Hello 2007!
Well it is the resolution season. There was a Xmas beyond chairs, about which I may write, but today I am in the resolution frame of mind.
1. Enjoy the fun in every day. I’m sure it’s possible to live with a toddler and not have fun, but I think it must be hard to do. Living more lightheartedly would also help my creative output. 2006 was a year of adjustment to parenting and fear about doing things “right.” I resolve that 2007 will be a year of finding out how to do things my/our way - that is, a joyous way.
2. Eat better - better being foods close to the earth, and mindfully.
3. My foot is almost healed, so either get back to the gym or start running.
4. Spend some time every week getting in touch/back in touch with friends - not just playdates, but friends.
5. Carve out time for fiction writing, which means hiring a babysitter for the paying gig stuff (at least part of it). I’m already on the case with email out to a few people.
6. Did I mention the fun?
Best of blogs
This expose about chocolate (thanks Sassy!) has to be about the best article I’ve ever read about food and on a blog. It’s made me wish I had the time and intelligence to do that. Definitely worth a read.
And more chairs
So today I returned the chairs to my parents. But we also picked up a complete dining set - 6 real leather parsons chairs and a table that seats 6-10 (two leaves!!) for a very good price that we found on Craigslist. In our budget! The pic is off Craigslist, so that is not my house. But the set is now in my house!
Somehow it seems like the universe balanced that one out. Although I don’t really believe in that; Emily’s death torpedoed the idea of balance. But it’s that feeling that it’s nice to have the right thing come along at the right time.
More chairs
So. Carl and I have for the last… 9… years eaten our meals on $15 fold-down plastic chairs from Ikea. They are still, by the way, in nearly perfect condition. (If not terribly comfortable, although that’s never stopped us.)
Unfortunately, when toddlers try to climb up on them they have a tendency to flip shut, so we have been looking for new chairs. Carl and I have this furniture problem which is that he only likes things we can’t afford and unless I basically force the issue and buy within the budget I’m willing to spend knowing that he doesn’t wholely like whatever (see: $15 chairs, above) we often just… don’t have furniture. I still don’t have a headboard for my bed. And so on.
(Ideally we would haunt auctions and garage sales, but sadly, this is Carl’s version of a nightmare. I’m working on Craigslist.)
So anyways, our chairs are this known issue, especially since, lately if you come to my house all the kitchen chairs are folded up when no one’s sitting on them.
And my parents, as mentioned previously, have been renovating and culling their furniture collection (a good thing). So they offered us a set of chairs. The chairs they offered were chairs we pulled out of someone’s garbage (I remember that!) and my dad refinished and had caned and they represent the best of recycling to me, so I said: great! Would we take that as our Xmas gift? Sure.
Two days ago they called and said they were worried about the caning giving way under little feet (which is a good point, although I think a set of chair cushions would cover that no problem). Okay, actually it went down like this: for three weeks my mother obsessed that the caning was Not! Safe! For! Toddlers! and I just insisted that it was fine.
But two days ago she said “I’d rather give you 5 other* chairs.” And I, distracted (possibly for dissociative reasons, see below), said, “Okay.” I mean - they are all their furniture until the point of giving them right? And anyway, no further excuses, I just said “okay!”
Yesterday they arrived with the chairs. Very lovely carved wooden sturdy dining room chairs.
From my grandfather’s house and upholstered in the reverse fabric from the sodomy chair. (That is orange with brown flecks; these are brown with orange flecks.)
To be fair I should have figured out in advance which chairs they were talking about. I really should have.
I decided not to pitch drama on Christmas Eve, as much for my own peace of mind as anyone else’s. But very soon they will be going back. With a polite but full explanation like: “Thank you for the very lovely gift, but since getting it I’ve had flashbacks of abuse and obsessively worried about Noah, so I think I will return them to you.” (Carl favours burning them, but I think this is better.)
But it’s the caning that was dangerous. Gavin De Becker says in Protecting the Gift that when parents obsessively worry about one danger they often miss another. I think this kind of explains a lot of my mother’s behaviour, except with a slightly darker spin on it. She has to continually keep things like this in my face because it allows her to subconsciously be off the hook that the abuse had any lingering effects or anything like that.
And yes, it’s so tempting to confront her with it (and I think I quietly will, as framed above). But the thing is that my mother is getting old, and she hasn’t changed yet. I wish in my child-heart concerned with fairness that she would Pay! Pay! Pay! for her insensitivity and other things. But in my adult mind I have chosen to try instead to accept her up to the point that it actively hurts me.
Of course this is one of those lines. Sigh.
* I could have figured out which ones she meant, probably, but you have to understand that my parents have more furniture than house - enough that at times some rooms have felt like rabbit warrens - so picking out which set of chairs is not as simple as it might be in some homes. Also they have an attic, two garages, and a storage room in their basement from which furniture is occasionally unearthed. Still, yes, should have listened better.
