The light as we walk to the bus stop this week has been especially gorgeous, all soft and golden, bathing everything with a special glow. Well, at least when it wasn’t raining. It seems like this is the time of year when the light is beautiful at the moments when I most need it. The sun’s warm rays touch the baby’s hair, as I rush down the street, turning her dark locks a burnished auburn. I’m worried about missing the bus, I’m worried that I yelled at the kids too much to get them out the door, I’m worried about forgetting something back at the house, I’m worried that the ten year old who runs ahead might forget to look for traffic before crossing the street. All these things. And then I see the sun kiss everything and turn it all gold and I remember to breathe and see beautiful things.
And then in the evening, as I’m trying to rush the kids home to pull dinner out of thin air, the sun, only this time coming from the opposite directions, once again tells me that I don’t need to rush quite yet. I can take the time to walk slowly and talk to my kid who I sometimes feel is is growing too quickly and maturing too slowly for my liking. After three weeks of driving to school, she says to me on our walk home, “I’d forgotten how nice it is to walk home in the fresh air!”
I know the way the light falls is just how the earth spins and tilts, but it seems like there is some cosmic plan here. Why else would the world look so beautiful just when I don’t feel like I have the time to slow down and not miss it? I mean now, when it is so cold outside and the dirty slush soaks through my poor choice of footwear? When all I want to do is be back inside my house, something is telling me that, “No, actually, what you need is fresh air. There is plenty out here if only you will pause and look and breathe.”
Of course I know that in a few weeks, the sun will hit that special horizon spot at a different point in my day. It will be there slanting through the kitchen window as I make breakfast, lunch and prep dinner. Morning activities that once felt practically nocturnal when carried out in the pre-dawn darkness will now feel very much part of the day. Maybe then, I’ll feel like the sunlight is saying, “This food that you are preparing is important. Take time to realize that!” Then in the evening, the light will come through the living room and stab us in the eye as we sit down for dinner and say grace, lighting up the one moment in the day where all five of us sit down, hands folded and quiet.
And then come summer, the inviting light will be there late into the evening, beckoning the kids to come out and play even though it is well past bedtime. And in the morning it will stream through their windows as they laze in bed, blankets pulled over their heads, exhausted from staying up late the night before.
I guess the sunlight will always peek through the trees and over rooftops twice a day. The rays will come through the kitchen window in the morning and flood the living room in the afternoon. It’s a predictable yet moving moment. Moving in the sense of changing from day to day, but also, I think in the sense of sentiment. These moving beams serve as a nice reminder, highlighting different moments of my day. As the year progresses and time marches on, the light reminds my distracted self not to take these moments for granted, even if it isn’t part of some larger cosmic message.
It’s my last week before I start work again, so I feel like the week has been a combination of trying to tie up loose ends and trying to stop and savor unfettered time. Well, somewhat fettered to the demands of a toddler.
I’m excited/ nervous to be going back to work and excited to be working on a show again. I know I worked on opera last summer, but something about going back to my home company where I’ve been for almost fifteen years feels different. It feels like things are back on track somehow. Hopefully we’ll all remember how to function.
The weather towards the end of the week was going to be rainy, so I tried to get in some good outdoor time in early in the week.
On Sunday the two little kids and I went on another of the hikes led by a naturalists at one of our Nature Centers. It was certainly cold – mid 20s. I thought that the hike would be cancelled for the cold, but when it wasn’t, I put the kids in their warm underwear and bundled them up. (Or rather, I threw their winter gear in a bag and took that too the car. This is my latest mom hack – since the kids can’t wear their puffy coat in the car anyway, I just keep coats, hats and gloves in a large bag and take that bag back and forth to the car. Seems easier to keep track of everything that way.)
We were the only family to show up for the hike. Apparently there were originally ten families signed up, but they all dropped out one by one. I was skeptical as to how long we would make it, given the cold weather, but our hike guide brought hand warmers and kept things moving and interesting and we managed to stay out for an hour and a half. We saw lots of geese and wrens and ducks, threw rocks on the frozen lakes, explored the chimney remnants from and old house, and collected pine cones and sycamore seed balls. Afterwards, the naturalist made us hot chocolate which we enjoyed in the nature center while watching the bald eagle cam live feed from Georgia.
Winter hike and then warm up.
Monday the baby and I went for a walk along the C&O Canal. The morning light over the Potomac was beautiful, and we sat on some rocks watching the ice flow down the river, the air periodically punctured by the loud cracking of ice breaking down below. There was scant snow on the ground, but there were some really beautiful ice patterns to be seen. The baby was a little grumpy at first, but then we wandered down to the banks of the river and she got to take part in one of her favorite things – throwing rocks in the river.
Winter walk along the Potomac.
I also thought this was fascinating: I stumbled over what at first seemed like a thick cord of roots, but then upon closer examination saw that it was a cable, the brown rust of it melding perfectly into the dirt. I wonder what it was from!
The ten year old had Tuesday off school. I had promised that she could go skating with her friend, but when her friend couldn’t make it, we went any way. At first I was just going to watch, but the person at the skate counter told me that kids 2 and under could skate for free, so I asked the baby if she wanted to try, and she said yes. So baby’s first skate! I realize that I should have had her in a helmet and gloves… mental note for next time. I was sure she was going to hate it, but she’s already said she wants to go again.
Skating sisters!
Tuesday afternoon and evening I also had a supertitle gig for a vocal recital. On the dinner break between the rehearsal and the performance, I met up with a friend for a walk. It also was Lunar New Year, and the Kennedy Center had a beautiful light display up to celebrate. My friend and I wandered outside to see the lanterns at such a perfect moment when the sun was starting to set, making the sky all swirly pink. The contrast between Mother Nature’s and Man’s lighting display was breathtaking.
flowers and sunsets.
Ocean of light.
