Love for Lica.

So I'm sharing this here because this year my aunt Miriam has set her sights on raising money for an amazing young woman that I have had the pleasure of knowing through my time volunteering in Brazil. Lica is a young mother to three children and is in desperate need of a real little house to replace the one room her family currently lives in. I can personally vouch for Lica's strong work ethic, her undying determination, her ability to overcome adversity and above all else her unrelenting optimism and hope. The story below is my aunt's experience with Lica and it was Miriam who wrote it in order to pass the word along and gather support for the creation of a safe home for Lica and her children. Please give it a read. And if you are feeling generous this holiday season please contact me through the comments section or privately to donate or for more information.

LICA AND ME (Miriam)

I met Lica in 1997 when I arrived unannounced at her ramshackle home.  By then I’d already been volunteering in Bahia for a decade and had seen lots of grim stuff.  But I was shocked to come upon an enraged, drunken woman beating two very little girls. The older one, Lica, then just 7, was curled around a toddler, trying to shield her from the blows.  

Perhaps it was that protective gesture that stapled Lica to my heart. Or maybe it was just that I had the chance to watch this lovely child grow up under burdens and losses so dark they would have done most of us in. Who knows really why the heart lurches in the directions it does?   

All I can say for sure is that this kid captured me and during the two decades since, not that much has changed for the poor on the NE coast of Brazil. The descendents of African slaves and the aboriginal peoples still live at the ugly end of exploitation, corruption and violence.  The social service agencies are still under-resourced, overwhelmed and mired in a moribund byzantine bureaucracy. And Lica is now a young mother trying to protect her own three children from life’s harshest blows and I’m still asking my friends to help me help her.

LICA’S FAMILY HOME   

Lica’s grandmother owned the house. She’d had a steady job cooking in a restaurant 12 hours a day for 20 years and managed to buy a modest two-room house in a low-income neighbourhood.  Poverty,  overcrowding and gross neglect had reduced the place to a disgusting shambles: the dirt yard was filled with rubbish; the roof and walls leaked; the floors turned to mud in the rain;  the furnishings were broken cast-offs; closets were plastic bags nailed to brick walls; and the security system, two gaunt snarling dogs, crapped everywhere. Three adult women and six kids were living in these two rooms.            

LICA’S MOTHER   

Ana was addicted to cachaça, a local brew the abuse of which causes brain damage. She was already visibly impaired by the time I met her.  Lica has dim memories of a kinder Ana before she became a violent, confirmed alcoholic. But all I ever saw was Ana, even when sober, cursing and threatening the children, forcing them to do the chores she never did.  And when drunk, she would beat them with anything she could grab hold of.   

LICA’S DAD   

My old shrink used to say it only took one good parent to raise a healthy child. Lica had neither. The men in her family had spawned and gone.  Lica made several disappointed attempts to connect with her father, who lives in a neighbouring slum.  But he never came through with any support at all.   

LICA’S ELDEST SISTER      

Cristiane was 22 when I met her. She had taken the brunt of Ana’s abuse until she grew big and hard enough to punch her mother out. Unfortunately, Cristiane did not extend her protection to her younger sisters or her own children.  Only intermittently interested in them, she mostly left her kids behind with Ana while she hung out with sequential boyfriends.  

LICA HERSELF       

Lica was an unusually alert and responsive child with a robust survival instinct. She latched onto me and enchanted me with her mile-wide smile  and resilient spirit. She did me much good over the years. There were many times when I felt so exhausted by the unending obstacles we faced that I just wanted to quit. But then I would see Lica bent over a cracked plastic dishpan singing while she scrubbed the family’s dirty laundry.  I know it sounds corny: Lady Bountiful meets Baby Aunt Jemima, but Lica’s innate capacity for joy lifted my spirits and stiffened my spine. If this kid could cope, surely I could.

PROGRESS      

Despite the lack of a responsible adult in this home or any help from local agencies, with the financial support provided by Susan Adams and my sister Katherine Owen back in Vancouver, and the emotional support provided by the local leaders of Street Angels,  the kids in this family were eating better and  attending school.  But life in this impoverished, abusive family was always hard.

TRAGEDY    

When Lica was 10, her other sister, Vivienne, 14, went out one evening with a girlfriend and didn’t return. The friend was killed and Vivi was shot five times and left for dead. Somehow she regained consciousness and managed to crawl out of bushes onto a highway. Surgeons saved her life but they were unable to remove a bullet lodged behind her eyes. 

Vivi was left permanently blind and suffering from severe PTSD.  She refused to identify the assailants or leave the house. She was terrified that the killers would return if they learned she had survived.  Ana’s response to this tragedy was to be angry at Vivienne for having brought the attention of the police to her door. Lica was afraid to leave the side of her helpless sister because, “Someone has to stand guard over Vivienne”. Indeed, little mother, but it shouldn’t have to be you.

We scoured the city for a residential school for the blind and found nothing available for the poor.  Street Angels’ donors paid for a private facility.  After a year, Vivi was recovered enough to want to go home to visit her sisters. Within a few days of being home, Vivi contracted an intestinal infection.  Blind and disoriented with fever, she lost control of her bowels and soiled the bed.  Ana set to beating her with a broom handle. Lica ran to a neighbour for help. The police arrived too late. Ana’s blows dislodged the bullet and Vivienne died in her bed.     

There were no official consequences to the killing of Vivi. Since the  State neither removed Ana nor provided a safe place for the children, we built two add-on rooms, the larger one for Cristiane’s children and the smaller room (about 7’ x 10’) for Lica. We furnished both with separate entrances, lockable doors, a sink and a toilet so the kids could attend to basics without running the risk of disturbing Ana. And they could lock themselves in when she went on a rampage.

LICA’S TEENAGE YEARS      

Amazingly Lica continued to flourish. She developed into a strikingly beautiful adolescent.  She kept herself and her room carefully groomed. A diligent and ambitious student, she took, and did well in, every after-school training program we offered.  By 14, she’d set her sights on becoming a policewoman because as she explained: “I love their uniforms. And I’d be one of the good cops because I know what makes kids become thieves. And nobody messes with a policewoman.”  

By now, Ana had taken to screaming insults all night and wandering the streets semi-naked by day, obsessively cursing her thankless daughters.  Having a debased version of King Lear for a mother was a constant source of humiliation for Lica.  Faced with a daily gauntlet of local louts’ tormenting with lewd jibes, few teenagers could hold their heads as high or work as hard at improving their situation, as Lica did.              

But this girl did more than tough it out.  She often expressed genuine concern for her mum, especially when Ana’s physical health began failing. Lica was no Goody Two Shoes.  She could laugh with wicked delight when I mock--prayed for her demented mother’s demise. But the reality underneath our banter was that Lica longed for a kind, sober mum.  I’d often seen her patiently washing and feeding the blunted sot. And I knew she was doggedly searching for a free rehab centre in the enduring hope that Ana could be made sober and kind.  I was less optimistic but loved Lica for her tenacity, initiative and heart.      

