525 948.766

That's how many minutes there are in a year (according to the Google calculator, NOT according to the song from Rent.) That's how many minutes young Master T has been in our lives. That's how many minutes we've spent falling in love with this little guy who started as an idea, grew in my tummy, and emerged as him - a fully-formed human being with a pretty amazing personality. A little baby who began with scrawny chicken legs and arms and a low voice who is now a funny, babbling, winding and grinding, almost-walking little Boobla.

Each minute that passes makes you marvel at the point you're at now, while simultaneously being wistful for the the baby that was before. We're looking forward to what kind of ridiculousness he's going to spout once he starts talking, but when I hear him babbling away to himself in the back seat I know I'm going to miss the sounds of his nonsensical pre-verbal musings.

This year has been filled with sweetness and light and bitterness and shadow. Last night, when we started reflecting on the magnitude of what this year has meant for us with the Big Yam, we couldn't also help but have a cry about what we lost, too. I'm so very, very sad that Poppa D didn't get to spend T's 1st birthday with us. I know he would have been over-the-moon and would have loved every minute of it and would have been thrilled to be there to spoil him and laugh at his hijinks. We hadn't had a cry like that in a while and we needed it. The one year marker is a significant one and I was struck anew by how many moments and milestones Poppa D wouldn't get to witness. I really wanted T to experience a grandparents sleepover and going to a ball game with his Poppa and seeing his Poppa cheer him on at school plays and sports games. There is so much about this moment that f**king sucks, even as we're celebrating. I has thought that Thanksgiving would be harder, being the first major holiday without Poppa D, but I'm finding that I'm having a much harder time with the Big Yam's birthday.

Here are some photos from the weekend - for Poppa D.

T wearing his birthday crown & tux

T's birthday cake - a classic golden cake with chocolate frosting (which was too sour, but whatever)

The Big Yam's first taste of refined sugar was VERY favourably received

All tuckered out post dim-sum lunch

We spent Sunday afternoon playing kickball and touch football with the cousins - this is a scene from the sidelines.

I don't start work until Thursday, so today I'm spending with Momma D and the Big Yam.

Fin.

BAND CAMP

The Dotytron has abandoned us for the next 3 days for Band Camp which has me super-bummed. Although there's a slight chance that me and the Big Yam might be able to join him up there - which would be THE BEST! It's about an hour and a half away on the banks of Lake Simcoe and I think it would be a nice little fun getaway for the three of us...especially since the Dotytron is already gutted that he's going to be away from us for so long and I'm equally gutted that he's going to be gone for the tail half of the end of my maternity leave.

Dinner on Monday - whole wheat penne with roasted eggplant, roasted garlic, cherry tomatoes, and basil. Also a spoonful of kalamata olive paste thrown in there in lieu of whole smashed olives, which is how I usually make this pasta. We had the roomie over for dinner and served this alongside my current favorite salad - baby arugala with grated parm, dressed with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. So simple but so delicious.

Just waiting to hear back on whether we're going to Band Camp or not...cross your fingers for us! We really really really want to go! But even if we stay, we'll have fun...just not as much.

Fin.

Dialing back

The first weekend of dialing back went well and was very manageable and very fun. I may or may not have just spent the last hour of precious Big Yam nap time poring over the Google Calendar and trying to slot in social commitments, but that's just the nature of our beastly lives at the moment.

Here are some shots from Competitive Backyard BBQ. Incidentally, I won the desserts category!!! Wahoo!!!

S & P did an amazing job - look at all that hay! There was a live band in their backyard and 4 giant tables of food and a Port O Potty and it was so well organized and well run - you couldn't ask for better. It was really fun seeing friends out and about.

Then Dr. Rei, Hanbo, the Dotytron and I booked it home to eat secret ribs that I had smoked in the smoker - look at the pink in that stink! THOSE are ribs, my friends. Dry rubbed in my special blend of herbs and spices, smoked for 3 hours (they could have gone for 1 more hour) and then finished on the grill with my chipotle bbq sauce. Served alongside my award-winning potato salad and with Dr. Rei's coleslaw. That's what I'm talkin' about. Right there. All day. Just me.

Then we played TWO (!!!!!!) games of Settlers of Catan and it was literally the best, ever. I won and Dr. Rei won. Winning Settlers is the best feeling in the world.

Sunday morning we beat the Leslieville lunch rush and showed up at Lady Marmalade RIGHT when they opened and had a leisurely, rainy morning breakfast (me: crepe croque monsieur with poached eggs; the Dotytron: mangob, brie, bacon, eggs benedict). Then we did some erranding and came home to watch the rain from inside, wearing our jammies and slippers.

Our Discerning Coyote friend came by with a lovely card and some delicious oatmeal cookies and I finished the Big Yam's quilt while watching Parks and Recreation on demand. A pretty perfect night if you ask me.

