12:40

This has been quite the week. I've been very social & there's been much cause for celebration. Unfortunately, it's also been the week when I had to make good on all of the stupid commitments I decided to take on this summer, so there's been less than no time to sit and write. Yesterday, after we'd had yet another argument about my frustration with our time-management, the Boy asked me what I wanted to do today. I thought about it for a few minutes, my first answers rejected as being knee-jerk indulgent and isolationist. (Crouching in my cave is all fine and good, but I need to do other things too.)

"I want to have a really good day with Blake," I said finally. "I want to go out to a park & crawl around, play on swings, eat fruit, sing songs & just generally have a lovely day. And I want you to be there with us, having fun."

So today we're going to check out the Alternative Parents of Toronto picnic. Of course, this means that we have to pay attention to what we put on, as we're not just staring at the goats in Ching park - we have to look alternative. Sigh. It's the curse of coming-of-age in the mid-nineties: alternative is the new youth. Or the old youth, really.

I'll let you know how it goes. And then - the week that was!

7:33

Well, that was nice. More on Alt. Parents in a few moments.

Tuesday

Our exercise day. Blake was in fine form for this class, crawling around the entire space like a demon & pulling himself up on anything at a convenient height. He got into a brief fracas with the other baby when she started pulling his hair. I had to rescue him. Luckily, he wasn't clingy after that and submitted happily to exploring the floor while I worked them abs. At one point I looked up to see him standing at the mirrorwall, noisily kissing his reflection. I think tongue may have been involved.

I'm so happy. Now that my baby can see things that are far away, he can play with MirrorBlake for a good chunk of my routine. My life just got so much better.

Wednesday

Wednesday was all about not wearing pants. It started out in the morning when the Boy & I had an exhaustion-fuelled argument that took all of my attention & allowed me to forget pants to wear after Blake's swim class. (I wear my suit to class since it looks so much like a black tennis dress.) I drove home with a towel wrapped around my waist, praying that I wouldn't get pulled over. I also forgot dry pants for Blake, but no one minds if he hangs out in his diaper all day. Which he ended up doing. Argh.

But it's not all about the strip-driving! Wednesday was also Monstre day! A lunch date with Gila promised much pregnancy conversation & fun with the baby. We met up at a sushi place; I was on time & got a chance to settle in with a glass of water for Mr. Man just as Gila rushed in. Once she got back from the bathroom, I don't think we stopped talking for more than a split second. We both experience(d) heightened sense of smell, no particular food cravings, brains that went MIA at odd intervals & bodies that grew without reference to the petite drawings in the pregnancy books. Because of that last point, she was thrilled to receive a duffel bag filled with all of my maternity clothes.

(When I packed the bag the night before, I found two odd socks that must've been there since the wet debacle that was StanFest 2002. Glad I got those out before they came close to the Amazing Nose of Pregnancy.)

Blake was a bit of a terror. Well, actually he was no worse than he usually is, I just noticed it more because I couldn't spare him the normal amount of attention he deserves in fine eating establishments. He drank water until his front was completely sodden. He ate a fragment of yam & two cucumber spears & managed not to choke (much). He flung his toys to the floor when they angered him. He overturned a plate of hot assorted tempura onto himself, leaving himself greasy & the floor around the stroller littered with crumbs. And when taken into a lap, he inevitably snatched himself a full handful of wasabi from our platters. Oh, he was a right monkey & no mistake. Good thing he's devilishly handsome, or he'd put poor Gila right off the prospect of motherhood altogether.

But the fun didn't stop when Gila went back to work! No Sir! After she was safely delivered to her office, I drove 5 or 6 blocks to where the fabulous Scherezade was having lunch with two old friends. I got to have my necessary Diet Coke while Blake snoozed in the stroller, and feel like a hip mama while I was doing it. Then Scherezade & one of her friends (let's call her Delirium for the sake of naming continuity) got in the Purple Lassitude with me & we sped off to find anniversary presents.

I'm so glad Scherezade decided to prolong her stay in Toronto. I really don't know what I would've done if I couldn't go shopping with her. Well, I do know: I'd've gone to the local mall. With Scherezade around I have the confidence to visit craft stores & out-of-the-way shops to find something really cool.

After spending way too much money in Arts on King (and charming everyone in the place with my amazing baby, I might add), I nabbed Scherezade & took her hostage to B-ton, thinking that we could hang out in the basement like in times of yore. Unfortunately, I was completely addled by conversation, rush-hour traffic & highway construction, and managed to prolong our trip home to 2 ½ hours. Ugh. By the time we got the frantic Blake home, there was only time for a quick trip to Lick's (a treat for the ex-pat) and then the long ride home.

Still, I don't regret kidnapping her. Even 2 ½ hours in gridlock is fun when Scherezade's beside you, talking about her trip to the psychic. And we thoroughly enjoyed our trip to Lick's, which included her accusing me loudly of having a mullet & a ridiculously prolonged session of "eating down" an overfilled pint of ice cream.

