Friday Recap + what we ate

The baby started walking in earnest this week. Which was quite a bit of surprise for us since the other kids didn’t walk until they were 14 months old.

Even more delightful was when she realized that one of the perks of being biped was that she could move around the house… while. eating. food!!!!!!

You could see the light of discovery in her face as she toddled around the kitchen clutching her half eaten plum.

The Husband says, “We now have a toddler.” My poor heart says, “No! not yet!”

Yesterday morning, I came down to the kitchen to find a Jackson Pollack-esque trail of milk swirling from the kitchen into the dining room, culminating in a puddle of milk on a very special stool that had belonged to my father in law in college. I had to admire the artistic swoops and dots, even as I banned the three year old from walking and drinking at the same time. We have long used the Thermos Funtainers with straws as a spill proof option for milk and water, but I guess spill proof doesn’t account for when your three year old turns it upside down while open.

Tuesday night we played Parcheesi. Well, the Husband, eight year old and I played. The three year old threw dice randomly and moved pieces. We pretended to him that he was playing, but he was having his own little game. I’m on the hunt for games that we all can play. He is borderline able to play Uno. He can play the right cards, he just has not concept of winning or the object of the game.

This was a rainy week, so we didn’t have an adventure, or indeed as many long walks as we normally did. Also, I had finally recognized that the eight year old needed some interaction and enrolled her in a theater class. Next week, I’ve scheduled her for a drawing class. I had resisted at first because I wasn’t sure what she would get out of it other than more time on a screen, but then I realized that it gave me more undivided time with the three year old (while the baby napped), so I guess that’s good thing.

We also just tie-dye some shirts. And a pillow case. And an old onesie. Basically anything I could find in the house that was 100 percent cotton and white. I had ordered some white shirts on Amazon for the project but most of them fit exactly no one in the family, hence the scrounging for things to dye. I think it will be a lesson in patience to wait until tomorrow to see the results. It was my first experience with tie dying and it was about as messy as I thought it would be.

Right now, the eight year old is folding laundry as she watches Turandot streaming on the Metropolitan Opera’s website. Earlier this week, I set up a Zoom play date for her and when we were trying to pick a day, I wrote to the other parent, “She needs to check the opera schedule first. I can’t believe I just wrote that.” I’m so grateful that the Met has made these operas available. It is a good incentive for getting my kid to do chores.

What we ate this week:

Saturday: Kielbasa (from the Kielbasa Factory – amazing place) and coleslaw. Super easy dinner – pretty much toss kielbasa on griddle, mix dressing and toss with chopped cabbage. It took less than half and hour to get to the table. I think I want to dub Saturdays “Simple Saturdays” and strive for these low maintenance type meals.

Sunday: The Husband called and audible and we had Five Guys Burgers and Fries for dinner. I think one of the foods that I miss the most is french fries.

Monday: Zucchini Boats. I baked them a little longer than stated so that they were soft enough for the baby to eat.

Tuesday: Tofu Banh Mi from Dinner Illustrated

Wednesday: BLTs, made with bacon from the Kielbasa Factory

Thursday: Falafel Hash (a recipe from the Purple Carrot, a vegan meal kit, in its Mark Bittman days), and Greek Salad. Eaten in wraps.

Friday: will be pizza, as always, though I’ve also had the prospect of a meatball sub waved in front of me….

Useful Stage Management Skills in the Real World: Lightwalking

Scarpia’s view from his death position.

Usually I’m the one who puts the 3 year old to bed and the Husband puts both the baby and the eight year old to bed. Last night we decided to switch and I put the baby to bed. I haven’t done this in a while because it doesn’t go well for me. My method of putting her down involves nursing her to sleep and then being stuck underneath a sweaty sleeping baby because a) she is super sensitive and wakes whenever I move, b) I am too short to reach over the crib railing for a smooth baby touchdown to the mattress, and c) she has my nipple firmly clenched in between her teeth.

The Husband, however, has some crazy daddy magic technique that gets her to go down with minimal amount of crying. Except in the cases where I let her nap too late into the afternoon or she falls asleep during her post dinner nursing session. Then all bets are off and the baby gets to hang out and watch 30 Rock with mom and dad. These incidences are very rare. Dad is that good.

