Author: Jaclyn

by

Bittersweet

On a hot summer day in 2016, a little family rolled into Old Town Alexandria after three chilly, lonely years up north in western New York.  When we decided that Buffalo was not the right fit for our family, we narrowed down our possible move destinations to two options – Washington, D.C. and Denver, Colorado – and agreed that the first job opportunity that came our way would be the decision-maker.  I diligently sent resumes to law firms in both cities, but deep down I think I knew that D.C. was calling me home.  And it did, and when that day came there was really no debating neighborhoods.  We’d lived in Alexandria – albeit south of Old Town, in the Mount Vernon area – for three years before our sojourn in Buffalo.  We couldn’t imagine being anything but Alexandrians.  Old Town had been our stomping grounds when we lived here before, and we had fond memories of strolling the waterfront and trundling baby Peanut in her BOB stroller over the cobblestones.  There was no question – Old Town it was.  We didn’t even consider any other neighborhoods.

We’ve been here four years now, and we have loved pretty much every minute.  (The last few months have sucked, but that’s not Old Town’s fault.)  It has been four years of living in a quaint rowhouse, walking out the door and being within a few minutes’ stroll of favorite restaurants, playgrounds, soccer fields, the library, boutiques, coffee shops and ice cream parlors and – of course – our beloved waterfront.  Countless hours have been spent running barefoot in the grass at Founders Park.  We’ve slurped ice creams from The Creamery, run and walked miles on the Mount Vernon Trail, and finished off many a date night at La Fromagerie, toasting our good luck to live in a place that makes us happy every day.

These narrow, winding streets and chevron brick sidewalks welcomed us home after three years of exile, and they’ve given us a place to learn, grow, stretch our wings and bond as a family of four.  While there have been sleepless stressful nights, opportunities missed, and losses suffered during our time here, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

And now – we’re leaving.

We’re not going far!  This isn’t another multi-state move.  Just one county over.  The main impetus for the move is the schools – the one, maybe only, drawback to Old Town is that the schools are spotty.  There are two public elementary schools in the neighborhood; we happen to be zoned for one that (for many private reasons) we weren’t comfortable sending our kids.  So they’ve spent the past four years at a private school and, on top of the costs associated with sending two kids to private school in the Washington, D.C. area, our experience with the school has been decidedly mixed.  We had one great year.  The others have ranged from middling to horrific.  I won’t go into detail on here, but staying in that situation after this year was just not an option.  (One of the kids was fine there – the other was very much not.)  So about a year ago we decided that once our lease expired on our rowhouse, we would shove off for Fairfax County and its nationally renowned public schools.

The public schools are the main impetus for the move.  But there are other reasons to go, too.  There’s the simple fact that our lease is ending and our landlords want to sell the house – and while we’ve loved our time here, we do not want to buy this place.  And I’m looking forward to having (a little) more space – including a guest bedroom! – and a yard in which the kids can run around.  My new place has a garden that is choked with weeds right now, so I’m also anticipating many happy hours with my hands in the dirt.

Perhaps the thing I’m most looking forward to – other than watching what happens to my savings account with the lower rent and free school – is the hiking riches.  The town we’re moving to, while it’s an easy commute into the city (once things open up again, anyway) has a very rural feel and is surrounded by parks and green space.  So while I’ll miss not being able to walk out to my favorite restaurants, a ten minute drive to spectacular hiking is decent compensation.

Fairfax County Perks

  • Gorgeous natural beauty!
  • Wealth of nearby trails for hiking, running and mountain biking.
  • Family movie nights on an honest-to-goodness village green.
  • Outdoor space to stretch, run around, and garden.
  • FREE SCHOOLS!  And cheaper rent!
  • Guest bedroom – visiting family won’t have to pay for hotels anymore.
  • A sunroom!  Will I become a crazy plant lady?  All signs point to “yes.”
  • New neighborhood restaurants to discover.
  • Room for EVEN MORE bookshelves.
  • Tall, tall trees.
  • A playroom for the kiddos, and a workspace for Steve.

But I’ll Miss ALX…

  • No more playgrounds and restaurants within walking distance.
  • No more boats within walking distance, either.
  • Actually, ALX is just way more walkable in general.
  • There’s no Buy Nothing community in my soon-to-be new neighborhood.
  • I’ll miss my pretty yellow kitchen so much.
  • The whole town is just way more quaint than anywhere else.
  • And there are no McMansions here.
  • And there’s public transportation!  I’ll miss Metro so much.
  • I can’t imagine not seeing the world’s sweetest next-door neighbors every day.  No one else compares!

It’s time to go.  The moving truck rolls in next week and then it’s on to new adventures.  It’s going to be bittersweet in many ways, but we’ll still be here all the time and we’ll carry all the gifts these four years have given us.  It’s funny that I feel so mopey about this move, because I know that on balance it’s going to be an improvement in our quality of life, and we’re only moving about 25 minutes away from our current neighborhood!  But Old Town has a huge piece of my heart, and I will definitely leave some of myself here.  I hope that one day, I call these streets home again.  For now – off to experience the life in Fairfax.

Have you ever gotten nostalgic ahead of a local move?

by

Quarantine Silverlining

As this pandemic and quarantine stretch on and on and on, I am trying hard to hold onto the perspective that this is only temporary (even if it doesn’t feel this way) and to look for the positives in every day and situation.  Sometimes I succeed at this, and sometimes I don’t, but it’s a journey, right?

Recently, on a Zoom call with my practice group, one of the partners suggested that we each share one of the silver linings to our particular quarantine cloud with the group.  The answers ranged from sweet (lots of people celebrating newfound or renewed connection with family and friends) to funny (a partner shared that he has been drafted into his daughter’s Tik Toks).  My answer was that we are finally sitting down for family dinners.  My kids go to bed so early that when I’m in the office, Steve usually ends up giving them dinner before I get home.  But since I’m now teleworking like everyone else, it’s easy to take quick break to throw dinner in the oven so we can all sit down together.

It got me thinking about and looking for some other silver linings, too.

The biggest one, I think, has been that I’ve learned to be more assertive in both my work and home lives.  Now that I have to homeschool my kids, I am just “out of office” while I’m doing that.  I do sometimes end up taking a call in the morning, but for the most part I have been able to tell colleagues and others when I am available, and most people respect that.  (Certainly my colleagues do!  Results are a bit more mixed outside of my firm.)  On the flip side, once I am logged on and working, I am “at work” and I’ve been able to tell my kids “Daddy’s in charge” during my work times.  I have a fear of appearing unavailable to anyone – it’s perfectionism rearing its ugly head; I can’t easily wrap my head around being anything less than the perfect employee and the perfect mom – but I have had to get over that, because I have no choice.  If I’m trying to do both jobs at the same time, it goes horribly – witness when I’ve attempted to contribute substantively on a work call while simultaneously taking the kids for a walk to get them out of Steve’s hair.  So I am trying not to do that anymore.  When I’m with the kids, my attention is on them, and when Steve and I swap “shifts” my attention turns to work.  I’m not 100% yet, but I can tell that my ability to be fully present with whatever task I am engaged in at the moment is getting better and better by the day, and I’m feeling less guilty about it.

