Go: Everybody!

Posted on 11/5/2009 by cheesefairy

It’s November. Did you know that? I only know because the calendar features largely in our day; Trombone is always asking what day it is, what month it is, is it time to go Trick or Treating again, is it time to change the monkey yet?

Our wall calendar is a sock monkey calendar, you see. So every month there is a different monkey.

I kind of like: “Is it time for a new monkey?” as a random question that you might hear around our house. Not that we don’t have plenty of random questions for the overhearing.

Anyway, it’s November which means:

– Mister Dymund’s birthday
– Tom Waits in my head for a whole month
– The tree outside my living room window sheds its leaves.

and also for those of creative persuasions:

– National Novel Writing Month
– National Blog Posting Month

Oh it’s official all right. Don’t you scorn it.

All these people whose writing I love who rarely post are now posting every day and like a greedy, greedy piggo, I am lapping it all up.

  • NoPantsIsland is writing a November novel and working on some other writing and posting the contents of her fascinating head every day.
  • Monkeypants is working something like 17 jobs and taking transit and posting her hilarious and beautiful observations every day.
  • GeckoBloggle is growing a moustache and cycling really far and raising children and going to work and posting the best stream-of-how’s-yer-computer-doing-I-love-stuff-and-hate-other-stuff every day.
  • Elswhere is working for a more literate society and raising her circus girl and has a cold right now but is still posting her very funny and often poignant thoughts every day.
  • Schmutzie, who is hardly a slouch in the posting department anyway, is posting every day, writing a novel, running grace in small things, not smoking, writing at Mamapop, participating in Mondo Beyondo and for all I know fixing old motorcycles in her spare time.
  • And of course my own Saint Aardvark has posted every day he’s been away, which is nice because talking on the phone is not for us and also he is a fantastic, vastly under-appreciated writer. Living under my shadow as he does (TIC) (that’s for tongue-in-cheek, I’m coining it). He will probably stop posting every day when he gets home because the children will require his attention, so enjoy him while you can.

You people are amazing. Go on with your bad selves.

(What amazing thing are you doing? It can be anything. I would love to cheer you on. Leave a comment & let us know!)

This post brought to you by the cup of coffee I have consumed while the children continue sleeping well past their usual wake up time of 5:45 am. Coffee and morning solitude? I haz not had since 2005, I’m pretty sure.

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How to Exercise

Posted on 11/4/2009 by cheesefairy

Everyone needs exercise, right? I know I do. I feel better when I move my body. But how on earth do you fit it in? I have gone on about this at length. Maybe it’s just that I don’t prioritize. After all, I could be exercising right now, right? But am I? No, I am sitting at a computer, writing about it.

I need there to be two more hours in every day. That’s all. Simple. Someone make this happen.

Anyway, we are on day five of single parenting. Days one and two were pretty good because there was Halloween and my parents were around and there was a lot of coffee and sunshine. Yesterday was good too, as I mentioned, but day three, Monday, was pretty awful because I had no plan. I had no plan for what to do with the kids in the morning and they got up really early so there was a lot of morning and no plan. That’s bad math. Also it rained.

I decided today we would go to the swimming pool.

The swimming pool is two blocks away. I have never by myself taken both children to the pool because neither of them can swim so I have to pay very close attention to them in the pool (it is a 4 foot deep kiddie pool so Trombone walks around in it) and wouldn’t be able to stare at the people on exercise bikes and treadmills like I like to do. But it is cold outside and the children need exercise, more exercise than your average golden retriever / border collie cross, so I decided we would go to the swimming pool. Now, since I am immobilized from exertion, here is my Take Two Kids to the Pool Exercise Regime.

Warm Up

Pack the bag. (10 minutes)

You find towels and fold them and stuff them in the backpack and then the baby takes them out. Underwear goes in. Underwear comes out. Repeat.

Dress the children for outside. (15 minutes)

This includes the Bathroom Discussion (do I have to go / is there a bathroom at the pool / can I pee in the pool / can you put some “smell” in the bathroom / no I’m not done yet / no I haven’t washed my hands yet / now I’m throwing a fit about you rushing me STOP RUSHING ME) and the baby putting on his brother’s boots and then losing them under the couch and then dumping the cat’s water all over the floor.

