Fall Love

I'm typing this on relatively lazy Sunday - finally having some time to do a bit of catch-up after a busy week filled with a bunch of nothing activities.  Something about maternity leave - the days (can) feel like they're 83 hours long (especially when you have stereophonic baby wailing) and yet, I never have enough time.  I have costumes to sew and little wee hats to knit and frequently find myself zonked by around 9pm, without fail.  It's too much for me to even make a phone call and catch up with friends most nights.

This morning though - we've got the furnace on (I finally caved), we have the flannel sheets on the bed and the big comforter out, slippers are on our feet, and I've got a 4-hour spaghetti sauce started on the stove.  Autumn has arrived at Casa Dotytron-Lagerfeld and I couldn't be happier about it.  I'm ready.  Ready to wind down, unplug, curl up, hibernate.  Ready for weekends to consist of less activities, big dinners with family and friends, movie nights.  

Pretty much the only thing left on my fall checklist is a hike through the Don Valley to take in the colours.  I also have a semi-harebrained scheme that I'm going to build some kind of garbage/recycling shed but we'll see whether that actually happens.  

99 Luftballoons ended up being a lot less majestic than I had envisioned - but the Big Yam was still thrilled:

Family Thanksgiving weekend involved three (!) days of turkey, one jacked-up looking Thomas cake (I made Smitten Kitchens apple pie spice cake with cream cheese frosting - it was a fail.  I wouldn't do it again), a viewing of the newest production of Les Misérables, dim sum, and a visit to the pumpkin patch/farm on Monday, that was the stereotypical pumpkin patch experience: corn maze, giant tricycle rides, an obstacle course, feeding goats, etc.

Les Misérables was great.  Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, can ever come close to Colm Wilkinson's genius and embodiment of Jean Valjean, but the current one is really good.  The revised staging is really great - the sets are used to great effect and they do some evocative things with screens and lighting - you can see the smoke moving in the factory chimneys and the wind moving the trees.  Our Eponine is top-notch - a crystal-clear pop voice that nails her big song.  Fantine is a bit weird, and they changed the pacing to speed things up a bit.  Overall, it was a really fun night.

Some pumpkin patch/farm shots:

Cousins!

Squinty pumpkin selection

Last night we had friends over for a film club - we watched Dog Day Afternoon.  Ummm...Sidney Lumet is a freakin' genius.  You CANNOT replicate how amazing 70s American film was.  First of all: shooting on film gives the film, which is already beautiful, an extra warm luminosity.  The daytime sequences glow.  The story is almost too unbelievable to be true.  Al Pacino's character holds up a bank to pay for sex reassignment surgery for Leon, his "wife."  The film rides this incredible line between humour and drama.  It's not a dark comedy.  Instead the film walks this balancing line between being legitimately funny and tense.  They don't make movies like this any more.  It's so anti-establishment.  It thrums with counter-culture zeitgeist.  It also makes you understand how film critics long for the heydey of 70s American cinema.

These two are in cahoots in a big way.

Prof. Gantok's other doppelganger - Boh from Spirited Away

We also had Dr. Rei and Uncle Hanbo over for brunch today.  We had croissant sandwiches with bacon and leek scrambled eggs and they made a pear-blue cheese spinach salad.  We also had monkey bread and then went on a long walk to check out the Leslieville Flea and be surrounded by hipsters over-paying for mason jars and other novelty goods.  It was so much fun:

This pear tart is SO EASY!  You can whip it up anywhere and with almost any fruit.  We first had it at JJ's house for Oktoberfest.  It uses just a few ingredients: butter, oil, sugar, flour, and the end result is fantastic.  Easily made dairy-free too!  I'll post the recipe below.

Leftover turkey and stuffing turned into one of my all-time favorite meals: a hot turkey sandwich with canned gravy.

Fin.

---------------------------------------------------------------------
Easy Pear Tart
serves 8
not adapted in the slightest, from Food52

1 1/2 c. plus 2 T. all purpose flour
3/4 t. salt
3/4 c. plus 1 t. sugar
1/4 c. mild oil (vegetable or canola)
1/4 c. olive oil
2 T. whole milk
2 T. cold unsalted butter
3 bartlett pears (but can also be made with 3-5 peaches, or any similar sized fruit)

- in a bowl, mix together the 1 1/2 c. flour, 1/2 t. of the salt salt, and 1 t. of sugar with a fork.  In a separate measuring cup/bowl, stir together the oils (note: I didn't have enough olive oil so used all canola and it was fine), the milk, and maybe a 1/2 t. of almond extract if you have it (I didn't and it was fine).  Stir the liquids into the dry ingredients and combine until everything is evenly mixed.
- dump this mixture into a 9" diameter tart pan with a removable bottom and press the mixture on the bottom and slightly up the sides of the pan
- in a separate bowl, mix together 3/4 c. of sugar, 2 T. of the flour, and 1/4 t. of salt.  Using your hands, pinch the butter into this mixture until all the butter is in small-ish pieces (as if you're making a crumb/crisp topping).
- slice the fruit of your choosing into 1/2" slice and then arrange on the crust.  Sprinkle with the butter-sugar-flour mixture and bake in a preheated 425F oven for about 35-45 minutes or until golden brown and the top is shiny and bubbly.