Another thing I am feeling less guilty about: running.  In recent years I’ve found it hard to get motivated to lace up my running shoes and enjoy my old sport.  There is always something or someone that needs my attention, or I’m just tired.  But with quarantine, despite having less time than ever, I’ve insisted on taking the time to run.  (This is something Steve is really good at: he doesn’t ask permission or feel guilty; he just puts on his shoes and goes running when he wants to.  Now instead of jealously wishing I could be like that, I’m just doing it, too.)  I signed up for a Train Like a Mother virtual race program and have been enjoying the thoughtfully-made training program and all the support in the private Facebook community for TLAM participants.  I haven’t done every workout on the calendar, but I’ve done most of them – really embracing one of Another Mother Runner’s taglines: “Don’t Think.  Just Go.”  I don’t really think about running anymore.  I just put my shoes on and go do whatever the calendar tells me to do.  The fresh air and movement are paying off in so many ways.

Hiking has been pretty impossible.  First the trails were unusually crowded – it was as if everyone in DC suddenly discovered hiking – and that made us nervous.  And then the parks started closing their gates, either entirely or partially.  Some stayed open “for passive use only” meaning hiking was still allowed, but you couldn’t park your car near the trailhead.  Some intrepid folks might be able to find a parking spot on a road outside the park and hike two miles in before they even get to the trailhead, but we’re hiking with kids and we can’t do that.  So while we’ve made a few attempts at it, hiking has been mostly off the table – which has been hard.  (I know, many people have it worse.  I recognize the privilege in what I just wrote, believe me!  But hiking is a huge part of our family culture and one of our favorite things to do together, and I miss it.)  The upside of not being able to hit my favorite trails as often as I am used to doing: we are going for more neighborhood walks than ever.  We still want our fresh air and to get out and walk together as a family, so this is how we have to get it right now.  And it’s forced us – or me, at least – to stop and pay attention to the beauty in my own backyard.  I’m on record as thinking that my neighborhood is the most beautiful town in America (change my mind) so it’s not like I was failing to appreciate it before.  But I usually look at the historic buildings and the quaint cobblestone streets, and now I’m also noticing the blue skies, blooming trees, and sunlight sparkling off the Potomac.

With the library being closed for going on two months now, one of my quintessential weekend activities is tabled: there’s no popping by the branch to return books and pick up new holds, or letting the kids run around the children’s section.  In addition to the obvious benefit to that (we are physically unable to check out that book about motorcycles for the four millionth time, Nugget, I am super sad about that!) I’m finally reading from my own shelves.  Not all the time – I did have a stack of books checked out when the library closed its doors, and I am rationing those, and I also had a small pile borrowed from my friend Susan that I am finally getting around to reading (I just don’t know when I’m going to be able to see her to give them back, but details).  But luckily, that’s not all I have.  I’ve got a pretty big, and thoughtfully curated, collection of books that I have either read many times and cherish, or that I just know I’m going to love (I’m fairly well acquainted with my own reading tastes at this point).  I’m always saying that this will be the time I read more from my own shelves, library addiction or no library addiction – but now it’s really here.  It just took a quarantine and a closed library to make me do it.

This isn’t really a new thing, but baking with the kids is getting more and more fun.  Before the schools closed, Peanut was struggling a lot with her confidence around math.  I could write a book-length blog post about that, but I’m not going to for several reasons (including respect for her privacy).  Since we have started homeschooling, I think she has made a lot of progress with math.  In addition to workbook pages – which I do make her do every day – I have been trying to show her how we use numbers in our everyday lives.  We talk about money, and I show her how I use math in my work (for instance, double checking to make sure a client has cut settlement checks in the right amount – I am pleased to report that my clients always do that correctly).  We measure the amount of birdseed that we need to fill our feeder, and we talk about clocks and telling time.  But more than anything else, we bake.  At the beginning of quarantine, scanning homeschool resources, I came across a sentence in one blog to the effect of “A great deal of homeschool math is done in the kitchen.”  I’ve used baking before as a way to teach Peanut to follow directions – she likes to march to the beat of her own drummer, which I think is cool, but sometimes you need to follow directions and baking is good for that concept, since she enjoys it.  Now we’re also using it to talk about measurement and fractions.  And at the end, we get Victoria Sponge, or upside-down cake, or muffins, or bread.  (Don’t worry, about half of what we churn out is handed over the fence to the neighbors!)  Win-win, right?

This is definitely a weird and scary time, but practicing gratitude and looking for silver linings is keeping me grounded.  I’m starting to think about what I’d like life to look like after this is all over – I believe that there will be things that will have shifted, both for me personally and on a global level, and I want to be intentional about the way I structure my life after quarantine.  These silver linings are definitely guiding my perspective around post-quarantine priorities.  More on that to come, maybe, if I have any organized thoughts to speak of at any point.

What are your quarantine silver linings?

by

It’s Monday! What Are You Reading?

Gooooooooood morning, friends.  How are you holding up in week one million of global pandemic?  I’m basically done with all of it.  Last week was busy and stressful at work, and this week promises more of the same.  I needed a relaxing, stress-free weekend, but that wasn’t to be either – the kids were in rare form and driving me crazy most of the time.  They’re usually extremely sweet, but they have their moments when they can also be total jerks, and that was most of this weekend.  (I know they’re stressed out by this whole situation – believe me, I get it – but so am I, and I just need them to get in line and on board.)  Anyway, we mostly hung around the house on Saturday.  Steve took a carload of stuff over to the new house, and the kids and I knocked around our current place and got under each other’s skin.  On Sunday, we needed a nature release badly; I wanted to stay in Alexandria – we’re moving close to some of the best hiking in NoVA, but we’ll have plenty of time to explore every inch of those trails in the coming years and I’m trying to soak up my current area before the move.  So we stuck with a trail nearby and had a pretty nice walk.  The kids were generally cooperative; there was only one incident of “let’s pretend our trekking poles are giant tweezers!” and I only had to carry Nugget’s poles for about a quarter of the hike, so, success.  The rest of the day, we just knocked around the house.  Steve went back to the new place with another carload, and I made flatbread with sourdough discard starter (came out okay).  Nugget and I spent the afternoon building a village out of Magna-Tiles while Peanut napped.  So – quiet, but pretty peaceful.  At least until I had the nerve to ask Nugget to clean up a bunch of art supplies he’d dumped on the stairs.  All good things must come to an end.

Reading.  So, last week I warned you that this was going to be a Lumberjanes-heavy space for awhile.  I’ve been struggling with a reading slump, pandemic-induced and exacerbated by all the worries of the world in 2020, and Lumberjanes was the first thing in weeks that I was actually excited to pick up and read.  I’m sticking with it as long as it’s working for me (or until I run out of Lumberjanes to read, which could take some time, since I have fourteen trade paperback collections of the comics, two graphic novels, two bonus trade paperbacks, and four YA novels).  Expect to see more Lumberjanes in this spot for the foreseeable future, or at least until I lose interest.

