Growing Versions

Scene from Vicar of Dibley, Season 1, Episode 1 Members of the Parish Council discuss the prospect of having a female vicar. Mrs. Cropley: ...things have to change, don't they? Jim: That's right. I mean look at traffic lights, well, if they didn't change there'd be terrible congestion, wouldn't there? Owen: On the other hand, there's gravity. Jim: What about it? Owen: If gravity change, we'd all go floating up into space. Some changes are instant and irreversible. Some changes are contemplated for ages before even one minute movement can be detected. Some of us need agents of change. The other day, a friend took me to see this beautiful property. We have been in the midst of a change for a while now, but this was just the little push I needed to speed up the process. The question when contemplating a change is will this relieve congestion or cause me to float up to space? Now I see a clearer road ahead, the sky i...

I have a theory. When a kid turns 3, the qualities that are unique to them make their first prominent showing. The glimmers of them shine through the strongest since that person had been conceived of and you finally see flickers of them .  When I think of them, even now, the 3 year old versions dance around their current versions. More than a few times, when my son was 7, I had to remind myself he was not 3--Not because he was behaving badly, but because the essence of his 3ness was so strong; his playfulness and curiosity and an urgent need to talk things down to the ground. Now, my friend has another theory; you are never more yourself than when you are 11. Thinking about him or his sister becoming less than themselves after that is the crack through the pre-broken heart I was transplanted with upon becoming a parent. I have a feeling that even as adults, the 3 and 7 and the 11 year old versions will be charging my knowledge of them.

 I am really fortunate that I have so many lovely and supportive friends and family members. I know not everyone is so lucky as I am. Despite being spoiled with riches, ever since I was a little kid, I have had a really hard time being a friend or a family member that can ask for help. Even with my parents as a young kid, I would will myself not to cry, not to show upset or dismay. I know this frustrates my loved ones.  They don't like to see me stressed. Sometimes, when I am not quite ready for "talk therapy", I walk out my frustrations.  It lowers my blood pressure and helps me get rid of all the excess information that is flooding my system, hitching a ride on the gushes of adrenaline. Once the adrenaline is down to a trickle, I find myself in a better position to ask for and accept help.

My daughter invited me to join the  library she created last night. She made me a library card. Her playfulness almost made me weep. She is growing into a new phase that doesn't much include playfulness these days and I almost sprained something to stay in that moment. Do. Not. Look. Away. (I borrowed Monkey and Me by Emily Gravett by the way!)

Like many women, I have vacillating feelings about cleaning. On the one hand, I resent that through both forces beyond my control and more personal ones, I have ended up with the bulk of housework in our house. On the other, I can't deny that I love the feeling of waking up in a freshly cleaned house. It sets things for the week, or the day, or a morning (in our case) off on the right foot. Recently, I have re-committed to cleaning house.  I have discovered that despite the patriarchy extracting labour for free, our family does benefit from the occasional freebie. Last weekend, I woke up to stacks of dirty dishes, discarded snacks and wobbling piles of clothes and library books all over every surface.  I rolled up my sleeves, turned on the radio and worked steadily revealing surfaces again for the next few hours. It wasn't spotless but there was room to breathe again, and as it turns out, play. The next day it rained.  The kids started filling up every surface ...

I love starting the weekend by making pancakes. However, I get a bit tired of standing around for more than an hour tending them, only to get to the table and be already full because I have resorted to eating some before I serve them. My son recently requested Dutch Baby Pancakes  because Elmo suggested them somewhere along the line. "I always thought they would be delicious."  I prefer to call them Baby Dutch, not sure why. I had never heard of a Baby Dutch Pancake and I was about to behold the magic of The Baby Dutch Pancake (singular). First off, you blend it up in the blender, taking care of any excess labour you may have wasted on this chore before. Second, you pour it into a heated up frying pan and let it cook for 20 minutes. Near the end, when the edges come away from the pan, you flip it. The bonus of this masterpiece is that it has a lot of eggs in it, so it is a) more filling b) you are able to rip the top off of it in case it burns.  Is there nothing ...