June 15, 2009

The Name Game

We got a cat when I was fourteen, and as I was the oldest and precocious, I decided I would name it. I named it Socks first, I think, after the White House cat (naturally). But then seeing as our cat didn’t have socks, I decided to name it Tim Johnson instead, which was the name of the dog in To Kill A Mockingbird, and I liked the idea of pets with surnames. But that was stupid, so I changed the cat’s name to Daisy, and I can’t remember why. Then we found out that Daisy was a Tom, so I decided she would be called Casey (at the bat?). And then when I decided to change the cat’s name next, my family called it off and Casey the cat stayed, though I never called it that. I always called it Cat, because I’d seen Breakfast at Tiffanys, and wanted to go Golightly.

So this was why I was apprehensive about naming my child. Though I’ve always found names fascinating and entrancing, I’m fickle about them. In many ways, cats and children are different creatures (so I’ve found of late), and you can only change a daughter’s name so many times if you must do it at all. How to pick a name that would stick?

The first name I ever loved was “Julie”, after Mackenzie Phillips’ character on One Day at a Time. Julie was also my best friend in grade one, and I adored her and she beautiful, though she was sensitive about her hairy arms. I went through an “Ellen” phase, after the character on Family Ties, I think. I watched far too much television; I would have died to have been named “Jo”. I fell in love with “Bianca”, not from Shakespeare, but from Shelley Long’s character’s sister in the movie Hello Again. I was particularly impressionable, and agreed that “Cordelia” was the most exquisite name imaginable. I loved the name “Zoe” for a while, and after I read Louise Fitzhugh’s The Long Secret, I thought “Zeeney” was similarly cool, though she’d not been the most appetizing of characters. And these name fixations would go on and on, influenced by all kinds of sitcoms, films and pop stars. I kept ever-changing lists of what my future daughters would be called, though it never occurred to me to think much about a son.

Strange that Louise Fitzhugh ultimately did decide my child’s name. Baby was not to be Zeeney after all (which is good) but Harriet, after the book from which The Long Secret was a sequel. And I’d never read Harriet the Spy until last year, actually, after I heard this feature on NPR. But I fell in love with Ms. Welsch, and her name topped my list. I knew immediately that I wanted a little Harriet of my own one day. I couldn’t think of anyone better to be named after– such a feisty, clever, independent, hilarious, and wonderful character. Impossible too, which strikes me now as a somewhat fortunate/unfortunate quality to project upon one’s child. Perhaps I should have thought it through a little bit more, because this baby fits the bill so far. The name itself means “Home Ruler”, which is appropriate, I think. So this is what we’ve got ourselves in for…

But it sticks. It’s belonged to her since the moment we saw her, and I do love that we now know someone with this name– have a Harriet in our family even! It is a ubiquitous name throughout literature, but all too rare in the real world. I think I’ll not stop loving it soon, because it’s Harriet’s name after all.

Though I do wonder whether she’ll thank us for it. If she’ll find Harriet M. Welsch as charming as I did. It is a tremendous power, isn’t it? Naming a person? Even fictionally, the name is such a determinate and the author certainly bestows innumerable qualities by such a fact. Naming a real person requires as much consideration– this is destiny. I find it strange that we were handed so much power. At the hospital they asked us her name, we told them, and it was that simple. I would have expected some kind of seminar, or at the very least a lecture (a stern one) about the seriousness of the decision we were about to make based on a 1960s children’s novel. Is nothing sacred? Apparently not, but we’re three weeks in, and at the very least, I’ve not wanted to change it yet.

June 12, 2009

A Novel Gift

Stuart and I both like the song “Daughter”, but the lyric “everything she owns, I bought her” doesn’t really apply to our situation. It’s more like, “That’s our daughter in the water, everything she owns was a gift from our extraordinarily generous friends and family.” She gets packages in the post near daily, always full of delightful things. We feel so lucky and appreciative of these gifts, and all the thoughts and good wishes we’ve received. Harriet lacks for nothing, no thanks to us really. Our freezer is also similarly stocked.

But one gift does stand out a bit. In addition to adorable summer outfits, Harriet’s Auntie Jennie also gave us a novel. Or, gave me a novel. It was Catherine O’Flynn’s novel What Was Lost, which I’ve wanted to read for ages. And this novel gift really was particularly novel, because nobody ever gives me books. Oh, as I’ve said, people give me lots of things, but I’ve read so many books already and my tastes are quite defined that friends are more inclined to give me other things. So that rarely do I ever receive a book as a surprise, let alone a book I’ve been dying to read anyway. I imagine I’m not the only bookish sort who suffers from this plight. Oh, the tortured problems of the middle class…

June 6, 2009

Clearest, starkest brilliance

“Motherhood is a storm, a seizure: It is like weather. Nights of high wind followed by calm mornings of dense fog or brilliant sunshine that gives way to tropical rain, or blinding snow. Jane Louise and Edie found themselves swept away, cast ashore, washed overboard. It was hard to keep anything straight. The days seemed to congeal like rubber cement, although moments stood out in clearest, starkest brilliance. You might string those together on the charm bracelet of your memory if you could keep your eyes open long enough to remember anything.” –Laurie Colwin, from A Big Storm Knocked It Over