Watching.  Lots of watching again, last week, which is as to be expected mid-reading slump.  We’re still really enjoying TV time as a family – this past week, we finished up our unwatched episodes of Rock the Park and the season finale of Be Our Chef.  Since we were going to need something new to watch, Steve took the initiative and downloaded Blue Planet II, and we watched the first episode together as a family on Sunday night.  SO good!  The best part, of course, was the orcas and humpback whales eating herring.  Naturally!  Without the kids, I had another couple of evenings of zoning out to the Pure Adirondacks YouTube channel and I’m astonished to report I’ve reached the end.  Anyone else have an outdoor adventurey YouTube channel they like?  Hit me with your recommendations, please.

Listening.  Since I didn’t do much running last week – it was a big work week, whoops – I didn’t do much listening, either.  Just a couple of episodes, or maybe even less than that, of Another Mother Runner.  And weighted towards the beginning of the week, so now I can’t even tell you the highlights.

Making.  Work product aside, there was just a bit of puttering in the kitchen.  A loaf of sourdough sandwich bread, earlier in the week.  And on Sunday, a batch of homemade applesauce (the kids love it; the parents do too) and a first attempt at flatbreads made with discard sourdough starter.  They came out pretty well and were gobbled up, but I think I can do better.  Outside the kitchen, some plans were (tentatively) made.  Wanderlust is hitting hard the longer we’re in quarantine (or quarantine-lite) and Steve and I had a long discussion about making one of our ultimate dream trips happen in the not-too-distant (about 18 months from now) future.  Since we decided to go for it, it’s been on my mind constantly and I’ve spent hours this week adding to my (already considerable) pile of research.  Details to come when (!) we finally book the trip, but I’m excited.  It’s a destination I’ve been dreaming about since I was a little girl.

Moving.  Oof, not much this week.  A couple of runs, or maybe even just one?  And that hike on Sunday – that’s it.  I seem to be in a pattern: one great week, one blah week, repeat ad nauseum.  I’m always happier, more patient, more peaceful and more content when I get that movement time in, so I really need to learn to insist upon it and guard my workout time against threats foreign (work) and domestic (kids).

Blogging.  So, I promised you quarantine silver lines last week, but I felt compelled to write something else instead, and gave you my anti-racist reading list.  That was my way of processing some of the awfulness that is in this country right now, so I’m glad I wrote it.  But I’ll give you those silver lines this week instead – how about on Wednesday?  And then on Friday, a post about moving (soon) and all the mixed feelings.

Loving.  My cousin got married on Saturday!  Sweet Jocelyn and her extremely lucky new husband Jason (I’m sure he knows he scored) have been planning their June wedding for a year and a half.  It definitely wasn’t what they had in mind when they first got engaged, thanks for nothing COVID-19.  But they decided that instead of postponing their wedding and risking it getting postponed again and again, they would tie the knot on their original date, with just a handful of family, and throw their reception in September.  They livestreamed the ceremony for those of us who couldn’t make it to upstate New York, and our family gathered on the couch to watch the bride and groom say their vows.  I was a little sad – I wanted to be there in person; Peanut and Nugget were supposed to be in the wedding along with Jocelyn’s new niece and nephew.  But I was thankful that through the miracle of technology, we were able to watch over Facebook Live.  And I’m still hoping for that big reception in September.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

by

Anti-Racists Read!

Like so many of my friends (online and off) I am watching the events in our American cities with horror and sadness, and looking for ways to educate myself and to help out.  I’ve donated to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund, as a first step, and I’m looking around the internet for reading lists and other resources to become more informed.  I don’t pretend to have all (or even many) of the answers, and I have a lot more reading to do myself, but a few years ago I committed to making my reading list more diverse – adding BIPOC, LGBTQ+, different/underrepresented religious groups, and others to my list of authors to support.  I still have so many more books to read, but in the meantime, here are a few that I’ve read over the past few years, that have added to my understanding and compassion, and made my reading list so much richer.

(Pssst: for a good start, check out this anti-racist reading list from my friend Katie, and a massive diverse booklist from my friend Shan, and go get yourself a copy of The Well-Read Black Girl, by Glory Edim.)

Classics

Sula, by Toni Morrison.  A beautiful celebration of friendship between two very different Black women.

Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston.  THE ultimate classic, and gorgeously written.

In Love and Trouble: Stories of Black Women, by Alice Walker.  A moving and powerful collection.

Second Class Citizen, by Buchi Emecheta.  The experience of an African immigrant in 20th century London.

The Complete Collected Poems, by Maya Angelou.  Essential!

Of all the genres, I think I’ve read the fewest Black authors in the classics genre.  I don’t know how that happened!  Must correct that right away.

Modern Literary Fiction

Girl, Woman, Other, by Bernardine Evaristo.  Totally enthralling, and reads like poetry.

The Mothers, by Brit Bennet.  I loved the Greek chorus style of the church mothers.

Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  A different perspective on race in America, through the lens of an immigrant.

An American Marriage, by Tayari Jones.  This sad story of justice gone wrong is on just about every anti-racist reading list, for good reason!

Behold the Dreamers, by Imbolo Mbue.  Another immigrant story, and absolutely beautiful.

The Hate U Give, by Angie Thomas.  Incredibly powerful and true for the times.

Sing, Unburied, Sing, by Jesmyn Ward.  Heart-wrenching and sad and a total page-turner.

The hardest thing about making this list was keeping it a manageable length.  There are SO many wonderful pieces of writing out there by Black writers and they touch on all aspects of the modern Black experience.  As someone who is only going to experience that by reading and hearing about others’ experiences, I am looking for all of the information I can get.

Historical Fiction

Half of a Yellow Sun, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  Powerful novel about a period in history that I didn’t know much about.

The Shadow King, by Maaza Mengiste.  Sad and powerful novel of Ethiopia during World War II.

The Underground Railroad, by Colson Whitehead.  A novel of escaping slavery, with a heavy dose of magical realism.

Feathers, by Jacqueline Woodson.  Brooklyn in the 1970s – gorgeously crafted like everything Woodson does.

Stella by Starlight, by Sharon M. Draper.  A middle-grade book about segregation.

Homegoing, by Yaa Gyasi.  Linked short stories following two branches of an African family – beginning with two sisters separated by slavery, one of whom stayed in Africa and one of whose descendants witnessed history in the United States.

Kindred, by Octavia E. Butler.  Can’t have an anti-racist reading list without Butler’s time travel classic.

There is so much rich historical fiction out there, telling Black stories and amplifying Black voices.  I’ve loved historical fiction since I was a little girl, and it’s a wonderful and approachable way to start learning history.  (I can’t tell you how many times a historical fiction novel has sent me running for a nonfiction book or scholarly work to learn more.)

