It's a long story.

I've been getting some questions here at FIMBY lately along the lines of, "are you bilingual?" and "how did you end up in Québec, Canada?"

I've shared the whole story of our American exodus and what precipitated that move in a bunch of posts over the past couple years. And through FIMBY's seven and half year run, I've shared bits and pieces of the back back story - our original move across the continent from where we grew up and got married in western Canada.

It's time to share the whole story, in one post. You'll excuse me if it's a long one. You asked.

Let's start with your question - Am I bilingual?

No. Damien is. Our children are decidedly not.

Before I go on I should state for those not aware that Québec is a francophone province in Canada.

Some people think all Canadians speak French. That's not the case. With the exception of Québec, New Brunswick and parts of Ontario most Canadians speak only English. And because Canada is so multi-cultural people speak all kinds of languages here. French, as well as English, are Canada's official languages.

Québec has a unique culture and very different vibe than the rest of Canada. Over the years Québec has tried to even (unsuccessfully) separate from Canada. This would be a big loss to Canada's identity but I can understand the separatist point of view more since living here.

But this is not a political story, it's a personal one.

The fact that I am living in Québec, having grown up in conservative, western Canada still amazes me, so I'm going to walk you through how this happened.

I was born and raised in the land-locked prairie province of Alberta. I grew up in a small-ish farming community, close to a large city, but we weren't farmers. My parents were entrepreneurs and small business owners. After I graduated from high school, I went to the University of Alberta. I met Damien my second year of school at an IVCF campus group and the rest, they say, is history.

Life 1.0

A couple years after we were married and one year after Celine was born we decided to move to New Jersey.

This was a totally spontaneous decision. Well, almost spontaneous. I didn't even know where New Jersey was before that. We had just bought our first home and hadn't yet closed on it when we decided to leave the country.

What were we thinking?

Specifically, we were thinking that we needed to build Damien's career.

For the first few years of raising children we were committed to a one income household, dad goes to work, mom stays home type of arrangement. This meant I was willing to make certain sacrifices and take some calculated leaps to help Damien build his career. He was going to be solely responsible for supporting our family for years to come and his work mattered to our family, a lot.

This was near the tail end of the dot com era when there was lots of money in tech stuff and Damien was offered a job, with paid moving expenses, by an internet service provider company in New Jersey.

Now, I should back up and say that Damien's university degree is in Civil Engineering. He took up computer work shortly after graduating, moonlighting as a network engineer and had to bootstrap his way into the industry. Not pursuing Computer Engineering from the get-go of his education is one of Damien's regrets. But then he wouldn't have met me (he would have been a different place at a different time) so it all worked out in the end.

So, when Damien was offered a full time, salaried position to build his experience in the work he wanted to do (with paid moving expenses) we jumped at the chance. Even though we had just bought a home.

Life 2.0

It was an adventure. And we planned to move back.

We didn't.

We rented out the house we had just bought and sold it two years later when we realized we weren't going back "home".

New Jersey has many fond memories for us, including Laurent's birth and a close neighbor whose friendship helped me through Laurent's very difficult first year of babyhood. She had a difficult baby also. We commiserated and went for lots of morning walks with our littles and spent lots of afternoons sitting by kiddie pools.

Two years in New Jersey was enough to get our fill of traffic and city life. I loved being a 1/2 hour from New York City, it was fun to take our family there when they visited, but what we really wanted was more nature and affordable living.

So we moved to Maine with friends. Another kind of impromptu decision. I think my parents may have been kind of devastated at this point (two grandchildren living on the other side of the continent) but they took it well. The big draw this time was (are you ready?) communal living. Long story very short - it didn't work out. But Maine did.

Maine rooted itself in our hearts. Maine is where Damien re-discovered his love for the mountains. It's where I discovered local food and farms. It's where I learned organic gardening and natural living. Maine really is "the way life should be".

By God's grace we landed a good job for Damien, a really great job. We bought our "second" first house in a great urban location and this time we actually lived in it, for five years.

We lived well and realized many of our dreams in Maine. One income family, one car living. Connected in our community.

Maine is where we grew into our adult selves and it's where we grew our family. Brienne was born there and Maine will always have a special place in my heart.

We wanted to stay, permanently. We asked the government to stay. They said yes, but first we had to wait. And wait. And wait some more before they could finish "processing that request".

While we waited I was unable to earn money, this was ok for the first few years in NJ. I was too busy caring for children to do anything else. But this waiting - 7, 8, 9 years grew old. Having established Damien's career and our family life we started to have other dreams and goals. The dreams and goals I've been talking about now for the past year here at FIMBY.

