We're having a lazy day today. The last three days have been pretty jam-packed and it's time to slow down. Last time I had a chance to write was on grocery-toting granola mom day; since then I've cooked, cleaned, swam, laughed, visited & toured. Oh, and ate. There was much eating.

On Wednesday Stephanie & Eva New York came over for swimming & baby wrangling. Eva was having a scream-tastic week, so Steph was looking for distracting activities every day. Unfortunately, Blake was still snotty in both attitude & nose, so by the time the ladies arrived I was nearly out of my mind with his ever-changing demands. It started off rough at 7:10 (what with the Boy going off to the working world every morning this week, I've had to give up my luxurious late mornings) and declined from there. At 9:30 I had given up on food, cleanliness, grooming, and the remote possibility of a morning nap; by then I was lying on the couch watching Buffy, the baby nursing in a desultory way at my side. Yet just as I'd totally surrendered, the impossible happened: Blake fell asleep. And he stayed asleep through a bowl of cereal, a shower, and the quickest house cleaning known to humanity. By the time he woke up again I was almost ready to greet the world. And I guess I got cocky.

It very likely wasn't sensible to begin cooking large quantities of baby food, but when have I ever been sensible? And it was fun to chop vegetables with Blake strapped to my chest while he diligently gnawed on a piece of raw potato. The less fun part was when he started grabbing for the knife & began to throw pieces of chopped vegetables to the floor. Luckily for the both of us, my brother chose this moment to saunter down the stairs.

"Take him," I snarled, handing over my poor snotty son.

Nic was surprised, but handled it well. He clumsily slung Blake onto his hip while he picked out a piece of fruit then disappeared up the stairs again. Ten minutes later I ventured up to his room, curious about the long silence. I found the two of them having a staring contest. My heart melted into a thick goo & soaked the carpet.

I had regained some balance by the time that my guests arrived. It was such a relief to let the babies play with one another, not worrying that they were either too rough or too delicate for the other. They have an agreeable relationship that mainly consists of poking, hooting, and squabbling over interesting objects.

When I gave Blake a bite of my cookie without thinking, I tried to recover my granola principles by fetching a teething biscuit from the freezer.

"Does Eva want a biscuit?" I asked, the model of etiquette. Steph declined, as Eva tends to throw up adult food. A few minutes later I saw Eva crawl up to Blake & snatch the biscuit out of his hand. What followed was a rollicking battle for supremacy that left the two of them (and a good portion of the kitchen floor) covered in dark brown mush. I love that they fight without emotional aggression; that'll change when they're toddlers but for now their tussles move seamlessly to joint feats of strength (like standing).

We did go in the pool for a brief time, but it was pretty cold thanks to the uncertain summer weather, and the babies wanted out before we did. We sunned ourselves on the stones, comparing all facets of development while the babies crawled around looking for dirt to eat.

After Steph & Eva left, the fun didn't stop! Oh, no! For it was finally time for me & the Boy's 4th anniversary outing: a second viewing of Urinetown. As my parents were out at the dentist & Blake was still a bit touchy, I strapped him to my chest as soon as I got dressed. It's a bit weird trying to put on makeup over a squirmy baby, especially when I've never been a steady hand with the old mascara brush, but we managed. He was fine as long as I let him hold something: a tube of lipstick, a blush brush, the mascara. Make of that what you will.

And then at some point during the wait, I put sailor hats on the two of us. There was no good reason. But did I need one?

two sailors: one getting ready to hit the town, the other getting ready for his bath.

The second showing of Urinetown was, if possible, even better than the first. Most of the jokes & surprises had filtered out of my short-term memory, so it lost none of its punch. And the songs were even better than I remembered. I'm glad I had the chance to share it with the Boy before it left town.

Thursday was a very busy day for the Rocketfamily. First up was Baby Club. Only 3 moms showed up but fortunately one is willing to take over the head spot so my early commute wasn't wasted. After this small but successful session, Blake & I went to pick up the Boy from his temp university gig. Have I ever mentioned the Boy's new job? No? Okay.

For the past two years, the Boy has been volunteering for a visionary math tutoring organization (let's call it STRIDE). STRIDE's mandate is to change the teaching of elementary school math so that most, if not all, children have the individual attention they need to succeed in a field that alienates so many. Part of this effort is tutoring (which was the Boy's thing), and part of it is re-writing the teaching of math. The leader of STRIDE is a visionary playwright with a PhD in math (he also consulted for and appeared in Good Will Hunting).

Right now the STRIDE offices are all a-flutter as they try to get the new workbooks out the door, and the Boy has been hired to provide relief on a number of fronts, from proofing to answer-checking to design. That this is a temp gig is a bit galling for the Boy, as he applied for a full-time position with STRIDE and was turned down. But he's still thrilled at this chance to work for STRIDE (we joke that it's his 'magic beans job,' as in, "look Rocketbride! I got paid all these magic beans for my first week! Isn't that cool?")

