Back to Scratch

Things I want to remember

2013-07-23T08:38:00.004-07:00

Lane sleeps with two imaginary friends, sometimes three, sometimes four. Superman, batman, spiderman and dinosaur.

When told, "You're pushing the limits," Lane says, "I'm KISSING THE LIMITS".

On the airplane, with Lane dressed as a pirate, a couple without kids ask, "what's the deal with the pirate costume?" My only reply is, "He's a weird kid."

Nick and Lane went fishing at a trout farm in August. Lane cried when he realized the fish were going to die. I was so sad to see him grasp the sadness of the world, and so proud of him for being empathic.

A Waste of Time

2013-03-21T11:40:00.000-07:00

All these things are a waste of time: making baby food, cooking from scratch, gardening.

A few years ago I saw John Websters film "Recipe for Disaster" about a lovely, suburban family that eliminated oil from their lives. The film maker's wife and his two sons begrudgingly partake in the experiment--as they ditch the family car and give up plastic toys and all plastic-wrapped food.

The most pertinent part of the film is a comment from John's wife on all the time spent on car-less commutes with her children. Long bus rides, walks, bike rides to get from here to there. A waste of time, perhaps--but to them it was about spending time together. And, all in all, more time was spent together...talking on the bus, than zipping around in a car.

And, all these niceties of modern life, free us up...for what? To have more time to spend on Pinterest or watching Walking Dead? So that the time we have together is the commute between time we have with our computers.

I ditched our TV. I am growing herbs for the garden by seed. Lane and I water them together--Lane with my netty pot because it was the only thing I had on-hand that looked remotely like a watering can.

The cleaning up does still seem like a waste of time. But the rest of it. The chopping vegetables and talking. The checking on the meat. The blending. The standing around and smelling and rolling and waiting. And perhaps even the cleaning, which I am counting as workout.

2012-08-27T06:05:00.002-07:00

Children's Garden

2012-08-24T11:07:00.002-07:00

Lane I visited the Botanical Gardens today--I have big dreams about my own backyard kitchen garden and herb garden. It was a nice to do something that entertained both of us equally. While I love seeing Lane explore the world, I'm burnt out on doing things that are for his singular pleasure and education. A

Let me start out by saying that the garden exceeded my wildest imagination. Here is Lane in the children's garden, drawing with chalk on outdoor unfinished slate canvasses. I'm lounging in the sun, enjoying a moment of peace and some fresh air.

House Hunting and Finding The One

2012-08-14T06:09:00.001-07:00

We bid low and lost.

We stalled on others while they changed titles.

We gaped at the decorating atrocities of others—who are "motivated sellers because of an impending divorce".

I forced Nick to leave work early to see a cobbled together cottage with uneven floors because I liked the trees and the backyard vegetable garden. I could imagine us there, with our baby and our future babies—being happy, growing old.

And, then there is the dream I had of the bedroom window. A large window, behind the bed with rain and the feel of gray daylight in a room. In each house, I tried to find this window, thinking it is a sign.

And, then, there was the For Sale By Owner. I walked in and I knew it was mine. It was the smallest room behind the front door that sold me, really. A reading corner. And, a built-in desk. A screened in porch.

I have visions of old homes. Of sanding floors and painting. Of doing and redoing. But, this house is already done. And, it's done to taste that is much better than my own. (Yes, I am self-absorbed, but I'm also realistic and honest about my abilities.)

Now we wait and wait and wait to see what happens.

Meet Me and Pee with Me

2012-08-08T06:35:00.004-07:00

I know my dad didn't invent this saying, but he used it often so that when I think of it, I can only think of it as his words: "The first person you meet when you get off the plane is yourself." So, new everything, but also just the same old me.

House hunting is the big new thing that's happening.

There was one house that had a private driveway and was nestled in the woods that was appealing. But, I am leaning more toward being in a neighborhood.