That is, until, I had to put a sleepy, freshly bathed, fleecey-pj'd Big Yam to bed. He was being soooo cute. His Baba would be holding him and when he saw me launched himself out of the Dotytron's arms and wrapped his little arms around my neck and stuck to me the way the octopus sticks to the Professor Frink's face on The Simpsons. Then when it was time to go to bed he was doing his sweet, sweet thing of putting his head to rest on my shoulder and I just got so sad that as I was singing him his bedtime songs I was silently weeping and my salty tears were dripping onto his little duck-fluff head. Then I cried some more in bed. I was crying because he's going to daycare and I have about a week left of maternity leave and I was crying because I thought he was going to forget me and because he was going to miss his afternoon "nai nai" (Cantonese for milk) which he now knows to ask for (accompanied with much tugging at my shirt) and I was crying because I was worried that he would be confused and wonder why we "abandoned" him to Jeannette. TOTALLY TRAGIC.

I've been trying to be a tough guy about going back to work but I'm clearly a wreck. I mean, I AM looking forward to going back to work and putting on real clothes and using that part of my brain and seeing my colleagues, but how am I supposed to leave him every day? How am I supposed to be satisfied with 2 hours with him every night?!? C'est ne pas juste.

Our friend B dropped off wild empire mushrooms his dad foraged in the woods and this morning I sautéed them in butter and mixed them with runny eggs and the Big Yam and I had them with toast. I'm trying to make a conscious effort to savour every moment of this week. My neighbour asked me if I was doing "anything special" with the Big Yam during this week and I was stymied for an answer. I think my approach is going to be to luxuriate in each moment with him and not take on anything crazy; no special, commemorative events or outings, but just make our days and our time together special by being so very conscious of each moment and how much we've grown together this past year.

And...now I'm crying again. What. The. Heck.

Fin.

A new day

A new day has dawned and I'm already feeling lighter (vicious bout of heart burn last night notwithstanding.) After a calming talk with Dr. Rei, the Dotytron, and my sister (my personal life-coaching team), I've divested my schedule of all activities in the near future that feel like an obligation and that feel like they're for someone else instead of me and it's allowing me to breathe a little (a lot) easier.

My neighbour seems to think that I might be hormonal as well - I've been cutting out some of the daytime feeds for the Boobla and he's SUPER-attached to his "naai naai" (Cantonese for milk) so it's been a little hard for the both of us. Although, his second word is "naai naai" so now he has WORDS instead of a word. It's kind of blowing our minds. This is a video of him wearing his tuxedo and harassing Boddington by shouting cat at him in Cantonese:

He's also started doing this thing where he talks to his toys. It's pretty hilarious. He kind of leans in real close and then says, "Buh!" at them. He's also started nodding his head, which leads to all kinds of hilarity. Even though you know he's not REALLY agreeing with what you're saying, the kid has pretty awesome comedic timing.

Our Rosh Hashanah dinner was pretty boss, even if it was just for the three of us in the end. The roast chicken was super-juicy with a delicious crispy skin, I made a wine-based gravy with the pan juices, maple-ginger carrots, noodle kugel with endive and baby spinach (soo good!), and roasted Russian Princess potatoes from our CSA (they're pink fleshed!) For dessert was apple cake with bourbon caramel sauce. It was a big hit all around, I must say. Noodle kugel is sooo freakin' tasty. The recipe that I use mixes egg noodles with eggs, sour cream, cottage cheese, poppy seeds, and I add in sautéed onions and greens - it would be a fantastic vegetarian main dish with a side salad. It's deeply satisfying stuff - especially with the noodles that get all browned on top and crispy.

Today we're spending the morning hanging with Xtina & her baby H, and then we're having dinner with our friends JJ & S at their place and (hopefully) introducing them to the wonders that is Settlers of Catan. Our goal is to get the maximum number of people hooked that we can.

I took myself out of the meat category in the Competitive Backyard BBQ that I'm in participating in tomorrow and just entering the desserts category. I just didn't want to have to stress about smoking ribs for 25 people and fussing with my wood on a cold day. It just didn't seem worth it to me at the time. Tell me if this makes me a bad person. The CBBBQ is being put on by my friend to raise money for a charity that helps people with developmental disabilities start businesses and live independent lives. I'm totally on board with that. Then I found out that some of those people with developmental disabilities were also taking part in the competition and now I feel like they're going to get the pity vote and win and I'm kinda sore about it. Actually, I know it makes me a bad person, I don't need you to tell me. WHY AM I SUCH A BAD PERSON?!?????

I'm going to think on that today.

Fin.

New Year

It's a new year around here, of the Jewish variety. We're having Momma D and the Dotytron's oldest childhood friend over for dinner tonight to celebrate Rosh Hashanah (aka excuse to eat apple cake and noodle kugel night.)

This will be a compendium post of things we've been up to as of late.

I made these corn and feta fritters which were absolutely delicious and so easy. I cut the corn kernals off of 2 ears of corn and set that aside. In a bowl, I mixed together 3 eggs, some baking powder (about a teaspoon), and enough flour to make a thickish pancake batter and then folded in the corn and some crumbled feta. Seasoned the mix with salt and pepper and cooked it on my greased cast iron skillet until browned on both sides. This would also be great with some grated zucchini. It makes a nice accompaniment to soup for a light meal.

