Canadian settlers and the First Nations tribes they mingle with is disturbingly uncomfortable and made me question not only the actions of my own ancestors, but the beliefs I have about my society and my life. It is terribly sad to see the devastating affect European colonialism had on the First Nations, and the ugliness within the story is only digestible because it is counteracted with incredible beauty and love. Be prepared to laugh, cry, sweat with anxiety, and nearly vomit with horror. The writing is MASTERFUL, and The Orenda is destined to become a Canadian, if not international classic for the ages. There is no forgetting this novel once you have picked it up, and pick it up you MUST! There is a very good reason it won the 2014 CBC Canada Reads competition.

Overall:
If you do one thing this summer, if you choose to read just ONE book, let it be The Orenda. You will not regret it, though you may lose sleep over the haunting images and ideas it leaves behind. 

Book Review: Icy Sparks

RATING:

2.75 cookies out of 5

What's it about?

Icy Sparks is a rather short coming-of-age novel about a young girl growing up in the mountains of eastern Kentucky in the 1950’s with her grandparents, and, undiagnosed Tourette’s Syndrome. This leads to outbursts, “croaks”, eye-popping, and other strange behaviours that isolate the girl from her teachers and classmates and ultimately from the world around her.

Favourite Quotes:

“The world’s my church, not some mess of people crowded together on itty bitty wooden pews.”

Who would enjoy it?

I think this book can appeal to a wide range of readers who enjoy the naivetés and fears of childhood and youth. It has moments of real hilarity, as well as heartbreaking sadness, and you can’t help but root for Icy to find herself amongst all the anxiety and confusion.   

What I liked:

What I enjoyed most of all was ultimately the writing. It was passionate, descriptive, and striking, and inspired much thought. Icy is an intelligent and stubborn girl who the author quickly makes you love, and I really liked following her throughout the story. It reminded me (in a good way) of other books I’ve read about the struggle outcast’s face in society, and I found this particularly endearing. It also had great, authentic southern/1950’s dialogue and style which added depth that kept me moving through the slower parts.

What I didn’t like:

To be honest, while this is clearly a wonderful, intelligent, deservedly-award winning novel, I didn’t much enjoy the last half of it. While Icy is painted throughout the entire story as a very intelligent character trying to overcome her personal demons, in the end (SPOILER ALERT!) she has a “come-to-God” moment at a Pentecostal church and finds solace in religion. The book seems to send out the message that ultimately if you accept Jesus’ love, you will no longer be an outcast, and this felt to me like an incredibly lazy way to end the story. Rather than show Icy learning to get over her insecurities by really facing them, and find a non-religious place of acceptance, the author cops out and turns a smart, agnostic character into a bible-thumping one and I really didn’t enjoy that. While it seems to bring Icy some peace, it sure didn't bring me any.  

Overall:
Despite my displeasure with Icy Sparks, I do believe that it is a book many will enjoy, especially those feel out of place, are searching for spirituality or who themselves have found peace within God’s embrace. It is a hopeful novel with a happy ending, that successfully brings adults back to the world of childhood, and because of this I think it would be a great addition to many summer reading lists. 

Book Review: On The Farm

RATING:

3 cookies out of 5

What's it about?

On the Farm by Stevie Cameron is a true crime novel about the Robert “Willie” Pickton murder case, investigation, and trial. It covers his childhood, youth, adulthood, and murder spree, as well as his family life, the actions of those close to him, personal accounts from friends and neighbours, and, now that the publication ban has been lifted, every detail you could ever want about the investigation.

Who would enjoy it?

Probably anyone who lives in Canada and followed the case of Robert Pickton. Even those who didn’t would still find it a worthy read. It is disturbing, frightening, and highlights the enormous flaws that existed in the Vancouver Police Department at the time, as well as the perspective British Columbians have towards prostitutes.

What I liked:

What I liked about this book was how thorough it was. I didn’t read it with any hope for lovely prose or great quotes, but rather to gain a better understanding of what took place to close to my home, and it provided that abundantly. The novel didn’t focus as much on making Pickton famous as it did the victims, and it bravely pointed out the enormous and frequent terrible errors the VPD made for years as women were disappearing. This book did the case and the murdered women justice, and shows how in many ways the law did not, and I found that to be one of the most compelling and upsetting parts of the novel.

