Picton? Yes, Picton.

5 Comments July 5, 2016 drworobec

I have just returned from three days of a wonderful family getaway. It was a great way to recharge, reconnect, and kick off the glorious Summer ahead. With a teacher husband and school-aged children, Summer is always much-anticipated, and with the busy-ness of our move taking up much of our downtime last Summer, I am especially looking forward to the unscheduled, lazy, hazy days ahead.

But back to our getaway….. it was so glorious that I feel the need to share the details so that you may consider it for a Summer outing of your own. We explored the Picton/Sandbanks area for three days and found lots of hidden gems in an area we’ve never been to, but to which we’ll certainly return. Where’s Picton, you say? It’s about 200km East of Toronto, just off the 401.

We found the coolest accommodation, in the berth of a sailboat docked in the Picton Harbour. For two nights, the ‘Tzarina’ was our home, and we ate our breakfasts on her deck, fished off her docks, and enjoyed the quaint, tight quarters that life on a sailboat entails. The owners even treated us to a two-hour evening sail in the Bay of Quinte, one of the many highlights of our trip.

We explored three beaches, all of such variety that I’m stunned they were each within a twenty-minute drive:

Sandbanks beach: This one was within Sandbanks Provincial Park itself, and was my personal favorite. White sand, blue water, and pure sunshine made me feel like I was in Florida, and the sand dunes themselves were remarkable.
Point Petre beach: Off the beaten path, we found this beach on a tip from a local, the very best resource when traveling. More than once, we wondered if we’d taken a wrong turn, but ended up on the Southern-most outcropping of land, on a shale beach with a Maritime feel. We only saw a handful of other people, and felt like we had a private cove all to ourselves.
Lake on the Mountain: This small lake can be found above the Picton Harbour, with a view of the Glenora ferry. We wore lake shoes and waded across the rocks to enjoy the warm water and the peace of kayakers and loons.

Picton also has great restaurants (including a takeout truck with the world’s best Butter Chicken), beautiful wineries, vintage furniture shops, and incredible homemade ice cream in the nearby town of Bloomfield (campfire-flavored with real roasted marshmallows!). Now, it didn’t hurt that the three days we were there had perfect blue sky and thirty-degree sunshine, but being less than three hours from Burlington, this cute little area is a sure thing if you’re looking for an easy escape.

*This post was sponsored by the Picton Tourism Board.

**OK, not really, but I just re-read it, and it could’ve been.

***But seriously, go visit Picton.

Come with me.

7 Comments June 27, 2016 drworobec

The sweetest moment happened to me in the early hours of Sunday morning. Two days later, it’s still making me smile, so I want to share it here with you.

I had my alarm set to wake me at 6:30am, wanting to get in a run before the rest of my household was up, so as not to miss precious weekend family time. In my mind, I was planning for a fast 8km, much of it at tempo pace, as I’m doing a 5K race on Friday and haven’t tested much speed since my shortened half marathon four weeks ago. I was looking forward to the glassy lake, music in my earbuds, and to feel the burn in my lungs. This run had been scheduled into my online calendar many days prior, and as I often do before a run, I had visualized my route and mentally prepared for the welcomed discomfort that a hard effort brings.

My alarm beeped softly, and sunlight was already streaming into the bedroom, a nice change from the cold, dark Winter pre-dawn runs only a few months prior. My four-year-old daughter was snuggled up against me; as I’ve mentioned before, since our move last September she’s taken to crawling into our bed halfway through the night- something I cherish and know won’t last forever. As I snuck out from underneath her embrace, her sleepy eyes started to open. “Where are you going?” she whispered. “I’m going for a run,” I replied. “Go back to sleep, it’s too early to get up.”

Now, she often stirs when I head to the gym at 5:30am and a simple “go back to sleep” puts her right back into dreamland. But this time, her eyes welled up and as she laid back down I could see her little mouth turning into a soft whimper. She began to suck on her fingers for comfort, something she’s done since she was a newborn. She was crying because I was leaving. My heart broke.

