It's balmy today, probably over 60°F, or at least 60-ish, but it's damp. Not raining, just gray and damp and very Oregon. It's so dark here. We are so much further north than I was in Massachusetts. It's starting to get dark by 5:00 p.m. and it's black as night until 7:30 a.m.
I had forgotten how many trees there are here that do change color. It's no New England leaf-peeping season for sure, but some of the trees on campus are really splendid.
The president's office had cookies and cider available all day for everyone on campus as a little Halloween treat. The halls of the building I worked in smelled of mulling spices. I had a maple-frosted donut for breakfast and a pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie as an afternoon snack.
Earlier this week, I let Maddie and Riley stay up late to watch the Charlie Brown Halloween special on TV; they seemed to enjoy the fun of being up late and certain parts of the show, but they'd never watched commercial TV before and got amusingly idignant about the ads. "When will Snoopy be back? When will Charlie Brown be back?" I had not watched that show in years and years and years, and I had completely forgotten about the (rather long) Snoopy-as-WWI-flying-ace subplot. I sense that in the days when therapy was rare and PTSD was not a diagnosis, Charles M. Schultz was using his medium as a place to work through some serious issues.
We're going to a fall festival potluck tonight at Maddie and Riley's preschool. I made an old-school, original Moosewood cookbook recipe for vegetable pâté. It has green beans, hard-boiled eggs, sautéed onion, walnuts, a bit of vinegar, and a pinch of nutmeg. Sounds kinda gross, right? It's actually hearty and delicious, although it does not, I don't think, taste "like chopped liver," as the cookbook would have you believe. Many of the preschool activities this week have revolved around cooking and other preparations for the festival.
Tomorrow we'll drive down to my dad's and go trick-or-treating in his neighborhood and to various friends' houses. Maddie and Riley are so excited about their costumes and about the trick-or-treating and candy.
I like fall.*
*Although I do not like turning back the clocks and am dreading my Sunday morning wake-up call from the twins. They are normally up around 6:30 and I think it is highly likely that I will be up around 5:30 on Sunday. Ugh.
30 October 2009
Maddie, so self-aware
[during a morning snuggle]
Me: Maddie, you are such a sweet girl.
Maddie: I am also smart. I am both! I am smart and sweet.
So true.
Me: Maddie, you are such a sweet girl.
Maddie: I am also smart. I am both! I am smart and sweet.
So true.
20 October 2009
Should, Should, Should
I should be calling Comcast right now, to try to figure out why my home Internet is out. Or I should be calling Social Security to figure out why they can't get the address changed on Maddie and Riley's survivor's benefit checks. Or perhaps I should call to make a long-overdue doctor's appointment for myself, or schedule all three of us to go to the dentist. I should look for flights to Michigan for Thanksgiving, I should look up a cupcake recipe for the treats I'm bringing to the office on Thursday.
But I've had a rough bit at work; I've managed to incur the wrath of my boss (even though she's on leave--I'm just that good) and the wrath of a faculty member, and between those two events, my work laptop was stolen. I suppose the theft of my laptop is not my fault, exactly, but then again I could have kept the key to the cable lock in a more discreet place . . . in any case, I'm feeling stretched a bit thin at work, and I find that once I start feeling low about one area in my life, I'm more apt to dwell on other things that bring me down: my unsold condo, the ensuing financial woes, the fact that John is dead.
One of the things I miss most about having a spouse is having an adult close at hand with whom to discuss the tough stuff. This job I have now sometimes requires me to navigate some rough water, and while overall it's a great job and a great place, the going can get pretty tough. Yes, it would be unspeakably nice to go home to someone who could help me with the logistics of our evening routine, it would be even better to have someone to debrief with after the kids were in bed. "Debriefing" for me these days involves ignoring the housework and other sundry chores, pouring a glass of wine, and watching 30 Rock on DVD. It's not unpleasant, but it doesn't do much to keep my house in order and it doesn't do much to help me process the challenges I face at work and at home. I miss that. A lot.
