Reading in bed

News and news

My goodness, haven't things around here been anticlimactic since Family Literacy Week ended. You want to know the best thing about Family Literacy Week though? That it was totally made up. True story. Family Literacy DAY was the real deal, but I thought one day wasn't enough, so I dragged it out for another six, and then people started walking around thinking it was legitimate. At least two people that I know of! This is certainly not the first rumour I ever started, but it's probably one of the more productive ones. It was a very good week, and I am so grateful for everyone who contributed. And I am sorry if I misled you...

Since then, however, I've been busy with deadlines, and preparations, plus I've been exhausted thanks to this baby whose sleep habits are beyond appalling. Thanks to all of this (save the baby), however, we are on the cusp of some very exciting things. Amy Jones is coming over tomorrow afternoon for her interview (and I've baked scones for the occasion.) I'm starting Wild Geese tomorrow, and my Canada Reads Independently update will be posted this weekend. And sometime soon I'll be rolling out my gorgeous new website over at my own domain! I hope you'll all adjust your links accordingly, and follow me there. Stay tuned for the official announcement...

Of course, lately I've also been reading. Barbara Pym's A Glass of Blessings, and Canadian Notes and Queries. From the latter, I especially enjoyed Clark Blaise's story "In Her Prime", Seth on Canadian Cartoonist Doug Wright, Ray Robertson (of the Canada Reads Independently Moody Food) "In Anticipation". I've been reading Sylvia Plath's The Bed Book with illustrations by Quentin Blake, and The Tree of Life by Peter Sis on the recommendation of Genevieve Cote. I've been reading Annabel Lyon on writing and motherhood. Mark Sampson on email interviews. Steven Beattie's "The problem of sustained reading in a distracted society". Meli-Mello celebrated Family Literacy Week also last week, and this week she's talking about toys.

Family Literacy Field Trip: To Mabel's Fables

So it turns out there is a Mabel, and she is a ginger cat. And the place she lives is pure magic, with a bright pink door, and two floors of BOOKS! Upstairs there is a gigantic teddy bear and a princess chair, and downstairs are the books for little kids and babies, upstairs for the bigger ones, and there are even books for adults on the landing.

But perhaps the very best thing about Mabel's Fables, the wonderful children's bookstore in Toronto, is that Rebecca Rosenblum lives around the corner. So that we got to go to her house for lunch first, and she accompanied us on our first Mabel's Fables visit. (I've never been before because the store is not on the subway, and I have this impression that anywhere not on the subway is really far away. Turns out that it isn't.)

Harriet was pleased to be liberated from the snowsuit and seemed impressed by her surroundings. I was pleased to see so many of our favourite books and others I'd been coveting, and stuff I'd never heard of by the same authors, and a space that was such a celebration of childhood and children's books. We ended up getting our friend Geneviève Côté's new book Me and You, which is a gorgeous celebration of friendship, individuality and art. We also got The Baby's Catalogue board book by the Ahlbergs, because we love Peepo and Each Peach Pear Plum, and even though this isn't a story book, it's full of cool stuff for us to look at together and talk about, and there's a breastfeeding baby inside (and you really can't go wrong with breastfeeding in picture book art, oh no!).

Our final purchase was Sandra Boynton's Bath Time!, because Harriet loves bath books and we like Barnyard Bath very much already. All in all, it was a very successful shop, and you can see here that Harriet very much enjoyed herself. These photos were taken during a span of about thirty seconds, as I tried to get her to smile for the camera but she proceeded to just pluck books off the shelf and chew on them. I wrenched them away from her eventually-- I'm assuming Mabel's Fables operates on a "you chew it, you buy it" policy, understandably. "Come on," I said, pulling her away from the nummy bookish delights. "You've got plenty of books to chew on at home. " But I must admit to admiring her appetite!