3

Somehow, we went from this:

To this:

 

To this:

 To this:

Somewhere along the way, we lost our baby and got this little dude up there above.  He is sweet, he is loving, he is gentle, he is scatolgically inclined, he is funny, he is disarming.  Even as I scroll up and look at those pictures above in the writing of this post, I find that I'm getting a little teary - the usual parent marvelling of where has the time gone, and I can't believe how big he is, and where did my baby go?  Why can't I remember every single minute from the Big Yam's previous 3 years?  If human beings have all this brain capacity that goes to waste and lies fallow, wouldn't every parent in the world be better serviced if we could put that grey matter to use with the ability to recall in perfect detail every moment of our children's lives?  I honestly don't know how we got from that first picture to the last, but I do know that, as Anne Lamott says, children come into our lives and wedge our hearts open.  

The Big Yam has a habit of coming into our room whenever he wakes up enough to be semi-conscious.  It's like there's no hazy, liminal, between-sleep-and-waking space for him, that fog that generally envelops us and coaxes us back to sleep.  No, for him that gentle nudge from sleep signals that he's supposed to clamber out of bed, and slip-slap on his cabbage roll feet down the hall to our room, where he stands by my side of the bed and waits for me to wake, sometimes scaring me half to death in the process.  If I'm slow to wake he'll do an exaggerated pouting, pre-crying hiccup sound, just to hurry things along.  Usually what I do is lead him by the hand back to his bed and lie with him and we both get a few extra hours of sleep.  If it's close enough to waking time and there's not going to be any additional sleep in our future, he'll ask for "covers" and "snuggles" and I'll wrap his cold feet in my hands and we'll "tell secrets" (telling secrets generally means whispering stuff like: "Baba smells like stinky poo" - you know, salacious stuff like that) and talk nonsense and laugh and be silly.  It's in those moments that I can feel my heart unfurling - parts of me opening up and making space in which his him-ness can reside until such day comes when he'll use those very same spaces as collateral for hurting me (or so I think in my darker moments when I contemplate what it means to be a mother to 3 boys who will be inevitably morph into teenage hooligans).  When I think about those future versions of ourselves, I wonder if I'll be able to remember what it felt like to hold his thrumming body under a pile of blankets in the slowly warming grey light of early autumn morning.  If that memory will sustain me when he tries to find his autonomous self and breaks me in the (necessary) process.

I doubt it.  Let's be real: that memory doesn't sustain me now when he goads me into being a ridiculous caricature of parental punitive hysteria.  

But, as in all things, I try.  Now that the Dotytron handles the Wonder Twins during the last feed, for the past 3 months I've been putting the Big Yam down to bed and it's been glorious.  When it all goes right - when we're not running late and we can luxuriate in many, many stories, and ad-hoc games, and bedtime philosophizing - we have time for one of my "fireside chats": where I can take stock and apologize for being a shrieking harridan and we can brainstorm what we can do so that tomorrow might be better.  It's an iterative process and I try to be mindful that to parent is also to give him respect and agency.  Just because I'm technically the grown-up doesn't mean that I don't have to answer for my actions as well.

A snapshot of the Big Yam  at age 3:

On his birthday, over breakfast, I started this new tradition where I ask him a series of "interview" questions and wrote down the answers so that we could compare them over time.   Me: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Big Yam: "BEER!" Me: "You want to be beer when you grow up?" Big Yam: "I want to get beer! 

When he's angling for some iPad time, he likes to ask me: "Mama, are you using with the iPad?" wait for my response, and then ask, "Baba, are you using with the iPad?"  I love the phrasing.

Sometimes we'll be out walking or in the middle of watching TV and he'll turn to me or the Dotytron and say, "I want a hug" and I hope and hope and hope with every fibre of my being when I wrap him up in my arms that he never, ever stops asking.

Sports class is still heart-breaking.  I keep sending the Dotytron sad photos of the Big Yam standing off on his own, with a soccer ball a foot away, doing that kid kicking-at-the-ground thing or that kid stationary-hip-twisting thing while around him the other kids are running around with the balls and throwing and kicking them and going nuts.  We've had three classes and he spends the bulk of them standing off by himself.  It's all I can do not to pull him from the program and get a refund.  I know rationally that it's good for him to do things that challenge him socially and aren't comfortable, but f**k if it's not one of the hardest things I've ever had to see.  That's why I send the Dotytron the photos - I can't bear the burden on my own.  I worry he has problems socializing generally, but I think it's just a comfort and familiarity thing.  He's fine with his cousins and fine with daycare and fine with playing with the kids on the street.  He's just not that kid who goes into a new situation running and screaming with excitement.  Thankfully, he's also not that kid who starts crying and freaking out when you try to drop him off.  But in a way, I think his stoicness in the face of the class is part of what makes it so hard to witness.  I keep asking him and debriefing after the class to find out if he's hating life and just suppressing it, but the reports are pretty matter-of-fact, if not matter-of-fact tinged with a tiny bit of nonchalance.  Maybe I'm just projecting adult anxieties onto him.  It doesn't seem to be affecting him at all, but I am looking forward to the day when he's a bit more of an enthusiastic participator.    

