dig this chick

We had that one day in Portland last week. Ruby left for the coast with Andy’s mom, sister and our niece while Andy, Margot and I cruised around the city. It was fun and so different to be with only Margot. We make an effort to create opportunities for one-on-one time with each of our kids but not one kid with both parents. It was good and we will do more of it.

Our time together began with cupcakes and lunch with our dear, inspiring friend Holly. Our next stop was to visit Popina, a swimwear boutique that has been a dig sponsor for the last several years. I’d only visited online and was eager to see the storefront and pick out my new favorite bathing suit. I was bummed to miss meeting Popina owner Will, whom I’ve emailed with for years. We texted while I was in the store. It was cool to get smiley face messages from him while I shopped.

The shop was rad with a big ol’ dreamy sewing room in the back, friendly staff and an array of retro swimwear to flatter every body.

I had a personal shopping advisor.

She chose a lime green sting bikini with fringe. I chose something a little different.

I really, really love my new suit! It isn’t listed online but is available for purchase from the Portland store. Particularly, I love that the bottoms strategically hug and cover in all the right places and the top comes in bra sizes (built-in underwire with concealed adjustable back closure!) ensuring a perfect fit. I can lounge in this suit and I can cross Montana rivers in this suit! I feel awesome in this suit.

Popina bathing suits are available locally in Missoula at Betty’s Divine!

Popina rocks. You all have have 10% off your rockin’ suit with coupon code CANUDIGIT. And! One of you lucky ducks will WIN your dream bathing suit! Check out the vintage swimwear on Popina. I also adore the Jantzen bathing suits (the vamp maillot is a favorite of mine). Leave a comment for a chance to win. For fun how about you tell us something you feel happy about right this minute. I’ll randomly select winner on Friday, May 3.

Comments closed. Winner, lucky # 282!!!

Thanks, Popina!

We have been back for a few days now, from long weekend on the Oregon coast with family. While we are physically in our home Missoula, our brains are still somewhere on I-90. It always takes me a bit to reengage with regular life. Especially after that 12 hour car ride home.

We are Road Warriors.


Don’t let this fool you: Ruby did not resemble this for most of our car time.

I had planned to pack last Wednesday but instead followed my motivation to raise funds and love for Boston. I listed the Geo for Love: Boston shirts that afternoon and woke to orders and amazing notes from all over the country. I am so thrilled to be a part of something bigger with you all and I am trying to balance that excitement with what I can reasonably do. This is hard because I am a YES! person. I decided to list more. They will be shipped in June. I am doing my best to reply to your emails and get you your tees as soon as possible. Thanks for your patience! I love you all. Truly, I do.

Oregon was epic. One of those trips where every single moment buzzed with life and gratitude. The view, the company, the weather, the world — it was all magnificent. We stayed a night and day in Portland and then headed to the coastal town of Pacific City where we stayed three nights. It was all very simple and satisfying.

I hadn’t planned to take a week off from blogging and the result is three posts smashed into one so that I can psychologically move on to upcoming posts about our entryway redo, new chicks and swimsuit giveaways!

Oregon nuggets.

:: A giant lei wraps around Portland.

:: The vastness of the ocean. I can’t even believe it is real, like an endless stage holding infinite performances.

Every encore better than the last.

:: An enchanted trail teleported us through a dizzyingly green ecosystem to the open sea.

:: Gazing.

:: Starfish and seals. Spongey, breathing sea creatures fixed to rocks. Tiny barnacle mountain ranges. Crashing icy waves the color of summer midnight sky.

:: Laughing kids, sand covered limbs. Containers of sand filled and dumped, filled and dumped, filled and dumped. Sometimes endorsed, sometimes without permission.

:: A dune the size of a small mountain. Hiking up on all fours, running down. No fear of falling because falling is the most fun.

Sledding, even.

:: The thorough happy, generous heat that is specific to the sun.

:: Andy flew over the dunes.

:: Eye-stinging sweetness of cousins playing the very same composition of my own childhood.

:: Deep sleep, tired legs, many cups of coffee. We brought our espresso machine. Yes, we did.

:: Old dogs who have known each other since they were young dogs.

:: Everywhere I look, the metaphor makes itself.