The recital itself was lovely. There was one piece in Russian, which was an interesting challenge. Thank goodness for Google. As I was preparing the supertitle slides, I saw that the second half of the recital was a new song cycle based on the poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay, one of my favorite poets. The poems that the composer used were new to me, and I loved one in particular – “If Still Your Orchard Bears“. It talks about the timeless nature of regret and pain, how all people must endure it. An excerpt:
Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadow of the trees, – Thing that you could not spare And live or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was Nor yet the thing he’d planned.
I had a realization on Friday that this would be my last time on my own with a baby without childcare for a while… maybe ever? My mother comes next week to help watch her and then she might be in daycare come summer. It’s all very bittersweet, but I feel really lucky to have had this time with her. Of all the kids, I’ve spent the most time at home with this third one, thanks to the pandemic. Even though I was back at work five days after she was born, she was only six months old when the pandemic hit and we’ve been joined at the hip since, give or take seven weeks last summer and a few nights since then.
This week was particularly exhausting with her. I think it was partly that the weather was really rainy so we couldn’t spend as much time outside as possible, also partly that I had two days with two kids at home and I’ve forgotten how constant having more than one kid at home is. And also I’ve been trying to get some last minute things done before I start back at work, so I’ve had to split my attention more than usual.
One day, the baby kept asking to paint, so I set her up with paper and paints and a paintbrush at the kitchen table and figured I could set up my computer at the other end of the table and get the bills paid. Not so much. I think it took two hours to pay the bills; usually it takes fifteen minutes.
I was listening to this episode of Death, Sex, and Money titled “A Season to Savor” where Anna Sales talks about the importance of taking time to savor things. Savoring was one of the assignments in the “Science of Well Being” course that I took online last year, but I think I had somewhat drifted from doing it intentionally. There is a line in my habit tracker for “savoring”, but lately it’s been things I’ve remembered savoring rather than things I’ve been intentionally savoring. I think I would like to plan more intentional things to savor. But anyhow, things I have savored this week: – The ice flowing on the Potomac River. -Baroque music. I’ve been listening to the radio in the car lately rather than just putting on a podcast. There is something about the serendipity of radio music – being delighted and surprised by what is playing. One day this week, I got in the car and turned the key in the ignition and I was greeted by the sound of a transcription for solo piano of a Bach Partita. It made me so happy. Hearing the Bach reminded me of how, there is a member of the music staff at work who would play Bach in the mornings on the piano in the rehearsal rooms. I would come in to set up for rehearsals and there he would be playing with the grace and precision that I love about baroque music. It was always the most perfect start to my days. – The quiet moment right after I’ve struggled to get all three kids out of the house with their stuff, put them in the car, buckled them in, and shut the door. Standing outside the car with the door closed, you can’t hear anyone cry because their sibling is kicking them or scream that they don’t have their car stuffie or whine about having to go to school. With the door closed, I can take a moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath and enjoy the silence. Then I feel ready to open the driver side door and get back into the cacophony. -A song recital. I know it was work, but Strauss wrote some really great music. -Working a song recital. The flow of following the music and bringing up titles at the right moment. – The baby. In all her messy, mischievous, glory. Even though she tried to down a container of powdered sugar as if it were a tankard of beer. Definitely took some moments to savor our adventures, just the two of us. This wasn’t how I thought the first two and a half years of her life were going to go, but it’s been really great, actually.
What We Ate: Another unplanned pantry meal week, but I think we actually did pretty well.
Saturday: Pizza and Paddington 2. We had double pizza and movie night this week. We had forgotten to defrost pizza dough the Friday before so the traditional pizza/movie night was… less than satisfactory. So we had a re-do. Paddington 2 was delightful.
Sunday: Leftovers – kitchen sink fried rice.
Monday: Farmhouse Barley Soup from Vegan for Everyone from America’s Test Kitchen. Only we were out of barley so I used farro instead.
Tuesday: I was working, so I picked up a sandwich at the café next to work. The Husband made dumplings and noodles for the kids since it was Lunar New Year.
Wednesday: Vegan Gnocchi Soup. This recipe to use up a package of gnocchi that has been sitting in the fridge since the last time I made this recipe.
Thursday: Sweet Potato and Black Bean tacos from Dinner Illustrated.
Friday: Pizza and Cinderella Story: Once Upon a Song.
My middle child turned five last weekend. What the what?!?
But… that also meant that he was eligible for his first COVID vaccine shot. Hooray! We had it done at the pediatrician’s office when he got his annual check up.
This Hamilton fan is not throwing away his shot!
He wanted a “rainbow cake”. We made him a cake from my mother in law’s recipe box and spent the week prior, sorting a Costco size tub of m&ms by colour so that we could make a rainbow on his cake. They don’t make purple m&ms which I explained to my son, and he seemed fine with it.
Rainbow cake!
It’s hard to believe that this sweet, funny, thoughtful little guy is five and will be going to kindergarten this fall.
This week was another four day week for the ten year old because Monday was off. I asked her what she wanted to do and she said she wanted to go to the Rec Center and play ping pong so we did. I always get a kick out of playing ping pong at the rec center because the ten year old and I are not terribly good at it, and there are always a couple of senior citizens on the tables next to us who are really good and just killing it. While the ten year old and I are running all over the place to bat the ball, the seniors plant themselves in one place and their arms go back and forth unerringly accurate and very rarely missing a ball. There is a metronomic click to their playing that is so clean and soothing.
Mid week the temperatures were in the low 40s so I was determined to find another selfie stand and check off some more of the 1000 hours. I found the selfie stand on a hike by a pond near one of the nature centers. We took our picture then set off on one of the many surrounding trails.
