“It’s your turn to change a diaper.” There was a hiss in my voice.
“You don’t think maybe you should try and get them washed instead?”
The quarrels got more and more frequent. Gregory spent very little time with the boys, but he had no problem imposing his ideas, while not even taking the time to read the articles on modern parenting I recommended.
When we got loud, Vanya and Daniil stood stock-still, watching the spectacle intently, as though they didn’t want to miss anything. The boys observed our behaviour with an interest they didn’t lend to a single other educational
activity.
“We’re setting a bad example for them,” said Gregory. “We really need to tone it down.”
He was right. I tried my best to regain my composure.
“Mommy isn’t angry with you,” I said, trying to reassure them, opening up the arms where they would never take refuge.
Gregory told me I was doing too much. He wanted me to relax, and suggested that I spend an evening out. I was becoming wild, like the boys, he said. If I cut ties with all our friends, how were they supposed to learn to socialize?
He promised he’d participate more, and I promised to try and loosen up.
“Do you want to ask your mother to come visit?” he asked. “She could help out if you’re finding it’s too much work.”
“No,” I said. “I’m all right.”
“Or mine?” he said. “She’d be happy to come and meet them. She was a big help to Ian when his girls were little.”
I hadn’t spent much time with my nieces, but the rare times I saw them, they called me Aunt Emma and had been excessively polite. The twins were nothing of the sort, and I could already hear my mother-in-law’s comments.
“Listen, I’m fine. I don’t need any help. I—”
He interrupted me. “What if we went camping?”
“Camping?” I said. “In the woods?”
“Of course,” he said. “Come on, we’ll do it right. I promise, we’ll go glamping.”
Gregory was kidding; he loved the outdoors, and had no need of the creature comforts I did. Just thinking about the preparations exhausted me, but he had made his decision and was already planning to take Friday off.
On Thursday I ran a few errands with the boys, then took advantage of their naptime to pack up our gear. I had to limit myself to a very small selection, as we would be going by canoe with very little room for provisions. It was only mid-May, but it was hot. I planned to bring summer clothes. There was already so much camping equipment that I only brought a few toys and the boys’ stuffed animals. They would find plenty to entertain them in the woods. When I was done, six waterproof bags sat lined up on the bed. They were big, folding carriers that closed with a buckle. We had bought them several years ago, when we still lived in Quebec and regularly went on canoe trips—which is to say, a lifetime ago.
I had hoped to take grand trips through Europe or the States with the twins, but since the horror of our first flight, I wasn’t eager to repeat the experience anytime soon. It was probably better to start off with something simple.
The hours in the car were difficult. The boys, it turned out, got motion sickness in the car, which meant we had to make a number of stops, considerably prolonging the drive. Fortunately, they loved the trip across Lake Muskoka. The weather was perfect and a gentle breeze ruffled their hair. Ours was the only boat on the water, so we had the lake all to ourselves. Wrapped up in their lifejackets, Daniil and Vanya leaned out to trail their fingers in the water, smiling serenely.
Gregory steered the canoe with ease. Nestled between his legs, I kept an eye on the boys up front. I felt happy, and let him do all the paddling, since he didn’t really need me. This hadn’t been a bad idea after all. The wilderness would do us all a world of good. The water lapped gently against the hull of the canoe, and the muddy smell of the lake was exhilarating.
The campsite Gregory had chosen was completely isolated on a rocky shore. A fully equipped yurt waited for us. I was surprised how comfortable it was: there was a living room with a little fireplace, three beds, and a kitchen. As soon as we arrived, we decided to unpack and start a fire. Gregory wanted to involve the boys. The three of them left for a long while, and returned with their arms loaded with firewood. The fire fascinated them. I realized that they may never have seen one before. Once we were all settled in, we let them play.
I’d bought a pair of rubber-soled canvas water shoes for each of us from the Walmart in the Dufferin Mall. They were hideous, but good for walking on the rocks and dried quickly. I’d been surprised to find that, while they were the same height, the boys had different shoe sizes; in their thin canvas sneakers, Daniil’s feet were clearly a size larger than Vanya’s. Gregory put his on and started waddling like a duck to make the boys laugh. They hesitated for a moment before following suit, walking behind him.
“Come on, let’s put our feet together and get a picture of all our matching shoes.”
We all pointed in a right toe and made a star. I took a picture underwater, which, with an Instagram filter, looked quite good. I remembered having similar sandals for playing in the water when I was young. My parents had never taken me camping, but we’d often gone to the beach in Maine. I remember being bored, playing alone in the waves. It was nice to know the boys would have each other to play with.
The water was shallow a long way out and the forest