What I didn’t like:

Obviously as someone who really appreciates beautiful writing, I didn’t find this novel very inspiring or stimulating, but of course it’s not meant to be. Inevitably though I struggled with the sometimes almost juvenile way the book was written, errors that should have been corrected in editing, and unnecessary repetitions that came along as though the author didn’t have a very organized grasp on what had been told already and what hadn’t. Reading it sort-of made me feel like I was watching something on television, and I had to alternate this book with another one in order to feel like I was actually working out my brain.

Overall:
In my opinion, a must-read for almost every Canadian. Good prose or bad, it is a page-turner, and the interviews with Pickton, as well as what the police found during the investigation of his farm are unfortunately as fascinating as they are upsetting. It is a necessary read so we all are able to understand why and how a tragedy this epic was able to take place, and prevent it from ever happening again.  

Book Review: State of Wonder

RATING:

4 cookies out of 5

What's it about?

State of Wonder by Ann Patchett is a story about Dr. Marina Singh, a former OB/GYN who, after a grave mistake during an emergency c-section, changes her career and becomes a pharmaceutical drug researcher. When one of her colleagues dies in the amazon, where a fertility drug her company is funding is being developed, Marina goes to the jungle lab to find out exactly what happened to him. Inevitably, it becomes a journey of self-discovery as she begins to understand herself and her actions along the way.  

Favourite quote(s):

“The question is whether or not you choose to disturb the world around you, or if you choose to let it go on as if you had never arrived. That is how one respects indigenous people. If you pay any attention at all you’ll realize that you could never convert them to your way of life anyway. They are an intractable race. Any progress you advance to them will be undone before your back is turned. You might as well come down here to unbend the river. The point, then, is to observe the life they themselves have put in place and learn from it.” 

“It is said the siesta is one of the only gifts the Europeans brought to South America, but I imagine the Brazilians could have figured out how to sleep in the afternoon without having to endure centuries of murder and enslavement.”

“Hope is a horrible thing, you know. I don't know who decided to package hope as a virtue because it's not. It's a plague. Hope is like walking around with a fishhook in your mouth and somebody just keeps pulling it and pulling it.” 

Who would enjoy it?

Anyone who enjoys medical terminology, adventure, scientific discovery, new, exciting environments, and stories with a strong female lead.

What I liked:

I really loved this book. It was incredibly intelligent, and I found myself re-reading many of the passages simply because the scientific and philosophical points being made were fascinating.  Marina is a relatable character who braves her fears with the same uncertainty many would, and watching her adapt to life in the amazon (no western clothes, unshaved legs) is very liberating. The dialogue was also incredibly riveting, as are the adventures she encounters (such as a particularly intense battle with a boa constrictor) and I felt that there was a great ebb and flow between exciting scenes and thoughtful ones. And the way the novel concluded was, while possibly predictable, still successful at bringing me to tears.

What I didn’t like:

Marina’s time in the amazon was easily the best part of the novel, but it felt like it took an unnecessarily long time for her to get there. She spends far too much time in a small town outside of the jungle, battling bugs and illness and anti-malaria drug nightmares, but not really going anywhere, which was irritating. You do wonder if there’s a point to it all, but ultimately there isn’t; it feels that the author is just giving more meat to the story in order to extend its length. Despite the beautiful prose, that was a downfall.

Overall:
A great summer read! Thrilling, and informative and emotional and wonderfully descriptive. I don’t re-read books too often (except for Harry Potter, of course) but this is one I am certain I will return to. 

Book Review: Effigy

RATING:

3.75 cookies out of 5

What's it about?

This novel by Alissa York focuses on the inner-workings of a 19^th century polygamist family living in Utah. It narrows in on the different experiences of each of the wives, as well as their lives before becoming members of the family, and the complicated way they all interact. There is a lot of FLDS history here, as well as the Mountain Meadows Massacre which trickles through the entire story.

Who would enjoy it?

