Friday, April 2, 2021

Favorite Parts of the Day:

1. Surprise Mama-Isabel time in the morning.  We cuddled like bears, read, played "scream into your mouth", "boo", and "pull the string".  

2. Eating dinner with the babes (Thai Chicken Risotto with roasted green beans)

3. First Irish tune rehearsal with Paul. We definitely hit some good grooves, and Isabel floating through in her shark costume was also hilarious. 

4. Staying inside all day


Least favorite parts of the day:

1. Potential neighbor-teen babysitter backing out

2. Everyone having screaming meltdowns at lunch time. 

3. Leo waking up screaming and thrashing after napping for 30 minutes

4. Bleeding heavily and hormoning heavily all day long. 

5. Staying inside all day. 

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Supper's On

Cooking: meal planning, grocery shopping, prepping...and, what would you call that last stage of turning chopped things, oil and heat into a meal...alchemy?  Magic?  Catharsis?  

These have been my salvation during this year of near complete self dissolution/annihilation.  Luckily, in our weird-but-functional family work hierarchy, it counts as being fully Labor Creditable.  

I have been on Leo's Eczema/Allergy diet since he was tested last May, so must make do without: dairy, wheat, eggs, nuts, sesame, soy, sweet potatoes and avocados.  People ask "What do you eat??" and "What do you miss the most?" and "Why don't you just wean?"

Well, I eat: all grains-mainly oats, rice, and millet.  All veg and fruits (except the Avos and Sweet Potatoes).  And, MEAT.  Way more than I ever have before, more than I'd like and I try hard to stick to organic because otherwise, gross.  Snacking easily is what I miss the most, but as someone who leans too heavily on food as an emotional crutch this is probably a good thing.  And no, I would never choose to trade my son's health and well-being for my transient indulgence of food cravings.  Also I love nursing.  

Logistically, menu planning and actual cooking are pretty vital since most of the usual go-to foods are off the table (cheese, bread, eggs, nuts).  But also, thank goodness, because being forced to really COOK, not just eat a cheese sandwich or fry some eggs has literally saved my hide many times over this year.  

On long, lonely, aggravating days, 10 tantrums deep by 12pm (I was going to say, not mine, but TBH things got pretty ugly around June-November....) it is so deeply satisfying to create (and finish one beautiful thing that is just for me.  Bonus points that it happens to benefit the rest of the fam and masquerades as a selfless act of service.  

I feel like a huge liar actually.  

It would be pretty easy to alternate 5 simple recipes that are quick and fairly healthy.  Instead I spend 30-120 minutes each week poring over cookbooks and the NYT cooking website, searching for new, fun, enticing recipes that will generate a week's worth creative joy.  

Grocery shopping is a different kind of indulgence, 60 minutes + driving time where no-one is asking me any questions, demanding that I get them anything, tugging at my clothes, or beating at my breast (my son is shameless in his requests for nursing).  

But THEN,  haha then,  I've thrown my hat over the fence.  The ingredients are sitting right there in the fridge, demanding to be used lest they rot or mold.  So no matter how tired, unmotivated, or emotionally drained I feel now I HAVE to carve out the time to cook.  It often begins with stolen chunks of time,  sneaking downstairs before anyone wakes up to measure out the dry ingredients or chopping the onion while Leo eats his lunch.  But at some point in the day, the rubber meets the road and its time to tune everyone out and get 'er done.  

There are the occasional strike-outs, but gratifyingly, though my kids snub their noses at most leftovers they will eat almost anything that has been freshly prepared.  Yesterday I sat down to mashed butter beans with sautéed garlic broccoli rabe, corn chips on the side.  Today, I served up my bowl of white rice with tomato-chickpea-spinach stew while the chaos continued to reign around me.  

Deep in the belly of the pandemic, when I had stopped doing massage, stopped playing music, stopped climbing, stopped chatting and laughing with other moms, stopped doing pretty much anything at all for myself, these tokens of love and creativity were secret love missives to my dormant self.  


Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Mommy Blogs

 I guess that's what this is now.  The last month or so (really, since stumbling upon the powerhouse Mama that is Glennon Doyle), I've been craving Mommy Blogs.  Not the ones with lunch box tips, creative craft pinterests, endless lists of product recommendations, and uplifting stories of familial love and gratitude.  