My happiest times are those when I'm helplessly imbedded into close knit communities (dorms, camp, Inwood with 21 other families in our building). Though I have hermit tendencies and like the woods, I'm leaning toward a neighborhood home--even if the neighbors are annoying and the property is tiny.

I do miss much of NYC--I miss walking on the streets and the subway.

So, I have this rash--harmless but ugly. And, Lane is not sleeping well (again). And I've been a softy about comforting him which is making things worse. And, so, I've been drinking lots of coffee--in fact, drinking some now.

Coffee makes me PEEEEEEE.

I usually drive straight from work to look at houses--about 1 hour in the car. And I usually have to pee when I get out of the car...so I told our real estate agent that one of the ways I test out houses is to pee...and that I will be peeing in every house we see.

She doesn't know/get me, she didn't think it was funny.

The first person you meet when you get off the plane…

Food, Sleep, Sex

2012-07-31T06:11:00.000-07:00

My mood has been off, my temper short. It's really unwarranted. Triggered, I think, by the stress of the move and trying to buy a house.

The complaint goes like this: I have to drive everywhere, and the roads are unfamiliar—going in one direction when I need to go the other. And there is construction. And it takes me sometimes over an hour to get home from work.

Yes, my mood and the whining has been annoying, even to myself.

Ashleigh's advice is wise: "There's an answer for everything that is wrong with me. I'm either hungry, tired, or in need of affection. And the answer is food, sleep, sex."

Yes. I am in need of two of the three.

The thing I love about Ashleigh's advice is that it has nothing to do with patience, paring-down-or-building-up, positive outlooks, or attempting to get a hold of things that are out of my control. It's elemental. It is working.

Robinson's Country Store

2012-07-26T08:10:00.000-07:00

Robinson's Country Store in Dorset was voted the #1 Country Store in all if Canada. In my opinion, it's the best in all the world.

Go there for groceries, life jackets, hand-made loon quilts, moose pajamas, bug spray, fire starters, toys, gardening supplies, weirdly a huge selection of Crabtree and Evelyn (would not advise wearing anything but bug spray in the woods or elsewhere). There is a 6.5' cartoon moose in the entrance and the staff is wonderful.

Robinson's Country Store is also the best of the best of shoe stores.

Each year, we buy everyone in the family a pair of moccasins made from wild deer and moose hides. This year, Lane also got a pair of bright green Native Shoes in size 8.

That's right, size 8.

Here's our 2011 family shoe picture.

And here's our 2012 pics.

Baby Larks

2012-07-25T08:45:00.001-07:00

Bunking with the Prison Team Jesus Bikers

2012-07-25T05:51:00.002-07:00

We left over an hour later than originally planned. The boy screamed and we are the sort of parents that (misguidedly?) give in, so that while one of us drove, the other sat in the back seat desperately trying to entertain him.

At 1 am, we had had enough and Nick followed the highway signs to lodging. Since I was greasy and out of sorts, I fit right in with the other clientele loitering in the halls—my initial thought was that our hotel was actually a halfway house. But, it was more like a college dorm—and since it was Canadian, it was clean and manageable, despite (or maybe because) the prison team Jesus bikers that also lodged there.

My tolerance for these sorts of things is apparently very high—and while I hope to never stay there again, it made our arrival at the cottage that much sweeter.

Algonquin Trip

2012-07-25T05:23:00.002-07:00

Rain Makes Applesauce with Kale and Bok Choy

2012-07-19T10:29:00.001-07:00

After a lifetime (haha, it's hilarious to say a lifetime when referring to an 1.5 year old child) of eating everything set in front of him, Lane has developed preferences. To my horror, he's no longer into vegetables. Maybe it's teeth? Maybe it's that the Michigan peaches are juicy and tempting?