Anyone who finds novels about complicated families interesting, as well as anyone who, like me, finds polygamy fascinating in the same way as they might find a train wreck. If you’ve ever watched the TLC show “Sister Wives” and been so confused yet intrigued by how 3 women could possibly share one man, this is the book for you. It also has tons of American history which is always a good read.

What I liked:

I really enjoyed watching the family dynamic play out in a way that seems entirely unavoidable, given the polygamist lifestyle. The first wife rules with an iron fist and resents her husband, the second wife is the baby maker, the third wife is the one the husband took based on physical desire (and the jealous one who explodes at him if he sleeps with the others) and the fourth wife was married for her skills and not for love or companionship. Learning about these complicated women and their personal histories, as well as their individual relationships with the husband was brilliant. I also loved the way the author delved into another issue with polygamy, which is the relationship between older male children and the younger wives. What also won me over was that while at first the book seemed to jump around a fair bit, at the end the author pulled all the strings together and tied it up so neatly and so brilliantly, that I finished it with a feeling of elation and awe.

What I didn’t like:

At the beginning of the novel there was a lot of graphic cruelty towards animals, which I had a tough time reading. I found myself skipping passages to avoid giving the book up entirely. While ultimately these scenes proved necessary for the characters’ development and the novel’s, I really couldn’t stomach them. Maybe it’s a mom thing! Effigy also gives us too many flashbacks and fragments, as while they are very interesting, they break up the flow of the novel and make it take longer to read.

Overall:
A brilliant, haunting novel that is full of loss and memory, family and deliverance. Effigy builds the most effective dread towards the conclusion that I’ve read in a long time. Stunningly written, with a deep, multi-layered plot that forces you to keep turning the pages and find out where it’s all going, it is certainly one I’d recommend.  

Twinology: 10 Months

Today Scarlett and Olivia turned 10 months old, and I've had to reconcile myself to the fact that they're not at all where I thought they'd be at this point. They're not walking yet, or crawling like other babies their age, they're not pulling themselves up into a stand, and they still get overwhelmed by large groups of people. I'll admit it's been difficult to have a first year that is extended, where I'm unable to mark their progress like that of a full term child because I'm never quite sure when something will happen. But I have to remind myself that they were extremely premature. The first 2.5 months of their lives that other babies spent learning, they spent in incubators with tubes up their noses, sleeping constantly. I have to remind myself that they were born in the heart of summer when they were supposed to stay in the womb until a couple weeks before Halloween. And I have to remind myself that the whole world will compare them to each other and to others, and they in turn will do the same; the best thing I can do is to make no comparisons and simply celebrate them as they are.

So, that being said, things have changed a lot between 9 and 10 months. Their personalities are REALLY starting to show, and it amazes me to see them grow into these two functional little people. Being identical twins, obviously there are a lot of similarities to their personalities. They both are legitimately insane... they love to yell, wrestle, rip mommy's hair out and shove it into their mouths, chew their toes, chew each other's toes, and always seem to want the toy that the other one has. They mimic each other when they're in jumpers, bouncing simultaneously and then laughing hysterically afterwards. They both love the exact same types of food, and haven't shown any dislikes towards the mountains of veggies I pile into their purees. They adore having splashing competitions in the bathtub (Olivia always wins) and are seemingly oblivious to pain when it's delivered by their twin. They also both are incredibly impatient, which, while frustrating as hell, is also something they DEFINITELY inherited from me. Karma? 
Also like me, they LOOOOVE story time... they are entranced by books, and usually the longest stretch of silence we ever get besides naps is when we're reading to them.

But being two separate people, they also have enormous differences too; I think one of the most important things I can do for them is highlight those differences to avoid them being perceived as halves of a whole.

Olivia:

Olivia is my adventurous girl. She is very loud, outgoing, flirty, and easily willing to do a big smile for anyone who talks to her. She loves people, and isn't afraid to make her voice heard... no matter where we are. She is absolutely hilarious, is regularly overcome by this contagious rolling laughter, and thinks she has the funniest parents in the world... (That won't last.) She loves any game that is surprising and a little scary, like being thrown in the air or dropped and caught... anything that makes her gasp is sure to bring delight, so naturally playing with daddy is her favourite thing ever. She doesn't get onto her knees yet, but she army crawls and swivels wherever she wants to go... Shawn and I have taken to calling her Tasmanian Liv by the way she turns circles in her crib and tears up all her sheets. Olivia is EXTREMELY cuddly, will fall asleep on my chest, and is happy to sit on anyone's lap and get hugs and kisses. She is fascinated by the world, and is little a ball of life, energy, and joy. I am certain she is going to be a very passionate, happy, strong-willed individual; she scares me a little bit with her bravery, but I'm so excited to watch her grow. 

