Climb. Stand. Eat.

Why eat off your tray while sitting in your high chair when you can eat off your tray while standing on the arm of your high chair? You’ll scream your lungs out if someone tells you not to, too.
It’s funny, but almost as soon as I entertained the notion of babysitting this coming year, the opportunity evaporated; and I don’t think I’ll seek out others. If it happens, it happens, and it feels like perhaps life is pointing elsewhere instead. Really, I operate within this ephemeral combinaton of action and acceptance. Chasing the most vital dreams, opening myself to the unexpected, trying to embrace where I’m actually at. Can I confess that it feels harder, now, to be mothering an adventurous 14-month-old, than it felt when Albus and Apple-Apple were similarly aged, and I was still in my twenties? I gave myself over to that role wholly; but am experiencing more ambivalence now, itching to re-emerge into my own individual self; but don’t want to cheat this sweet young man of whatever intensity of mothering he needs.
Interesting times.
The laundry calls. As do the “little kids.”

Playing School v. Real School


Yesterday was so peaceful. We played school.
Today, I was up early anticipating some time alone to blog and email friends and prepare for a writing day; sort of forgot about the two cakes waiting on the counter to be decorated for real school’s cake decorating contest. It was bottom of the barrel around here … what could be scavanged from cupboards to decorate cakes, not to mention the cakes themselves were so moist only I could frost without eviscerating them in the process. It took me eleven minutes to smear white frosting on one round cake. “These cakes could win the ‘most pitiful’ competition.” The kids riffed on that theme for awhile, but bless them, they weren’t in the least discouraged. Apple-Apple took her time and planned carefully, “Autumn tree with roots,” and Albus chucked things on randomly and then declared that it was a composting cake. (Both went with the “eco” theme.)
I should post photos, but honestly … pitiful. We had five minutes left over in which to eat breakfast, dress, and run to the walking school bus. Poor Kevin was tasked with driving the cakes to school (yes–cakes, not children, how’s that for eco madness).
Now I’m upstairs for writing day. Feeling resistant because this last story isn’t yielding easily. I’m digging through the cupboards dragging odds and sods off the shelves and tossing the mess onto the blank; a composting story, I suspect, rather than “autumn tree with roots.”

She Went Away

To summarize: eat, talk, listen, read, laugh, drink, sleep, stroll, repeat (with cheese) (without interruption) (at leisure).

Link

For those interested in knowing more about Nina’s buying club, click here to read a recent article in the local newspaper. 

More later about this mama’s weekend away with girlfriends, and how the family survived. Writing morning, and I’m working on One Last Story for this book (nope. the manuscript wasn’t quite done).

Commit

First, news. The New Quarterly will be publishing not one but THREE new stories from this (nearly) completed collection in their upcoming fall issue. I will notify you and harass you at that time to go forth and purchase said truly lovely literary magazine. And because you are patiently accompanying me on the writing journey, here follow a few encouraging words from the editor on these stories: “I’ve read all three stories now and am excited about them, about these characters which have both complexity and mystery, and about what you are doing with the narrative structure and the language … to get at the complexity of human relationships and feelings which are seldom simple and straight-forward but more often ambivalent and contradictory. You put it so well yourself in one of the stories: She wants every moment to yield to possibility. She wants every moment to remain in motion, to admit that it is many things, all at once.”
It is lovely news indeed, both to be anticipating publication, and to hear from an editor that she is reading these stories as I have written and intended them.

Second, I feel myself coming around toward a decision (how’s that for muddling) about this coming year (by which I mean this coming school year, since that’s when the new year really starts for those of us who are parents). I am seriously entertaining the idea of babysitting another child, close in age to CJ, two days a week. That would mean I wouldn’t be doula’ing, which has given me pause; but this most recent doula experience (which I didn’t blog about) really clarified the difficulties of committing to that work at this time in my life … and more importantly at this time in my children’s lives. Look at that kid up there. He’s 14 months, active, energetic, busy, animated, bursting with New, open like a sponge to learning, and I have the opportunity to stay home and share this time with him. As I’m envisioning it right now, I will commit to two full days at home, very child-focussed; and at least one full day of writing; and one more day when I’ll exchange childcare with a friend. That will leave one day free and unscheduled. I also plan to take one night class this fall toward the eventual re-education plan.

Life will be easier and I’ll feel less muddled, less distracted, when I commit. But I take commitment pretty seriously, which is why I want to be certain, gut and heart.

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About me

My name is Carrie Snyder. I'm a fiction writer, reader, editor, dreamer, arts organizer, workshop leader, forever curious. I believe words are powerful, storytelling is healing, and art is for everyone.

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