Whitney Pier Part Two

Giving Thanks

This year I am thankful for the time and place in which I have come to have this little girl. For the opportunities and experiences that have lead here and that have fulfilled and prepared me as much as possible for the adventure that is parenthood. I am thankful for travel and study and more study and lazy morning and late night debate and seeing things for a second time and second chances and the smell of rain and the sea. For strife and for success and for the so-wonderful people with me through it all. But most of all this year I am thankful for the perspective and determination that all of this and more has helped me to find, that I can draw on in moments of doubt and difficulty, and that likewise adds meaning to our moments of joy, reflection and contentment. 

Formula Fail

New plan: one more day of this formula tomorrow and then a new brand and a new doctor's appointment on Tuesday. 

Seven nights in and she hates it no less. Maybe more. She screams like she's on fire every time her dad goes near her with a bottle. After the first few nights of hell's scorn we read that someone other than the mum should give the bottle if the baby is breast-fed. Poor R. He has lasted much longer than I ever would have - I can hardly stand to be in the same house. 

Tonight we decided to taste the brand the doctor had given us. Not to suggest that all the screaming and crying has been justified but that stuff tastes like borax laced with cheap perfume. We've read a good review of similac (seriously - by a dad who tasted and rated all the formulas) and if that doesn't work we'll try the liquid rather than the powdered mixes. If that doesn't work then this little girl is never going to get on any of the really exciting rides at amusement parks. 

Happy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my top holiday - turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, family and a day for gratitude. And all as the crispness and colours of fall are settling in. We shared a lovely afternoon with super lovely people and will be eating turkey and carrots until passover. 

Highlights in six sentences or less:

1. The first scents of roasting rosemary drifting up the stairs.

2. Not burning the turkey.

3. The warmth of having every window in the house covered in steam.

4. Not discovering that the turkey was still frozen when we went to carve it.

5. Watching the little bug sleep at the end of it all and thinking that my heart might burst.

6. Not having to order pizza because the turkey was burnt or frozen.

F and R headed out first thing this morning in search of coffees. 

F lead the way in this sweet outfit R picked out.

Costume change: another pretty party dress from thirty years past

A Matter of Tradition

I know that Frances Moon is unlikely to remember her first Thanksgiving or Halloween or her first Christmas. Despite the developmental importance of the first three years most people can't recall much about them at all. Still these holidays are our first opportunity to string together those traditions that will mark for her the passage of time and that she will look forward to and fondly back on. An exciting task but also a daunting one!

What if we find ourselves so busy that, despite our best intentions, things like making pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving and sugar cookies at Christmas are left to next year and next year and next? And late night Christmas eve walks in the snow never happen and we're just too tired to carve pumpkins at Halloween? Each one a chance to chip away at some of the nonsense of north american holidays and to claim a small piece of them for ourselves.

Deep breath.

There is comfort in knowing that the traditions that stuck in our house were some combination of intention, routine, and happy accident. And that coerced traditions chalk full of preplanning and precision are bound to last about as long as a Paul Martin government. And that with a lot of love and a little bit of luck we will one day find ourselves celebrating both those rituals devised with intention and those that Frank learns about in school, sees on television or simply thinks up from the depths of her six year old soul.