Memoir

Becoming, by Michelle Obama.  I loved every word of this memoir; forever my First Lady.

The Girl Who Smiled Beads: A Story of War and What Comes After, by Clemantine Wamariya.  Horrifying and powerful memoir of war, displacement, and the refugee experience.

When They Call You a Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir, by Patrisse Khan-Cullors.  This should be required reading for everyone, especially right now.

Brown Girl Dreaming, by Jacqueline Woodson.  I love a good memoir in verse, and I think this might be my favorite ever.

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, by Frederick Douglass.  This could go in the “classics” section, but regardless of where it’s listed – totally essential.

Mom & Me & Mom, by Maya Angelou.  Most folks are familiar with the classic I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, but Angelou wrote several other memoirs as well, including this moving memoir of her relationship with her mother.

March, Vols. I, II and III, by Representative John Lewis.  This is an incredible three-volume graphic novel style memoir by Rep. John Lewis – an icon in Congress – describing his experiences as an activist during the Civil Rights Movement.

There have been SO many incredible Black memoirs – it’s hard to choose a short list to share, but the good news is there are many, many more to discover.

Essays

The Fire This Time: A New Generation Speaks About Race, ed. Jesmyn Ward.  Incredible collection of essays, curated and edited by one of the most talented American writers of all time.  (Sing, Unburied, Sing was also magnificent.)

Why I’m No Longer Talking (To White People) About Race, by Reni Eddo-Lodge.  Really fascinating perspective from a Black British thinker; I learned a lot that my American-focused history classes didn’t cover.

I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness, by Austin Channing Brown.  Of all the essay collections I’ve read by Black writers, I think this beautiful collection is my favorite.

This Will Be My Undoing: Living at the Intersection of Black, Female and Feminist in (White) America, by Morgan Jerkins.  Important perspectives on intersectionality.

Dear Ijeawele, or, A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.  It’s probably obvious from this list, but I absolutely love Adichie’s work.  This is a fast read, but really powerful.

We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy, by Ta-Nehisi Coates.  Not including Between the World and Me on this list, mostly because I think pretty much everyone has read it (but start there if you haven’t).  This collection of Coates’ essays on race, published in The Atlantic during the Obama Administration, is also fantastic.

The Origin of Others, by Toni Morrison.  I’ve had Morrison on my list forever, but have been intimidated.  Starting with this slim essay collection was perfect.

You Can’t Touch My Hair, And Other Things I Still Have to Explain, by Phoebe Robinson.  Insightful, but also hilarious – there’s definitely a space for that.

Again – so many wonderful essay collections by Black writers!  (And mostly Black women, which is not surprising since I tend to gravitate to women’s voices more in general.)  

So – an incomplete list, but a list nonetheless: a jumping-off point.  I’m definitely not done reading through the wealth of material that’s out there, and I have been collecting anti-racist reading lists for more ideas.  Speaking of which – what’ve I missed?  Hit me with your best recommendations.

How are you working to educate yourself on race and justice issues during this time?

by

Reading Round-Up: May 2020

Reading is my oldest and favorite hobby. I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book. Here are my reads for May, 2020…

The Old Farmer’s Almanac: Vegetable Gardener’s Handbook, by The Old Farmer’s Almanac – Trying to head off an impending reading slump, and to get a head start on planning (maybe?) a bigger vegetable garden for after I move, I dug into the latest edition of this gardening reference book with glee.  It was full of useful information but not very suited to reading cover-to-cover; I foresee myself getting a lot of use out of it as an occasional reference, though.

Where Angels Fear to Tread, by E. M. Forster – Another one from the Classics Club list (full review coming soon) – Where Angels Fear to Tread is not going to supplant A Passage to India as my favorite of Forster’s works, but it was a really worthwhile read.  This was his first novel and you can certainly see him working through the themes of travel and culture clash that he refines in later works like A Room With a View and A Passage to India.

Jane Austen at Home, by Lucy Worsley – This new Austen biography was on a stack of loaners from my friend Susan; I’m trying to read through them all before the pandemic ends and we are able to get together again, so I can hand them all back to her at once.  By the time I picked this up, I was in the throes of a full-on reading slump, and as a result it took me almost two weeks to get through – definitely unusual, because this is an engaging and fascinating work that I would normally tear through in just a couple of days.  I’ve read a few of Worsley’s books now and they’re always thoughtful, interesting, and approachable.

Merry Hall (Merry Hall #1), by Beverly Nichols – Nichols has been on my list to read for quite some time, and I definitely enjoyed my first encounter with him.  His garden and nature writing is sublime, and he had me laughing with his descriptions of encounters with local characters Oldfield (the gardener), Miss Emily, and “Our Rose.”  There are some cringeworthy moments for the modern reader, so do bear that in mind – but those are relatively few and far between.

The Boy Who Lost Fairyland (Fairyland #4), by Catherynne M. Valente – I’ve been very slowly reading through Valente’s Fairyland series and every volume is wonderful.  (I should probably not read quite so slowly, because I find myself forgetting what came before.)  The Boy Who Lost Fairyland is the only volume in the series that does not focus on main characters September and Saturday, although they do make an appearance – and as a result, I don’t think it’s my favorite.  Most of the action takes place in Chicago, following a changeling boy as he tries to understand and live in the human world, then finds an opening to get back to Fairyland.  It was a delight, but I’ll be glad to get back to the main storyline in the fifth and final volume.

Austentatious: The Evolving World of Jane Austen Fans, by Holly Luetkenhaus & Zoe Weinstein – Another loaner from my friend Susan; this time of one of her 2020 Christmas gifts!  (I’m loved, am I not?)  This is a series of essays that thoughtfully explores the online fandom culture surrounding Jane Austen in recent years.  Each was well-considered and engaging, but I particularly liked the essays that focused on meme culture; Clueless; and sexual orientation, respectively.

Lumberjanes, Vol. 1: Beware the Kitten Holy, by Noelle Stevenson – Battling what has become a full-on reading slump, I had a sudden desire on the last day of the month to return to Miss Quinzilla Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s camp for hard-core lady-types.  Since I haven’t felt any excitement around reading for weeks, I clearly went with it, and it was just what the doctor ordered.  I’ve read the first two volumes of Lumberjanes before, so knowing the story already, I was able to catch more of the literary and pop culture references – which was extra fun.

