Motherhood: the good years
These are the good motherhood years. Not that they haven’t all been good years. But I’m telling you. These are sweet. For starters, I sleep through the night (I mean that literally, as all mothers of infants and toddlers will understand.) But then, my eldest is not so old: he still likes doing things with the whole family. And my youngest is not so old either: he still asks to be carried downstairs in the morning. All appreciate bedtime hugs and kisses goodbye in the morning. All are developing characters with funny thoughts and quirks and individual interests. Bursting with potential. Ages 10, almost 9, 6, and 3. This time is a keeper. Can I bottle it?
:::
A random conversation between CJ and Kevin this morning, on their walk to nursery school (as reported by Kevin):
“Dad, Christmas is on the street now.”
“Are you excited about Christmas?”
Little dance with punches – “Yes! All the presents! How does Santa get all the gifts into the house?”
“Magic.”
“How does Santa do magic without a magic wand?”
Sigh, this is embarrassing, but it’s all I’ve got this morning and I promise to shut up already, soon
As I look out my window I see
leaves in the street
almost bare branches
pale blue sky
a white apartment building with green trim and crooked window blinds
passing cars
a recycling truck
sometimes, people
people walking dogs
people running
people pushing baby strollers
people alone
in pairs
talking
thinking
the floor is warm under my stocking feet
shadows move on the white bare walls
there is an echo
I want to keep this room
bare
echoing
spare
I did not know what I was craving
until I sat down in the quiet of this room
my own room
I did not know how much I longed
to be alone
for a little while
every day
The week in suppers: short and seasonal
Monday. Baked macaroni and cheese, by request. With peas, not by request.
Tuesday. Mashed potato soup (with leeks.)
Wednesday. Potluck birthday supper at my bro’s. I brought quinoa salad and old-style coleslaw.
Thursday. Sweet potato curry with brown rice. Bad recipe. What are we, hippies? Won’t repeat.
Friday. Potatoes, yams, and beets cut like french fries, tossed with olive oil, and roasted with rosemary. Chicken noodle soup, minus the chicken, by request.
**Weekend cooking accomplishment: Baked four loaves of bread. I bake bread by rote. I can bake bread with my eyes closed. I can bake bread in a deconstructed house that teeters on the edge of revolution. All I need is yeast, and an oven.
:::
This is a much-foreshortened week in suppers post. I am grappling with how to present these posts, and would appreciate feedback. Do you groan when you see it’s a “week in suppers” post? Too long? Too detailed? Are the menu ideas useful? I plan to continue doing them in one form or another because it’s easy to forget what’s working (or not), and I need constant reminders. But I also need to find the right format.
New rooms, day one, take a look
**Notes on the rooms.
My office has nothing on its walls. And we’re using my old crappy furniture. But it’s serene, austere, and dare I say perfect as is. I may not change a thing. Yesterday as we worked to move and rearrange four different rooms, I found myself taking moments to sit in my great-aunt Alice’s rocking chair and look at the brick and the lights and the height, and to breathe.
AppleApple and Kevin created a bookshelf from the old costume bureau. An awesome repurposing project. I love that she has The Bible arranged beside other favourites like Bone, Misty of Chincoteague, and Children of War (the latter being a wonderful book that she keeps recommending her big brother read, as way of encouraging him to stop playing imaginary games with exploding bombs.)
The new bunk bed in the little kids’ room is a marvel of design. We found it on kijiji, and it’s not of the best material, but heck, it was available and in our price range. It’s a t-shape, and CJ sleeps in what amounts to a little cozy cave. On one end is a desk with shelves and a built-in light. Bureau drawers are built in to the other end, along with a set of deep shelves. I still can’t believe how different that room looks.
My step-mother figured out how to make a comfy couch out of the guest futon under Albus’s bed. We’ve had the darn thing for about a decade and never knew it was possible. Neither Kevin nor I could understand her explanation (apparently it was very simple.) We’ve decided she operates on a higher level than us. My dad also loaned his muscles and back to the moving. It wouldn’t have gotten done without their help. I’ve gone all wimpy now that I’m running. I keep telling Kevin, I’m a runner, not a weight-lifter. I don’t want to injure myself.
Yet to be done today: painting, or at least prepping for painting; cleaning; and our living-room. I stole that beautiful wooden cabinet for my office from the living-room, and somehow that had a domino effect of toppling the entire room into a disaster zone. You know it’s a disaster zone if the smallest members of your family tell you: “This room is a mess!” Uh, yeah. We’re making use of kijiji to source a few more items. Kijiji is my new favourite virtual place. I’ve been inspired to post a few items for sale, too. If I get organized, I’ll post the entire contents of our attic. My inspiration, in part, came from this blog on the zero-waste home. (And no, we’re nowhere near zero. But hope springs eternal.)
In the new office …