Walk to the pool. (5 minutes)

Get suits on. (10 minutes)

Yours is already on because you put it on at the house while the children were distracted by putting the duck puppet in the potty. Older child can take off his own clothes and put on trunks. Younger child is in swim diaper but resists standing on cold change room floor, so hops about like a possessed thing and tries to get out the door, which you have locked.

You have locked it, right?

While you check lock, older child is turning on the shower even though he hates showers because they get his hair wet. His hair gets wet and he freaks out. Younger child scurries over to see what’s happening, also gets wet, starts screaming then slips on the floor.

Stuff clothes in backpack, jackets and shoes in the buggy, unlock door, carry screaming, wet children to pool while pushing buggy with usefully protruding belly.

Now it’s time to start that workout!

Get in the pool! (45 minutes)

Carry younger child all over the pool. Jump him up and down in the water so he will stop putting his hand down your suit and grabbing your breast. Float him on his tummy. Seat him on the step so he can play with the many, many toys, then scoop him up quickly as he tries to walk away and gets a lungful.

Give older child piggyback ride. Play shark. Carry one child under each arm and run from one end of the pool to the other. Smile at old men who are watching from nearby hot tub. Sit on pool floor and balance younger child on your lap. Spend three minutes underwater while older child tries to climb on your lap too. Younger child is climbing out of the pool, pull him back. Line up both children at the pool’s edge and make them jump for five minutes while you shake water out of your ears. Stare longingly at women with very small babies who are just sitting there, having conversations with each other while the babies drool.

Get out of the pool! (10 minutes)

Break the bad new to the older child about leaving the pool, while holding fast to younger child who is, at that very moment, trying to get out of the pool and has forgotten he does not know how to swim. Give older child five minute warning. Take younger child out at one end of the pool while older child insists on climbing out at the other end. Wrap self and younger child in towels. Make menacing faces at older child who has decided to go to the other end of the facility to look at the green slide because Daddy always lets him look at the green slide. Run after him but not really running because no running poolside. Pray he does not fall in the deep end or the hot tub. Ignore that he is wailing while you drag him back to the change room.

Cool down

Get dried off and dressed. (15 minutes)

Dress self first. Remove younger child from the bench where he is standing, reaching for the lock on the changeroom door. Attempt to apply diaper to younger child while he refuses to lie down. Say, loudly, “What the hell is your problem” and then remember there are other people in the changeroom. Tell older child you will get a snack when you get outside. Explain, at length, what each of the words in that sentence means. Feel prepared to deliver a thesis defense in the area of “You Will Get a Snack When We Get Outside.”

Use the bathroom. (10 minutes)

Because swimming makes you have to pee. Both children and the buggy in the big bathroom. Button that opens the door is low enough for younger child to press. Take him in the stall. He hands you several shredded pieces of toilet paper. Make older child pee too. Everyone washes hands.

Walk home. (30 minutes if you go via the grocery store and then stop in the playground so the children can eat wood chips and spin on the spinny thing).

Have a snack – have a drink – have half a bag of Halloween candy – you’ve earned it!

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Free Coffee! Free Snack! No Strings!

Posted on 11/3/2009 by cheesefairy

Our neighbours, the ones with the little girl who is halfway between my two kids’ ages, have been raving about StrongStart to me for months now. It’s a Provincially funded program for children aged 0-5 years old, it’s free to attend and according to my neighbours, it is this magical land full of toys and education and free, did they mention free?

So I looked it up, which was easy because I have had a pamphlet magneted to the fridge for months. The woman who gave it to me was really obnoxious; she wouldn’t shut up about the importance of Early Childhood Education and then she asked me about the preschool I chose for Trombone and told me I should have chosen a different one, so I was not inclined to go, but also I am bad at throwing pamphlets away. Anyway, there are two StrongStart programs in the Mizzle; one across the bridge where the obnoxious lady works and one fairly close to us that runs every day from 9 am – 12 pm. You can drop in whenever you want and leave whenever you want.

Today after we dropped Trombone at preschool, instead of going to the mall or wandering around another random neighbourhood, Fresco and I went to the StrongStart program. And now I want to rave about how awesome it is.

First it made Fresco’s day because there were stairs to the portable trailer where the program takes place and he got to climb them. Usually when he starts climbing a flight of stairs I have to retrieve him and it gets ugly.