Lumberjanes, Vol. 2: Friendship to the Max!, by Noelle Stevenson – This volume wraps up the storyline that begins in the first volume.  Lumberjane Scouts Jo, April, Mal, Molly and Ripley continue to attract danger and battle mythical monsters, much to the chagrin of their rule-following counselor, Jen.  (“Nerd counselor!  Read the star chart for me!”)  Between velociraptor attacks and an eventful game of capture the flag, not to mention a cave full of ancient boobytraps, the Lumberjanes have their hands full!  I wish my summer camp experience was as exciting…

So – eight books in May.  Considering that I’m battling a pandemic-induced and news-exacerbated reading slump, eight is a good number.  But May’s a long month and I’d have liked to read more.  It’s not just about numbers – I miss the joy that I usually get from picking up a book.  Some of that started to return at the end of the month, and I’m planning to keep reading Lumberjanes as long as it’s working for me, so expect a very summer-campy recap at the end of June.  I’ve got a big stack of trade paperbacks, graphic novels and YA books all set at Miss Quinzilla Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s camp for hard-core lady-types, and they’re calling my name.  (Also, I realized that fully 50% of the books I read in May had at least one LGBTQ+ author, so that’s pretty cool.)  Other than Lumberjanes, the highlight of the month was Jane Austen at Home.  I love an Austen biography, and I love Lucy Worsley, so that’s a winning combination right there – even if my mental powers were so drained from three months of attempting to work at home while my kids climb on me that it took me thirteen days to finish.  Here’s hoping for a happier month of reading in June…

What did you read in May?

by

It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (June 1, 2020)

Morning, friends.  Another new week – it has to be better than last week, right?  These are awful times that we are living through right now, and I am privileged enough that for me the awfulness is just in the watching, and not in the living.  The senseless murder – because it was murder – of George Floyd is sitting heavily on my heart, as it is on many hearts.  Reading about his cry of “Mama!” brought me to tears, as someone who answers to that name.  And coming so soon after my running community mourned Ahmaud Arbery, I just don’t know what to say anymore.  I often find myself without words after these horrible crimes – not because I don’t care, but because I worry that my voice won’t add anything to the conversation and will ring hollow to people who are actually suffering, or that posting to a hashtag will come across as lip service and nothing more.  But that’s clearly not good enough, so I am trying to come up with words.  I’ve checked in on my friends who are people of color and let them know that I am here if they ever need me.  I’ve arranged another FaceTime play date for Peanut and her BFF, who is biracial.  And I’ve downloaded anti-racist reading lists, which include quite a few books I’ve already read but plenty more ideas, and donated to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund.  (Here’s the donation page, in case you want to make a contribution too.)

Anyway, with that – I do try to keep politics and justice issues out of my writing here, not because it’s not important to me but because I like having this space as an escape.  So.  The hideousness of the world last week aside, how are you all holding up in week eleventy-seven bajillion of the age of corona?  We had kind of a rough week, even setting the state of the world aside, last week.  Nugget had not one, but two spills on the bike path: one when he and his sister were clowning around and she ended up plowing into him and knocking him over during a morning walk, and one when our bikes got tangled up together on Saturday morning.  (I took the brunt of that one, of course, and my hands look pretty bad right now.)  And the kids were sort of at cross-purposes all week; a lot of bickering between the two of them, and defiance directed at Steve and me if we had the audacity to say things like “Turn off the TV” or “Wash your hands, it’s dinnertime.”  At least the weather is good?

Reading.  Most of the week was pretty slow, at least as far as books were concerned.  (I read a lot of news coverage and opinion pieces, though.)  After finishing Austentatious, I tried to pick up The Heat of the Day, by Elizabeth Bowen – the last book off my library stack.  I got about a chapter and a half into it, and I can tell that it’s beautifully written and is going to be wonderful, but I also can’t seem to motivate myself to pick it up.  Instead of reading, I spent most of the week puttering around the house and scrolling on my phone – not at all satisfying, but my brain just didn’t want a book.  On Sunday, I had a sudden desire to dive back into the Lumberjanes world.  (A bunch of hardcore lady types solving anagrams, battling mythical monsters, and shouting out exclamations like “Holy Mae Jemison!” seemed like exactly what I needed.)  I ended up spending a chunk of the day with my face buried in the first three volumes, and I feel more excited to read than I have in weeks.  So that’s something.

Watching.  As with any light reading week, it was a heavy watching week.  We did a lot of family TV watching – including several episodes of Rock the Park, the penultimate Be Our Chef, and Ratatouille (twice).  Steve and I also watched two episodes of The Crown (we’re way behind, so no one tell me what happens in season three, okay?) and I spent an evening zoning out to the Pure Adirondacks channel on YouTube.

Listening.  Back on podcasts while running – I listened to two-and-a-half episodes of Another Mother Runner (on the future of races in the age of corona, tips for trail running, and long run routines).  The episode on the changes that are coming to racing was especially interesting, since I’m hoping to stick my toe back in the local race scene starting in the fall.

Making.  Not much this week, in keeping with a week in which I felt paralyzed by the state of the world and out of sorts by the state of my house.  I stayed up late baking bread on Saturday night, but I think that’s the only thing I really made this week – a few dinners aside.  Not much creativity around here at the moment.

Moving.  On the other hand, it was a pretty good week on the moving front.  I got in three runs during the week and a hike on the Patowmack Trail at Great Falls Park on Sunday.  Skipped a few workouts toward the end of the week, because I had another virtual 5K and I wanted to take some time off my last one, so I needed fresh legs.  I did skim off about a minute – not as much as I wanted to, but every step counts.  Aside from running, I didn’t do much; this week my goal is to get in at least two strength training sessions in addition to running.  I’m beginning to cautiously think about some goals for the fall and beyond, which feels good.

Blogging.  Going to be a fun week around here!  I have my May book list for you on Wednesday (sadly, it’s on the shorter side – especially for such a long month – since most of the month was a full-blown reading slump) and a post about quarantine silver lines on Friday.  Check in with me then!

Loving.  As the weather has gotten better and it’s turning into full summer here, I’ve been enjoying my outdoor spaces.  I hate going inside when it’s nice out, but with social distancing we are trying not to leave the house more than once a day.  So I’ve been spending a lot of time on my back patio and my front porch.  The chairs on my porch were pretty grimy after the winter, and I spent some time cleaning them up thoroughly – and now they’re my favorites (again).  I’ve been sitting out there with a bottle of water and (sometimes) a book, breathing the outside air, watching the birds and waving to my neighbors, and it’s been so refreshing.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

by

Twelve Months of Trails: Difficult Run Stream Valley Park (Great Falls, Virginia) — May 2020

Mother’s Day 2020 dawned bright and sunny, if a bit crisp in the morning, and I had only one request – a hike, please!  Hiking has been a challenge recently: as Steve and I have lamented, now that everything is closed, it seems that everyone in the DMV has discovered our favorite pastime.  I mean, really: the trails used to be less crowded, didn’t they?  I have no problem with fellow hikers on the trail – indeed, I’m on record as saying I love seeing other folks out there enjoying public lands as much as we do.  But still, it’s hard to socially distance when everyone and their mom suddenly hikes.  Adding to the difficulty is the fact that the parks eventually recognized the issue and most of them are now closed.  (While the rest of the country looks at reopening schedules, our stay-at-home order in Virginia is continuing for at least another two weeks, maybe longer.)  So when I said I wanted to hike on Mother’s Day, I was aware that it might not happen.