I need to read other Moms talking shit about their own stupid, insane, unbelievably hard/utterly mind-numbing/totally isolating (especially in pandemic blah blah blah) life.  I crave those belly laughs of recognition when the baby is caught playing in his own poop during the 5 minutes you took to take a shower, the validating descriptions of Olympic-level feats that happen unseen and unnoticed on the daily.  Like hauling a kicking, screaming toddler and his plastic grocery cart down the street while pushing the other one in the stroller.  Fitting the toddlers, the cart, and strider + helmet into the wagon while preventing the younger, allergic one from eating the older one's almonds, rescuing the spilled blueberries, and removing the small pinecone from his mouth. 

Yep, I'm looking for a very specific kind of Mommy blog.  I cling to some parenting ideals that often feel just stupid (no sugar, no screens, no punishment) and mostly don't  end up making my life any easier.  And I freaking love my kids, they are beyond brilliant, sweet, hilarious; they are probably my favorite people to hang out with.  

I want to read these blogs (where are they?!?!).  And, as it turns out, it looks like I need to write my own, as well.  

No plan Wednesday

A No Plan Morning....eek!!!   I did my best to surrender to the mind-numbing rhythm after a flurry of desperate, last minute texts to moms and neighbors yielded no fruit.  It helps knowing that busier and more scheduled days are just around the corner: grandparents visiting, playdates--just starting to be a Thing again--soccer, music class).  Such days nearly did me in mid-pandemic, when the delightful spaciousness of Everything Cancelled wore off but before the Alternative, Pandemic Approved plans kicked in.  

Sweet moments that don't happen on those scheduled days are the perk of weathering the stultifying feelings of boredom.  As I stared out the window, Isabel looked at me and said "Mama, what are you doing?"  Then answered her own question, "You're taking care of us".  


Exactly.  


The morning included:  showering (a major trust exercise!/Please don't report me to CPS), and coming out to find the 2 of them playing quietly together on the Living Room floor (whose kids are these??), pumping up the inflatable moose from Aunt Debbie (everyone took a turn), and a 3-block-parade to visit with a neighbor consisting of: massage table-on-a-wagon, Isabel on a strider, Leo pushing a plastic grocery cart.

Then lunch, nursing a very sleepy/sleeping Leo while microwaving Isabel's chicken nuggets.  I'm not quite the mom I thought I'd be, instead I'm so much more.  

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

baby time

people keep asking me if i like being pregnant.  its a weird question, basically asking if i fundamentally accept the changes happening to my body and mind.  why wouldn't i?  even though i miss my old, lithe, body and its ability to perform (rock climbing, biking, getting into whatever position seemed right, etc) i'm not going to actively resist the truth of this present physical form.  its also cool to have a little rumbly buddy rolling around down there, keeping me company.  The mood swings are formidable at times.  not that different from my usual highs and lows but perhaps more noticeable.  As well this weird, nostalgic permeating sadness washes over me at least a couple of times a week.  i imagine some part of me is nostalgically missing this part of my life, my last weeks as a free-form, autonomous being in the world.  many many changes to come.  

Thursday, June 23, 2016

forks and lees

it is so head-trippingly, dizzyingly bizarre to be jolted out of my delightfully magical and deeply satisfying all-encompassing reality and thrust suddenly into the parallel universe of what could have would have been.  i would never trade an instance of this one and yet i can see the simultaneous shimmering beauty of what would have could have been.  and i'm so grateful that no matter where this crazy life path take me, or where i take myself, it is without fail:  deeply satisfying.  intensely challenging. filled with love and laughter and delight and fun and music and food and play.  physical edges. emotional edges.....just a beautiful and irreducible gift.

right now:  pistachio ice cream.  gourmet romantic dinners every night.  and breakfast and lunch.  peels of laughter and sweet faces and rough and tumble and that little cowlick that pops up on those delicate foot switches.  giant thunderstorms and endless bran and every day shocked that this is my life.  and yet and yet and yet.  to find out that in fact it was i that gave up and am giving it up and the confusion of that just won't fit with the beauty of here now bounty.  

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

these days.  long, full, verdant.

yesterday, waking up to the sweetest of sweetnesses.  then ungraciously tossed from the nest.  holy s#$% i have people again, able to flee and blast and kvetch.  back back, learning, appreciating my boss teacher.  failing at getting photographed.  watching a young mom work with tiny kids in tow, pondering.

on a lark because people to southside, revisiting my first home at earth folk.  sweet cozy kitchen, relatively pleasant meeting. then to....the new..... chatting, so close by just 8 blocks.  feeling the house start to wrap around me pleasantly.  definitely no ghosts.  sweet conversation, so easeful so that the words just tumble out of me.  trying to fight the feeling that i'm lying about trying, that i will and always will just be a devious manipulator.  "home" for now to beans and banana smoothie and bed and now up and again, and again, and again.