Anyhow, last night, after the Husband explained his flip and settle technique of getting the baby into the crib, as well as his very precise 10 minute walk, 10 minute rock routine, he left me with the baby.

So I got to do something I haven’t done since last October. I got to walk aimlessly around in the dark, trying to keep a little tyrant happy as I watch the minutes of my life tick by. Also known as lightwalking. Okay, so I wasn’t really lightwalking. But it sure felt like it.

Lightwalking, for those of you unfamiliar with the phrase, is when, during the technical period of a show, people stand onstage so that the lighting designer and the director can have bodies to look at as they create the lighting looks. Now who these bodies are vary by company. Sometimes they are volunteers who come and do it for cookies, coffee, and dress rehearsal passes. Sometimes it’s an intern or two or three. Sometime it’s a stack of chairs. At my home company, it’s the assistant stage managers.

Now, I love my job. But there is one part of it I don’t love to do. Okay there are two: 1) I hate having to tell the chorus to be quiet, and 2) I really don’t love light walking. It is physically tiring to have to stand still for minutes (or hours) on end (though a lot of stage managers are good at letting the light walkers know when they can relax and sit down for a second). Also, while often I bring a book or something, a lot of times I can’t really do much while light walking because someone is looking at you – or rather what the light is doing around you – so if you move, a voice from the darkness of the theatre will say, “Can you please look up?” Mentally you have to keep yourself engaged because once in a while the stage manager will send you on an errand to find the crew, or make some photo copies, or some such. So you stand there, a human mannequin, and just let the thoughts run through your head. It’s usually some monologue like, “Do I need to update the paperwork for this evening’s rehearsal? I should follow up on that note. Did I move that Post-It in my book? What’s for lunch in the Canteen? I forgot to tell the Husband that there are diapers in the wash. I have to pay the bills. Hmmm … what is this spike mark here and do we still need it?” and so on.

Faust groundcloth. Look at all those spike marks! Yes, we need all of them.

So over the years I have learned to embrace the special part of my job that is lightwalking. I’ve learned to enjoy my book one page at a time. Sometimes I’ll bring a crossword puzzle, or my fellow ASM will bring trivia cards which we can read to each other over the special ASM channel on our headsets. That latter is actually a fun bonding experience. I’ve learned how fun it is to get to be on parts of the set and recreate stage pictures (Tosca jump, anyone?), even to pretend to be a chorus of sixty with just two other ASMs. I’ve come to love the quiet of lighting session – this loud quiet of work being done, punctuated by the tapping of buttons as the electrician programs the light board, the gentle murmur of voices as the artistic staff contemplates the visual details, the quiet conversations of the crew as they wait in the wings for one of us to ask them to move a chair, or a wall, the soft scratchy brush strokes of the painter as they do touch up on the set, with their softly apologetic reminders of where not to step . I’ve learned to delight in looking up close at our sets – marveling at how the peeling painted foam looks like beautiful medieval rocks from the audience. I’ve learned to brace myself when someone calls, “Going dark!”, ready to have the lights all go out and be enveloped in velvety faux night. And I’ve learn to be really Zen about standing in the dark, to savor being onstage and looking out and appreciate how fleeting the work we do is. The gentle knowledge that standing on this green spike mark, this is where I am meant to be now, and this is what I am doing now, and there is nothing more important I can be doing for the show right now than standing right there, looking into that blinding light.

And last night, as I was trying to get the baby to sleep, I had this realization that this was my COVID version of lightwalking. This walking back and forth in the dark, the quiet murmurs of night time, this holding something ephemeral yet full of life in my arms, this protective possessiveness, this opportunity to be in the moment, in a walking mediation, even this living in fear of failure and tears while being slightly bored… this was where I was, and this was where I needed to be at that moment.

I guess I’m not going anywhere at the moment.

Books Read in July 2020

I actually got quite a lot of reading done in July. I had books that I was really excited to read with some really powerful, forward moving narratives.

