Heli-Mama Drama

Had my first run-in with a real live helicopter mom the other day—kind of blew me away. I had met this woman at library story time last year. She’s about my age, has a daughter a few months younger than Coco and lives fairly close, and we had taken a couple of walks with the girls. Anyway, I suppose you could say we didn’t really click: I found her intelligent but somewhat humorless and a little odd. She probably felt the lack of click as well, and we stopped seeking each other out after a couple of meet ups. We’d still run into each other from time to time and were on fairly friendly (but not warm) terms. Before last week, I hadn’t seen her in months.

So, I took both kids over to the community center for an open gym session. It was full of toddlers, some of whom we knew, and we were having a great time. Then this woman showed up with her daughter. I should note that this kid is almost two, but I’ve never heard her say a word or seen her interact with other children. Anyway, I immediately got a weird vibe from the mom and noticed that she was acting strangely, hovering over her kid and shielding her whenever Coco was even remotely close, as if my toddler was some kind of rabid animal. I (probably mistakenly) chose not to say anything.

Then, just as we were getting ready to leave, she came over to me and said:
“I’m uncomfortable being around Coco because the last time we were together, she elbowed X.”

Now, the last time I remember seeing these people was at a children’s concert at the end of last year, and I have absolutely no recollection of any kind of incident taking place. I don’t even recall Coco being anywhere near her kid. And this woman did not mention anything about an “elbowing” at the time.

I told her I thought she was overreacting, overprotecting her child and that she had a few things to learn about how toddlers interact, upon which she started acting all hurt and shocked that I would say something like that to her.

Anyway, I kinda lost it. I was just unbelievably irritated that someone would freak out over something like that, not say anything at the time and bring it up months later. Now, as I have mentioned previously in this space, Coco did go through a phase where she was a bit aggressive, but she seems to be pretty much over it. She’s a lively, curious and most of all very friendly kid. I really think this mother, with her disengaged little treasure, has no clue.

Honestly, I don’t even remember most of what I said to her, but I don’t think I used any profanities (I hope not since the CC is kind of sacred ground for us). She immediately started whining to the other parents, while I told her I’d be happy to keep my kid away from hers and stormed out. I admit I could have handled the whole thing a little bit more calmly. I suppose I can blame it on overcaffeination and the glazed doughnut I had (inexplicably, uncharacteristically) purchased from 7-11 just before. Anyway, it’s a small town, and I hope I’m not gonna get a rep as a psycho over this. But really, who cares if a couple of uptight mommies think I’m nuts. I have finally developed a pretty good network of people around here who accept me and my kids. And I had to speak my mind.

Just another vignette from the sordid world of the SAHM. Stay tuned…

The Big Thaw

Well, the meringue on the cupcake that is Lovetown is slowly melting. There are finally blue skies and patches of grass in view (though we still have 2+ feet in places). I know the dirt is drinking it up, and I’m dreaming of the amazing garden we’ll have in a few short months (mmm kale…). It’s a good thing because I’m pretty sure the shades of gray and white have been driving us insane. In an effort to break the monotony, big daddy climbed out on the snow-covered roof and put up a little digital antenna so I can watch some of the eternally unsettling (but fascinating) men’s figure skating and all the other wild action in Vancouver. Our TV free days are now (at least temporarily) over and I’m suffering from Olympic narcolepsy which I’ve been self medicating with drastic overcaffeination.

Have managed a couple of much needed escapes from the ice planet this week: a trip into DC to see my sis and her girls on prez day and a fun mini-campout with my friend Carla and her little muffin (and Coco’s BFF) Isabel in a neighboring village. Hank and Papa had taken my vehicle (and my keys) to dig out the grandparents, so the girls came to pick up Co and me in their Subaru. We adore them both (Co occasionally likes to pretend that Carla is her real mother). Anyway, a morning playdate turned into an all day adventure when, having been driven home for naptime, I realized I had locked myself out of the house. We scooted back to Carla’s, put Isabel down for a nap (Co was too excited about the situation to sleep), loaded up the woodstove and opened a bottle of wine (it was after 5 in Paris…). Soooo groovy. Coco was an angel, thrilled to be able to play unimpeded with her friend’s toys. The mamas kicked back and had some meaningful conversation with PBS in the background.