Our Family Literacy Day Baby Literary Salon

It's Family Literacy Day! To celebrate, we invited our favourite Mom and Baby friends to share some stories, and to sing some songs (as the theme of this year's Family Literacy Day is "Sing For Literacy"). The event was a resounding success, and not just because of the snacks provided. No, it was a success because the guests brought even more snacks, including delicious fudge, green tea shortbread and jello treats for the little ones. (Forgive me for fixating on edibles, but for breastfeeding women, this is very very important).

Margaret and her mom Carolyn brought family favourite Tumble Bumble, as well as Margaret's beloved book of the moment Boo Boo. Finn in particular enjoyed Tumble Bumble. His mom Sara came with a copy of one of her childhood favourites, the absolutely magical The Bed Book by Sylvia Plath. Who knew Sylvia Plath wrote a children's book? No, not I. But I liked the elephant bed the very best.

Leo's mom Alex brought along a copy of hardcore alphabet book Awake to Nap by Nikki McClure. The illustrations were beautiful, and "I is for inside" was the best one. Later, Alex read Margaret Atwood's first kids' book Up in a Tree, which was pretty delightful and might even impress the most avid Atwood-hater. Also remarkable was the character that looked like a baby Margaret Atwood, and was absolutely adorable.

I read Ten Little Fingers Ten Little Toes, as well as Harriet's fave All About Me: A Baby's Guide to Babies. And then, because of the singsong theme, we also read/sang Old MacDonald, Five Little Ducks and The Wheels on the Bus. The babies played quite happily together, and took turns playing with the best toy out of all the toys we own: a tin pie plate. Harriet fell down from sitting and now has her first bruise. Leo and Finn bonded over a set of plastic rings. Margaret showed us her mobility prowess. We listened to Elizabeth Mitchell, and drank tea, and ate delicious things, and in celebrating family literacy, we spent a splendid afternoon.

Egg on the face

Clearest, starkest brilliance #1: When Randy Bachman held my heart

Harriet is pictured here in her very early days, back when a moment of daytime peace was worth a photo for posterity. But lately, actually, I've been thinking of a certain moment of nighttime peace, when Harriet was about five days old.

For the first few weeks of her life (how long exactly doesn't matter, suffice it to say, it was an eternity), we had to wake her every three hours for feeding, as she'd not yet returned to her birthweight. (This was when I was reading Tom's Midnight Garden and "Only the clock was left, but the clock was always there, time in, time out.") And once the alarm went off, we'd leave the radio playing while we fed her, and so we discovered that CBC at night subscribes to programs by other public broadcasters. The Australian Broadcasting Corporation at 1:00am, and 4:00am would be Swedish, and something uptight and BBC close to the morning.

This one night in particular was not so late, however, and I remember waking up to Randy Bachman's Vinyl Tap. So there we were, up with our baby daughter in this weird, wide world that was the size of our bedroom's four walls and we hadn't thought outside of it in five whole days, which might have been a lifetime (and they were). So that, in effect, Randy Bachman was coming at us from the farthest reaches of outer space.

Fittingly, his show that night had a stars and planets theme, and Canada felt very small as Randy's wife Denise introduced the next track, by Randy's son Tal. Surprisingly, it was not "She's So High", and Denise reported that she'd always felt so envious of Tal's talent. And then after that they played music that wasn't by anyone related to Randy Bachman, which I think was "Blue Moon"(and according to the program log, I'm remembering this in the wrong order, but that doesn't change the way it was). They played "Good Morning Starshine", and we marvelled at the lyric "Gliddy glub gloopy, Nibby nabby noopy, La la la lo lo." It was midnight, but it might as well have been the middle of the night, and the baby was sucking sustenance out of a tube stuck to my husband's finger, but anyway, we were happy.

But no more so than when they played "Little Star" by the Elegants. Our own peculiar lullaby, to which we found ourselves relaxing for the first time in days. Twinkle, twinkle to a doo-wop beat, and the moment was so beautiful, it shone. We were a family. And I wouldn't take back any of the awfulness of those early days, if I had to give that song back with it, and what it was like to be listening, and finally not anxious, and to be connected, in touch with a calm, blissful world.