And while I’m posting suburban scariness! Noah does dishes
Bundt cakes
Being a warrior queen/suburban writer-housewife can be rough sometimes. I often feel like I should be riding horses and coming up with battle strategies, and instead I end up cleaning out my cupboards. My identity is often stuck in cognitive dissonance. (I suspect this is not unique to warrior-multiples but I can only speak for me.)
That’s why this gift is perfect: the mold that made this cake. Sassy has a gift for gifts, but she’s also incredibly generous - one of the hard things about the way we’ve all chosen to conduct ourselves is that I’m not cleaning out her cupboards, you know? And yet she found the perfect bundt cake. Lyr loves it because - well, cake! A really nice cake pan. I love it because it made this fort! Once I have a bit of mad money again I might even have to go get some little men and women so that we can set up battles. I can even see massive cake decorating in our future.
But meanwhile, the bleak winter snow has come to our silent walls…
(And yes, this was Teh Seekrit dessert. It is indeed a gingerbread bundt cake, but I don’t completely recommend the recipe… it was okay, but not spectacular. Feel free to share spectacular bundt recipes bellow. In fact this was my first bundt ever… but not my last.)
Random holiday bullets
- On Christmas: We’ve put together a slightly minimalist approach. So far we only have our Thousand Villages garlands up but tonight or tomorrow morning I’ll put some lights up and a few things around, including stockings. Next year we may have a tree, but not this year.
- Tomorrow… my parents are coming here for Christmas Eve dinner and gift exchange. The menu is pretty simple: prime rib, peas, mashed carrots and turnips, and my mother is bringing her twice-baked potatoes. Hummus and pita for an appetizer; brie and clementines; and oh yes, a store-bought apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Maybe some cookies. Potentially a last-minute switch to Teh Seekrit dessert which, if it occurs, I will talk about in an entry!
- 7:36 this morning I pulled into the 24-hr grocery store parking lot to get the prime rib as above. I laughed and laughed because there were about 8 women looking just like me - rolled out of bed, basically - rushing into the store clutching their lists. What a crazy society we live in. However, it did work: no huge lines.
- Today was to have been my day to putter about cleaning, baking, and wrapping, but at 10:45 Carl’s cell phone went off and he has been embroiled in a Situation since then. Le sigh.
- The chairs haven’t come up since. I’m still pondering all your excellent advice. I’m really not sure yet.
- Noah is scarily imitative. Yesterday I was standing near the sink and I saw Noah snag the dish towel so I followed him and he took it into the living room to wipe up milk he had managed to spill out of his sippy cup. I laughed. Lest you think I have the world’s cleanest toddler, he then realized he could use the leak that had sprung like paint and went about smearing milk all over the wood floor. Which I duly wiped up with the dish towel.
- This story in the Star about a boy who had a fall not so different from Noah’s but with vastly different results made me cry, and panic in retrospect. I am very grateful Noah seems to have come out unscathed.
- Two years ago on this day we moved out of our home of 7 years. This year it is a hole in the ground, that house: the foundations are poured for the two that will replace it.
- My next deadline is the 27th. As usual I had plans to get it done early and as usual, have not. Some things are constant! It’s four light stories though, no interviews to speak of, so they should be fun.
- I hope whatever you celebrate (belated happy Hannukah) you are enjoying it. Today is our working day but after that it’s all lying about eating, really. Oh and gifting. :)
Organics and more
I finally got my act and our financial priorities together to order the organic veggie/fruit box again. (From Green Earth Organics, if anyone’s wondering.) It’s been two and a half years - maybe a bit more - since we were receiving that, since we cancelled it while we were saving up for mat leave for Emily.
Lyr had been agitating and I’d wanted to, but what ultimately pushed me to order it now - middle of winter, when it’s Big Organics mostly coming in the box anyway and not local produce (although they try to buy local where possible) - was Marion Nestle’s What to Eat. I’m really enjoying that book a lot, and learning a lot - and I thought I had a handle on food companies, etc. Anyways, she said a study on kids in elementary school showed that kids who ate regular produce had 6 times the pesticide levels in their urine than kids who ate organic produce. We buy organic at the store about 1/3 to a 1/2 the time - it’s so pricey but I do believe with a baby it makes an even bigger difference, plus I like my money to go to that - but I decided to go with getting a whack of it cheaper. We can figure out what to do with the kale. (Actually that’s one of the neat things, for veggies to just arrive and get us out of our ruts.)
When it arrived today I remembered too that there’s no packaging - it all comes in a big rubbermaid bin, that they exchange for a full one every week. Another bonus for the environment.
Noah was enthralled to get to open it. I had to be a little careful with the spinach and lettuce (the FDA still hasn’t revoked their spinach warning, and this was US greens) but he picked up a pear and toddled around with it proudly, occasionally signing “fruit” or “apple” (which is more his generic fruit). It was definitely a moment. That’s the kind of fun that gets Lyria giggling for breaths and breaths.