We didn’t like saying goodbye. We talked about how we didn’t like it, as we faithfully do. And then our foursome hopped in our ratty wagon and rolled away from it all, knowing in our bones we’d be back. It might be a long drive but it can be driven.

We returned just once to fetch my wallet. I leave my wallet all over this planet and it always returns to me. I like to pretend Andy finds this exercise part of my charm.

I have yet to unpack or organize myself. I’ll get there. I like that I can still hear the waves, feel the still. I like knowing that the ocean is kneading shores all over the world, right this minute.

I woke up yesterday feeling anxious. I was grumpy, funky, snappy, surly. It felt like the last thing I wanted to do but I know better, so I dressed for a run and heaved myself out the door.

It was cold and windy. I pushed the stroller up hill, barely moving, breathing hard. It immediately felt good. I love that I am always surprised by that. I thought about the explosions at the Boston marathon and how much it sucks. I thought about how stuff like that happens every day all over the world that I don’t know much about. It’s hard to know what to do when unimaginable tragedy happens. And yet, I do always want to *do* something. I dedicated my run to Boston, pushing love out toward everyone and everything with my every step. I meditated on love, while talking to Ruby about deer, clouds and pizza. With every step I thought about hugging pain and grief. I pushed loved into the universe with every breath. Because, that I CAN DO.

My business donates items and makes charitable contributions to important organizations. But, I want to do more. I’ve been waiting for something to snap into focus, something that dig this chick can give to regularly, meaningfully and tangibly. On my run, it occurred to me. Love it when that happens.

Here at dig, we lovingly craft items, for the love of place. Places break. Places like Columbine, Haiti, New Orleans, Indonesia, Manhattan, Iraq, Newtown. These places and their people rely on our love – yours and mine – to rebuild, to mend. We are all in this together.

Today, we are beginning our Geo For Love campaign. We will regularly craft a limited edition item featuring a place that needs our love, a place that we love. We will sew a heart on the hurting place, stitching slowly and thoughtfully. We will sell the item as a fundraising tool, donating profits, combined with all of the purchasers letters of support to a cause. We will begin today, with Boston.

You can buy this Massachusetts shirt with a love heart on Boston and profit will go to the One Fund Boston, a relief organization in place to help the Boston Marathon explosion victims and victims’ families.

We are making sizes 2T-2XL. The kid shirts are gray, the adult shirts are blue (see listing). They are $36 each. We (“we” being Andy, Ruby, Margot and me!) will donate $18 of each sale to One Fund Boston. And, for every 10 shirts sold, we will donate one. I don’t know exactly how the shirt donation will work yet but I know it will happen. I welcome your suggestions.

Here, Margot asked what the heart was for. I told her Boston. She wanted to know more and I told her people were sad and hurting in a city called Boston in a state called Massachusetts. She said, “Oh and the heart is for love?” Our kids get it.

As this is a new initiative and one that I hope grows and grows to support places all over our big (little) world, I am anticipating some kinks, some ways to give better, love more. I appreciate any thoughts you might have on how to facilitate giving better and loving more. Thanks in advance for your smart ideas.

When you wear this shirt: feel love, share love, show love. We will.

I have the same favorite date with both of my daughters: a hike.

All that open space creates open conversation. She meanders, I ask a question. She collects rocks, tells stories.

Margot and I both wanted to get out, Andy and Ruby wanted to stay in. I asked her what we should do.

Ride bikes to the river and check it out!

We took off, her tiny frame so much bigger than it was last spring. She needs a new bike. Wow. She pedals standing up, gaining speed until she can glide and arabesque on her bright red bike with the bumblebee tattoo, the one we bought together yesterday or two years ago. She is growing her hair long and it spills out from under her helmet and drapes over her shoulders. She likes this and moves her head with exaggerated sweeps to hear hair bristle against her puffy coat.

She laughs like she always has but now there are two black spaces where teeth used to be.

Mom? I think I’d like to get my ears pierced when I am 17.

We reached the river front trail and peeled off down the slippery slope to the secret enchanted trail. She skipped ahead.

Mom! Hurry up! Come on! 