One day Ana woke saying she had dreamt she was on a date with Zico, a soccer celebrity.  Lica got an idea.  Acting on her own, she contacted the producers of a popular reality TV show in which a poor person’s dreams come true (sort of a cross between Jerry Springer and The Wish Foundation).  Lica described her mother’s alcoholism and failing health (but not her violence) and suggested that Ana might be enticed into a treatment centre if a date with Zico could be arranged and that would make a super good double-dreams-come-true episode.    

To my surprise, Lica’s pitch was chosen for airing.  And there we all were, watching our enterprising Lica on TV cheerfully showing the blowhard host around the wretched family home while he badgered Ana into accepting the deal: 30 days in a recovery centre for a date with Zico. (The soccer hero was spared the date because Ana bolted and defaulted to booze after a week in rehab).

FIRST LOVE     

Of course, underneath Lica’s pride and resourcefulness, was an abused child hungry for love.  The first cute boy who kissed her hit pay dirt. At 14 she fell in love and happily flung herself into Eros Heaven. I’d been boring all the girls in our project for years with safe sex talk and we gave out condoms like Chiclets.  But often our prophylactic efforts proved to be straws in the wind of teenage passion.  Lica’s stay in paradise was unusually brutal and short.  

TRAGEDY AGAIN    

The cute boy, 15, had left school and was hanging around with the wrong crowd.  He was picked up by the police.  Fearing that all-too-common consequence of arrest for black kids - death-while-in-police-custody, Lica defied a big taboo. She raced to the police station to vouch for her boyfriend’s character. No one in the favelas trusts or turns to the police.  Even our enlightened local project managers were furious with Lica for involving herself (and, indirectly, them) with the police.  The police bullied Lica and slapped her around and locked her in jail for two days.  But eventually both kids were released.  A few days later, the undaunted, terminally-foolish boy tried to shoplift some candy from a drugstore. The owner chased him out firing a gun.  The boy was dead in the street before his 16^th birthday.

BABY MAMA    

And within a month, Lica, still devastated by the loss of her first love, discovered she was pregnant.  Lica was more afraid of Ana and an abortion than of having a baby.  Being a teenage mother is normal in the favelas; while abortions are illegal, dangerous and a deadly sin.  The birth was easy, the baby healthy and Lica a super conscientious mother at 15.

She missed a year of school and carried baby Andre with her everywhere as she struggled to feed and clothe herself and him on her bursaries which totaled less than $100 a month.  To make ends meet, she did daily domestic work whenever she could find it. But still hoping to become a policewoman, she returned to night school determined to satisfy the eligibility requirements for the police academy.

The psychological toll of extreme poverty is relentless.  There was never enough money to pay for the beans and the propane gas to cook them and the hydro bill. Their hydro was cut off. She worried constantly about baby Andre being left in her room in the dark with only a candle and a 12 year-old niece to keep him safe from Ana whose alcoholic storms continued unabated.   

At 17 she found Manuel to help her. He’s a decent, quiet motherly sort of young man, who offered her emotional support, kept Ana at bay, and patiently babysat Andre while Lica went to night school.  She, Manuel and Andre were now living together in her little 7’ x 10’ room.  She equipped herself with an IUD and for a year it looked like she might yet make it to graduation and the police academy. 

BIOLOGY, POVERTY, GOD & THE LAW EQUALS DESTINY   

Unfortunately Lica developed a pelvic infection and the IUD had to be removed.  In the month between its removal and the arrival of the free birth control pills in the public health clinic, Lica conceived again.  She didn’t want another baby but Manuel didn’t want her to have an abortion.  Eventually Lica decided she couldn’t risk losing Manuel and it wasn’t fair of her to ask him to look after her child while she “murdered” his. Besides, who was she to defy God’s plan?   

Baby Matias was born with badly bowed legs – probably a result of Lica’s deficient diet during gestation.  He required special medical treatment and leg braces which meant Lica had to trudge for weeks through the complex labyrinth of the public medical system trying to find help for him. Worried and exhausted, she lost track of the fact that conception can occur while still nursing an infant. Lica was pregnant again before Matias was 3 months old.  And this time, grim reality overcame all scruples. She wasn’t yet 20, had two children to support, no regular income and so she tried desperately to terminate this third pregnancy.    

Affluent Brazilian women of course have access to licensed doctors who for a fat fee perform safe abortions in private offices.  But poor girls like Lica rely on cheaper methods: handfuls of morning-after pills, toxic chemical brews, back-alley knitting needles.  Lica tried everything and nothing worked and now she was terrified the baby would be born deformed.  By the time I found out what was happening and a professional friend located a cooperative physician, he refused to perform the D & C because Lica had passed the first-trimester cut off date.  We all held our breath until Tisiane, a beautiful normal girl baby, arrived. 

Thanks primarily to Lica’s capacity for hard work and love, five years later, Lica’s three kids, now aged 5 to 10,  are healthy, lively and in school.  Unfortunately, Manuel, the father of the youngest two, has turned out to be almost as much a liability as asset.  He has a learning disability, left school in Grade 3, is illiterate and has no family to help them at all. In a region of widespread unemployment and fierce competition, only men with extraordinary determination and physical strength can keep up the daily hustle required to find, and do the hard dirty work of unskilled day labour.  And that’s just not Manuel.  

Manuel is passive and slow – both mentally and physically.  He would drive me crazy. But I can totally understand why Lica needs him. He’s non-threatening, affectionate, patient with the children and helps her  by running errands and babysitting while she hustles whatever work she can find – cooking, cleaning, taking in laundry.  His passivity gets on her nerves; her bossiness on his. But I’m not sure that she or the children would be better off without him.  

Ana and her dogs still occupy the main part of the house.  Lica’s  7’ x 10’ room is now insanely crowded with five living in it. Lica keeps it as clean and neat as anyone could.  But it’s so small the children must eat, sleep, play, do their homework, watch TV and fight on their bunk beds. Lica and Manuel have no privacy at all. Their bed is an old single foamy kept rolled up under the bunk beds during the day. When unfurled at night, it fills the entire remaining floor space of the room.  Living like this produces endless tensions and conflicts from which there is no escape except to the dangerous streets.

Lica has the birth control situation in hand and impatiently waits for the day she will be deemed legally old enough to qualify for a tubal ligation. In a machismo patriarchal society, a woman’s reproductive organs are not her own to command.   

(A couple of years ago the Church refused to grant permission to hospital physicians who applied to abort a 9 year-old girl who was carrying twins after having been raped by her step-father.  The doctors won the battle of public opinion but the whole ugly process made it clear that biology is still destiny for poor women in Brazil).