Soaring selfie
The trail we took led us to a lake that was mostly frozen. The baby loved throwing sticks and rocks into the lake, though she was a little mystified as to why the rocks just bounced and didn’t go splash. The she got annoyed and tried to order me to go out on the ice and retrieve her rocks so she could try again. I refused. There was a bit of a tantrum, then I distracted her with a nice fallen tree to climb.
Winter forest and lake hike.
Towards the end of the week, we went for a walk at the Botanical Gardens. I hadn’t been there in a while, certainly not yet this winter. I feel so grateful that these gardens are here and I can see them through all seasons. I loved this sign below: “Bulbs planted/ Please stay on walk.” I’ve been reading Katherine May’s Wintering, and I’m coming to embrace the idea of things (and people) needing time to lay in wait and prepare for the next thing, undisturbed. I feel like we need signs for ourselves to tell people when they need to give us space for our bulbs to prepare for Spring.
Bizarre, though probably entirely natural thing this week: I had a moment driving home one day this week when I looked down the road and there was a patch of sky that was this dark fluid patch, swirling above the telephone lines. I was so intrigued that I drove down the road to see what it was. It was birds, hundreds and hundreds of little birds moving en masse, swooping into the air and then landing on the telephone wires. All lined up on that wire, the birds looked for all the world like a page out of some Philip Glass score – uniform stemless quarter notes. I’d never seen so many birds grouped together like that, swirling up then down, making such a chirping racket. Eventually, they seemed to collectively decide it was time to move on and the whole lot off them took off like a cloud of black dots and few down the road. Having seen Hitchcock’s The Birds, there is something terrifying to me about a large group of birds. At the same time, the part of me that finds large group choreography mesmerizing, was just awe-struck by these birds and the aerial dance they were performing.
There’s a symphony in that….
And they’re off!
I’ve been flirting with various “challenges” this month. The 64 Million Artists January Challenge has been fun. Though I haven’t been great about doing every day, or posting the results, I’ve bookmarked a lot of the challenges to do later when I have more time. Having a creative prompt every day was a great way to pause and think about things outside of my tunnel.
I also did a “Less Phone More Life” challenge, where for a week I was sent strategies to spend, as it says, less time on my phone. It is not lost on me that there is something ironic about a online based challenge to spend less time on your phone. In the end, I did indeed spend about 25% less time on my phone from the week before – I was at about 3.5 hrs a day on average, down from 5.75 hours a day. The two big tips that I found helpful was moving all the apps off my home screen and turning off, or rather batching, my notifications. I’ve definitely found ways to work around these phone time roadblocks, but when it’s four steps to open my text messages instead of one, I’m more conscious of what I’m doing.
Two other takeaways from my “Less Phone” challenge: 1) Even though my daily average was down 25% over the week, I didn’t feel like I spent any less time on my phone. I felt like I still used my phone a lot – I read books, had very long text conversations with my mom’s group, surfed the internet, participated in online commenting forums, researched things, payed bills, used the GPS… These things didn’t change. I think the difference, that 25% is the time that I used to spend mindlessly on the phone. those pockets of phone time that I can’t remember afterwards. Like when I just pull out the phone when I’m between tasks, or “check creep” from checking the weather. Speaking of “check creep”- since I batched my notifications, I wasn’t checking my phone every time a new message came in, and I discovered that the weather was indeed the new gateway app to mindless scrolling. I’m not sure I’m concerned about this enough to find alternative weather sources, though. 2) My other big takeaway was realizing that the way I communicated via text, I was likely creating a sense of urgency for other people to check their phones too; not only was I contributing to my own constant phone usage, but I was also part of the problem for other people . Not that I’m responsible for the behavior of others, but when I send a message via text, I think it just feels more urgent and demands a response. Sometimes at work, this is just how we communicate because we can’t always step away to answer the phone or we’re involved in a very quiet situation and the person across the room can’t get up to ask a question. Texting among my stage management team becomes a form of dialogue. But texting doesn’t always have to have that sense of immediacy. I’m not sure what I can do to foster a more relaxed response instinct, but I realized that just responding to a notification is for me a gateway to phone use, in the same way activating a conversation creates a gateway for the message recipient. Not to foist my screen time aspirations on others, but I don’t really want to contribute to a culture where attention getting requires immediate action. So I’ve been thinking that on a large scale, phone use is not just the result of how we react to inputs; we also need to be aware of our outputs and how they might affect other people.
Another challenge I set for myself was to write one positive thing about each person in my family every day. I was realizing that some days I get mired in the things that my kids (and okay, the Husband) do that drive me nuts and want to scream, and I was forgetting to see them for the wonderful people they really are, particularly with my oldest. This column from Carolyn Hax last December hit particularly close to home – the letter writer asks for help dealing with the fact that they are finding it harder to show affection for their snarky teenager whereas their younger child is still a lot of fun. I feel this acutely some days – those days when the baby is delightful, but the ten year old is mouthy and obstinate. Okay, the baby is obstinate all the time too, but I don’t really expect her to know better so I find it less energy sapping. I’ve come to the realization that I’m a much better baby parent than big kid parent. Which is unfortunate because the big kids are the ones that are around much longer and need the most support.
Anyhow Hax’s advises the letter writer to really look for and appreciate the person their kid is becoming. “The surly stuff isn’t everything,” she write, “There’s an interesting person developing in there. The cute-caterpillar stage was always going to be temporary. Make it your mission right now to be the person who sees the first vague outlines of the butterfly, and delights in them.”
When I read the column, I realized that I was finding it really hard to see the forest my kids were for the trees that I wanted them to be. So I took an empty notebook and decided that every day I was going to write one positive sentence about each kid. It’s been a good exercise for me, especially seeing what positive things I find tread a line between my expectations and their character. Like “Helped get her sister dressed for the day.” vs. “Said something nice to a classmate who was feeling sad.” I’m realizing I need to uncouple my ideals from who my kids are or I’ll never be able to see the latter.
