EVEN WHEN I'M MOVING SLOWLY I HAVE WORDS TO SQUEEZE OUT

Listen, I was terribly tired this week. Time was not on my side and that always feels unfair, even if we all know that time is one of the most fair distributions of things that ever was and can be. It's frightfully relative in its perception. The slipping away of time can raise feelings of despair and crankiness in you like you wouldn't believe. If you've been there you know what I mean when I describe that slightly bewildered feeling that you get when you pass by a mirror and get a glimpse and think. 'Wait, who is that?'.... is that what I look like right now?' And no amount of fixing will do. You take a deep breath, and just keep going, sludging along the best you can.

I can pretend to be 100% chipper, but I am what I am, and what I am is still tired. So I'm 80% chipper and 20% in the depths of despair. I'm a little bit in the fog, and this is what winter is like for me, but now with an extra layer of can-a-girl-get-some-sleep. There are hours in the day when I feel wholly unlike myself. 

Most of that to say, my main goal for this past weekend was to try to sleep as early as possible. I got my bod into the bed at 9:30 on Friday night but my crazy brain WOULD NOT SHUT DOWN when I needed it to.  The next night was no better and the baby felt a tortured need to climb into bed with me at 3AM and press down every part of my face with her fingers. 

We had a couple of visitors while Ken was away this past weekend. We breakfasted with one of them, had a relaxing afternoon with another, and then had some lady time just me and my baby at the mall. 

Sloane surprised me several times this past weekend. One of these times was after her bath on Friday night. She went around to all the rooms on the second floor, to pull each door shut, one by one.  Her method is as such: she pulls the door to as close to the frame as possible, and then gets up on the tippest of her toes to grab the underbelly of the doorknob and pull it until it clicks shut. 

Another one of these moments was when we were at the mall. I meant to pop into one store for just one quick thing, but it was a blessed sunny day and Sloane was so into perusing the items that we made an afternoon out of it. This little girl of mine is FULL of opinions.  My eyes got wider and wider as she would say "yes" this and no" that to colors and items of clothing, and Sloane do you remember the time when you were convinced that a yellow shirt, and only a yellow one, would do?? 

Oh the conversations we have. It's a skill, and a privilege, talking artfully to a one and a half year old.  And why is it so fun siting in a mall food court with my one and a half year old, munching on chicken and fruit, people-watching together? 

I'm clenching these moments in my hands, to give it a good hard squeeze, as if it was a sponge or those hand exercise ball thingies. I know they won't last. It's as simple as that. 

You know what's funny? I sometimes catch myself calling Sloane, "Eunice", my baby sister's name.  Eunice is not a baby anymore, she is one of my best friends, but that older sister thing, it's built in real deep, you know? 

If you are a thrillseeker and are used to the high and lows, then parenting a toddler might be right up your alley. Just a different kind of alley. There are moments of euphoria when you don't think anything could be better and then they're our moments of absolute exhaustion. There's also the element of unpredictability and surprise so you never really know what's going to happen - which can be a good thing if you are an adventurer or a terrible thing if you are a planner.  I feel glad to be a little bit of both.

This post was meant to be a recap of a weekend, but it's a little bit all over the place, and you'll forgive me if you made it to the end. One last thing. I'm still (slowly) marching through Gilead, a few pages here and there whenever I can steal a moment alone.  I read this passage in it the other day and clutched the book to my heart, "True Love!" I sighed: 

"Last time she brought back a copy of The Trail of the Lonesome Pine that was worn ragged, all held together with tape. She just sank into it, though, she just melted into it. And I made scrambled eggs and toasted cheese sandwiches for our supper so she wouldn't have to put the book down."

AIN'T THAT THE TRUTH!

I saw this illustration by Sarah Lazarovic on Cup of Jo the other day and felt that thrill of belonging. You know, of belonging to a group of people so big that it includes people who would illustrate a pie graph version of how it feels to be in the middle of this winter, or in the middle of winter in general. It's still unnerving to be in what appears to be the fifth month of winter, but I will take a small measure of comfort in things like this. If you see me this week and wonder why my face looks the way it does- it's the brave face that I put on for this week. 

