Someday I'd like to go to the Toronto International Film Festival with Noel. Given that it's impossible for me to take vacations in the middle of the semester, it might not be until I'm retired. (I'd hold out the possibility of a sabbatical, but as an administrator, the only time I can get sabbaticals is in the summer.)
I loved Toronto when I was there for the American Academy of Religion meeting several years ago. The sprawling underground shopping district that connected my hotel to the meeting venues was never less than fascinating, and I became proud of my ability to navigate it after a couple of days. I even got out to the area where some of the festival screenings take place and saw a movie, as I recall. A lot of that has changed since I was there and the festival has changed the spaces it uses, but I still feel like I got a tiny taste.
Noel has attended for years now, and has the status of a veteran. Friends who decide to make the trip or more sporadic attendees quiz him about the festival's arcane ticketing procedures, transportation, and accommodations. He works hard while he's there, seeing four or five movies a day and writing them up in capsules every night to be posted the next morning. I especially like the little touches in the capsules that I feel are just for me, like the "Headline" category which often approaches an inside joke. For example, the Headline on Noel's review of Kill List is "But will it sync with Toodledo?", referring to the to-do list manager we both use.
It seems to me, reading these reviews and Noel's more immediate tweet-reactions from the films, that he's had a pretty good festival -- a couple of awesome experiences, some confounding but unforgettable ones, and a nice run of solid second-tier successes. He's gotten to hang with friends he sees only once a year, typically, and eat some good meals. Sleep probably hasn't been too plentiful. I know he's missed his kids something awful. But I hope the trip has proved well worth his while. Maybe the shakeup in his routine will re-energize him at a time of year when we all need a serious kick-start.
Showing posts with label Toronto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Toronto. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Every little thing
It's the last full day of my annual TIFF widowhood. Noel will be back tomorrow evening after nine days away attending the Toronto Film Festival. For him, it's a busman's holiday; he worked long, hard hours seeing films, tweeting reactions, and writing up several capsules a night before getting up early the next day and doing it again.
I can't pretend his absence has been a crushing burden on my shoulders. After all, his mother was here to take over during the two days I spent at a mountaintop retreat. The kids don't require round-the-clock care anymore. The major changes I experienced were a shortened work day due to the need to pick them up in the afternoon from school, being in sole charge of meals, and that sinking feeling that when a kid has lost something precious in the clutter of their rooms, there's no one else to call for help in finding it.
But it's true that I'm tired as Noel's trip nears its finish line. And I realize with new forcefulness that when the responsibility of family provider and facilitator falls solely on your shoulders, any tiny bit of unexpected good fortune or the kindness of others feels like a huge gift of grace. For instance, I'm looking forward to next week when I can stay late at work for some meetings and events because I know Noel will be able to stay on kid duty.
Today I was arranging the teaching schedule of our departmental faculty for next semester, and one colleague e-mailed me back to say that a mid-afternoon slot wasn't preferable because of the need to be available to pick up his kids if the arrangements he'd made with others to do so fell through. I was able to make some swaps to position his teaching earlier in the day, and his gratitude felt quite familiar to me after these nine days alone. Every little bit helps -- and helps so much that it sometimes changes everything.
I can't pretend his absence has been a crushing burden on my shoulders. After all, his mother was here to take over during the two days I spent at a mountaintop retreat. The kids don't require round-the-clock care anymore. The major changes I experienced were a shortened work day due to the need to pick them up in the afternoon from school, being in sole charge of meals, and that sinking feeling that when a kid has lost something precious in the clutter of their rooms, there's no one else to call for help in finding it.
But it's true that I'm tired as Noel's trip nears its finish line. And I realize with new forcefulness that when the responsibility of family provider and facilitator falls solely on your shoulders, any tiny bit of unexpected good fortune or the kindness of others feels like a huge gift of grace. For instance, I'm looking forward to next week when I can stay late at work for some meetings and events because I know Noel will be able to stay on kid duty.
Today I was arranging the teaching schedule of our departmental faculty for next semester, and one colleague e-mailed me back to say that a mid-afternoon slot wasn't preferable because of the need to be available to pick up his kids if the arrangements he'd made with others to do so fell through. I was able to make some swaps to position his teaching earlier in the day, and his gratitude felt quite familiar to me after these nine days alone. Every little bit helps -- and helps so much that it sometimes changes everything.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
If I had to do the same again
Today's post about the last red and white crocheted scarf for a while is at Toxophily.
Meanwhile, Noel has arrived in Toronto and succeeded in turning his laptop into a wireless internet hub for his hotel roommates. Expect more wonders emanating from the north as the movie-going and capsule-writing begins in earnest; follow all the action at the A.V. Club and on his Twitter feed.
Meanwhile, Noel has arrived in Toronto and succeeded in turning his laptop into a wireless internet hub for his hotel roommates. Expect more wonders emanating from the north as the movie-going and capsule-writing begins in earnest; follow all the action at the A.V. Club and on his Twitter feed.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Scrambled
When I got home today and looked through the mail, I found a little box about the size of a videocassette, stuffed to bursting. I knew what it was -- I'd been anticipating it arriving today, having taken its sweet time to amble my way during the long Labor Day weekend. It's the opening salvo of Dish Rag Tag. My mission for the next few hours is to knit like mad and complete the included dishcloth pattern in the included dishcloth yarn, then pack the whole thing up with new yarn and a few goodies for my teammate next in line and send it off as soon as the post office doors open tomorrow.
But before that can happen, tomorrow brings another imperative. Noel leaves for his annual busman's holiday to the Toronto International Film Festival long before the sun rises.