I know Lica has enough smarts and gumption to manage the daily grind but she will never produce enough to be able to provide her family with a modest 2-bedroom home.  In a similar low-income neighbourhood close to the city’s resources, you’d be lucky to find one for $CDN30,000. I planned to leave her a bequest in my will. But my parents lived to their mid-90’s. So I have decided to try and raise the funds while they still might do Andre, Matias, & Tisiane some good.  

The streets beckon seductively to kids forced to live like this.  Even good parents lose them every day to drugs, disease and death. I lost count after 55 lads were murdered by gang warfare in the small favela where we were based.  It’ll probably take me some time and numerous parties and garage sales to raise enough to get Lica and her kids a decent home. But I intend to keep at it.   And in the meantime, I just hope that she can continue to hold things together until I  can, with a little bit of help from my friends, do my part.  I’ll let you know how things turn out.  And thank you for making the time to read this too-long history.           

Stuff I Found on the Internet

I thought I knew about most things parent/baby/kid related but I didn't know that parents were intentionally doing this. Usually I hear the standard complaints from parents whose kids were born "too late" in the year and have to wait for the next Kindy start - which I understand would be totally frustrating.

On the one hand I can see how it may seem an attractive prospect for parents hell-bent on keeping their kids at the top of the pack but as the article explains, the strategy might not work out in the long run. Babe actually started at group daycare quite early and was the youngest by far at her program in Smithers. I actually found that she benefited a lot from being around older kids at such a young age. It didn't take long before the skills she had acquired at "school" outshone others her age who weren't exposed to older children and the subject matter they were working on with their teachers.

Of course, I still believe that in the long run...whatever early skills your child gained in the first couple years will even out by the time Kindergarten rolls around and most kids will be at about the same level.

Anyway, I found the article interesting so give it a read.

Holding children back a year in school is not the right start - The Globe and Mail

I'm a Disneyland Convert!

So originally I was going to write a long, detailed post with a ton of information about how I planned our trip to Disneyland and how those plans paid off at the parks but you know what? There's a bunch of really great blogs and articles online written by people who spend a lot of time at Disneyland and those articles will be way more informative for you than anything I write based off of one trip. So instead I'll just share a bunch of our photos here and a few tips that I found extra helpful and I'll link to some of the other great sites at the bottom for anyone looking to plan a family trip to The Happiest Place on Earth.

I'll start by saying I'm not a Disney fan. I don't like animated movies, I'm not into sparkly, pink princess crap. I have no attachment whatsoever to any of the Disney charcters. And being fairly introverted the idea of huge crowds and long lines makes me feel cranky just thinking about it.  So when I planned to take Babe to Disneyland it was one hundred per cent for her. I didn't think I would enjoy it very much, I wasn't really looking forward to going (other than to be there for Babe as she had fun) and basically I was just assuming it would be a five day Babe Shit Show where she just ran wild and I grinned and bared it in the name of parenting.

But now, I'm a total convert. I drank the Kool Aid. The promoters, marketers and all the staff members (pardon me, cast members) of Disneyland have conspired together to make sure that everyone who comes through their gates never really leaves. I was so anti-Disneyland before and so pro-Disneyland now that I have legitimate concerns that it might be a brainwashing cult.

We had so much fun. Seriously. So. Much. Of. It.

I'm usually pretty good at finding things to complain about when reviewing something. Even if I really like something I can easily recognize and acknowledge its flaws. But not so much with Disneyland, there really was so very little disappointments or annoyances that they aren't even worth mentioning as things for you to try and avoid with a future trip.

I will say this. At first I was thinking I wasn't going to plan out the days at the parks very much. I thought it would be better to just focus on the experience being for Babe and basically let her guide the show without much planning on my part. But that failed when I fell victim to my own bullshit patterns and (like a typical journalist) I researched the shit out of our trip. Within a couple days of pretty intense research I realized that if I wanted Babe to have the free and easy-paced schedule that I was envisioning while still getting to taste a lot of what the parks had to offer - I HAD TO PLAN.

Seriously...it's pretty much mandatory to plan out your trip if you want to see as much as you can and especially if you want to use your time effectively and have lots of free time while you are there. Not planning will result in long line waits, confusion, frustration and missing a bunch of stuff that is either scheduled simultaneously at opposite ends of the park or simply gets crossed off the list because it's just too damn hard to free float through the Disney Sea with little ones in tow and no direction in mind.

In the end I completely deviated from my no-plan plan and ended up with three days worth of an impeccably laid out itinerary. But it worked for us and despite the intense crowds and low patience threshold of a three-year-old me, we had a pretty leisurely time and got to hit pretty much everything that I wanted us too.

Planning Your Days:

• Read up on Disneyland and California Adventure FastPasses and USE THEM! 

• Get the FastPasses for shows like Fantasmic, World of Colour or character Meet and Greets right when the parks open. Holding these won't stop you from then grabbing your first ride FastPass but after that there is a waiting period before you can grab another FastPass.

• Download a park map before you go and plan out rides and activities according to areas. That way you can knock off a bunch of stuff at the same time without criss-crossing the park. Because trust me, no matter how good your shoes are, by the end of the day you will want to cut your feet off.

• If you get a three-day or more pass you'll get an early Magic Hour (where you get let in an hour before the park opens on ONE day) USE IT. And plan on cramming in a handful of rides during that time. We got more rides done in that one hour than we did at any other time during our stay. NOTE: Not all rides are open during the Magic Hour so look up the list ahead of time and plan to hit a bunch in the same general area instead of wasting your hour criss-crossing the park.

• DON'T arrive right at 8:00 am for the Magic Hour opening. Arrive at about 7:15-7:30 am. Even though it's way less busy there will still be a big line waiting to get in for the early hour.

• Plan lunches, indoor shows and indoor activities for the middle of the day if you are going during the hot season. Not only will you get some relief from the sun but it'll buy you more time out of the crowds and mid-day is nuts at the park. 

• Do yourself an extra solid and reserve your lunches (if you aren't packing them in) ahead of time. It'll be way easier knowing you have a spot waiting for you somewhere. The restaurants get super busy, especially at peak mealtime hours.

Saving Money:

• Well to start with we didn't stay at one of the Disneyland Hotels. They look AMAZING and almost all the reviews say that they don't disappoint but there was no way I could afford it on this trip. So we stayed at one of the neighbouring hotels right nearby. I looked for a good deal, grabbed it when I found one and our hotel - Holiday Inn and Suites - didn't disappoint. For what I paid it was a smokin' deal and although the rooms are a little small and it didn't have all the perks of the D-resorts it did have a lovely pool and splash park and we really only slept there and swam a little anyway.

• We packed a lot of snacks but I chose to spend money on restaurant lunches mostly to get out of the heat and crowds. But you can bring pretty much as much food as you want into the park so as long as you're willing to pack it around then that'll save you cash cuz Disneyland food ain't cheap.