Life 3.0

Those dreams weren't possible in the United States without our permanent residency. Which was not forthcoming. So we made the very hard decision to leave Maine and return to Canada where we would have freedom to create the life we wanted for our family.

But where to return to? Western Canada has the mountains but was a long unpaid move away (no company was footing the bill this time!) And there was another factor keeping us east. During our Maine stint my parents moved to Nova Scotia. They were having their own mid-life adventure.

I moved far from my parents at one point in my life, my early twenties, but I didn't want to do that again. This time there were three grandchildren and they were older and had deeper rooted relationships that I wanted to nurture. I didn't want to be on the other coast.

But we had to move where there are mountains and there aren't mountains in Nova Scotia. So Damien pulled up a topographical map on google and found the mountains closest to Nova Scotia - the Appalachian Mountains on the Gaspé Peninsula of Québec.

After some research and reconnaissance we discovered the Gaspé had everything we needed for home base. Mountains, homeschool freedom, affordability, a day's drive from my parents, farms and local food and other cool things. The Gaspé peninsula is rural and full of natural beauty but it's not the cultural "sticks", this was important to me.

The Gaspé peninsula also happens to be located in Canada's francophone province. So when we decided to move back to Canada we ended up living in a different culture than what we knew in western Canada.

One of the things that makes this possible, as far as the language barrier, is that Damien spent one year in France before starting university. He learned the language and was totally bilingual. He can get by here with the language, even though they speak a local dialect of French, different even than Québec City.

I learned French in high school but am nowhere near bilingual. I am learning and will start more formal language lessons this summer.

What about our French names?

My parents named me Renee (no accent) because they liked the name. They are totally anglophone. I took Damien's last name because I'm a traditionalist. No one I've met in Québec takes a married name.

Damien's paternal family is French Canadian from a different Canadian province. There are francophone pockets all over the country. Damien's dad's family is from one of these.

Because of Damien's year in France (and the pretty girl he met there named Céline), his paternal history, and my own French given name we went with French names for our children. Laurent-Auguste is a family name. Brienne we kind of made up. It's French-ish.

After hearing all this you can imagine my tongue tied response to the common question - "where are you from?"

I want people I meet to know I'm Canadian (I want them to know I belong here, especially after years of being a resident alien in another country) but I also want them to know I've lived in the US for nearly my whole adult life. 

Want to know the really ironic part of this whole story?

One of the reasons I married Damien, or was attracted to him at least, was because he is very stable person. Secure in himself and just steady. He was studying to be an engineer and this spoke strongly to my desire to marry a breadwinner. I knew I wanted to stay home with babies and I needed someone who could support that. Engineers work in offices, have stable jobs, lead predictable lives. At least the engineers I knew. Ahem.

Turns out Damien is also a visionary. This wasn't so evident to my young lust eyes but over the years this has become more and more apparent. Adventure is in Damien's blood. And somehow, very unexpectedly, it's become a part of mine too. 

Adventure with a home base, because I'm a homemaker at heart.

I don't know how long our future is, here in Québec. We have some crazy ideas for when the kids are all grown (that's less than 10 years away). Basically we want to build community with them and will support them wherever they land (ie: we're following them). Which could take us... anywhere. (We're rooting for New Zealand.)

Which is all part of the adventure. But first I really want to learn French.

PS. For the next month our family is living in Montréal, a very urban place. I will be sharing bits of this current adventure on a regular basis with instagram (and will hopefully tell the Montréal story sometime this month). Check the sidebar on FIMBY for the day by day happenings of life in Montréal.

Last winter I read the popular parenting book Simplicity Parenting: Using the Extraordinary Power of Less to Raise Calmer, Happier, and More Secure Kids. I wrote a short review of it also, which you can read here.

In that review I wrote this short summary:

I definitely recommend (this book) if you are looking for strategies to protect your family life from physical clutter, out of home commitments, outside influences and an overdose of media. Even if you think you've got those things under control it will encourage you to keep on the straight and narrow of enriching your family life with a less is more philosophy of living.

So I was pleased when Kathy Stowell from Bliss Beyond Naptime (I just love that name, I remember living for naptime) approached me about her Simplicity Parenting e-course. For those of you who want more than a book, Kathy is offering a very personal experience to help you apply these principles to your own parenting journey.

The Simplicity Parenting ecourse runs from June 1st to 29th and Kathy is giving away one free registration to a lucky FIMBY commenter.

I asked Kathy to share a bit about her course. Here's what she had to say:

The beauty of this season, filled with the intoxicating promise of simple abundance and cute gardening outfits, is reminding me yet again how simplicity in almost all aspects of life amps up the beauty dial in the complicated world around us.

