Word of the year
“there was such a moon”
I cheated. This year, I’ve claimed two words. My word-of-the-year friends were skeptical at first, but I swear I saw this online somewhere and it’s allowed. (Are there actual formal rules and guidelines for word-of-the-year? I suppose it is right there in the title, singular, not plural).
Well.
My word of the year is work/play.
It was going to be work. Work grabbed me and shook me and said, hey you, this year, you’re going to focus on me. And I replied, sounds good, I’d like that. So I walked around with Work for a week or more, quietly testing it out and accepting it as my word. Except it didn’t seem complete all by its rigorous demanding lonesome. That’s when Play jumped into the mix. Hi there, remember me?
Here’s the thing: in my world, in my being, Work comes naturally. Work is Play. I am easily obsessed by the completion of goals. I like to do things. I throw myself in really deep and sometimes get lost inside of Work. Yes, I want this year to be about Work–about Working, to be precise. But I need to strive for some balance. I need to seek out Play, too, accept it when it comes knocking at my door.
For me, Play is sometimes more like Work. Not always, not precisely, but let me put it this way: I will beeline for my office at the mere suggestion that there’s work to be done; it takes more effort, more convincing, to call me outside to play. Sad but true. It is also true that I could not create what I do without going outside to play. So my work stands to suffer and stagnate without making room, taking time, clearing space, to leap into the spontaneous, the adventuresome, the just plain fun.
One of my word-of-the-year friends told me I should make a “Playlist” (nice!). On the spot, I couldn’t come up with much. Ask me for a Worklist and I’ll get down to business. But what’s on my Playlist? Truthfully, I don’t know yet. Surprise me, Playlist. (For some reason, horseback riding was the one thing that leapt immediately to mind).
I also aim to combine Work and Play this year. They don’t have to stand in opposition to one another. Where do these words align, in my life and yours?
Yesterday held a satisfying mix of work/play. I ran with a friend before dawn; served breakfast, plus made supper in the crockpot; got everyone out the door; napped for 20 minutes; worked on a new song at the piano for half the morning and worked at my desk for the other half; picked up my youngest from nursery school; ran errands; ate lunch; squeezed in a little more writing time while he watched a movie (and no, I won’t apologize for the tactic); picked up the girls early from school for their piano lessons; visited with a friend who works at the same place the girls have their lessons; arrived home to finish making supper and hang laundry; parented some bad meal-time behavior; headed out for supper with my siblings, within walking distance; picked up Albus and walked him (almost all the way) home from his piano lesson; walked to meet with friends over tea to talk about word-of-the-year; and finally, at the end of the day, spent time with Kevin.
I was going to try to categorize each item above as either work or play or work/play, but realized I’m not sure where everything falls. Serving breakfast to my kids can be really fun when we’re all talking together; or it can be a real chore when I’m hungry too and everyone’s grumpy and wants something different and we discover homework that still needs doing, etc. I also realized that there isn’t really room for the critical element of “rest” within work/play. I’m not going to add a third word. But it’s there, lurking behind the scenes. The lack of it gets in the way of both work and play. I don’t care to focus on it, but hope to get enough of it, both mental and physical, this year. (Play seems like mental rest, though, doesn’t it?).
Hope for the best (the meltdown version)
I was hoping for the best yesterday. Good to stay optimistic. Also good to set expectations LOW to MIDDLING. Yesterday, swim lessons began again, plus soccer, plus more soccer. The unpromising start to swim lessons included bringing the wrong bathing suit for Fooey (much much too large–her sister’s, in fact), and CJ declaring he would NEVER duck his head under the water. (“Just tell the teacher no thank you,” I advised. “But the teacher ALWAYS wants me to.” “I get that. Just tell her no thank you, not today.” “NOT EVER!”) This led to full meltdown on the pool deck. Somehow, two kind lifeguards hauled him off me and got him into the pool. “Go! Give us five minutes!” By the time I got up to the seating area, he was fine. So fine, you’d never have guessed he’d recently been in full mutiny. We ended this fine opening swim session by losing one child’s underpants. Found later in her pocket to everyone’s amusement.
Remember how I’d planned to read to the little kids during AppleApple’s soccer time? Turned out it was in a school gym, with loud music pumping–more of an aerobic workout than a soccer practice. The girls had a blast, including Fooey. Meanwhile, ever-jolly CJ made me cover his ears basically the entire time. We couldn’t read anyway. Too loud. This is not a problem easily solved. No brilliant brainwaves came to mind as I contemplated another ten weekly sessions in this gym, staring at the little Canadian flag pinned to the wall, watching a bunch of lively girls leaping joyfully, whilst trying to remain compassionate toward a constantly-complaining three-year-old. Nope, not seeing the bright side.