The same night that I made the fritters, I trucked my butt (and the Big Yam's) up to North York Central Library for an interview and book signing with the author that kick-started my love for YA - Sarah Dessen. So cool!!! I got a book signed for myself and one for my sister, who is also a super-fan and basically a Chinese Sarah Dessen. To say that the event was an estrogen/hormonal juggernaut would be a gross understatement. There was a lot of brace-face, gaspy, breathy, "Um, I like, just wanted to say, that you're like, my favorite author in the whole like, world" type business happening, with some long-suffering boyfriends and parents thrown into the mix and then me with my baby. It was AWESOME.

We were all coming down with colds last week so I went into Jewish grandma mode and made us chicken matzoh ball soup with loads of crack black pepper and dill. Friday night was a rainy, miserable night that also called for being in our pajamas. Rainy nights that call for being in your pajamas ALSO call for warm cookies, so I whipped up a batch of chocolate coffee toffee brownie cookies. They were a HIT! Only 2 tablespooons of butter in the whole recipe! They're pretty cakey and fudgy and sweet, with the coffee adding a nice hit of depth and undernote of bitterness. I'm going to post the recipe at the end of this post.

Last week I had the brilliant idea that if the Boobla is going to wake us up obscenely early on weekends, then we might as well do something with that time and hit St. Lawrence Market. So on Saturday morning, we packed our butts into the car at 7am and drove to the market and ate a a delicious breakfast of peameal breakfast sammies and snacked on treats from the north farmer's market. It was a pretty inspired plan. Then we came home and napped. When we woke up, I dressed the Big Yam up like a chav:

and had him chill outside with us while I worked on the garden, planting bulbs. Here is the problem with 99% of moms out there - if I were to get some ridiculous gold chains and a fake Gucci hat and dress the Big Yam up as a chav for Halloween, it would TOTALLY go over all their heads. So sad. So many wasted opportunities. I'm thinking that our Twin Peaks inspired costumes are ALSO going to go over all their heads.

Team Cleveland was up for my mom's annual ball so we took them to the Burger's Priest and ordered off the secret menu. I got the High Priest, which is their version of the Big Mac - soooo tasty. Team Cleveland was suitably impressed.

The Dotytron wasn't feeling up to dealing with the ball so he volunteered to babysit the Big Yam and Little Big Cuz, whose name the Dotytron's phone auto corrects to "Marxist" - which is pretty hilarious. I brought the Big Yam down for a bit because I wanted to show him off in his tuxedo - look at how slammin' my mom looks:

Team Cleveland

My family is totally stressing me out right now. We're trying to organize Thanksgiving and trying to include Momma D and Ehmdo but it's complicated by the fact that my mom and Big D are basically shut-in, anti-social hoarding weirdos. Add to that that it's the Big Yam's one year birthday and it's just compounding the stress. I dunno - should I feel bad that I'm not doing a giant theme party for his birthday? I can't handle that. We don't have the space for it and I just don't have it in me to throw that together right now. Plus: HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON! That's how I'm justifying it to myself, anyway.

{time lapse}

Okay. I just had a mental breakdown that involved me throwing papers at the Dotytron and breaking down crying because after trying so hard to make it okay for Momma D and Ehmdo to come to Thanksgiving in the end they're not coming and it turns out that Nany isn't coming to the Big Yam's birthday dim sum lunch and I've had ENOUGH. Enough of doing all this stupid, goddamned organizing to make stuff happen so that everyone can be together. I can't do it. It's stupid and I hate it and I take on too much and it's not worth it. I'm cancelling dinner tonight so that I can do what **I** want, which, in the last 2 weeks of my maternity leave, is to spend time with the Dotytron and the Big Yam and friends and family as long as it is EASY and it's what I want to do and not out of some weird sense of Type A organizational obligation. I've cancelled our dinner guests so that I can feel okay eating dinner in my pajamas and then zoning out in front of the TV with my sewing.

That's my mantra and I'm sticking to it. This will be the finest Rosh Hashanah ever!

Fin.

--------------------------------------------------

Chocolate Coffee Toffee Cookies

6 oz. semi sweet chocolate

2 T. unsalted butter

1 T. instant coffee

1 c. all purpose flour

2 T. unsweetened cocoa powder

1 t. baking powder

1 t. salt

3/4 c. sugar

2 eggs

1 t. vanilla extract

1/2 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips

1/2 c. toffee bits

- preheat oven to 300F

- melt the butter and chocolate together, until smooth

- stir all the dry ingredients together (instant coffee, flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, salt)

- whisk together the sugar with the eggs and vanilla. Stir the liquid ingredients into the chocolate mixture. Stir the dry ingredients into the chocolate mixture.

- stir in the chocolate chips and toffee bits

- scoop out 1/4 c. spoonfuls of batter and bake on parchment or silpat lined baking sheets for about 15-20 minutes until tops are puffy and slightly cracked.

