Day 50: Lent

I adore and dread this time of year with equal measure. Pancakes, crocuses, lamb. Fasting, frost, rain. And I wonder how much it will differ here. Crocus stalks used to be the favourite spring treat of my childhood pet rabbit. She would bite of the flower head and eat the stalks. I doubt any edible plant can survive the colony of rabbits here.

Sadly we lost 'little rabbit', one of Charlie's toys, last weekend. We took a rather icy and treacherous walk along Johnson's Canyon, with Charlie and little rabbit in the baby carrier. We only gained the lower falls before turning back, with Andy having to cling to the rail and me sliding into everything and everyone. At one point we paused to look into one of the pools, and as little rabbit was perched on the head rest, he slid off, bounced down the cliff and into the eddying water. Charlie was upset, but we told her he was swimming and would be fine. She soon cheered up when we opened the picnic.

The thing is, I'm not sure about lying to her, now that she is getting older and can tell when we are lying. She expects him to swim all the way down river, run a few miles, jump in to the creek and swim right up to our house. But of course he won't. It made me think about the other lies I tell her all the time; "You won't like coke, it tastes funny." "You'll get square eyes if you stand that close to the TV." "There are no cartoons after 7pm." Maybe I just feel guilty, because I knew it would happen; she always drops her toys when she is being carried, and I didn't stop her.

We didn't have pancakes: having skied at Lake Louise we arrived home late and exhausted from the effort of attempting to ski on ice for most of the day, and avoid the hoards of idiots on the slopes. My husband thinks they are deliberately out to annoy him, especially the ones who stop in a group at the top of a pitch, waiting for you to catch up, then set off all at different speeds just as you pass them, and stagger themselves like an ever moving set of cones for you to not weave in and out of because that would be rude!

So having missed all of the usual spring traditions and preparation for Easter, I have decided to throw myself fully into Lent. Charlie (who receved 3 Valentines cards and a chocolate marshmallow heart) is brutally honest in her actions and opinions. For some time she has enjoyed prodding my stomach and giggling, and pretending to lose her finger in my navel. However, a few nights ago, we were taking a bath and she was driving her duplo bus around my body, singing; "We're gonna go go go go, on an adventure." (From 'Cat in the hat' - prime Canadian viewing) followed by ad lib, "We're gonna go go go go, up a mountain," as she drove it over my stomach.

So I have decided to forgo wine and chocolate for Lent, as they are probably the main contributors to my expanding waistline (perhaps the dryer isn't shrinking my clothes). But to cheer myself up I am also treating myself to some positive resolutions. Last year I stoped myself from being bitchy (even in my head) and it had a really positive effect on my outlook. So this year I am going to aim to exercise 4 times per week. Skiing counts so that's two easily, and any yoga or walking with Charlie in the carrier has to be good. I am also treating myself to rereading Harry Potter, but in French. Got to have a challenge, right?

On good Friday I'll treat myself to a bar of Dairymilk and a bottle of something nice. I was toying with the idea of a bonus incentive of putting a dollar in a box for every day I don't have any alcohol and using it for my treat, but as wine and chocolate are so expensive I'd end up with a half bottle of lambrini and a freddo if I were lucky.

Tomorrow is Charlie's birthday so I'm baking her a chocolate cake (with cocoa powder so it's fine) and I'm sure she'll appreciate it if I toast her with a G&T. See, Lent's easy, n'est ce pas?

Day 45: Tempus fugit

Valentine's day is not normally a day we celebrate, apart from the obligatory card and effort to be more than civil for a day. Yet today seemed special. I had a lie in, and woke alone, hearing the patter of feet through the hall way, some giggling, and Charlie bursting into our room, climbing into our bed, cuddling me, jumping off the bed and disappearing. She returned with a card and some chocolates, sang happy birthday, opened the card and demanded a chocolate.

We had pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast, which were light and fluffy for once, exchanged cards (more posh chocolates for me, so feel rather stingy with my climbing magazine), and had a lovely lazy morning. It's also family weekend here; a bank holiday weekend, leading into half term. Last night we joined the local lantern parade. I'm not entirely sure what it celebrates, but it usually kicks off the winter festival here: a fortnight of frozen festivities. The minion head was definitely my favourite. Charlie's wind up torch didn't quite cut it, but she was happy waving it and jumping to the drumming band.

However, as it's unseasonable warm, some of the events may be a damp squib. I imagine tomorrow's ice skating on the melted lake will not go ahead. But some will: this morning we wandered to the Valentine's craft market and an ice carving display at the civic centre. Then went for coffee and muffins at a chain cafe, because we know it's good (smug local knowledge as some tourists passed by saying, 'it's far too busy, let's go to the one on the next block'). Then Charlie face planted in a muddy puddle, needed a full clothing change, tuna sandwich and tv boost before heading back out with Andy for an hour's park session. She was so tired she fell asleep in her dinner. Bonus early night and romantic (if slightly chewy) steak dinner.