Always nice to have a heart to heart with another thinking person who sometimes feels her brain is turning to mush. And Carla’s my soul sister in a lot of ways. She’s another Blue Ridge native who fled to city life, only to return last year with husband and daughter looking for the roots of home. I like that she talks to her child and mine like the real human beings that they are. I like that she walks the line between crunchy and conventional in the same way I do. I like that she’s a loving but imperfect mother who is devoted to her child but up front about needing space for herself. And that she’s trying to figure out what to do next. Who knows what’s in store for us, but we’re making big plans for the best summer ever…

Deep Freeze Memories

Well, things are finally moving forward once again here on planet Hoth. For a while there, I was pretty sure we were stuck in a time warp. Thank goodness for FB or I swear I would have lost track entirely. Fortunately they have those little event reminders so I didn’t miss the ever lovin’s mini-milestone birthday last week. I whipped up an unbelievable chocolate glazed hazelnut mousse cake in honor of the occasion. That thing had been staring at me from the cover of an old copy of Gourmet magazine for years, and I decided the time had come to make it a reality. It turned out heavenly but I won’t be posting pix because it did not look nearly as good as it tasted (I still have, it would seem, a few things to learn about ganache…).

We finally got out on Sunday thanks, once again, to our neighbor Steve. The day before, I had to trudge through 4 ft of snow to the end of the driveway where I had my mother pick me up and take me into civilization for some provisions. Had to haul the groceries back to the house on a plastic toboggan. Meanwhile, all the playground mommies on facebook (including me) were in a tizzy bc the Supertarget in Loserburg was closed for several days because of snow on the roof.

Anyway, we are out for now, Henry’s finally back in school and things are getting back to semi-normal (which is really as close as we get around here). In a few weeks the whole thing will seem like a crazy dream. Spring will be here and we’ll be hitting playgrounds and point to points. We’ll get some lettuce in the ground. There will be nothing left of this crazy winter except some good stories and sweet memories of Hank in polar explorer mode and Coco, looking like a sausage in her snowsuit, having fallen in the snow and gotten stuck on her back like a beetle. I admit I let her hang out like that for a few extra seconds because it was so damn cute.

The Snowy Day

They’re calling this one Snoverkill: our third (or is it the fourth, I can’t even remember…) winter storm in the past week. The forecast involves a little less accumulation this time, but it’s way more raucous than the last one--crazy winds and whiteout conditions. They’re even telling all the snowplow drivers to pull over. Miraculously, we still have power (hence this post), but I’m waiting for the curtain to fall at any moment.

Spent the morning doing some food prep just in case. I’ve always preferred gas cooking—I like the responsiveness and the reduced likelihood of turning on the wrong burner (which is a little issue of mine). And being able to cook w/o electricity is a no brainer, no? Unfortunately, we’re among the brainless…

Mercifully, the kids and I finally got out yesterday in the all too brief window between having our driveway cleared and the onset of the current snowstorm. We had a sanity-saving meetup with friends at the community center in Lovetown and went to the local pizza place for lunch. Was wonderful to have a little non-family human interaction and comforting to know that my exurban sisters are suffering along with me. One woman, whose spouse is an essential federal employee and was planning to spend the night in a hotel closer to his office, was talking about throwing her three kids in the minivan and driving to South Carolina. I think we talked her out of it, but it sounded like a pretty good plan on a certain level.