Remembering

Monday started off as a strange, weird day. There was this weird, buzzy, restless, heightened charge to the air that made us kind of tense. I couldn't believe we were having a memorial for Poppa D. It felt like it was for someone else. It still feels like we just haven't seen him for the normal amount of time that we don't see Momma and Poppa D sometimes (a couple of weeks) and that we'll go for dinner in a week or two and he'll still be there.

The memorial was truly beautiful and truly a celebration of his life in a way that people often intend those things to be but they rarely are. Our friends played piano and bass and the room was filled with friends and family, all coming together to pay their respects - there must have been over 150 people there - I can't imagine having touched that many people's lives, myself. The speeches, especially the Dotytron's, Ehmdo's and Momma D's were beautiful and heartfelt and helped to paint a picture of the husband, father, grandfather, outlaw dad, son, brother, friend, colleague that people lost too soon.

I feel like now the hard part begins. The part where we all have to learn to live without Poppa D's gentle, supportive, loving presence in our life. When I think about the loss for the Big Yam and how unaware he is of what he's lost, and how he won't even remember that year he got to spend with his Poppa it makes me cry so hard.

The Dotytron wisely took this week off of work. I'm going to resume regularly scheduled posting tomorrow to bring you all up to speed on what we've been up to as of late.

With you in grief and in joy,

Fin.

Memorial

Today is the memorial service for Poppa D. I can't believe it's happening - that we're actually doing this. Most of the time it feels like we just haven't seen him in a while - like he's gone on vacation and we'll see him in a week's time.

My heart aches for the Dotytron.

Fin.

Spitting image

Everyone always looks at the Big Yam and sees his Asian colouring and how deep and dark his eyes are and remarks on how much he looks like his mama. We've been going through old photos and we came across ones of the young Dotytron and I can totally see so much of him in the Boobla Khan. Some of the expressions are identical to T's. See for yourself:

In the last two weeks the Big Yam has been working on his vocabulary. His one word vocabulary. He knows how to say "miao" (Cantonese for cat) and he spends his mornings as I'm getting his breakfast ready chasing the cats and shouting "miaomiaomiaomiaomiao!" at them. It's pretty cute. I'm trying to teach him other words but no luck so far. This past week I've been leaving him with J, his caregiver, for an hour here and there at the drop-in centre and actually taking off and leaving the premises to get him used to her. He's been fine. Distressingly fine. He's notorious for being pretty independent and an easy, relaxed baby so that's to be expected I guess, but it hurts a teensy bit. Although, he reserves special smiles for me and when I show up to collect him he immediately drops whatever he's doing (gumming something he shouldn't be gumming) and crawls over with a big grin. He's also been a bit clingy afterward but that could also because he's got a cold and he's cutting a new tooth. Who knows.

Last night we had Momma D and Ehmdo over to watch the Big Yam while we played in our first dodgeball game of the season (we got spanked, but that's incidental.) I made us a pretty fantastic dinner - open faced steak melts consisting of: nice bread sliced semi-thick, brushed with roasted garlic oil, and lightly toasted in the oven, topped with smushed roasted garlic cloves, caramelized onion, sliced seared steak, and horseradish cheddar, broiled to melt; sliced tomatoes with salt and pepper; and a mache salad with grated grano padano and a lemon-olive oil dressing.

Fin.

The right way

I keep feeling like there's things that I should be doing during this time. Like I should be crying more or I should be still more or I should not be laughing or making time for friends. It feels wrong that life has resumed a fairly regular rhythm and I feel like I'm being judged for not wearing a mantle of grief all the time.

I know that I'm in shock. It really doesn't feel real. I know that as different significant dates pass (holidays and the like), there will be more grieving to come. Grieving is really a process that's different for everyone...but I can't help feeling guilty. I think that in Western, capitalist-driven culture, we're not really given a lot of time or space to be quite and reflect and be present and still in our emotions. I know that I'm particularly guilty of that in my day-to-day life, whirling from one item on my task list to another. I know that this tendency has been exacerbated by the presence of the Big Yam in my life and his insatiable demands and boundless energy. You kind of have to be an organizational wunderkind when you have a kid if you prize any semblance of order or predictability (and I do, Lord knows I do).

I feel like I'm trying to hold it down so that the Dotytron isn't destabilized too much and by extension so that we can both support Momma D and Ehmdo. I'm feeling numbed by the demands of being normal - with school, the Big Yam, going back to work, keeping a household running.

As Dr. Rei reminded me though - there's multiple ways of grieving and there's no right way. I'm definitely finding it comforting leaning on friends and family. I'm hoping that the Dotytron will be able to take Friday to be quiet and alone and reflective - I'm taking the Big Yam out shopping with Momma D and the Dotytron is taking the day off of work. It will be a good chance for him to be alone - he's rarely alone, with me and Master T and being surrounded by kids all day at work and all. He can think about what he wants to say at the service and just be meditative and live in the moment in his emotions. I'm hoping that I will get the opportunity at a later date to do the same, although I do get to steal an hour here or there - writing this miserable blog is really when I get to do that and I'm grateful to have this as an outlet and grateful that all my readers (yes, all 2 of you) indulge me.

Fin.