What do these two events in my life have to do with each other? Both set me on a frantic scramble to get done what I need to get done, meet deadlines, fulfill my obligations, take care of business, and do my best not to let down the side. In the case of Dish Rag Tag, my part will be done when I hand the box over to the postal worker tomorrow. In the case of Noel's Toronto trip, I'll be on the front lines for most of the next week. (Thankfully, Friday evening through Sunday noon I'll get to hand over the reins to Noel's mother, arriving to stay with the kids while I go up Petitjean Mountain with the members of our incoming class of students.)
I didn't dread Noel's absence in the worst of times because our kids are so delightful and well-mannered. And as the years have gone by, any residual anxiety has pretty much faded; they practically take care of themselves, so other than driving, providing food, and keeping the power tools out of reach, there's not much I have to do that Noel ordinarily does. But if there's one thing that concerns me year after year, it's having everything depend on me -- having to meet all the deadlines, fulfill all the obligations, take care of all the business, and do my best not to let down the family.
It's by no means an impossible feat. Some people do it by themselves three hundred and sixty-five days a year. But it's a change of pace. At some point in the next nine days, I'll be scrambling. Let's hope whatever I'm trying to get done is as easy and as well within my powers as the dishcloth I'm already halfway done knitting.
But before that can happen, tomorrow brings another imperative. Noel leaves for his annual busman's holiday to the Toronto International Film Festival long before the sun rises.
What do these two events in my life have to do with each other? Both set me on a frantic scramble to get done what I need to get done, meet deadlines, fulfill my obligations, take care of business, and do my best not to let down the side. In the case of Dish Rag Tag, my part will be done when I hand the box over to the postal worker tomorrow. In the case of Noel's Toronto trip, I'll be on the front lines for most of the next week. (Thankfully, Friday evening through Sunday noon I'll get to hand over the reins to Noel's mother, arriving to stay with the kids while I go up Petitjean Mountain with the members of our incoming class of students.)
I didn't dread Noel's absence in the worst of times because our kids are so delightful and well-mannered. And as the years have gone by, any residual anxiety has pretty much faded; they practically take care of themselves, so other than driving, providing food, and keeping the power tools out of reach, there's not much I have to do that Noel ordinarily does. But if there's one thing that concerns me year after year, it's having everything depend on me -- having to meet all the deadlines, fulfill all the obligations, take care of all the business, and do my best not to let down the family.
It's by no means an impossible feat. Some people do it by themselves three hundred and sixty-five days a year. But it's a change of pace. At some point in the next nine days, I'll be scrambling. Let's hope whatever I'm trying to get done is as easy and as well within my powers as the dishcloth I'm already halfway done knitting.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
It makes me anxious
Today started out with some stress, became remarkably relaxed midday, and then hit the panic button again toward the end.
Stress Up: When I woke up this morning, after a night of heavy rain, I peeped out the front window to find that our street was starting to flood. Worried that it would be difficult to leave the driveway if the water continued to rise, I alerted the kids that we would leave early; the rain slackened and gave me pause, then started coming down cats and dogs again. When we pulled out about 20 minutes before our normal departure time, the depth at our driveway was around mid-hubcap. I killed time getting a drive-thru breakfast and depositing a check before taking the kids around to their school. The rain would almost stop, then come down in torrents, over and over, and the black skies didn't offer any hope it would be ending soon.
Stress Down: At work I watched the weather radar and got reassurance that the southern edge of the system would indeed move past us eventually. I got cracking and did my class prep. Then I found out that our panicky meeting about budget yesterday was a bit too panicky: (a) some expenses had been double-counted, and (b) we could staff courses for the spring without having to hire four more part-timers. Suddenly one of the dark clouds hanging over me for the next two weeks -- namely, how to find people to teach the classes we needed covered -- was unexpectedly lifted.
Stress Back Up: I got a call around 2:30 pm from Noel. "I need your help," he said. "I've lost my wallet." After I picked my stomach off the floor -- what could be worse than losing your wallet in a foreign country? -- I got to work thinking about how to deal. Get Noel the bank phone number so he can have them cancel the debit card. Research online to see if the two checks in the wallet can be pre-emptively stopped, preventing the need to close the account. (Yes, and stopped checks are actually free with the account we have.) Think about if there's anything else potentially damaging in the wallet. (Just a driver's license, but luckily because of the whole crossing-the-border thing, Noel's got a passport with him; he'll have no trouble flying back, although the drive back from the airport will be of questionable legality. Noel doesn't keep cash in his wallet, and he has about 50 CAD left, so with a loan of American cash from his friends up there, he should be able to pay the parking fee and make it home.)
The whole thing is less scary than it first sounded; the major upshot will be the need to replace the driver's license upon his return, and naturally there were a lot of minor cards that will have to be accumulated again -- private club memberships for the liquor-license restaurants here in town, library card, etc. But the danger of identity theft or bank-account draining seems low. It's too bad this annoying and frightening loss happened now and put a pall on Noel's last day at what had been shaping up as a highly successful and enjoyable festival. But it could be worse. Reflecting on that helps me take the stress back down a notch.
Stress Up: When I woke up this morning, after a night of heavy rain, I peeped out the front window to find that our street was starting to flood. Worried that it would be difficult to leave the driveway if the water continued to rise, I alerted the kids that we would leave early; the rain slackened and gave me pause, then started coming down cats and dogs again. When we pulled out about 20 minutes before our normal departure time, the depth at our driveway was around mid-hubcap. I killed time getting a drive-thru breakfast and depositing a check before taking the kids around to their school. The rain would almost stop, then come down in torrents, over and over, and the black skies didn't offer any hope it would be ending soon.