He is currently into: Bob the Builder, Thomas, the Wiggles, watching the odd nature video, playing on our neighbour's riding train toy, poo and pee jokes, playing with his "vehicles" and a huge assortment of stories.  

He's been potty trained as of a month ago.  His daycare provider decided he was ready.  It happened all in a week.  We had still been putting him in cloth diapers or pull-ups and taking him to the bathroom on weekends, but it was fitful and intermittent and half-a**ed on our part, at best.  J had us send him in underwear one week, and by Friday he came home in the same underwear and pants he wore to her that morning.  He had a couple of accidents on Monday and then the rest of the week she managed to bring him to the bathroom in time, even when they went to the drop-in centre.  By the end of the week, he knew to hold it until she brought him.  The following week, she gave him Monday and Tuesday and then stopped bringing him, waiting for him to tell her that he had to go, and he did.  It was a two-week process and rather effortless.  I will say that having him already do the deuces on the potty for so long is an extra bonus in our favour - he's been pooping on the toilet exclusively since he was about a year old or so and telling us since he was 2.  

We've implemented a no-TV, no-iPad on "school" nights routine which seems to work.  Now he asks us if it's a "school night" or the "weekend" and is fine with our answer and will do his own thing.  

His birthday was really nice - cake on the street went well (except for the fact that we sent all the kids home on a sugar high) and some of the neighbours got him small, thoughtful birthday presents.  We celebrated again with the cousins during Thanksgiving and again with Nana and Auntie Ehmdo on Monday.  

Anyway, there's nothing more to say than that I love him to pieces and want him to stay exactly as he is at every moment of his development, forever.

Fin.

Vindicated

...and it feels so good.  I went to the special breastfeeding clinic on Tuesday.  This is one that requires a special doctor's referral - it's not in a hospital, it's a dedicated staffer, etc.  So I go and the lactation specialist asks me a tonne of questions and then is like, "Ummm...I'm not sure why you were referred here?"  She asked how much I pump in a session and when I told her, she said that's a lot.  She said the Great Gazoo's weight gain of 20g/day is really good, considering that usually by this age, their weight gain tends to slow down and taper off.  She said that tandem feeding was fine and didn't really have much to add.  The only suggestion she had was to switch them mid-feed, because that might stimulate a different let down.  

Other than that, it was just sitting and chatting and she had one other handy suggestion, which was that if I'm out and about and want to give them formula because breastfeeding is a pain, that I could give them an avocado instead.  I had thought that Health Canada's guidelines were breastfeed exclusively until at least six months, but apparently the WHO have changed things and are back on the 4 month solid tip.  Basically, they want the babies to get whole food, or anything BUT formula.  

I was also seen by a paediatrician there and she examined both babies and was like, "You're doing great, mum!" I repeated the thing about the Great Gazoo's 5th percentile status and she was like, "So? As long as the growth is consistent and doesn't dip, it doesn't matter - that's just his body type."  Which is totally what I thought!  I mean, yeah, it's concerning that I might have a kid who is going to be runty for his whole life, especially compared to his giant Big Yam brother and comparatively fatso Prof. Gantok twin.  But for now?  His 5th percentile-ness is so darned cute!  Especially when he catches you looking and smiling at him and gives you his gappy, wide-mouthed, tongue-biting shy grin.  Both of the Wonder Twins have such wee little moufs, but when they smile, it goes from ear to ear.

The upshot of all this was: it was reassuring and good to hear and a reminder that I should continue to trust my instincts.  

We are currently preparing operation "99 Luftballons" for the Big Yam's 3rd birthday tomorrow!  Basically, that means we've wrapped his presents and put them downstairs in the living room, which we are going to fill with balloons.  The original plan was to fill his room with balloons, but considering that he gets up at 6am and it's still dark out, the Dotytron (wisely) surmised that stepping on a pile of balloons might be terrifying in the dark.  We went with the: want, need, wear, read style of present-giving.  We've gotten him a Cranky the crane from Thomas from his brothers (want?), and a Toby train (need?), hand-me-down Thomas pajamas (wear), and 3 new books (read, duh).  I had all these high concept plans to take him to the new aquarium that's opening up, but the opening date has been delayed (which makes sense to me.  Remember when you were a kid and brought home a goldfish in a bag and you had to put the bag with the goldfish in it in a bowl of water to acclimate the goldfish to the new environment?  Imagine that with like, sharks and moray eels and stuff!), so I went lower concept.  We're going to his rec sports class and because it's going to be nice outside, we're going to a pirate ship park in the Beach with our neighbours and then coming home for a nap, then his favorite food (Indian).  