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett – 6h 24m. Novel about light skinned black twins, one of whom leaves their small Louisiana town and passes for white, and the other who returns home with a dark skinned daughter. It’s an intergenerational story. There is so much to unpack in this book about how our past is part of us, even when we re-invent ourselves. Particularly heavy is the idea of what burdens can you escape, and which ones you carry with you always especially when you are black. I also found the relationships between the characters so fascinating, and how the most “successful” couples were the ones that couldn’t get married.

Lady Be Good by Meridith Duran – 5h 32m. So one of my not so guilty pleasures is reading romance novels, mostly historical romances. I like the escapism of knowing there is a going to be happily ever after at the end, and the big emotions, that seem out of date to write about these days. I do tend to be pretty picky about which romance novels I read, though. The writing has to be smart, but not too anachronistic, and the plots not too ridiculous. The women have to be able to save themselves and the heroes can be a little tortured, but not so much that they are unkind or cliched. I had actually read this book before, but I didn’t remember that until about a third of the way through the book. But it still holds up. It’s about Lilah who works at an auction house, and Viscount Palmer, who strikes a deal with her to help him catch a crazy stalker. The plot is just minimal enough of a framework for some really great characters.

The Secret Commonwealth by Philip Pullman – audio book read by Michael Sheen. The is the second book in the Book of Dust Trilogy. Like all second books in a trilogy, it is a little unsatisfying in that you still don’t know where the story is going. But it was a good adventure and some really beautiful musings about growing up and growing apart from those you love.

Quozl by Alan Dean Foster – Hard copy, so no reading stats. Over ten years ago, my husband and I did a book swap of our favorite books as teenagers. I had him read Jane Eyre; he handed me this book. I finally got around to reading this dog-eared copy. Well, mostly. The first chapter is missing half its pages. (But then I asked myself – are the first fifteen pages of a book really that important?). Anyway it’s a story of a group of aliens that come to America and secretly settle in Idaho. It was slow to start (which I guess explains why it took me ten years to read it), but the story ended up being quite far reaching. It’s a little unsubtle in it’s criticism of human foibles, but was entertaining nonethe less. I realize that one thing I like about hard copies of books is being able to physically hold my progress in my hands.

Last Boat out of Shanghai: The Epic Story of the Chinese who Fled Mao’s Revolution by Helen Zia – 11h 37m. I picked up this book because I wanted to read a book about some part of Asian history. This non fiction book tells the story of four people who grow up as Shanghai falls to the Communists, and about each of their survival paths. I am embarrassed to say that even though my parents are from Taiwan, I know very little about the history of how Chiang Kai Shek came to bring his soldiers there and terrorized the people of the island. That is actually a very small part of the book, but I found it fascinating. I was struck by how all these events are not so far removed from us today. I mean the events in the book took place around the time my mother was born. Also – funny is that despite the different paths the people in the book took to survival, they all somehow ended up in the United States eventually. I’ve long been fascinated with stories of immigration and the things that lead people to uproot their lives and start somewhere new.

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood – 6h 58m. Sequel to the Handmaid’s Tale. This was definitely less cerebral than the Handmaid’s Tale, much more plot driven. I could definitely tell that it was written, as Atwood says, as a response to people wondering what happens at the end of Handmaid’s Tale. But I feel like that question mark at the end of the first book was what made it so successfully unsettling.

All Our Wrongs Today by Elan Mastai – Audio book read by author. An average (or really slightly less than average) son of a brilliant scientist living in a slick Utopian version of the present uses his father’s time machine to travel back in time and ends up changing the course of things to our very pedestrian present. It was trippy and a little mind bending with the concepts of time travel and changing futures, but it had a lot of humour, heart and beautiful things in it, about realizing how the things that are important should be important no matter what world we live in. It was a fun listen, and the end really choked me up.

Tough Monday

Yesterday was hard. I was trying to get the kids out for a walk before a 10am online camp for the 8 year old. There was much resistance from the 3 year old who didn’t want to go but also didn’t want to be left behind. There was probably a good deal of exasperation, cajoling, and yelling on my part. Finally, when we were literally half way out the door, the 3 year old desperately wanted his hat. So I locked the stroller on the steps and turned back inside to get it.

Only to see out of the corner of my eye as the stroller slowly rolled off the back steps, tilt backwards and crash down the three steps, landing on it’s back with the baby still buckled in. It was horrifying. And scary. And there was screaming and crying from everyone – baby, 3 year old, me.