I moved quickly to keep up, noticing her agility and confidence over roots and rocks. The river to our right, was loud. And then it grumbled louder and we both stopped. It wasn’t the river, but a forceful wind gust that shook the towering trees. Margot leaned into my leg, hooked her elbow around my knee.

It started raining and then pouring but we kept on ahead, running now. The trail ends at a small pool at river’s edge. Margot waded right in filling her boots with icy water, filling her chest with laughter. She selected a handful of rocks and stuffed a bag with river to bring home to Ruby.

The rain turned into snow and hail and back to rain, wind pushed tree limbs into a drunken sway. We started back, soaked now. We ran fast, blocking low-hung branches with our forearms and shins. Margot’s giggles in tandem with the wind and current. She carried the baggie of water with great care, hugging it to her belly or letting it jiggle with her jog. I fought my urge to warn her against her squeezing it open. She knew what to do.

We stopped to watch ducks. I buzzed with happiness. I think she did too. I asked if we could take a few photos. I had been snapping photos with my phone as I chased behind her. I was glad I brought it.

The storm was eery and angry when we reached our bikes. I shoved her bike into the trailer Margot hopped into the little pod, secure from rain and wind. I peddled hard, squinting into grapple. It felt like I was in an icy ticker tape parade. At home we changed and warmed by the fire, shared our adventure and the deflated baggie that lost its water on the ride home.

The storm blew out and sun blew up. Margot and I headed out to hike the hill.

Mom will you hold my hand while we hike up? I can totally run up by myself but sometimes I like to hold hands. 

I’ve never been moved away from. I’ve always been the one to move away. Growing up, my dad’s job hopped us around the country every few years. I left college in Georgia to follow love back to Montana.

It is hard to say goodbye when you are the one leaving but I learned yesterday that it is harder to be the one left. That and, also, I am older and smarter, more in touch with my vulnerabilities, more understanding of mortality. As a mama, I feel my daughters’ emotions and feel what they can’t yet feel because the concept of 1700 miles is about as understandable as next month to my three and five year olds.

We referenced our globe. Ruby found Montana and then Margot found China, where her classmate is from. And then she found Mexico, where our friends live. I pointed to Arkansas, where Pam is moving, and Margot saw what I saw. She said, “Well that’s hardly far at all!” True, compared to China and Mexico.

Our dear friend who is family, Pam, moved away. We’ve seen each other a lot in the last few months, in anticipation of this day. On Sunday I felt panicky like I hadn’t seen enough of her, I hadn’t finished her going away present. Andy gently reminded me of the four going-away parties, the weekend away, the dinners. It won’t ever feel like enough because it doesn’t feel comfortable to imagine her more than 1/2 mile away.

My kids are super sick and the last few days have been emotionally exhausting. Lots of feverish coughing, movie watching, smoothie consuming. Ruby speaks a different language when she’s sick. It’s like whining but more; she speaks whine even when not complaining. Every sentence is almost unbearable. As I was dressing this morning she spoke slowly in a squeaky, barely audible whimper, in Whinese, “maaamaaaaa? I really wish you had a pink bra to match those pretty undies.”

I cried hard yesterday when I hugged Pam goodbye in her driveway. We’d spent the day together, my feverish kids laying across Pam’s lap while she swept their hair from their eyes. It will be a miracle if she escapes illness but she doesn’t care. This is perfectly perfect, she said.

Pam’s departure got me thinking about lots of things but mostly I keep returning to the importance of other awesome, inspiring adults in my kids’ lives. I think back on my honorary aunts and uncles and my real ones. Those relationships shaped me as a young kid, especially the people who talked to me, really talked to me. Asked me questions, called me on my birthday, interacted with me like a real person to be heard from. There are the adults who ask you to sit at the kid table and there are the adults who can’t wait for you to sit on their lap.

Margot and Ruby are the luckiest, in my opinion. Our closest friends have been in our lives for many years and they love our kids in a way that might have initiated because of us but now has nothing to do with us. I am endlessly comforted by and thankful for that. For all the parenting questions I have, I am wholly confident in this: my children are surrounded by the wit and wisdom of passionate, proactive, thoughtful, generous, wise, kind, unique and authentic adults. And that is the most profound, most beautiful education I can give my daughters.