We will be seeing both sets of family over the course of Thanksgiving weekend, so tomorrow night it's just us.  I invited all the neighbourhood rugrats for cake outside.  IT'S NOT A PARTY, I stressed loudly.  Since everyone is outside anyway, just singing and cake (the best parts!) and NO PRESENTS (I also stressed loudly).  

I made him a Totoro cake and soot sprite cupcakes in order to feed everyone (with all the usual suspects and their parents on the street - it's upwards of 30 people, total).  Here is the source material:

Totoro

Soot sprites

And here's what I did:

I baked the cake last weekend and froze it.  I made one 8" round and one 10" cake round.  Then this morning, when the cakes were partially defrosted, I used the 10" cake pan to trace and cut a chunk out of the 8" cake to make a place to join the cakes together.  I used the chunk I cut out to make the ears:

Then I tinted a vanilla butter roux frosting with black paste food colouring and outlined the tummy with a piping bag.  I found it easiest to pipe the frosting and then smooth it out with an offset spatula.  I used white chocolate disks for the eyes and black gel decorating icing for the whiskers.  Easy!  The cupcakes were even easier.  I made 2 dozen chocolate cupcakes and made a chocolate frosting.  Spread the frosting on the cupcakes and then dipped them in black sprinkles.  Then stuck two candy eyes on top.  I'm pretty happy with how they turned out!

He won't be in daycare tomorrow so I sent some cupcakes to daycare today for his homies.  Except...he didn't eat the cupcake.  Everyone else went to town and loved up life and the Big Yam ate the candy eyes and wouldn't touch the cupcake.  

I asked him what he wanted for his birthday breakfast tomorrow and he said, "Chinese food" and the Dotytron and I looked askance at each other because he usually hates the food of his people.  Then we were like, "are you sure you want Chinese food?" and without missing a beat he said yes and he wanted the "cake" (this Malaysian sweet steamed cake) he had  had TWO MONTHS AGO.  LOL!  It obviously made an impression.  So funny.

Anyway...99 luftballons are calling!

Fin.

Feast and Famine

Last Thursday I had an epic (solo) 2 hour visit with the paediatrician our family doctor refers us to - he wants us to have a second set of eyes going over the Wonder Twins, to make sure he doesn't miss anything specifically related to their prematurity, especially given all the extra stuff we're dealing with - brain cysts and the like,

It was...tough.  First of all, she started by talking to me about Prof. Gantok's brain cyst, which is still there, unchanged.  According to her - there's nothing to do but adopt a "wait and see" policy and go with early interventions if he starts missing developmental milestones.  However, she did use the phrase, "I mean, a cyst is really just a part where there is no brain."  Umm...excuse me?  Things you never want to hear: that there's a part of your kid's brain that is MISSING.  She did follow up with, "There are some kids that are missing huge chunks of their brain and are fine!"  "We all know we don't need our whole brain!"  I had always understood the cyst to be a fluid-filled pocket...not the ABSENCE OF BRAIN.  Awww, poor little brainless Prof. Gantok.  No wonder he looks so alarmed all the time!  We might get a referral to a paediatric neurologist who won't be able to offer any additional assessment, but might be able to provide information on probabilities and outcomes, based on their research.  Not sure if we're going to go down that route, but it's an option.

So THAT cheery news was followed by a lecture on the Great Gazoo's weight gain, or lack thereof.  He's measuring in the 5th percentile, and that's on the "low birth weight, pre-term infant" growth chart, which adjusts for his prematurity.  Basically, I heard that I was starving my baby, by putting "too many limitations" and not paying attention to his hunger cues.  The limitations she identified were: feeding them on a schedule, feeding them both at the same time, feeding them only one boob each, etc.  It was really demoralizing and I came out of the office and sat in Eddie VAN Halen and cried for 15 minutes.  I think any time you're talking to a mum about feeding her kids, it's going to be taken hard, because you want to do the best for your kids and it's a super-charged topic of conversation.  It's a really sensitive topic on its own.  Add to that a doctor without a great bedside manner, and it all adds up to me feeling like the worst mom ever.  The idea that someone under my roof going hungry?  Basically the antithesis of everything I stand for.  Things got marginally better when, after an hour of giving me the gears about my feeding and referring me to this special breastfeeding clinic (my appointment is tomorrow morning), she came back into the room after leaving and said that she averaged his weight gain on a per day basis between our visits with her and he was actually within the acceptable range (20grams/day).  TOO LITTLE TOO LATE, LADY.  The damage had been done.

