October 15, 2010
There is no other way
“Nevertheless, Friedan raised a critical point: “The only way for a woman, as for a man, to find herself, to know herself as a person, is by creative work of her own. There is no other way.” What Friedan understood, but what many of us ultimately forgot, is that simply landing a job does not guarantee self-actualization. At the same time, the homemaker who simply learns to cook dinner, keep a garden and patch blue jeans will probably not find deep fulfillment either. Those who do not seriously challenge themselves with a genuine life plan, with the intent of taking a constructive role in society, will share the same dangers as the housewives who suffered under the mystique of feminine fulfillment; they face what Friedan called a “nonexistent future”.”– Radical Homemakers: Reclaiming Domesticity from a Consumer Culture by Shannon Hayes
September 29, 2010
Things in the bag
The following is a list of things in the bag that Harriet carries around the house and cries when we take away from her:
1) Two plastic teacups
2) Belinda-Mona’s shoe
3) Harriet’s shoe
4) Whatever socks Harriet is meant to be wearing
5) A can of sardines
6) A plastic saucer
7) A small tin pie-plate
8) A coaster with a picture of the Sargeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover on it
9) A pink crayon
10) Conkers
August 22, 2010
Cups and saucers
Today we not only hopped in the car, but we went to the mall, both of which are novel experiences for mall-hating folks such as ourselves, who don’t even own a car. But it was raining outside, and Harriet needed new pajamas, and our dinnerware also needed replacing after more than five years of being chipped and broken. Due to financial reasons, I couldn’t get the dishes I really wanted, but I do like the ones we settled on instead. The teacups in particular, and how lovely to have a saucer for each one to rest upon.
August 8, 2010
Not glad to get home at all
Interestingly, this last week of going along, listening to all the things we couldn’t hear and not bothering turned out to be quite monumental. During our escape to the wilds of The Kawarthas, Harriet learned to walk, learned to dance, and made her first friend, who was called Izzy and is two. (Harriet has other friends, but I have for the most part projected these friendships upon her, whereas Izzy was friended independently. Harriet was totally in love, they hugged each other good-bye at the end of the week.)
Stuart and I spent a week without the internet, and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, in particular our games of Scrabble on the porch in the evenings. We were both unsurprised to come home and discover we’d missed not much at all while we were away.
And to my great benefit, Stuart started reading Stieg Larsson en vacance, which meant that for a few days my husband loved reading just as much as I did. This was how I managed to get almost five books read during Harriet’s naptimes (which were made expansive by her running around like a wild animal when out of doors, and thus becoming exhausted). It also led to some book-buying adventures, which I’ll be recounting here in coming days.
It was a wonderful week, everything we wanted and needed, and also full of corn-on-the-cob and fresh peach pie. And no matter how often we swept the floor, there was sand underfoot, and there was sand in the shower, and on the table, and finally throughout the bed, so we were glad to get home and lose the grit. But other than that I really don’t think we were so glad to get home at all.
July 25, 2010
What I expected
Harriet (aged 14 months) likes teacups, Miffy, and books, and so my job here is basically done. And though she’s changing all the time (starting to walk, starting to talk!), her recent engagement with books has been particularly fascinating. She’s started to make real connections between the books we read and the actual world, pointing out dogs within pages as she does on the sidewalk. When we pull out Hand Hand Finger Thumb, she goes to get her own drum off her shelf so she can play along with the monkeys. We’re rereading The House at Pooh Corner at the moment, and she points up at her mobile when she hears Pooh’s or Piglet’s name. When we read Kisses Kisses Baby-O by Sheree Fitch, and get to the “slurpy, burpy” page, she starts pointing to her breastfeeding pillow. When we read Ten Little Fingers, Ten Little Toes, she shows us all the appropriate digits. Tonight when we read Goodnight Gorilla (on the occasion of a trip to the zoo) she went insane, but I think that was only because she was tired.
It’s all very exciting though, partly because there was once a time when Harriet was about as engaging as a wall. But mostly because I love books and she seems to like them too, and they’re such a wonderful thing for us to enjoy together. It’s the one of the few illusions I had pre-motherhood that has turned out exactly as I’d expected.
June 24, 2010
Pssst… today is my birthday
Pssst…. today is my birthday. Which has made clear how far a body can come in a year. Because last year was my thirtieth birthday, and it was terrible. I had a four week old baby who had screamed all night the night before, my husband was so busy picking up the pieces of me that he didn’t have much time to orchestrate birthday celebrations, and my computer had just crashed taking with it five years of everything on that precious hard-drive.
The evening was better– Stuart went shopping on his lunch break and came home with some wonderful presents, including a beautiful sundress to cloak the postpartum frump. My sister and best friend were here for a bbq dinner, and Harriet bestowed me with two wonderful gifts– about twenty minutes during which she was awake and not crying (and this was so exciting! We all just gathered around to watch her be), and then she fell asleep and we ate our dinner without Harriet-juggling for the first time since her birth. I also drank beer. But still, it wasn’t the best day.
Today however, my thirty-first, in spite of earthquakes and tornadoes the day before, has been so far without calamity. I got croissants and jam in bed, and wonderful presents (including the beautiful Changing My Mind by Zadie Smith, and Sarah Harmer’s new CD which is a wonderful birthday morning soundtrack). Opened a lovely stack of cards for me this morning, a few of which were delightfully bookish. I’m going to drop over to my friend Bronwyn’s for a cup of tea this afternoon, and we’re having Thai take-out and a Dairy Queen Treatza Pizza for dinner tonight (and did you know they’ve been discontinued in the US? I never realized before just how fortunate I am to be Canadian).
Anyway, Harriet been occupied unpacking my new Body Shop satsuma gift pack, but I’ve just noticed teethmarks in the soapbar. I will turn my attention back to her then (and note that she’s now crying because I won’t give it back to her for another bite). So we will go and play, and she’ll get up to all her new tricks– showing me her belly button, pretending to talk on the phone, offering a cup of tea to Miffy, showing me my bellybutton, sucking on my nose, and a good old game of plush-ball catch.
June 21, 2010
Harriet gardening
You probably shouldn’t let your baby dig in soil with a spoon. Because while spoons are good digging implements, they’re also good for delivering items to the mouth, and though Harriet’s spoon/mouth coordination is not always right on track, it certainly was the time she ate a giant spoonful of soil… So it was kind of a milestone, times two if eating dirt is also a milestone. Is it?
June 18, 2010
Our Wooden Anniversary
Five years ago, Stuart and I got married in the Northwest of England following a fourteen month sojourn in Japan, and two weeks after our wedding, we moved to Canada. Our wedding was the wedding of my dreams for many reasons, not least of which were the blazing sunshine and the friends and family all around us. But most of all, it was the wedding of my dreams because I married Stuart, who I like better than perhaps anyone, whose company I’ve never grown tired of, who I’m so lucky to begin every day with, who was always very understanding when I shouted terrible things when the baby was new and life was terrible, who doesn’t protest when I decide to bake a pie late at night and even does the washing-up, who goes out on pomegranate errands to satisfy my whims, who is my favourite co-pilot, who is funny even when I’m not overtired (but particularly hilarious when I am), who goes to work so I don’t have to, who gets up in the morning with the baby and lets me sleep in, and who last month left work early in order to buy me a new bathing suit because mine had disappeared a half hour before swimming lessons started and the alternative was me going swimming in my underwear. He really is the best ever, the foundation of all my happiness, and my respect for him gets bigger all the time.
June 14, 2010
I am having an affair
…with this yardsale-purchased breadbox. We have decided to move in together.