Stress Down: At work I watched the weather radar and got reassurance that the southern edge of the system would indeed move past us eventually. I got cracking and did my class prep. Then I found out that our panicky meeting about budget yesterday was a bit too panicky: (a) some expenses had been double-counted, and (b) we could staff courses for the spring without having to hire four more part-timers. Suddenly one of the dark clouds hanging over me for the next two weeks -- namely, how to find people to teach the classes we needed covered -- was unexpectedly lifted.
Stress Back Up: I got a call around 2:30 pm from Noel. "I need your help," he said. "I've lost my wallet." After I picked my stomach off the floor -- what could be worse than losing your wallet in a foreign country? -- I got to work thinking about how to deal. Get Noel the bank phone number so he can have them cancel the debit card. Research online to see if the two checks in the wallet can be pre-emptively stopped, preventing the need to close the account. (Yes, and stopped checks are actually free with the account we have.) Think about if there's anything else potentially damaging in the wallet. (Just a driver's license, but luckily because of the whole crossing-the-border thing, Noel's got a passport with him; he'll have no trouble flying back, although the drive back from the airport will be of questionable legality. Noel doesn't keep cash in his wallet, and he has about 50 CAD left, so with a loan of American cash from his friends up there, he should be able to pay the parking fee and make it home.)
The whole thing is less scary than it first sounded; the major upshot will be the need to replace the driver's license upon his return, and naturally there were a lot of minor cards that will have to be accumulated again -- private club memberships for the liquor-license restaurants here in town, library card, etc. But the danger of identity theft or bank-account draining seems low. It's too bad this annoying and frightening loss happened now and put a pall on Noel's last day at what had been shaping up as a highly successful and enjoyable festival. But it could be worse. Reflecting on that helps me take the stress back down a notch.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Unexpectedly complex
You know how something seems really simple to you because you do it every day, but then when you describe it to someone, it starts to seem so complicated that you despair of their ever being able to do it themselves?
I'll bet all the parents out there know what I mean, because they've had to describe the pickup or dropoff procedures at their school to grandparents or other surrogates at some point. In my case, it involves driving on the wrong side of the road temporarily so that you don't get sucked into the line of cars going to middle school, and judging when you are safely "in the zone" so your kids can get out of the car but not too far back so you're keeping other cars from getting "in the zone."
Everything went smoothly, except that Cady Gray somehow ended up at the school office at pickup time instead of in the cafeteria where she was supposed to be. Mom was convinced that was because she can't find her way around the school yet, but I believe that the note I wrote, in an excess of caution, informing the teacher that her grandparents would be picking her up somehow was interpreted to meant that she shouldn't go where she normally does. No indication that this caused any upset on Archer's part, though, which is always my main concern when the routine breaks down.
When I got home at 4 pm, Archer was playing Uno with his grandpa and Cady Gray was insulating herself from losing by keeping score. Granny Lou fixed us a terrific meal of tilapia (which Cady Gray loved and Archer sampled with relative enthusiasm), asparagus (ditto and ditto), and squash casserole (yep and yep).
Archer brought home no homework to do, but a big stack of Scholastic Books that truly delighted him (especially Greater Estimations, the sequel to one of the library books he requests over and over). And he reports that he got a prize for getting the most books in the book order -- a prize that I feel is rightfully mine.
I'll bet all the parents out there know what I mean, because they've had to describe the pickup or dropoff procedures at their school to grandparents or other surrogates at some point. In my case, it involves driving on the wrong side of the road temporarily so that you don't get sucked into the line of cars going to middle school, and judging when you are safely "in the zone" so your kids can get out of the car but not too far back so you're keeping other cars from getting "in the zone."
Everything went smoothly, except that Cady Gray somehow ended up at the school office at pickup time instead of in the cafeteria where she was supposed to be. Mom was convinced that was because she can't find her way around the school yet, but I believe that the note I wrote, in an excess of caution, informing the teacher that her grandparents would be picking her up somehow was interpreted to meant that she shouldn't go where she normally does. No indication that this caused any upset on Archer's part, though, which is always my main concern when the routine breaks down.
When I got home at 4 pm, Archer was playing Uno with his grandpa and Cady Gray was insulating herself from losing by keeping score. Granny Lou fixed us a terrific meal of tilapia (which Cady Gray loved and Archer sampled with relative enthusiasm), asparagus (ditto and ditto), and squash casserole (yep and yep).
Archer brought home no homework to do, but a big stack of Scholastic Books that truly delighted him (especially Greater Estimations, the sequel to one of the library books he requests over and over). And he reports that he got a prize for getting the most books in the book order -- a prize that I feel is rightfully mine.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Survival mode
I always get a perverse kind of enjoyment out of the September week when Noel goes to Toronto. Having sole responsibility for kids, parents, and family in general tends to focus the mind admirably. Suddenly everything that can fall away or be put aside, does and is. Yes, I pay for it after his return, when I'm a week behind on long-term projects that gave way during the crisis. But for a brief time, it's clarifying to understand what has to wait and what must be done.
My personal schedule is unusually hectic during this particular trip, given my double-booking on Saturday that will have me trying to be at Hendrix College and on Petitjean Mountain simultaneously. And I will be scrambling far too much the following week if I don't make some headway on two items: the spring course schedule and a new lecture I have to prepare for September 21. But if I can get just a little ways into those responsibilities -- they don't have to be completed while Noel is gone, just started -- then all I have to do otherwise is prepare for each class period as it arrives on the calendar, be present when the meetings happen, make sure the kids get picked up on time and have their lunchboxes full when they're dropped off in the morning, and show up where I'm supposed to be with the right set of notes.
