The Accountant


My mom told me that babies’ hair falls out and grows back in differently, and not to get attached to the sweet, sweet curls on Reiden’s head.

I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen so fast or so evenly, in a perfectly straight ring around the Larry David.

There wasn’t even time for a combover.

Not bad, for a Monday


Occasionally, I run into people I know as I’m strolling around with Reiden. I am always thrown a little off guard, when the person I’ve run into asks how things are going, and what I have been up to. “Oh, well, this,” I say, pointing at Rei, laughing. It’s always a little bit awkward. A baby is such a monumental change that it’s easy to be struck dumb when I’m forced to step back and describe how things “are”.

If I have plans to see friends, I’ll do a little thinking in advance. How are things going, really? What else am I doing? Because I *am* doing other things, like writing and traveling and reading and seeing people and cooking and trying to exercise. (And watching a whole lot of Community.)

But some days, there’s not much of anything. When a day is made up of nursing and a bit of play time and an overtired baby falling asleep on me for hours, the most exciting things are often rather mundane. I was in my bedroom for 90% of the day today. I don’t always get out much.

Then again, sometimes the thing that you’re still excited about, at 10:00 at night, is just too weird and/or trivial to tell anyone about. Even if, as a mother, you find it fascinating.

So yes. This morning, when I figured out that I could successfully use the NoseFrida snot sucker on Reiden 1. by myself, 2. without making her cry, 3. while making her smile, in fact?


I was triumphant. I whirled around the room and whooped. “I did it!” I shrieked, grinning at Rei. “And without Daddy!”

Monday, eat your heart out.

Baby It’s (Not Really So) Cold Outside


Yesterday, the weather report announced an extreme cold alert for Toronto, and advised that exposed skin could freeze in 10 minutes. It was something like -42 C, with wind chill.

“I’m not going anywhere!” I announced to Peter. And neither was my baby. “Her skin could freeze! In TEN minutes! TEN!”

By 3:00 today I was suffering from a bad case of cabin fever. “I guess I’ll take a walk,” I said.

In preparation, I piled on:

  • two pairs of pants
  • a lumberjack shirt over my dress
  • the largest mittens I own
  • faux-Sorel winter boots
  • an infinity scarf
  • one of those Russian secret agent hats that either looks really hip or slightly ridiculous, I haven’t decided, but I put it on at least once every winter when the cold breaks me

I stepped outside and pressed my scarf up around my face. No way was I going to lose my nose. But down on College street, I was dismayed to see people out and about, in various states of weather-snubbing attire (or lack of):

  • at least eight people without gloves, including an elderly woman
  • several men without hats, including a bald man
  • a baby!

I grumbled about them all the way home. Who were these people? What was wrong with them? Did they not care about their fingers? Their ears? “Ain’t no time to be a hero, people,” I muttered to myself. “Ain’t no time to be a hero.”

I got inside and told Peter about all the weather-flaunters. “People be crazy,” I said, pulling up CBC Weather to show him how low the temperature was.

It had risen to a balmy -13 C.





Dinner a la Pete


Earlier today, we were discussing dinner. We had plans to go to an afternoon NYE get-together, and would be getting home around 7:00. “It’ll be too late to make anything,” I was saying. “And anyway, I’ll need to get Rei into bed.”

“Hmm,” said Peter.

A little while later, he returned home after running an errand. “Hey!” he said. “So I was thinking, what is really fast to cook, AND is delicious?”

“What?” I said.

“Gnocchi!” he said. “We have that gnocchi in the fridge!”

“What about sauce?”

“Remember? We bought sauce! And while I was out, I picked up some sourdough bread! I can quickly make dinner when we get home from the party!”

God bless a man who can get that excited over packaged pasta and bottled sauce. God bless his sweet, happy little heart.