WALKING AND TALKING

i'm pretty sure that everyone's lives would be made that much better if they had sisters like mine. Also, I am of the persuasion that my own life would be made more spectacular if my sisters and I lived near one another, but I'll take what I can get in the meanwhile.

This time's get was talking and walking around. Talking and walking, and then sitting and eating, is largely therapeutic if it's with the right people, you know. 

Eating wise, we squeezed in Mediterranean fare, including a really good tabbouleh, Russian tea and cakes, fish stew with a spicy salad, and a makeshift ramen bowl.

It is such a marvelous thing to be known and to know. And beyond that that, to know and be known while you grow and change. Because we are all heavily in that right now, aren't we? I'm a 30 year old who is extremely busy with the business of growing up. 

I'm finally making my way through Marilyn Robinson's 'Gilead' and I'll leave you with this sentence that jumped out at me the other day: "Existence seems to me now the most remarkable thing that could ever be imagined."

I LOVE THE EXTRA DAYLIGHT BUT BABIES ARE CONFUSED

I had a much needed couple of days away with my sisters last weekend. We missed our cousin Lois who was also supposed to join us but we near made it up with an epic google hangout that spanned Seoul, Atlanta, Peru, Toyko and DC. Like we do. More on the weekend later, but I thought I'd sneak peek a couple of sweet spots that I sucked up in my phone. As soon as I got there we had some face time action with our mom who relayed to us details of her jaunt through eastern Europe and the Mediterranean last month and my sister described a little bit of being in Paris last week while we snacked on blood oranges and paprika crackers, all washed down with hot coffee. Later that afternoon we stopped by the cutest Russian restaurant, Mari Vanna, for tea, cocktails and honey cake. Even though I can't travel right now, I sure am getting enough whiffs of it in these types of doses to tend to my wanderlust.

Ken and Sloane were visiting her grandma the same weekend and after the first morning back when she was extremely clingy, Ken hypothesized that she must have missed me terribly but then when I dropped her off at daycare yesterday morning she excitedly ran off to play with her friends with barely a distracted goodbye and i suspect there is something else going on.  Just in the past few days, she all of sudden doesn't want to go to bed, woke up at 3:30 AM to hang out, then wants to hang around my neck like a monkey all morning while I'm trying to get ready and didn't eat a single bit of dinner last night. All normal things I'm sure, especially  at this age, but I'm looking for a secondary culprit because it is wearing on the routine that we have going and on me too, especially since it is coinciding with an extremely busy week. Can I attribute some of this to daylight savings? it's a thing apparently. Babies too are like, wait, why the heck are we doing this daylight savings thing anyway? 

I find myself thinking several times during the week that if I'm asked the question of what super power I would want, I would readily answer that I would want the ability to stop time. Time, these days, is the most precious of treasures.

MY BODY IS TIRED BUT MY SPIRIT IS HIGH

 I took this shot of Monument Avenue last week after it snowed and couldn't help imagining that all these houses looked like they were feeling a little uptight and tired of the cold weather, too. But with daylight savings, things are looking up! That extra daylight, warmer days like this past weekend, and being able to hang out with my sisters are keeping my spirit high.

...as are these things: 


1. Currently listening to Haim's album

2. I started a bullet journal last week, and I am LOVING it.

3. 10 Creative Rituals You Should Steal

4.  I want to try this Ikea hack

5. A really great piece of investigative journalism. 

6. A fascinating documentary about income inequality in America. 

7. An essay about how Tolstoy blasted Shakespeare by George Orwell for the literary nerds.

8. Beautiful photos by Alain Laboile documenting his children.

SLOANE AT 19 MONTHS

At Sloane’s 18 month check-up, the doctor asked us a series of questions, some of which included inquiry about what she was eating and how many words she was saying. My answer to both questions at the time were vague, something along the lines of ‘pretty much everything’ and ‘a lot!’, respectively, but when I got home I decided I should start a list to document the details of such things. It appeals to both the list-making and documentarian side of me. However, this post might only be interesting to you if you like reading lists. Onwards, for posterity:

Songs that Sloane requests:
Ba ba black sheep, Hallelujah, Doh-a-deer, Eye-eye-eye (Korean nursery rhyme), and a few others 