Incidentally, this was also the highlight of Halloween for Fresco. At the last minute we decided to take him trick or treating too, even though he only has 5.5 teeth and I think it’s dumb to take babies trick or treating (but you know I am a grinchy mcGrincherson when it comes to Halloween anyway so) and while Trombone took quite quickly to the ritual of greeting / candy / thanks / next house! / OMG MORE CANDY RU SERIUS?, Fresco’s appreciation was reserved for the amount of trespassing on ordinarily forbidden porches he was allowed to do.

That’s pretty much it for Fresco. Let him climb your stairs and he is in love with you now.

The facilitator greeted us and told me that at the moment it was free play time but that at 10:15 they would be cleaning up and having snack and she would be providing the snack and oh, there’s coffee on over there, go help yourself.

That’s pretty much it for me. I am in love with you now.

I got some coffee and watched Fresco run around the room, which was impeccably set up with a big play mat full of blocks and bricks and dinosaurs, a kitchen and dress up corner, a table with a craft involving coffee filters cut out into leaf shapes and eye droppers full of coloured water to stain them with. There was a library corner with books and pillows, a craft table for older kids where a group of moms with infants were making bead necklaces, a paint easel with FIVE colours of paint on each side (even Trombone’s preschool limits the paint to 2 pots per side) and little child-sized sinks for washing hands. There was play dough and pom poms for gluing and a doll house and a few baby dolls that all had different skin colours. One little girl had one doll in a doll stroller and another doll in a baby carrier on her back and was walking around the room nattering on about the shopping she was doing.

We cleaned up at clean up time and then all the children sat at the tables and waited quietly. One very friendly little girl informed me that we would do “Roly Poly” and say thank you for our snack and we did. Then she told me that my baby was very cute, much cuter than her baby. The facilitator brought out orange and apple slices, rice crackers, goldfish shaped crackers, arrowroot cookies and poured water for everyone. Fresco just sat there like a well behaved little kid and ate his food and drank his water.

After snack they were going to play in the school gymnasium but we opted to leave and go pick up Trombone. The facilitator said she usually does circle time and songs and books too but she is getting over a sickness and decided to skip it. Today there were about 15 kids there but she said it was a slow day; sometimes they have twice as many. On a rainy day in the middle of winter, yeah, I could see that. Let’s give our house a rest and go make a mess somewhere else, my sweet, crazy children.

As the days get colder and wetter and darker, it’s nice to have another resource that doesn’t cost a lot, where Fresco can’t hurt himself, where both children could amuse themselves without my sweating like a racehorse trying to keep them both in sight. And the fact that there are sinks and soap makes me feel better about going there than to my other indoor haunts; the library, the drop in gymnasium, the mall.

I mean, yeah, those places have sinks but have you ever tried to wrestle two children into a mall bathroom sink and actually get their hands clean? Without either of them drowning or licking the puddles on the counter? Because I fail at this, I’m not ashamed to say.

They’re all over BC, the StrongStarts. You can see a list of schools that have them here. (According to the government bafflegab, the program fulfils part of a throne speech commitment to using underused school spaces due to declining enrolment. I don’t know anything about this issue. I don’t trust the government. But I like the StrongStart, so far.)

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Responsible

Posted on 10/30/2009 by cheesefairy

In 24 hours, I will be the sole parent in this house. Saint Aardvark is going away for a week and I will be outnumbered by children.

If you break it down, of course, I am usually outnumbered by children. From 7 am till 6 pm, Monday to Friday, I am the sole parent. The addition of bedtime routines and possibly very early starts to the day (I usually get to sleep in until 6:15 while SA gets up at WhateverTheHellYouCallThis o-clock with one or both children) will hardly bestow on me so much more responsibility than usual.

Just now I was washing some dishes. The dishwasher is fine but sometimes I wash a few by hand, mostly because it warms up my hands. I washed some plates and some cups and I was going to leave the pots by the sink because I like to wash dishes in shifts; a few plates, a few cups, a pot. Take a break. And I guess part of my brain was thinking I would leave it for SA to wash.

Yeah, let’s be honest, that’s what that part of my brain was thinking. Then the other part of my brain spoke up. Said, oh no you don’t. He’s not going to be here for a week. You gonna leave that pot by the sink for a week?

Obviously not because I would need to use the pot before the week is up, right? But still. The job of Saint Aardvark around the house is as subtle, in ways, as mine. You know how you get in a rhythm with someone you live with. You don’t question where the garbage goes; it just does. He doesn’t question where the chips come from; they’re just there.

