Harriet enjoying

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

Bloor-Gladstone Library

They told me off at the Bloor-Gladstone Library for taking photos without permission, but I'm only remotely ashamed. I've been meaning to visit ever since they reopened from renovations in July, and when we finally managed to stop in today whilst out autumnally walking, we found the place totally packed. The computers were in use, the easy chairs occupied by those with laptops, featured book displays were being browsed, people were reading at the study tables, perusing the stacks, there was a line up of people picking up their holds, and in a lovely, quietish library way, the entire place was bustling.

The original building has had a modern extension put on, and the entire space has been opened up, made airy and light. I think my favourite feature was the wall in the children's area, which renders the world an aquarium. The kids books were plentiful, artfully displayed on tops of shelves for browsing. Lots of comfortable chairs to curl up and read in. The teen book section was no less fantastic up on the second floor, by the extensive music and DVD collections. I really could have stayed all day.

It was a truly inspiring and wonderful space, and absolutely a hub of community. On such a gorgeous sunny Sunday afternoon, I could understand why all these people had chosen to stay indoors instead. If these are the doors in question, I mean. I expect we'll visit again soon.

Oh, and library books I picked up this week: Tokyo Fiancee by Amelie Northomb, Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby, and What Mothers Do by Naomi Stadlen.

Eden Mills in the Sunshine

If you ever want to appreciate being out in the world, do have a baby. Though this means being out in the world requires a remarkable amount of luggage, but no matter. We had a wonderful time at Eden Mills on Sunday on such a gorgeous sunny day. The drive was beautiful, with splendid autumn colours (already!). We saw our good friends the Rosenblum/ Sampsons, which was splendid (though we really only saw them in passing-- our readings schedules were quite different). On Publishers' Way, we checked out The New Quarterly, where I bought a t-shirt that might fit once I stop breastfeeding, and Biblioasis next door, where I bought The English Stories by Cynthia Flood and said hello to the excellent Dan Wells. We listened to readings by Marina Endicott, Ian Brown (who was amazing-- pictured here) and Miram Toews (who we knew would be amazing already. She was the reason we were there and she did not disappoint). And then Terry Griggs, and Julie Wilson, and I enjoyed it all thoroughly. Also enjoyed was the organic ice cream, cones of which we each had two. Perfect all around, until we got stuck in traffic out by the airport and the baby screamed until home, but alas. These are the chances we take.

Pirates and Penguins, oh my!

Yesterday, our wee family attended the launch of Patricia Storms' book The Pirate and the Penguin at the magnificent Yorkville Public Library. It was not actually Harriet's first literary event, as she'd attended Coach House Press's Wayzgoose Party the week before, but it was her first launch, and the first time she'd sat down for a public reading. She was spoiled by Patricia, I think, who had an actual pirate on hand for the occasion, and was kind enough to pose for a picture with us. Her reading was excellent, and held even Harriet's three and a half month-old attention span. Afterwards, Stuart and I had shared a slice of cake, which Harriet inadvertantly stuck her hand in.

We loved the book, from each one of its delightful map-illustrated inside covers to the other. Now, I've never really *got* pirates myself, except Somali ones-- I don't understand why International Talk Like a Pirate Day is funny, for example. But I've been a big fan of penguins going back yonks, and I like alliteration at the best of times. The story was funny, and sweet, and I especially liked its references to knitting and yoga. Patricia has been illustrating really wonderful books for a long time, and we're so excited that she's finally written her own!

So lucky

Harriet is three months today, which means I've got every right to post baby pictures. And we've got some gorgeous ones, taken this weekend by our friend Erin who makes everything beautiful, as well as another one displaying the ever-elusive, always precious Harriet smile. This third month has been a very fine one, real life returned to us. Harriet sleeps in her crib now, and for such long periods of time that I'm a very spoiled mom. During the past week we've gotten so that I get to come back downstairs after putting her to bed, rather than just collapsing into bed exhausted.

I kept a journal of letters to the baby throughout my pregnancy, and my plan was to write it throughout the postpartum too, but I didn't write a word until Harriet was nearly two months old. Which is interesting-- I've thought so much about how there is so little record of what that period is actually like for anybody, but I know that for me, I had no desire to write it all down so in essence to live it twice. Once was most certainly enough. It is, like much of motherhood, I am learning, better just to get on with it.