We didn’t get out on our much needed walk after all.

The baby was fine. She has a doozy of a scratch on her head. But she nursed and we called the pediatrician and they told us what to look out for and gave us some good reassurances. Basically if baby vomitted more than once and was lethargic, we should call back. Also if “she just doesn’t seem like herself.”

There is something reassuring in this last directive – it reminds me that ultimately we as parents have to learn to know our child and trust our instincts about them.

The baby is fine. She is back to being her happy exploratory self. A little clingy and needy, but that is who she is at this stage.

The stroller is also fine. I was really worried that it wouldn’t be fine. This is actually the second time I’ve had it go down some steps. The first time, when the eight year old was a baby, there was no one in it and the frame broke. But the folks at UppaBaby were able to fix it up. Our eight year old stroller, bought as a steeply discounted floor model, continues to be a workhorse for our family.

And then the rest of the day happened. The eight year old went to online camp, the three year old ran feral. I fell asleep, sewed some masks, made dinner while the Husband watched the kids. The rains started. We got dinner on the table early, the kids helped Husband clean up, and we had time to play UNO before bedtime.

So then in the end it was a pretty ok day. I read somewhere that all that matters about a book is how the last chapter makes you feel. I guess some days are like that too. Funny how at 9:30am the day was the worst day ever. And by 9:30pm the kids were in bed, and it was a pretty good day.

Ten Months

Sneaky fruit fiend!

The baby turned ten months old last week.

She is happy and curious. She stands independently and can toddle while clutching someone’s fingers. Her siblings love to take her little hands and walk her around, and it especially warms my heart to see the little human chain of three toddling slowly. The older kids seem as enchanted by her development as I am. I wonder if watching a baby learn to walk ever gets old?

Love those chubby toddling legs!

She is starting to get into things, and loves to unload – laundry baskets of folded clothes, drawers of measuring cups, recycling bins of paper and empty containers. The bathroom trash bin. Yeah, that last one grosses me out a little bit. The other day, when my back was turned, she went into our CSA box, found a peach and devoured it, leaving a clean little pit on the floor. It made her so happy and I was somewhat delighted and proud of her ability to forage. With the other two kids, I installed cabinet locks at this age, but I haven’t done that this time around. I think I’m just wondering if I can get through this phase without the extra work…. (We do keep under the sink locked, though.)

AAAAHHHH! I blame her for this too. She clearly does not understand the value of TP.

She eats fruit endlessly and nurses constantly. I think she might be teething. She hates being in the high chair longer than it takes to stave off hunger.

The Husband is the only one who can put her to bed. But she sleeps mostly through the night -meaning 6:00am now, sometimes 6:30am. (Through the night used to mean 5am. It’s funny how relative it feels. Like how last month five hours of straight sleep felt substantial!) This last week there have been a few night wakings, but perhaps, again, related to teething.

I’ve been thinking about where each of the other kids were at ten months, and how each of our kids have had such different experiences with childcare, mostly because of the different work/life situation we had each time. Someone once commented told me that even when you say children grow up in the same household, it’s not really true because a family’s situation changes and every child is at any given age, in fact, growing up in a different household than their siblings had at that age.

The oldest was in an in home daycare starting at 11 weeks old, transitioning to a larger daycare center when she was about a year and half old. Through all that, I was still travelling for work, and she periodically had a patchwork of care when she travelled with us. Usually in Colorado my husband would be able to telework and he came out too. Or one of my parents would come. We also found a daycare in Colorado that had drop in days which we used and there were a handful of sitters. She also spent a couple weeks in California with my parents and went to a daycare by them. It was definitely stressful to figure it all out.

The middle child was just starting daycare at ten months old. Before that, my parents watched him, flying in from California to help when I was working. There was one period when we hired a sitter for a couple weeks, the one time I took him on a gig out of town. Just this past year, when he was 2.5 he started at a larger daycare, but that only lasted seven months before COVID sent him home. We declined to re-enroll him when his child care center opened back up.

And the baby… well I’m not sure when she will get to see daycare. So far, my parents watched her while I was working, and we hired nannies for the few weeks that we didn’t have coverage from my parents.