At the end of that, we drove across town to pick up Albus and Kevin, who were at a different indoor field for their soccer practice (one-car family, remember?). CJ spent the opening minutes lying on the floor declaring life not worth living (to summarize), or at least not worth living given the lousy choice in snacks his mother had brought. Finally, I found a candy cane in my pocket. This proved to be “too spicy,” but worked as distraction. AppleApple got some playing time with the boys’ team; we all went in to watch. Fooey picked artifical grass. CJ complained about not having a ball to kick.
Basically, CJ is at a stage/age where he can effortlessly suck the fun out of just about any situation. For example, grocery store this afternoon. CJ in full tantrum seated in the cart wailing over and over the touching phrase: “Multi-coloured mini-marshmallows!” My skin must be elephant-thick by now, and thank heavens. Nothing draws the gaze of passersby like a screeching three-year-old kicking the sidewalk and declaring his lower legs–yes, the lower legs, to be specific–“too tired!” to go on. I’m not saying all gazes are critical. Some are closer to pitying, some to gratitude–thank God that’s not me. Which is admittedly how I feel now when I hear a tiny infant wailing from inside a baby carrier. I know the mother’s pain–how the baby is probably hungry and wants to nurse and she’s pulling a toddler by the hand and they just need to get this one final errand run, please, please, please just make it baby.
This too shall pass, in other words.
This too shall pass.
Light and quick (plus news)
Today I feel overwhelmed. Not by emotion, but by the sheer volume of tasks and appointments and activities, and by trying to keep on top of it all. My google calendar and desktop calendar and beside-the-phone calendar are all working overtime. I keep emailing my husband with more info, more FYIs. At spin class, to which I dragged my aching legs this morning, one of the instructor’s favourite calls of encouragement is: Get on top of it! But as soon as you’re on top, you’re spinning back down and around again. Faster and faster.
I’ve already decided to drop my daily food photo. With early exercise and school and work and making supper before eating breakfast, there is no time to style a plate of leftovers in order to catch the best morning light (see above: waffles, so pretty on Sunday morning). And it can still be a weekend project, aiming for two photos/week.
Back to spin class. I used to hate the fast spins: light and quick. I preferred the seated climbs, digging down, adding resistance, slowing the legs, basically pushing weight with my muscles. But the faster my legs spun around, the more out of control I felt. Here’s what I’ve figured out: the more engaged my core, the faster I can spin. With that central stability to hold me steady, my legs can whirl faster and faster while staying in control. I’m learning to like light and quick.
So what is holding me steady as my life begins to spin again, faster and faster? What’s at the core? What brings me joy and energy and determination–and stability? A bunch of thoughts jump to mind.
* family
* friends
* time alone in a quiet house
* sleep
* exercise
* dreaming
* goals
* connections
* routine
* little adventures
* sharing
* creating
* feeding
None of these are going to be my word of the year (to be revealed later this week, after I’ve shared it with my word-of-the-year partners). But there has to be room within the crazy for all of these things. It might mean finding space in the midst of the hurry. It might mean turning inconveniences into opportunities. For example, this afternoon we go from swimming to a soccer practice. Swimming’s for all the kids, but soccer practice is just for one girl; in other words, the little kids have to be dragged along. This could go badly. Bored kids, tired mom. Or it could turn into quiet time spent together, doing things we don’t always have time for: snuggling and reading while we wait. That’s my plan. I can hope for the best, as Albus would say.
:::
News! On the work-related front!
**I’ve seen the full cover for Juliet, and the book is being sent to print later today(!!).
**Next week I’ll head into Toronto to plan publicity with Anansi.
**This week I’m working on a web site to promote the book.
**Last night I sat in my office and listened to the first mix of the song I wrote and recorded for one of my characters in Juliet–my brother, who is a professional musician and producer, did the recording and production. I’m hoping to find some way to connect the two mediums.
**And today I am going to spend my writing time with The Big Fat Juicy Belly Worm.
**Also, as some of you may already know, I’ve signed on as an editor/writer for Storywell, a new local business that launches on January 19th. If you live locally, and you are interested in writing, please mark your calendars (desktop, google, beside-the-phone) and come out. Info below. Spread the word.
Word-of-the-year-past
It’s almost time to talk about my word of the year for this year to come.
But first I want to reflect on the word I chose last year. It was HEART. Not a word you want to come across too often in a collection of poetry lest you begin to suspect the poet of being a) in need of a thesaurus; or b) someone who missed her calling as a composer of greeting cards. Yup. It’s a word with the potential to be shallow, sentimental, Valentine-shaped. And yet it’s also a word with muscle, quite literally. And that is how I used the word (or how it chose to be used by me) this past year.