Tricks of Perspective

It's a strange trick of perspective, and I can never quite figure it out: is Harriet tiny or enormous? It changes from moment to moment, day to day. And I do like this picture, because I so rarely get to see her from a distance, for the individual person she is and will grow to be, as opposed to my forever appendage. She truly is one of the funniest and most interesting people I have ever met, through her staying-asleep skills are appalling. But how I admire her excellent posture and her perfectly round head.

Bookishly, my books to-be-read seem much less overwhelming today, mostly because I cleaned my house this week. I am not sure why there is a link between the two, but I'll take ease wherever I can find it. And in a similar trick of perspective to the paragraph above, I am now reading Kiss the Joy as it Flies by Sheree Fitch, because I'm altogether intrigued about what a novel would be were it written by the author of Kisses Kisses Baby-O (one of our favourite bedtime board books). And so far, it's as marvelous as expected.

I discovered Fitch had written an adult novel when it made the longlist for Canada Also Reads, The Afterword's response to CBC Canada Reads. It's an intriguing list, packed with many books I've loved before, including The Incident Report, Stunt, Come Thou, Tortoise, Girls Fall Down, Coventry, February, Cloud of Bone, Too Much Happiness, The Killing Circle, Bang Crunch, and Yellowknife. Looking forward to seeing the shortlist.

On my newfound trekker, newfound confidence, and the mystery of defensive mothering

Oh, if I could go back seven months, what a lot of things I'd have to say to the me I was then. I would urge that shattered, messed up girl to, "Get thee to a lactation consultant" a week sooner than I actually did, and advocate better for myself and baby whilst in the hospital, and promise myself that life as we knew it was not gone, gone, gone forever more.

I would also tell myself to run out and buy a Baby Trekker. I know why we didn't in the first place-- I thought Baby Bjorn was the end in baby carriage, but that $150 was too pricey. Since then, I've learned that you get your money's worth, and that Bjorn's not where it's at anyway. We've had the Trekker for about three weeks now, and I've used it every day (it's snowsuit friendly!), whether to haul Harriet around the neighbourhood, or to cook dinner with her happily strapped to my back (and this has improved our quality of life more than I can ever describe).

If I could go back about six months, I'd tell myself to START PUTTING THE BABY TO BED EARLY. That she doesn't have "a fussy period between 7:00 and bedtime", but that she's screaming for us to put her to bed then. Of course, I wouldn't have believed myself then, and even once we'd figured it out, it took another six weeks to learn how to actually get it done. This, like everything, was knowledge we had to come to on our own. And most of motherhood is like that, I've found, and it seems to be for my friends as well, which is why all my well-meaning, hard-earned advice is really quite useless to them. But even knowing that we have it in us to do so, to figure it out, I mean, is certainly something worth pointing out.

Even more useful than my Trekker, I think, the best piece of baby equipment I've acquired lately is confidence. I had reservations with Naomi Stadlen's book, but she was right about this: "If [the new mother] feels disoriented, this is not a problem requiring bookshelves of literature to put right. No, it is exactly the right state of mind for the teach-yourself process that lies ahead of her." Though it actually was the bookshelves of literature that showed me I could go my own way, mostly due to the contradictory advice by "authorities" in each and every volume. (Oh, and I also read Dreambabies, which made it glaringly obvious that baby expertise is bunk.)

Solid food was the turning point though. I have three baby food cookbooks and they're all reputable, and each is good in its own way, but they agree on nothing. When to start solids, what solids to start on, and when/how to introduce other foods, and on and on. It was good, actually, because I found that whenever I wanted to feed the baby something, at least one of the books would give me permission to do so. So I decided to throw all the rules out the window, and as teaching Harriet to enjoy food as much as I have the power to do so is important to me, I decided we would make up our own rules. As we've no history of food allergies in our families, and Harriet is healthy, we opted not to systematize her eating. We've fed her whatever we've taken a fancy to feeding her, without rhyme or reason, including blueberries, strawberries, fish, chicken, toast, cheese, beans, chickpeas, smoothies, squash, broccoli, spinach, spaghetti, and cadbury's chocolate, and she's devoured it all.