Scarlett:

Scarlett, in some ways, is the polar opposite of her sister. She's quieter, more hesitant to trust or smile, and tends to be frightened by loud games or noises. She is certainly a mama's girl, and hates being separated from me, which is equally difficult and wonderful. When she smiles and laughs it's so sincere and hopeful that you can't help but sweep her up into a hug. She loves having conversations; I'm sure she's convinced that all the noises coming out of her mouth are actual words, and she is overjoyed when you respond. Currently she's working on saying "mom", though her favourite is to yell "NEIN!" She is happy being with anyone who talks sweetly and intimately to her, and when she trusts someone she ALWAYS puts her hand on their face or mouth as a greeting. She has been lifting herself onto her knees and rocking, so crawling could come any day for her. Like her mama, she is very stubborn, and has been fighting naps and bedtime like crazy lately. She is a sweet, sensitive little girl who glows when she is happy; it is so easy to see how Olivia and her completely compliment each other and will be the best of friends.

Though some days are difficult (especially when they're teething, which they always take turns doing) I feel like the luckiest person in the world to share my life with these crazy fun little monsters. I am nervous and excited to see what the next couple months will bring as I plan their first birthday party (is it really almost summer?!) and to know that even if they're not able to walk towards their birthday cake when the day comes, they'll at least be able to smash the crap out of it. 

Happy Thursday!
xx

Celebrating Screams

With Mother's Day fast approaching this weekend, I've found that I'm reflecting a lot on something that's been affecting me lately as a mom, something childless me always swore wouldn't. 

But I have to start by being honest about something I'm not very proud of: before having the twins, I wore the ultimate bitch-face out in public. That's right, the one you saw staring at you disdainfully when your child yelled, or spilled something, or pulled down a rack of toys from a shelf. You're in Walmart and your leash-wearing toddler still manages to wreak havoc? Or your normally well-behaved daughter asks for a treat and cries when you say no? That old version of me was more than happy to shoot you the most scornful expression and make you feel like melting into the floor. 

But now with my children having approached an age where they're really using their voices for expression, Olivia has taken to screaming in stores. It's not all the time, and it's not in an angry way, she's just learning to communicate and at this point loud screams or exhalations are the only way she knows how. But I have to say, it really gets under my skin. I've been working on teaching them baby sign language (which they love, by the way!) But they aren't yet at a point where they're able to sign back. And so, Olivia makes noise. Other shoppers never seem to mind... they laugh, or say hello, but at times I feel this burning anger and embarrassment, like the vocal expressions of my under-one-year-old are some sort of reflection of my capabilities. Of course it's nothing to feel ashamed about, but having spent more than one occasion raising an eyebrow at a struggling mom, I find that that same nasty voice is now critical of me, too. Well deserved, I suppose. 

So last night laying in bed after the girls had gone to sleep, my annoyance boiled over and I asked my husband why Olivia felt the need to scream all the time. "It pierces my eardrums!" I said. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going to go crazy."

And Shawn, ever the accepting father, shrugged, and replied: "She's just more vocal."

It was an epiphany! I realized he was right. Olivia screams because she's more vocal. She has things to say! And isn't that a great thing for a girl? Maybe she will grow up to be fiercely opinionated, an excellent debater. Perhaps she will be a politician! Or maybe she has a story to tell, and like her mother she will speak and sing and write ones of her own. Her attempts at communication should be nothing short of celebrated, as an exciting new trait of her blossoming personality. So many girls and women are scared of voicing their opinions... the last thing I should do is make my child feel guilty for being bold enough to speak up. 