But it did!  Big thanks go to Steve, who did the research and found a trail option and then a backup option.  We did end up going to our Plan B, but it ended up being great – we discovered a new-to-us trail that I can see us exploring a lot in days to come: Difficult Run Stream Valley Park.  The trailhead was easy to find, and there weren’t many people on the trail with us: other than a couple of single hiker/runners, two families and a group of mountain bikers, we had the place to ourselves.

Steve packed trail snacks: NutriGrain bars for each of us, and M&Ms for the kids.  At one point, Peanut started complaining of something “small and round” in her boot.  I told her to hang tight until we got through a muddy section and then we’d figure it out.  We squelched through the mud, then Steve turned her boot upside-down.  When the offending object toppled out of her boot, she gasped in surprise: “OH!  It’s an M&M!”  Hiking with kids, I’ll tell ya – it’s never dull.

Difficult Run was beautiful!  While I took in the peacefully bubbling stream, snapping away on my iPhone and my dad’s old Minolta, the kids were doing this:

Sitting in a mud puddle, poking tadpoles.

Got them moving eventually!

Eventually we came to a stream crossing.  It was about the time we wanted to turn back to the car, but we decided to cross the stream first, just for fun, then cross again and head home.

Daddy went first:

My turn!  View from the middle:

And of course, on the way back, we stopped and poked tadpoles some more.

So excited to live closer to trails like this one – and many more – this summer and beyond!

Have you been able to get out for a hike this month?

by

Themed Reads: For the Black Thumbs Amongst Us

I am a gardener in aspiration, but not in fact.  My next-door neighbor, Zoya, is an incredibly gifted gardener, and I often hang over the fence watching her putter about, moving plants from pot to ground to pot, pruning and adjusting and sprinkling.  She goes in more for flowers and greenery (whereas I am always struggling with vegetables and herbs) and her patio is a dreamscape.  (In case it needs to be said, the picture above: not Zoya’s patio.  That’s the Sunken Garden at Kensington Palace in London.)  Once Zoya asked me for advice on growing tomatoes, and I nearly fell over in shock.  More often, I’m the one begging for her wisdom.  For instance: I had a pot full of mint that died.  I meant to pull the dead roots, but didn’t get around to it.  The next spring, completely overnight, it burst with what appears to be mint… but not the same mint that died; it’s a completely different varietal.  This freaked me out to no end, and I asked Zoya if it was safe to eat.  She told me, “Don’t question it.”  My sweet sister-in-law, Danielle, confirmed over FaceTime that it seems to be spearmint.  But I’ve never planted spearmint.  The dead mint was a peppermint varietal.  How spearmint appeared, I can’t say, but the plant has been officially named “Jesus Mint.”  Needless to say, I’m still staring at it, afraid to eat it.

So now you know all my gardening secrets: I can’t do it.  Those of you who have been reading long enough to remember the Cayenne Pepper Incident of 2017 will not be surprised.  But the black thumb doesn’t stop me from wanting to garden, planning and planting and watching and grousing when nothing grows, and it definitely doesn’t stop me from reading about gardens that are more lush than mine, and gardeners with actual, honest-to-goodness green thumbs.  Maybe someday.  For now, for those of you who are garden cursed like me, here’s some inspiration:

Elizabeth and Her German Garden, by Elizabeth von Arnim – This is probably the quintessential garden book (is it a memoir? is it a novel? what is it, exactly?) of the early twentieth century.  Elizabeth was so ubiquitous at the turn of the twentieth that you can even spot – if you have eagle eyes and know what to look for – Anna Bates being given a copy of Elizabeth and Her German Garden in a country lane, in a scene in Downton Abbey.  (Don’t ask me what season; I can’t remember.  But the cover of the first edition is distinctive.)  Elizabeth von Arnim was an Englishwoman who married a German aristocrat, and her “Elizabeth” trilogy (Elizabeth and Her German Garden; The Solitary Summer; and The Adventures of Elizabeth in Rugen) follow the eponymous heroine as she putters about, cursing the inability of the Proper German Woman to get her hands dirty, enjoying the gifts of nature and avoiding her responsibilities.  There are many funny moments, some things that are sad, and a lot of gorgeous nature and garden writing.  If there is anyone to inspire you to go outside and wander around, it’s Elizabeth.  Of course, it helps when you have a massive country estate.

Merry Hall, by Beverly Nichols – Speaking of massive country estates, meet Beverly Nichols – perhaps a rather salty successor to Elizabeth von Arnim.  Merry Hall is the first in a trilogy (followed by Laughter on the Stairs and Sunlight on the Lawn, and what is it with me and lightly fictionalized memoir-ish garden trilogies?) featuring Nichols as he purchases and renovates an old Georgian manor house and surrounding garden, attended reluctantly by the wizened and grumpy head gardener “Oldfield,” his cats “One” and “Four” and a cast of local eccentrics.  There is Miss Emily, who is always flinching and trying to buy vegetables from Nichols’ prolific kitchen garden; Marius, whose chief attribute is erudition; and Our Rose, a famous floral arranger who becomes Nichols’ adversary and bugaboo.  Nichols is at his rapturous best when describing his beloved flowers; his descriptions of lovingly brushing aside fallen leaves to reveal the first snowdrops of spring are gorgeous, for example.  He is definitely a mid-century writer and some of the writing is very much of its time – a.k.a problematic for modern readers.  (I keep considering whether to write a blog post about this sort of thing, and waffling, because I’m not sure I have anything unique to say about it.)  Ultimately, I enjoy Nichols’ voice and his garden writing enough to overcome the occasional jarring note, but the reader should not go in unprepared.

Life in the Garden, by Penelope Lively – For a more modern note, Penelope Lively’s memoir-ish (apparently all three of these themed books are memoir-ish) look back at the gardens of her life is gorgeous.  From the cover art to the beautiful prose – gorgeous.  Lively is a prolific and important writer of fiction (I read her astonishing Booker-winning novel, Moon Tiger, after becoming acquainted with her through this garden book) and she brings a writer’s sensibilities to the plant plot.  Lively writes of her childhood in Egypt, the gardens of her adult years, and the small London establishment of her current golden years, and sprinkles in sections and chapters about gardens in literature.  If you can tear yourself away from the stunning cover, you’ll find much to appreciate in Lively’s writing.

Elizabeth, Beverly and Penelope are definitely inspiring me as I mull over garden plans for my soon-to-be new place.  There’s a lot of potential but also plenty to be done, and where am I going to put the tomatoes?

Are you a gardener, or just a reader of garden writing?

by

It’s Memorial Day! What Are You Reading? (May 25, 2020)

Happy Memorial Day to my American friends – wherever you are, I hope you’re getting some fresh air, some time to connect with family (even virtually) and the chance to let off a little steam.  And of course, a huge THANK YOU to our military families for all of their sacrifices.  This is the home of the free, because of the brave, as we all know so well.  We appreciate you!

