Writing together (December)

Squeaking in under the wire again and I can tell that to be truly successful at this project I'd be better off writing daily than holding myself to the low, low bar of once a month. 

Went "home" for Christmas – a relatively low-key affair but with lots of family time, which was nice, and no travel shenanigans, which was nicer. The kiddo did so well at the airport and in the air, although carsickness has raised its ugly head again and so the trips to and fro were not entirely without complications. At least now I know to be prepared; I carry extra outfits, have learned how to stop my sympathetic gag reflex, and preach the gospel of the 4L ziptop bag to anyone who will listen. 

We met friends at the beach today. Brought lunch to share, watched the kids dig in the sand, tried to balance our delight at the unseasonable 12C temperatures with our horror at the unseasonable 12C temperatures. There were dogs running, and people swimming. I considered wading and then thought again; the water at that beach is cold enough to make me gasp even on the hottest August day. The afternoon was spent cleaning – that new year's clean sweep tradition that I hew to more closely as the years go by. 

I'm still thinking about ways to work more play into my days, perhaps especially this week as I consider what I want to add in 2023. More play, more joy, more rest; that's the goal. 

Part of that is a new layout for my bedroom-cum-office-cum-craft space, because losing my office to the "big girl" bedroom has meant that my sewing machine, ball winder and swift, spinning wheel, and various other craft supplies got put away. Out of sight, out of mind, out of practice – I'm suffering for the lack of a craft practice right now, but haven't quite figured out how I'll re-engage.

Anyway. Only 2 hours left of 2022, and then we'll be tipped headlong into another year. Here's to a year that brings us sweetness and light, more time with dear friends, and – dare I say it? – an opportunity for rest. 

Writing together: October(ish) 2022

October seems to have disappeared in an instant. I had every good intention to make my (self-imposed) October 30 posting deadline (even gave myself a buffer day in there) but, well. Life gets in the way, I guess.

Our month was busy. Thanksgiving weekend saw a trip to stay with friends at their cottage – a nice escape that included a turkey dinner, lots of time outside at the beach in spite of chilly fingers and windburned cheeks, and, unfortunately, a return of the wee one's carsickness. This might just be a thing for us for a while now. She blames the "wibbly wobbly" roads and I apologize that she's having a bad timey-wimey of it in the back seat, and then we deploy endless paper towels and wipes and change her clothes on the shoulder of the two-lane highway and shove it all into a massive ziplock bag and hope for the best. One day she'll get the joke. Hopefully by then she'll either have outgrown the carsickness or I'll have laid my hands on a TARDIS.

I didn't actually come here to write about carsickness. Or Doctor Who.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, we had a visit from one of my closest friends and her two sons, both under 10, both bundles of energy, both idolized by Georgia, who appreciated their attention and willingness to let her drive the train she loves to make with all the kitchen chairs. That girl loves to holler "ALL ABOARD!!" They were here for a few days and we did some tourist things (Peggy's Cove, Halifax waterfront) and some local things (packed a snack of apples and boiled eggs to watch the surfers at the beach on a blustery Sunday morning). The kids loved searching for sea glass and throwing dead crabs around and generally giving the adults a run for our money. The adults tried to hang out after bedtime and could barely stay awake.

And then...then what? The rest of the month passed in a blur and I can barely recall it even when I look at my calendar for clues. We've been sick again and again since September (that's life when you have a toddler in daycare) and so what I wish was a joke about time disappearing as though in a fever dream is actually somewhat true. At some point we both had C-19 shots (second for her, fourth for me) and flu shots; at some point I ate dinner on a boat and she ate chicken nuggets on the couch at a friend's house. (She had more fun.)(Obviously.) Isn't it something when your social engagements are outnumbered four-to-one by appointments for immunizations? Life in 2022.

(But that can't be entirely true! We had friends over for cupcake decorating and an impromptu spaghetti night. They returned the hospitality with a pumpkin painting party. I've gone for coffee. We've eaten sushi.  She went to school wearing a pair of pants as a hat. Good things happen.)

She dressed as a witch for Halloween. This involved a selection of hand-me-downs and a $2.99 hat from Toys'R'Us. I tied some sticks (windfall from September's hurricane) together to make a broom and coloured a takeout chopstick black to fashion a wand, which I adorned with some foam stars salvaged from some daycare "art." She turned me into a frog. Repeatedly. She was highly skeptical of trick-of-treating at the first house, very excited about it by the 14th house, and started falling down every three steps after the 15th house. Night over, we came home.

Turned out she had RSV and spent the next two days home from school with a raging fever. I worked part time while she watched Peppa Pig on the bed in the background of my Zoom calls. I ate all her candy. She didn't miss it.

And so it goes. This is a season of life (turn turn turn) and my big skill right now is KEEPING GOING. (Not that you'd notice by the posting of a single blog post and then nothing for over a month.) If I've learned anything over the last three years, though, it's that I can keep.going. Head down, one foot in front of the other, it doesn't look pretty but it gets the job done, keep going, keep going, keep going. There's food on the table and gas in the tank and the clothes are clean though the shoes are mismatched. Keep going. Sometimes the load lightens a bit – fantastic. An extra meal gets made for the freezer, the tub gets a thorough scrub, I manage a row or two on the sweater I'm making her. Keep going.

See you soon.

(I didn't intend for this to be a blog about My Life with Kid but it turns out that......that's probably what it's going to be. That's what my life IS now. Won't be always. Maybe this will help me remember some of it, because god knows I've already forgotten a lot of it. Thanks for reading.)

Writing together: September 2022

People keep exhorting me to "fill my cup." I laugh with a friend: "Fill my cup? Where IS my cup? What am I supposed to put in it, again?" It's under the couch, we joke, full of Duplo and dust. 

I think of my daughter, now two, banging HER cup on the table and chanting "Milk, milk, MILK." She knows what she likes, we've always said. And she's not afraid to tell you all about it.

Things I worried about before becoming a solo parent: not having any time to myself, managing to shovel snow with a newborn in tow, being able to knit while she napped.

Things I didn't consider: the possibility of a pandemic, that it was possible I wouldn't be alone for 51 weeks entire, how it would feel to somehow forget what I like, because every spare minute and dollar and thought seems to go toward the practicalities of everyday life: she needs new pyjamas, will last winter's boots still fit, what's for dinner, are we out of bananas, somehow, again?

What fills my cup? Making things. Time with friends. Time alone. Time to write. (Time – never enough!) That's my project, then, this year. Somehow finding time for those things in between the work deadlines and the endless snacks and the lost socks, the Duplos and the dust.