What We Ate – for whatever reason I didn’t meal plan this week, so it was a lot of meals from our pantry/fridge. Which wasn’t terrible, but I find it more mentally stressful than I would like.
Saturday: Hotdogs, bagged Caesar Salad. The five year old’s birthday dinner request.
Sunday: Leftovers and birthday cake.
Monday: Pork Tostadas from Mexico: The Cookbook, that the Husband borrowed from the library. The ten year old more or less cooked dinner with much supervision.
Tuesday: Green Bean and Tofu Stir Fry.
Wednesday: Tortellini (from frozen) with red sauce. One of our standard desperation dinners.
Thursday: Cheese soufflé, roasted potatoes and Irish soda bread. We weren’t really great about meal planning this week, and I thought this wasn’t bad for a “What’s in the pantry?” meal. I originally was just going to make a frittata, but then saw a recipe for soufflé in the Moosewood cookbook and thought, “Why not?” Soufflé has a certain mystique about it for me – I always think of that scene in the movie Sabrina where Audrey Hepburn fails at making a soufflé for her French cooking class. “A woman happily in love, she burns the soufflé,” a wise fellow student says to her, “A woman unhappily in love, she forgets to turn on the oven.” At any rate – it turns out it wasn’t difficult and my soufflé rose beautifully. It’s a good way to stretch six eggs to feed eight people, but I can’t say that I liked it better than a quiche or a frittata.
Friday: Pizza and Looney Tunes, Snoopy and Hello, Jack. It was the newly five year old’s turn to pick the move.
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, read by Frankie Corzo– I do love a gothic novel, but this book went from gothic to unhinged supernatural and it wasn’t really my thing.
The Making of Asian America by Erika Lee – (11h, 39m). This book traces the history of Asian Americans in America, from indentured servants brought to Latin America from the Philippines in the 16th century to today. I have to admit that my knowledge of Asian history is embarrassingly scant, and this book, while dry, was really eye-opening as to the scope of the Asian American experience. The term Asian encompasses such a wide range of countries and ethnic groups that it is only superficially practical a term. Lee really lays how how different the immigrant experience and motivations are for the people from each country of the Asian continent. One fact that struck me was when Lee points out that census data shows that Asian Americans are “over-represented at both ends of the educational and economic spectrum.” I think many Another sobering thought was how Asians were often the target of miscegenation laws; to think that as recently as fifty years ago, there were states in which I could not have married the Husband.
4000 Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman – (4h 1m) I thought Burkeman had some really great thoughts on how we decide how to spend our time, 4000 weeks being roughly the average human life span. He posits that in acknowledging that time is finite, we can give ourselves the grace to be decisive about what we do with it. One quote that particularly stood out to me: “Everyone seems to agree that if you embark on a relationship when you secretly suspect you could find someone better, you’re guilty of settling, because you’re opting to use up a portion of your life with a less-than-ideal partner. But since time is finite, the decision to refuse to settle… is also a case of settling, because you’re choosing to use up … your limited time in a different sort of less-than-ideal situation.” For someone who suffers from FOMO, this idea that there are many good choices and you should spend your time living the choice rather than choosing… it’s hits close to home. Not that one should make bad choices just to move on with life, but rather indecision is a form of settling as well.
The View Was Exhausting byMikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta read by Tania Rodrigues – Breezy Hollywood romance about a British Indian actress and a fake romance that might not be fake after all. This book was full of the usual glamour and glitz of a movie star life, but also the harsh realities of being a woman of colour in an industry dominated by white men. As swoon worthy as I found the lush description of luxury, I really loved the more intimate domestic parts of the book where the main character returns to her roots.
The Salt Path by Raynor Winn– (3h 3m) Winn discovers that her husband is terminally ill and then days later, they lose their house and farm in a frustrating legal battle. Left without a home, they decide to walk the South West Coat Path in England, a 630 mile trail. This book, like Wild, made me yearn to take a backpacking trip on my own – something about reading about inexperienced backpackers undertaking an epic journey makes the whole endeavor seem possible for me.
How Lucky by Will Leitch – (4h 53m) This novel is told through the point of view of Daniel, a 26 year old who is confined to a wheel chair due to a debilitating neuromuscular disorder. The plot centers around Daniel’s attempt to solve a mystery surrounding the disappearance of a college student, along the way enlisting the help of his best friend and his home health aid. Daniel’s voice has a certain prickly charm and humour that I really enjoyed. At the same time, I was very much aware that I was reading a novel about a disabled character written by a fully able author. Not that I thought the book inauthentic, or that writers can only write their own experience. Rather it made me want to seek out books written by authors with disabilities because I think diversity should not just be about what I read about, but also whose work I’m reading.
Hector and the Search for Happiness by Francois Lelord, translated by Lorenza Garcia, read by James Clamp – The Husband had watched a movie based on this book and liked the movie quite a lot. I found the book rather pithy – the title pretty much sums up the plot – but I did enjoy the characters that Hector met along the way.
The Seamstress by Frances de Pontes Peebles – Novel about two sisters from the interior of 1920s Brazil. Orphaned, they live with their aunt who trains them to be seamstresses, but then one marries into a wealthy family and the other is taken into a band of bandits/revolutionaries. Their lives unfold with a tension that mirrors the political upheaval of early twentieth century Brazil. There was something sweeping and cinematic about this book; it’s the stuff that epic Oscar winning historical costume dramas are made of: strong female characters, elegant locales contrasted with gritty back country, big historic moments, secrets and lies. It felt good to sink into this novel and while it was slow to start, the last third was gripping.