After a few days of sitting on this, I feel like I have some better perspective.  I still have to find a style of feeding that's going to work with my life and my schedule, in acknowledgement of the fact that I have another baby and a preschooler at home.  I also feel like we have a control subject (Prof. Gantok) who is thriving under the same circumstances.  I think I'm just going to give them both extra boob whenever possible and as a first line of defence and go from there.  We'll see what I learn tomorrow.

These two!

On Friday, we tempted the Boston Pizza fates and posse'd up and took the family out to eat.  That's right, Friday Night Takeout Night became Friday Night Eatout Night.  We went to a REAL restaurant on a FRIDAY night.  It was kind of a big deal.  I made us reservations at Big Crow, which is a barbecue restaurant owned by Anthony Rose, of my birthday lunch at Rose and Sons, fame.  The concept of Big Crow is like a camp-cookout, or Canadian barbecue.  Not the Southern, low-and-slow, super-smoke stuff...more like grilled things, cooked over a wood fire.  The restaurant is behind Rose and Sons - outside, with big tarps and heaters now that the weather is cooler.  There are hurricane lamps strung from sturdy wooden posts, woolen camp blankets, and big, long, rough hewn wooden communal picnic tables and benches.  Water is poured from plastic Hudson's Bay striped pitchers for that added touch.  The staff is 100% hipster but they were really nice to us, considering out of a table of five, only 2 of us were eating.   Originally the roomie was supposed to join us, but bailed at the very last minute.  We ended up cancelling some of our food because the server gave us the whole, "that's a lot of food for 2 people" line, but after our meal, we could have had the extra dishes, no problem.

SERVERS OF TORONTO: STOP UNDERESTIMATING HOW MUCH I CAN EAT.

Jerk chicken wings - nicely charred with a good amount of spice, and their barbecued bacon, both served with Thuet bread.  

A full rack of ribs with chimichurri, corn salad, the tomato-avocado salad we didn't order but were given accidentally.  Not pictured: the pork'n'beans and the ketchup chips (out of a bag) that the Big Yam hogged.

Overall, the portions were decent, the food was tasty, and the atmosphere fun and lowkey.  The music got really loud and the babies cried a bit, but it was worth it to feel like, IT CAN BE DONE (it's important for me to feel like IT CAN BE DONE.  Otherwise, I would go insane and would stop having babies.)  I didn't love the chimichurri on the ribs, and the food could be priced a touch lower, but I'd go back, and this time, ORDER ALL THE FOOD I WANT TO EAT.  

On Sunday we went to JJ & S's house for another themed dinner with the Discerning Coyote and those guys.  The theme was "Oktoberfest" - so what you see pictured above is pork schnitzel, carrots, vinegared cucumber, my German potato salad, my braised cabbage & apples with bacon, and the pièce de resistance, the Discerning Coyote's schweinshaxe - basically, German porchetta - a loin wrapped in a belly, slow-cooked with bubbly crackling.   I wish I felt comfortable telling you how much I ate...but it's pretty gross.  Let's just say it was a two-Tums night.  They also made this awesome sugary, sweet, delicate pear tart.  I love those guys.  They do life right.

We followed it up with Oktoberfest round two on Sunday - featuring sausages from a local butcher and leftover sides.

We continued the Eastern European theme tonight with beet/cabbage borscht, and toasted rye with liverwurst and pickled herring.

Friday was the first "Sports Pack" class for the Big Yam.  I knew it was drop-off, but for some reason, I thought there'd be an observation chamber or that parents would be able to sit in the gym.  But no, I left him there and they closed the door.  He's so tall, but he's one the youngest kids in the class (I had to get an age exemption to get him in because you're supposed to be 3 before the class starts).  It was a little heart-breaking...they closed the door and I saw him standing off by himself, just watching.  I got teary - first day of kindergarten is going to be a write off.  The other kids in the class were more rambunctious and instantly grabbed other kids hands and sat in the circle, but not the Big Yam.  He's so cautious and wary and this was his first time - I can't get that image of him standing by himself out of my head!  When I came back at the end of class they were playing "red light, green light" and he was so tentative again.  My heart - how am I supposed to stand it?

We also signed him up for 15 minute private swim lessons through the City.  The idea is that even though the lessons are short, they learn a s**t ton because they're not sharing 1 teacher with 5 other kids and only getting 5 minutes of actual swim time.  It was kind of hilarious.  He went with the teacher right away - no tears, no looking back, and he was hilarious.  At one point, from the observation deck, the teacher was pulling the Big Yam on a flutter board through the water and I could hear the Big Yam ask, "Where are we going?" LOL.  The Dotytron and I died laughing.

Guess who is (are?) four months old, today:

Their 4 month shot

At 3 months.  I think I must be terrible at taking these month-to-month comparison shots because I can't see a difference???  

Finally, Auntie Em took family photos of us on Sunday and I requested an additional headshot for my LinkedIn account.  These are the outtakes - aka, the shots I'm going to use if I ever become a real estate agent or need a headshot to advertise for a DeVry commercial:

Never not funny.

Fin.