Determined to find ways to continue to include greens into his diet, I've developed some new kitchen potions. Here's the latest concoction, which was well received at least for today:

Applesauce with Kale and Bok Choy
1. Slice a batch of apples into quarters (don't worry about peeling the skin--you don't have time for such a thing!)
2. Add a bit of water and boil until the apples soften.
3. Throw in a handful of bok choy and Kale or chard or collards and boil until the greens wilt--add enough to make a difference in your kid's diet, but not enough to taste bitter.

When the pot has cooled, throw it all into your food processor--add a shake of cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, and a tiny bit of allspice.

Homemaker, I am not...yet

2012-07-19T10:21:00.002-07:00

We're here, in Michigan, at last. But, it's no sprawling farm. It's no 100 year old reworked farmhouse. It's no backyard with a cooking garden. It's no cottage with a third floor writing studio with a slanted roof.

It's an apartment.
It's an apartment with carpet and fake-wood-linoleum floors in the kitchen.

In our haste to settle into a temporary space while we search for a home where we can put down roots--I put most of our stuff into storage at my mom's house. My mom hates clutter even more than I do. And to her, boxes that are placed in her basement are clutter--in fact, she spent most of her marriage to my father complaining about all of his stuff that was boxed in the basement. And now, it's my stuff. Thank you mom!

I married an artist. But our walls are blank. We didn't bother to hang paintings (even in Lane's room). I was going to attempt to prepare a week of crockpot meals--but my crock is in storage!

We bid on a house--a DREAM HOME with huge windows and a screened in porch. But, we lost the bid. Lisa asked me how I would feel if we were outfit, and I replied that I'd feel fine. And then, she asked how I would feel if we won and I realized that winning the house would be stressful. In all, it wasn't the right place for us. This is a process that will take time, that will involve lots of homes that are not going to be our home, despite their character and dreaminess. I'm surrendering to the process, to the months of searching that are ahead of us, and then the months of settling into the next thing. It's not going to be quick, but it can be easy if I just accept that this is the process.

Where's Lane

2012-07-05T06:04:00.000-07:00

Our first big night out since our move to MI was to Erin's house to celebrate 4th of July. Essentially, I invited myself over and because Erin is this type of person, she turned it into a party. And even though it's been months since we last hung out, it was if we were still 14 years old--hiding from the swimming coach in the locker room. Only now, we drink wine and don't have to swim laps. Which is to say, things are even better.

Our kids ran wild in a tumbling heap around the house. In NYC, we didn't use many stairs--so my instinct is to hover and worry over Lane on stairs. But, half way through the evening, I went searching for him, and he was upstairs with Ella--sitting in the circus tent in her room. All by themselves, perfectly happy.

2012-06-16T04:50:00.001-07:00

We are in the middle of packing for our move to Michigan. In my heart, I knew that NYC was a temporary base. We have packed 20 boxes of things that we have not used for the past two years--things that we cannot get rid of because if I want to, one day, make lavender ice cream then I will need my ice cream maker.

And, it's the same thing for NYC. Why live in NYC if you only bother to visit a museum or see a show when out of town guests need to be entertained?

And, it will be the same thing in MI if I don't make a point to do these things:
1. Swim in lakes all summer long.
2. Bike ride on forest trails.
3. Harvest veggies in my own yard.
4. Finally serve great dinners to our friends, outside in my herb garden.

The tourist's NYC is what I will have when I visit, again, as an outsider. My dad used to say that NYC is a great place to visit, but not to live. NYC is a great place to live--and we will miss our friend's here profoundly. I'm secretly hoping that they will all have babies soon move home and be closer to family too.

Hannah recently visited MI for an interview. She was treated to lunch at a place that lacked any vegetarian options, so she ordered a ham and cheese without the ham--they brought her an extra slice of white bread. This is the part of MI that terrifies me. It reminds me of a conversation I had with a smart guy in college who assumed the only type of bar that existed was a sports bar. There's the desolation of Detroit, and the surrounding suburban families living in a stunted economy with stunted cultural opportunities.