Billion Dollar Loser by Reeves Weideman – (6h. 33m) Weideman’s book tells the story of WeWork, and more specifically how WeWork’s CEO and Founder Adam Neumann managed to build an office sharing company incredibly quickly by selling investors on an idea that had an almost mystical and ideological allure, even though the reality of WeWork was built on very shaky ground and even more shoddy workplace practices. Reading this book made me realize how empty the idea of capitalism can be when charisma can bring in investors even when a company and its founder are clearly unbalanced. Of course hindsight is 20/20, and perhaps there was something incredibly appealing about the global community Neumann and his wife were trying to build especially at a time when so many start-ups were trying to create businesses that were based on virtual communities. In the book, Weideman quotes another co-working CEO who says, “You get to the question of, is that what capitalism is supposed to do?… One way to ask this question is, in the system we have set up, do the people who were successful reflect the values we want?”
At the beginning of the week, I got into my car, only to find that the battery had died. Apparently on Friday, upon arrival home from school, and unloading from the car, someone (ahem… a child) did not fully close their door when they got out of the car. Another someone (another child) had turned off the dome light, so I had no idea that the car sat there all weekend with a door not quite closed. And a long weekend at that. So when I got into the car on Monday to go to the movie, the car wouldn’t start.
Luckily we have a spare car – an almost 20 year old vehicle that we inherited from the Husband’s parent – so I used that car for a few days. But then on Wednesday, I take the ten year old to her morning piano lesson in the spare car. I drop her, take the other two kids with me to pick up breakfast sandwiches (our Wednesday morning bribe to get the kids in the car by 7:06am), then come back to sit in front of the piano teacher’s house while the lesson finished up. The ten year old comes out, gets into the car and then …. the car doesn’t start. Cue my huge cry of disbelieving frustration. I cannot believe I have two dead batteries in two different cars in two days. I call the Husband at work and he comes and jumps the car, takes the four year old to school so I don’t have to turn the car off again, and tells me to go on a nice long drive. I have about 45 minutes before the ten year old needs to be at school, so we take a nice long drive.
Then that evening when I get home, we jump my car and I go on another nice long drive.
So jumping…
I don’t know if it’s just been hard getting back into a routine with COVID closures and snow days and what not, but this week has felt really unmoored. I was driving down the freeway on the way to the ten year old’s school and it struck me – I feel like a frog jumping from lily pad to lily pad, with scarce time to linger and catch my breath. Every day is a mad dash from one school drop off to another to a toddler activity to home for lunch to back in the car for pick up from one school than another. But really, I just want to sit on my lily pad and watch the flies go by.
I think maybe also the weather has something to do with this sense of body constantly in motion. It’s been in the mid 20s all week, which it makes it a little too cold for me to really slow down and linger outside, even though outside is where I often get my energy. At that temperature, with no snow to play in, I’ve discovered my outdoor limit with the baby is about 45 mins. I think I clocked only 9 hours outside this week. But even still, we did go on some beautiful 45 minute walks – nice pauses between lily pad jumping.
I was on the hunt for more of the County’s Selfie Stands, so I took the baby for a walk on a trail around a lake. The county website said that there was a stand on this trail, but we didn’t find it. We did, however, see lots of geese – noisy creatures in their V formations, that swooped above our heads and then landed on the frozen lake. Turns out the selfie stand was at the end of the trail, but a fallen tree in our path had discouraged us from making it all the way there. Now that I know where it is, though, we will have to return.
Geese in Winter.
I actually had two failed selfie stand excursions this week. The second one was at a park, and I’m pretty sure the stand isn’t there even though the website says there is. But we did get this cool picture of a hollow tree:
Another day, I tried to take the baby to a playground, but it was too cold for her to be interested in playing on the equipment, so we went for a walk around the park. The grounds around the park is prone to flooding, and there were some beautiful ice puddles. I found the variety of shapes and lines mesmerizing. The baby was fascinated by the effects of her stick on the ice, and the cracking sounds and patterns that she could make.
Ice patterns on the ground.
Cracking ice
Later in the week, I did finally manage to locate a selfie stand. This one was on the site of a house and garden that I hadn’t been to before. The site was once a private residence but is now part of the County Parks system. The house and gardens sit on five acres of land in a quite wealthy residential neighborhood, and it was almost like visiting someone’s private estate gardens. Right now, everything was all bare and bramble, but there were potential flowers. I’ve made a note to come back to see how these tightly close buds will open to become magnolia and azaleas come warmer weather.
Magnolia
winter garden
Other things of note this week:
The Husband cooked dinner all week again, and I found time to practice playing the concertina. I can now play a C major scale and a G major scale. I’m realizing that the 20 button concertina is perhaps better for playing chords and accompanying oneself while singing, rather than more melodic endeavors. So I’ve decided that before March 11th, when my rental period is up, I want to be able to sing “Dear Theodosia” from Hamilton while accompanying myself on the concertina.
Speaking of Dear Theodosia… because I’m driving the oldest kid to school these days rather than catching the 8:15a bus, we have an extra 45 minutes in the morning to chill at home. The other day after breakfast we had a bit of time and the four year old asked if we could sing Dear Theodosia, so I found some music online and we sang it together. It was such a beautiful perfect little moment in the pause before the chaos of getting out the door.
A great podcast conversation I listened to this week was this Fresh Air Interview with Kal Penn – I thought he had a lot of really beautiful things to say about being a child of Indian immigrants, and being an Indian actor in Hollywood. He had a striking anecdote about trying to convince a director that he shouldn’t play a part with an Indian accent, noting that he thought it was important the other Indian kids should get to see themselves on tv as Americans and not as caricatures. The director refused, and Penn notes: “I think it’s a bit of a misnomer that racism only comes from ignorance; it can also come from a conscious maintenance of power and a desire to keep people down.” Growing up, I always felt that being blond was the ideal because that is what you see in mainstream media, and Penn’s anecdote really hit close to home.
Conversation with the four year old: 4 year old: Can you read me Green Eggs and Ham? Me: I don’t really like Green Eggs and Ham. 4 year old: It’s not about you liking Green Eggs and Ham.