But I've had a rough bit at work; I've managed to incur the wrath of my boss (even though she's on leave--I'm just that good) and the wrath of a faculty member, and between those two events, my work laptop was stolen. I suppose the theft of my laptop is not my fault, exactly, but then again I could have kept the key to the cable lock in a more discreet place . . . in any case, I'm feeling stretched a bit thin at work, and I find that once I start feeling low about one area in my life, I'm more apt to dwell on other things that bring me down: my unsold condo, the ensuing financial woes, the fact that John is dead.
One of the things I miss most about having a spouse is having an adult close at hand with whom to discuss the tough stuff. This job I have now sometimes requires me to navigate some rough water, and while overall it's a great job and a great place, the going can get pretty tough. Yes, it would be unspeakably nice to go home to someone who could help me with the logistics of our evening routine, it would be even better to have someone to debrief with after the kids were in bed. "Debriefing" for me these days involves ignoring the housework and other sundry chores, pouring a glass of wine, and watching 30 Rock on DVD. It's not unpleasant, but it doesn't do much to keep my house in order and it doesn't do much to help me process the challenges I face at work and at home. I miss that. A lot.
14 October 2009
x2
I'm in the same position as lo so many bloggers before me: somehow I have gone from posting twice weekly to twice monthly, or so it's starting to feel.
It used to be that life unfolded as a series of blog posts for me. Even as events were happening, I was writing about them in my mind, as a way to get through them if they were uncomfortable or to celebrate them if they were wonderful. Now, more and more, I just experience them, and after they are over, I have a hard time recalling what made them so special or so wretched.
This past weekend, for instance, is a case in point. It was lovely. We had dinner at my mom and stepdad's house with some family friends, and we all ate and drank quite a lot and laughed as Maddie and Riley tried to juggle, and it was one of those evenings where my wine glass always seemed to be full and the kids were at their cutest. We spent the night at my mom and stepdad's, and in the morning, we went to a local nursery and the kids planted bulbs and got balloons and then we were good suburban, whitewashed Americans and we had lunch at McDonald's before heading home for naptime.
During naptime, my father arrived, and we spent the rest of the weekend enjoying his company. He put the kids to bed on Saturday night while I went out for a couple of hours with my best friend, then on Sunday morning we all went to the zoo. Bats eating broccoli! A really gigantic elephant! Sunday afternoon was spent cooking, then eating dinner with friends and family.
See, lovely, but as blog fodder, dull as can be. As I've pointed out before, it's quite boring to lead an unremarkable and happy life.
I was struck this weekend by two things: (1) how great it is to have these kinds of days, which are exactly the kinds of days I'd imagined and for which I moved home; the joy of it all regularly exceeds my expectations, and (2) it's so much easier to enjoy and manage my role as a parent when I have regular help. I had help all weekend this past weekend, and it's no coincidence that the weekend was so great. This is elementary, of course, but sometimes I think that I exaggerate how much logistically simpler life with an extra set of hands can be. But no, I do not exaggerate. It's infinitely simpler. It just is.
Work is busy and stressful. In many ways, I am happy to have a job that can be demanding of me. Work is more enjoyable for me when I'm really engaged in what I'm doing. But it's exhausting to do more than show up and sit in a chair, which is mostly what I did as my old job. I find that, as a result, I'm even more protective of my personal time than I used to be. I need to be, so that I can be on the ball at work.
Maddie and Riley are flourishing. All of a sudden, Maddie is really into coloring. She wants to color and do "projects" all the time. She cuts up tons of paper and then glues the bits together and attaches things with stickers and presents me with "coupons" and "tickets" and various kinds of animals and objects. Riley loves to tinker and fix things. Maddie has become a huge fan of taking showers and will linger under the water for twenty minutes or more, just spinning around, drinking from the "rain," and washing her little plastic turtle, known as Baby Glowy. Riley wants to be a recycle bin for Halloween; Maddie wants to be a panda bear. We read books, books and more and more books. Sometimes they prefer to play alone rather than to have me play with them, which is a welcome relief and a slap in the face. Riley informed me yesterday that I do not pick out good clothes for him, and it's true: his outfits are much more creative than mine. Maddie is obsessed with wearing tights. They like soup of all kinds. I fed them broccoli and cheddar quiche + salad one night this weekend for dinner and squash soup, bread, and salad another night to hearty appetites. That felt good.