What to do with our children is foremost in a lot of people’s minds these days and there is no real good solution. In a way, I’m glad that being unemployed has taken away the need to do the risk calculus of sending a three year old to daycare. The financial math of day care costs is so much easier to figure out than trying to weigh what our personal risk tolerance is with the need to work. I’m sure that in the long term being unemployed is going to more detrimental than safely sending our kids back to school, but I feel oddly lucky that the financial choice is easier to make than the health and safety choice as I see other parents grapple with the choice.

Dinner this week – 7/27

Meal planning page in my notebook!

I spend a lot of time thinking about food. If you look at the back of my notebook that I keep in rehearsal, you will find lists of food and meals – breakfasts, lunches, and dinner. This is what I do when rehearsals are slow sometimes – I meal plan.

Aside from the inherent nerdy satisfaction of planning, plotting out our dinners is a practical consideration for me. For one, I hate that forlorn 5:00pm look in the fridge when you wonder how your are going to pull dinner out of your rear with a jar of pickles, a block of tofu, and some shriveled carrots. Also – when I’m working evenings, I like to prep some kind of dinner in the mornings for the Husband and kid to eat when they get home – one thing to take off his plate and a way to make sure vegetables get served (if not always eaten). Another thing – I hate food waste, and if I take the time to look through the fridge and plan the week around what’s in there, less food ends up in the garbage or worm bin.

The meal planning has certainly ratcheted up since quarantine. We are avoiding excessive trips to the grocery store so Husband does the grocery shopping once a week. On Saturday mornings, we sit down and figure out what we need to keep ourselves fed for the week, then off he goes to the store. There is something hunter/gatherer about it to me.

It goes like this (as seen in my notebook above). First I write down what we need to eat up at the top. Then from there I figure out six meals for the week. My two main cookbooks are Dinner Illustrated and Indian Instant Pot Cookbook. I like these books because the recipes are for pretty complete meals; I don’t have to try put together this main and that side with whatever starch. We also keep a running list of favorite meals that I’ll look at too. Friday is always pizza. These days it’s take out pizza since our oven is less than reliable. Then at the bottom of the page, I write what groceries we need.

Once I have the meals picked, I assign them to a day. Monday is usually the least desirable meal – this way, the “meh” meal is early in the week. The Husband makes dinner once or twice – usually on Wednesday or Thursday. Then I try to alternate vegetarian meals and meat meals. Sometimes I also look at the weather so we aren’t running the oven when it is 98 degrees outside. Pre-COVID we also looked at when kids have activities and that would be something fast and simple like an Instant Pot meal, or sandwiches.

So this week:

Saturday: Chicken Salad Sandwiches and Cucumber Tomato Salad

Sunday: Potato Salad and Sausage

Monday: Cauliflower Tacos

Tuesday: Broccoli Chicken Stir Fry

Wednesday: Paneer Birayni

Thursday: Green Beans and Tofu

Friday: Pizza

Of course, some days, things go off the rails and we do plan B. Plan B is usually sandwiches. Sometimes breakfast sandwiches. Which the 8 year old can make. On those days when I feel like I just can’t with the dinner plan, I tell her she “gets” to make dinner (yay!). I turn on the stove for her and go pour myself a cocktail. Ok – I don’t drink, so the cocktail is only metaphorical.

July so far

Someone went through our neighborhood and put flags in everyone’s yard for the Fourth of July. It made me really happy.

So we are two thirds of the way through July. About half way done summer vacation. We celebrated yet another national holiday with just ourselves. The playgrounds have opened up again. Armed with hand sanitizers and masks, I’ve been taking the kids and they are so happy to climb and slide and swing again. Schools have just announced that learning will be online for this first semester. The three year old’s childcare facility re-opened at the beginning of the month, but we chose not to re-enroll him. With no prospect of work for me until next year at the (unlikely) earliest, it just didn’t make financial sense to send him. I’m trying to figure out what that means in terms of socialization and development for him.

I thought I would be more organized about the summer. But it’s been pretty aimless. Here’s the daily routine:

5:00a -ish – Baby wakes and nurses. I stay in bed, drift in and out of sleep. the Husband tried a couple times to get her in the morning and feed her solids, but she’s not into that first thing, I guess.