What We Ate:
Saturday: Grilled pork tenderloin with roasted asparagus, green beans and potatoes. It was the birthday of the Husband’s father, who had passed away five years ago. On his birthday we always try to have a meal that he would have liked. There is something really fun about grilling when it is 20 degrees outside.
Sunday: Leftovers and apple pie.
Monday: Parsnip Soup.
Tuesday: I can’t remember, but it involved leeks and lemons and maybe fish? The Husband had borrowed a stack of cookbooks from the library and this recipe came from a Mediterranean cookbook.
Wednesday: Sweet and Sour Pork and Broccoli
Thursday: Broccoli Pasta Bake.
Friday: pizza and Sense and Sensibility. I saw this movie in the theatre when it came out in 1995, a year that was full of wonderful Austen adaptations, and I love it so much. I’ve watched it many times, and I partly picked the movie because we’re trying to watch movies from our own DVD collection. This time through the movie, I was stuck by how beautifully framed so many of the shots were, creating such a sense of intimacy in every scene. I had never noticed before, but the scene where Elinor tells Edward that Colonel Brandon has offered him a job is shot in almost one long take, as if the tension between the two almost lovers is too fragile to break up by switching camera angles.
Last weekend was a long weekend, and it felt like a good combination of lazy and productive and fun.
The “productive” was clearing out a mountain of baby clothes from the guestroom – which we currently call the multi-purpose room since it houses the guest bed, the baby’s pjs and changing table, the Husband’s seldom used work from home set up, my concertina, and all our winter coats and snow pants, and whatever random thing that doesn’t have a home. But my mother is coming in a few weeks to help with the kids when I start my next gig, so we need to make the room suitable for her.
There is something a little sad about boxing up the baby clothes to pass along to friends – the acknowledging that I’m done having babies (physically if not mentally) and that others get the joy of little baby cuddles. But I realized that just shoving the clothes in the attic was delaying the inevitable. So I sorted and packed and kept a few things in a bin I labelled “nostalgia” and then texted my friends with new babies to see if they needed clothes.
“Productive” was also going for two runs, even though the weather was in the low 30s. I had read somewhere that running makes the temperature feel ten degrees warmer, so with that in mind, I decided to brave the cold. I put on my wool and silk underwear and headed out. I’m still very very slow and running intervals rather than longer stretches, but it feels good to be moving and out in the air.
I passed this charming lone glove on my run – clearly a lost object that someone had placed on a branch in hopes that its owner would come looking for it. I love how it kind of poked out from behind the tree, waving at me while I ran past.
friendly hello.
“Lazy” was hanging out watching football and basketball and eating popcorn for dinner and playing with our trucks and the Swedish climbing wall and deciding that the freezing rain was enough reason to let the ten year old skip swim clinic and just sit at home and watch football and eat the apple pie which the Husband made.
This latter was definitely not lazy on his part, but it was his first attempt at apple pie. Saturday would have been his father’s birthday, and he always made apple pie for the holidays. When we accidentally got a bag of granny smith apples in our grocery delivery, the Husband decided that he was going to honor his father by making an apple pie. It turned out really well! And whereas my apple pies always seem to come out with a soggy bottom, the Husband’s did not. I’m so proud of him!
Also maybe lazy was going on a winter walk. There had been snow forecast, but it turned out to be a mild dusting which quickly turned to icy slush and mud. Since we had spent the previous day hunkered inside, I decided we were going to go for a morning walk. I made the poor decision to wear my sneakers, along with the four year old, forgetting that there is some patches on our walk that has truly terrible drainage and then had to carry him over some large icy puddles. Note to self: just wear the boots.
And “Fun” was taking the ten year old to see West Side Story at the AFI Theatre. I love West Side Story. One summer, I was stage managing at an opera festival and my show was performed in rep with a production of West Side Story that was so so so good. Like I started crying from the moment Tony and Maria met in the gym because there was something so beautifully fatalistic yet full of life about that production. I don’t usually gush to directors, but at the opening night party, I cornered the director and gushed.
When I was in high school, or maybe college, I can’t remember, I somehow got my hands on a cassette tape of the original Broadway Cast Album of West Side Story. I can’t recall what I was doing at the time, or where I was going, but the commute was exactly the same length as the A side of the tape – from the brassy opening bars of the prologue to the romantic hopefulness of “One Hand, One Heart.” Every day, as I drove from home to work (or maybe school), I listened to Side A. I feel like there was something wrong with my tape deck that I couldn’t just flip the tape over, so I would just rewind the tape and listen to side A again. And it was kind of magical and perfect because twice a day in my car, Maria and Tony met, fell in love, and pledged their troth. I never moved on the the Rumble or its tragic outcome, or to Anita’s anger and Maria’s desperate love or the hopeless hopefulness of “Somewhere.” There was just this perfect little story of two kids from opposite sides falling in love.
So my love for West Side Story is longstanding and when I saw that the movie was finally being released, I knew I was going to have to see it somehow. (Somewhere…) I also thought it would be a great mother-daughter date since the ten year old loves musicals too. There’s that line in the book “Nothing to See Here” where the main character says something to the effect of parenting being showing kids what you love and hoping they love it too. This was absolutely that kind of excursion. (Spoiler alert: She loved “America” but though the Rumble too scary. “There’s a reason that this movie is PG 13!” she said, emphasis on the 13. )
Even pre-COVID I didn’t go to the movies much – maybe two or three times a year. During COVID – I think the ten year old went to a movie birthday party last summer where one of her classmates rented out the whole theatre, but that’s pretty much been it for movies in theatre. To be honest, I was a little on the fence about whether I thought this was going to be a good idea. I mean there’s the whole COVID and gathering in large groups thing, but also… the story doesn’t really have a happy ending. But I asked her if she would want to go and she said yes.
