July 30, 1999
It’s Our Anniversary!
Ten years, and it does feel significant. Kevin and I have been enjoying reminiscing about our day, remembering where we were, who we were with, all of the happy emotions, and marvelling at the fruits of our marriage (four of them, specifically). Check back later, because I plan to post some scanned photos from way back then (though, honestly, it doesn’t feel that long ago, it feels like the blink of a cosmic eye).
The best part of today was this lovely surprise: Kevin arriving just after us at the Rec Centre, where the kids take swim lessons every morning. Kev said he could hear CJ’s screams from the parking lot (CJ wasn’t too pleased about being dragged away from a small tree by the bike lock-up which he fancied attempting to climb), and he sprinted to intercept us before I began the rather complicated changeroom dance. He handed me this book (Olive Kitteridge, by Elizabeth Strout), which he’d bought on the way, picked up CJ, and honestly, I just couldn’t stop smiling. He stayed for the whole set of lessons, and it was all a hundred times easier. I even sat and read part of a story. The book was one I should have read at the cottage, because when I finally started it this week, I realized how fabulous it was (will blog about it later, I hope), and then realized it was due (yesterday), and someone else had a hold on it, meaning it had to be returned (I have a thing about avoiding library fines). Isn’t that just the greatest gift?
Oh, and I’m still smiling!
Hillside Festival, aka Soak-a-palooza 2009
Day one: swimming “at your own risk,” hiding out from a brief rainstorm by the bicycle lock-up, Mapleton’s ice cream, good advance packing and planning, sharing rice and curry with Albus, and grilled corn on the cob with CJ, huge slices of watermelon, conversations with friends, kids on a self-propelled wooden merry-go-round, yoga in the kids’ tent, wandering around with Albus while getting CJ for his nap in the backpack, leaving while everyone was still in a fine mood. Bands we saw? Uh. A smidgen of Julie Doiron, a hint of Hey Rosetta, and anyone who was at the main stage as we wandered by. Best moment: walking off the island, past the bay, on the trail, with Buffy Sainte-Marie singing us home.
Day two: uh oh, huge thunderstorm delays our departure, but looks on the radar like it will blow over; wait in long line-up for parking due to mud pits at the lot entrances; walk an extra half kilometre to the ticket booth; swim briefly; head immediately for food tent, argue over how much food everyone should be hungry for given that we’ve just eaten a picnic lunch in the car; decide to try to watch the band at the main stage, sit on blanket, relax, notice we have over our heads a patch of gorgeous hot blue sky which is surrounded on all sides by ominous looming dark clouds; sense arrival of rain, pack in the blanket, gear up, hit the ice cream stand just as skies open; thunderstorm, fierce winds, seriously everything shuts down, occasional drenched festival-goer runs by barefoot, everyone else huddled under tents or umbrellas; crack of thunder combined with lightening that sounds like we’ve been hit–CJ continues destroying banana ice cream cone with deep contentment; storm passes but rain continues, children complaining of cold, head for hot chocolate; storm returns, take shelter inside island stage tent where Montreal band Clues decimates our collective eardrums, children now complaining of cold and pressing hands to ears; CJ sleeps through; head for kids’ craft tent; then supper; then stop to dance to band on main stage; multiple trips to porta-potties with various children; still raining; start walking home; reach car in lot–sunshine! Though it’s storming again now as I write this … Best moment: that crack of thunder/lightening. It was so surreal, so extreme, and the kids were so extraordinarily content and calm as they licked their ice cream cones in our narrow shelter. Wish I’d gotten photos, but had hands enough only to hold umbrella, napkins, and periodically retrieve CJ’s fallen ball of ice cream.
Fruit for later
This has been a slow growing season due to lack of sunshine and heat, and excess moisture, and I’ve also been slow to preserve this year: usually, I’m hot out of the gates with rhubarb and strawberries (asparagus is something I prefer to eat fresh). In any case, this year there still remained bags of last year’s rhubarb and a half dozen containers of strawberry freezer jam, which seemed like enough, so we just ate and enjoyed the fruit raw. We’ve done the same with cherries, absolutely gorging on the fresh and sweet, choosing not to pit and put any of these away either. But here we have the first real preserving effort … and what ease it was, the fruit purchased at Nina’s buying club, carted home in the stroller, and put up after supper: four litres of blueberries (minus those snacked upon), measured out in two-cup amounts, and a pile of apricots, pitted and thrown into bags, now lining the floor of our freezer.Last winter, I regretted not putting away a few blueberries for smoothies and general snacking and muffin-additions; and I greatly appreciated the few bags of apricots, frozen in exactly the same simple manner (raw; no sugar added), which were preserved without forethought only because I’d bought too many and they were going bad on the counter. Who could have guessed they would taste so amazingly tart and tangy stewed up and served over hot breakfast cereal? CJ loved them too.
Everything I plan to put up this year follows this theme: easy, and wanted.
More Less-Stress Tea, Por Favor
Alright, I’ll admit it, we’ve been bored. What am I doing wrong here? We have the scheduled activities, the swim lessons that eat up the better part of the morning, with bike riding and snacks included. And this afternoon we have the playdates to coincide with naptime. We have the free play, open permission to upturn chairs and couch cushions, to layer blankets, to strew about toys. We have library books. We have siblings. We have bread baking mornings and cookie baking afternoons. We have an enviable backyard. We have day trips planned and accomplished. And yet, and yet … We have back-talking, complaints about the service and the food, we have biting and kicking and general restless rolling about, we have nagging and ignoring and tears. I wonder how homeschoolers manage this. In theory, I’m all for a bit of necessary boredom. In theory, it should push us toward creative solutions; and sometimes does nudge the children toward playing together, and making up their own games; but just as often, in practice, boredom seems to breed conflict. It’s like, with nothing better to occupy the human mind, inventing some trouble is a satisfying interim solution. I see this played out in miniature all day long, and frankly, it grows a little tiresome. Can’t we all just get along? I ask. And am treated to, at best, blank stares, and at worst, piercing moans of misery, wails of “it’s not fair.”On a separate but not unrelated note, in reflecting on our recent family “holiday,” I’d like to use my friend Marnie’s rather brilliant phrase: such adventures shouldn’t so much be called family holidays, as family “experiences.” Yup. That about sums it up. “Holiday” is a word overloaded with expectations, none of which are remotely fulfillable with four children in tow. (Relaxing, rejuvenating, restful … uh, no, no, and no). “Experience” on the other hand … now that’s the truth! And it’s not a bad thing, either, the family experience, especially when it’s not trying to be something it’s not. Our recent family experience was all the things you might expect it to be: busy, rife with detours, noisy, active, mosquito-bitten, containing mysterious ailments, brief respites, good food, necessary disciplinary tactics, all in all a touch of the arduous and a touch more of ardour. Good times.
I’ve been writing this whilst overseeing two playdates, ear to the naptime baby monitor, bread baking in the oven, and my interruptions have included: tossing snacks at hungry children, sandbox mediation, and a young man in construction garb at the front door to inform me our water will be shut off for the better part of tomorrow and Friday.
Thank goodness for this cup of “Less-Stress Tea” (courtesy Homestead Herbals at Little City Farm, via Nina’s buying club).