All this has made me think about what we have gained, and what I miss. I'm starting to find my way around the bargains, and local discounts. Steak is really quite reasonable, but there's hardly any lamb, and Easter is round the corner. I love the hand driven sieve, but no pestle and mortar, and I still haven't found lard or bacon. The outdoors lifestyle is so alluring, and I feel healthier, but notice the increased use of moisturiser, and curse the moment I put my clinique eye cream in the no pile. I long for my own non-squeaky bed, linen and adult sized bath. Yet all of these things are easily remedied if we were to move here, and it is so tempting. There is a sense of community and welcome which I have missed since moving to the South of England. The expectation of life being spent outside is evident in the parks and facilities. And there are gherkins.

Yet as we dream of moving here, becoming outdoor instructors, skiing, running and climbing, Charlie an olympic snowboarder, I realise how much I am missing. My best friends'  and family's crises and celebrations: my dad turning 65, Sara and Ben's wedding planning, Luke hearing for the first time, my great-uncle's funeral, serious illnesses for which I can only send words and not hugs. It makes me feel that we really should be living for now, and enjoying all the opportunites presented. To mix proverbs: tempus fugit; carpe diem.

Day 35: Fugitive

The yoyoing temperatures here have us in various states of distress. Either it's too hot and we're peeling layers like onions, or as on Monday, I leave the house totally unprepared, and have to buy an extra hoodie just to survive the 2 minute walk home. It was a nice hoodie, and had 30% off. Charlie is always warm. The cheap onesie we bought her seems to be super heated, so she's happy to stay on the swings shouting, "higher" whilst we shivver at the bottom. Pushing.

We have also entered the community of Canadian car owners; which, quite frankly is a minefield. First you agree to buy a car. Then you have to go to your bank to get a banker's cheque because your card limit is far too small and the credit card rates abroad are crippling. Then you need to get insurance; again bankruptingly expensive as you don't have an Alberta driving licence, so any history is void and you are effectively a new driver. Goodbye any more nice clothes. Then you go and sit in the licensing office to buy plates (they don't come with the car here - they are registered to the driver. Weird). I say sit in the office as there is always a queue: despite 3 people working there, only one will be serving. And, get this, they do the theory test, obligitory eye test to go with the theory, and every other licence under the sun. There are 7 chairs and a permanent queue.

So we bought a car. Finally. It's better than our standard Focus back home; seats 7, dvd player, winter tyres, camera to reverse. And it was £1000 cheaper. As is road tax (paid for via the plates, annually, although I'll never get that hour back). Thankfully they've guaranteed to buy it back at the end of the holiday, at a loss, but the temptation to fill it with cheap clothes and skis, and ship it back is growing...

This morning I had one of those moments in motherhood which are so seldom appreciated, when Charlie turned to me and said, "love you mummy". I don't often feel a loving bond with her; more a necessity to keep her alive as she is relatively amusing. But today was one of those time-stans-still feelings. She's never used the word love before, and it was a bit of a moment between us.

I dutifully took her swimming, allowing her to nearly drown a few times to remind her why she wears arm bands in the pool (she took them off to go down the slide faster), but mainly standing around shivvering while she played on the slide. We took the car to have the weird tire low flashing light checked; they adjusted them, but said not to worry, as tyres fluctuate with the temperature and the sensors are sensitive. Really? Isn't that their job? Did check what to put in it; diesel or petrol? Gas, silly. Eh?

I took Charlie to daycare in the car, with a slight detour on the highway after a wrong turn, and her repeating, "mummy play with toys," to my distraction in the rear. I then went on to commit my first crime of the holiday. I saw the parked school bus with stop sign, and stopped. And as at other stop signs, assessed the danger, and carried on around it; it was parked of the other side of the road. Nobody followed me. Apparently, this is a road crime, and if someone is to have taken my number, I am to expect a phonecall or ticket in the next few days. Feeling sheepish and hiding in the house seems appropriate. At least it doesn't meet my fellony of driving down a tram line twice in Calgary (they look like roads and there are no signs to say not to) and getting pulled over by the police in 2010.

So, we mainly walked today. Thankfully I had a playdate (v. Canadian) with my fellow expat and walked to the park to panic over 3 toddlers skidding off the climbing frame and giggling with glee. God know how you parents of 2 or more cope at such destinations. Ratio 2:3 = total bedlam. However this caused my second crime in as many days, as I dropped off my rubbish in the bin, only to close the lid and see 'PARK TRASH ONLY, NO PRIVATE WASTE'. Did not extract it, and now am worried about CCTV, although they don't seem to get the dog walkers who ignore the no pets rule.

Exited park with some decorum; Charlie didn't lie face down in the snow to object to hand holding whilst crossing the road. So, to be nice, and praise positive behaviour, I let her empty the post box. As usual, we had fliers for the elections and Domino's. Charlie was thrilled. "I love it!" she exclaimed.

Not only am I Canmore's number 1 fellon, but on a par with a pizza flier. Maybe I should flee the country. After tomorrow's skiing, obviously.