"You could ask the hairstylist to give you a flattering haircut."
"I got my hair cut three weeks ago! I keep telling them I have a baby so I'm lucky to get a shower...and they going, okay, we'll just cut your hair so it'll only look attractive after 20 minutes of round brushing & hair drying."
"Why are you talking in that voice?"
"Because I just got my braces tightened and now no one will ask me to the spring dance, ok? Just shut up."

Thursday

My 4th anniversary started as Thursday's always do: with a visit to Baby Club. Attendance has plummeted of late, making me wonder why I make so much effort every week. If I didn't like the few remaining moms, I'd quit tonight.

Anyway, after Baby Club I went for a stroll down Bloor Street, killing time until my lunch date with the Boy. I tried (unsuccessfully, I might add) to let Blake sniff the pretty soaps in Outer Layer; he just tried to eat them all. And while I'd normally let the foulness of soaptaste arbitrate this dispute, I can't exactly let my baby lick sample soaps and then put them back for the next customer. No fruity soaps for you, my lad!

The Boy & I had lunch on the romantic patio at the romantic Future Bakery right next to a romantic spot of road maintenance. I had the aphrodisiac cabbage rolls while the Boy had the sexy chicken schnitzel. I was then given the traditional 4th anniversary presents of a dollar store cup with a happy face and an optical mouse before we headed off to Diaper-eez (our one-stop shop for cloth diapers & various intelligent parenting accessories). I love that store a little too much, I think: we bought bigger diaper covers, bigger diapers, a black nursing bra, a Groovy Boy called (wait for it) Blake, and a little mesh sack that screws into a plastic handle that's designed to safely hold food for toothless babies. All good purchases; I love my snazzy new bra, I love our tiny cloth doppelganger Blake, I love the big new diapers (when did he get so big?!) and I really love that little food sack.

We went home after this, slightly stunned by the amount on the receipt. Then we put Blake to bed, I gave the Boy his present (a hand painted cappuccino mug with matching saucer), and we sat down to find a wedding photo to fit the new anniversary frame. Quick explanation on that last one: every year I look for a picture frame that uses the "anniversary" material, and then choose a wedding photo to put into it & display for the year. It's worked out pretty well so far, except that the Boy doesn't like to wear the cotton shirt from our second anniversary. "Why should I wear a shirt with me on it? I am me," he says.

But in case you haven't noticed, my anniversary was not very romantic. Maybe this is something that comes with children or maybe it has to do with the increasing tally of years. Maybe it's the unique pressures of living with my family rather than as a discrete family unit. Or maybe we were just tired & quarrelsome this year. But any way you slice it, the bloom was off the rose this Thursday.

This isn't always a negative thing. It's inspired us to make a few positive changes in our lives together. Firstly, I decided to have an anniversary resolution. This is much like a New Year's resolution, only it happens on a wedding anniversary and is much more relevant to the seasons of my life. My resolution this year is to stop nitpicking the Boy's driving. I turn into a total windbag when we're on the road, and I'm worried that if I keep going like this I'll end up on Dr. Phil.

The Boy's resolution is to be a better driver. I pointed out that it should be about our relationship, but he says it's his resolution so I can't critique it. We were smiling when we had this conversation, so we haven't completely lost our sense of humour. (Our lives aren't all about the grimness. Most of the grimness is just recreational.)

The second thing we've decided to do is spend an hour kicking back with each other before we go to bed. We've fallen into the terrible habit of working with our backs to each other until we fall, exhausted, into bed. Our conversations are whispered in bed, and I'm always frantic about waking the baby. I'm trying to adjust my bedtime to a sensible hour, and this might help me be, well, sensible. I also hope that we can actually communicate for an hour rather than just grunt at each other in passing during the day.

We start tomorrow. I'm moderately excited about this.

Friday

Friday was taking care of business day. Among other errands, we went to the police station to give back the baby ("he cries all night!"). But we couldn't find our receipt, so we had to keep him. Instead we submitted a criminal record check for the Boy, so he can work in local schools this year. If we have to keep this baby, we may as well try to pay for the many things he requires. Bananas add up, you know!

Alternative Parents of Toronto gather this afternoon. I had a really quiet, really good time. I spent a lot of the afternoon chatting to interesting new moms & dads & toddlers & tweens, lying on the grass when I wanted to and letting the silence develop when there wasn't anything to say. No small talk, no birth stories, no shopping tips & no parenting competitions; just parents & kids who don't fit the media mould. I think what I liked best about it was that it wasn't "alternative as f*ck" either. Nobody tried to prove anything with tatts or holes or concert experiences or custom-tailored religions. In this way it was even an improvement over many parties populated by my childless peers.

Blake was the youngest baby there, and got passed around like a king. He was so charmed by this treatment that he hardly fussed at all, even when it was time to go. When we got the babe in bed & I took a look for the community on LiveJournal, I was unsurprised to find Loftwyr & Gilamonstre already among the watchers. Heh.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 8/21/2004 07:29:00 p.m.