That I’ve read an entire book over the past twelve days means that all is not lost. And indeed, there have been numerous “moments standing out in clearest, starkest brilliance,” though these don’t include the hours we spent in the Sick Kids Emergency when Harriet when just four days old (she was fine, thank goodness, but that experience was like staring straight into hell), her much too-much weight loss that has had both of us struggling to make up for it ever since, that I may have cried as much as she has, and the overwhelming dread at the thought of her Daddy returning to work on Monday. But we’ve enjoyed taking her out for her first walks in her carrier, trying to figure out what she likes (not much, but we suspect being in her carrier is a comfort), getting massages from Daddy, midwife visits where she’s gained an ounce every day, the sun shining through the windows, all the support we’ve had from family, friends and our most excellent neighbours, and that she’s received so good wishes from all over the world. Harriet has also received post every day, though she’s not yet old enough to realize how exciting that is. We’ve also been fortunate that I’ve come through my surgery so well and easily. My crush on the surgeon went into high gear in the days after her birth (which, in spite of the operating room, was as gorgeous as any birth could be, and I don’t feel I’ve missed anything) because he looked like Paul Simon circa 1970s, and because of what a good job he’d done, and what a beautiful baby he’d delivered (though about three nights ago at three o’clock in the morn, I was sorely tempted to go firebomb his house). It’s been a very difficult time for all of us this past while– I’ve never been much inclined to work hard at things I’m not loving, and this isn’t a job I can pass along to anybody else. Though I’m finding, ever-increasingly, those moments standing out in clearest, starkest brilliance when I don’t want to.

May 31, 2009

What life has been like lately…

I’d post a picture of me and the baby, but as I’ve ceased to wear clothes, I’ve got none that are presentable. Harriet doesn’t wear clothes either, but she pulls it off much better. We’re now inhabiting a Harriet-centric universe, and we like it here. She’s fitting into the family very well, and we’re working hard to get her fatter. Her daddy is so wonderful to both of us, it makes me cry. She looks so much like him that it’s a bit startling, and she’s so beautiful that we can’t stop talking about it. We also can’t stop singing her “Ignition Remix” by R. Kelly, which may have a detrimental effect in years to come. But regardless, I continue to be a very lucky lady.

Psst: Harriet is after the spy, of course. I’ll be writing more about that later.

May 25, 2009

What life has been like lately…

Because I am a very lucky lady. And now we’ll just have to wait and see what happens next.

I’ll be back when I’m ready. I’ll miss you until then.

May 22, 2009

Yellow House

Our house is being painted. Anyone who knows our house will also know that this is very good news. That no longer will we live in the shabby blue house, but in the freshly painted yellow one. I think this counts as upward mobility. We are very excited, and glad Baby won’t have to be embarrassed at its premises. We’re also getting a great deal on the painting (ie we’re renters, and so someone else is getting the bill). The only downside is that the last few days I’ve had to endure such disconcerting sights as this one.

May 18, 2009

Long Weekend

Long weekend= Sweet Fantasies Ice Cream, long rainy Saturday with plenty of time for napping, dinner out (with cake and two forks), The Movies (which was Star Trek, because I definitely owed Stuart for a variety of dullish [to him] cultural events he’s accompanied me to), grilled asparagus for lunch, long long walk to Trinity Bellwoods Park and home again (with plenty of bench resting along the way), brunch out, trip to the ROM and the Schadd Biodiversity Gallery, Dufflet treats in the ROM cafe, Greg’s Ice Cream, an afternoon together in the company of our books, three books for me in three days (and another one tomorrow?), squirms from the little one who will be born in just eight days, and yes, this is far too many sweets, I know, but as one is only ever 39 weeks pregnant a few times in a life, we shall shove your dietitian where the sun don’t shine. (Which isn’t here, thankfully. Happy May.)

May 15, 2009

Bad Gardener

Bad mother, bad schmother– what I am is a bad gardener. I didn’t used to think this. I used to even imagine that I had a green thumb, but turns out I just lived in a house whose backyard had very fertile soil (as a result of probably 40+ years of being a Portuguese man’s backyard before it became ours). When we moved last year, we set up a pot garden on our deck, and it was a disaster. I think we got three cherry tomatoes and a bean from the whole lot, in addition to a crop of thyme we never managed to harvest. I will try again with a pot vegetable garden another time, but not this year, when I’ll be too consumed with another little seedling. But seeing as our deck might be as far out into the world as I venture some (most?) days, I wanted something to be growing there. We went to the garden centre last weekend and bought a bunch of annuals that should take off without a great deal of work on our part. Though not if the squirrels have anything to do with it, bruddy squirrels, those vandals. It would be one thing if they ate the plants, or if their nuts were actually buried there– but there are no nuts, they have no interest in the flowers but to unearth them. The squirrels just dig until the pot is sufficiently ransacked, then go about their merry way. Or as merry as a way can be for vermin. If I were a different type of person, I’d be gedding out my shotgun…

May 13, 2009

How the future's done

Lyrics from the baby’s current favourite song (or at least song that brings on the most squirms) suggests to me that he/she will fit in fine around here: “I got a man to stick it out/ And make a home from a rented house/ And we’ll collect the moments one by one/ I guess that’s how the future’s done.”

April 27, 2009

Tea for… Eight?

I hosted an afternoon tea today for my friend Jennie, who is getting married in July. It was the first time I’d ever made tea WITH sandwiches, which turned out not to be true at all as Stuart made all the sandwiches. They were delicious! We had smoked salmon, cucumber cream cheese, and cheddar and chutney. For sweets, we had banana cake, chocolate cupcakes and fresh fruit. And of course, scones with strawberry jam and devonshire cream. Tea options were hot and iced, and the whole thing was delicious. I am pleased, and grateful for a friend who lends the occasion of her wedding as an excuse to fulfill my own tea fixation. It was a very lovely afternoon.