Baby #2 is joining the party in April, and we couldn't be more excited!
Kim from Time Bandit Photography took some beautiful photos of our family at the end of my first trimester (I'll be 18 weeks along tomorrow).
I'm feeling better now than I was in the beginning, but still wouldn't turn down a nap!
We can't wait for this new baby to join us and complete our family.
My dress [af link]
Miles's Big Brother t-shirt [af link]
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Winter is coming. And it may be a difficult one, made so by the virus's ever-increasing rates that necessitate continued social distancing to protect ourselves and our communities – not to mention holidays that will look very different from years past. Shorter days bring their own challenges, and combined this year with possible quarantines, I want to be proactive about planning now for a winter season that will lend itself to as much gentle rest and affirming work as possible.
Aiming to both cross longstanding to-do's off my list and to set positive habits now, here are a few things I've done or plan to do to preserve more time and peace in the months to come:
One more thing that has been bringing me joy has been taking care of our home; meaning sweeping, doing dishes, putting toys away, cleaning the stovetop. (No one's more surprised by this than me!) After hours spent at a computer, taking care of physical, tactile tasks is a balm and helps me feel so pleasantly productive.
Others are sharing winter coping strategies, too. A Cup of Jo lists ways to cultivate cheerfulness; the Washington Post takes a more clinical track on ideas to cope with the intersection of pandemic depression and seasonal affective disorder; the Postmodern Homemaker's guide to preparing your home for winter of two years ago is not 2020-specific, but important (and probably satisfying to complete) nonetheless.
What can you start doing now to make this coming winter easier and, dare I say, joyful?
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I know your and your family's minds and hearts have probably been busy lately tackling this work, but I wanted to share some resources I've read and listened to over the past few weeks. This short list is obviously by no means exhaustive, but will hopefully one or two will be useful additions to your antiracism toolbox.
And listen. This work is far from done, and it's important that those doing it not burn out. Try planning to spend 20 minutes every day to read a book or article, listen to a podcast episode, or call a politician. Just one thing, every day.
PODCASTS
1619
Unruffled episode: "Raising Antiracist Children"
Life Kit Parenting episode: "Talking Race with Young Children"
ARTICLES/ESSAYS
America is On Fire
For Our White Friends Desiring to Be Allies
Antiracism Resources for White People
BOOKS
Talking About Race: Books for Kids Age 0-3
How to Be an Antiracist
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In addition to things like creating (and sticking to) a family routine, lots of FaceTiming with relatives and friends, and spending time outside every day, here are eight very specific things that are making quarantine with our 2 1/2-year-old easier.
Mac Barnett reading books on Instagram. Mac has written some of our all-time favorite children's books, and Miles loves watching him read them on Instagram. (Silly hats required.) It feels a little like more forgivable screen time, and we'll usually watch Mac read one or two while Kristie is getting lunch ready.
Sneaking chocolate. (For the moms, not Miles.) We've always kept a pretty robust stash of dark chocolate in a high cupboard in the kitchen, but in quarantine life it's grown substantially. We sneak with abandon. Those tiny treats (and tiny breaks) make me feel so good.
Toy rotation. I love this a lot. Once or twice a week I'll do a quick sweep of the house while Miles is sleeping, and bring down to the basement whatever toys have fallen out of favor lately. I'll bring up one or two that he's forgotten about while I'm at it, and when he wakes up and rediscovers them, it's often like getting new toys! We did this recently with his wooden train tracks, and he's been rocking independent play with them since.
Family Folk on Spotify. Having music on makes everything better (and helps us avoid turning on a screen when that's something we're aiming for) -- but there are only so many times I can listen to the Frozen II soundtrack. I recently found the Family Folk radio station on Spotify, and we love it. I don't even mind continuing to listen by myself once Miles has wandered with Kristie out to the backyard.
Involving Miles in chores. Does it take approximately thirty times longer to fold laundry, do dishes, or sweep the floor when a toddler is "helping"? Yep. But what else do we have to do? Miles likes helping, and we're teaching him how to take care of his own home someday. Plus I can get household things done (slowly) while hanging with him.
Art walls. Starting in March when daycare closed, we began hanging up in our living room almost every piece of art Miles has created while home with us. Now we have two full walls (floor to ceiling) decorated with his artwork. It's not the decor I might have chosen during simpler times, but he's so proud to see his work, and really enjoys helping to hang up new paintings or drawings.
Invitations to play. I get so much delicious satisfaction out of setting up "invitations to play" while M naps. Admittedly I did this more often when the weather was cooler; now that it's so lovely I feel less pressure to keep him engaged indoors. I turn to Pinterest and Instagram for inspiration for crafts, handwriting exercises, and sensory bin ideas. Again, I do this mostly because it fills my cup. Miles does like them, and sometimes will get really engaged and play for a good while, but more often than not he'll give the activity a few minutes and then move on.
