The edits have arrived …
The edits have arrived. So I’ll be back to Juliet for one last think before the copy editing stage. And you know, I’m feeling ready to say goodbye. I’ve been working away at the new book, and discovering new characters, and writing in a different way than I did with Juliet. It feels more free-flowing, less controlled, and more plot-oriented, but that’s okay. Different is good.
As I start this new book, and finish Juliet, I’ve been inspired by Miriam Toews’ career so far. I just finished reading Swing Low, her biography of her father, written and imagined in his voice; and before that gulped down Irma Voth, which was set in Mexico, in a Mennonite compound where a movie was being filmed. A couple of points here. Miriam Toews played a lead role in a movie made by a Mexican director set in a Mexican Mennonite compound (compound might not be the right term, but my sense is these farms are not like villages or towns). And her father died of suicide after a lifelong struggle with depression. What inspires me is that she found ways to incorporate real-life experience into her work. There is no straight line between fact and fiction; it’s threads spun and wound and sewn into beautiful fictional patterns. I suspect that she could not do otherwise. Her creative life is necessary, and can’t be separated from her life. I get a sense of urgency, poignancy, and necessity when reading her work.
And I also experience overwhelming gratitude: that her work exists, that she works so hard to create it, and that I get to read it.
She writes the kinds of books I hope to write … hope that I am writing. Not that I want to mimic her voice, but that I want to build a career out of the things that matter to me, and write books that are heartfelt, maybe even heartbreaking, but also hopeful. That I not fear the insistence of life experience nosing its way into my fiction; but that I not limit my imagination either. I aspire to variety backed by consistency. Which is not the same as predictability.
“Be careful, Carrie. You’re becoming predictable.” I remember a mentor telling me that, many many years ago. I would have been eighteen. I remember thinking that she had a point; and it frightened me. I knew she didn’t mean I should become erratic; no, she was cautioning me to stay creative, to continue to push my limits, not to rest easy.
Many years later, and I don’t rest easy. Except at night, when I sleep very deeply indeed. (Except for last night, when I didn’t. I didn’t rest easy, either metaphorically or literally. Too many thoughts — work, deadlines, food, scheduling — whirling through my mind).
Rewards: sticky parenting methods
Do reward systems work, as a parenting method? I’ve been pretty firmly against them, on principle. On principle, I believe that kids should do their jobs to help the family out, as participants in a collective effort.
But it turns out that our eldest is highly motivated by reward; and highly not-motivated by his mother’s principles. This summer, to earn money, and completely of his own initiative, he worked for his grandma on several very hot afternoons. The work was gardening, which he blithely ignores at home, but at Grandma’s he threw his whole heart into the job. They went to the library and researched plants. They went to the greenhouse, and he picked out flowers and plants based on his research. Then he dug the garden beds and planted the flowers and plants, and watered them. For which he earned some money. And he took great delight in the connection between working hard and earning a reward.
Which got me rethinking my original no-reward system of family governance (or, more precisely, the-reward-is-in-the-happy-feeling-you-get-from-helping-out-your-family system). I’m not abandoning that system, or the concept of responsibility. The kids do have responsibilities, and important ones, like walking to school, and making sure younger siblings get safely to and from school. And going to bed when told. And doing their homework.
Which brings me around to the grey area of piano lessons. They kind of have to take piano lessons; perhaps they would want to even if the choice were wholly theirs, but the truth of the matter is, their mother wants them to take piano lessons, and three out of four children are doing just that this fall. It’s Fooey’s first year, and A and A’s third. Now, before this round of lessons ever started, Albus heard from a friend that the friend’s piano teacher gives out stickers for “good” practices, which, if enough were earned would eventually add up to actual prizes (Albus heard giant Lego ships; I’m thinking portions of this story might be apocryphal).
But in any case. Intriguing. What counts as a prize? For AppleApple, it’s a book. For Albus, it’s Lego. And what counts as a “good” piano practice? Basically just focus and attention. Also, as a rule, play each song at least three times. Albus was over the moon: imagine getting stickers just for practicing the piano. And I thought, imagine children practicing the piano just for getting stickers.