Okay, I lied about the chocolate. But the point is that my instincts told me that this was the best way to feed our baby, what made the most sense, and so I tried it and we're all still alive. And it was liberating to know that the baby experts could be defied-- I really had no idea that was even allowed. That as a mother, there could be something I knew about my child and our family that an entire panel of baby experts didn't. And we can go onward from there.

What has surprised me, however, is that confidence hasn't done much to reduce my defensive-mothering. You know, feeling the need to reassert oneself whenever someone makes different choices that you do. How not going back to work, for example, makes me feel like a knob, and moms going back to work feel threatened that I'm not, and we keep having to explain ourselves to the other, in fitful circles that take us nowhere.

It's not just working vs. not working, of course. It's everything, and this past while I figured it was my own lack of confidence that was making me so defensive. The best advice I've received lately is, "Never be too smug or too despairing, because someone else is doing better and worse than you are." And it was good to keep in mind that any residual smugness was due to probably due to feelings of inadequacy anyway.

Anyway, it's not just inadequacy, inferiority. Even the decisions I feel confident about prompt defensiveness when other mothers do differently, and now not because I'm unsure of myself, but because I'm so damn sure of myself that I'm baffled when you don't see it the way I do. And there's this line we're meant to spout in these sorts of situations, to imply a lack of judgement. We're meant to say, about our choices: "It's what's best for our family", but that's the most sanctimonious load of crap I've ever heard. Some things, yes, like me not going back to work, are best for our family, but other things, the other "choices" we've made: I'd prescribe them to everyone, and that not everyone is lining up for my prescriptions drives me absolutely mad.

Mom-on-mom action continues to fascinate, nonetheless. There are politics like nothing else, like nothing in the world of men, I think. It brings out the best and the worst in me, and I don't think I'm the only one. And I doubt the action is going to be letting up anytime soon.

Merry Christmas. Love, Me.

Our Menagerie

This morning at the library, I was excited to find a book called Animals in My House. "Finally," I thought, "a book that Harriet will be able to relate to." How disappointed was I then, when I discovered the book was about domestic animals, exclusively pets? And does anybody know a book we can use to help explain to our daughter the mice under the floors, the squirrel in the wall, spiders on the bathroom ceiling and that family of raccoons outside the door? Or is this just a board book begging to be written?

A Big Day

Tomorrow is a big, big day. Biggest of all, Harriet goes to the doctor for her six month checkup, so she'll get shot up with powerful poisons and we'll find out how many point how many pounds of enormous she is. What this means, however, is that I won't be able to head down to the CBC to see Canada Reads 2010 unveiled. I'm honestly sad about this, and looking forward to finding out this year's books (which I may or may not read, depending on what they are). In related news, Julie Wilson is guest-hosting the CBC Book Club. In Julie Wilson-related news (and there always is some. I am sort of a Julie Wilson fanatic, actually), tomorrow also starts Advent Books-- a book a day to satisfy your holiday shopping-recommendation needs.

I am now reading Gaudy Nights, and I'm surprised to find that it is a fairly demanding read in terms of length and content. Maureen Corrigan also ruined the ending, but I think I'll still enjoy the ride.

Six Months With Harriet

Harriet is six months old today, which is older than she's ever been before. I remember when she was six weeks old, which I thought was ancient, and now I can't believe that she was ever that small, and fragile, and terrifying to consider.

We've been taking photos on each of her montheversaries of Harriet in the gliding chair with Miffy -- the strange wavy armed baby on the right is Harriet at 1 month. And from the progression of photos, it has become obvious that not only is the gliding chair now absolutely covered in puke, but that the baby has grown. Which is kind of what we expected, but I still can't quite get over how strange it is that right before my eyes, she has turned into this sturdy, hilarious, little person. And I didn't notice a thing.