The first thing I will do in MI is bring everyone together for a Dominican Sunday in the park. The men of the grandfather generation will be forced to play dominos while the kids run wild and the father's fly kites. This is the NYC of Inwood that I will miss terribly.

2012-04-04T10:46:00.001-07:00

2012-03-21T06:38:00.000-07:00

I'm on a train again. It seems so old fashioned to be traveling by train--I can't help by think of the old Lionel set we used to have when we all lived together in the Lathrup house, which was large enough to have its own train room. This train set belonged to my father and my older brother and I was not allowed to touch it.

If the subway has become my 30 minute silent retreat into my thoughts, the Acela Express to DC has become my extended meditation vacation. In between places.

On Saturday, I'll be traveling by plane to Mexico--but travel by air doesn't have the same comforts--especially with a wild toddler (please, oh please let there be a kindly grandpa-sorts sitting next to me who can make faces that entertain Lane for hours like our last trip).

We're heading to Mexico with both sets of grandparents. I'm excited for Lane to spend time with them, and to have two sets of eager babysitters on hand.

But, my mother decided to get a face lift and is swollen and in pain. Her doctor advised her not to pick up anything heavy (like a 25lb child) for some time until she is fully recovered from the surgery.

Ohhhh MOM! Why would you do something so stupid and wasteful?!?

A few things you need to know about my mom:
1. She is beautiful in a natural way. Her face is soft and her eyes are big.
2. She is 62 years old, but she looks like a 50-something.
3. When I was growing up, she wore sweat pants and jeans and t-shirts and was beautiful in a non-fussy, dressed down way that only someone who is really beautiful can manage.
4. She has a "uniform" of work clothes that consists of wool pants and sweaters of various colors.
5. More than anything else, she loves time with her kids and her grandkids.
6. She is very cheep and hates to spend money in the way only the child of a depression-era parent can be.

Why would she decide to go through anything that would make her feel sick for even one day when it was not medically necessary? Why would she choose to do this one week before her trip to Mexico with us--her first time in about 2 months of seeing me and Lane?

I was so mad at hearing about the lift, and so disappointment. Why would my mom be such a poor role model--lifting her face to achieve some stupid Hollywood sense of what beauty must look like? Why would she--someone so against spending money frivolously--spend money on this! She could have booked a trip to NY to visit me, or hired a personal trainer, or taken all her friends out to the fanciest restaurant in Detroit. Or treated herself to some nicer work clothes.

When my father was diagnosed with brain cancer and we were told he had a year, maybe a year, to live. The way I thought about time changed. It's limited. It has an end date--and the end date is closer than you want. And once that end date is here, you don't get to talk to the people you love anymore.

Having a baby has only reinforced this sense of panic regarding time.

Quality of Soil to Quality of Food

2012-03-12T12:56:00.004-07:00

I spend about six hours a week on the train. Nick spends ten. I LOVE this time when my cell phone won't work, when I can't do a thing but sit and listen to my thoughts and tune into (yes, tune in--rather than tune out) the things go on around me.

I call myself a "Mind Farmer" because, in my mind, I have glorious beds growing herbs and cucumbers, off the grid, for my family. Yes, it's a $64 Tomato dream (get the book, read it) and I'm not growing anything in my dark NYC apartment.

But, today I found this: http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/windowfarms/learn-to-grow-and-share-with-new-windowfarms?ref=card

WANT, WANT, WANT IT

It's a great idea, it looks cool, buying it will help a Detroiter with similar sensibilities. In fact, I LOVE it so much that I wish I had invented it.

A few months ago, Nick became obsessed with aquaponics. I couldn't help but think that plants grown on fish waste, are well, fish-shit-plants--shitINshitOUT. No scientist understands everything about healthy soil, even if they can measure inputs like nitrogen.

I recently read "The Urban Farm Handbook" and discovered that several vegetables have decreased in nutritional value since 1950--here's the well-cited Texas University study: http://www.jacn.org/content/23/6/669.full

So, will this window garden give me shit vegetables? Can I have both--the good soil food and the window farm?