On the movie theatre’s website, patrons have to to reserve their seats when they buy tickets, so I could look at the seating chart and get an idea of how crowded the theater would be. It didn’t look like there were a lot of tickets being sold – and I had heard that the movie wasn’t doing that well at the box office. Given that the seating chart looked pretty empty and that they required proof of vaccination or a negative PCR test and masks in order to see a film, I figured that going to the movies was not the riskiest thing that we could do right now. But even still, I was somewhat relieved when the movie started and I looked around and counted maybe twelve people in the theatre. It’s so strange to have to do these kinds of risk calculations for something that used to be a typical casual date night activity, but I guess that’s life in COVID times.
The movie itself was wonderful. I though the new script by Tony Kushner brought some thoughtful backstory and details to the story. And I loved how gritty yet beautiful everything and everyone was. And the score, and hearing it played by a full orchestra. And the dancing… I love big dance numbers with choreography that tells a story as well as showcases how incredible the human body can be when it moves. And when many human bodies move together, it’s even more amazing. Every move was so deft and natural.
And there were definitely tears for me. I’ve always found “Somewhere” somewhat problematic in the stage show because while the song is beautiful, it kind of pulls the action away from the stage and story. But in the film, I thought they found such a moving solution for the song, one that had me in tears. I actually was in tears for a lot of the movie. Mostly during that “B” side of the tape that I never listened to all those years ago. Which is probably a good thing because driving while crying is tough.
This was the week of COVID test distribution. All public school students were sent home on Monday with a rapid test kit. (Well, all schools that were still meeting in person; eleven schools in our district had transitioned to distance learning because of their COVID numbers, though I understand test kits were available for those families to pick up at the school.) Our school had a Zoom COVID test party, which I thought was a cute idea. The Principal led everyone though how to use their test kits, with a 15 minute dance party while we waited for the results. The nine year old’s test was negative. I had a feeling that it would be, but given that the four year old had no symptoms and he tested positive, I’ve given up any expectations on how COVID spreads.
Nose swabs!
The County also started handing out test kits at Public Libraries. I love that the public libraries are seen as the right hub for the distribution to happen. The first two days, I drove by a couple libraries and the lines were quite long, so I didn’t stop. In fact, on Tuesday they ran out of tests before the end of the distribution window. Wednesday, I got there half an hour after the window opened and managed to get several kits because they gave two to each resident, including children. The line was quite long when I arrived, but it moved quickly and we were in and out in about ten minutes. I’ve been hearing stories about how there are people selling on Craigslist these COVID test kits that city/county governments are distribution for free … which I find really angering.
In other COVID news, on Tuesday evening, we were told that the the four year old’s class would be closed because of an exposure in his classroom. The school was initially somewhat vague about re-opening plans because while the state has approved a five day quarantine and negative test for kids to return to class after an exposure, our County still mandates a 10 day quarantine period. So I girded my loins for another ten days at home with the four year old. But then, the next evening, the school and wrote, saying since the four year old had had COVID within the past ninety days (seventeen days, to be exact) he was allowed to return to the classroom. Hooray! I had already made plans with him for Thursday, so he went back on Friday, one of two kids in class. I asked him how it was being in such a small class, and he said he liked it. Though he added, “But sometimes my head said to me, ‘What is going on?'”
I hear you, little guy. Some days it feels like such a mental and emotional roller coaster having to navigate COVID.
In happier side, my oldest turned ten last week. Wow. I look at her and wonder how we got here so soon and how she got to be so tall and have so many opinions. A decade seems to me to be a long time … surely it hasn’t been a decade since she was born? And then other days, I think, if she’s been around so long, why haven’t I figured this whole parenting thing out yet? Isn’t ten years enough time to figure things out? But I have to admit that my kid still confounds me every single day, and every single day I’m convinced that I’m bungling things.
Anyhow, at her request, we had an ice cream cake and Chipotle and probably a little too much screentime. The day after her birthday was a half day of school, so the Husband took a half day off and we took her skating. Or rather the ten year old and four year old and I went skating and the Husband watched the baby and cheered us on. It was the four year old’s first time skating and I thought he did okay! And he got lots of help from his sister. He was also super excited by the Zamboni as it is featured in the book that we got him for Christmas, “Unconventional Vehicles“.
After the four year old got tired of skating, the ten year old and I skated together for the rest of our time, gliding lazily around the rink, trying to avoid the groups of teenagers and middle schoolers. Originally this was supposed to be a mommy daughter date, and she was disappointed that her little brother had to tag along because of his school closure, so I’m glad we got a good half hour on the ice just the two of us.
skating scenes
Some kid adventures this week:
Both the baby and the four year old began the winter sessions of swim lessons this week. Winter swim lessons are certainly harder to navigate than summer swim lessons. In the summer, you can put them in their swim suits before you leave the house and they can ride home slightly wet, sitting on a towel. But in the winter, there’s all those layer of clothes and the dressing and undressing and undressing and dressing. But the kids have fun and I do want them to learn to swim sooner rather than later. Though to be honest, I feel like they’re going to need more than once a week lessons to truly learn. I think the ten year old really learned to swim independently the summer she had daily swim lessons for two weeks.
A new to us park: It was quite cold (for us) this week. No snow, but temperatures in the low 30s to mid 20s. I only made it outside for 13 hours this week (17 hours a week is the average to get to 1000 hours for the year. But I figure things will even out in the summer…) Still, I was determined to explore a little bit outside, so Monday day after school drop off, I took the baby to an “adventure playground” that was a little bit of a drive from home, but not too far from the ten year old’s school. I think the only thing truly “adventure” about this playground was the climbing wall, but there was a castle and a pirate ship which were perfect for imaginative adventures. And lots of slides and swings and pretend cars.
