A time to celebrate
party supplies
Shopping for birthday supplies with my enormously chatty almost-four-year-old. He chose these candies and this candle. Last year he really didn’t want to turn three, and refused for several weeks to accept the change. This year he can’t wait for his birthday. “Is it this month?” he’s been asking … for months.
He makes us laugh. And it is so easy to make him laugh. “How old are you turning again?” I asked yesterday. “You’re going to be five, right?” “What?! No!” Big snorts of laughter. “Oh, I know — you’re turning back to two. Right?” More laughs. “What?! You can’t go backward, Mommy.” “Oh, that’s right. Hm, well, then, you must be turning four.”
“No!” Suddenly serious. “Do it silly again, Mommy.”
I’m glad he’s over his existential crisis of a year ago and happy to be growing up. But here’s the thing. I’m the one who’s experiencing pangs this time around the sun. My littlest is so tall and logical, so learning his letters, so able to dress himself, so trained overnight, so good at playing with his big brother and sisters, so big. And I’m thrilled, and it’s wonderful. And I love sleeping through the night and having this freedom during (part of) the day. But those baby years are exactly what everyone tells you — gone so fast. In a flash.
Could my years already be gone? Yes, by all available evidence they are, for real. But I haven’t quite accepted it yet.
At this moment in time …
Alright blog, what have you got for me today?
This feels like a day for random bits. Things I want to remember about this very moment in time.
**My two eldest children, at this moment in time, have exactly the same shoe size as me. And apparently I have a lot of shoes, because right now my eldest wears a pair of my old running shoes as his indoor shoes at school, another pair as his outdoor shoes, and his winter boots were also formerly mine; and just this morning AppleApple took my pink lightweight tennis shoes to school to be her new indoor shoes. She’s outgrown her old ones. She’s also outgrown all soccer shoes. And this morning started with a lengthy search through her drawers for clothes that still fit. Suddenly all pants are rising above the ankle, and all shirts above the wrist. The very definition of a growth spurt.
**I’m plugging away at my multi-sport activities. This morning was spin class. Do I push too hard in this class? I really give it my all, leave everything in the room; and then look up with glazed eyes at the end of hour and realize it is 7:15am and the bulk of the day’s responsibilities still lie before me.
**I had my first DNF in a race on Sunday. It was a 30km race, and given my injury I could neither train for it, nor hope to complete the distance. I’d accepted that it wasn’t to be a few months ago, but hearing people in spin class this morning talk about their experiences in the same race made me more than a little envious. I feel like I’m holding steady in terms of my fitness. Barely. After such exciting gains last year, it’s difficult to stay positive about just hanging in there. But just hanging in takes commitment too. And I haven’t quit. Four early mornings a week is four more than I was doing two years ago. It’s hard to remember sometimes, but daily commitment and discipline isn’t often or even usually about an immediate reward, nor does it happen because we feel like doing it every day. It’s about making change over time, the steady accretion of experience. Mostly, it’s just about showing up.
**I’m starting to do research on what I hope will be my next book. Kevin and I have marked several writing weeks on the calendar, one per month for the next three months. I’m nervous about diving into a new character and a new world. But I’m curious to see what will come of it. Stay tuned.
**Remember when I used to get a good revelation after most yoga classes? Not necessarily an enormous life-altering revelation, but at least something small, some interesting new way of approaching a problem or idea? And that doesn’t seem to happen any more. It’s made me wonder whether I’ve stopped looking for revelations. Am I going to class free from specific unsolved problems? Or have I forgotten to use that time as a meditative space? I’m not sure. In any case, I took a nice long shavasana yesterday evening, and emerged with the notion that I should learn how to write screenplays. Is that nutty? Maybe it was sparked by reading this article in yesterday’s Globe and Mail about the slow decline of the novel, and the rise of awesome tv shows. A large part of being a writer (for me) is wanting to express ideas and be read, to provide entertainment but also food-for-thought — to an audience. I never got around to writing in-depth about Mordecai Richler’s biography, but one of the things that impressed me about his career was its breadth across the mediums. He wrote frequently for television and radio, and in his early career worked on many screenplays for which he received no credit, but obviously gained valuable experience. Would my abilities fit into other mediums of expression? … that was yesterday’s take-home yoga “revelation.”
**But I’m too tired this morning to follow up. On just about anything. So a quick and dirty blog post it is. And catching up on emails.
**And running birthday party errands for an almost-four-year-old; that will be this afternoon’s main task. The bar for today is set pretty low. I was just glad to get laundry in the washer, and soup in the crockpot after waving the kids off to school this morning.