Throwing shit in water. This is our time-tested, tried-and-true, always-wins activity. Whatever the weather, whatever his mood, if we take Miles to a body of water (even a big puddle) and provide a little bundle of sticks or pile of rocks, he's happy. For a loooong time.
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Experienced and written before the advent of social distancing.
I should have said: you're doing this right.
I should have said: you should be proud.
I should have said: thank you.
There aren't many children over the age of five who are willing to entertain the company of a two-year-old, much less to play with him, and much, much less to do so with a two-year-old who can be perceived as quiet and reserved at first. To put in the work to engage with him. To ask him questions and invite him into their fort.
This kid did.
I had carted Miles to an indoor playground for an afternoon of energy expulsion, following a skipped nap and shortened tempers for us both. (I wrote a bit more about that here.) I tried my best to sit back while he ventured toward groups of other children. It's been a challenge: letting him explore without me hovering, though I hope he knows I'm always ready to have his back. Forever. It's an exercise in self restraint to cede control to him.
Kids were building with Imagination Playground blocks, building and rebuilding an amazing edifice and then choosing whom to allow in, and from whom the construction must be defended. The creativity and imagination at work was beautiful. Miles and I perched ourselves nearby and watched. He crept ever closer to the action, and I leaned in and said to the kids gathered, "This is Miles," then beat a hasty retreat (while remaining in earshot – he's two and a half, after all).
Their ringleader was a boy of about 12 (assuming on both counts). "Hi Miles," he said, and then held out a hand to help my son crawl into the fort.
Without hesitation, without thought, my child was included.
From what I gathered, their building was a castle, under enthusiastic fictional attack from the 12-year-old's sister. Other children, new to the play, suggested excluding others. "No," the older boy corrected them time and again, "everyone can come in."
This pre-teen paid attention to my son, making sure Miles wasn't being trampled by larger peers. He and my quiet, thoughtful son passed bean bags back and forth between each other, the older child encouraging mine in play. When he was ready, Miles climbed back out of the castle and toward my lap, having had his fill of the at-times raucous play with the group of children who were, as a whole, older than him. Instead we pursued other activities, like running in circles together and sharing a smoothie.
I saw the older kid's parents – the grown-ups I assume were his parents – as we were layering to leave. I should tell them, I thought to myself. I should tell them what a good person they're raising. I should tell them he is a good boy, who showed such tenderness and openness to my son. I should tell them I hope Miles grows up to be the same kind of person.
I didn't say anything; though the trip to the park had been healing, it had been a tough day (see aforementioned skipped nap), and we were ready to go home. But it's stuck with me, obviously. Their child's kindness struck me dumb. It was the outcome I always hope for as a mother, when my child toddles toward a social group, attempts connection and play.
I'm so glad there are young people like this kid out there. Goodness and kindness are growing, and I'm grateful for it.
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As a social media manager, I keep a personal Facebook profile in order to manage the pages under my purview (as well as this blog's!), and for one other reason: groups.
I'm a member of a few different Facebook groups that I love and check in on every day:
If the Buy Nothing Project is new to you, I'm excited to be the one to make the introductions. It's a network of hyper-local gift economies that use Facebook as a platform – and I love it. In the group, members post one of two ways:
Other members leave comments on the post either offering to fulfill the poster's request, or stating their interest in picking up the offer. The original poster picks a recipient and then communicates with them via private message to coordinate gifting of the item. Sometimes gifts of time or service are also offered. And that's the best part – everything offered in the group is free. No money, no trades, no bartering.
If you were to come to our front porch on an average day, you'd see all kinds of things sitting out on the bench waiting to be picked up and taken to their new homes. We've benefited so much from this group; not only do people come and take the things we don't want or use anymore (for free), keeping them out of a landfill in a lot of cases, but we've picked up some beloved toys, books, and more! Just off the top of my head: a jogging stroller, a rocking toy that looks like a cow (it lives on the front porch; see above!), a magnetic doodle board, a tricycle, lots of hand-me-downs for Miles, a sweater for me, dollhouse furniture, and a Kelty hiking backpack.
I love feeling like I'm saving something from being thrown away – and obviously saving money doesn't hurt either! This Facebook group, and the others to which I belong, also help me feel connected to community. That's a really good feeling.
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I'm laughing a bit to myself, trying to think of a way to explain this: I've always felt that the months of the year begin to weigh more starting around September. In my mind, they must be heavier because if you stacked them, these would be closest to the ground, pushed down all the more by those gone by. Because they're so heavy, they rush past. Days and weeks begin to unspool so quickly, it feels hard sometimes to get a meaningful grip on them.