Memorial Day weekend is also the unofficial start to summer, of course.  Every year, I waffle between summer and fall as my favorite season.  I love them both, and this is the kickoff to the best half of the year for me.  Allergies are winding down, the heat is cranking up – bring it all on, I say.  I usually like to do something fun to ring in the season, but this year we’re sticking close to home for obvious reasons.  (Although my neighbors heard that I-95 was basically a parking lot, choked with people driving to the beach for the long weekend.)  It was a pretty low-key start to the season for us, and we’re mostly treating today as just another workday (although I think I’m going to take the day mostly off and take the kids off of Steve’s hands – he ran interference for me a lot last week, because I was busy with a court submission, so I’d like to make it up to him).  Anyway!  Saturday was HOT, at least in comparison to the few weeks prior – in the 80s.  We walked down to the waterfront and Steve and the kids played tag in Founders Park for a little while, and then the kids and I spent the afternoon on the patio.  I hate going indoors when it’s nice out!  Sunday was our hiking day.  We stopped off at our new house first, to drop off another trunkload of stuff (seems silly to go empty-handed!) and then explored some of the trails at Lake Fairfax Park.  I spent the rest of the day puttering around the house and got basically nothing done, so I guess that’s a winning Sunday?

Reading.  Another slow reading week, although the three books above make it look like it was a normal-paced stretch.  I finished Merry Hall midweek, then spent the latter half of the week and most of the weekend with The Boy Who Lost Fairyland.  Just one more book to go in the Fairyland series, although I’m reading it so slowly that I’ve mostly forgotten what’s happened so far.  Whoops.  Anyway, finished the weekend with Austentatious: The Evolving World of Jane Austen Fans, a loaner from my friend Susan.

Watching.  Same family watching streak – we’ve finished all of the available episodes of Be Our Chef, and are now waiting for the final two episodes of the season to drop, and we’ve also made our way through all of season six of Rock the Park.  The highlight this week was definitely watching Jack and Colton snorkel with manatees – and now I have a new bucket list item.  (Steve said: “You realize there would be other fish there too, right?”  I told him to shush his face.)

Listening.  A lot of this, for obvious reasons, on repeat:

Moving.  Not much moving this week, either.  (Not much of anything, huh?)  It was a superbusy week on the work front – I had a court submission to file on Friday, and that’s always a bit of a circus.  Most of the planned runs on my training schedule didn’t happen for that reason, which makes me sad.  I am always happier and more energetic and just have more to give when I take that time for myself and get some fresh air via my running shoes.  So I’m going to try to remember that for next week.

Making.  Well, there was a lot of work product!  That’s definitely making something.  And I was proud of what I did at work this week, so that is something.  I also FINISHED the last incomplete family yearbook – 2019.  Look at me go!  Something about dragging pictures around on Shutterfly is very soothing.  And I have big plans for reading through the whole series of my creations as soon as the last two arrive on my doorstep.  So the making was more keyboard-oriented this week, and less kitchen-oriented, although Nugget and I did whip up a strawberry yogurt cake on Saturday morning.  It came out tasting good, but the texture was way off – super dense and unappealing, in my opinion.  The kids disagreed, and they ate it ALL.  So at least it didn’t go to waste!

Blogging.  Got to make sure I get all my May content in, so I’m loading you up this week.  Themed reads on Wednesday – all about gardening life – and then a hiking recap on Friday.  Stop by!

Loving.  On Friday night, I called up my BFF, Rebecca, to chat and catch up since it had been a minute.  I asked her what she was up to, and her response, in a nutshell, was: “Drinking mashed up mango with rum, reading declassified military documents from 1948, and trying to get to the end of TikTok.”  I’m not saying that my bestie is cooler than your bestie, but, well, do the math.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

by

A Day In The Life, COVID-19 Quarantine Edition

Recently, I read a Washington Post article tracking a day in the life of a D.C. family with two working parents and two young kids, as they try to navigate this quarantine.  I almost didn’t finish the article, because it felt so familiar – but at the same time, it was a little bit comforting to see others in the same boat.  We are all dealing with this situation in different ways, and each facing unique challenges, and it occurred to me that it’s been awhile since I did a day in the life post on here.  While I am not sure I’m really going to want to remember all of these details… here they are.

5:55 a.m. I wake up to the sound of the kids’ voices playing either in Nugget’s room or downstairs.  Their “okay to wake” lights flash on at 6:00 a.m., which means they’ve ignored them.  Again.  I’m told these “okay to wake” lights are supposed to be miraculous for keeping kids in bed until they should be up?  Mine couldn’t care less.

6:15 a.m.  I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.  I decide to forego any additional attempts at sleeping in favor of getting up before the kids’ play turns into squabbling and then fighting, so I get up and go looking for them.  They’re in Nugget’s room.  Peanut is chilling in a pile of his “lovies” and he’s jumping on his pillow.  Good morning.  We have another talk about respecting the “okay to wake” lights and then go downstairs to eat breakfast.  I start mixing up morning chocolate milks and taking breakfast orders while the kids dismantle the couch.  EVERY DAY.

6:50 a.m.  I’ve spent the past half hour running back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, bringing the kids their breakfasts as they watch TV and complain about what I’ve given them to eat.  (Stonyfield Kids organic yogurt, yuck-o.)  While they grouchily eat, I clean up the kitchen counter.  I like to work at a makeshift standing desk, but it tends to get heaped up with the daily detritus.  That’s definitely the case today, so I quickly put some things away, then start working on a memo that I really need to get out this morning.  Steve sits down at his laptop and starts work for the day, and I pound away at my keyboard while listening to the kids.

8:40 a.m.  I’m still working on my memo, but it’s almost time to take the kids out for the morning walk.  Steve and I are working in shifts during this quarantine, and I have the kids in the morning while he focuses on work, then we swap.  I still try to stay connected and check in when I can in the mornings, though.

8:55 a.m. The TV is off, and the kids and I both head upstairs and get dressed to go out for a stroll.

9:05 a.m.  And we’re out the door, only five minutes past my goal time!  This is pretty good for us.  (By contrast, the following day we did not get out the door until 9:35 – more than half an hour past the goal time – and only then after a lot of yelling by everyone.)  Nugget asks to walk to the waterfront, but that’s a pretty long stroll for their short legs and we have plans at 10:00 that we have to be home for, so we head for the bike path instead.  We walk to the end of the bike path segment nearest our house, then turn around and head back, with a few long breaks to explore the green space and check out some trees.  On our walk we discuss birds’ nesting habits, and how electricity works.

10:00 a.m.  Back from our walk, right on schedule.  I get Peanut set up with her math workbook and Nugget takes his phonics workbook up to his room.  Our 10:00 plans are a FaceTime play date with his buddy, D, from school.  So while Nugget settles in, I call D’s mom over FaceTime.