I'll be really glad when Noel returns and I can relax back into normal mode -- the state where labor is divided and I don't have to worry about being responsible for everything. But to the extent that his return will coincide with the expansion of my vision to include those items I was able to put aside, I know I'll also miss the clear priorities of survival mode.
My personal schedule is unusually hectic during this particular trip, given my double-booking on Saturday that will have me trying to be at Hendrix College and on Petitjean Mountain simultaneously. And I will be scrambling far too much the following week if I don't make some headway on two items: the spring course schedule and a new lecture I have to prepare for September 21. But if I can get just a little ways into those responsibilities -- they don't have to be completed while Noel is gone, just started -- then all I have to do otherwise is prepare for each class period as it arrives on the calendar, be present when the meetings happen, make sure the kids get picked up on time and have their lunchboxes full when they're dropped off in the morning, and show up where I'm supposed to be with the right set of notes.
I'll be really glad when Noel returns and I can relax back into normal mode -- the state where labor is divided and I don't have to worry about being responsible for everything. But to the extent that his return will coincide with the expansion of my vision to include those items I was able to put aside, I know I'll also miss the clear priorities of survival mode.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Heading for the hills
Today's post celebrating impromptu fundraising is at Toxophily.
Noel is scheduled to return home a couple of hours from now. It's been a very smooth TIFF week for us -- the kids have by and large been angelic, the grandparents provided me with invaluable school pickup and cookery services, and while work has been up and down, I've had a remarkable lack of anxiety about it all.
There's no doubt that we're ready to return to situation normal, though ... for me, just for a few hours before I take off for the annual mountaintop retreat we provide for our incoming students. Unless Hurricane Ike takes that predicted sharp right turn and blankets Arkansas with rain, we're looking forward to a beautiful and relaxing couple of days away from it all -- reading, knitting, enjoying the company of the remarkable students we've recruited. I have a great book (Home, Marilynn Robinson's followup to Gilead), a bunch of satisfying projects on the needles, and valuable work to be done in helping my charges negotiate the challenge of their first formal paper in the class.
Time enough for that return to normalcy on Sunday.
Noel is scheduled to return home a couple of hours from now. It's been a very smooth TIFF week for us -- the kids have by and large been angelic, the grandparents provided me with invaluable school pickup and cookery services, and while work has been up and down, I've had a remarkable lack of anxiety about it all.
There's no doubt that we're ready to return to situation normal, though ... for me, just for a few hours before I take off for the annual mountaintop retreat we provide for our incoming students. Unless Hurricane Ike takes that predicted sharp right turn and blankets Arkansas with rain, we're looking forward to a beautiful and relaxing couple of days away from it all -- reading, knitting, enjoying the company of the remarkable students we've recruited. I have a great book (Home, Marilynn Robinson's followup to Gilead), a bunch of satisfying projects on the needles, and valuable work to be done in helping my charges negotiate the challenge of their first formal paper in the class.
Time enough for that return to normalcy on Sunday.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Survival
Again it's come to this. Because my life is more hectic and harried in singlemomville than ordinary, I tend to have even fewer ideas for blog posts than normal. (Which practically speaking takes the total into negative numbers.) So the best I'll probably be able to do for the duration is bullet-pointed collections of mundanities of interest only to close friends and family, and really marginal even in those cases. If you get a blog post that's actually got a topic during the next week or so, consider it a bonus. If you want to check out until next Friday, I'll understand.
- The storm finally passed by, and the waters did not rise again; all that dark green and yellow and orange on the radar didn't translate into particularly heavy rain last night. It's been showers and mist all day today, sometimes so fine that a light breeze blows the drops around as if they were snowflakes. While putting the kids back in the car at Archer's school pickup, Cady Gray exclaimed that she was getting wet even those she was sitting in her carseat being buckled in. "I think it's raining in the car, Mom."
- Watched the season premiere of The Shield last night. Even during the "previously on The Shield" recap I was bumfuzzled by the number of complicated storylines I almost forgotten about. Then during the show I was further amazed at the number of balls that were left hanging in the air over the hiatus. It was nice to see that shot of the guys looking at the pile of money train cash, though -- a reminder that what seemed at the time like an inspired but out-of-left-field plotline is going to be the catalyst for the wrap-up of the whole series, and the final fates of all the players (it's already been really final for one).
- Speaking of television, was anybody watching the WSOP coverage of Main Event day one when they showed the quad aces getting beaten in a showdown by a royal flush? Talk about bumfuzzled; I couldn't believe what I'd just seen. Neither could the winner, who called over a photographer to document the cards lying face up on the table.
- Noel and Scott made it safely to Toronto, and last I heard they were schmoozing it up with the likes of Chris Stults and Sam Adams, having great food, and trying to deal with a one-bar internet connection. Here's hoping every day will bring new delights.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
In a TIFF
Tomorrow morning, before the crack of dawn, Noel will head out into the remnants of Gustav on his yearly trip to the Toronto International Film Festival. It's a journey I know he looks forward to every September. Undiscovered cinematic gems, Vietnamese noodle bowls, street hot dogs, and late night poker games with fellow critics await him. (Even later nights trying to blog every film of the festival probably are anticipated less avidly.)
Here at home, my stint as a single mother should not be nearly as difficult as in years previous, at least in the scheduling. Both kids are in school from 8 am to 3 pm, leaving me a generous window for office hours and teaching. The grandparents will be here on Sunday to take over the drop-offs and pick-ups for a few days. And Noel is spending one less day in Toronto than usual, which gives us a cushion of almost 24 hours before I have to leave to spend the weekend on retreat with my department's incoming students.