When I chose HEART, I was thinking of yoga’s chest-opening exercises, of being more open and more loving and kind. But instead I found myself, over and over again, thinking of the noun, of my actual pumping heart. This past year I made my heart work harder than it ever has before. I asked it to power me through training and races at distances I’d never imagined enduring. And my heart adapted. I don’t know the mechanics of long-term training, but somehow over many months my body became more efficient at moving and using oxygen. When I began training, I didn’t know what endurance really meant; all I knew was that I didn’t have it. Over the course of the past year, I learned that endurance is mostly about the ability to recover quickly. In fact, as I’ve experienced it, endurance means many quick recoveries amidst ongoing hard effort. This is best understood in the context of a race, but if you’re a naturally competitive person, like I am, you’ll get a taste for it during every run, every swim, every bike ride. It means feeling spent, and discovering another layer of strength.
All of which also means that my word of the year was taken awfully literally. And that wasn’t what I’d intended.
Surely there’s a cliche in here somewhere, something we could put on a poster, perhaps? Yes, if I dig just a little deeper, I think there is. Because it came to me this morning that while strengthening my literal HEART, I learned about courage. I learned to see myself as courageous (on a small scale), capable of enduring despite momentary doubt or pain; and that in turn gave me courage–to dream bigger, push harder, attempt more, and above all, to trust myself. I may feel spent–speaking metaphorically–but if instead of giving up or giving in to the feeling I let myself breathe for a moment, I will find another layer of strength. How often do I feel discouraged? Tired? Doubtful? Uncertain? These are every day emotions. They aren’t necessarily enormous or overwhelming, but even on a small scale, anxiety or doubt can nibble away at resolve. To live a full life, I want to take chances, to push the pace, to try things I’ve never tried before. I want to answer that voice in my head that is whispering “Can I do this??” with “I don’t know, but I’m going to try.”
I might fail. I might run out of steam and stagger across the finish line. It might not work out this time. But if I’ve tried, I’ve learned more than if I hadn’t.
That’s where HEART took me this year. So I suppose it has been an opening exercise.
The week in suppers: a new year
**Monday’s menu: Mac and cheese baked with ham. Leftover Chinese takeout.
**Because: Kevin was in charge today. Mac and cheese with ham was a meal specifically requested for a holiday treat.
**What I ate: Warmed up soup and leftover tofu and broccoli over rice. I don’t like mac and cheese. See, we accomodate many preferences at our table.
**Tuesday’s menu: Baked potatoes. Green bean hash.
**Bonus: We actually had sour cream as a topping for the potatoes (we usually use yogurt) because we’d gotten sour cream to go with chips and dip on New Year’s. Turns out only me and AppleApple like sour cream. Lucky us.
**The side: The green beans were ho-hum. But it’s my fault for buying green beans out of season. They were tough. This is the problem with local eating: one gets spoiled by the real deal, and the imported stuff does not pass muster. So it’s back to beets and cabbage.
**Wednesday’s menu: Kids at at grandma’s house. Parents ate at a movie theatre.
**Why? The occasion was a sleepover at grandma’s, which the parents celebrated by going to a yoga class together (seriously), and then out to a movie (The Descendents; not cheery). We got panini sandwiches and ate them in the theatre. A pretty good date.
**Next time: Choose a more light-hearted film.
**Thursday’s menu: Risotto. Roasted squash.
**Uh-oh factor: I used nearly 3 cups of raw rice to make what looked like a massive cast-iron pan of utterly delicious risotto (with onions, garlic, turkey stock, wine, butter, grated parmesan, salt and pepper). Our eldest was at another sleepover. Our youngest thought it was yucky. Our second-youngest ate soup instead. The rest of us ate the entire pan of risotto. Vanished. Scary. Next time I’ll have to use four cups of raw rice.
**Happy daughter: This meal was AppleApple’s request for a special holiday meal. I don’t make it unless I’m blessed with extra time. It’s stand-and-stir cooking. But oh so insanely good. Thank you, Italy.
**Friday’s menu: Sweet and sour chicken in the crockpot. (Actually leftover turkey). Steamed rice. Cabbage salad with tamari dressing.
**Finally: A Side! AppleApple and I could not stop eating it. Guess we were starved for the crunch of cabbage.
**The end: That’s the last of the leftover turkey. I’ve got a few parts frozen to make stock, but we shall soon be back to all-veggie meals once again. Perhaps with the exception of “cooking with kids” when we will allow the kids to cook with meat if they so chose.
:::
**Weekend cooking accomplishments: Eight loaves of bread (double batch), plus homemade pizza on Saturday. Good enough.
**Cooking with kids (Sunday night): Albus’s turn. (pictured above)
**On the menu: Garlic bread. Meat lasagne. Cababage salad with cooked dressing. Plus sparkling cider to drink.
**Reviews: Excellent.