Poppa D

To say that we are still in shock from Poppa D's sudden passing is a gross understatement. I can't even begin to express how bitterly unfair it all is and how sad I've been - for the Dotytron, for the Big Yam, and for Momma D, Ehmdo, Nany, the rest of my extended Dotytron family, and finally, for my own loss.

My bio-dad is a diffident robot at the best of times and an outright bastard at the worst of times and it is a testament to what a kind, gentle man that Poppa D was that the love that he engendered in his children, his wife, and his extended network of family and friends could be so uncomplicated and pure. It is the kind of legacy that we can only ever hope for - to be remembered only positively, without asterisks, codas, or qualifiers.

I'm feeling very angry right now. Angry at the injustice of it all. Angry that he would have been such a great, loving, goofy grandfather and that Master T was robbed of the opportunity to learn and grow at his feet, to be exposed to Poppa D's unending love of music specifically and the arts in general. I'm mad that the Big Yam won't ever be able to hear his Poppa play him a song on the mandolin or remember the unending goofy faces that Poppa D could make. I'm especially angry because Poppa D was so excited to be a grandfather and committed himself wholeheartedly to the role. How, even as my own bio-dad willingly estranges himself from me and my life, Poppa D thrilled to every moment. I can still hear the excitement in his voice ("Did you see that?!!!") and how he boasted to anyone in the immediate vicinity when he saw the Boobla crawl over to a chair and pull himself up to standing the first time.

As a product of Westernized-but-still-fairly-Chinese parents, I have never known the depths of parental acceptance and support that Poppa D was capable of. I never heard an unkind or discouraging word. I'm sure that he looked a little askance at the loudmouth brassy girl with a woeful ignorance of the Beatles' catalogue that his son chose for a partner, but I never saw it. He gave his son the best of himself and I will be forever grateful for it.

There are no words to express our collective grief. There are no words to express how the outpouring of support and love from our families and extended family of friends have eased the heaviness of our hearts and provided succor for our pain. This life we eke out for ourselves is filled with moments that will break you a million times over with their beauty and ugliness and it is only through sharing those moments with the relationships that we build, nurture, and sustain that we can bear it.

With a full heart - RIP, Poppa D. Thank you.

Fin.

Fuck Cancer.

Fin.

One month

One month from today, I will be flashing my I.D. card at security and starting back at work. I have mixed emotions about this. Poppa D is quite ill at the moment and I think there will be a lot of additional upheaval in the months to come, in addition to the regular baggage of starting work and dropping off Master T with Jeannette, his daycare provider. He's been taking small separations in a stride. When we see Jeannette at the drop-in centre she takes him off my hands and he's been fine with it. Another caregiver at the drop-in centre calls him Mr. Independent. He's just so chill. He's fine just sitting and hanging out and he doesn't really notice that I'm not within eyesight unless I happen to pass into his field of vision. I'm sure it'll be different once he realizes that this is his new reality, but all told, he really is a very unclingy baby.

Yesterday, in addition to it being the 10th Anniversary of the First Time Americans Realized That Their Foreign Policies Make The Rest Of The World Hate Them, it was the Big Yam's 11 month birthday. How crazy is that? Super crazy, that's what.

Despite the ongoing stress of Poppa D's sickness, we had a pretty good weekend. Dr. Rei came by on Friday and we feasted on pizza pide:

We also had some serious talks and big laughs at the same time. Big laughs about the weird sexual proclivities of one of my exes, which we call "the thing" and periodically, when we're hanging out, Dr. Rei will remember "the thing" and lose her mind. Big laughs about how any time conversation turns to the gifted program, I will sit an quietly whisper "I'm gifted" until someone notices. Big laughs making up lyrics to Chocolate Rain.

How cute are these two? Especially the Big Yam in his striped jim-jams.

Saturday morning we woke up and I made the family a fat baby with cinnamon apples. We did a bunch of errands and the Dotytron spent some time with his da' at the hospital and then we girded our loins to attend our friend L's pig roast. Ummm...pig roasts are amazing. I'm totally all fired up to invest in the pig roast infrastructure. Basically, they cooked a 50lb pig over a split drum charcoal bbq on a big spit. L's friend bought the whole rig for $400 and rents it out for $100 a pop and it's booked solid every weekend!!! Amazing!!! I'm totally going to do that. I was considering doing a pig roast for T's 1st birthday, but with all the stuff happening with work and Poppa D, I figured we'd hold off until next year. Hopefully we can get our yard fenced in and our deck done and then do it up proper. The rig is going to come in handy for lobster fest and pig roasts and lamb roasts and all the rest. Hooooeeeee...I'm already so pumped for this I can't even talk about it.

It was a pretty ideal evening. We didn't think we'd get there in time to even eat the pig (L is notorious for running late) - but the pig was ready for 7:30pm - we got there just after that, ate some pig, visited with peeps, drank some beers that weren't ours, and got home by 9:30pm with our bellies full of pig, and our beers AND our dessert accidentally brought home with us. What what!