These are the things he does that I can think of offhand:

– brings up wine from our storage room
– takes the bottles back down
– empties the recycling and the garbage
– keeps the fridge clear of old, mouldy items
– actually dumps these items out and washes the containers, instead of just taking them out of the fridge and leaving them on the counter, which is what I would do, which is why I generally just leave them in the fridge
– grinds coffee every night
– puts my coffee on every morning and pours it for me
– makes bread
– keeps the computers running
– feeds the cat

and that’s before you even get to the children, whose diapers he is intimately involved with and to whom he reads endless stories, often with earplugs in so that he is not shattered by the exuberance of our younger child who LOVES TRAINS SQUEEEE.

Holy cats.

So I was standing at the sink, washing pots and I thought, what if one of the children gets sick this week, while he’s away. What if the child is really sick and I have to make a decision, on my own, about what to do. How horrible will that be. How stressful. Just me, in the dark, with this sick child, no second opinions.

Sure, lots of people think about these things before they even decide to have children. Not me.

It is in those small moments, hands in the suds, lump in the throat, paralyzed, that you realize how entwined you are, really, with another person. How many little gaps he fills for you, so that without him you would more closely resemble Swiss cheese than a human being.

( Baltimore, you better be nice to my SA and send him back happy and healthy. Also, he really doesn’t need too many more t-shirts with obscure geek sayings on them.)

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This Is An Experiment

Posted on 10/29/2009 by cheesefairy

An average reader-type person could read novels and short stories in a moderate quantity, say one novel per week, for her entire life, say 88 years, and, I believe, still not come across every single idea she’s ever had.

I am reading a novel right now, a brilliant novel called The Center of Winter, and the plot is similar to a novel I started writing once but not similar enough that I am in any way deterred from going back to finish my own story, someday.

In this way, a reader / writer-type person can convince herself that the ideas she has had, has yet to have, or, mostly, has yet to express, are interesting, unique, full of possibility. In the world of print fiction, that is.

Now the Internet. The Internet is as full of ideas as this entry is full of commas. It is possible, in one day exploring the Internet, to come across every idea you have ever had. Other people have had them, those ideas; the fully formed ones, the barely gestated ones, the ones you had at 3 am last week and didn’t write down. Other people are writing down their ideas and their thoughts and their idle chatter. And you can pull them up, out of the ether, on to your screen, in seconds.

Which is so demoralizing. And enlightening. And wonderful, if you are into collaboration and community. And horrible, if you are sick to death of seeing your own dull bafflegab on the screen.

Sometimes it feels like I used up my whole box of ideas (The Idea Factory shipped everyone a box a few years ago) and now it seems they’re out of business and won’t answer my emails.

(They’ve got this giant warehouse in Nowhere, America; someone is still paying rent on it but there’s only one woman there, sitting at the front desk, smoking cigarettes and playing solitaire, with real playing cards, while the emails flood in from all over the world. Every time the computer retrieves a piece of mail, it makes an old-fashioned beep and she flinches but she never looks up. Or turns the computer off. Someone is paying her, but she won’t say who.)

But, says me, what is important, after all, is that your expression of an idea, whatever the idea, is unique and interesting.

After all, there is nothing new under the sun.

(I did not come up with that phrase.)

I want to feel inspired. I do not feel inspired. I want to write stuff here that I would enjoy reading if I wasn’t me. Currently, this is not the case. I feel like I am filling space, taking up valuable internet idea space with snake-chasing-dog-chasing-snake bullshit that even I remember writing before. So in that way, it is like a paper journal.

And yet.

It’s wet. The leaves are wet. They are yellow and red and brown and wet. It’s dark. I want to sleep all the time. Maybe I am a bear.

If I was a bear, I would stand hip-deep in water all day and catch fish with my giant paw. I would spear the fast flowing salmon with a huge claw and then slam that fish in my mouth so fast it would still be alive and wriggling all the way down to my empty bear stomach. My fur would drip and my eyes would shine and I would occasionally lean my head back and bellow at the sky.

I might almost lose my balance, that’s how far back I would lean my head. So far back my neck would be exposed to predators but let’s face it, who is my predator if I’m a bear. I own this forest.

Rawr. RAWR.

I was going to do the boring thing and quit blogging. You’ve read it and I’ve said it before – it’s a noose, an albatross, a choke chain, a poorly placed trap door; it stares at me with its baleful eyes every time I walk past it to do something else.

But. I think I won’t. Not just yet. I own this forest.

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