Hodgepodge

Things the Big Yam is afraid of:

- a Richard Scarry dog with an eye patch on
- Dora the Explorer when she's dressed as a witch:

- the troll from the Halloween episode of Dora (the dude on the right):

- when Thomas the steam engine crashes into a pile of rocks.

LOL!  Lately, when stuff has been scaring him while he watches a show, he runs into the kitchen for the scary party.  Last night, we were watching the Halloween episode of Dora where the troll (pictured above) shows up and the Big Yam ran into the kitchen so the Dotytron was like, "What are you doing in there?" and the Big Yam was so scared he jumped when he heard the Dotytron's voice.  Poor little bubby!  What a scaredy cat.

Last night we were looking after our neighbour's daughter.  She stayed over quite late so while I was changing her and the Big Yam into their pajamas, the Big Yam asked (when the neighbour was in her skivvies), "Mama, what does ___ have on her...on her...on her down side?" (he got this out while jumping up and down on his bed).  Me: "___ has a vagina."  "A MAH-JINA?!?" *explodes in laughter at the ridiculousness of it all*

In other news, there's this girl I'm kind of internet friends with who, after the Wonder Twins were born, sent me this message that was part congratulatory and part-warning that they had wanted to name their (soon-to-be-born) baby, Prof. Gantok's given name.  The tenor of the message was slightly panicky and I emailed her back telling her that it's all good, there's no such thing as name stealing, I wouldn't think twice, etc.  Cut to four months later.  Her baby is born and named Prof. Gantok's given name.  Today, I randomly tweeted about how it grinds me that someone in our neighbourhood copied our wifi network name.  AND GUESS WHO CAME OUT OF THE WOODWORK?!?  She tweeted back something that to me, seems to either consciously or unconsciously speak to anxiety about the baby name thing.  It was weird!!!  And kind of hilarious.  This is what parenting has become in the modern age, people.  Individual name anxiety and competition through the vehicle of passive aggressive tweets:

My thoughts exactly, Prof. Gantok.

In other news, Dr. Rei linked me to this not-so-blind item, which documents this girl's terrible date with a thinly disguised Canadian celebrity, who everyone knows is Jian Ghomeshi.  Now, the girl lays it on all kinds of thick and is a terrible writer.  She really milks a pretty minimal situation for all it's worth.  I'm a pretty active Jian hater, but even I felt sorry for the guy.  Other than getting inappropriately handsy (and I in no way condone dudes getting handsy - DUDES, DON'T GET HANDSY.  IT'S GROSS AND YOU'RE CRUISIN' FOR A BRUISIN').  But the best (the best!) part is when she lets him down and he (allegedly) sends her this text: “Eeep! Totes diff. vibe from yest.”  LOL x a billion.  "Eeep! Totes diff. vibe from yest." will never not be funny and I've basically been using it in every situation.  I'm surprised that there isn't a twitter handle with that name, who only tweets those words at Jian all day, every day.

This weekend was nice.  I spent all day Saturday with Dr. Rei and we cruised the Queen West strip and had an epic, leisurely stroll and chat where we saw the world - friends from Kdubs! Fourtet's sister! A bunch of other peeps!  It was so nice and so needed.  Completely recharged me.  Then on Sunday, Momma D hosted a "meet the Wonder Twins" party at her casa for the Dotytron's side of the family.  There were 3 different kinds of cake:

My sentiments exactly, the Great Gazoo.

On Saturday I didn't feel like cooking after an epic day out, so we ordered takeout from Tabule, this newish Middle Eastern restaurant that opened up in our 'hood.  The food was on the pricey side for that kind of cuisine - we got the beef/lamb kefta, the chicken shish taouk, and a fattoush salad (love me a fattoush salad), but the portions were larger and it was tasty.  It's a nice addition to the 'hood - the flavour profiles are more refined than say, our Afghani kebab place, but it's a little expensive to be put in the regular Friday Night Takeout Night rotation.

I'm trying to be less of a fat little weirdo, which means we've been eating big salads.  This was sooo good.  My take on a Waldorf: shredded kale as a base, with chunks of barbecue dry-rubbed roasted chicken, apples, celery, halved grapes, red onion, and toasted pecans, dressed in a buttermilk-maple dill dressing.  So good!  So crunchy, sweet, salty, and satisfying.  I love me a big salad.

We continued the big salads on Monday with taco salad: seasoned chicken/beef mix piled on top of more shredded kale and iceberg lettuce, with freshly fried corn tortilla strips, tomatillo salsa, guacamole, sour cream, a bit of shredded cheddar, and chopped tomatoes.  So good.

Last night in defiance of the weather I made us a squash and pear soup with cheddar sage biscuits.  It did not go over well with the neighbour's kid.  

Tonight we tried Gelato Pizza - I had to pick up the Big Yam from daycare and we went on a long walk to meet the Dotytron at his massage appointment.  It was close by.  I was prepared to hate but it was aight.  Thick-crusted and like a tastier Pizza Pizza alternative (Pizza Pizza is garbage, I know).  I'm not trying to damn with faint praise.  This was decent.  I might like it better than delivery Pizza Nova?  Time will tell.