So I made up sticker sheets for each child (CJ could not be left out, and he actually sits at the piano and hammers away to earn his sticker). The rule is only one sticker can be earned per day. I hope it won’t discourage kids from taking an extra turn on the piano if they are so inspired, but I sensed that sticker madness followed by sticker burnout might quickly occur if limitations weren’t instituted.
Before getting all hurray-for-stickers, I will allow that it’s early days, just the second week of lessons, but hurray for stickers! Piano practice, and lessons, have thus far been completely pain-free, even pleasurable. The only issue is children fighting for time on the piano. Practice has been happening first thing in the morning, before school. Best of all (and this is my reward), the extra practicing is paying off: music is being made daily in our living-room.
Big words
“Where’s my yogurt drink?”
“Look in the fridge. Generally perishables are refrigerated.”
“Mom, why do you use such big words sometimes?”
Hm, yes, I suppose that phrasing is a bit obscure. Not quite Conrad Blackian, but also not, “that’s where we stick stuff that needs to stay cold.” All I can say, in my defense, is that I like words, and those happened to be the first ones that popped to mind.
“Sometimes when I say big words, people look at me funny.”
(For the record, she didn’t look like she minded being “looked at funny.” I don’t think she’ll stop trying out big words anytime soon. And neither will I.)
File this exchange under Another Example of Like Mother, Like Daughter.
Kitchen fails and successes: recipes (just for the successes, don’t worry)
We had a lot of these.
And so I made this.
It very nearly turned into a pearsauce fail, as I overfilled a gigantic pot with pared pears and then discovered that even my presumably strong triathlon arms could not stir effectively all the way to the bottom and the smell of scorching alerted the nose to Trouble. At which point, sweating and fighting with the mountain of pears, I very nearly gave up and abandoned ship (er, kitchen). The weather had gotten cool just before school started, but this past weekend was hot and humid, and being stuck inside in a fog of steam is not the best way to celebrate a sticky late-summer day. But I persevered. And learned my lesson: haste makes waste. Transferred fruit to smaller pot. Cooked up smaller batches of sauce, and eventually canned what you see above: two canners full of tasty sauce. Add in the two canners of grape juice put up the previous evening, and count me totally done for the season.
As soon as the lids started popping, I banished the canner back to the basement. There’s still a touch of room in one freezer for small batches of preserves should inspiration strike.
Funny thing is, at the end of the day, I still had two baskets of not-quite-ripe pears sitting on the counter. And so yesterday I made something different for the kids’ school lunches this week.
Here’s the recipe for Fruit Custard Bars (adapted from Simply in Season):
Grease a 9×13-inch baking dish. Cream together 2/3 cup softened butter and 2/3 cup sugar. Add 1 and 1/2 cups whole wheat flour and 1/2 tsp vanilla, and continue to beat until combined. Then stir in 1 and 1/3 cups whole oats. Press into pan, and bake at 350 for 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, mix together 2 cups of plain whole-fat yogurt, 1 cup of sugar, 2 eggs, and 1 tsp vanilla. Pour over baked crust (I didn’t bother to let the crust cool, just pulled it out of the oven after 20 minutes, and poured the custard over top).
On top of the custard, arrange 6 cups of fruit. I used thinly sliced pears, and stewed some plums that were going soft in the fridge, and added those, too. Sprinkle the fruit with sugar and cinnamon, and pop the pan back in the oven, still at 350, for 45-50 minutes, or until the custard is relatively firm. It won’t be as firm in the middle, but should get firmer upon cooling.
Cool on rack, then transfer, covered, to fridge, and cool for another 45 minutes before cutting into bars. Keep the bars stored in the fridge (mine are still in the pan, in fact). It makes a big pan of bars that taste much like a fruit custard pie. The kids were excited to take something other than a cookie to school, though this treat is a bit messier and requires a fork. Here’s hoping the forks return.
:::
While in food-mode, I must pass on this recipe for Quinoa-Bulgar-Spelt Salad, also adapted from Simply in Season. I ate the leftovers for breakfast yesterday, after my long run, and it felt like I was fully nourishing my body. On a side note, our family has decided to “go vegetarian” for a month, so I am on the look-out for more recipes like this (not that the kids ate a bite, I must confess; we took it to our neighbourhood street party, where they downed hot dogs and hamburgers and desserts, and guzzled pop! Odd that none of them tried mom’s quinoa salad offering …).