• For the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique I opted out of the full package because it cost so much and instead purchased a princess dress at the Disney store at home (when it was on sale) and brought it with us the day she was going to the spa. That move saved me about $50 right there.

• I read a tip on another page about bringing along little items to entertain the kids in lines and while waiting for parades etc. and it worked out great. It was a fun surprise for Babe when we arrived at the hotel, kept her distracted when I whipped one of the items out in line and saved us money on purchasing things like bubbles and light up wands. Actually we did buy a bubble gun on site because so many kids had them and it was a worthwhile purchase because it kept Babe so entertained. For the surprise box I simply bought a little Disney box at a dollar store and filled it with bubbles, light up night sticks, a little fan, stickers, a Disney autograph book (also expensive to buy on site), some Tinkerbell pens, glow sticks and stuff like that. She got it when we arrived at the hotel as a welcome to Disneyland greeting package.

• We ate breakfast at the hotel (kids ate free) or we just ate snacks on the walk there. So we saved money on extra meals that way. We also brought our own travel cups and thermos of water and refilled them at the park because drinks inside Disneyland are very expensive.

• We skipped paying extra for a Park-Hopper Pass which allows you to move back and forth between Disneyland and California Adventure. Babe is still too small to get dragged all over and there was waaaay more than enough to see just in one park without moving between the two. For me it wasn't worth the extra money.

• Holy Shit! Avoid the face painting!!! I didn't think to ask how much it was because I thought it would be like $5. It turned out to be $20 just for Babe's forehead. I almost choked. 

Splurges I'm glad I made:

• The Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique. It's not my personal style and I was reluctant to encourage Babe in this Toddlers in Tiaras manner and it felt almost sick to spend so much money when she was already being so spoiled by even going to Disneyland...but she really did just love the experience so much and she felt so special running around Disneyland all dressed up. Like I said before we opted out of the full package with dress included. But she got to show up, put on her dress and get her hair, makeup and nails done complete with a crown and a pound and a half of sparkles all over her. She is still talking about it and having it on the first day was a pretty magical way to kick off the trip in her mind. Book early (we're talking some people book months ahead). I did get a spot reserved with only about a week before our trip though and there are people who just walk in so don't stress too much if you don't think of booking until closer to your departure.

• A character lunch. We chose Ariel's Grotto because Babe is obsessed with Ariel and it was her best chance to meet a bunch of Princesses at the same time while not standing in long lines or using up a big chunk of the day chasing them all over the park. The lunch was pretty damn pricey but the food was really decent and Babe was so excited to have the princesses come around to her table that I found myself tearing up over it all. Really for the price (about $50 a person) it got us out of the heat, fed us, gave Babe a totally magical experience and saved us a ton of time on trying to find all those princess on our own. I also tried to book her in for Breakfast with Mickey or at Goofy's Kitchen but with only a week before our trip every reservation was GONE. If you want a spot at those tables you'd better call way ahead.

• Special souveniers. I'm glad I bought things like light up toys and the Disney autograph book at home but we did splurge on a few special souveniers for Babe that she loves and that we think are really special. Plan to spend a decent amount of cash on souveniers because there's just SO MUCH SHOPPING in the two parks and in the Downtown Disney District. Buy the cheap fun stuff at home and bring it with you and use your spending money for some key items that you or the kids want. 

Safety for Little Ones:

• Take a photo every morning of your child in the clothing they are wearing to the park so you have it on hand in case they disappear.

• I grabbed some labels from work and wrote my name and phone number (not Babe's name) on the labels and stuck them to her back in case she got lost.

• I pointed out the cast member uniforms and let Babe know that is who she should look for if she was lost.

• I also photographed both sides of our Disneyland passes (which you have to keep for your whole visit) just in case I lost them.

• I packed two bags. One filled with all our food, spare clothing etc. And one little bag that had my wallet, tickets, phone and money. The big bag stayed with the stroller and the little bag came with me on all the rides.

An example of our itinerary for one of the Disneyland days 

just to give you an idea of how I went about saving time and maximizing our day:

• 7:30am At park to get in line for Magic Hour. Stopped at Disneyland City Hall as soon as gates opened to get Babe her free FIRST VISIT button.

• 8:00-9:00am Hit the rides I knew would get long lines. We started with the Finding Nemo ride because I knew Babe would love it but had heard the line is really boring, gets super long and there's no FastPass option. Then went to Fantasyland and stayed in that area doing a bunch of rides to knock them off the list.

• 9:00-9:30am Ran and grabbed FastPasses for the early nighttime Fantasmic Show so we would have a good spot to watch. Grabbed a FastPass for a busy ride I knew we wanted.

• 9:30-Noon: A couple more rides and free play.

• Noon: Appointment at Bibiti Bobbiti Boutique to get Babe out of crowds and sun.

• 1:00-4:00pm Lunch and then more rides, FastPass ride, free play in Toontown.

• 4:00-7:00pm Returned to the hotel for a nap and food. There is an afternoon parade but we planned it for another day.

• 8:30pm Got in line with our FastPasses for the Fantasmic Show.

• 9:00-9:30pm Fantasmic Show. Totally worth it!

• 9:30-9:45pm Stayed at the Fantasmic location and watched the fireworks from there. Not a great view but impossible at that point to cross the park in the crowds and get a better spot for the fireworks.

• 10:00 to 11:00pm Fought last of crowds who haven't left after fireworks to find a good spot to watch the second showing of the Paint The Night parade. Also totally worth it. One of Babe's favourite parts of the trip. If you have a second adult one can save a spot for the parade while the other takes the kids on another ride.

• 11:00-12:00am Watched the parade and a couple last rides before heading home. My feet hurt.

So I just want to say that I had originally planned this trip as just a Mommy and Babe bonding adventure. Which I was nervous about taking on on my own but excited to do at the same time. But a couple days before we left my mother decided to join us so I did have a second pair of hands after all.

But for all the single parents out there I want you to know that this trip is totally doable - with one kid anyway - and you will have A LOT more fun than you might think. In fact I took Babe by myself every day for the first half of the day and I actually found it easier than trying to accomodate another adult with us. Looking back I totally could have managed the whole trip on my own with the right planning and I am fully confident that any of you single mommies or daddies can too. It is not as daunting as it might seem and the experience of seeing all the magic through your child's eyes really is priceless. I'm so glad we went.

Please feel free to ask me any questions if you are planning a trip soon. Or scroll to the bottom of this post for links to information that I found really helpful.

And here is a list of links to other blogs and websites that can totally help you plan your trip!

Disneyland Website

DLR Prep School

Disney Tourist Blog

Undercover Tourist

35 Hacks for taking kids to Disneyland

The Diaper Minefield.

I just wanted to let you all know that I have started a new Facebook group for parents wanting to chat about the hot button topics of parenting.