This week has been kind of mental so far.  I have to get the babies' blood work done and went to a clinic my doctor had recommended, but they turned me away!  They said I should go to Sick Kids' because they're better equipped to handle getting blood from babies this young.  For some reason, I thought it was going to be a heel prick, like they do in the hospital, but it's not!!!  They actually have to use the little tourniquets and find their little veins!!! UGH.  Don't want to have to watch that.  It's going to be hell.  I recruited my mum to go with me.  Anyway, tomorrow I have two different appointments for the little booblas.  Oy.  It never ends. 

On the plus side, there's this:

He looks so much like my mum, here!  

These two.

Fin.

Never Sorry

I went to see Ai Weiwei last weekend with some of the ladies on my street.  We had watched the documentary, Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry a while back and he's the current international darling of the contemporary art world.

To be honest, I wasn't a fan of the documentary - I thought it was weirdly fawning and it certainly didn't make you like Ai Weiwei.  He's a big cheater!  His real wife shows up for like, 2 minutes, or just long enough to basically say that they have a strong relationship (but in a weird way - this is before the revelation that he has a child with another woman comes out, so at the time as the viewer you're like, "well, that's a weird way of putting it, but okay, I guess?") and then you find out that he has a kid with another woman.  Ai Weiwei comes across like a bit of a breakcore child - like, someone who is kind of bratty and childish and ego-driven.  I get what he's doing and that China's government is corrupt, blah blah blah.  From the documentary, I thought the cleverest thing he was doing was "hiding in plain sight" as an artist - like using the tools of social media to effectively make himself so visible that he is beyond the reach of the Chinese authorities.  The film doesn't focus too much on his body of work and so I went into the exhibit not expecting much.

I was floored.  

The work is extraordinary.  It is evocative, accessible, and beautiful.  I get why he's such a successful contemporary artist.  There's nothing esoteric in the work - it's very easy to "read" and what it has to say about history, about the Cultural Revolution, about China, about unity, about nationhood, is incredible.  He has a piece where tonnes and tonnes of twisted rebar pulled from the aftermath of a devastating Shenzhen earthquake (where he alleges shoddy construction is responsible for the deaths of upwards of 5000 school children) was meticulously and laboriously straightened and then turned into an undulating sculpture.  He rescued old wood and uses Chinese techniques of wood joining to produce pieces that are modern, tactile, aesthetically pleasing, and speak to the effects of Mao's cultural revolution.

Moon chests - you can see all the phases of the moon as you walk between them.  One of my favorite pieces in the exhibit.

I loved it.  So maybe he is an enfant terrible (my mum called him "sensationalist") - the point is...he makes good art.  All that being said, you know what the documentary I want to see is?  I want to see something where they take apart the relationship between an artist's "helpers" and the artist.  Like, who REALLY comes up with the ideas?  I get that Ai Weiwei is obviously not going to physically put together all the work, but I have a sneaking suspicion that all the ideas don't come from him.  Like, I think that up and coming artists apprentice under him and probably shape pieces and are willing to forgo their name on the piece in exchange for access to some of Ai's connections.  It has to be that way, it's just not made explicit.  So, I bet you Ai is like, "I want to make something out of this old wood" but does he have a say in what the piece actually looks like in the end?  Do they show him iterations and he's like, "yes, yes, more like that, no, no, go to hell, dear god, no!"?  I'd love to see something that peels back the layers on that - I think it would be fascinating.

On the wall of the gift shop.  Super tacky, AGO!  C'mon!  Also: the gift shop is filled with terrible, Orientalist bullroar.  Not impressed.

After the exhibit the ladies and I went to Kinton Ramen.  It was good.  Not as good as my beloved Sansotei, though (what could be?)  I still have to try Santouka and then I will feel like my Toronto ramen comparative analysis will be complete.

Okay guys, yesterday, halmeoni (Korean grandma) came over and CLEANED MY FLOORS BY HAND. I have never felt happier/more guilty in my life.  She is AMAZING.  She came over and cleaned my kitchen, cleaned the kitchen floors, cleaned our hardwood, washed down our stairs, and went to town on our enclosed porch and everything is sparkling and I don't know what to do with myself!  She was like, "I'm not going to tidy, just dust" and I was like, practically prostrating myself before her, saying, "HALMEONI CAN DO WHATEVER HALMEONI WANTS!"  I don't know how I'm going to repay her.  My neighbour had told me that she likes folding laundry, so I had some baskets of laundry and tentatively suggested when she arrived that she might want to do that.  But halmeoni kind of looked at them sideways and never mentioned it and so I was like, "Halmeoni can do whatever halmeoni wants!"  LOL.  I want to repay her somehow, even though she has explicitly said that if I ever try to give her money she'll stop coming over.  I know she goes to church so maybe I can make a donation to her church?  Help me think of something, people!