But part of the struggle, for me, was that my feelings weren't at all what I'd expected them to be. Not only did I not know how to articulate them properly, but I was uncomfortable even trying. I'd wondered if I'd see my baby and recognize her from the start, but I didn't. Getting to know her has been a slow and involved project, and of course I have to say that of course I've always loved her, but it's much more complicated than that, really. I've had to grow into this love, or perhaps it's that my love for her is so entrenched within me that I barely recognize it. It's way below the surface, is what I mean, so that I find myself staring at this tiny stranger and wondering who she is, and yet when we're apart, she is the string of thoughts in my head. Meeting her needs is such a primal urge I'm scarcely conscious of it, and yet it's overwhelming. When she's sleeping, I want her to never ever change, and at the same time I'm so eager to mark her progress, to meet this person she's slowly becoming. I can't remember what I ever did before, who I was then, but I also don't feel substantially changed. In that I've been Harriet's mother forever and ever, is what I mean by that. Or something quite different at the very same time.

I've heard tell of complaints that Toronto's had a very rotten summer, but I've missed the rotten, playing with my baby under shady trees, taking long walks, taking her to yoga, to the library, to the museum to sit on a bench and watch the fish swim. We've cut down on our evening walks now that the baby goes to bed early, but they were what got me through June and July when Harriet screeched on schedule, and I will remember the fresh air of those nights with fondness forever. Too many trips leading to ice cream, but it kept us happy and sane(ish). And now lately, we've had weekend trips away, a jaunt over to Toronto Island, and we're going away this weekend too for a tiny getaway, just for fun, just for summer. The summer that I thought would be lost to me, because certainly I do not remember June, but it all comes back, slowly, it does. And we're happy, if not always, and so lucky, always, always.

I IS for Toronto Island Ferry

We had a wonderful day away from the mainland.

Family Fun

Harriet can't wait to learn to read so that she can join in the family fun.

Relearning

Harriet is seven weeks tomorrow, and some semblance of regular life has returned to us. We spent our weekend doing things we would have done without her-- Saturday bbq at friends' house, Sunday brunch and ice cream. All modified somewhat, of course, by her presence (i.e. brunch at mid-afternoon), but definitely doable, and it's wonderful. It's as though since she's been born, I've had to relearn how to live in the world, because it's so different now, but we're really beginning to figure it out. Which is made very easy by Harriet's firm understanding of nighttime. She gets up once to eat, but otherwise we keep very civilized hours, and are all the better for it. She's a good baby, albeit a quite serious and/or grumpy one-- we've seen a few smiles, but they've been all too fleeting. And she only ever laughs when she's asleep, but really, I'll take any laughs at all.

The Wedding

Harriet is in the midst of her six weeks' growth spurt, which means that she's permanently attached to me, who's attached to the couch or bed most of the time, and so it goes. Luckily temporary. We're actually doing very well here, enjoying support from lactation consultants in particular! And things are not as dire as my previous post suggested-- that was early days, and week by week, life has been exponentially better. This weekend was a particularly large milestone, as we attended my best friend Jennie's wedding. It was just a modest do, with a 500+ guest list. We'd been a wee bit terrified at the prospect with such a little baby, but baby behaved better than she ever had in her whole life (and since), spending most of the weekend eating, sleeping and being adorable. With her daddy's support, I was able to pull off most of my bridesmaidly duties, and moreover had an enormous amount of fun. It was great to be away from home, to drive again, to stay in a hotel and feed baby in odd places-- makes everything else seem so much more possible. And the wedding was really a spectacular event. As I'm between computers at the mo, I can't upload my own photos, but I stole this one from my friend Britt's Facebook-- in spite of our outfits, we Bridesmaids did stand out a bit at this Sikh wedding, but really, check out the bride. She was so incredibly beautiful, gracious, and radiant, and she had her new husband absolutely belong together. I'm thrilled for them, and for me who got to be there.

New computer should arrive this week or next, and I expect regularish posting will resume then.

What life has been like lately...

I'd post a picture of me and the baby, but as I've ceased to wear clothes, I've got none that are presentable. Harriet doesn't wear clothes either, but she pulls it off much better. We're now inhabiting a Harriet-centric universe, and we like it here. She's fitting into the family very well, and we're working hard to get her fatter. Her daddy is so wonderful to both of us, it makes me cry. She looks so much like him that it's a bit startling, and she's so beautiful that we can't stop talking about it. We also can't stop singing her "Ignition Remix" by R. Kelly, which may have a detrimental effect in years to come. But regardless, I continue to be a very lucky lady.

Psst: Harriet is after the spy, of course. I'll be writing more about that later.