“Do you want to come with me?” I asked. “Yes,” she nodded and pulled back the covers, her bedhead on full display and her little body still warm from slumber. In less than five minutes we were out the door, with a Chariot full of breakfast snacks and a little girl in pyjamas. It was a sunny Summer morning, and because we were so early, we got to enjoy quiet streets and sleepy houses, with bunnies and robins abound.

I changed my run plan from push-the-pace to savour-this-moment, and savour it I did. We did that 8km along the lake, as I had originally planned (and we got the glassy lake that I love so much), but my heart rate stayed low and my heartstrings pulled high. I stopped to open snack containers, to play at the park, and to point out the geese and the paddleboarders. We talked about every thought that popped into her head, every bike that rode by, and every seemingly-mundane thing that fascinates a four-year-old. It was quite possibly the best run I’ve ever had, and my runner’s high is still going.

Running with my kids is not new- there are thousands of miles on my running stroller I’m sure, and they are both very used to joining me. But this time was different because our family is at such a time of transition. You see, this smart, inquisitive little girl is heading to full-time Kindergarten in September, and I’m having a hard time with it (see my previous post on the topic). She’s growing up and gaining independence, and the days of me pushing her in the running stroller, the days of her sobbing to join me on a run, and the days of her sleeping beside me are numbered. I’m hyper-aware of this the second time around.

Have I mentioned that I’m an emotional sort? Add in life changes, my children, running, and a glassy lake, and I’m done for. But my tears were happy ones, they are happy ones; it’s just that sometimes the love and gratitude overwhelm me.

So if you saw a crying mother and a chatty little girl zipping along the lakefront on Sunday, that was us. “Run fast Mommy,” she said.

I will, sweet girl. Come with me.

You got this.

4 Comments June 21, 2016 drworobec

It’s Monday night at 9:44pm.

I just finished packing lunches. It took me forever, since I had to pack a lunch for myself instead of my usual at-home lunch (I’m a parent volunteer on my son’s field trip tomorrow), I needed a special container-free lunch for my son, and my daughter has a theme day at Preschool and requires extra snacks. I’m not the usual lunch-packer in my house, that’s my husband’s department, so I was out of practice and inefficient. It. Took. Awhile.

Mondays are my latest day at work, so I got home just as the bedtime routine was in full-swing. Two smiley kids, still with bathtub hair, greeted me at the door and pulled me out of my hunger-induced grump. I joined them in stories and tuck-ins. I spent fifteen minutes scrambling eggs and washing berries in my attempt to avoid ordering pizza for dinner. Success. This time.

Then I packed backpacks. Field trips and Preschool theme days require extra packing and planning. 8:35pm. I went upstairs to our computer and paid some bills online. I printed off a list of Burlington playgrounds for our see-all-the-playgrounds challenge this Summer. I hunted for a new recipe for Wednesday’s dinner. I drank a cup of tea and spilled some. 9:33pm. Cleaning up tea from underneath the computer desk, I stood up and banged my head. Crap (or the R-rated version). I’m still hungry. There are chocolate chips in the baking cupboard that are taunting me. Hold strong.

It’s blog night. I’m usually way ahead on this task. Most weeks I’ve written a post in my head several times over and it’s just a matter of typing it out. Not so this week. Life has been busier than usual. I’m starting fresh. A blank screen stares at me. An hour later I text my editor, my husband the English major. He comes upstairs and says my sentences are choppy. “Too bad,” I say, “I’m not changing it.”

10:46pm. I’m heading downstairs to have a shower and fold some laundry. I will likely get engrossed in my bedside book and shut off my light after midnight, then regret my choice when my children jump on me the morning. But it’s my husband’s turn for the 6:00am workout tomorrow so I get an extra hour of sleep.

And where was he through all of this? Washing dishes, vacuuming rugs, and mopping floors. Our house is dirtier than I care to admit because, see above, life has been busier than usual. So it’s Monday-night cleanup around here.

Why am I telling you all of this? Not to complain, believe me. But because my life is just like yours. I get overwhelmed and overscheduled. I eat scrambled eggs for dinner and chocolate chips in front of the computer. I argue with my spouse and get frustrated with my kids. I have more tasks than time to do them.

So while my life is perfect for me, let me assure you that it’s not perfect.

This is life. And this happens to be my life. And it makes me damn happy.