That's where we are, that's what we do. We had a fire in our fireplace over the weekend, and Riley said, so earnestly and so joyfully, "Oh, Mama, let's read by the fire!" Somehow, that sweet little sentence was so triumphant to me. It made me feel like I was doing something right.
I feel so full, but words fail.
It used to be that life unfolded as a series of blog posts for me. Even as events were happening, I was writing about them in my mind, as a way to get through them if they were uncomfortable or to celebrate them if they were wonderful. Now, more and more, I just experience them, and after they are over, I have a hard time recalling what made them so special or so wretched.
This past weekend, for instance, is a case in point. It was lovely. We had dinner at my mom and stepdad's house with some family friends, and we all ate and drank quite a lot and laughed as Maddie and Riley tried to juggle, and it was one of those evenings where my wine glass always seemed to be full and the kids were at their cutest. We spent the night at my mom and stepdad's, and in the morning, we went to a local nursery and the kids planted bulbs and got balloons and then we were good suburban, whitewashed Americans and we had lunch at McDonald's before heading home for naptime.
During naptime, my father arrived, and we spent the rest of the weekend enjoying his company. He put the kids to bed on Saturday night while I went out for a couple of hours with my best friend, then on Sunday morning we all went to the zoo. Bats eating broccoli! A really gigantic elephant! Sunday afternoon was spent cooking, then eating dinner with friends and family.
See, lovely, but as blog fodder, dull as can be. As I've pointed out before, it's quite boring to lead an unremarkable and happy life.
I was struck this weekend by two things: (1) how great it is to have these kinds of days, which are exactly the kinds of days I'd imagined and for which I moved home; the joy of it all regularly exceeds my expectations, and (2) it's so much easier to enjoy and manage my role as a parent when I have regular help. I had help all weekend this past weekend, and it's no coincidence that the weekend was so great. This is elementary, of course, but sometimes I think that I exaggerate how much logistically simpler life with an extra set of hands can be. But no, I do not exaggerate. It's infinitely simpler. It just is.
Work is busy and stressful. In many ways, I am happy to have a job that can be demanding of me. Work is more enjoyable for me when I'm really engaged in what I'm doing. But it's exhausting to do more than show up and sit in a chair, which is mostly what I did as my old job. I find that, as a result, I'm even more protective of my personal time than I used to be. I need to be, so that I can be on the ball at work.
Maddie and Riley are flourishing. All of a sudden, Maddie is really into coloring. She wants to color and do "projects" all the time. She cuts up tons of paper and then glues the bits together and attaches things with stickers and presents me with "coupons" and "tickets" and various kinds of animals and objects. Riley loves to tinker and fix things. Maddie has become a huge fan of taking showers and will linger under the water for twenty minutes or more, just spinning around, drinking from the "rain," and washing her little plastic turtle, known as Baby Glowy. Riley wants to be a recycle bin for Halloween; Maddie wants to be a panda bear. We read books, books and more and more books. Sometimes they prefer to play alone rather than to have me play with them, which is a welcome relief and a slap in the face. Riley informed me yesterday that I do not pick out good clothes for him, and it's true: his outfits are much more creative than mine. Maddie is obsessed with wearing tights. They like soup of all kinds. I fed them broccoli and cheddar quiche + salad one night this weekend for dinner and squash soup, bread, and salad another night to hearty appetites. That felt good.
That's where we are, that's what we do. We had a fire in our fireplace over the weekend, and Riley said, so earnestly and so joyfully, "Oh, Mama, let's read by the fire!" Somehow, that sweet little sentence was so triumphant to me. It made me feel like I was doing something right.
I feel so full, but words fail.
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