We’ve also been doing some holiday baking - not the usual amount, but some - I daresay enough although after tomorrow’s deadline we must do more so as to have enough to hand out to everyone local, at least. That’s been good. A little sad, because the last time we did we were pregnant with Emily and it’s rather amazing how getting our hands in the dough really brings up those visceral memories, pregnant bellies in that striped red shirt that was our favourite maternity sweater against the counter getting all floury. The feel of it.
But good nonetheless. I feel like we’re still exhaling that Noah is okay and here, and recovering from all the changes that cascaded the last couple of years. It makes me grateful for changes that haven’t occured (boss idiotic statements nonetheless) like having somewhat the same work, the same friends, the same partners.
We’re also getting back on the path to healthier eating and living again. I’ve been feeding Noah really well but often eating crap myself good PLUS crap) and although I’m still a little under my pre-Emily weight I’m totally not pleased with my body. I feel ready to get on the wagon again, and the yummy veggie box is a good part of that. So’s What to Eat and also Mindless Eating which is a whole post unto itself.
~~
Noah is recovering fine from his fall; the gooseegg is still going down. I took him to get his picture with Santa yesterday (ambivalently, but we did last year so I figured why not) and Noah hated Santa, and freaked out. He definitely knows whose kid he is not and when Santa tried to touch him he let out a huge shriek. So I do have a Santa pic (no scanner yet, sorry) with me sitting with Santa (woe; I didn’t plan to be in the picture) holding a crying Noah. Well, that’s what it was like. It’s looks a little sadistic though so I think I’ll keep most copies to myself.
Today I dared the sidewalk again and he was fine. And very glad to get outside under his own steam again. Then we did dishes (pics later). It was a really good day.
And now, down to work!
Again, with the chairs (disturbing content)
Sometimes I wish I’d found time/bothered to find a way to upload my diary-x archives.
Here’s the summary though. My grandfather sodomized Lynn over a chair at his house, as well as committed other acts of molestation on it. It was the chair in which he sat, and drank, every night.
In 1992, I/Teresa told my parents about the molestation, at least, in vague general terms. Their response was both the right one - I mean, they did believe her, right away - and a bit odd, because it turned into huge family drama that lasted a few months and then - ended. They confronted my grandfather about the abuse, and he admitted to it and said he had “done much worse,” which they took to mean in his life. Then they more or less cut contact for a while until he was very sick.
When my grandfather died, my parents brought a lot of his remaining furniture up (he’d downsized some in the meantime). Including this particular chair. And after a couple of years they moved it into their home.
At that time I told them that he had sodomized me over that chair. (It had a matching ottoman.)
And that I would not be coming into their home while the chair was there.
It stayed for over a year and a half. During which time I met my parents at restaurants and in malls, and stood on the threshold, but never entered the house. Finally they moved the chair. And, I thought, got rid of it. The ottoman though, did stay in the house. Creepily.
So that’s the backstory.
This morning my mother called out of the blue to talk over her latest house decorating plans. Note that it is getting close to Christmas, season of fucked family stuff. During this conversation my mother dropped that her plans for the living room include getting that chair (and another from the set) recovered and put back in her living room.
Wow. Just wow. And me without my regular therapy appointment.
Woe / ER Trip #2
Noah got his 15 month shots today plus the t-preservative laden flu shot. I have read up on autism and vaccinations and I believe I made the best decision I could with the info I had. So there.
Then we came home and Carl was still working at the kitchen table, on the bench. Normally during the day right now I push the kitchen table against the wall, over the bench, to prevent the climbing.
You can see what’s coming. In brief: Noah, dancing with joy of getting to stand on the bench where Carl was working while mum took time to breathe after difficult doctor’s visit, fell.
Badly.
The kind of fall where you don’t even have to ask yourself if you are going to the ER. ‘Cause you just know you are. He fell onto the back of his head on a ceramic floor. With a godawful noise. And a huge gooseegg that puffed out very very quickly. (No passing out or vomiting or anything.)
Noah is fine. We sat in the ER for over 4 hours for him to be seen. He played, walked about, slept a little, and was overall charming considering the circumstances, as long as no nurses came by. He had identified them as the enemy after having to have (oh woe) his PULSE taken.
I was pretty sure after the first hour that he was going to be okay, but the fall was such that I was glad to be spending that time in an ER. Of course next week when he’s sick with whatever he picked up there, I will reconsider.
The fear never ends with kids, and Noah is not the kind of kid that is going to be injury free (we got home: he sobbed because the bench was under the table.) This one though I sort of have to say was foreseeable: I deferred to Carl because I wanted a few minutes off, and Carl was distracted and also just isn’t quite as careful about these things. I’m a bit grumpy with myself for having backed down and a bit grumpy with Carl for having assured me it was fine, and mostly just tired out.
This stuff is still really hard. I’m sure it is for all parents but I’m not sure all parents have quite the same access to experience with just how fragile kids are in reality that I do. Driving up to the hospital I was really, really scared. Right now I am really, really spent. It just took a lot of emotional resources at a bad time of year. I think in March I will lock Noah and myself into a padded room with nothing dangerous in it.