Books that we read together:
Where the Wild Things Are, The Runaway Bunny, Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes, The Snowy Day, Dr. Seuss' ABC, The Quiet Book, Baby Mustache, Jesus Story Book Bible, Little Blue, Love You Forever, Hush Little Baby, Goodnight Baby

Books that she's 'reading' from my bookshelf (the books she likes to take down and pretend to read):
War and Peace, Mrs. Dalloway, Knowing God, A Grief Observed

Words that Sloane knows (knows, as in, can say and/or understand):
Mommy, papa, rusty, neinei, popo, halmuhni, halabuhji, Paul, Val, Sharon eemo, Eunice eemo, gugu
Me, mine, stop, this, here ("here?" she'll ask) see ("I see!" translation, "i want to see!"), brush, paper, cap
Apple, beet, bread, banana, sweet potato, spinach, chicken, cracker, milk, water, bowl, fork, eat, cup, door, moon, snow, car, pepper, hot, cold, more, owl, giraffe, dog, duck, wet, heart, star, pockets, stockings, towel, bird, ear, eye, nose, mouth, eyebrow, hair, knee, belly, belly button, feet, toes, hands, fingers, shirt, shoes, pants, socks, jacket, jump, dance, snow, thank you, please, no, yes, teeth, floor, door, window, wash, bath, down, sit ("sit down!"), up, help, me ("me?" translation, "is it my turn?).... She seems to learn a new word everyday. 

Food that she eats:
Avocado, broccoli, brussels sprouts, spinach, green beans, sweet potato, beets, carrots, green peas, turnips, acorn squash, all kinds of squash, peppers (green, red, yellow), edamame, dumplings, mushrooms, kale, beans, ALL kinds of fruit, eggs, zataar, guacamole, mango chicken curry, plantain lasagna, bread, peanut butter, meatballs, steak, chicken, fish, butternut squash soup, grilled chicken, brie, asiago, brown rice, noodles....Basically, anything we eat. 

Animal sounds that she knows: 
cat (meow), dog (ruff), lion (roar), horse (neigh), frog (ribbit), monkey (ah ah oo), chicken (cluck cluck), duck (quack quack), cow (moo)

 Learning:
She recognizes letters of the alphabet on her blocks, in magazines and books, on t-shirts and excitedly points them out. She’s learning colors and numbers, too. As a side note, I am not in any particular rush to get her to learn these things. She is learning some at her daycare and Ken and I point these things out to her whenever we see them around us, and she seems eager to learn. 

Things she likes to play: 
Stacking blocks, putting things away, putting items from one place to another (box to bag, bag to Tupperware, etc.), ‘pretending’ to take pictures and talk on the phone, pretending to drink and eat from empty cups and bowls, taking care of her stuffed animals, putting her stuffed animals to bed, dancing, being chased, covering things with a blanket and rediscovering the thing over and over again, ‘reading’, opening and closing anything that can be – pens, boxes, containers, purses, cabinets, etc., helping me put the utensils away from the dishwasher and helping me load the dryer, jumping, rolling around, copying anything that Ken and I do….Every few days she discovers some new thing and way to play with something, this list is endless. 

A note about these pictures:

Sloane loves parading around in my sunglasses, so I picked up a pair for her at Target. These are them that she is wearing here. We put them on when we got outside and usually she gets goofy and cheesy with the glasses, but this particular time, she went into this zone where she just went very still behind the glasses. Thus, the I'm-too-cool-for-school vibe here. 

SOUP PARTY.... ALSO KNOWN AS THE SOUPER BOWL

Okay, so honestly, I almost didn't write this post because I didn't want to write yet another post about how winter is dragging on and on and cramping everyone's style. But I'm turning it around because this get together was actually about celebrating good parts of winter, which is the cozying up parts. You know, cozying up with friends and stuffing oneself with amazing soups, bread, cheeses and wine. You should have seen the grin on my face that night, surrounded by babies, friends and barely taking a breath while sampling soups in between bites of hearty bread. The winter-that-seemingly-never-ends or no, I'll be fine. 

p.s. I blogged a little more about the details of the party over at apartment therapy if you want to check it out and here are some photos from the night from my friend Laura's blog.

MEMORY LANES

I have such feelings about this town where Ken and I went to college.