6a/6:30a – kids awake. The Husband usually takes care of the first round of breakfast and diaper. I usually am up by 6:30a.

7:00a – The Husband ambles downstairs for work. I do second round of breakfast if the kids want. Sometimes I get some journalling or an exercise video in.

8:30/9:00a – I take all three kids out for a walk, or adventure. It’s so hot these days that I try to get us out early. Also this is when the baby takes her first nap.

11:00/12n – home and lunch. Also nurse baby. The Husband comes up from work and does lunch with the kids. Whenever possible I have the 8 year old make her own lunch.

1:00/ 1:30p – begins the epic nap attempt with 3 year old. I’m very much on the fence about this because we are only successful at getting him to nap one or two days a week. So maybe I should give up trying? He is in such a better mood when he does nap, but the whole process takes so much time and struggle. The 8 year old helps with nap time – probably because it involves watching stories on the iPad. So really 1:30 – 3:30p is kind of a free for all – the 8 year old has a to do list that she kind of does, and I try to clean up the kitchen or do something productive. However, a lot of my mental energy is going into seeing if the 3 year old is napping. What is the baby doing? Not quite sure. I’m sure it’s some kind of crawling around and nursing. Really, in the afternoon she’s kind of demoted to appendage status.

3:30p – Husband off work. Sometimes we have happy hour (should do that more often).

4:30p – I start dinner, with the goal to sit down and eat by 6pm with kitchen clean up right after.

7:30/8:00p – Bedtime for 3 year old. The Husband handles bedtime for the baby and the 8 year old.

9:00p – kids in bed. TV/ hobby/ reading time.

way way too late (usually sometime between 1:30a and 2a) – bed time. I try to pump before bed too.

Things that have been working:

Thursday adventures: I’ve been trying to plan an adventure on Thursdays because that’s when I realize that I start to lose my shit. The weekend is in sight, but still so far away and we’ve already spent three days mostly at home doing the same old stuff.

3:15pm pick up time: It is so hard to keep the house tidy throughout the day. So I’ve set an alarm and at 3:15p, we stop what we are doing and pick up the living room.

The Husband taking on lunch time: Gives me a small break and I can cross one or two things off my to do list. Usually computer related. It’s a little difficult to do computer work with the three year old around because he likes to sneak up on me and swipe my screen.

Early dinner: I like having dinner on the table by 6pm. If we eat much later than that, the evening feels rushed.

Some things on my mind:

The FUTURE: So much uncertainty. Unemployment benefits are finite. I’m starting to question my life choices. Also – online school until the end of January. Trying to wrap my mind around that one.

How to be a better stage manager when not stage managing: I’ve never really been very meta about what I do, but I’ve begun to really think about the hard and soft skills involved in my profession. Probably related to the above mentioned questioning of life choices.

Sleep: mostly the baby’s. I can only seem to get her to nap in the stroller or while nursing. I’m savouring the baby snuggles, but I’m worried about creating bad habits.

Screen Time: There are so many amazing things online these days, that I’m having a hard time figuring out what is worth my time. Also likewise for the eight year old.

What to do with the kids all day???? I get them outside in the morning. I keep them fed. I make sure they wash their hands. That’s about it consistently. I feel like I need to set the bar a little higher.

We’ve been spending many hours along this trail and parkway.

Books Read June 2020

I didn’t get as much reading done in June as I had hoped. I think I need to be better at using reading to fill time rather than scrolling the internet. But still, some good reads. I spent much of my June reading life thinking about the advantages that I have and how hard it must be to navigate in a world in which you don’t fit into the dominant image of what a successful person looks like.

White Fragility by Robin D’Angelo – (6h 22m). I had placed this book on my holds list months ago, and ironically it came off my holds list the day George Floyd was killed. I have mixed feelings about this book in that I feel like the people who are likely to read it, probably are those who are already open to its ideas, and thus least likely to need to read it. The concept of the book feels a little like “preaching to the choir.” Also, D’Angelo defines “racism” and “white supremacy” in a way that neutralizes them, I think in an attempt to make them inclusive terms rather than divisive terms. I’m not sure that rhetoric works, though.