Long Weekend

Long weekend= Sweet Fantasies Ice Cream, long rainy Saturday with plenty of time for napping, dinner out (with cake and two forks), The Movies (which was Star Trek, because I definitely owed Stuart for a variety of dullish [to him] cultural events he's accompanied me to), grilled asparagus for lunch, long long walk to Trinity Bellwoods Park and home again (with plenty of bench resting along the way), brunch out, trip to the ROM and the Schadd Biodiversity Gallery, Dufflet treats in the ROM cafe, Greg's Ice Cream, an afternoon together in the company of our books, three books for me in three days (and another one tomorrow?), squirms from the little one who will be born in just eight days, and yes, this is far too many sweets, I know, but as one is only ever 39 weeks pregnant a few times in a life, we shall shove your dietitian where the sun don't shine. (Which isn't here, thankfully. Happy May.)

There has never been a cuter cake

This cake from my baby shower this afternoon was about as delicious as it was adorable. And even home-decorated by one of the wonderful shower attendees, no less. Pretty much typical of the afternoon too-- the shower itself was deserving of a cake this good, with amazing food and some of my very favourite company. Family and friends who were patient enough to sit around watching me open presents all afternoon. For such patience, I'm grateful, as well as for the presents themselves, which were so thoughtful, perfect, and as adorable as the cake. This is going to be one very blessed baby, and I'm so lucky already.

Road Trip to Don Mills

I am going to be totally honest-- I arrived with heightened expectations and they weren't entirely met. I'd heard so many good things about McNally Robinson Booksellers out west that I couldn't miss checking out their first Ontario location, way out in the Don Mills countryside. So we drove out there this morning, me and two bookish ladies, and my husband who couldn't remember why he'd signed up for the adventure. We arrived at the shopping mall, which was strange and confusing, with people on segways zipping about, and other people on stilts. The sun was bright and the sky was blue, and I was comfortable wearing a tank top-- a gorgeous day. We found the bookstore quickly, and hurried our way inside.

The space was great, the shop was crowded, I loved the light, and the trees, and two whole floors of books. It would have been nice, however, if staff hadn't responded to every question with a shrug and, "We've just opened," or if they'd had a copy of the book I'd come to buy, or if Stuart hadn't been convinced he was actually in a Chapters. I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but dancing elephants might have been involved, and they weren't there.

They did have Rebecca's book, however, right beside the dirty avocado book, much to our delight. Lots of other books from small presses too, and the children's section was wonderful, and we explored food books with great enthusiasm. I ended up getting The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Sean Greer, and Wheels on the Go for a friend of ours who's turning two. And afterwards we went out for a suburban type meal at a chain restaurant, which was tremendous fun in the land of parking lots and fountains.

Easter Sunday

Even though we celebrate religious holidays in a secular fashion at our house, there was plenty going on this Easter Sunday. Springtime, first of all, with blue skies and sunshine. Tulips on the table, and a special Springtime cake. The ever-present squirms of our baby, who we're just weeks away from meeting. A brilliant dinner of delicious lamb and vegetables, and seeing family. The wonderful news of another new baby, to be joining our extended family in October. This whole weekend full of good friends, delightful celebrations, and the week-old baby we got to play with on Friday. (Indeed, our lives are babyful of late. Which is good practice.) And another day off tomorrow. Now reading (the gorgeous) The Elegance of the Hedgehog, and certainly this is life.

Mini-Break, with frost on

Ah, so we realized why we'd been able to get such a good deal on our spring weekend getaway-- because where we were about to get away to could very well still be winter. The snow started falling not far up Highway 400, and we had to contend with roads variously icy or flooded as we made our way toward an old friend of mine to have lunch with her beautiful family. Definitely worth the peril though, as our reunion was glorious, her husband and baby were terrific, and they served a wonderful meal by the warmth of their wood stove. Also good was the jar of maple syrup we came away with, which they'd tapped from their trees.

From there, we proceeded to the resort where we were booked, got lost by the town of Windemere so I was very nearly late for my pre-natal massage at the resort spa. Because it was to be that kind of weekend, the spa I mean, not the tardiness (for we arrived in the nick of time). The bad weather was not afterwards a problem, for we had no desire to go outside. Not while there was a pool to be played in, and a delicious dinner to linger over. This morning I lazed in bed reading and laughing at Playing House by Patricia Pearson, then we were energized enough to make it to the hotel brunch, whose chief feature was a chocolate fountain, and the spread was thoroughly delicious, sumptuous and by today the sun was shining anyway. The snow was quickly melting as we left Muskoka behind us, brilliant skies and gorgeous rays along the road to home.

New life!