I've found that in an attempt to keep everything running smoothly in parenting groups the more controversial topics of parenting (and there are many) are often sort of avoided.

If you want to chat with other parents about everything from vaccination and circumcision to private schooling, breastfeeding, technology and toys please join us.

Be prepared for some heated discussions hopefully filled with a sense of humour and respect for all viewpoints.

We want parents from all different walks of life and with children of all ages. Whatever country you are in, come and join us. The page is based out of Vancouver so some topics will be geographically irrelevant to you but so much of what we are dealing with as parents transcends all borders.

Can't wait to engage you in some healthy debate and some trading of information!

 https://www.facebook.com/groups/thediaperminefield/

Stuff I Found on the Internet.

Just some stuff to share with you all in case you haven't seen it.

The first is a funny video from Story of This Life that features a toddler helping Mom out during the day and really shows why it now takes me twice as long to get the same amount of stuff done as it used to. Of course because I work full time but still like a clean house this is all compacted into the evenings.



OK the kid in this video is way younger than Babe. Should I be concerned that she still does ninety per cent of this crap? Of course she no longer sits in a highchair but the dishwasher, the laundry folding, the drier, the windows...that's all the same three years in. The dryer scene especially really spoke to me. Babe loves to help to put the laundry in the washer and dryer, but she is so over eager to get the job done that she is constantly throwing the colours in the whites as fast as I can pull them back out and closing the dryer door every time I turn around to get more wet clothes. I guess her helping around the house is a work in progress.

She also likes to help fold the laundry. Of course, her idea of helping fold the laundry is to pull all the already clean and folded face cloths out of the closet, unfold them all and throw them on the floor and then re-fold them all. See exhibit A titled "The Face Cloth Train" below.

The second is also a video by Story of This Life which features the cliche clean freak mom and the cliche laid back mom.



I'm definitely the laid back mom according to this video. Babe eats stuff that falls on the floor, climbs all over the playground with minimal supervision and I don't think I've ever cleaned off a public high chair in my life - unless there was a glaring booger on it. Even then my go-to approach would likely be to flick it off with a stir stick.

The video is a funny little clip although I do think it kind of paints the germaphobic mother in a more negative light. Certainly the laid back mom would be more likely to be a second or third time mother in most cases. I'm of course a first time mom but because I nannied for so many little ones I guess the over-protective impulse kind of wore off. I simply can't be bothered to disinfect everything or shadow Babe's every movement and ultimately I don't think it is healthy for Babe. Of course we do end up suffering through our fair share of sicknesses, which always sucks. Currently Hand, Foot and Mouth disease is going around Babe's preschool. My attempts to prevent Babe from getting this pain-in-my-ass disease was to instruct my three-year-old to not put stuff from school in her mouth.

And to avoid the inevitable head lice infestation I have told her not to wear other kid's hats or hair bands. I'm not an idiot, I don't have expectations that my toddler will listen to my warnings and diligently remember to follow my advice...but so far, passing the responsibility onto her seems to be the extent of what I'm prepared to do to avoid these ailments. Short of keeping her out of school or away from other kids in general I'm not sure what else I realistically can do.

But there's no way she will remember my warnings and I fully expect to be hit with festering mouth sores and itchy scalps any day now. And yes, I will complain about it despite my lack of prevention techniques.

Now something a little more serious.

I read this opinion article last month and haven't had a chance to share it until now. I think it is really interesting and touched on a lot of the same things that I feel about raising children without religion.

Read it HERE.

Seriously, GO. Read it. It'll either speak to you or really piss you off, either way it'll kill five minutes. Then you can come back here and agree with me or get pissed off again.

I've thought and thought about what to say about the topic here which is probably why it took me so long to finally post it. I have strong beliefs on this in line with the LA Times article but I realize other people have strong beliefs the other way and some of those people matter to me. So for now I have decided not to say too much and to simply share the article for anyone who is interested.

I will say that my hackles do get up at any suggestion that simply because my daughter isn't being raised with devotion to a specific faith she will somehow lack a moral compass or always feel empty without His love. I am not religious but I am certainly spiritual and curious. I don't feel alone or lost without a designated faith and I don't believe my daughter will either. I do see the value of emotional security, structure and moral guidance in religion, I can see how it can give someone a sense of purpose and belonging. However I don't believe children raised without it can't have the same. We do however discuss the possibility of God and the vastness of the universe and the idea that our loved ones who have passed may be somewhere better or may have started again as babies. And for now she does seem to enjoy saying prayers at night and thinking up things to say thank you for which I see nothing but benefit in doing.

Some of you might remember a post I did back before we moved up North when I took Babe on a tour of various religious facilities in Richmond, it was an awesome day and we will do it again when she is a bit older. I recommend everyone go. I see it as my job as her parent to expose her to as much as I can. Give her as much information as I can. Have her meet as many types of people as I can. So that when she is grown she will be open-minded. Curious. A free-thinker. Thirsty to learn. Able to adapt. And accepting of others not like her. Then hopefully she will be able to make choices about the person she wants to be and what she wants to believe without feeling like she will be a disappointment to her family for following her heart. But even without the guidance of God she is still being taught every day to have strong ethics, to stand up for what she believes is right, to weigh information and the views of others, to do the right thing, to be grateful every day for her blessings, to make a positive impact on her world and that there are consequences for her actions here and now.

OK. I'll drop it for now. But there's no promises that I won't go into more detail at a later date if I feel that I am being respectful. With the stuff going on around the world with the fighting between various religious groups over everything from terrorism to women's rights to medical procedures and parenthood it's a topic I, like many other parents feel strongly about.

Hold onto your boots because I'm also considering how to comment on the great vaccination debate which appears to be really amping up this year.

PS.

Awesome Mother Moment of the Day:

It took me until 4:30 pm at work to remember that Babe put stickers on my back when I was getting dressed this morning. Perfect.

Damn You, Sexy Nurse!

Babe just before her first Halloween. The day of she actually went out dressed as an owl.

Been looking for a Halloween costume for Babe.

I know this has been in the news around Vancouver lately but I'm getting so frustrated that of course I want to weigh in as well.

So,

To pretty much every Halloween store in the Lower Mainland:

Are you fucking kidding me with the options for little girl costumes this year?

Why are the only choices for my three-year-old daughter either a Disney princess or a sexy version of anything else?

When she was smaller I could get her the cute, warm, fluffy costumes from places like Old Navy. But now that she is bigger we have been looking at other ideas. And I am so disappointed.

Why is it that in order for my not even three-year-old daughter to dress up for Halloween she has to look sexy. Why can't we find a regular nurse costume? Why does it need to be Stripper-Nurse? For a fucking toddler.

Babe wanted to be a lady bug. I've been to a bunch of stores. But do you think I could find a regular chubby, round ladybug costume? Nope, not this year. (And I'm kicking myself because I actually do have exactly that in storage and can't find it.)

