March 21, 2013
A few weeks ago, when everything seemed really terrible, I discovered that Kawartha Dairy Ice Cream was sold by the tub at Bloor Superfresh, and I think that this ice cream has been what’s gotten me through most of March. We’ve tried a few flavours, but nothing has outranked Death by Chocolate. We’re totally addicted, though we’re trying to wean Harriet off the habit. Yesterday we told her dessert was a mango, and we saved our ice cream until after she’d gone to bed.
Before I went for my biopsy last week, I had a conversation with a friend who told me that she always rewards herself after unpleasant medical procedures with the reward of being able to eat whatever she wants. This was in an email, and how I laughed and laughed as I read that. “I’m 7 months pregnant and awaiting a biopsy,” I replied. “I eat what I want all the time.” We’re actually on two tubs a week, which is a little excessive, but what can you do? My other craving is for quinoa and asparagus salad, so I think it all balances out.
The wonderful thing about our Kawartha Dairy habit is that it leads to the most delightful shopping excusions. On Sunday, the only items on our shopping list were ice cream and a bouquet of pussy-willows, which is not a terrible way to live a life.
Another good thing is my good fortune to have a sister who can put together a care-package like nobody’s business. Unfortunately, the local squirrels concur. A big box arrived two weeks ago packed with our favourite kind of tea, a variety of creams, soaps and bathy things, chocolate, and stickers for Harriet. It occurred to me then how much things can really matter when more important matters are up in the air–you’re in a bad place, but then you can eat chocolate and have a luxurious hot bath (while reading an Isabel Huggan book, naturally) which doesn’t transport you away from that bad place, but it also doesn’t make the loveliness any less lovely either.
The package, however, with its many scents had proved too much for the squirrels to resist, so they go to it first. When I finally received it, the squirrels had eaten a hole in the side and it was a sorry sight, that brown paper package tied up with…tape. But thankfully the squirrels had left the contents unscathed. I’m not what they were looking for if the reality of the package came up short, but I’m glad it did. Such lovely scented things have never been better enjoyed.
Oh, and other good things have included the moms at Harriet’s playschool who make up one of the nicest communities I’ve ever been a part of. I remember being apprehensive about the school’s cooperative nature back before we started. Surely, I figured, I’m friends already with everybody ever worth being friends with? But the other parents were so welcoming, and lovely, and I’ve so appreciated their support these last few weeks when my mind has been dwelling in less than fun places. These women have expressed concern, offered generously to help us out, and have been there for me to talk to (and cry to, on one particularly difficult day). Their goodness has made all the difference in the world.
And there are also wonderful books to read (I am reading this one now and it’s amazing); our new bed that is so comfortable, I spend the day counting down until I can get back in it; brunch guests who bring enormous boxes from Clafouti; good things in the post; reading Ramona the Pest at bedtime; hot baths; one of those playschool Moms who gave me a big bag of maternity clothes that aren’t ugly; our fantastic midwives; that I’ve got really good parents; friends who call/write/email; crocuses up across the street; that whole week we went without winter boots; strangers who email to tell me everything will be okay; when our fetus dances to I Got You by Split Enz; and that the strangers were very likely right.
Everything is probably going to be okay, and even if it isn’t, isn’t it more than a little okay already?