Once Noel is back from Toronto and I'm back from Petitjean Mountain, we have about a month before the next spate of travel -- which is all me. I'm going to Aarhus, Denmark to deliver a paper at an international conference in mid-October, then less than two weeks later it's time to go to the American Academy of Religion annual meeting in Chicago. In between I'm having to skip my usual visit to the National Collegiate Honors Council annual meeting because of the back-to-back conferences.
I really love traveling alone on academic business, and I know Noel loves the freedom and immersion in adult concerns, too. Because the logistical hurdles aren't as great as in years past, I don't feel nearly as stressed about the time on my own -- which means I can wish Noel a pleasant trip with real sincerity.
Here at home, my stint as a single mother should not be nearly as difficult as in years previous, at least in the scheduling. Both kids are in school from 8 am to 3 pm, leaving me a generous window for office hours and teaching. The grandparents will be here on Sunday to take over the drop-offs and pick-ups for a few days. And Noel is spending one less day in Toronto than usual, which gives us a cushion of almost 24 hours before I have to leave to spend the weekend on retreat with my department's incoming students.
Once Noel is back from Toronto and I'm back from Petitjean Mountain, we have about a month before the next spate of travel -- which is all me. I'm going to Aarhus, Denmark to deliver a paper at an international conference in mid-October, then less than two weeks later it's time to go to the American Academy of Religion annual meeting in Chicago. In between I'm having to skip my usual visit to the National Collegiate Honors Council annual meeting because of the back-to-back conferences.
I really love traveling alone on academic business, and I know Noel loves the freedom and immersion in adult concerns, too. Because the logistical hurdles aren't as great as in years past, I don't feel nearly as stressed about the time on my own -- which means I can wish Noel a pleasant trip with real sincerity.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Report from Hoople: Day 9 (Wherein I Get Sneaky)
Spirits were high throughout most of our last full day of Toronto Exile '07. Even though Noel's mom left this morning, I knew I could manage. I took both kids to Archer's therapy at 4 pm, and while he was playing games with his therapists, Cady Gray and I took a walk around the fountain. We went to the Chinese buffet afterwards, where the kids behaved beautifully and got their usual two desserts (soft serve ice cream + fortune cookie). No problem with pajama time, then they settled in for their daily dose of Legends of the Hidden Temple.
When Noel called, I paused the show and let Cady Gray talk to him first. She handed the phone to Archer when she was done, but in the process of fumbling it to his ear, he hung it up. I assured Archer that Dad would call back, but it took an agonizing minute (during which Noel called the wrong number), and Archer kept saying, with mounting anxiety, "I need to call Dad!" When the phone finally rang, both children were in full-on freakout mode, Archer's screaming having sent Cady Gray over the edge as well. Archer toned it down long enough to talk to Dad, but the damage was done. Even after turning the show back on, I couldn't retreat to discuss pickup plans with Noel because Cady Gray was coming to me in tears about Archer sitting in her chair.
Poor Noel could barely get a word in edgewise between the two kids' crying fits, even in a short conversation. My first thought was, "Oh crap, Noel probably doesn't want to come home now." My second thought was, "Actually, he probably feels really guilty right now about leaving me alone to deal with this for 10 days." And you know, the truth is doubtless closer to the latter than the former. At least, that's how I always feel when I call from work or a trip and discover that Noel's had to weather some rough childcare seas.
But the fact is that we had an excellent day, without a smidgen of trouble from either child, until the unfortunately phone mishap. Yes, one mishap tends to lead to another, as the children get anxious that none of their needs will be met and respond by making increasingly shrill demands. But if it all starts 20 minutes before bedtime, hey, I can handle it. It'll be over soon, one way or another.
It's been a very smooth week and a half for all of us (I say confidently, tempting the fates to challenge that conclusion during the remaining 20 hours of the ordeal). I got frustrated on Saturday and came close to the frayed end of the rope. There were a couple of blood-pressure raising moments in the last hour today. But other than that -- and in all sincerity -- I've felt happy, relaxed, and glad to be spending so much time with my smart, funny, happy, adorable, loving children. There are surely no other two siblings on the face of the earth that could have made this so easy.
Now come on home, honey, so I can toss my overnight bag in the car and zoom off to Petitjean Mountain for a weekend of reading, knitting, and socializing with people old enough to vote.
When Noel called, I paused the show and let Cady Gray talk to him first. She handed the phone to Archer when she was done, but in the process of fumbling it to his ear, he hung it up. I assured Archer that Dad would call back, but it took an agonizing minute (during which Noel called the wrong number), and Archer kept saying, with mounting anxiety, "I need to call Dad!" When the phone finally rang, both children were in full-on freakout mode, Archer's screaming having sent Cady Gray over the edge as well. Archer toned it down long enough to talk to Dad, but the damage was done. Even after turning the show back on, I couldn't retreat to discuss pickup plans with Noel because Cady Gray was coming to me in tears about Archer sitting in her chair.
Poor Noel could barely get a word in edgewise between the two kids' crying fits, even in a short conversation. My first thought was, "Oh crap, Noel probably doesn't want to come home now." My second thought was, "Actually, he probably feels really guilty right now about leaving me alone to deal with this for 10 days." And you know, the truth is doubtless closer to the latter than the former. At least, that's how I always feel when I call from work or a trip and discover that Noel's had to weather some rough childcare seas.
But the fact is that we had an excellent day, without a smidgen of trouble from either child, until the unfortunately phone mishap. Yes, one mishap tends to lead to another, as the children get anxious that none of their needs will be met and respond by making increasingly shrill demands. But if it all starts 20 minutes before bedtime, hey, I can handle it. It'll be over soon, one way or another.