The 2 hour drive up felt quick.  Ken and I listening to Ken’s ‘get-hyped’ playlist, and Sloane in the back, steadily working through her bag of diced apples. She was all business about those apples.

Because it was so long ago, it almost feels now as though I dreamed up the time that we spent there.  It is as if I don’t actually believe it exists in reality. So as we drive up those gorgeous mountains and into the town,  it’s startling to realize that it’s real and keeps on existing even while we are away from it.  I guess I feel a smidge this way about all the places that I have lived, but college most especially because it was such a set apart space – both in location and for the significance in my life.

It’s a sweet ache, but I also have pangs of regret about this time, too. Calm down, I think everything happened for a real good reason but I’m asserting the right to say I wish I had done certain things differently.  As I drove around that day, I kept thinking about the kind of person that I was, thinking about how much I was struggling to find myself then. How much I was trying to find true peace.

I had plans that were going to involve taking a walk through downtown but I lasted about 5 minutes at the farmer’s market. It was cold and windy and even the prospect of cinnamon rolls wasn’t going to be enough to keep me outside. Sloane’s face was bright red with cold and so we scuttled indoors to the nearest Target to pick up some things for the day. We also tried on shoes; Sloane pointed to all the ones that she wanted to try on and we had ourselves a ball.

We were there for a volleyball tournament and Ken was abuzz with energy all morning on the drive up. I’ve said this before, right? How I love the way he loves things? When he loves something, he lays it all out there, which makes it great fun to watch him do things like play volleyball. He’s good at it and he constantly wants to get better.  I’ve watched a lot of volleyball in these past few years, A LOT, and from that experience I know that he is the kind of player that is really fun to watch. He works hard and plays smart.  I’m not just saying that because I’m married to him, although that may have something with the pride I feel well up when I see him play his heart out.

We ended the day with a late dinner at one of our favorite places to eat, A&T’s, where my love of Peruvian chicken first began. A friend met us there and we were all exhausted after a day filled with volleyball, basketball, driving and toddler-wrangling, but we enjoyed the heck out of that food, Sloane included. The drive back home was painful, but we made it.

Way too early the next morning, Sloane got me up and we headed downstairs to see what the day had in store for us. I started in on the dishes and Sloane went to go see about the books in the bookshelf. When I turned around, I saw that she had picked out “Mrs. Dalloway” and was sitting at her table with it, fully engaged in its pages. She spent some time picking out the letters of the alphabet she recognized and then proceeded to flip through and ‘read’ aloud from the book, with earnest and passionate tones. According to Sloane, the story went something like, “koba shona aka jahb…” 

I am ever so conscious that I'm walking down this particular lane of life right now with my quickly growing daughter and that all this will become the faintest of memories all too soon, and I am already wracked with the sweetness and the ache of a fleeting time. So this upcoming week, it's not just a week to get through, I'm paving a lane and I'm hoping it goes slowly so that I have time to create all the grooves and dips that I will revisit in my mind years down the road.

DREAMING AND WAKING MY WAY TO A DAY WHEN I MIGHT HAVE COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SLEEP

Yesterday morning was one of those mornings that I woke up feeling like I might still be asleep and I couldn't quite tell.

If I was dreaming, the dream went something like: Sloane was in a good mood. Ken was reluctant to get out of bed so early. I was surprised to discover it was light out at 6:15AM, I ate bagels. Eden wrapped her fingers through my hair. We prayed. I got to work and drank three cups or coffee. My necklace felt heavy and gave me a headache.

There are things like this, when you wrap your hands around a warm coffee mug and a baby wraps their hands around you, and you wrap yourself around friends and open up to listen, and you slowly start to wake up in your mind. It feels most like being released from a Charlie horse. But in your mind!

That first picture up there is from a soup party we had this past weekend. For want of a quick centerpiece I ran outside and snipped some leaves off the trees and tossed them into mini wooden crates.

That same weekend, the weather was glorious and we were moved to give the house a good clean. I can really understand how that warm spring breeze makes you want to make your space nicer and cleaner. Come in, warm breeze! Make yourself at home. 

Unfortunately, I woke up again this morning feeling the puny-ness of the 3.5 hours of sleep I got last night. Fortunately, today is Friday and I am resolved to make the best of a still-winter weekend!  

