Saturday, May 21, 2011 | Birthdays, Sleep |
This was one well-planned party. I didn’t plan it, and neither did Kevin. It was planned in detail by the birthday boy, with some initial consultation (to whittle away at the more elaborate and impossible ideas). You can read the plan, on the right. In the end, the party went pretty much exactly like that (minus the 4am wake-up time).
Eight boys walked home from school together. They had a snack. They went to the comic book shop uptown and read comic books on benches (with supervision, I should add). They came back to a pizza supper, and made their sleeping arrangements in the basement. Outside to play baseball.
Ice cream cake served outside (the woman at the shop did not manage to put a “lego block” on the cake, as requested, but she may have been afraid of being featured on Cake Wrecks).
Then some boys played wii in the basement while others played outside til dark. Toothbrushing and pajamas. Reading in the basement (Albus provided a stack of graphic novels). Finally, lights out, a bit after 10pm. We expected talk, and there was some, but by 10:45 all was quiet. Though they woke early, they followed our rule: no getting up before 6. We provided a clock so they’d know for sure. They quietly got a movie started and had been watching for over an hour before we got up.
Kevin made pancakes and I made breakfast smoothies.
There was just time to open cards and gifts from siblings and parents before home-time. Kevin and I agree: this was in many ways easier and less-stressful than the intense two-hour friend party. The boys were very self-sufficient, and all such good kids. It felt almost leisurely. He’s spent the rest of his birthday, so far, playing with a new wii game, and putting together a Lego set he got to pick out himself this afternoon.
We also plan to have all-you-can-eat sushi for supper, and the older kids will get to go to a movie with their dad. And then Kevin and I will sleep and sleep and sleep. Thankfully, the weather was beautiful. I think that’s what made the party so successful. We were able to spend a lot of it outside.
Happy spring!
And happy birthday, ten-year-old boy!
Saturday, May 21, 2011 | Music, The Juliet Stories, Word of the Year, Writing |
I went to a concert earlier this week. If you want to hear one of the songs, here’s her version of “Long Time Sun,” although her onstage version was less-produced-sounding, and we all got to sing along. In fact, we sang along (or chanted) the entire two-and-a-half hour concert.
During the concert, I was struck by two thoughts that are not quite enormous enough to be called revelations, but nevertheless felt revelatory. The first was that I must stay open to mystery. Not sure why I need the reminder, but maybe in all this literal, physical work I’ve been doing toward the triathlon, I’ve forgotten that it is driven by the spirit, and that without a strong spirit, I wouldn’t be able to do it. It also reminded me that my word of the year is “heart.” Still haven’t figured out much about that (admittedly cliched) word and the year’s almost half over; but there’s a piece of mystery to ponder.
The other thought that came over me powerfully is the fortune of my family: my children, my husband. I was just overwhelmed with gratitude for them.
This whole post sounds cheesy, like most heart-felt things. I thought a lot about my Juliet Stories during the concert, and my hope for them is that they express the heart-felt without being cheesy. But this post is written in haste on a sunny spring afternoon and there is no distillation in it. And that, my friends, is the difference between story and blog.
Friday, May 20, 2011 | Birthdays, Kids, Sleep, Writing |
I’ve been neglecting to link to my twice-weekly triathlon blogs on Chatelaine.com, but here’s today’s: an ode to yoga, and to cross-training generally.
:::
In other news, my eldest turns 10 tomorrow, and to celebrate, we’re going all out. He’s invited eight friends for a sleepover party. Already, overnight bags are collecting in our front hall. I’ll be heading up to school soon to supervise the walk home (but from a distance, it’s been requested). Albus has spent a lot of time thinking about this party. He wrote out a draft version of his itinerary, and then a good copy (if you know Albus, you know how unusual this is). The itinerary includes a walk to the comic book store uptown. The boys will then read their comics “on a bench or on the curb.” That’s my favourite part.
I’m not expecting much sleep tonight.
But I hope to rest a little bit this weekend in advance of the duathlon on Monday. My next big challenge. I’ve never raced on a bicycle before. But I did learn how to change a tire yesterday (hands on), thanks to this super-woman. In the words of a favourite children’s story: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can! The race is 4km run, 30km bike ride, 4km run. The bike course is described as “challenging,” and having biked part of it on Tuesday morning, I know why: hills and headwinds. It’s also supposed to be raining on Monday. My goal is simple completion. If I don’t chicken out, if I actually show up and do this, I will be a proud.
And now I see it’s time to switch gears and sign off. Writing day done. Full-on-mama again.
Monday, May 16, 2011 | Holidays, Spring |
This is the time of week when I usually write my “Week in Suppers” blog. But this week my photo-taking fell off the map. Still, I enjoy summing up a week, so here goes. Photos to be added later, if there are photos to be had. (On our cottage weekend, not one of us brought a camera, which was probably a mercy). [note: photos were discovered! Kevin took some on his camera when I was away.]