Six months is really good. We spend our days doing the things that make Harriet laugh and smile (singing "Boom Boom, Ain't It Great to be Crazy", dancing stupidly, bouncing her up and down in the air, round and round the garden like a teddy bear) because Harriet's laughter and smiles are so absolutely gorgeous. And these days, she's even got her own sense of humour-- according to Harriet, there is nothing funnier than the chicken puppet. She is very discerning.

She's cutting her first tooth right now, once in a while elects to sleep up to four hours at a time, is in a rolling frame of mind, enjoys listening to Elizabeth Mitchell, Miley Cyrus, The Beatles and Vampire Weekend, listens also to a lot of CBC Radio 1, seems to attract lady-bugs, loves it when her dad gets home from work, eats books, eats food too (blueberries tonight!), likes to chew on her rubber duck and make it squeak, enjoys sucking on her toes, playing with her ball, is showing an affinity for Miffy, growing hair(!), likes to jolly jump, pokes eyes or gets her eyes poked depending on whether we're hanging out with other babies older or younger than she is, she goes from Wibbleton to Wobbleton (which is fifteen miles), pulls bookmarks out of books, wants to touch everything, and two weeks ago she ate the shopping list.

It's so hard. And I don't think it ever gets easy, but it gets easier. And then harder too, of course, in all new ways, but the whole thing is also totally worth it in a way I'm really beginning to understand now. Only beginning to, though, because it's an understanding I can't articulate or even make sense of to myself, and it's more a steady current inside of me than a feeling at all.

She is delightful, and fascinating, and amazing, and I can't remember a world in which Harriet was not the centre. Which is not to say that sometimes I don't wish for a different focus for a little while, but it would always comes back to her anyway. It always does. And it will forever, but how could it not?

We've all come a long, long way.

Happy Birthday, Stuart!

Every year around this day, or to be more specific, on this day, I get to say aloud what I think all the time, which is, "What a terrific man is this Stuart character I've somehow got myself hooked up with." Because he really is fantastic, and in seven years I've not even begun to get enough of his marvelous company, and I'm so proud of the thirty-year old man who's made a life for himself that that twenty-three-year old I met years ago would be in awe of. So grateful also that he's so unfailingly good to me, and for the life we've made together.

In short, he's fantastic, and during the past six months he's been put to the test, with his patience, caring nature, hilarious sense of humour, much relied-upon ingenuity, and his understanding rarely waning. And that they rarely waned rather than never did only shows he's human, but what an extraordinary one. Harriet and I are so very lucky, because he's an excellent husband and a wonderful dad. I love him very much.

Happy Birthday!

Harriet enjoying

Here is Harriet enjoying brunch in Kensington Market this past Sunday. Photo by the incomparable Erin Smith.

Horizontal Parenting

I am very excited about the Parenting Method I have devised, and subsequent book I am going to self-publish about my Parenting Method (via lulu.com). My method is called Horizontal Parenting, and I've been practicing it for about six months now. Its core tenets are the five Ls-- 1) Lie down to breastfeed, 2) Lie down to soothe your crying babe by gently rocking your hips, 3) Lie down to have your baby sleep on your chest (contrary to everything the Back to Sleep people will tell you), 4) Lie down to play with your baby-- a popular game is lying on one's back and throwing a soft ball up to the ceiling again and again. The fun never stops. 5) Take time every day for yoga practice-- but only the savasana pose. (This last tenet doesn't start with L, but that's because it's the exception that proves the rule.)

The jury's still out on the advantages of horizontal parenting on child development, but my child seems to be developing fairly normally (save for her new, disturbing penchant for pinching the fat on my upper arms). For me, however, the advantages are multifold-- I never have a sore back, I get to sleep at night (albeit sometimes uncomfortably on my side), I get to lie on the couch and read or nap frequently throughout the day, and I get many opportunities to breathe in the sweet smell of my baby daughter's head.