Every single one was ladybug wings with a short little dress attached. And when Babe's second choice was a cat I thought that would be easy peasy. But nope. Same shit. Every cat costume was cat ears, a tail and a tight-fitting leopard-print number usually reserved for the only clothed scene of a porno movie.

But one isle over, in the boy section - lots of realistic, warm and practical lion and tiger costumes.

I got so sick of seeing the same damn Disney Princess costumes and tight, short-skirted everything else costumes that I finally took her over to the boy section of the store. And I shouldn't have to do that. If she wants to be a doctor there should be an appropriate doctor costume in the girl section.

Because that is the whole point of a uniform isn't it? It's basically the same for everyone. Real firefighters, policemen, doctors and soldiers dress almost exactly the same, regardless of gender.

But not for Halloween. The boys can be regular doctors, the girls are limited to hooker-doctor. Like the only way a woman should perform surgery is if she still manages to look beautiful doing it and remembers to carve out time to perform blow-jobs in the evening.

At the last store we went to, the boy section had; dinosaurs, zoo animals, firemen, policemen, zombies and construction worker costumes. Perfectly age-appropriate and fairly close to realistic for $30. But the whole girl section was pink, sparkly and slutty. And the only costume that wasn't pink and slutty was an offensive First Nations costume...which was brown and slutty. And remember...I'm looking at costumes for THREE to FIVE year old girls.

Even the days of the ever-faithful, big round pumpkin costumes are gone. Or at least they're gone for the girls. The girls get Pretty Candy Corn Princess (which is just marketing for a striped orange miniskirt). Of course, in the boy section - regular fat pumpkin costumes.

And the sick thing is I can't even blame the stores because it's the consumer that's buying this crap. We continually overly sexualize women at younger and younger ages, hold them up to impossible standards of beauty, convince them early on that no matter how hard they work they'll have to look good doing it too and now a little girl can't even trick or treat on Halloween without freezing her buns off in some sick, booty-shorted version of a policeman costume.

And then we turn around and over-protect the same daughters because there's so many perverts out there who sexualize kids. Well, gee...I wonder why?

Over my cold, dead corpse is my daughter dressing up in anything even remotely sexy before high school, and definitely not before she enters kindergarten. For now, she can get something from the boy isle and I'll take another twenty minutes out of my busy day to talk her out of a panic because the costume is for boys and not girls.

And really? Like I said before, why is there even separate boy and girl sections for little kids costumes anyway. A doctor is a doctor, a dinosaur is a dinosaur and a pumpkin is a gourd for crying out loud!

Can't the kids isle just be for kids? Isn't Halloween supposed to be for kids?

It's supposed to be laughter and staying up late and ghost stories and candy - not JELL-O shooters and hooking up in a crotchless Catwoman suit behind your current elementary school.

Babe last year on Halloween in Smithers.

The Heart of a Two Year Old.

Well, the novelty of Mommy's sadness has worn off for Babe but I wanted to tell you all briefly about my sweet little girl who came to my aid when she saw her mommy hurting.

I feel terrible for being so depressed in front of her. It's inappropriate and not the kind of mother I want to be, but I guess we all have moments of weakness.

Babe can be a handful for sure. She has a lot of naughty moments and can throw a terrible fit with the best of the two-year-olds. She truly is the little girl with the little curl in the middle of her forehead.

But I have heard on more than one occasion from various caregivers that for her young age she shows remarkable compassion for her peers. Still I have been surprised and touched by her apparent concern for my well being over the past couple weeks. Especially since toddlers aren't known to be especially invested in anyone's happiness but their own.

In the days following my recent break up I could hardly muster the energy to get dressed or leave my bed. Babe and I were alone for the first couple days until my parents arrived (for a coincidentally pre-planned visit) and despite my best efforts to carry on for her, I spent most of that time half-heartedly playing with toys beside her with tears running down my cheeks.

One afternoon, as we were playing on the floor and I was miserably failing at hiding how miserable I was, Babe and I had one of the strongest bonding moments we've had since she stole my life-long teddy bear out of my arms while we slept.

I was sitting on the floor playing with her and doing my best to use my cheerful voice through heaving sobs - as if a normal tone could somehow trick my daughter into not noticing that something was off with Mommy. When all of a sudden she stopped playing and asked me if I was sad. I told her that I was and it was no big deal and gave her a brief explanation at which point, still crying, I expected her to resume our game as if satisfied with knowing 'yup, she's sad.'

But she was intently focused on me, not the toys. Then she told me she would read me a story to make me not be sad anymore.

She ran into her room and came out with her chubby baby arms filled with a sloppy pile of books - dropping them like a trail of breadcrumbs down the hallway as she came to me.

She sat down beside me, chose a book and then proceeded to pretend to read it to me with the pictures facing me like her pre-school teachers would do for the class.

I faked a smile and thanked her but I couldn't stop the crying.

Not discouraged she announced that she would get me some toys and ran back into her bedroom and retrieved some of her most prized possessions.

Again I thanked her and told her that made me happy - still crying.

But I was clearly not OK and instead of becoming frustrated at her failure to make me happy or distracted by the books and toys on the floor, my darling little girl climbed up into the rocking chair that I have comforted her in since the day she was born, turned to me, patted the space beside her little body and said' "It's OK Mommy. Come sit with me and we'll talk about it."

It was the first moment where my heart began to heal a little bit and it was because of a two-year-old. I was so touched by her innocent desire to not see Mommy be sad and her perseverance when her first attempts just weren't good enough to help.

At the same time I felt so terrible for putting her in a place where she had to worry about taking care of her mommy's emotional state.

A few days later it was a friend who suggested I write it down to keep for her for later.

I try not to be one of those my-baby-is-a-genius, braggy parents, but in that moment my two-year-old's capacity for compassion completely overwhelmed me.

I'm so lucky.

And I'm so glad that I have taken the time to recognize her little tragedies, no matter how ridiculous or trivial they seem to adults. Maybe it's just who she is, or maybe trying to understand her feelings even in her fits of toddler-craziness is helping her become a more empathetic child.

The Hike.

Having spent a significant potion of my life at least close to nature I, of course, like most other B.C.er's have developed an affinity for the outdoors.

I've always felt very at home in both the forest and the ocean. Like most little girls I loved almost all animals - the cute ones for sure. And that love stayed with me as I grew into an adult. Maybe less like little girls I later also made the choice to love most insects and tiny creatures as well.

I say it was a choice because liking bugs didn't come naturally to me. I hated them when I was a kid. Spiders especially. My Dad always had to come and rescue me from them. But he'd never kill God's little creatures and I remember he would always take them outside in a cup.

Back then I always secretly thought, 'Why not just kill them. They're gross.' But he never did.