Sunday was a damn near perfect day. Ate breakfast, did some reorganizing, labelled a bunch of bins for storage, cleaned and reorganized our vestibule, cleaned up the back deck area, went to the Farmer's Market, took the Big Yam and biked to the Leslie Spit and back, finished quilting my quilt, hung with the neighbours, had the roomie over for dinner, watched an FNL and we were still in bed by 9:30pm. I love those weekends that have that balance of socializing, crossing things off your to-do list, and lots of fun family time.

I made us chicken Milanese for dinner, on top of a salad of arugala tossed with lemon juice, olive oil, and grated parm. Fresh farmer's market corn on the cob on the side.

The Big Yam likes to do this thing with the lid of his silicone storage containers where he holds it in his mouth and he looks like a demented clown. It's pretty hilarious.

We've been listening to this mix that we grabbed off The Rub's page pretty consistently. It's slick. It starts off with some pure early 90s girl group awesomeness, which inspired the Dotytron to ask me, "Who does that 'No Scrubs' song?" "TLC" "...it's a pretty good tune!" DUHHHHH. That is a jam, son! RIP Left-Eye! Then the mix goes into some new stuff and ends with a remix of Prince's 7, which is SOOOO GOOD. Here's a refresher in case you need to remember the original:

The mix has a bit too much Lauryn Hill into Fugees for me, but other than that, it's freakin' amazing. The mix also has Mary J's Real Love, which has inspired me to want to learn how to play it on the piano. HOW AMAZING WOULD THAT BE??? Like, if you could just roll up into any hotel lobby and start banging out Real Love on a baby grand? I feel like my ticket to popularity lies therin.

Fin.

Clear eyes, full heart, can't lose.

Soooooo...you may or may not be aware that for the past month plus, casa Dotytron Lagerfeld has been ALL OVER Friday Night Lights. The show has been getting mad daps from my bible, Entertainment Weekly pretty much since it started, as well as my pop culture early adopter sister (who also hepped me to the Hunger Games) and teen author Sarah Dessen. We were INSTANTLY hooked. One episode in bed and we were hungry for more (Dotytron: "already this show is a million times more interesting than Mad Men") despite initial skepticism about the premise's (football and football culture in small town Texas) appeal to diffident sports watchers like us.

This show is sooooo good! Anchored by Connie Britton and Kyle Chandler's pitch perfect husband and wife relationship as Tami and Eric Taylor, this show is about sports, football, small town America, class, parenting, community, coming-of-age (me watching the opening credits: "It reminds me of Geneseo!" Dotytron: "That's the whole point"). I can't say enough good things about it. It's been criminally neglected by the Emmy's. Tami and Coach have one of the most real, loving, commendable TV relationships I've ever seen and they're given equal prominence. I loves me some Coach Taylor (father figure vacuum filler alert!) The writing (save for an abysmal Season 2 divergence into teen-soap territory that was clearly a misguided attempt by NBC to re-brand and re-market the show to a younger audience), is top notch and the actors really inhabit the characters - they were apparently given a lot of leeway in terms of improvising dialogue as long as they hit major points and the show is shot with a loose improvisational feel that speaks to the fact that the actors didn't rehearse scenes prior to shooting (yes, my fandom has extended to Wikipedia-ing info on the production techniques.)

No one, though, loves it more than the Dotytron. The other day he came up to me and was all like nonchalantly, "So I was looking up East Dillon Lions [one of the teams on the show headed by Coach] gear and I found all this Tim Riggins [the show's requisite troubled-with-a-decent-core brooding bad boy] paraphernalia with his face on it - I think I'm going to get some." LOL! Coach's saying is "clear eyes, full heart, can't lose," and I only recently realized that it was his saying, and not the team's motto. Let me just say that the Dotytron let me have it when he realized that I didn't know. I got a big lecture about how, "NO, YOU IDIOT. IT'S COACH'S SAYING. THAT'S WHY IT'S THE BEST. GOD!" The Dotytron wants to implement something similar for his band program...but it's tough. My suggestion was "tight embouchure, self-whittled reed, can't lose" but it doesn't have quite the same ring.

Coach is the best coach/father/husband EVER. I can't wait until I can tell the Big Yam to "take a knee" whenever I want to impart something serious to him. It's going to be hilarious. Also LOL at my neighbour G who recently posted that Tami has "magic hair" on my Facebook wall when I posted an FNL related status. Tami TOTALLY has magic hair. Look:

TOTAL magic hair. LOL!

Anyway, so our pre-bedtime routine has been to allow ourselves a single, savoured episode of Friday Night Lights. That way we can draw out the experience and make it last. Well, there's that but there's also the fact that we don't have time for more than 45 minutes of TV a day.