The week in suppers: the “hungry” month
pancakes for supper
**Monday’s menu** Red sauce with hamburger. Pasta. Steamed broccoli.
**Convenience** Went for ease over effort tonight. Thawed homemade sauce, boiled water.
**Tuesday’s menu** Choose-your-own-adventure-noodle soup. Japanese broth. Unadulterated broth. Egg noodles. Rice noodles. Chopped scallions. Fried cabbage with carrots, tofu and ginger.
**Inspiration** Made a huge fresh pot of turkey stock. Nope, not vegetarian, but I’m a big believer in broth. So I buy bones and make stock and freeze it for soups and such.
**Cabbage** There were complaints over the cabbage/carrot stir-fry again. Thing is, we’ve got a lot of cabbage and carrots … and not much else. ‘Tis March. The “hungry” month, I’ve seen it described. I promised to make a coleslaw next time with the next cabbage.
**mini-recipe** Japanese broth: Eight cups of stock, 1/2 cup tamari sauce, 4 tbsp sugar, salt to taste. Heat to boiling. Serve over noodles. At the table, sprinkle individual bowls with scallions, hot pepper flakes, and Chinese five-spice, to taste.
**Wednesday’s menu** Lentil curry (crockpot). Baked rice.
**Convenience, again** It took a bit of effort during the breakfast hour, but lentils + crockpots = easy. And then I went out for supper (with my sibs) and didn’t even taste the meal I’d made. Albus told me it was pretty good and he’d had two bowls. There seem, however, to be a lot of leftovers.
**Thursday’s menu** Leftover noodles fried with leftover cabbage and tofu.
**Thanks Kevin** Over the supper prep hour, I took AppleApple to her goalie training, and did some secondhand shopping. It was nice to return home to a tasty meal; I rarely object to reinvigorated leftovers.
**Friday’s menu** Leftover lentil curry. Leftover rice. Fresh baguette.
**Guess what?** That lentil curry did taste pretty good. It definitely hit the spot after a run/soccer practice. This menu was a little light on the veggies, however.
:::
**Weekend kitchen accomplishments** Nil. (See yesterday’s post.)
**Cooking with kids** Albus’s menu. Crepes with maple syrup, and strawberries and blueberries from the freezer. Bacon. Breakfast sausages. Baguette.
**Mmmmm** Some small debate over what to call breakfast-for-dinner. Brupper was roundly rejected. Albus thought it should simply be called brunch. Whatever it is, it was delicious and there were no leftovers. Not a scrap.
Without supervision
Here’s what the kids do when they’re not being closely supervised.
Giant mudpools in the sandbox?! I don’t recall authorizing the use of the hose. Um, Kevin? You? No?
:::
Here’s what the parents do when they’re not being closely supervised.
At least, it’s how we polished off the remains of a Saturday night without children (who were once again sleeping over at Grandma’s … we could get used to this). Except it occurs to me that we shouldn’t get too used to it. I am not my discplined self without the children around. In fact, it got me wondering whether the children have made me who I am. I think they stake some major claim.
Yes, it’s fun to play without supervision. But a little oversight may not be an altogether bad thing.
Best-of-day moment
my boys
Yesterday the phone never stopped ringing, and it wasn’t telemarketers calling either; it was just one of those days. Today the phone hasn’t rung once and the house is quiet. Yesterday I was abuzz with energy and excitement. Today I feel the need for an afternoon caffeine boost. Thank you, cup of sugary tea.
Yesterday lots of pretty awesome things happened, but my favourite moment was sitting outside in the super-hot sunshine with my eldest, sharing a street dog. He topped his half with pickles, mustard, and ketchup. I topped mine with pickles, hot peppers, and ketchup. He was briefly out of school due to a crazy bug bite that clearly required attention. After the dr’s appointment, we went to the pharmacy together, and then I spotted the hot dog stand. He was hesitant and concerned about missing more school. He kept checking his watch. Finally he said, “Whatever you think, Mom.” And I thought, YES! More time with my boy! How often does this happen?
I’ve been doing about one reading/week since the book came out. Today I read and spoke to a grade ten class at a nearby high school. The students were great, and came up with lots of excellent questions, both about the sections I’d chosen to read (largely around the theme of activism and responding to human-made atrocities) and about the writing process. I was nervous, but need not have been. Hard to believe my eldest will be that tall, that thoughtful, that nearly-grown-up-looking in just five years.
Will he still say, “Whatever you think, Mom?”
:::
Interested in bringing The Juliet Stories to your book club? My publisher has provided a thoughtful “Reader Guide,” food for further thought. It can be accessed by visiting The Juliet Stories at House of Anansi, and then clicking on “Reader Guide.” (It’s a PDF file.)