Then as a late-teenager living alone in a cabin in the woods(ish) I was so bombarded by bugs and so exhausted from spending my nights straining my eyes to see the creepies in the dark and spending my days dreading the night that I finally just decided to like them. I reasoned it would be easier to convince myself that bugs were beautiful than it would be to continue listening with my eyes and seeing with my ears in a cold sweat in the dark.

Whatever. What I'm getting at is that I've always been a nature girl. I love being in the trees, being near the trees, sitting quietly and listening to the trees. I love the ocean. I love the salt in my hair and the seaweed against my legs and the pebbles under my toes.

But since moving to Smithers I've realized a flaw of sorts in my nature-loving.

I was graced with growing up in probably one of the only corners of the planet where both the forest and the ocean hosted really almost nothing at all that could hurt you. Not badly anyway.

Really. Where else is that true?

Most of my nature time has been spent on Hornby Island or much less-so, around the Lower Mainland.

So the feeling in my heart that I am so at one with nature, the confidence that I know the surroundings, that I'm at home in Canadian woods, that the ocean and the forest are my cradle is very much a house of cards. An illusion of strength and very flimsy at best.

This has briefly occurred to me over the years. Like the odd summer when a bear or a cougar were rumoured to have swam over to Hornby. Some sheep would go missing or there would be a few sightings and suddenly my walks home late at night with only the moon as a flashlight would be more edgy. I'd stress a little and once even freaked at a deer in the bushes and ran all the way back to my boyfriend's cabin to make him walk me home.

It was in those moments that I'd remind myself how safe the island really was. But of course I'd forget within days of hearing the beast had been trapped and relocated off-island.

So, I've never really had to worry about nature. Oh, there have been bees and jellyfish and spider bites and rashes and prickles. But nothing more.

Even when I trekked into the Amazon, I took my illusion of safety with me. By then I was so used to being comfortable in the outdoors and so disillusioned both by my crazy island-bubble back home where nothing had ever "gotten" me (because there was nothing to get me) and the general sense of immunity that comes with youth that I felt only slightly out of my element in a land that harbours literally thousands of natural killers. I swam with piraña and caiman and trekked through the rainforest with abandon.

But since having a baby I've lost a lot of my guts. I'm more nervous and much more cautious. and I'll let you in on a secret:

I always have been pretty nervous. What most would probably perceive as bravery or possibly stupidity in me when it come to my boldness with nature, is really just me attempting to counteract all the paranoia that I was raised with.

I had a very, very nervous mother and as I've read somewhere, "How you speak to your children will become their inner voice" which I believe is very much the truth. Probably because of my mother I've always had warning bells in the back of my mind. Goose bumps on my flesh and hair standing up on the back of my neck. Those little warning signs that you're supposed to listen to. Well those are genetically entwined in my existence. I have them all the time. Fears. Worries. So in order to ensure that I wasn't controlled by them the way I saw that my mother was, I sort of got into the habit of forging ahead regardless of whether the danger was real or apparent.

I've always had a hard time differentiating between the two. I can never tell if I'm just being overly-cautious or down-right paranoid or if it's actually common sense talking. In my twenties it didn't help that I surrounded myself with people who took the same risks as I did. So even if my voice of reason was so loud that I did take pause before crashing through the woods in the middle of the night, my friends often made me feel like a worry wort.

Now that I have Babe it's become even harder for me to distinguish the legitimate fears from the imagined. I can't seem to find the lines between adventure, common sense, parental concern, parental over-protection and paranoia. I'm trying to figure it out but I'm constantly questioning if I'm being too care-free or too-careful. It's a balance that I can't grasp.

So after moving here and starting to explore it became clear quite quickly that I wasn't as prepared for the woods as I would have liked to think I was. All of a sudden there are black bears and grizzly bears and moose (which apparently are more viscous than they sounds when you type out the word) and cougars and fucking packs of wolves.

And here I am, a single mom. No bring-home-the-bacon-fight-off-the-wolf-pack husband to lead the way and break the cobwebs. It's just us.

So now I'm stuck between desperately wanting some sense of the adventure that I had in my old life and needing to protect my daughter from harm. And again, I can't find a balance. You think it would just be common sense, right? But some people would say going for a half hour hike on a popular trail alone with an infant is totally normal and other people would say it's not a good idea at all. And I don't know who I am!!!!

So, we've been easing in with little adventures. But in keeping with the Nothing Is Ever Easy theme of my life, our little adventures so far have been completely just us. It's summer and I've been expecting other tourists to be out in the same areas as us but so far we've been pretty much alone.

Today I took Babe on what the Internet assured me was an easy, family-friendly, all-ages hike. Now, by family-friendly I suppose they meant it's not very steep. But when I read family-friendly I imagined there would be families there. When we pulled off the road to the parking lot(ish) I was a little concerned that the sign said it was two-hours round-trip, but we were already there by that point and I'm really stubborn.

Despite the promise of rain I really did expect other people to be hiking the area. I guess that's the city girl in me, you can never fucking get away from people...EVER.

So my heart sped up a little when it was clear by the lot that, just like last week, we were the only ones out there. But as I strapped Babe into the ERGO I reasoned others would be along shortly.

OK. So Smithers peeps who read this will probably think I'm insane for being nervous in this area but please remember - I just got here. I don't know this area from the next and I do find A LOT of comfort in the familiar and knowing what is around the next bend. In fact, I was much more comfortable on the way back having already passed everything once and being able to picture the area from the top than I was on the way out. New terrain scares me (nowhere more so than with technology but...)

So for the rest of this post I'm pretty much just going to take you along our hike - in my mind. This is it.

So Babe's on my back and it's like 10:00 in the morning. It's grey and a little misty but there's some blue patches

...and I have this folded note with directions in my pocket because they don't believe in signs up here.

I have snacks - But bears can smell food. I also have my period, so...

But I have bear spray so there's a little sense of safety there. And my cell, so that's good.

We start out through a field and it's really pretty.

Those are most definitely some patches where animals have slept. It reminds me of exploring the fields on my grandpa's farm and my Dad saying, "A moose was here last night".

Maybe it's just cows. The instructions said to keep the gates closed. It's probably just cows...

This grass is long. I can't see very far. Anything could hide in there.

Then the field trail transitions into a forest trail.

OK. So the instructions said a narrow forest trail. We're going the right way.

What was that?!

(I'll save you reading that line five thousand times. Let's just assume for the sake of time-saving that I thought "What was that?!" 5000 times on our hike. Please also note that I spent the entire time that I wasn't scanning the bush for bears, scanning the trail for signs of bears; footprints, broken sticks, trees that had been rubbed raw, poop...anything bear-ish. So basically that's what I was doing the whole way.)

Babe is chattering on my back. Right in my ear. It's hard to hear if anything is sneaking up on us. I wish I had a husband to keep her quiet. That makes no sense. He'd probably just be talking too.