Today is more drop-in centre fun times with the Boobla and then hanging with Dr. Rei and Hanbo. The drop-in centre has been hilarious now that the Boobla is older. They were only closed for the summer break but there's been a HUGE leap in the Big Yam's ability to engage and explore the world now that he's so much more mobile and with it. I wasn't looking forward to getting stuck in mom gossip world (I usually spend my time chatting with newcomers to Canada, because I find them nicer and less gossipy) but I'm doing it for the Big Yam and I can tell he's enjoying it. He's super-into tambourines and shakers and drums right now, so yesterday he crawled up to one of those shakers that's shaped like an egg and was starting to shake it and bop around. A slightly older (walking-age) kid came up and grabbed ALL the eggs and it was hilarious to watch the Big Yam's reaction. It's the first time that he's ever had something taken from him by a stranger or a peer. He was kind of struck dumb for a second and then he SCREAMED. He crawled over and tried to grab it and when the kid walked away again he screamed again. It was super cute and funny.

Tonight is FNTON (Friday Night Take Out Night). Not sure what the rest of the crew will want to eat. I'd like to go for pide, which are Turkish pizzas, from our local, Pizza Pide.

Fin.

Step by step style

Step 1: read fashion blogs of regular people (somehow usually Mormons?) with good style on a budget (as opposed to say, fashion blogs for people who worship at the altar of Hedi Slimane)

Step 2: listen carefully when fashion blogger X tells you that a great way to be thrifty and fashionable is to shop in the boys section of your local thrift store and get a boy's blazer there for the perfect shrunken look

Step 3: dutifully go out to Value Village and buy a boy's black blazer for $6.99

Step 4: try on the (itchy, heavily synthetic) blazer at home.

Step 5: realize you look like a new immigrant boy on their way to a classmate's bar mitzvah.

Looking good isn't easy, folks.

Tuesday's whole wheat farfalle with spinach, mushrooms, and gorgonzola cheese

Tonight's dinner of shrimp baked in a garlicky tomato sauce with feta, served with roasted garlic oil croutons and string yellow and purple beans tossed in lemon juice and a bit of butter.

I've been on a tear lately, buying stuff for me, the Dotytron and the Big Yam for back to work/daycare. New shoes, sweaters, baby gates, sleepers - basically digging us ever-deeper into debt. The Big Yam is wearing size 18 month stuff now, without blinking an eye.

Fin.

And we're back...

New school year, new routines, new season - the changeover all happened this weekend and we are in the thick of it now. The to-do list is long, the early mornings and nights are dark, the urge to hibernate is strong. It's going to be hard manning the fort on my own all day. I've gotten used to having that extra set of hands around to relieve me, but I'm resolving to cherish each and every moment of this last month of maternity leave and to make it count.

In 5 days the Boobla will be 11 months old. ELEVEN. MONTHS. OLD. He's been around for almost a full year! How did that happen? Where did the time go? Last night, ensconced in bed at the obscenely early hour of 9pm, there was much weepiness and tearing up and irrational wailing on my part at the prospect of being separated from the little big yam. The standard-issue, clichéd mom-issues of: "what if he loves J [his caregiver] more than me?" "what if he forgets that I'm his mama?" "why didn't I appreciate this year and savour every minute more?" "why did I take this past year for granted?" and other self-flagellating recriminations of the maternal sort. I know it gets easier. I know that there's a part of me that is actually looking forward to resuming the ranks of the full-incomed and professionally attired. For all my excitement about having uninterrupted time to use parts of my brain that have been gathering dust these past 12 months and for all my tough-guy bluster about how I'm looking forward to being an adult again...I know I'm going to be sad and it's going to be hard for the two of us.

Last night we were all eating dinner and the Dotytron kept scolding the Big Yam about not rubbing his eyes when his hands were dirty with food. The Dotytron got increasingly more stern and forceful moving the Boobla's fist away from his eye. After the last exchange, the little Boobla, started moving his fist towards his eye, and then stopped midway, looking at the Dotytron with a slightly scared, watchful expression on his face, all wide-eyed and mouth agape. The Dotytron turned to me and we both went, "awwwww" - it was painfully cute and heartbreaking at the same time. Just seeing it again in my mind's eye is enough to make my insides shut down. The Dotytron felt THE GUILTIEST! He couldn't even finish his dinner sitting next to the Boobla and made me switch seats with him, because every time the Boobla wanted to rub his eye he would stop himself and give the Dotytron that same look. What a good little kidlet! Seriously, it makes me want to cry. I don't think I've felt that mix of sad/cute so acutely before.

On Sunday we went on an epic mission to pick up batting from Fabricland. Never, ever, EVER take the Dotytron with you when you're engaging in a hobby, because he INSTANTLY decides that he's an authority and will take the first piece of advice offered by a clerk at a quilt store (for example) and then treat it as gospel. He was super-adamant that I get 80% cotton, 20% polyester batting and it was annoying-slash-hilarious. The part of Scarborough we were in we dubbed "Little America" because it's an enclave that's all big box stores with a high concentration of US-based ones: a super-giant Wal-Marts, a Lowe's, a Marshall's, Five Guys etc. We went into Marshall's and the Dotytron disappeared for 5 minutes and then came up to me wearing a ridiculous jacket that I didn't notice he had donned until after 3 minutes of conversing. When I finally did notice it, I was doubled over laughing. He thought I was trying to out-straight-face him but it's really because I take his presence for granted. LOL! The Dotytron is THE WORST-slash-the-best person to go to these kinds of stores with. The worst because he's the most impulse-driven shopper I've ever met. It's probably because he NEVER goes shopping or because he always insists that he ABSOLUTELY HAS TO HAVE the most random shiz. Like those salt lamps or a spinning glass orb that emits smoke, or kettle bells:

He's the best because you lose your mind laughing shopping with him.