Free Play

2012-03-11T07:51:00.003-07:00

A mom in the neighborhood launched a small business called Wiggles & Giggles, it's a baby-sized indoor playroom. And, they have preschool classes as well as things like mama&meYOGA.

Nick was away this weekend, so I made a huge effort to maintain my sanity which involved lots of play dates and activities. Thanks to a two hour stint at W&G, we made it through the weekend. In fact, without Nick, we fell into an easy routine and the house is relatively clean. But I do miss him so.

To my surprise, with Nick away, I feel like I had more time to myself and more space. Nick is a hands on dad, on the weekends, he takes Lane for some daddy-and-me bonding time. I was dreading the non-stop-ness of being the only one around to care for Lane.

But, it wasn't like that at all.

Lane was a dream this weekend--maybe because he's finally had a short stint of total health, maybe because he's just reaching a stage where he can play alone, maybe because I ran him ragged with activities, maybe because he picked up on the fact that I really needed him to be on his best behavior. There was not much to do at night after Lane fell asleep and I made a point to go to sleep early as well--so I feel oddly rested and relaxed. Exactly opposite as I expected to feel.

Since watching Lane explore at W&G, I've been thinking a lot about free play and how important it is for children and adults. When I think about my childhood, I have memories of digging in the dirt behind my house, and exploring my neighborhood and basically just meandering around and passing the time. In fact, I have great memories of finding snails in the dirt. And of looking at rocks and of swinging for what couldn't have been, but what seems like, hours at end.

With Nick away, I made a point to meet up with my girl friends and their babies and have drinks and dinner at the local cafe for "free play" of my own. And, wandering the internet, like I'm doing right now.

And, here's one more picture of Lane with AWESOME morning hair.

House-ing

2012-02-29T07:43:00.001-08:00

Despite my efforts against clutter, it's abundant. To my mother's horror, I rejected jumper-oos in favor of cloth and wooden curiosities. Exhausting every ounce of my will power, I kept my Target cart free from nonessentials.

And still, things are everywhere.

Clutter saps energy.

And, it totally kills my sex drive, which is why I think Nick is so open to helping me clean.

It's not only that I hate things being in sight, I hate my overstuffed closets.
I hate piles (even orderly piles) on desks.

So, it took much breaking down before I admitted that we needed to have hooks in our entrance hallway to manage our coats and hats and winter things.

If I was going to look at hooks, I wanted them to be beautiful. So I ordered reclaimed wood hooks. (Yay for online shopping! Even though I hate clutter, I get a thrill when I hit submit and again when a package--a present really-- arrives in the mail.)

And, I even hung the hooks on the wall by myself.

There's a song I sometimes sing to Lane:

"I'm bringing home a baby bumble bee
Won't my mommy be so proud of me"

I was feeling very proud of myself with the tool box at my feet and the hammer in my hand. Lane watched, and I had a proud moment of teaching my little boy about all the things strong women can do.

Here's the envisioned outcome of my "project":

And here's the reality:

"I'm bringing home a baby bumble bee
Won't my mommy be so proud of me"

Tronics

2012-02-21T11:54:00.000-08:00

I may be obsessed with my phone--my iPhone. I tested myself a few minutes ago, to see if I could sit here while Lane napped and not look at it. Mind you, I also have a computer on my lap with all the same information as my phone. But, it buzzed and I wanted to see who was there.

The other day, I was sitting on the train with a computer, an iPhone and an iPad. A old man was sitting across from me (I always pick the 4-seaters on the train) and he had a paper. I couldn't get online to read the paper with all three of my gadgets.

I've considered taking a technology vacation--a rest from it all. But how to rest without reading blogs and checking out pinterest and connecting on Facebook? In the kitchen, I suppose, is where I detox from technology--from outside information.