This weekend was marvelous, and yes, mostly because this little picture was taken yesterday across the road from my house. Spring has seen fit to descend upon us early, and I am so grateful. This weekend's other delights just as splendid as the sunshine-- ice cream eaten outside, dinner at Dessert Trends Bistro, lots of time for knitting, getting chores done, Midsomer Murders on DVD, rainy Sundays, rainy Sunday scrabble (with the power out!), brunch with friends, an afternoon tea party (with jammy scones), lots of reading. Lots of book buying too-- we got the Free to Be... You and Me 35th Anniversary Edition (which came with a CD!) from Book City yesterday, ostensibly for the baby, but probably more for nostalgia (although the book is beautiful and looks totally up to date). Today's brunch was located conveniently across the street from This Ain't The Rosedale Library, and it just so happened I was in the market for The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (upon the recommendation of Patricia Storms). Now I must go for a bubble bath, and read Lauren Groff's new collection of short stories, Delicate Edible Birds. I am hoping to stay up past 9pm most nights this week, so I do foresee a bit more posting. But then again, you never can tell.

Long Weekend Chocolate Banana Cake

Very experimental, and driven by my ceaseless craving for banana-full baked goods. Eggless "wacky" cake on the bottom, and banana bread recipe from my breadmaker (except cooked in the oven) on top. Iced, rather unfortunately, with store-bought Betty Crocker as all my icing recipes have a raw egg beaten in and I'm not permitted such indulgences in my condition. Product is perfect though, and absolutely delicious. Promptly sliced into four, and distributed amongst my neighbours in order to prevent hastening of my immediate-onset obesity. With plenty still left for us to finish tonight during Midsomer Murders, accompanied by big glasses of (organic) milk.

Reading in Pickle Colour

Today I finally picked up a copy of the marvelous I Can Read With My Eyes Shut, which might be the closest thing to a holy book those in my religion have-- in rhyme no less. ("The more that you read,/ the more you will know./ The more that you learn,/ the more places you'll go.") And I like to think the first page (shown here) was a reference to Pickle Me This. I got the book at Circus Books and Music, which is a wonderful store with exceptional children's books. We were out on the Danforth after a spectacular brunch at The Only Cafe, and then walked westward. At the Danforth Type Books, I bought I Kissed the Baby, but not for me, that one. (Oh no, it's for the baby's library.) Outside, we're enjoying this crazy February Sunday Sun again and it's wonderful.

A delight to live inside

I've got a lot to say, but Monday evenings deliver only the briefest window between pre-natal yoga and Midsomer Murders, and so alas. Let it be known that I'm now reading Revolutionary Road, which was a Zmas gift from my friend Bronwyn, and that I spoiled the ending today through wikipedian ramblings, which I'm a bit annoyed about, but I'm still enjoying the read. And that because the last couple of weeks (and more?) have been wrought with anxiety, tension and stress, this weekend was such a delight to live inside. I've been volunteering at the Children's Book Bank since New Year, and have found it's more than a pleasure to read stories one after another to eager children who then just want one more. On Saturday night, we hosted a small birthday gathering for the one-of-a-kind e. smith, with a special appearance from our beloved Sk8 who's been in South America for the past two years. And there were cupcakes, oh yes. Then Sunday morning in Kensington, where cheese curds were had and sunshine was soaked and we held hands without mittens, and ice was melting everywhere. A glimpse of spring, which was the best thing. I arrived home with thousands of things to do, but decided to spend the afternoon asleep in my slanket instead. We had dearest friends over for a roast chicken dinner, and it was delicious, company was lovely. And best of all, that our baby is a kickboxer (sport of the future). The flutters have turned to thumps, and I think they just might be the more amazing sensation I've ever experienced. I could get kicked and kicked all day.

Living in the memory of a love that never was

I loved Orlando, unsurprisingly. It was so terrible funny and fresh, and relevant, exuberant. I could read it again and again, and each time discover the book anew. And so now I'm reading Maps and Legends by Michael Chabon (the gorgeous McSweeneys hardback, though it's coming out in paperback in Feb.), and Laura Lippman's collection of stories Hardly Knew Her (which I look forward to finishing in the bath this evening).

Online and periodically, I've been up to my nose in Oliver Jeffers interviewed in The Guardian; on Obama as storyteller and one of the many Midwesterners who've explored their identity through story; Rebecca Rosenblum's Once finds another ideal reader; my doppelganger Gwyneth recommends "amazing, transportive novel[s]" (via Jezebel); LRB underlines why I'll be renewing my subscription with Hilary Mantel's memoir on life in Jeddah, and John Lanchester's "Is It Art?" on video games. Lisa Gabriele is profiled in The Star (and have you seen her touting her book on Dragon's Den?).

This weekend I grew out of my pants, knit some, helped entertain friends, sang "Long Long Time" whilst strumming my guitar, read a lot, wrote some, slept in, visited family member daily in hospital (who is going to be okay!!), baked a cake, ate a lot of spinach, drove a really large cargo van, danced around the kitchen, and inherited a bumbo seat and a jolly jumper.