Monday supper. Black beans in the crockpot with sides of rice, tortillas, and spicy asparagus salsa (locally made, but not by me). I swam and ran early. It was a writing day and I did not get much done. The kids had swim lessons after school, and CJ accepted his teacher’s hand and walked down the pool deck without a backward glance. I went to the bleachers feeling bittersweet. Texted Kevin who reminded me that CJ would be climbing on me momentarily, which turned out to be true. Treats all around afterward. I skipped a planned yoga class because the food and company looked too good, and Kevin had a soccer game. I put the kids to bed by myself.
Tuesday supper. Pasta with pesto. I made a double batch of pesto and froze half for later. With oodles of freshly grated parmesan, this meal cannot be beaten. I had a friend over for lunch, and the little kids and I baked banana bread to share — but when it came out of the oven, it was shrunken and odd-looking. Oh, and it tasted bitter. What could it be? We were theorizing when I checked the recipe and went: DUH! NO SUGAR! How could I have forgotten THREE CUPS of sugar? (it was a triple batch; three times the failure). Maybe it was the fuzzy brain due to the early morning bike ride. Kevin left for work early. There were playdates after school. AppleApple thankfully got a ride to soccer practice (I had been planning to bike with the little kids, too), but even so, there was no way to squeeze in a yoga class in the evening. Kevin and Albus headed out to a chilly first soccer practice (Kevin is coaching). I put the little kids to bed on my own.
Wednesday supper. Tortilla wraps in the oven with leftover beans, rice, grated cheese, red pepper, and grated carrots. Kevin assembled them because I was at my one yoga class managed this week; but they were just coming out of the oven when I got home, so we called the kids in from playing outside and at together. I started the day with a run. It was supposed to have been a writing day, but CJ’s nursery school had invited all the mothers to come early and share cookies (which CJ helped bake; so how could I not? Though as I looked around the room, I wondered: would they do this for father’s day and expect the fathers to come in the middle of a work day?). I tried hard not to resent the interruption. Wrote furiously all afternoon to compensate. Kevin picked up the kids for music class while I went to yoga. No complaints there. Albus had piano and we had the loveliest walk to and from, and then to and from again (I’d forgotten my phone and had to go back; Albus volunteered to go back with me. He even held my hand. To say I treasure these moments sounds cheesy and could not be more true). For date night, Kev and I met on the couch, drank tea, and watched two episodes of Parks and Rec. Kevin hitched up the bike stroller around midnight–at last!
Thursday supper. Pasta with fresh-made red sauce, broccoli, and marinated tofu on the bbq. AppleApple and I had to rush to gobble a serving before leaving for her soccer game in a nearby city. Kevin got up early for yoga, and went directly to work. I got the kids off to school, and I started making sticky buns for my weekend getaway (a two-day process) while the little kids played educational games on the computer; really, I should have been reading to them, but there is only so much multi-tasking I can manage. With the dough on its first rise, the little kids and I packed up the bike stroller for errands. We started with a chiro appt, then headed to the grocery store. The stroller was so loaded at that point that we decided to bike home, drop off groceries, and head directly back out again. The bike/stroller combo was wonderful: fun, easy, quick. The kids just have a blast riding behind me. They make a wall of giggling singing gleefully shouting sound that turns people’s heads as we pass. We headed uptown to the bookstore to buy two birthday gifts for weekend parties, and then next door to the Eating Well for more food. And then home to punch down the dough and set it to rise (again!) in the fridge. At this point, I made the pasta sauce and the sugary/nutty/candy stuff for the sticky buns; I also received an email from my editor that, though I couldn’t stop to savour, filled me with joyous energy. Kids arrived home from school with friends. AppleApple got herself ready, as did I (soccer gear for her, running gear for me). I hurriedly punched down and rolled out the sticky buns, sprinkling with more butter and sugar, and arranging in the pans, then returning them to the fridge for a slow overnight rise. We picked up another child on AppleApple’s team, drove forty-five minutes (my mother arrived to look after the two little ones, since Kevin and Albus had their first soccer game, too), and I went for a run while the girls warmed up with their team. The game was exciting, and the girls won: 7-0. Two glowing girls were delivered home–hungry, too. The weather could not have been more beautiful.
Friday supper. I wasn’t here, but suggested that Kevin serve leftover pasta and sauce. I got up early for an hour-long swim, arrived home and popped the sticky buns into the oven. Kevin went to work early, so I biked the little kids to nursery school as soon as I’d waved goodbye to the big ones. At home: took a quick nap, started packing for a weekend away. The little kids stayed for “lunch bunch” at school, so I got an extra half hour on the other end. The weather was ridiculous: steaming hot and unsettled. We left for the cottage around suppertime, and arrived before dark. No official “supper” for me, but plenty of cheese, crackers, homemade tapenade, and other goodies. Oh, and wine. Can I go back there this weekend, please?