Was pretty proud of myself for remaining mellow during the last storm, but this one has me in kind of a tizzy. This is probably because we are so totally unprepared. I’ve been begging the Ever Lovin’ to collect some firewood and find our bloody camping stove (neither of which he has done). So we’d be just a little screwed if we lost power. C was doing some work out of town yesterday so I put in a request that he stop at my favorite crunchy co-op for some healthy fixins. They had closed the place up by the time he got there so he had to stop at the stinky Superfresh in a nearby town, which is very likely the worst grocery store on the planet (okay, second worst if that A&P is still open on Annunciation Street in NO). I refuse to even go in there after several dismal shopping experiences (more on that, lucky readers, in a future post). So he showed up at 10 pm with hormone treated hamburger and no tahini. He did, very thoughtfully, get chocolate which was some consolation.

Anyway, just heard that NYC, which totally missed out on Snowpocalypse, is slated for at least a foot in this round. My dear friend (and former Upper, Upper East Side roomie) Eileen posted a super cute pic on FB of her toddler looking out the window at the snow falling in Queens. She got me thinking about what may be the most perfect children’s book ever: Ezra Jack Keats’s The Snowy Day. We happened to pick up a volume of Keats’s collected work the last time we were at the library and have been enjoying the further adventures of Peter and getting to know some of his other wonderful characters. I didn’t know anything about Keats (except that I loved his work) before I took a look at the bio notes in this book. I always envisioned the author as some kind of Morgan Freeman-esque sage, but it turns out he was a Jewish guy from Brooklyn. Anyway, he’s brilliant.

And here’s my favorite nursery rhyme in this kind of weather:

The North wind doth blow and we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then, poor thing?
He'll sit in a barn and keep himself warm
and hide his head under his wing, poor thing.

Haven’t seen any robins around here lately, but we’ve got a bunch of buzzards that like to hang out on top of our barn. Stay warm guys!

Digging Out

The good news is we’re officially dug out (thanks to our awesome neighbor Steve and his bobcat). The bad news is they’re now calling for another foot of snow tomorrow night. Good lord…this really is unbelievable. I mean we are below the Mason Dixon line…

So, I’m coming to terms with the prospect of no school for the rest of the week and more family togetherness than I can handle. Christian has gone out to help a friend get his plow going and to get me some more provisions. We’ve been doing surprisingly well, all things considered. During the last big snow (right before Christmas) the old man and I were at each other’s throats. This, I think, was mostly because of my stress at not being prepared for the holidays and Christian’s relaxed attitude about household chores. The Ever Lovin’, I should say, is totally in his element in situations like this. He’d be perfectly happy playing guitar and surfing the net all day. I, on the other hand, start going crazy after a day or so. Had to go out yesterday and dig a path to nowhere, just to get some fresh air and exercise…

Anyway, things are definitely going a little more smoothly this time. C has been helping out: making breakfast, changing diapers, building some cool model race cars with Hank and taking him out for some tunnel digging etc.


And I’m doing my best to keep my expectations on the low side. We’re throwing some rules out the window (sugar, videos—bring em on).
We’ve had some good meals, made some Valentine sugar cookies and had more than a few laughs. I’ve been posting in this space, doing some yoga, facebooking, and, yes, reading War & Peace. More on that later…

Saints and Snowflakes

Coping with the aftermath of Snowpocalypse here at the funny farm. It was pretty hairy there for a while but the lights stayed on, and now we’ve got three feet of snow. I know that some of my Midwest/international readership fails to understand what all the fuss is about. But seriously, I’ve lived in the mid-Atlantic for most of my adult life and have never seen a snow situation quite on this level. A few have come close (we seem to get a couple of big ones every decade or so). But this one really takes the cake. It’s too deep to really enjoy at this point. Hank’s been enjoying jumping off the porch into the fluff, and he and his Papa are digging a network of tunnels next to the house. But there hasn’t been any sledding or snowballing going on since it’s too deep to walk around in. In times like this, I really wish we had a neighborhood. I’ve been talking to my sis in DC who seems to be having a blast hanging out with the neighbors and enjoying some good old fashioned snowstorm camaraderie. Meanwhile, out here in the sticks, we’re even more isolated than usual (not that the old man isn’t good company). I’ve been fantasizing about buying a pair of cross country skis and shooshing into town…

