Going Solo

I'm in the middle of a two week single-parenting stint, thinking surely I must have eight million things to blog about. We'll start with a photo from the petting zoo. Not long after this was taken, Margot plopped on my lap and said, "I miss Daddy."

Draw-a-Thon: Pretty much as awesome as it sounds

I think there are maybe two places on earth where you might stumble upon a 24-hour Draw-a-Thon on your way out to dinner: Stars Hollow, and -- as it awesomely happens -- my neighborhood. I had heard mention of this event from a few friends, but somehow didn't process that "Draw-a-Thon" meant, you know, a marathon of drawing. 

Every surface in the warehouse was covered with butcher paper. There were colored pencils, Sharpies galore, chalk and thankfully for Margot's purposes, some good old fashioned washable Crayola markers. There were print-making workshops, cool spin-art stations, and a giant canvas globe. All you had to do was go inside and, you guessed it, draw!

I have never seen Margot as engrossed in anything as she was in her drawing. She sat here like this for more than twenty minutes, and really only stopped her work when when she'd filled up the additional canvas space she identified on her hands. 

It really was a banner day for the Bywater, confirming for me that despite what we have going against us -- and boy is there plenty -- there's really nowhere else on earth I'd rather be.

Marching On

This summer one of my dearest friends got sick, and very quickly passed away. On May 20th, we received an email with the subject line "bad news," and on September 2, she was gone. 

The world changed the minute I read that first email. My friends and I buried our heads in all the work that we thought needed to be done. There was ill-advised internet cancer research to conduct, food to be ordered, plane tickets to book, cheerful-sounding emails to compose, photo albums and tribute videos to create, and much much more .  We did everything we could to be with her, to give her good days, and to show her how much we loved her. It was good to do all of this. I know for sure that it saved us even though of course it couldn't save her. 

Now, of course, is the hard part. Now is the long road, where we march on and somehow get used to the fact that she's gone. It's another cliche that turns out to be true: you just put one foot in front of the other, you just take it one day at time.

My footing, though, has been better. Me and the universe have some work to do on our relationship. I of course know that bad things happen to good people, but this was one of my people. It seems petulant and naive, but I keep catching myself feeling surprised that this is actually how things work. That we have so little control. That it can all just be taken away. That it would happen to her of all the people on the earth.  No, surprised is the wrong word -- that's way too mild. Pissed off is more like it. 

I don't know what is on the other side of this feeling. I don't know if grief is something you get over, or something you just get used to. You could fill an ocean with what I don't know.

But, since this is a Margot blog, I'll say this: I am really, really glad she's here. It is just impossible to fall too deep into any rabbitholes with her around, thinking everything is awesome. My friend has a little girl, too, just a few months younger than Margot. It's such a heartbreak for this mother and daughter to have lost each other, but all the same, we are all so glad that she is around, too. You never want it to be their job to save us, but of course they totally do, every day, just by existing. 

Parent's Night

Last night was our first Parent's Night at Margot's new daycare. I was pretty excited to meet the other parents, hear more about the school's philosophy, and learn *cough cough* about "ways to get involved".

But our main goal was to maybe get a word in about the food they serve there. We are, in general, really happy with the care at this new place. Every morning when we ask Margot if she wants to go to school, she enthusiastically nods yes and makes her way towards to back door to get going already. We take this as a good sign. 

But at her old daycare, we got to make her lunch, and so her diet stayed within our control. It bears mentioning that we aren't exactly super hard core about what we allow Margot to eat. She's tried all kinds of terrible-for-you treats. But her regular, every day diet is healthy, simple foods (beans, cheese, blueberries, anyone?) and up until two weeks ago, she'd tried hardly any sugary sweets at all. 

The food at her new place isn't terrible, just instituational. She has Freezey Pops regularly, and honestly we're even kind of bugged by the daily barrage of salty crackers. Or "cereal bars". The reports of her adoration of the Salsbury steak lunch the other day were kind of cute and funny. Except, yeah. My fifteen month old knows what Salsbury steak is. 

So, back at Parent's Night, wandering around and awkwardly mingling with the other parents, I was thinking about how best to approach all of this. But you know what else? I was kind of hungry. Laid out before my rumbling tummy was a platter of store-bought cookies. Score! I picked out a sugar one, always a favorite, and wandered over to sit by Adam. The topic of food came up right as I was taking my first bite. Adam was explaining that, no, we don't give her juice or really any kind of refined sugar, etc etc. Meanwhile, Margot clomped over to my lap, yanked the cookie from my hands and was more or less inhaling it. 

So yeah, that took a little of the air out of our argument. I could have just taken it from her, I suppose, but that just seemed mean. (Also, maybe "boundaries" aren't my parental strong suit?) Margot's teacher, who has been at this center, teaching this exact age child for thirty-five years, smiled at us, knowingly, dubiously, and said, "She really likes that cookie."

Which is to say, the long road just got longer. 

Girls, girly

My copy of Cinderella Ate My Daughte arrived in the mail today. Tonight I will stay up too late reading it, and get all riled up about the princess bomb that is making its way toward my sweet daughter's heart even as I sit here typing this. Awesome.

I remmebered I wanted this book when Ryan over at Pacing the Panic Room caused a minor rukus by bringing up his own awkward efforts to sheild his daughter from pink culture. I found his post to be particularly brave and interesting, because he didn't just say what I always say ("I hate princess crap"). He actually make the point that "the enemy" generally presents itself in the form of another innocent, if bejeweled, little girl. The one who comes over to play with a tiara on and wonders why your kid doesn't know who Ariel is. What kind of a crazy set up is that?

Of course, Margot is only 15 months old, so I have no actual field experience in this area. And if there's one thing I've learned in my short time as a parent, it's that you just don't know til you're in it. Who knows how I will handle this, but I certainly never ever want to make any little girl, or any parent of any little girl, feel bad for their choices.

Because seriously. We're all just doing the best we can and deserve about seventy thousand breaks. In our house there are already toys I thought I'd never buy, videos I thought we'd shield her from for much longer, food I thought I'd never let her touch. Some of this is because we get lazy, but a lot of it is just because we live in the world, where things are messy and disorganized and where we, just like everybody else, are majorly not perfect. 

We eat junk food sometimes. We have been known on occasion to watch too much TV. We live across the street from a corner market where old men drink beer, hold court, and also wave and coo at Margot and call her "Cave Baby" (Don't ask.) Margot's world isn't pristine because ours isn't either. We can't change that, and so far I wouldn't want to. 

But if you extend this kind of thinking out a few steps further, it starts to get complicated, and fast. I have this semi-developed theory that being raised in a cocoon is not all it is cracked up to be. But, maybe I can build, like a meshy one that only keeps out Disney princesses and other things that fill her brain with Prince Charming myths? (Oh, also it keeps out Barney. We just don't like him.)

I don't know that I can have it both ways -- in and out of the cocoon -- when does that ever work? But I guess that's just what we do, right? Try even though we know we might lose, even though it doesn't quite make sense.