Dragon guards the castle.
Game nights: On nights when we manage to clean up dinner by 7:15p or so, we’ve taken to playing games as a family. For Christmas we added Sleeping Queens, King of Tokyo and Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza to our game cupboard. Even the four year old can play these games, which is great because for a while I felt bad that he was left out of game night. We help him strategize sometimes, and I’ve loved seeing how he’s coming to understand how each game is played. It’s been really fun, and we laugh a lot. Yes, sometimes there is pouting and tantrums when someone doesn’t win, but we’re working on those life lessons, I hope.
What We Ate: The Husband decided that he wanted to cook dinner this week, which was kind of great. It made me realize that a) I do like cooking and have been somewhat a control freak about it, and b) cooking takes up a lot of time, and I have so much more free time in the evenings when I don’t have to cook! The kid’s Swedish Climbing Wall has been great during this pre-dinner time – I can sit in the room while they climb it, but I only have to interact minimally so I can read or do some work while they play.
Saturday: Hmmm… can’t remember.
Sunday: The Husband made some kind of stir fry.
Monday: Spicy tofu tacos and Napa Cabbage Slaw. This was really tasty – one of those meals where you realize that it’s the sauce that’s important, not what you put it on.
Tuesday: Chipotle, as requested by the ten year old for her birthday.
Wednesday: Dumplings and french fries, take out. Not the healthiest, but it was supposed to be a post-skating snack and then we realized afterwards that we were too full to eat a proper dinner. There was definitely a lot of birthday slacking going on this week.
Thursday: Chicken Broccoli Stir Fry with Rice.
Friday: Pizza – the Husband even put anchovies on mine! And we watched Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. I feel like I spent the whole movie staring at Keanu Reeves with a little bit of wonder at how different he is in this movie from really anything else he’s done.
For January I signed up for 64 Million Artists’ January Challenge. Every day in January, they send out a prompt for a quick creative challenge. I’m posting some of my output here.
Find a flower. You might find it outside, inside, in a book, magazine or online. Consider the colour, shapes and textures of the flower. Is it rough, soft, rotting, smooth…or anything else? Capture the essence and colours of your flower in a picture, sketch or haiku.
January rose. Blazing solitary pink When will the snow come?
Snow mirroring clouds, Soft white banks of fluff and cold with blue sky between.
I spent much of the weekend working. Yay work! I had gotten a call to do another supertitle gig, this time for a vocal recital. The contract had me create the PowerPoint for the supertitles in addition to running them during the recital. Creating the PowerPoint and putting the slide placements in my score ended up taking much of Friday night and all day Saturday. At some point, after I was deep into typing the slides for the first half of the concert, the Husband, data organization genius, figured out a way to take the translations that I was given and put them directly into the PowerPoint. It involved moving the data set (as he called the lines of text) into an Excel file, then into a Word document merge file, and then finally into the PowerPoint. While it seemed complicated, it was loads less time consuming that typing everything out. This is probably incredibly nerdy, but the Husband and I had much discussion about whether it was better to proof your data set then merge, or to merge the given data set and then correct the final PowerPoint. It is so interesting to me that even after twelve years of marriage I’m still discovering ways in which the Husband and I think differently, especially on such a conceptual level.
Anyhow, the recital itself was magical. The first half was songs by queer American and British composers, and many of the songs were favorites of mine. The second half was songs by Spanish and Latino composers and full of fun and feeling. I had forgotten how much I love a song recital – the simplicity of a singer and a pianist and the music they want to share. No sets, no costumes… just music and text and heartfelt emotions of that moment.
One of the songs in the first half was a song written by Lee Hoiby, called “Where the Music Comes From.” I had sung it when I was in college, and judging from YouTube it is extremely popular in college song recitals. Nonetheless it is one of my favorite songs; I loved the piece for it’s elegant long lines, full of hope and yearning and joy. I get the sense that in the classical music world, songs that are so unabashedly melodic are somewhat out of style – critics tend to dismiss them as artless pastiche pieces or overly sentimental. Maudlin, even. I would definitely say that “Where the Music Comes From” is sentimental, and sentimentality is perhaps frowned upon these days. People want smart and ironic and clever.
(Also, I just noticed that I had always sung the third verse incorrectly… there is a phrase of music that is just different enough from the previous two verses that you need to pay attention or you’ll sing it wrong. I had an internal mortifying moment wondering why my voice teacher and art song coach never said anything to me about this and let me perform it in a recital incorrectly!)
There is something strange about hearing someone else sing a piece that you are so intimately familiar with that it is carved into the heart of your memory. When I heard it in the recital on Sunday, I got goosebumps because it sounded familiar and new all at the same time. But – and here is the wonder of this particular singer – I have loved this song for over twenty years now, and he made me re-think the piece. (I’ve put the text below.) I had always thought of the three verses as three different wishes, but there was something about the way this singer sang the song that made me realize, that actually, it’s the same wish – the song is a wish for a place where all these things can come together.
I want to be where the music come from, Where the clock stops, where it’s now. I want to be with the friends around me, Who have found me, who show me how. I want to sing to the early morning, See the sunlight melt the snow: And, oh, I want to grow.
I want to wake to the living spirit Here inside me where it lies. I want to listen till I can hear it, Let it guide me and realize That I can go with the flow unending, That is blending, that is real; And oh, I want to feel.
I want to walk in the earthly garden, Far from cities, far from fear. I want to talk to the growing garden, To the devas, to the deer, And to be one with the river flowing, Breezes blowing, sky above. And, oh, I want to love.
There is so much about the text that speaks to me, but I think listening to this now, during a pandemic where isolation is a survival tactic, I really grasp on to the imagery of needing to surround oneself with joyful nurturing things, whether it be friends or nature or even just thoughts – and being able to recognize and merge these things into your life.