I plan to blog more about “going vegetarian” soon. Your recipe suggestions are welcome!
Meanwhile, here’s how to make Quinoa Salad:
Start with 3 cups of uncooked grains/legumes in any combination. I used 1 cup of quinoa, 1 cup of bulgar, and one cup of spelt. (I plan to try the recipe with lentils or black beans or even leftover brown rice, too).
Cook the grains/legumes according to package directions.
Meanwhile, in a large bowl combine a variety of chopped seasonal veggies and herbs, in the amount of roughly 4-5 cups. I used thinly sliced red onion, chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, red pepper, zucchini, and carrots, along with a bunch of stemmed and chopped fresh cilantro and fresh basil.
Combine cooked grains/legumes with veggies, and pour over top a dressing made with the juice of 1 lemon + 2 limes, plus 1/4 cup of olive oil, plus salt and pepper to taste. I also added 1 tbsp of cider vinegar. You could use all vinegar and no lemon/lime juice. Or just lemons, or just limes. Or throw in some feta–that would be grand! Whatever you’ve got on hand. Because that’s the kind of salad this is. Expansive. Accepting.
Monday morning: swimmingly
I’ve been wanting to blog all weekend, and have been too busy with food preparation (recipes to come), canning, and parties (tough life, I know). Hurray for a quiet house on a beautiful Monday morning!
For four out of six of us, this morning began swimmingly. Let me explain. We keep aiming to make room for plenty of physical activity, individually and as a family. Kevin has soccer and hockey. I swim, run, bike, and yoga. And we’d like the kids to enjoy the benefits of burning off steam, playing, and being fit.
(Side note # 1: I just found last year’s fall calendar in a drawer, and saw that I’d scheduled “hiking” as a possible family weekend activity. Sadly, that happened precisely never. Given that we had, last fall, a two-year-old, I can see how it fell off the priority list.)
This fall, we’re continuing with activities that have proven easy to maintain, such as the kids walking to and from school every day. We live 1.4km from school, so that’s nothing to sneeze at. Even CJ walks every morning to his nursery school, with his dad. AppleApple will likely continue with rep soccer, and the three oldest kids will play indoor soccer this fall/winter. It’s inexpensive, once-weekly, and will be Fooey’s first experience with organized sports. CJ joins in on weekly swim lessons for all, coordinated so that all kids will be in the water at the exact same time.
(Side note # 2: When examining our budget last month, I discovered that our biggest expense, aside from food and shelter is extracurricular/sports activities. There’s a desire to want to accomodate every interest, but we need to be more creative sometimes. For example, instead of the kids doing hockey, we rent ice time and skate/play hockey a couple of times a month with a bunch of neighbourhood families.)
Earlier this summer, AppleApple mentioned she’d like to swim more often, so she tried out for a swim club … but when I investigated cost and schedule, we realized it was a) crazy expensive, and b) would conflict with other activities. Plus Albus expressed interest in swimming more often, too, and there was no way we could put two kids into this club.
Long story short: it occurred to me that the older kids swim well enough to participate in lane swims, which are quite affordable with a pool pass. Plus, Kevin is learning to swim and would like the chance to practice, too. On Monday mornings, I swim very early, and can do an hour in the pool, shower, and be home before 7am. When I arrived home this morning, Kevin and kids were waiting in the front hall, a bit groggy, in swimsuits, ready for the lane-swim experiment. (And how proud I am at their willingness to give this a try).
An hour later, they burst through the door, glowing. Thumbs up. They’d consulted with a lifeguard, swam with the “oldsters,” and practiced their strokes up and down the lanes. Albus was musing about going more often, on “bad” days (ie. days when he has subjects at school that don’t interest him).
When I start the morning with a run or a swim, I notice an immediate boost in mood; why wouldn’t it be just the same for kids, too?
The energy at breakfast was upbeat and positive. Porridge, toast, boiled eggs. And we still had plenty of time to chat and prepare for the day before saying goodbye.
(Side note # 3: Not everyone needs to schedule time for exercise. The little kids, who won’t get extra swimming time, more than make up for it racing their bikes around the house on the loop of driveway, patio, walkway, and sidewalk. Not to mention much trampolining. CJ: “Look how high I can jump, Mom! You have to come and see me!”)