I live on the best street.  My neighbour won tickets to a Thomas movie screening and said that her husband would take their daughter, and she'd give the extra set of tickets to the Dotytron and the Big Yam.  I was like, "Are you sure there aren't other Thomas-obsessed people in your life you could give the tickets to?" and she was like, "I think the Big Yam has earned this."  LOL!  Being obsessed with Thomas is his defining characteristic (and Totoro).  So they went to the theatre down town on Saturday morning.  I thought it was just a movie, but OH NO.  THOMAS WAS THERE. SO WAS SIR TOPHAM HAT.  They got crowns and there were all these train tables set up for the kids to play with and it was being filmed by Mattel apparently and they came home with swag bags with the DVD for the movie, a picture book, a train, a crown, and Thomas toothpaste (also: a "Thomas and Friends Yearbook" that was basically a Thomas the Bay Christmas catalog of Thomas gear that I promptly hid in the recycling bin).  It was so mint!  His first movie-going experience really set the bar high.

I took the babies to lunch at my neighbour's house yesterday.  Three of us have overlapping maternity leaves so we're going to try to do a weekly thing.  This week was kind of buckshot.  It has been visits every day so I think I need to dial back the maternity leave socializing.  It's just too hard to stay on top of life stuff if I go out every day.  On Tuesday I went on a 3 hour walk and it broke me.  I try to keep the Great Gazoo off the back of his head, so when I walk, I tend to wear him and push Prof. Gantok in the stroller.  I definitely gave myself some epic shin splints and back spasms after doing the death march.  I'm going to limit myself in the future.

Then, the funnest thing ever - SMckay came over to cut my hair and for a sleepover!  I love friend sleepovers!  I miss having a roomie.  I'm just meant to live with other people.  I like it so much.

Yesterday I kept the Big Yam at home with me.  We went to an indoor trampoline fantasy land that holds toddler-only times.  Ummm...BEST EIGHT DOLLARS OF MY LIFE.  It was amazing.  They have 4 or 5 different areas where the floors and sides are trampolines and the kids go buck.  The only reason I have time to blog today is because I got myself some guaranteed nap time out of it.  It was so cute.  I can't even tell you how much fun the Big Yam had.  It was all I could do not to join him - but to avoid the "popcorn effect" (their words...is that universal trampoline terminology?) they group people on the tramps by size, so only littles are allowed.  Parents and grown-ups have to stand on the walkways between the trampolines.

The babies wearing their Werner Herzog and Frank Zappa onesies.  So scary!  

We have hit a wondrous, wondrous milestone with the Wonder Twins - we have smiles!  And cooing!  Prof. Gantok especially, will happily lie on the back and squawk and air punch and spin his arms like a little spastic automaton after a feed.  The Great Gazoo likes to be held upright and mimics sticking out his tongue when you do it, often followed by a big, gappy, open mouthed smile that totally transforms his face.  Love it.  Love this age!

All three of my kids have killer, resolve-buckling pouts.  The roomie was holding The Great Gazoo one time and he was just lying in her arms, his lower lip protruding and she was like, "WHAT IS THAT FACE?!?"  Haha - if she was his mama there isn't anything he wouldn't get with that pout. Luckily, I'm made of stronger stuff.  She has tofu construction!

This week has been horrible for cooking, but here's what we've been eating, lately:

Breaded, pan-fried cod, homemade tartar sauce, kale salad

A Russian feast, courtesy of a Yummy Market run - perogies, salad Olivier (basically, a mayo-based potato salad with chunks of bologna), pickled herring on buttered rye, pickles, dilled beet salad, and Dotytron's special beer braised sausages with sauerkraut

I made a bourbon peach jam and have been obsessed with it slathered on everything.  I put a vanilla bean in and the bourbon gives the jam full-bodied floral, honeyed notes.  This is a farm breakfast of biscuits, jam, and hard boiled eggs.

Nicoise salad with seared salmon - loaded with vegetables from the CSA

The Big Yam is a big salmon fan, so we eat it alot for our seafood meals - salmon burgers with more tartar sauce

Grilled barbecue rubbed chicken, with my favorite grilled peach, halloumi, and baby arugula salad

This past Tuesday I made soupe au pistou, which is like French minestrone.  A pistou is a lighter take on pesto - pounded basil leaves with olive oil, garlic, and parmesan, but without nuts.  It really elevates the whole soup, which is loaded with vegetables and beans and zucchini.  To go along with it, I made us paninis with mortadella and robiola cheese, apparently a pretty classic combination.  Robiola is a soft cheese made with goat, sheep, and cow's milk.  Like a funky barnyard brie.  Combined with mortadella it is DIVINE.  I couldn't believe how long I've been living without this combination in my life.

When you look back, it appears as though I've been eating healthy, but what's not pictured is the 12 cookies I'm closing each night with.

Fin.