It's been a very smooth week and a half for all of us (I say confidently, tempting the fates to challenge that conclusion during the remaining 20 hours of the ordeal). I got frustrated on Saturday and came close to the frayed end of the rope. There were a couple of blood-pressure raising moments in the last hour today. But other than that -- and in all sincerity -- I've felt happy, relaxed, and glad to be spending so much time with my smart, funny, happy, adorable, loving children. There are surely no other two siblings on the face of the earth that could have made this so easy.
Now come on home, honey, so I can toss my overnight bag in the car and zoom off to Petitjean Mountain for a weekend of reading, knitting, and socializing with people old enough to vote.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Report from Hoople: Day 8 (Bugles!)
Thanks to the good graces of Faithful Readers Ali and Dave, we were treated to hamburgers and hot dogs off the grill, sweet corn, and the spectacle of kids running blissfully free in somebody else's backyard. Thanks to the vigilance of Grandma Libby (who never lets down her guard even after two glasses of cab sav) Archer's magnadoodle was retrieved from the toy pile before we pulled out of the driveway. Thanks to Father Time, we're only two days away from Noel's return. It's a day to be grateful.
I hope you've been reading Noel's dispatches from Toronto on the A.V. Club blog. (And my pal Scott's, too, of course -- both of them are earning their keep up there.) He's seen a number of big fall releases that live up to the hype, but not as many discoveries to champion, promote, and feel passionate ownership about as in previous years. Even though I know he was probably ready to come home, in some ways, right around 6 pm Monday, I still envy him the chance to absolutely wallow in film in a city that is temporarily the cinematic capital of the world. It will be a long time before we get to do that together, if ever.
On the bright side, here's my list of Things I've Gotten Around To During My Husband's Absence:
I hope you've been reading Noel's dispatches from Toronto on the A.V. Club blog. (And my pal Scott's, too, of course -- both of them are earning their keep up there.) He's seen a number of big fall releases that live up to the hype, but not as many discoveries to champion, promote, and feel passionate ownership about as in previous years. Even though I know he was probably ready to come home, in some ways, right around 6 pm Monday, I still envy him the chance to absolutely wallow in film in a city that is temporarily the cinematic capital of the world. It will be a long time before we get to do that together, if ever.
On the bright side, here's my list of Things I've Gotten Around To During My Husband's Absence:
- reading all my 153 RSS feeds
- transferring all my 153 RSS feeds into a new aggregator
- obsessively checking each episode of The Soup that records on the &*#$% DVR to make sure it's a repeat of the one I already have saved so I can delete it
- thinking seriously about whether I need these
- wishing I had a copy of this so I could just spend all night popping through them one by one like salted peanuts
- reading a book that made me cry every time I picked it up
- rediscovering what happens when you don't bathe every day
- going to bed with earrings and a watch on, and waking up in the morning with one of the earrings missing
- temporarily setting aside guilt about 24/7 kidblogging
- marking the fourth anniversary of my annual failure to get said husband anything for his birthday, which always falls in the middle of Toronto, providing me a convenient excuse for laxness which actually has nothing to do with the trip.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Report From Hoople: Day One (Wherein I Build An Ark)
Nota Bene: For the next nine days, this blog will function primarily as a Remote Parental Communication Device. Do not expect reflective content. School behavior, potty-related issues, bathing schedules, and bedtime crying jags will be faithfully recorded for the benefit of the Temporarily Canadian Spouse. All other visitors should plan to read this instead, for the duration.
Nothing like a little car trouble to start TIFF '07 on a stressful note. And my jangled nerves were not improved by the Hurricane Henriette-related deluge that hit us this morning. I waded to work through ankle-deep water flowing over every paved surface and actually cried out in shock when a lightning strike about a half-mile away split my eardrums. I fretted much of the morning worrying that the steady downpour would flood our street and make it difficult to get back to the house, where a kindly friend (hey, Ali!) was watching Cady Gray.
But the rain had slackened by 1 pm, when I drove home after my freshman class, and the new drainage channels that the street department put in this summer evidently performed like a champ. Cady Gray was still sitting at the table carefully eating raisins out of her Lunchable, one by one, as she'd been doing for nearly an hour. Ali said that they talked about "opposites" and "science."
Being the mooch that I am, I traded on Ali's inherent goodness a bit more before I let her leave. She had picked up and fed my child; now I asked her to drive with us to the garage where the Subaru sat with a new battery (grrr, that really couldn't have been it), waiting to be retrieved. That being accomplished, I removed my vehicle from its strategic position blocking her in the driveway (under the theory that even goodness such as Ali's might need a little persuading).
Two cars in the garage, no waiting. Cady Gray took a late nap with minimal protests. An hour and twenty minutes to myself in the early afternoon! What better way to fill it than happily setting up Google Reader with my 153 subscriptions? For some reason Safari won't connect to any of my feeds anymore, and besides I'm getting tired of navigating very long bookmark menus over and over again to page through all my reading material. It's suddenly also apparent to me that I don't need to be reliant on a browser platform to bring me my preferred feeds -- when I'm at work, using Firefox, or otherwise surfing on another computer than my MacBook, I'm unable to access those Safari menus where the complete list is stored. Like so many technological tools, the true usefulness of Google Reader (or another web-based aggregator) doesn't become evident until you've committed to thinking inside a new box. The greatest genius of Google Reader? A "Next >>" bookmarklet you can drag to your browser menu bar. Click on it anytime, and it will take you to the next site in your subscription list (not to the feed -- to the actual site). Is there any easier way to page through the list of sites you read every day?