Reading this book is likely to be a very personal experience, and I don’t know that it’s a book one should recommend that others read- you kind of have to come to it yourself. I’m not white, but a lot of what D’Angelo writes about does hit home for me both as a POC and as a “model minority”. What I found compelling is how she asks us to recognize white as a race, recognize the implications of there being a dominant culture in this country, and recognize that those in the minority cannot enact change without the help of those in power. I wanted the book to be more useful than it was, though, I guess that actionable items was not the point of the book. It is meant to be a starting point. There was a great reading/ resource list at the back of the book, however.

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin – (time – didn’t track). I remember my brother reading this book when we were little and he raved about it. It was a smart, fun read. More timely than I would have expected.

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson – (3h 31 mins). This time/narrative bending book about three black families in Brooklyn was another hold that came through at a opportune point. Interestingly my friend was talking to me about the Tulsa race riots the day before I started reading this, and the Tulsa race riots played a formative part of the life of one family in this book. Indeed, I think a lot of this book is about how our past influences and informs our present, no matter how much we think we can strike out on our own and leave our family behind. At the same time, it is difficult to overcome generations of systemic racism and challenges without other people having faith in you. As always, when I read books, the way parenthood plays out in them resonate with me the most. I loved this quote, the father’s thoughts at a coming of age ceremony, and the encapsulation of the passage of time and stages:

“But what is the father of the child supposed to do with his hands? His big open hands. Where were they supposed to go when all they wanted was to reach out for his child, hug her, hide her from the world? These hands that learned at seventeen how to snatch smelly diapers away from her tiny body, rub A&D ointment over her rashed behind, hold her util the stinging stopped, until the crying stopped. Hold her- over his shoulder with his massive hand behind her fragile head, then on his chest, in his lap, in his arms, on his back, on his shoulders, his hand on her shoulder as she scooted too fast away from him….”

Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal, narrated by Meera Sayal – Audiobook. Fun listen, though probably a little more racy than I expected, given that I listen to audiobooks a lot around my children. But the plot, involving a woman who gets a job teaching English at her local Sikh community center, alternates heavy and light, ultimately leaning towards heavy. I liked the characters and how the book addresses the invisibility and frustration of older women.

Shrill: Notes from a Loud Woman by Lindy West – (4h, 39m). Funny, but also sad and infuriating. West’s writing – about being fat, about feminism, about how dehumanizing society can be to people who don’t fit a certain mold, namely white and ideally male – is raw, powerful, dramatic, visceral. It was interesting to read Lindy Wests’s book in the current racially charged climate. Much like how racism is rooted in systematic oppression by a dominant culture, there are really strong societal prejudices against people who are overweight that put them at an incredible disadvantage. From concrete things like how things are not built to accommodate large people, and indeed there is no incentive for companies to change that, to the more subtle messaging about how overweight people are undesirable. She also writes some really powerful stuff about the white male culture of comedy and the misogyny it perpetuates. She writes for a more inclusive world, for freedom of choice, for society choosing to be better. It’s a really good book.

“The only answer is decide we’re worth helping.”

Time is all there is

The garden at the Farm Park – I once asked as landscape architect what was the best backyard toy for kids and she said “Loose bits of wood.”

Most mornings, I try to take the kids outside. On a good day, we get out of the house by 9:30a. Sometimes it takes longer, and I find myself getting impatient, anxious that we are wasting time, that we will miss something.

Today we were out the door by 9:15am. And I was really pleased. But then, I thought, what is the rush? I mean, for sure, if we put off the morning walk too long, we get into the uncomfortably hot part of the day. But the difference between being out the door at 9:15am and 10:15am? Not a big deal. The goal these days is all about engaging and occupying the children. The time has to be filled somehow. If it is filled by leisurely jam smeared breakfast and shoe battles rather than fresh air and sunshine, is that worth consternation these days when time is plentiful because commitments are few?

Of course the children would love to have more time to splash in the creek. And if we get to the basketball courts too late, there will already be people using the hoop on the shady side. But there is always tomorrow to shoot hoops in the shade and send leaf boats down the river.