And this sentiment is especially alive in the principles we will be exploring in my Simplicity Parenting ecourse beginning June 1st.

This ecourse will explore the principles outlined in Kim John’s Payne inspiring book "Simplicity Parenting" where the antidote to the effects of the increasing speed of life and pressure to aquire more stuff and activities to our children’s childhood is to slow down, take a moment to meditate on the values we want to embrace in our homes and how to take the small steps toward making these heart felt changes.

This four week experience will be akin to meeting up for a mama only coffee or tea break with a bunch of other like-minded, simplicity seeking mammas and crafting out together values to revisit, strategies to play with and dreams to dream up then celebrate together with. Mama tribe time!

With the teachings from this course you will feel more peace, flow and connection and much support from me and course participants. To check out the details visit www.blissbeyondnaptime.com.

Lots of simplicity, beauty and connection is waiting just around the corner. Not to mention a video of me gushing about this great passion of mine with a gnome hat on.

~~~

Thank you Kathy for offering this course to a FIMBY reader and the world at large.

If you're new to Kathy's blog you'll want to go check it out. Her family lives in a strawbale house on a seven acre hobby farm at the edge of a quaint mountain town (swoon). Kathy's blog offers a glimpse into her family's simple, slow-living life and regularly dishes up "soulful strategies for creative families".

At Bliss Beyond Naptime you can also find Kathy's e-book Self Care for Soulful Mothering, and two sewing e-courses. She is one beautiful, creative mama.

To enter your name for this giveaway leave a comment. Giveaway closes Monday, May 28ths. Comments now closed, Mel is the winner.

PS. There's no more captcha requirements for commenting. Yay!

Thirteen years ago today Céline was born. Céline and I are celebrating this special birthday right now, on a short trip with my mom, just the three of us.

On this very special and significant day I want to share with you Céline's (home) birth story, written from my mother's perspective.

I love how all these pieces of Céline's story fit together. My mother witnessing her birth (my only labor and delivery she was able to be present for) and then now, sharing this milestone birthday together.

Céline's birth story is written as a letter, to me. My mom wrote it years ago, when Céline was still a baby. It was originally published in a natural birth publication in the province where we lived at the time.

This letter holds a special place in my heart, you'll see why. My mother's example and her own memoirist writing is part of what motivates me to continually write our family story, in journals and here at FIMBY.

I'm just so honored to share this with you today. 

~~~

February 7, 2000

Dear Renee,

It's Monday morning, and I'm getting into gear for the day. Thanks again for letting Dad and I invite ourselves for supper last night. It was mostly an excuse to come and play with Céline, our precious firstborn granddaughter. Though it's already eight months ago, my heart revisits the awe and privilege of being at her birth and the joy of sharing our bond of motherhood.

That day you announced your pregnancy seems like ages ago; your Dad and I were thrilled, but not surprised. When you told us about your inclination to have a home birth, again we weren't surprised, but thrilled? Truthfully, we just weren't sure what to think. Before we could embrace this decision you and Damien had made, we needed more information and time – which you gave us, but I didn't come to a resolution until one night, after I had lain awake mulling it over. I thought to myself, “Renee and Damien are intelligent and informed, they love this baby dearly (even more than me) and it's their desire to give this wee one the best possible setting to be born in.” Bearing in mind, Renee, your wish to be able to choose the kind of care you'd receive when delivering your baby – and the fact you and Damien had prayed about this decision – a home birth was okay with me. From then on I had peace about it. I just knew that God, the creator of this special little person, would give you strength, grace and protection when you would need it most.

9:00 P.M., May 21, 1999.

It was quiet in the car, as I drove alone to your house that night. I felt calm, contemplative, wanting to absorb every sensation of this experience I'd been invited to attend. But another part of me was excited and apprehensive, as I anticipated your most rewarding but most intense mental and physical workout ever.

When I got to your place, about 10:00, all was dark and still. Damien met me at the door, telling me your contractions were getting stronger, lasting longer. You were upstairs crouched on your bed, working your way through one of them. I wanted to rub your head, give you a hug, a physical expression of empathy – but you didn't want to be touched. I knew then you were well on your journey, a path that only you could travel.

I was a bit uncertain as to what I should do; was I ever glad to see the birth attendant, Cathy, arrive. When I met her at your place a few weeks ago I could see why you had such confidence in her, and in keeping with my first impression, she worked calmly, efficiently, getting things ready for herself, for you and the baby. I was glad to be put to work, helping tape plastic sheets on the floor, layering blankets, towels and baby clothes in an electric blanket, sterilizing syringes. Things I could do to help you, not wiping your face with cool clothes and rubbing your back like Damien was, but nurturing things to make you and your baby comfortable. Mom things.