Be quiet. I'm trying to hear danger!

Relax. Just get lost in the beauty of it all...

Seriously. Shut up!

This path is longer than the instructions led me to believe. I should've guessed that when they said it was only three km to the lot from the road. Whoever wrote these instructions had no sense of distance. Or didn't care.

Fuck this path is long.

It's probably not that long. It's the fear that drags it out.

Babe says her legs are getting scratched by branches. Shhhhhhhh! Quiet!

This is scary. I'm only gonna go a bit further and then we can just turn back.

We'll come another day when I have a friend here.

No. By then it'll be snowing and it won't stop until July. We must take advantage of the summer while it lasts.

Shhhh!

Quiet! I'm listening for wolf packs.

(It should also be noted that I turned around to look behind me a lot. And not just casually, but like some crazy gingerbread-house witch just tapped me on the shoulder.)

On My God! That bird just scared the shit out of me! My heart is racing.

Is that a moose print? If it is that's a fucking huge moose.

My Dad would probably like to shoot it.

I wish he was here. He'd confirm if there was a moose with dinner plate-sized hooves in the area.

Funny how he won't kill spiders but he is such an avid hunter.

Is that a bear?

Nope. Just a stump.

This path is soooooo long. Just a bit further and then I'm totally turning back.

Where the hell is that gravel road we are supposed to be coming up on?

Is that a bear bed? Was a bear sleeping there?

God. These trees are closing in on me.

That's definitely a dog print. A hiker with a dog from yesterday? Or a wolf?

Why did someone have to mention wolf packs after the city hall meeting the other night? I didn't even think about fucking PACKS of wolves until someone said it. That fear wasn't even on my radar.

I wish I was Mantracker.

I wish I watched more Mantracker.

I've seen enough Mantracker. I can do this.

Shhhhhh! Stop singing Frere Jacques. The wolves can hear you.

We're gonna die and it's gonna be because I taught this kid how to sing.

Fuck. I remember this National Geographic show...or maybe it was Planet Earth, where the one wolf jumps out and scares the shit out of you. And meanwhile, while you're running for your life, the other ones circle around and come in from the sides and take you down.

Yeah. It was Planet Earth. I think it was a baby gazelle or something.

Dammit! I wish I could tell the difference between a wolf print and a German Shepherd print.

I'm just gonna turn around. This is stupid. I should just turn around. I have a child.

Baaaahhh! Stupid bird! Goddamit! I hate birds! I hate all the birds! What? They can't hear us coming from a mile away. I'm stomping through the woods with a 25 pound mini me singing french children's songs at the top of her lungs...like there's not a care in the world...like she isn't just a beacon for the wolf packs to hone in on and these fucking stupid birds are all startled when we land right on top of them. How are they not extinct yet?

Ooooh! I see a house through the trees. Sweet. OK that's nice. I could make it to that house if I had to. They'd hear us scream.

If there were lots of bears around the people who live there probably would've erected a sign or something. They'd warn people. They might even hear us and call out and say it's not safe.

Fuck. If I see that bird again I'm gonna rip its beak off and use it to pull staples in my office.

Hmmm. Fear makes me cranky.

Talk. Talk to the baby...

Sound happy. This is fun. Yay!

Why did I watch the Blair Witch Project so many times?

Jooooooosssssssshhhh?

OK, at this point I can't run back to that house anymore. They might hear us scream but we wouldn't make it.

If we just sit down here how long would it be until someone came by? Maybe we can wait at the top for someone and then walk back with them. No. That would probably be annoying.

Did a bear break that branch? Did a bear push that tree over. Did a bear kill that frog?

Holy Hell! Is that the road?

Yes! We're finally on the road. This is awesome. There's some more space. I don't feel like something can just leap out anymore. I can see further than three feet.

Being on that path was like being one of those horses at Stanley Park with the blinders on. The ones that pull all the tourists.

OK. This is better.

But the directions said it's still 30 minutes to the lookout.

Great. Babe wants to walk. It's gonna be another hour to the lookout.

OK. So walk!

No. THAT way.

Go.

Go.

GO!

OK. This is kinda fun. It's really pretty. Nice fields.

Wolf or dog prints? Wolf or dog prints?

Dog. Surely it's a dog.

Please walk faster baby. You're dragging out Mommy's fear. Let's just get there and get home!

No. Let her walk. This is supposed to be fun.

Hey! Horse poop. Awesome. That means a horse has been through here. Maybe it scared the bears away. Hopefully it was through here recently. It smells recent. Gross.

Common Babe. Chop, chop. Quick like a bunny.

Common...

This is nice though. Just me and Babe. She's having fun. I'm glad she isn't scared. Look at her. All trusting. She has no idea that I'm putting her in danger. Am I? Am I a bad mom or a good mom? Is this good parenting or bad parenting? Probably good parenting if you're a family and you're all together. Probably bad parenting if you're just a single mom dragging your kid through the woods.

But that's not fair. We don't have a husband/daddy.

But I have bear spray. I'm a good mom.

Urgh! Except I'm out in the woods in an area that I'm not familiar with. And it's just crawling with huge animals out here. And here I am; 5 foot 3 with the flu and a chattering little bundle of blonde, bobbing ten steps behind me who probably reeks of vulnerability and veal-fresh meat.

This. This right here is why people get married. This is the reason.

Shhhh! Quiet. Please. Please. They'll eat us! Don't you get it. There's b-e-a-r-s out here.

No there's not.

Hey! The top! Holy Hell. We made it to the top.

Oh. This is steep. I probably shouldn't be doing this sick. My head feels like it's going to explode.

Who invented going up stuff. Going up stuff is haaaard.

So that's it. Basically that's exactly what was going through my mind on our walk. Honestly. I know because I made an extra effort to remember it. That actually helped keep me calm. Trying to remember my crazy thoughts.

The view was really spectacular. And Babe and I had a little picnic. And a couple other people did come and go. Two on a quad and two on mountain bikes. So on the way back I could see their tracks and I knew they had been through and maybe scared off any creatures.

Actually, when I asked the one bike guy if he had seen any bears he laughed and said no. It kinda sounded like he thought I was paranoid. So I felt a little better like maybe it wasn't likely that there were any around those parts.

And I texted on the way back which took my mind off my fears.

We actually really lucked out because the clouds were coming in fast and I hadn't brought a coat for Babe or myself. And as soon as we got to the truck it started to pour!

What luck.

And just as I was pulling out to drive away...

A black bear! He just meandered across the road and into the woods we had just stumbled through. I don't know if it was luck or a warning. Maybe someone telling me to heed my fears or telling me that everything would be OK. I have no idea.

It did confirm my worries - and calmed them at the same time.

*Update: Last night after this hike I found a list of all the people known to be killed by bears since the late 1800's. Just like a true researcher, I read every one. I doubt that this information will help me at all in the future.