So maybe this is our version of the journey being as important as the destination. Yesterday I took the children to the local Farm Park, about a thirty minute drive away. We’ve been there once before, but I had always thought it too far away to go regularly. It’s kind of like, when I was in college and home was a five hour plane ride. My personal calculation was that it wasn’t worth the plane ride unless I got to spend one day with my parents for every hour on the plane. Well, the Farm Park was like that in my head – would the adventure be worth the drive?

But yesterday I realized: the adventure starts at home – with talk about going, and packing our picnic lunch, and making sure everyone has hats and sunscreen. And the adventure continues with the car ride – listening to Hansel and Gretel (because it was the only CD in the car), and then getting a little lost because Google maps does not give you enough lead time on this one particular exit. And the adventure continues at home with emptying the backpack and throwing away the string cheese wrappers.

I don’t want to be frivolous with my time, but these days, I’m finding I’m looking at time differently. There is, of course, the way too much time I spend scrolling the phone – and that is draining, and I do need to work on being more mindful of that. But there are things that I used to impatiently regard as time wasters – the dawdling children, the u-turns because of missed exits, the long walk across a sunny meadow to get to the swing in the shade – lately, in the midst of these things, I find myself pausing and breathing and thinking, “This will take the time that it takes. What is the rush?” Perhaps in a post-COVID world, I will feel differently and move again at a pressing pace. But perhaps not.

Saying Nothing or Saying Something

There has been a lot of talk lately about race in America. Or maybe that is just my left leaning NPR, NY Times, Atlantic Monthly media and social media diet. Also, completely randomly, Robin Diangelo’s book White Fragility came off my reserves list about the time Geroge Floyd was murdered. So I guess I have been spending a bit of time contemplating ideas of what is systemic racism in America today, and my part in it. And wondering if I have anything to say about it. And so I wrote a post about how I felt so very complicit in the current racial climate. How being a “model minority” allows me to reap the benefits of a system that has denied so much to people who aren’t white.

And then I had a conversation with a friend about the idea of White Fragility, and decided to write a different post.

It might have also started with me reading a thread on NextDoor where, in response to a post about speaking to White people about race, someone posted the following:

“I predict … that this thread will turn into another dumpster fire of sincere but mindless regurgitation of “White fragility”/systemic racism talking points from those on the left (with a fair bit and either self flagellation or self righteousness), and then maybe a few angry and exasperated voices from people on the right who will denounce everyone else as “woke” morons. Commenters will be deemed either racists or a idiots.”

And then a couple days later, I spent a morning talking to a good friend about the nature of trauma, and how it can be perpetuated in a way that is difficult to overcome. How trauma can have repercussive effects through generations. And I realized that all my self reflection about my role in systemic racial prejudice in this country is not helping anyone. That my own realization of how lucky I am as a person and as a parent, is a personal journey, not one to proselytize about.

I’ve taken to listening to some more conservative podcasts lately. Initially I was curious how those outside my leftist echo chamber were reacting to the murder of George Floyd and the subsequent protests and outrage. I wondered if something truly different was happening, or if this was just another incident in a news cycle fatigued by COVID reporting, an incident amplified by a country worn down by quarantine conditions. And I realized that there are large swaths of the country that do not see value in having a conversation about systematic prejudice and privilege in this country. Some deny it is even a thing. Some think that it obfuscates real issues. Most people really don’t like being told what to think. But one thing is that most people realize that there is a lot of hurt and division in our country. And perhaps that will never go away, and is just a fact of America.

So there’s that. And what to do from here? Or, rather, what do I want to do from here? For all the eye-opening nature of reading White Fragility and the discussion rampant these days about privilege, and how to raise children who are anti-racist, it still seems to me like a lot of jargon. I’ve never been one from protesting; large crowds of people make me very uncomfortable, regardless of whether or not there is a pandemic.

I read this essay by Obama, and it reinforced to me that the most meaningful impact is at the local level. I know the presidential election is the glamorous one, but the County and State level are where most of the real work is done. To that point, this work is not just political, but also economic and social. I think I would like to spend more time thinking about what that means. More action, less analysis. I’m kind of an overthinker, so this might be difficult for me. But I’m going to try.