Anyway, it’s kinda gorgeous but we are totally stuck. Our neighbor has yet to appear with his magical Bobcat so we are not going anywhere (not that we really have anywhere to go). I had a fabulous weekend planned (yoga happy hour w/Jess, local theater w/ the Ever Lovin’ and a superbowl party with friends). Everything’s been canned of course. I’m a little disappointed not to be able to watch the game (as some of you may recall, we don’t have TV reception). I’m not much of a football fan, but as a former New Orleanian, I’m sorry I won’t get to watch the Saints take it all the way. I may be snowbound in Lovetown but (at least for tonight) my heart’s in the Big Easy.

A Few Deep Breaths

I’ve been back to my yoga practice for three weeks now and just don’t know how I could have been away so long. It’s been keeping me sane through the crazy winter weather we’ve been having in our little corner of the Blue Ridge. (We had two mini-snowstorms last week and we’re now bracing for another two-footer). I’m starting out with a basic program from the Sivananda guide, which covers the essential asanas. I have to say I had forgotten how amazing it feels to spend a few minutes upside down every day…

I’ve had an on-again/off-again relationship with yoga for …whoa...almost 20 years. I started practicing in New Orleans in my early 20s. I had graduated from college and was hanging around the Crescent City living with a musician in a boho flat on lower Magazine, waiting tables at a trendy French restau and trying to figure out what to do with my life. The BF and I were looking for some kind of joint activity and found the treasure that is Alvina’s yoga studio on Oak Street (uptown-one of my very favorite streets in the world). I worked evenings so I bought a monthly pass and went to class almost every day. I remember Alvina as an amazing teacher and an amazing presence. According to her website, she has now set up a studio in San Miguel de Allende Mexico. Of course, I am now fantasizing about going down there for a retreat…

Anyway, I eventually decided to take off for Paris, where I led a very un-yogic existence and, sadly, did not practice at all. After Paris had worn me out, I came back to Virginia for a couple years and found another great teacher, Denise. But I abandoned my practice once again when I got restless and moved to NYC. Five years later when Christian convinced me to move back to VA, one of the first things I did was sign up for classes with Denise. I eventually got a job at the French Embassy in DC. Hated the job and the commute but loved the rockin’ yoga classes with Alex at lunchtime several times a week. I practiced regularly during and between both pregnancies but kinda let things kind of fizzle again after Co was born. By that time, I had quit working, and the economic slowdown hit us big time, and we started cutting out luxuries. My yoga and tennis classes went the way of our Netflix subscription (sniff). I occasionally practiced at home, but eventually succumbed to inertia and stopped altogether.

Then a little bitty glimmer of light appeared: my friend Jess (whom I had met in one of Denise’s classes) and I found out about a free yoga happy hour offered by one of the newer studios in the area. One Friday a month, they offer an hour of yoga followed by wine and cheese. We like to joke that our guru would not approve of the post-yoga alcohol consumption (booze is considered tamasic, meaning that it saps your energy, clouds reasoning and creates dark emotions and is pretty much a no-no) but we have a blast. The teachers are pretty good at this place…and did I mention it’s free?

But it became clear to me that once a month is just not enough. So I’ve been unrolling my sticky mat early in the morning or during quiet time in the afternoon. I’m pretty rusty but getting back into the swing of things. One of the important concepts in yoga is that you’re not supposed to judge other people (which I’m pretty good at). You are also not supposed to judge yourself (which I’m pretty bad at). So I’ll go ahead and say that my wheel pose, in particular, is pretty feeble. I was always a champion back bender. I’ve always used it as an expression of joy and used to do it as a party trick (it’s been a while). But these days it’s a struggle to push myself up and can only hold for a few seconds til my arms give out. Determined to keep practicing til it feels the way it used to (or something like the way it used to). So, look for me to start doing backbends on the playground this spring...