As soon as I figure out how to cook dinner from a hammock, then I will really claim to have it all figured out.

There is no excuse

There is no excuse for the accompanying photo, except that my baby is adorable. Alright then, bookishly. I thumbed through the new Pierre Trudeau biography the other day, and now I am afraid I'm the only woman in Canada who never slept with him. He didn't even want me to live with him and have his child, like Liona Boyd (who is Liona Boyd?) on the cover of Hello. This may or may not be unfortunate. I just finished reading What Boys Like by Amy Jones (review forthcoming!) and have just started Mother Knows Best: Talking Back to the "Experts". Patricia has directed my attention to what seems to be the worst picture book ever: The Mischievous Mom at the Art Gallery by "high-octane duo" Rebecca Eckler and Erica Ehm. A new level of narcissism-- we have to be reflected in our kids' books now? "Finally — a picture book for the Starbucks-armed, BlackBerry-checking, gym-going working mother." Perhaps you're meant to read it on the treadmill. Chapters/Indigo includes a "Green Matters" option on its online catalogue, narrowing searches to books printed on FSC/Recycled Content. On the best Sesame Street songs (in honour of the show's fortieth birthday). They forgot ladybug picnic. Charlotte on The Children's Storefront, a neighbourhood institution that was lost in a fire last week. Rona Maynard's secrets to decades upon decades of marriage. I've been enjoying books/music site Sasquatch Radio. WriterGuy directed me towards the interesting "How Waterstones killed bookselling" (in light of my recent post about how Waterstones killed book buying, for me, at least). And I'm wondering if I'm the only one who starts carrying around my next book to be read once the current read is down to the last fifty pages or so. Indeed, if I don't have something fabulous to read within arm's length at all times, I do start to get a little nervous.

Three Iconic Englishwomen

Halloween the First

Five Months Old

Dear Spadina Road Branch of the Toronto Public Library

Dear Spadina Road Branch of the Toronto Public Library,

This is a love letter.

Though I’ve actually had a crush on you for years, and on this city’s whole public library system, but lately you, Spadina Road Branch, have truly captured my heart. Though you’re not very big, your hours are few, and there is often somebody asleep on your lawn, you have had an enormous impact on my life.

Though always an avid reader, I was not such a regular patron until my daughter was born in May. Upon my baby’s birth, I found the whole world had shrunk to the size of a small city block, and it took a long time to find my way around it again.

When my daughter was six weeks old, she joined the library. The library was a destination in an otherwise empty and lonely day, but it was fun to get her card, to select books that I would enjoy reading to her at home. I also borrowed children’s CDs so we could listen to music together. And after that, I began visiting the library once a week, taking out new books and music, and DVDs to watch with my husband, borrowing books from your collection about baby sign language, baby massage, games I could play with my daughter, and child development. And slowly, I started to feel like I knew what I was doing.

In August, we were invited to join a Baby/Toddler group meeting weekly throughout the month. This was informal programming, organized by staff with limited resources, in response to requests from other patrons. And the group became the highlight of our week, such an enjoyable way to spend an hour, and we learned wonderful new songs and games. When my husband came home from work at the end of the day, he’d be eager to learn whatever we’d picked up at the library that morning, and these songs and games have become some of our baby’s favourites. We look forward to returning to the Baby group later this month.

And then there’s your people, Spadina Road. Perhaps I should have started with your staff, for this is the point that I mean most of all. Being at home all day with my baby is harder than I ever imagined it would be, and some days are more trying than others, but all is usually assuaged with a walk through your automatic doors. Your staff is so kind and friendly to me, sweet to my baby, helpful with my requests and I’m always greeted warmly. Which makes such a big difference on the hardest day, and I hope your staff realize how much value they add to customers’ experience.

That because of them, the library is not just a destination, but one of my favourite places to go, and I feel so lucky to live in your neighbourhood.

So thank you, Spadina Road Branch, with love forever and ever,

Kerry Clare and Baby Harriet