A few stories and words to help you get through this Friday:

This week's Radiolab, which woke up my brain yesterday. 

My sister did a great job blogging some of NYFW at La garconne

This interesting New Yorker article and this delightful article from McSweeny's.

...Speaking of, where ARE my furs? 

SUMMER UNIFORM: POCKETS

I'm well aware that we still have about three weeks of winter left, but since it feels like we've over-served our time in the depths of winterdom, I am sure that it makes sense to be thinking about summer now. Plus, the really nice weather we had this past weekend was like being given permission to start daydreaming about the t-shirt dresses I want to be slouching about in all summer. 

And why not share these daydreams so that we can all start willing the weather to turn warmer? I'm inspired by these pieces to keep my eye out for similar pieces that are more within my price range, so let's do this.  

Many of the the outfits that I was drawn to were all loose, looked really comfortable and had pockets. Dresses like the grey sweatshirt dress by Steven Alan and the dress profoundly called, "the dress" by Hope are both so simple and classic that they would be great for being accessorized in different ways. I'm thinking dainty gold jewelry when I'm feeling classy and pops of neon when I'm feeling funky.  

And then we have this jumpsuit by Emerson Fry and the t-shirt dress from Rag & Bone, both of which look like they would be great for running errands in the daytime and then also for getting fancied up later in the night.

And you know I would live in this striped smoking dress by Horses Atelier if given the chance, right?

Basically I'm saying that I want to feel like I'm wearing pajamas all day and I know we are all okay with that.

BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP

The other week, Ken came home from the grocery store with a butternut squash. "You bought a butternut squash?" I asked, genuine surprise in my voice. I know my husband can cook, but he just hasn't been; he hadn't tasted a butternut squash until a few months ago and he especially didn't do things like make butternut squash soup to just have around the house. But there he was, hacking into that squash in the kitchen, looking quite like the manliest man I ever did see, and looking up recipes to try. 

It is a sexy thing, when your husband roasts a butternut squash, caramelizes onions and apples, cooks it all up together with chicken stock and coconut milk, spices it up and blends that baby up in a a creamy, delicious soup.  It turned out to be one of the best things he's made and you can find the recipe here, if you want to try it for yourself. 

You guys, he's doing it, cooking for us for the second week in a row and in a lot of ways, he's better at being efficient.  I'm going to give myself more points for creativity, but he gets most of the points for things like cleanliness and organization. 

We have things to learn: he's learning how to be gracious and cook things like butternut squash, I'm learning how to be more efficient and enjoying the heck out of eating the things he is cooking.

LOVE IS PATIENT

Sometimes, I’m amazing at being patient. I’m practically a saint! My inner voice says. I mean, in these days, to be as patient as you are, that really means something.  And I have come a long way.  I was relieved when maturity mellowed me out, refined my rough edges and turned me into a much more patient person.  But I should also point out that Ken is still more of a patient person than I am, THANKGOD for that, or else we would have a real firestorm on our hands. More of a firestorm than we have now, and what we have now is a good manageable amount.

I’ve had a lot of cringe-worthy realizations lately;  I’m in that kind of heap right now where you spot old and unwelcome habits creeping back in. But, but but…. I have so many reasons, justifications, for why I’m hurried, exasperated, tense.  Maybe if he was a little more considerate, maybe if I had this and this job, maybe if I had more time, maybe if this stupid winter was over….But really, do I want my strong character to grow based on only good circumstances? What a poor construction that would be, how useless it would be in the face of a storm.

Because other times, I am horrible at being patient. I dislike this about myself greatly, and can’t help but wince when I hear that tone in my voice that is so grating and unfriendly. I work so hard on my tone, because the way that someone speaks to you, it matters, a whole lot.

And if you do some thinking, you realize that the opposite of patience can so loudly communicate annoyance, disdain, pride, scorn...hatred? It's a slippery slope. 

So I’m self-administering the medicine of luxuriating. 

The luxury of language. Of choices.  The luxury of scooping a well-ripened avocado out with a spoon to eat, of quiet, of a car to drive, of layers of clothing. The luxury of a warm body next to me in bed at night. The luxury of endless hugs, of a new morning. The luxury of forgiveness.

The luxury of watching my husband wash my baby's hair in the sink.