This August and September, loss after loss tumbled through our lives. We're still rocked by a wake of sadness after having to make the impossible decision to put our dog Samson to sleep – I'm astonished at the brutality of how quickly life can change in two hours – bookended by added challenges like illness and surgery, anxiety and deadlines.
I've always liked the term "circle the wagons" – problematic though its roots in western expansion are. But that's essentially what we've been doing since the last time I was here. The wolves have visited our door more than once in the recent weeks, and we're doing our best to protect our home while meeting them headlong. I find great strength imagining myself straddling the dark and light, defending my family from the newest emergency that has slinked through the shadows to our doorstep. In that way I've been feeling oddly empowered. I'm getting tired, though, and find myself searching hungrily for signs that we're almost through the gauntlet (we are).
I'll be back soon. I have some knitting to show you, and who knows, I might bake more French macarons before the snow comes. In the meantime, I've been posting with more regularity on Instagram. We'll catch up soon.
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Thank you First Alert for sponsoring this post. Plan, practice, and repeat your escape plan with First Alert!
Six years ago, in February, it snowed.
It snowed so terribly much that our home in western Massachusetts lost power. We had no electricity and no heat, and couldn't cook. The heavy snowfall had incapacitated cell towers and wifi, so we couldn't communicate with any of our family or friends, including my parents, who live in CT and who'd no doubt been hit hard, too.
On day three, Kristie and I packed our shivering dog into the car and drove south. Even though the roads had been cleared, much of our region was still without power. It was the most eerie feeling in the world to drive along a highway unlit by street lamps as the sun set. Radio DJs listed over and over the locations of places that did have power, or at least heat, where people could go to warm up.
We kept driving, and ended up pulling into my parents' driveway after dark. Their windows were all dark as well, except for a flicker in the living room. Not having been able to communicate beforehand, we had no idea if they were faring better than we, and they didn't know to expect us.
Needless to say, we were all happy to see one another. As it happened, they were in the same boat, having lost power and heat. My childhood home has a fireplace in the living room, however, where my father had stoked a fire and my mother had hung sheets over the doorways to keep the heat in. We stayed in there under blankets most of the night, cooking toast over the fire. The next day our neighbor texted to say that the heat and power was back at our home, as was cell service, so we drove back (and happily were able to extend the same hospitality to my parents since their electricity hadn't yet returned).
It was the biggest storm I can remember – or at least the one that made the biggest impact on our lives. Since then, Kristie and I have been thinking more about the importance of planning for emergencies, especially now that we have Miles. And of course not just snowy emergencies, although that particular memory looms large.
Before that storm, we didn't have a snow emergency plan. And I feel embarrassed to say that before now, we didn't have a fire emergency plan. But I'm so glad that we didn't have to experience it first this time before sitting down to review the layout of each room, plot escape routes, and decide on a meeting place a safe distance from the house.
Thanks to First Alert, we were able to make our home safer and actually make an escape plan. We installed a new smoke detector, set up a smoke/carbon monoxide detector, placed a new fire extinguisher in the kitchen, practiced using an escape ladder, sketched the layout of our home, and even practiced getting the dog and baby together and walking to our safe meeting spot.
You can download the escape planning sheet for free if you want to create a plan, too. The most important thing is to create your plan and practice it again and again, especially involving any children who live with you. (43% of homeowners have an emergency escape plan, and only 33% have discussed fire safety with their children.) That's the message First Alert shares: Plan. Practice. Repeat.
It's important to have an emergency escape plan, of course, but there are protections you can install ahead of time that can alert you and your family if something is amiss. The National Fire Protection Association recommends installing smoke alarms on every level of your home, including the basement, and inside and outside each sleeping area. Carbon monoxide alarms should be on every level, including the basement and near each sleeping area. Test your alarms regularly, keep a fire extinguisher on each level of your home, and get an emergency escape ladder if you have more than one story.
It feels so good to have this plan in place to protect our family. The next time it snows hard, we'll know what to do. And if there's ever a fire or carbon monoxide emergency in our home, we'll know what to do (though hopefully we'll never need to!).
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Originally posted on Instagram
How to support someone who’s getting an abortion:
Do any or all of these things. Most importantly, keep checking in and asking what they need. (And remember it’s okay if that changes from one minute to the next.) Offer them love and support and acceptance and try your best to create peace.
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Hi, I'm Hannah (she/her): Wife to a wife, mama to two little boys, feminist, hobby knitter/DIYer, learning to be antiracist.