At 3 pm I got Cady Gray up, secured her in the car with juice, and went to school to pick up Archer. He came out beaming, with three Good As Gold stickers on his chest, and told me the story of how he got them ("good job being a leader," "paying attention in music class," "good job playing a game in P.E." -- the game in question apparently being Pac-Man (!) wherein "if the ghosts catch Ms. Miller, game over!"). A trip to Sonic for my usual gargantuan soda, and then home for Yo Gabba Gabba and playtime. Then I solidified my mommy credentials by putting food on the table for my children, getting one bathed and both in pajamas, brushing their teeth, supervising the reading of two bedtime stories, and tucking them into bed.
Cady Gray has developed the unpleasant habit of insisting that I be the one to read her bedtime books to her, then whining and crying when the reading is over and it's time for me to leave. With negligible success, we've started asking her to promise us that she won't whine and cry at bedtime. Before she and I depart for her bedroom, Noel takes both of her little hands in his and asks for her solemn promise.
Tonight after we read our books in her rocking chair, after Archer said his goodnights and went to his room, Cady Gray said, "I'll make a solemn promise, Mom." So I took her hands and she said, "I will not whine and cry, Mom." "Great," I said, "do you want me to tuck you in?" This is usually where it all goes south as she begins to protest incoherently -- promises be damned -- against the end of our time together. But tonight, apparently realizing there was no Daddy to come in and finalize the bedtime deal, she just nodded happily and let me put her under her covers. I praised her extravagantly for her bravery. Twice so far she's called out to me for "a toy" (her usual request when she demands a return parental visit to her room), but with nary a frown or a tear in sight. It's early yet, but our experience has been that when the custodial situation shifts due to the absence of Mom or Dayd, the kids feel some additional pressure to behave. At the very least, bedtime was a markedly more tranquil experience than it's been anytime in the last month.
Nothing like a little car trouble to start TIFF '07 on a stressful note. And my jangled nerves were not improved by the Hurricane Henriette-related deluge that hit us this morning. I waded to work through ankle-deep water flowing over every paved surface and actually cried out in shock when a lightning strike about a half-mile away split my eardrums. I fretted much of the morning worrying that the steady downpour would flood our street and make it difficult to get back to the house, where a kindly friend (hey, Ali!) was watching Cady Gray.
But the rain had slackened by 1 pm, when I drove home after my freshman class, and the new drainage channels that the street department put in this summer evidently performed like a champ. Cady Gray was still sitting at the table carefully eating raisins out of her Lunchable, one by one, as she'd been doing for nearly an hour. Ali said that they talked about "opposites" and "science."
Being the mooch that I am, I traded on Ali's inherent goodness a bit more before I let her leave. She had picked up and fed my child; now I asked her to drive with us to the garage where the Subaru sat with a new battery (grrr, that really couldn't have been it), waiting to be retrieved. That being accomplished, I removed my vehicle from its strategic position blocking her in the driveway (under the theory that even goodness such as Ali's might need a little persuading).
Two cars in the garage, no waiting. Cady Gray took a late nap with minimal protests. An hour and twenty minutes to myself in the early afternoon! What better way to fill it than happily setting up Google Reader with my 153 subscriptions? For some reason Safari won't connect to any of my feeds anymore, and besides I'm getting tired of navigating very long bookmark menus over and over again to page through all my reading material. It's suddenly also apparent to me that I don't need to be reliant on a browser platform to bring me my preferred feeds -- when I'm at work, using Firefox, or otherwise surfing on another computer than my MacBook, I'm unable to access those Safari menus where the complete list is stored. Like so many technological tools, the true usefulness of Google Reader (or another web-based aggregator) doesn't become evident until you've committed to thinking inside a new box. The greatest genius of Google Reader? A "Next >>" bookmarklet you can drag to your browser menu bar. Click on it anytime, and it will take you to the next site in your subscription list (not to the feed -- to the actual site). Is there any easier way to page through the list of sites you read every day?
At 3 pm I got Cady Gray up, secured her in the car with juice, and went to school to pick up Archer. He came out beaming, with three Good As Gold stickers on his chest, and told me the story of how he got them ("good job being a leader," "paying attention in music class," "good job playing a game in P.E." -- the game in question apparently being Pac-Man (!) wherein "if the ghosts catch Ms. Miller, game over!"). A trip to Sonic for my usual gargantuan soda, and then home for Yo Gabba Gabba and playtime. Then I solidified my mommy credentials by putting food on the table for my children, getting one bathed and both in pajamas, brushing their teeth, supervising the reading of two bedtime stories, and tucking them into bed.
Cady Gray has developed the unpleasant habit of insisting that I be the one to read her bedtime books to her, then whining and crying when the reading is over and it's time for me to leave. With negligible success, we've started asking her to promise us that she won't whine and cry at bedtime. Before she and I depart for her bedroom, Noel takes both of her little hands in his and asks for her solemn promise.
Tonight after we read our books in her rocking chair, after Archer said his goodnights and went to his room, Cady Gray said, "I'll make a solemn promise, Mom." So I took her hands and she said, "I will not whine and cry, Mom." "Great," I said, "do you want me to tuck you in?" This is usually where it all goes south as she begins to protest incoherently -- promises be damned -- against the end of our time together. But tonight, apparently realizing there was no Daddy to come in and finalize the bedtime deal, she just nodded happily and let me put her under her covers. I praised her extravagantly for her bravery. Twice so far she's called out to me for "a toy" (her usual request when she demands a return parental visit to her room), but with nary a frown or a tear in sight. It's early yet, but our experience has been that when the custodial situation shifts due to the absence of Mom or Dayd, the kids feel some additional pressure to behave. At the very least, bedtime was a markedly more tranquil experience than it's been anytime in the last month.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Everything changes
Today we had our first measurable rainfall in over a month.