Shirt c/o Auntie Lolls, shorts c/o Auntie SMckay

Last night for dinner I made us bi bim bap rice with spinach, carrots, zucchini, mushrooms, and bean sprouts (topped with a fried egg, of course) and we grilled up some kalbi (marinated short ribs) that our neighbour's mom gave to us. It was a delicious meal - the kalbi were SO FREAKIN' GOOD! Our neighbour 3 doors down came outside while we were grilling because she could smell the kalbi from her house.

Today we're doing some errands and having pasta with spinach, mushrooms, gorgonzola and fontina for dinner with a salad made of stuff from our CSA.

Fin.

All of the lights

Life insists on going on, seemingly without regard for what I want. Young Master T has his own internal rhythms and expectations that have to be met and so I have to step up to the plate and make sure that his days are full with stimulating new experiences, reassuring old ones, belly laughs, tickles, and big love.

I have a joy-filled kid so far and for that I'm very, very grateful. Yes, he's not so into waving bye-bye or listening when we issue short instructions, but I'm more proud of the fact that the little guy loves dancing. More specifically, he does the dutty wine - the boy's got moooooves. Lots of slow, bass-driven, winding in the lower half region. He doesn't so much dance as groove. It's pretty adorable - the best is that sometimes you'll put a tune, he'll look at you for a couple of seconds, find the rhythm, and then start getting down and it's so endearing.

So is watching the little nut at the wading pool:

For Friday Night Takeout/Eat Out night we went to Paul and Sandy's Real Barbecue out in Etobicoke. It's been getting good reviews from various barbecue aficionados and the positive buzz is well earned. It's a small little joint - with a lone man (obviously Paul) manning the open kitchen and Sandy and some other local yokels doing front of the house. Maybe 20 or so seats in all. They start you off with a complimentary basket of warm, toasted garlic bread drenched in garlic butter:

We were starving so we ordered some fried zucchini sticks (which was totally overkill) - these were delicious and we polished them off (and burned the roofs of our mouths in the process) in about 5 seconds:

For our mains we opted to split the sample platter for 2, which comes with 2 sides (we picked baked beans and potato salad and got an additional side of coleslaw - again in our ignorance, contributing to the gluttony and our eventual acquiescence to the inevitability of leftovers). The red skin potato salad is cool and creamy, and the sample platter is divine. You get a full rack of baby back ribs, brisket, pulled pork, smoked chicken, and smoked meatloaf. Alongside are the house made bbq sauces, one spicy, one not. The brisket and the ribs were perfect - the brisket was so moist and juicy, capped with the thinnest, sheerest layer of melting fat. The ribs were held together by a dark, lacquered barque that yielded at the gentlest pull of your teeth into smoke-ringed, pink shards of tender meat. The pulled pork was so-so, but the meatloaf was divine - oniony ground beef infused with smoky flavour. Normally I'm not a fan of smoked chicken but the spice rub on the skin gave it a savoury crust and Paul is experienced enough that the white meat was supple instead of dry. We can't wait to go back. Dinner for 2 with 1 beer and 1 pop came out to $60, including tax and tip:

Boobla Khan ate generously from our plates - downing brisket, chicken, pork, and lots of baked beans. In the car ride home he experienced his first-ever dance with the 'itis and got right fartsacked:

Poor little Boobla.

Yesterday we did some errands - I worked on my quilt (more on that later) and we took dinner over to Momma and Poppa D's house and had a visit with Ehmdo at the same time. I made a green salad with roasted beets and chevre croutons, polenta lasagna (inspired by a fantastic dish Lolly made at the cottage), and chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches with vanilla ice cream from Ed's Real Scoop. Pretty tasty, all told:

This morning for Sunday breakkie I made us a fat baby and garlic pork breakfast sausages from the Mennonites:

This afternoon we're headed up to Markham to hang with my mom, Poh Poh and my brothers - looking forward to some Chinese eats.

I've been working real hard on my quilt top and quilt back for the last week and finished both yesterday. The front probably took me about a month, off and on - the chevron pattern requires a lot of minute cutting and trimming and sewing. Quilting is fussy work! Way fussier than knitting, which is fairly straightforward - you make a mistake, it's easy to fix and the proportions of the things you're wrestling with are small. Quilting is taking small things, making them bigger, attaching them to other things, trimming that, and piecing things together bit by bit. The quilt back came together a lot easier, but that's because I was kind of winging it. I feel more confident know with being able to wing something - the math involved in quilting damn near kills me, though:

I accidentally attached the last row of blue zig zags upside down. I've since fixed it. Now all I have to do is get batting, make the quilt sandwich, quilt the monster, make binding, and sew it on! Le sigh.

Fin.