A Mother’s Day Love Letter to Adventure
Adventure is stitched into the fabric of our family. It’s what fuels us and keeps us connected.
We moved to Nova Scotia from British Columbia, where the mountains shaped us. Now it’s all about the ocean. As a mother, I wake my son up early to catch low tides and wander the windswept beaches before the rest of the world stirs. We chase waterfalls. We sail. We climb boulders near Peggy’s Cove.
And while our adventures are starting to reach farther, right now, we’re revelling in the Canadian backcountry in all its wild, glorious, breathtaking beauty.
Sounds picture perfect, eh? It certainly can be.
It can also be a challenge.
Before my son was born, I was a launch-me-out-of-an-airplane kind of girl. I slept on sea ice in polar bear country. Swam with sharks in the middle of the Pacific. I was prepped and packed, ready to go minutes after I opened my eyes in the morning.
That continued in the early days of motherhood. I’d simply plunk my son in his carrier, and up the mountains we’d go. It’s not that easy anymore, now that he’s almost eight years old.
There’s resistance. Boundary pushing. And the latest? An outright refusal to wear pants.
I am practical to a fault. I say things like, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing choices.” So to have a little human—one that I’m tasked with protecting—meltdown with the insistence of wearing pants, well, it can send me for a tailspin.
“Just get there,” I tell myself. Because once we do, I know he’ll be bounding ahead on the trail, eyes wide with curiosity—pointing out bugs, naming birds, lifting rocks in hopes of spotting a salamander.
Adventure is our language. Our connection. I knew it for sure when he was just three years old. One evening, I walked into his room to find his hands pressed against the window. He was watching the sunset melt into a still lake, completely awestruck. He turned to me excitedly and said, “Mommy, look, the sky is in the water!” That wonder in his eyes—that knowing—I’d felt it before. I knew that nature would be his grounding force, too. And that we’d share it. Together.
These simple, beautiful moments keep me grounded in the kind of childhood I’m determined to give my son—the wind-in-your-hair, sun-on-your-face kind of childhood.
There’s no denying it—he’s growing up. Fast. And he’s starting to form a life of his own, which includes passions that aren’t mine. Some of those moments land right in the heart.
So I carve out space for us to wander. I choose moments that bring us closer.
This summer—after camps and soccer practices—we’ll keep it simple. We’ll sail Nova Scotia’s stunning coastline, shaped by winding inlets and hidden coves. We’ll stargaze from our campsite in Kejimkujik. Zoom down the trails on our mountain bikes. Dig for crabs in the warm shallows of PEI.
As the world crowds in—school, schedules, screens, social lives—nature is how we come back to ourselves. I believe it always will be. When he’s older and life gets loud, I hope he’ll remember the stillness of the woods. The slap of cold saltwater. The thrill of a summit view. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll still share a few of those moments together.
Today, we lace up. Pack too many snacks. Push through the resistance. And toss in an extra pair of pants.
5 Tips for Getting Out the Door
- Let go of time: Adventuring with little ones isn’t about the perfect day—it’s about being there. Let go of the pressure to do it all. One small spark of wonder—a bird call, a scurrying crab—beats a packed schedule every time.
- Loop them in: Let your kids help decide where you’re going or what gets packed. Give them choices: This trail or that one? Granola bars or fruit? It gives them a sense of ownership and makes them feel like part of the team—and that energy matters.
- Get ahead of the game (while they sleep): Mornings are smoother when the scramble is handled. The night before, pack and place all the gear in the car. Prep food and leave the cooler by the fridge. That way, when the meltdown inevitably comes, you’ve got fewer fires to put out.
- Make the journey fun: We don’t do screens in the car. Instead: sketchbooks, nature bingo, car games like “I spy” or “guess who.” Our secret weapon is the Yoto Player—stories, music and podcasts that hold their attention. Add a few fidget toys and you’re golden.
- Bring a buddy: Everything’s better with friends. Even a path that might usually earn some groans can feel fun with a buddy in tow. Suddenly, they’re racing to the next tree, spotting shapes in the clouds or inventing secret trail games. A little peer energy goes a long way.
