We all have a cold from hell. I completely lose my voice for a couple of days, making meetings and child-scolding difficult.
I take the kids to an event at the campus art museum, wrapping the big kid in tulle and gold so that he could join the dance party. Everyone else was done after a single song, but he twirls and twirls in his finery.
After an exhausting morning, I put the baby down on his play mat for five minutes of hands’ free time. When I look up, he has rolled over from back to belly! Having accomplished this once, he loses all interest in rolling over.
Our Christmas tree is small but wonderful, decorated with two dragons, two kabouters, and one one-eyed mummy kitty.
The farmers’ markets move indoors, so we occasionally go to the big(ger) market at the Nature Museum in the winter. The volunteers at the Club Sprouts stand love the big kid, so he happily stays to make a craft or learn about compost while I do the shopping with the baby asleep on my chest. These are the good Saturday mornings.
After months and months of constant nagging for snacks, we give the big kid his own designated snack cup in the fridge stocked with things he picks out at the store. This is been a game-changer for managing his hunger and reducing our frustration.
A colleague gifts us with a wonderful quilt made from pieces from my great grandmother. It is more beautiful than I could have imagined.
I spend half an afternoon with a dear friend, walking and talking as the light turns golden over the nature sanctuary. My heart and soul are restored.
The washing machines break in our building, so, frustrated beyond belief, I drag a week’s worth of laundry to the laundromat. This becomes a highly anticipated part of my weekend – a couple of hours to drink coffee, listen to podcasts, and get things done without any small helpers, often with a bonus trip to the gym after.
I take the big kid to the holiday party at my work. I have made a point of avoiding these parties for the entire time I’ve worked there, but he is delighted by the idea of the party and is on his best behavior for days in order to be able to go, so I give in. He is absolutely delightful, and I just about explode with pride.
The baby makes SO MUCH NOISE. He is the chattiest baby ever. We don’t remember the big kid being this chatty – we mostly remember a guttural purring sort of noise.
I start knitting again, excited to make a cowl for my sister-in-law, who has taken up running. It doesn’t always work out, but when it does, I sometimes squeeze in an hour or so of TV and knitting after the kids go to bed and while N is taking his evening walk.
We take the kids to the Christkindlmarket – so much easier without a stroller. We share hot chocolate and marzipan and cinnamon almonds and spend too much time looking at things for the big kid’s tastes. The Macy’s windows – forever Field’s to me – are lovely and entrancing, as is the Christmas tree in the Walnut Room. Sometimes it’s delightful to be a tourist in one’s own city.
The big kid struggles with the limits of our divided attention, and we struggle with the limits of his emotional maturity and willingness to listen. There’s more screaming in our house than our eardrums or our neighbors can really handle. It’s important to acknowledge these unvarnished part of a picture that otherwise seems rosy.
We celebrate 6 years together with a late lunch at a spot we visited on our first date, and announce our marriage now that the whole family knows about it.
As is the case when older siblings are involved, the baby obtains an unshakable and absolutely nonsensical nickname.
On Christmas Eve, we exchange our books. The big kid is delighted with his visual cookbook and suggests half a dozen things we can make.
We spend the holiday with my family in a giant pile of black watch-clad cousins. The day is a rush, despite the easy drive, and I arrive home feeling like I barely talked to anyone. I realize after bedtime that I didn’t take any photos with the baby on his first Christmas. Such is the case with second children, I suppose.
I swim laps for the first time in more than a year. It is exhausting and invigorating. I want more of this.
New Year’s Eve is a rush of a minimally successful dinner and harried bedtimes. We stay up late(r) watching The Expanse. I wake at 12:04 to fireworks.
- From Ottolenghi Simple:
- Brunsli cookies with five spice powder, made for the work party
- Pumpkin, saffron, and orange soup
- Bulgur with tomato, eggplant, and lemon yogurt
- Pumpkin with corn salsa and feta
- Stoemp, comforting in the cold weather
- Publican bread, picked up from our neighborhood bike shop
- Congee in the Instant Pot with odds and ends from the fridge
- Chana masala from Picture Cook
- Sweet corn polenta with broccolini