We catch up for a few minutes about work – we’re both lawyers, upstate New Yorkers, and Cornell grads, so we have a lot in common and love to chat with each other.  After a minute or two, I turn the phone over to Nugget, and D’s mom hands her phone to him, and the boys start a marathon FaceTime session in which I think they mostly talk over each other and brag about their toys.

Once the boys are set up and chattering away, I head back to the kitchen, where I divide my attention and my time between the memo I’m working on and Peanut’s math workbook.  I help her figure out the equations, then launch her on some word-focused activities (language arts workbook pages, followed by reading time) and keep working on my memo.

11:00 a.m.  I’ve been back down in the kitchen while Nugget is on my phone.  Peanut finished up her math, did some phonics exercises in her BrainQuest workbook, and read a few chapters in her current book (The Mystery of Mr. E, from the American Girl WellieWishers series).  She’s been complaining about being tired – no surprise, since I have no idea how early she got up and started playing; I jokingly offer her some coffee – so after she finishes her work she drifts off to lay down.

Meanwhile, Nugget is still on FaceTime with his pal.  He wants to watch his favorite show – Octonauts – but he doesn’t want to hang up, either.  So he suggests that D can watch Octonauts at the same time.  I don’t think Nugget has ever heard of a “watch party,” so this is just something he thought up on his own.  I’m duly impressed, and D’s mom and I fire up the same episode (The Octonauts and the Cookie Cutter Sharks) and press “play” at the same time.  Nugget settles in on the couch, which still has no cushions.  I don’t see how this can be comfortable, but I guess it is?

11:50 a.m.  Nugget has been on FaceTime for almost two hours.  I’m cutting him off!  We hang up with D and turn off the TV while Dad makes lunch for the kids.  I realize that I forgot to eat breakfast.  Whoops.

12:00 p.m.  I finally got my memo out.  I was hoping to send it before the kids and I left for our morning walk, but that didn’t happen.  But it’s gone now!  It’s been a hectic morning of juggling the kids and work, and I need to blow off some steam.  Steve is taking over with the munchkins, so I hurry upstairs, throw on some running gear, and head out to hit the trail.  Now that it’s finally starting to warm up for the season, running at the hottest part of the day isn’t ideal.  But I’m squeezing it in when I can.  I head for the bike path and bang out a few miles.  The buff makes me feel like I’m being strangled, but I’m being a good citizen and wearing it anyway, pulling it up over my nose and mouth whenever I am near other runners, walkers or cyclists.  The bike path isn’t exactly crowded, but it’s definitely not deserted either.

12:39 p.m.  Back from my run, and back on the computer.  I have a long to-do list for the afternoon, with a few calls sprinkled between a bunch of tasks that I absolutely have to get through.  Steve runs interference for me (taking both kids for walks and facilitating more reading time for Peanut), as I did for him in the morning, and the kids mostly leave me alone.  I buckle down and power through most of my to-do list.  Nugget brings me Bear to say hello.  Peanut copies poems out of a few of her books and reads them to me, falsely claiming to have written them herself.  I gently suggest that we try writing a poem ourselves, but she’s content with plagiarism for now.

4:42 p.m.  Still working on my computer.  Peanut and Nugget wander into the kitchen.  Peanut asks for coffee (what??? – turns out she thought I was serious this morning when I offered to make her some) and Nugget tells me that Dad is napping in his room.  This seems far-fetched to me.  Steve is a napper, but this would be late for him.

4:50 p.m.  Steve comes downstairs.  It turns out he wasn’t napping; I knew it.  I quickly start dinner – putting a pot of red quinoa on to simmer – then get back to work and finish up a few more things before we start eating.  A colleague called while my phone was charging in the other room (Nugget burned through a lot of battery life during his marathon FaceTime play date and Octonauts watch party) so I return the call while fluffing up and seasoning the quinoa.

5:40 p.m.  Dinner is ready, yay!  I haven’t eaten a real meal all day, just grazed a little bit between calls, so I am hungry.  We’re having red quinoa, leftover tofu with taco seasoning, and steamed broccoli.

6:10 p.m.  Dinner went fast – I guess we were all hungry.  I clean up the kitchen, which is fast and easy tonight because Steve emptied the dishwasher and put the breakfast and lunch dishes away this afternoon – so all I have to do is load up the dinner dishes, press a few buttons, and then spritz and wipe the counters and table.  Keeping the kitchen clean has been a bit of a challenge – Steve and I both need to be on top of it – but it is such an important thing for my peace of mind to have a clean (or at least clean-ish) kitchen.

6:22 p.m.  Steve is upstairs helping the kids get into their jammies and brush their teeth before we watch a show as a family.  I should help, but – to quote Phoebe Buffay – “I wish I could, but I don’t want to.”  So I hide in the kitchen sending more work emails and looking for things to clean while I wait for them.  Eventually they come downstairs and we watch an episode of Rock the Park.  Nugget is a big non-fiction guy (books and TV) and he loves nature, so this show is his jam.  (It’s mine and Steve’s, too.  Peanut mostly just tolerates it.)

7:15 p.m.  We’re done with our episode of Rock the Park.  Peanut collects her good-night kisses, then heads to her room to read for awhile.  Nugget and I go upstairs and read his Lonely Planet Kids: USA’s National Parks book.

He wants to goof off and be silly, so I wander off downstairs.  Upstairs, I can hear him jumping on his bed and constructing an “Octopod” out of Legos.  He seems content enough, so I hide in the dining room and work on my 1,000-piece puzzle (almost done!).  Nugget summons me upstairs three times, just so he can tell me to “GO AWAY” each time.  Love you, too, buddy.

8:25 p.m.  Nugget asks me to come upstairs and sit in his chair while he plays.  I grab my book – Merry Hall, by Beverly Nichols – and follow him.  As soon as I sit down, he crawls into my lap with Good Night, New York State.  I read it, then he buries his face in my shoulder and passes out.  I used to rock him to sleep every night, but it’s been a few months since he sacked out in my arms like that.  I love it.

9:00 p.m.  I’ve been rocking and cuddling Nugget for more than half an hour and loving every second of it, but it’s time – so I reluctantly carry him to his bed, tuck him in, and tiptoe downstairs.  Steve is already on the couch playing a video game, so I open my book.  I have a hard time concentrating – it’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be another long day – and my attention flits back and forth between my book and my phone.  I scan Facebook and Instagram a little bit, get distracted by a Financial Times article about the federal government’s bungling of the COVID-19 crisis, go back to my book and eventually wander upstairs to read in bed.

10:13 p.m. I really wanted to finish this chapter, but I can’t keep my eyes open.  Lights out.  Another quarantine day in the books, another one just like it coming tomorrow.

These days are long, and they tend to run together.  We are definitely finding moments of fun and connection – and making them when we can – but there’s a lot of frustration, too.  I like to be present for whatever I am doing in the moment, and it’s hard to toggle my attention between work and the kids so much.  But it’s not possible to keep them separated right now, so I’m just doing the best I can.

How are you weathering these long quarantine days?