More Sayings
CJ’s newest excuse, when he doesn’t want to do something: “I too weak to do it, Mama! I too weak!” This applies to everything from picking up a game thrown in a fit a of pique, to walking instead of strollering, to climbing into a chair when he’d prefer to be helped. So far, I must say, it’s totally working. Who could resist helping a weak two-year-old?
CJ is also throwing more fits than he used to, a surprisingly endearing phenomenon. His feelings are much more sensitive than they once were. Yesterday, at supper, he crawled off his chair and stomped to the kitchen and declared: “I not eating supper ANYMORE!” No one knew what had happened, but he finally told us: Albus had been “interrupting!” With an apology from Albus, he climbed back into his chair and joined us again, entirely cheerful. His declarations of refusal are many, and are set off usually by hurt feelings, by someone telling him he’s doing something the wrong way, or by being ignored or not included, or not included in the way that he wishes: “I not eating cookies ANYMORE! I not be your son ANYMORE! You not be my mommy ANYMORE! He not be my sister ANYMORE!” etc. Maybe it’s because he’s my last, but man, I just love this stuff. It kills me.
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Our house is so exquisitely trashed that I don’t have the heart to tackle the mess all at once. So today I decided to do one room at a time. I started with the office/playroom. Phew. One done. Next up: the dining-room, so we can eat supper together. AppleApple is going to cook with Kevin and they plan to make vegetarian lasagna with garlic bread.
Bonding, Part Two
Non-screen bonding. Still in pajamas. This is our Saturday, so far.
Bonding
Did I ever tell you (confess might be the more appropriate word) that we got our children a wii for Christmas? Yes, despite my determined rhetorical stance against electronic gadgetry, screentime, and giving in to the whims of trend, after much consideration and discussion, Kevin and I decided to get a “family gaming system.” Even just typing out those last three words makes me sigh. Kevin was the more enthusiastic of the giving parents, but I did indeed agree. What swung my vote was the fact that the children were already exposed to screens in a variety of forms. They watched movies, and played games on online sites like Poptropica and TVOkids. Albus played a computer game on Saturday mornings with the others gathered around the tiny screen to watch. We had limits in place on these other uses of the screen, so we figured we could treat the wii in the same way.
And it’s been … fine. Actually, in some ways–not to endorse family gaming systems–it’s proven to be a place of bonding between siblings.
Here’s what’s happening right now: Albus is playing a game with CJ that is easy enough for CJ to play, too. They are active and bouncing and laughing and taking water breaks. I’m not saying this bonding couldn’t happen in many other ways, because it can and it does. But this is okay, too. Okay. Guess that’s as enthusiastic as I can get in my acceptance of the family gaming system.
Compromise. Even I can do it.
Friday Morning Sitting Around
So far, this morning has been less than productive. I wonder, is it the post-reading feeling of calm? Is it the three previous mornings of rising well before dawn? Is it the empty house, children successfully breakfasted and clothed and shuffled off in their various ways to their various schools?
Whatever it is, I am not cutting with efficiency through my writing day. There are a few small edits to make on a few of the Juliet stories. Otherwise, I’m facing brand new projects. One is a bit like poetry, and can’t bear more than an hour’s concentration at a time. I am taking photos from the 365 project and pairing them with words. But I can’t tell whether or not they’re any good. The results have so far been rather koan-like. Mysterious. Do they bear scrutiny? How can I tell? Any visual artists out there willing to look and to comment?
My other projects are in the thinking stage. I have two ideas for two different novels. Yes, novels. Not stories. I know, it’s so unlike me. But after reading Kate Atkinson’s Left Early, Took My Dog, I have a hankering to write a mystery. It’s an old hankering, actually. I have long admired the tidiness of mystery plotting. When I’m down and out, a mystery is what I turn to.
During my last yoga class, an entire plot plunked itself plain and simple into my brain. This is unprecedented. Characters plunk themselves into my brain. Emotions. Landscape. Props. The colouration of scenes. But the solidity of plot has never been my gift. So I am intrigued and curious to begin, and yet I think, not yet. I’ve jotted it down for later.
The other novel project is based on an older manuscript that I discovered when we cleared off a shelf in our bedroom. I couldn’t stop reading it. It’s funny and light and particular. It was written as entertainment, not to be deep. Which isn’t saying it’s superficial, just that it isn’t The Juliet Stories. It isn’t quite so literary. And it’s really funny.
All these projects seem so different from what I’ve been working on. Scattered. I need to find focus. But maybe that’s not what’s meant to happen on this Friday morning. On this Friday morning, I’m treating myself to a second cup of coffee and a lazy happy drifting mind.
Reading Tonight
I couldn’t get the poster to upload, but wanted to let you know that I’m reading tonight in downtown Kitchener at The Museum (formerly known as the Children’s Museum). Doors open at 7pm, but the readings don’t start till 7:30. It’s a free event. I don’t know whether or not there will be drinks available. Should have asked.
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Back from my early morning swim, feeling buoyant. Seems to be the feeling I get after my early morning swims. Could also be due to a piece of good news received in the mail yesterday. I opened the non-descript envelope hurriedly, on my way into the house to turn down the crockpot, with CJ waiting in the truck outside in the driveway (yes, I’m that kind of mother; but the truck wasn’t running). I was running late for an appointment, and didn’t want the lentils in the crockpot to scorch. Then I saw the envelope. It was from the Ontario Arts Council, and I knew what that might mean–grant application denied. Or, the opposite. Ripped it open, read the first line, saw the cheque, and began bouncing and screaming. Remembered to turn down the crockpot. Raced outside to tell CJ. Wondered whether I had indeed remembered to turn off the crockpot. Raced back inside to check. Yes, crockpot turned down. Raced back to truck. CJ mildly interested. Should I really be driving under the circumstances? I asked. It was a brief spell of intense joy, and I’ve learned to embrace those spells full-on when they come, because they don’t last, they can’t, and the intensity quickly dissipates. That’s okay. But the huge smile and feeling of goodwill toward all humankind–that was nice. I will try to keep the feeling of goodwill going.