Anyway, when I cleared the doors to the STRIDE offices, I was in a terrific mood. I always love to walk through the U of T campus, and this time I'd had the chance to do so on a sunny morning with my happy baby drinking in the sights from his harness. I'd kept up a running monologue as we passed the buildings, informing Blake who & what & why each building was important. As the Boy & I like to say, Blake can go to any college he chooses at U of T.

But the STRIDE offices were not full of cheery good humour. Publishing deadlines were beating the hell out of everyone and the office was a tense place at best. But everything changed when we got there. Female staff cooed & gurgled at Blake, and the director hissownself took Blake on an extended tour of the office and the many interesting textures to be explored. By the time we left, people were actually smiling. Amazing.

From there we headed off to the Boy's father's house for dinner & visiting. We were asked to stay the night, but couldn't because of the job at STRIDE. This takes a weight off me; you may know that I'm allergic to cats, what you don't know is that they keep 3 house cats, 5 outdoor cats & 6 irregular wanderers. They do it for all the right reasons, still, it's hard to breathe at times. Blake had a blast playing with all the cat toys, though, especially with the balls that can't be taken out of the tracks. His confusion with that last toy is priceless. Sometimes I wonder if he'll be able to carve his own niche on that big bad food chain.

blake shows off his kill

Yesterday was the big deal. Steph & Eva New York were interested in going to the CNE, so we decided to go right before the long weekend. I have a number of memories of the CNE, both good and bad. Good: I used to go with my grandmother & mother, who enjoyed it at least as much as I did. Bad: the carnies were scary & the noise punishing. Good: my 17-year-old grandmother used to dance in a bikini outside the burlesque tent in the 40's. Bad: whenever I was unemployed in the summer, I was expected to get a swank $5/hr job in the food building.

And so on. I haven't been to the Ex since August 97, when I saw Big Sugar with my mother (hmm...can I find the entry? Nope. Too busy writing about stupid Alexi, I see.) Steph was relying on me to be the voice of experience, but what she hadn't counted on was my lack of directional sense & poor memory. I knew there was cool stuff, but I couldn't tell you where. Or if it still existed. But we decided to brave it anyway, so I packed up my baby & my carrier & my backpack o' diapers & drove to the New York house. The idea was to take transit to make everything easier. We didn't count on the fact that Eva's stroller is about 3 inches too wide for most bus openings, so we spent a great deal of time awkwardly wrestling with it & depending on the kindness of strangers. And then as soon as we walked in, we saw the place where you could rent a stroller.

Crap.

Our first stop was the Food Building, where everything smelled delicious. We made camp before we ordered, however, with the sensible idea that the babies may wish to breastfeed and they'd be less trouble if they're full. After we'd settled under a tree (and next to three garbage cans), I made a quick foray for fish n' chips. Oh heavenly grease! Oh the joy of hot salty food for the desperately hungry! The only problem was that by the time I was scarfing my fish, Steph was inside chasing her own food, Blake & Eva were crawling over the ground like monkeys in t-shirts, and although Eva was content eating grass, Blake soon tired of tasting maple keys. No, it was mama's food he wanted, and since I was sitting at his level I was an easy target. So I did something I swore to God & Dr. Sears I would never ever do: I gave him a french fry of his own.

The guilt! The horror! The irony that he didn't even like it that much! All of those things rose up to swamp me, and I confessed my crime as soon as I could. "Hey Steph," I called out as she returned with roti, "you missed my principles eroding completely."

There were other babies nearby, of course. Babies who sat quietly in their strollers and stayed clean. Babies who sucked soothers & contentedly watched the world go by. Babies who did not try to eat leaves & coleslaw & bark & everything but the carefully prepared baby food I had fetched along. Babies who did not squawk in dismay when diapers were changed; babies who did not try to escape, bare-assed, into the fairgrounds. Their moms wore makeup and sat on benches. No one saw their bare breasts or their underwear. They used utensils to eat. They were a vision.

But they were also feeding their babies cheese strings, so I suppose that there was some sort of bribery greasing the wheels.

blake & eva team up to escape with the stroller.

After we finished eating & cleaned up as best we could, we strapped on the wee ones & headed into the amusements. Our best idea was the petting zoo. I've never seen such a good, clean petting zoo with such stunning array of fun little animals: hens & sheep & pigs & chicks & geese & donkeys & cows & ducks & the ubiquitous goats. Blake got to go face-to-face with a goat, which he enjoyed immensely. He wasn't as thrilled when the two donkeys started a bray-off: there were many tears before those dumb asses shut up. And I fell into a group of strangers when a sheep pushed between my legs. But other than that, it was the awesomest.

We also tried to find the famous butter sculptures, but by the time we walked through the big hustling midway and got to the right building they were nowhere to be found. By this time the babies were exhausted & we were getting grey-faced ourselves. Blake started to cry in the sun and wouldn't be comforted by the most familiar of songs. It was time to go home.

So you can see why I'm so tired today. It was a brilliant finish to the week...and yet I need a nap. Again.

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 9/04/2004 09:39:00 p.m.