When I met the husband I was pretty much a full on hippy. At least he thought so. I wore long flowing skirts and dresses with flowers on them. I lived in community with 5 other girls sharing a mattress with two of them, sleeping on floors otherwise, and driving a big white van that had crocheted blankets lining the seats.

Before living with those girls I was what we in Canada called a Granola. Most of the Canadians I know are. Granolas are people who like to be outside, we camp, we hike, we bike we canoe we eat granola bars and trail mix on our three day walks into the middle of nowhere so we can camp in a tiny tent next to a mountain lake where there are no other people, or on an isolated beach surrounded by rain forest. It’s easy to be a Granola in Canada, at least where I grew up. World-class hiking and camping areas are within two hours of the city I was born in.

My first “date” with the Genius Husband involved sleeping outside in the dessert and hiking, we backpacked for our honeymoon.

Over the years and as we have added children I have been gradually morphing from that hippy granola chick I used to be into a suburban housewife. I wear capris and expensive bras instead of sport bras, I haven’t got many flowy skirts and dresses left, I like LL Bean shoes and I shop at target more often than at thrift stores these days, maybe because it’s closer to me. It’s been more than a year since I’ve slept in a tent, and I no longer find the floor an even remotely comfortable place to sleep.

In other ways I suppose I remain a hippy at heart. I prefer homebirth, I’m afraid to vaccinate my children, at least until they’re three, but the Boy is now five and it still hasn’t been done. I used to cloth diaper, but then I tried to do the elimination awareness thing, which didn’t really work that well for me, but the Girl potty trained really early as a result, so now I use disposables because I don’t have laundry facilities, or the money needed to buy a brand new selection of cloth diapers and this city doesn’t have a diaper service. (That was a long excuse for something I feel guilty about.) Let’s see what else, if possible I participate in organic food buying co-ops, my children eat quinoa and lentils, I walk and use public transit for almost everything I need to do outside of my home and I recycle. We use homeopathic remedies and essential oils on a regular basis to deal with illness instead of pharmaceuticals. These are simply things that I consider normal however, maybe because I’m Canadian. I feel far away from the one suitcase owning, living on nothing, free spirited person I was 7 years ago.

I realized the other day that I haven’t gone that far away from her however. The Genius Husband bought some patchouli oil and rubbed some in his hair and beard. As I hugged him a whole lot longer than usual and buried my face in his neck to breathe in his scent mixed with the lovely smell of patchouli I thought to myself, “Wow, I’m still a total hippy after all.”

all content © Carrien Blue


Comments are closed.