So the next time I hear a baby screaming in the grocery store, I won't wince, or cover my ears, or prepare a glare. Instead, I'll look around, seek out the eyes of the mother, and smile. After all, she's got a talker too. And that makes us pretty damn lucky. We're hard enough on ourselves as it is, the last thing any mom needs is a frown that implies she's doing a bad job; I for one have removed that face from my list of expressions, and I think everyone else should too. Condescension is for suckers. 

So (though it really should be Mother's Week) Happy early Mother's Day to all you kickass mama's out there! And to the pregnant ladies as well... carrying a baby is a feat in and of itself. Shouldn't you get a day too?

Ps: some pictures from today of my girls and their crazy hair doing what they do best, aka being little hams. 
xx

Twinology: Park Days

Well May has officially arrived, bringing with it sunshine and 27 degree temperatures! I know it won't last (it never really does in the lower mainland... inevitably the rain always returns), but I've been really enjoying soaking up as much of it as possible while it's here. Today we took Scarlett and Olivia to a big park a few minutes from our apartment for some fresh air and playtime... When I was the same age as the girls I used to go to this park with my parents, so it felt pretty cool to be reliving these experiences with a new generation. 

The day was beautiful! As with any outing with twins, it had its challenges; Olivia had a slight meltdown when I stopped her from eating a dandelion, and when I gave them crackers as compensation she stole her sister's, causing tears. But! I fed them some puréed butternut squash, read a little bit of my book, and attempted to play a round of basketball with my husband, babies on our hips. Now they're down for a nap and I think I'm going to take one as well, but before I do I'll share some photos from the day. 

Hope you're enjoying the sunshine as much as we are!

ps: it's romper season!

xx

Getting a Facelift

So I decided to do a little update on my blog. A little makeover never hurt anybody (unless you're Jocelyn Wildenstein aka the cat lady...)

And I wanted to have a calm, pretty place to share with you. Not only will I be writing tidbits about my life (you can find my new entry about "the in-between" here), but I'll also be adding several different elements! One of which is Book Reviews... I hear ALLTHETIME people asking for book suggestions, not knowing where to start or what genre they even enjoy; books, particularly new ones, can be intimidating, especially if you haven't picked one up for awhile. I want to help ease the transition. If there's one thing I spend a lot of time doing, it's reading; I finish approximately a book a week, and I read a variety, from historical non-fiction, to classics, to mystery, and my goal is to make these books accessible to you. That being said, you can find my very first Book Review here !

I also want to hear from YOU! I see or read compelling things on the news or on social media constantly that I feel strong opinions towards... I would love to hear feedback, or different viewpoints in response! (You can find my article on a botched execution in Oklahoma here .)
All in all, I hope this new blog can be a happy, thoughful place you choose to spend a little time, just like it is for me.

xx

To Kill or Not To Kill

A story out of Oklahoma has been all over the news today, about a botched execution at their state prison... you may have heard about it already, but what happened was that a prisoner scheduled to die (in the first double execution the state has seen since 1937) had a horrible reaction to the new, injected toxic concoction. His vein burst, and he eventually died of a massive heart attack, after writhing and clenching his teeth before witnesses. 

When I read this, I was incredibly shocked and disturbed. Surely, no one deserves to die that way. The death penalty is something that I've never agreed with, regardless of the crime; I don't believe in an-eye-for-an-eye, and I am certain murder in response to murder does not bring peace or healing. 

But then I read about his crime. The prisoner, Clayton Lockett, was convicted in 1999 of murder, rape, kidnapping, assault, battery, burglary, and robbery, most notably of which involved him shooting twice and then burying alive a 19 year old girl, after raping her friend. She undoubtedly suffered incredibly at his hands. Charles Warner, a man who would have been the second execution of the night (had Lockett's gone according to plan) was on death row for the rape and murder of an 11 month baby girl. 

I'm a mom of girls. And if one of my daughters had been the victim of those men, thinking about it now I can't help but feel that the only justice I would be satisfied with would be the death penalty. Of course, I can't presume to know how those parents feel, but I know my own heart and the fact that I don't think I would ever be able to rest until the killer was dead.  

So here I am. One of so many undecided about the death penalty, opinion changing based on the circumstances. The only thing I know for sure is that I don't know what the right answer is. 

What do you think?

To kill or not to kill, particularly when such heinous crimes are involved? What is your idea of justice?