homemade time

The scene: our utterly chaotic pre-dinner kitchen, Gabriel doing laps around our first floor carrying an enormous plastic piece of a toy kitchen, saying "HEAVY... HEAVY!" to indicate that he can barely lift the thing, Frances telling me all about how in this doctor's office you can have more than one appointment and now she's fixed the ear infection so what ELSE is wrong with your baby today - when suddenly she is struck with hunger and the following exchange ensues.

Frances: How many minutes until dinner, Mama?
M: About twenty.
F: Oh no! But that is so long! (runs away to the living room. runs right back.)
Mama! Do you know how you can make homemade time? Homemade twenty minutes?
M: Why, no, I don't know how to make homemade time.
F: You just count to sixty twenty times in a row! Then you've made homemade twenty minutes! (rushes off to sit in her chair at the dining room table; begins to count).

My dear daughter! Thinking she can take charge of time. If only. But I love this idea; so much so I'm considering renaming the blog. I love that for her the way to take charge of - to put her own special stamp on - bread or a Halloween costume is for it to be homemade, so why not apply the same principle to time?

We think a lot about creating a homemade space to live in, homemade food to eat, homemade (or rather homegrown) plants and vegetables and herbs to surround us and nurture us... what does it mean to create homemade time? Apropos of Amelia's latest post, and a talk with Cameron last night about waiting for children to get old enough to hike, or to read quietly by themselves ... and also the feeling I had today on the way to school (Gabriel screaming in his car seat and Frances faux screaming so she wouldn't feel left out) - the feeling that I simply would never make it until bedtime - you are getting the idea. The character of time has changed since having children. Long days, short years. Isn't that what Grandmother Presler used to say?

There is a certain blur-like quality that seems unavoidable in time spent parenting small children. But I don't want to lose it, either, even though I have been near tears wishing for time to pass a little more briskly. I have also often felt a certain frantic grasping at time, during those extraordinary bursts of in-the-moment joy so acute they hurt. They hurt because they are slipping away even as they are realized, like so many brilliant golden paw paw leaves, now curled up and brown on our lawn.

So I get it, kid. I would like to sit down and count to sixty with you at the dining room table, in the middle of all this mess and lunacy.

I am going to keep thinking about homemade time, and what that means for me and my family. I think perhaps it might have to do with those rare times when I'm able to let go of my agenda and experience time with my children, to encounter the world alongside them, at their pace. Like walking today with Gabriel, stopping to touch the fuzzy tall grass and to admire the green pickup truck and to wave goodbye to the bushy orange mums in a neighbor's yard. A seven minute walk took thirty minutes, but so what? Where did I have to be just then? Nowhere but with him.

two little speckled frogs

And now for a lighter-hearted post. You do need to see a little bit of Halloween, right?



Trick or treating is AWESOME, even in the rain, even with a persistent ear infection.









This spider was/is the most beloved item in Gabriel's haul.



Candy makes us happy. I decreed the family-wide rule: two pieces per day. Eat them whenever you want. (In Frances' case, that's by 7:30 am every morning). Don't tell anyone, but I'm afraid this mama broke her own rule within hours of making it.

gender, continued

I have tried responding to Amelia twice and somehow my comment disappears! I have apparently figured out how to post but not how to comment. Very frustrating. Also embarrassing. So I will comment here, on a new post:

First, I had no idea that concerns about gender equity were part of why Michael hesitated to have children. (Hard to believe we haven’t talked about this more in the past). I have always envied you your shared job, and admired that it wasn’t just about ‘having more time for the kids’ but also about having more time for other projects, for flexibility, for yourselves and each other – and now I also get how it helps ensure equal status, at least in the eyes of the world and in terms of your paycheck. It seems an ideal starting place if equity is the goal, though I imagine even so negotiation about who does what and how is required.
Speaking of negotiation. Because of the nature of Mike’s job, how it expands and contracts and is ever-present, we aren’t able to come up with rules about who does what to ensure a balance. (Rules can be dumb anyway). That means we need to communicate regularly about these things, and communication of that sort requires time and energy, two things young children sap with a relentless ferocity the likes of which I’d never encountered before they arrived.
But even more than the confines of work life right now, I think the thing that demands negotiation is what you refer to in part 2. We figured out before the kids that gender equity cannot mean splitting everything down the middle, 50/50, because we are different. We have different strengths and desires and we simply would not enjoy our lives as much – we would not flourish - if such a structure were enforced. Truth be told, I desire to care for the children more than Mike does. I want to make papier mache maracas and fall trees. I love cooking. He loves gardening. I prioritize a clean bathroom. He doesn’t mind folding laundry. But put a little stress on the system (too much work, an ear infection) and we get into our own gender-associated ghettos that can lead us to bad places, unless we actually talk about it.
It seems like a goal might be to live day to day life as equal partners. A partnership of equals, wherein both people feel free to express discontent, free to ask for change, able to listen, able to adapt.
I do miss sharing domestic tasks, the way we did before children. This seems a major loss to me. Now we must divide and conquer, or at least divide and do an okay job. Perhaps when the children are older we’ll be able to cook together again.
Now I’m off to work on my resume. ! I’ve decided to try to market myself as a freelance writer and editor for non-profits and NGOs around here – a way to stay connected to the things I am passionate about, use some of my skills, and hopefully develop good connections for future work. What do you think?

p.s. HOW WAS PARIS???? Please tell us about what it is like to be away for so long...in the world's most beautiful city, speaking a bit of French, drinking excellent coffee, etc.!

Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's cure for retro gender roles

For those of you that knew me when, you may remember many a conversation - either in the "ding king" '94 Altima, or over red plastic plates long scraped clean of chick peas in a cramped apartment - in which I muddled through problems of gender and power with persistence and perhaps way too much emotion. You know how girls can be.
Ha.
Before we had children, we talked a lot about gender roles and balance and communication. Mike was reading continental philosophy in grad school. I was reading Jane Austen novels over and over and thinking about social work. There was so much to talk about! When I was in grad school, I thought about how policy can address the vulnerability of girls and women. I thought about how men could and should change, and how that change might be facilitated through policy and social programs.
I still think about these things (albeit distractedly). But recently I realized that Mike and I left the more elusive, philosophical conversation about the nature of gender and how it shapes our lives behind; it must have been sometime during Frances' babyhood. Life took over and filled up all the old spaces, leaving much less time and energy for those demanding talks. But I miss them! I miss talking about those things that are deeper and un-legislatable. A mysterious force that leads me to say "sure, of course I can help" or even, "please, what can I do to help?" when I simply have nothing left to give. The inevitable private resentment that follows, the difficulty I have with asking for help and expressing anger.
Perhaps you are wondering what any of this has to do with mothering or my children. Two things happened recently that made me realize I am in dire need of examining gender anew: Edith told me to read Freaky Fortnight, and Frances and I have read a couple of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books. I haven't read all of Freaky Fortnight but what I did knocked something loose for me. Becoming a stay at home mother has showed me that the door leading back to the fifties is definitely still open (I even just painted my kitchen pink!!) and if I slept less and drank more, I can easily imagine heading into an outrageous vision of family life straight out of Madmen. If I didn't pay attention, I'd clean all day and feel low-level unexpressed anger and start squeezing my kids' arms a little too tight on the way out of the grocery store.
Oh, it gives me the shivers! Not just for myself, but for my growing kiddos.
When I worked and Mike stayed home, we glowed with self-congratulation thinking about how Frances had a Papa who fed her lunch and took her to the playground, and how she would be so much more flexible in her own ideas about what men and women do. It was part of what sustained me during that time - I believed what we were doing would be of great benefit both to Mike and Frances. Then Mike got a fabulous demanding job in a weird town, and I happily agreed it was my turn to stay home. But it is different.
In Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, Frances pointed out to me that "it seems like all the mamas in this book stay home and all the papas go to offices!" and also that "the papas are always reading the paper and not helping the kids while the mamas give everyone breakfast!" and suddenly I wanted to shut the book and throw it into the scary buggy part of the basement where no one ever goes. The worst part is that breakfast at our house is not so different. Okay, Mike is MUCH better about not reading the paper during breakfast these days. I made a request. That worked out pretty well.
But what to do about the gender roles in all our favorite books? I have been so looking forward to sharing Louisa May Alcott and Laura Ingalls Wilder ... but now I feel a bit ambivalent. I loved Beth so much in Little Women. It seemed perfect that she died. She gave so much that she DIED. Do I really want to shove this at my own children? Has anyone struggled with this? Beautiful books full of sacrificing women and heroic absent men? Perhaps when I return to work and have something else to model for my kids it won't bother me quite so much.


On another note, here is some Frances-style Halloween. "It's a tiny newborn ghost and a bat who just ate a mosquito, because the mosquito bit the ghost and sucked the ghost's blood. That's why the mosquito is red. And the ghost has a bandaid for the bite. And I don't know who the person is."

And on another, totally unrelated note, here are some little things that I love right now, that perhaps you might love too:
1. My stick blender that we make frozen raspberry-banana-milk smoothies with every day, and also now that it is autumn, soups like this one. So good with a big dollop of yogurt swirled in.
2. Dr. Seuss books. I'm falling in love all over again, except this round is even sweeter because Frances sometimes reads and Gabriel repeats every fifth word she says and he gets very, very excited whenever anyone suggests it might be story time.
3. Getting ready for Halloween with Frances and Gabriel. We make a little bit of their froggy costumes every day out of felt bits. Frances put all the (mostly green) felt scraps into the salad spinner this morning and told us she making some salad. Sabrosa! (Thank you again Dan Zanes for all the new Spanish words in our house).
4. Storynory. Frances had a low fever yesterday and contentedly listened to Natasha read chapters 4 - 7 of Through the Looking Glass. I haven't explored the site much but there are many appealing stories for children, and that Natasha is some reader. Thank you Milena!