Saturday supper. At home, Kevin made hamburgers and french fries, and the kids had friends over for a “weekend party!” (Kevin says “weekend party” actually boiled down to one can of soda and one small bag of chips per child, plus friends being over, but the kids needed nothing more to have a blast). At the cottage, we started the morning with sticky buns and fresh-cut fruit. I attempted a brutally cold lake swim (in the borrowed wetsuit), then made lunch with my friend and cooking-partner: I made a veggie paella and she made an egg-tortilla bake, and fresh salsa and guacomole, and we mixed up two pitchers of margaritas. That was a two-hour lunch. For supper, we were served an enormous perfectly-bbqued piece of salmon rubbed with something salty and sugary, with bitter greens and fiddleheads on the side, and a starter of asparagus and cheese on puff pastry (recipes, please!).
Sunday supper. At home, Kevin baked mac and cheese. At the cottage (and let’s start with brunch), we enjoyed a spread based around bagels: smoked salmon and tuna, a dip made with something creamy plus capers and smoked salmon; there were carmelized onions; cream cheese and jam; an enormous fruit salad with granola and yogurt on the side; and caesars to start. Before leaving to come home, we ate an early supper: a “Buddha bowl,” which I plan to make this week for my own family. It starts with brown rice, on top of which you can pile a bunch of different ingredients, and top with a tahini dressing. Toppings included: tofu, almonds, spinach, grated beets and carrots, and seaweed. Heaven in a bowl. Happy, happy week.
Friday, May 13, 2011 | Friends, The Juliet Stories, Work, Writing |
That title is grammatically incorrect. Forgive me. It sounds perfect to my ears.
Here it is: good news, arriving in my inbox and waiting for me to get home from running errands on bicycle yesterday, with kids shouting in the stroller behind. I was so busy that I only had time to skim the message once before jumping back into the other projects in my life, namely, cooking, laundry, and children. (Laundry: how can there be so much of you? you never give up).
This was news from my other life, the one where I’m a writer. It was a long message from my editor, who had finished reading the draft of The Juliet Stories I sent awhile back. I’d written many new stories for the revision, and was praying she would like where I’d taken the book.
First, the “bad” news, which is easy to swallow: I will need to rework two stories from the opening section, possibly combining them into one. I like her suggestion to combine the two and will put on my thinking cap. I’m pretty much always up to a good challenge. I will have a month or so to do this. I estimate it will take me three full long days of work, assuming the ideas flow. If they don’t; well, I won’t go there. Why assume the worst?
Because the best is the rest of my editor’s message, of which I’ll share my favourite part here. The hard work, the isolated hours, the years of doubt, all add up to: “My heart was in my throat as I read these new stories.” Emotional connection: it’s what I crave for my writing. I also appreciated, and read with much relief, the line: “The book is cohering so beautifully now …”
I like to think this “Obscure Canlit Mama” blog, now in its third year, had something to do with the creation of The Juliet Stories. It’s brought me connections with other writers; allowed me to be vulnerable; and it’s given me permission to embrace myself as a writer. Sometimes just saying something out loud is enough to make it real.
And now to spend a weekend celebrating by eating cheese, swimming in a lake (I hope–in my borrowed wetsuit), and communing with friends who’ve been with me since I was way more mama than writer. (I’m still way more mama than writer, but I’m not intensive-pregnant-nursing-mama anymore; and somehow that’s changed how I imagine my life and explore other parts of the whole. They’re out of the cocoon, in a way, and so am I).
One last thing. My editor also described The Juliet Stories as “deeply feminist,” which surprised me. It’s not that I don’t see myself as feminist (I do! I am!), but I never imagined writing with the intention of expressing a political viewpoint. I hope she means that the book explores the emotional and physical potential in women’s lives. I do think of my characters, especially the women, as free, somehow; or as free as any human being can be, to claim their own lives and essential selves, and to make choices beyond the boundaries of gender, while still understanding and partaking in the potential of their bodies. “My soul felt decidedly less shrunken when I’d finished reading it,” my editor wrote.
Next up: a complicated rewrite for two thematically linked stories. Followed by the line edit. Followed by … book cover design? Copy editing? And the big intake of breath before the finished book exists and hits stores, and makes its attempt to kick out a place for itself in the tough and largely indifferent world. If I learned anything from the first time around, it’s to enjoy the moments when they come, and not try to put them away and save them for later. Enjoy in a big way. Laugh, cry, shout. Forget muted gestures. There is no way to store the rush of immediacy. Which is why I let myself bask in the feeling of relief yesterday afternoon, in the midst of busyness. Ahhhh.
