Posted by: rocketbride | August 4, 2012

see you meatballs when the summer’s through

Maggie seems out of sorts today, like she needs to tell us something that we’re too stupid to hear. She has only really mastered sitting for a month, but today she was curiously resistant to be sat down on the floor. She also didn’t want to be held in a lap or in a standing pose, and she complained while she ate bits of pork chop and pizza crust. My only theory is that she wants to be standing independently or crawling, although she can’t do either and trying seems to make her angry. This morning she was skritching around the floor on her tummy, moving randomly and talking the whole time. Time to lower the crib.

Today I did a lot of catching up on my July backlog of journal entries. I ran into a wall when I got to our Montreal trip, as my writing was just whatever I could capture in a small notebook that properly belongs to Blake, and I didn’t have the time to transcribe it. Hope I can get some time in the next few days before it all leaks out the bottom of my brain.

Reading Alison Bechdel’s memoir about her mom. I have to admit, I don’t like it as much as the first one about her dad, which I read a few days ago. Maybe I liked the narrative distance that comes when the subject has been dead for 20 years. Or maybe I’ve just read too much too fast, which often kills the enjoyment for me. I really wish I had met her at TCAF, but I guess there’s always the next time. As I say about Feist, I may not be able to get close to her now, but I’m in it for the long haul.

We have Sage this weekend, and I’m always struck by how difficult it can be to adjust to his personality. Not that he’s difficult: in fact, he’s relatively easy-going and easy to be with, especially in comparison to Blake. The adjustment comes with the fact that he’s 4 and not 8; I so often do a substitution for one to the other and expect Sage to be as capable as Blake.

The other thing I find difficult is the fact that his mom has such different parenting style than I. Little things drive me crazy about what he comes with, and it’s hard not to say rude or cutting things when he can hear them. Something every child of divorced parents will say is don’t criticise the other parent because it will force them to take the other’s side. I would much rather that Sage remembered me as the one who found him a cool hand-me-down shirt to wear and made the sharing seem a privilege, rather than the one who bitched and moaned about the too-small and faded shirt packed in his luggage.

Speaking of privilege, I honoured the extreme heat today and did my run on an indoor track. It was pretty boring, but I made it. I even got to speak sharply to some teenage boys, which assures me that my skills aren’t atrophying. See you in September, meatballs.


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