Once the “set” was ready, I felt total assurance in Cathy's ability as she focused on caring for you, encouraging you, monitoring the baby's heartbeat. I watched from the hallway, so I wouldn't be in the way. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle this part, seeing you in such all-absorbing, bone-stretching pain. It was difficult: sharing your agony, yet distancing myself from its intensity, knowing I could not change this, your rite of passage into motherhood.

I was so proud of you. For digging deep within to find the resources to work through the contractions. For not losing control when you were wondering how much longer it would take. I had actually given that considerable thought. What if you felt like you just couldn't go any longer without medication, or that you changed your mind, you did want to be in a hospital after all? You never expressed either one of my concerns – which knowing your determined will, really were unfounded anxieties. You were strong. You had prepared yourself. When you needed another focus, Cathy read the Bible verses you had written out. Or she'd say a prayer to God, that He would give you strength to carry through ... there was such a peace enveloping the marvellous, miraculous event that was happening ... it made it all feel so right, so natural.

Being in a hospital setting, my labour and delivery experience with you was quite different. But one thing we had in common, and that was a lot of back and hip pain. Your Dad rubbed my back so hard he got blisters. I empathized with Damien as he offered to do anything to make you more comfortable. You didn't want to be massaged much, but gladly accepted his offers of water and high carb sports drinks. Though your marathoner Dad would not have wanted to be there, he would have been so impressed with his daughter who was “going the distance.”

A surprise for me: I was asked to boil water. That's the detail I think of when called to help a mother have a baby at home – probably from watching “Little House on the Prairie.” I never knew exactly what they needed it for, but Cathy used it to make a strong ginger root infusion. Once we could see your baby's head showing (those little swirls of dark hair), Cathy dipped cloths into the ginger “tea” and laid them around the opening, to help it relax and stretch more easily. I kept a steady supply of hot water, all the while wondering how much longer you had to go. I was actually thankful you weren't in a hospital. Here in your own home, you had the freedom to be in any position that felt best for you. Standing up, kneeling by a chair, leaning on your husband. This last part of labour was the hardest for me to watch you agonize through. After almost an hour of seeing that beautiful little circle of head, Cathy's advice to push hard rather than talk through the pain paid off. It wasn't long after that. With yet another serious push, leaning against your husband who had been there loving, helping you the whole time, you delivered your baby.

1:18 A.M., May 22, 1999.

Renee, I'll never forget the music of that immediate cry. Cathy had been there to catch your baby, wrapping it up in one of those warm blankets we had ready. You had such a look of awe and relief as you sat on the bed, where Damien and you cuddled your wee one and found out you had a baby girl. She was perfect: no scrunched head or purple look that so many people told me to expect. Her journey into the the big world had been in an atmosphere of peace and calm – the same way she was quietly looking around, as though checking out her new home. As you held her, Cathy instructed Damien where to cut the cord, this one quick action making his little girl at one time totally independent – and dependent. I felt tears and a tight throat as I watched you love your baby. My girl had a baby girl – she was now a mother, and I knew you'd be a wonderful one.

Damien announced that the baby's name would be Céline Renée; suited her perfectly. As the two of you got acquainted with her, I helped Cathy clean up your room, then prepared your bath. I couldn't resist giving the already sparkling tub another scrub. Céline was so new and “fresh” that it had to be just right. You were so comfortable with her, gently washing her, putting her to your breast and telling her how amazing she was for knowing what to do. That scene of the two of you bathing will always be a treasured memory. Céline wasn't the only hungry one, so while you finished bathing, I made the rest of us an early breakfast of tea, scrambled eggs and English muffins.

Dawn's light was showing as Cathy said good-bye, with a promise she'd be back later that afternoon (that made me feel relieved). I was ready for a rest, but first I took a peak into your room and the three of you were almost asleep, Céline cosily tucked between her Mommy and Daddy. It had been so awesome. Renee, you were the Mother; you'd had a natural childbirth at home, and you'd given me the priceless privilege of being a part of it. Thank you.

Less than a year, and Céline is securely lodged within our lives. I was right, you are a wonderful mother, and also learning how to manage the rest of life with baby. By next weekend I know Papa and I will need to see our little “peanut” again. How about I cook this time, and you come here for supper. Let me know if Sunday is okay. Love you lots; have a good week.

Mom

Making a variation of Heather's chai from Whole Food Kitchen has been a welcome treat on these busy May weekends. A little afternoon reprieve and pick-me-up in a hectic day.

I learned the hard way to make it decaf if I'm sharing it with the kids.

I make mine with homemade almond milk, my mom's recipe.

Wishing you a restful weekend in a busy season. Or perhaps I'm wishing this just for myself!