Today, after driving home from work and running inside for 90 seconds to grab the food for Bethlehem House, the car wouldn't start. Wouldn't even turn over. This is the car Noel was going to take to the airport tomorrow,
Today I hunted down a screwdriver and pried the little cover off the transmission override switch so I could put the dead car in neutral and push it out of the way of the working car it was blocking, so I could take the food to Bethlehem House. In the rain, the first rain we've had in a month.
Today I didn't get the parking tag out of the dead car as it was being towed, the parking tag that will allow me to park the working car at work tomorrow after I take the kids to school.
Today we suddenly have no plan for how to get Noel home for the airport in 10 days. (A kindly neighbor is leaving for work an hour and a half early in order to drop him by on her way.)
Today I suddenly realize that I was always one dead car away from disaster, whether that car is in the shop here in town or sitting in an airport parking lot.
Tomorrow the experiment in improvisation that is Noel's annual trip to TIFF '07 begins. Let's hope most of the big surprises arrived 12 hours early.
Today, after driving home from work and running inside for 90 seconds to grab the food for Bethlehem House, the car wouldn't start. Wouldn't even turn over. This is the car Noel was going to take to the airport tomorrow,
Today I hunted down a screwdriver and pried the little cover off the transmission override switch so I could put the dead car in neutral and push it out of the way of the working car it was blocking, so I could take the food to Bethlehem House. In the rain, the first rain we've had in a month.
Today I didn't get the parking tag out of the dead car as it was being towed, the parking tag that will allow me to park the working car at work tomorrow after I take the kids to school.
Today we suddenly have no plan for how to get Noel home for the airport in 10 days. (A kindly neighbor is leaving for work an hour and a half early in order to drop him by on her way.)
Today I suddenly realize that I was always one dead car away from disaster, whether that car is in the shop here in town or sitting in an airport parking lot.
Tomorrow the experiment in improvisation that is Noel's annual trip to TIFF '07 begins. Let's hope most of the big surprises arrived 12 hours early.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Long weekend
For single and childless folk, holiday weekends are times to get away and escape a day or two of work. For those of us with school-age kids, it's an added day that we have to entertain the rugrats instead of letting the teachers do it. To add insult to injury, places that we depend upon for weekly rounds of kidutainment, like the public library, close all weekend long. Even getting some chores done -- like the haircut Archer needs -- have proven beyond our powers, as service establishments shut their doors in our faces and fire up the barbecues.
So we've made do with a rather steamy playground visit and a largely unnecessary Target run to get the kids out of the house. Tomorrow, though, we've got bookings -- a picnic by the lake and a birthday party -- backloaded in the late afternoon. Zilch for the long, long morning, though. Probably another trip to Target for birthday presents (nothing like going on a whim to produce three or four more trips, since you have no idea what you really need to get), maybe a stroll down the Tucker Creek trail, and lunch at some establishment too strapped for cash to be able to close down for the holiday.
And then le deluge. Tuesday Archer and I are back in school, both kids have their yearly check-ups, and Noel will be making final preparations to fly to Toronto early Wednesday morning for his annual TIFF vacation. 10 days, 2 kids, 1 grandma (for 4 of those days), 4 schools (Archer's, mine, and 2 different ones for CG depending on what day it is), 10 breakfasts, 8 sack lunches, 9 what-am-I-going-to-make-for dinners, 13 drop-offs, 11 pick-ups, 18 bedtimes. Number of wet or soiled underpants, toy crises, trips to the emergency room, etc. yet to be determined. We've been mentally preparing ourselves for a week -- Noel to leave (he's been collecting clothes and toiletries for his suitcase since this past Wednesday) and me to stay (rehearsing as I walk to school the order in which I need to take the kids to their various destinations for maximum timeliness, and resolutely refusing to think about things like dinnertimes).
Since I'm still enthralled by my polygamy memoir -- in which the writer spends months at a time in Mexican adobe huts caring for the 25 children in the plural brood on her own, while the other wives and her husband work in the States -- I'm not inclined to exaggerate the difficulties I will face. Nevertheless, I'm sure the burden will be quite enough for my pampered behind.
So we've made do with a rather steamy playground visit and a largely unnecessary Target run to get the kids out of the house. Tomorrow, though, we've got bookings -- a picnic by the lake and a birthday party -- backloaded in the late afternoon. Zilch for the long, long morning, though. Probably another trip to Target for birthday presents (nothing like going on a whim to produce three or four more trips, since you have no idea what you really need to get), maybe a stroll down the Tucker Creek trail, and lunch at some establishment too strapped for cash to be able to close down for the holiday.
And then le deluge. Tuesday Archer and I are back in school, both kids have their yearly check-ups, and Noel will be making final preparations to fly to Toronto early Wednesday morning for his annual TIFF vacation. 10 days, 2 kids, 1 grandma (for 4 of those days), 4 schools (Archer's, mine, and 2 different ones for CG depending on what day it is), 10 breakfasts, 8 sack lunches, 9 what-am-I-going-to-make-for dinners, 13 drop-offs, 11 pick-ups, 18 bedtimes. Number of wet or soiled underpants, toy crises, trips to the emergency room, etc. yet to be determined. We've been mentally preparing ourselves for a week -- Noel to leave (he's been collecting clothes and toiletries for his suitcase since this past Wednesday) and me to stay (rehearsing as I walk to school the order in which I need to take the kids to their various destinations for maximum timeliness, and resolutely refusing to think about things like dinnertimes).
Since I'm still enthralled by my polygamy memoir -- in which the writer spends months at a time in Mexican adobe huts caring for the 25 children in the plural brood on her own, while the other wives and her husband work in the States -- I'm not inclined to exaggerate the difficulties I will face. Nevertheless, I'm sure the burden will be quite enough for my pampered behind.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
