to readers, with love

Tonight I want to thank all of you for actually reading this and sticking with it, even though it isn't quite the mama-friend resource center/support group I originally had planned. It's nothing that useful; just another stay-at-home mama blog all about yours truly and the little ones. I've joined the legions of ladies chatting about life on the homefront and I must admit, it's pretty fun.
This little project has had unanticipated consequences, for which I am deeply grateful. (Here is where you come in.) After 18 months of stay-at-home living, most of it done in a new town where I am relatively unknown outside my roles as wife and mother, I'm afraid my confidence was beginning to crumble. I suspect this is fairly typical for others in my position, but its universality doesn't lessen the sting: it was hard to remember if I was good at things besides getting plastic barrettes to stay in place and executing stand-up diaper changes. We would go to dinner parties and I felt I had nothing to contribute. I felt exposed without my kids, or without the ability to talk about them. I used to be interesting, I swear! Invite me over in a few years, I'll tell charming anecdotes that do not rely on the zany antics of preschoolers, I promise!
Strangely enough, writing about the zany antics of preschoolers has helped enormously to quell this fear that there is a vacuum where my adult self with all its capabilities and agency used to be. Turns out I'm still here. Sharing some of the bits of my daily life with all of you has reminded me of that - and the support, kindness and enthusiasm you've expressed for this funny little family journal has helped shore up some of my crumbling confidence. Writing itself is a restorative pleasure I had forgotten about. But the love and kindness this thing has generated have buoyed me up, up, up to a place where I can look all around and feel sincere gratitude for this time with my children. Yeah, yeah, I complain a lot about the limits of my life now, but your responses have helped me see through all the junk to what's real and true.
Thank you, thank you.

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.!