Today I made a red lentil soup and portabella burgers. Back to health grind. Oh, and I called a babysitter to help with Lane.

Sarah Zagar and The No Good, Terrible Horrible, Very Bad Day

2012-02-15T05:54:00.000-08:00

I am on a train heading to DC—it's packed with travelers and not yet 8 am. I am wearing a new dress which might be too short for a business meeting. A dress that has crisscross buttons in the back that might be impossible to undo-redo when I pump. A whole day of planning meetings ahead of me and I'm feeling like a crazy woman, hoping I don't look like one (suspicious that I do).

Lane threw up last night. In my bed. On me. He slept fitfully—thus I slept fitfully. Lane woke up just in time to nurse and then have a mini breakdown as I walked out the door.

When I walked Lane home from daycare yesterday, Helen, his favorite daycare teacher, told me that one of the other kids threw up. So, I'm guessing he has a stomach virus. According to Inwood Kids, there's a violent stomach virus going around that lasts about 24 hours.

Here are some other things that are already making today worse:

1. Nick texted me that Lane threw up again, this time at our local café.

2. My earliest meeting was canceled so I'm arriving into DC with more than an hour to spare.

3. I have a computer, an iPad and iPhone—but I can't get online to read the paper. A man next to me has a paper, but none of the gadgets. He wins.

Here is one thing making today bearable:

1. Nick is home with Lane and he is so tender and careful with the babe I don't have to worry. I'll be home in time to give Lane a bath and put him to sleep.

Here's one thing that would make today so bad it would be comical:

1. If I get the 24 hour stomach virus.

February 2012

2012-02-10T10:54:00.001-08:00

Farming Dreams

2012-02-10T09:56:00.000-08:00

Thing 1: It's been a strange winter--warm and sunny. I've spent a lot of time wiping Lane's ever running nose and complaining about my own. I can't help but wonder if we'd all be healthier if we had a different type of life. One where we are closer to the earth, breathing fresh air. This is to say...on a farm. And because the internet is so accessible and because real estate in MI is dirt cheap, I've found myself a new hobby. Looking for farmland in MI. And, I'm decorating it in my head with reclaimed wood tables and Nick's paintings.

Thing 2: Lane has an appointment with an ENT because fluid is not draining out of his ears. Well, I have not yet made the appointment, but it's on my to do list.

Thing 3: I need a makeover. Kaley--my friend who is a style blogger and who always looks effortlessly put together--is going to do it for me. Here's her blog: http://pretty-lovely-sparkles.blogspot.com/

Cooking - Back to Basics

2012-01-19T05:34:00.000-08:00

I botched a few things recently: Lamb Stew, Turkey Chili, Zucchini Bread. You may have noticed that my recipes lack measurements. This is the problem. I grew up watching my father cook by taste and smell, a dash of this, a slice of that, all into the pot and always tasting as it should.

Nick used to have two things to say about my cooking:
"Needs more salt," which translates to "I don't like it.""
"This is the BEST thing you've ever made."

But, he just added a third, a perplexed and honest question: "Did you follow a recipe?"

I like to read about cooking, about food preparation techniques, about starter cultures, and heirloom seed saving, and pastured meats. But, following a specific recipe seems so tedious. And, often, I don't have all the ingredients on hand so I improvise (rather than just preparing a grocery list like a normal person).

In the kitchen, I imagine myself a old grandmother, who knows the ingredients and the amounts innately. Without any training, this is totally delusional.

To top things off, I have a hard time finding my measuring spoons. They are in a drawer with other things--whisks, cheese graters, ladles. Not so good at eye balling a third of a cup of flour. I assume, while mixing things together, that these good organic ingredients will just magically bake and brown to perfection. Not so true with the Zucchini Bread which turned out dull and thick, hard to chew. The Lamb Stew was overly rich. The Turkey Chili was bland as ever. It really hit me when even Baby Lane turned up his nose at my meals.

This week, I'm going to follow the recipes.