isolated

"Mommy's so sad."

No kidding. I've been feeling isolated for weeks. About a month ago, C had emergency surgery, which meant he couldn't bike in to work for a couple weeks, the consequence of which being that I was stuck home without a car unless I cared to waste an hour between two round trips of carpooling. Only a couple days after he resumed biking, he got a flat tire. Eliza and I walked the bike to the shop that day to have it fixed. Just two days after that, he crashed his bike into a parked car, mangling the front fork. "Didn't I just see you?" the bike shop employee asked. Unfortunately, this wasn't as easily fixed as a popped tire. I just got word that the special-ordered part would take a couple weeks to arrive.

For now, I have the car since C is out of town on business this week. I would much rather have him around than the car, but it's going to be hard being housebound these next two weeks. I guess I had better take advantage of having the car until he comes home.

Maybe we'll go to the Thursday playgroup tomorrow. I really miss them, but they're meeting so far from my house this week, and I'd feel like a shlub burning up that much gas. But since I haven't been in a month now, and our next opportunity won't be until after Pesach, I just might do it.

As if the bike/car woes weren't enough, this afternoon Miss Eliza thought my cell phone needed a bath. I sent an e-mail to C, who told me to take out the battery and let it dry overnight before trying to use the phone (I don't hold out much hope).

So next week, we're home alone with no car and no phone. When it rains it pours.

early spring in the garden

After ten days, the oregano is still alive. Barely. It's actual several oregano plants. The one on the right looks like it's going to make it, but the wilted sad-sack on the left . . . probably not. On a lark, I sprinkled what little Rescue Remedy I had left near the roots on the right side of the plant. Coincidence?

The neighbors' nanny informs me they're hiring someone to completely redo their patio garden in anticipation of putting up the house for sale and plan to completely uproot the large, thriving rosemary bush. The nanny told them she had a feeling I would be thrilled to give it a home. She asked if I had room. "I'll make room." I have a single bare patch of soil that might be large enough; it will be the Eliyahu HaNavi seat of the garden.

Speaking of herbs, I bought two organic seed packets from the co-op: thyme and sweet basil. I managed to keep half an oregano planting alive for ten days - who's cocky now? My brown thumb has managed to kill these same plants before. But the way I see it at the moment, what have I to lose besides the four bucks it cost to buy the seeds? My botanical ego is already so bruised from years of failures it couldn't get any worse. I have a game plan this time. I'm going to wait another month until the weather really warms up, and I'm going to put a copper ring around the seedlings to keep the snails away.

I'm so ready for spring. It's a wee bit chilly today with blustering winds, but once it settles into spring for good, Eliza and I will resume our afternoon tea tradition at the patio garden table (the dining room table inside doesn't have the same charm).

Finally, my hybrid tea roses have buds! As much as I swoon over roses in bloom, there's something so perfect about tender crimson leaves. I've been thinking for weeks now that the jasmine would beat the roses to bloom, but now I'm not so sure. I have a soft spot for jasmine. What's not to love about a plant that grows lushly despite the fact that I never touch it (aha, maybe that's its secret to success). I don't even water it - it's on a drip irrigation system that delivers water next to the roots at night to converse water. I wish the roses were that easy.

sissy mama

I'm afraid of snails. There - I've said it. They're not as scary as horses, but still. The buggers have been noshing on the lowest rose leaves, and still I can't bring myself to relocate them to the palm tree because one might accidentally touch me. *gasp*

Yesterday, we spent more than an hour weeding our little garden. I decided the clover needed to go. The pretty yellow flowers and okra-shaped pods were adorable, but alas, the cause of their spreading like wildfire. Eliza is a most enthusiastic weed puller! Finally, she has a positive outlet for her destructive tendencies. I have to go back to tease out the roots, of course, but I'm glad she was entertained.

Much to my relief, she will ask if a patch of something is a weed before pulling it. She pointed to my newly-planted oregano:

E: That's a weed?
S: No, sweetie, that's oregano.
E: We make the tea wit' owegano?
S: Those aren't tea leaves. We use those for cooking.

That's my girl! Already she has her priorities right: proper tea is from loose leaves, not bags. I can't say oregano tea sounds appetizing, but Chris thought it probably looked to her like my Emerald Lily green tea (pre-rolling).

brown thumb

I just planted it, and already the oregano's days are numbered. Not one single plant I've put in the ground has lived longer than a few weeks. My humble patio garden contains a half dozen hybrid tea rose bushes, a "tree" in each corner (oleander and bird-of-paradise), inviting jasmine, and a wall of lush creeping fig. All of those were here when we moved in almost three years ago. The sweet alyssa I used as a groundcover between the roses died within a few weeks (I know it's just an annual - but come on - a few months would have been nice). The Mediterranean herbs I planted in a cedar box died before they even reached six inches tall. The coleus was eaten by snails. The heliotrope was scorched soon after planting by 100+ degree head one horrendous April day. You know you're in trouble when a sun-loving plant dies from too much sun.

But hope springs eternal in the human breast, or so Alexander Pope tells me. We were visiting next door today, and the neighbors' nanny and I got to talking about gardening. Oregano, rosemary, and spearmint were thriving (in fact, the spearmint was thriving a bit too much, but I guess they never heard the recommendation to pot it separately because of its invasiveness). Then I find out the neighbors never use any herbs from their patio garden. They rip out oregano when it starts to get out of control, then drive down the street to buy oregano at the supermarket! The nanny proceeded to rip out some oregano and throw it over my fence, telling me to plant it as soon as I get home. Well, what else was I supposed to do? I could compost it or plant it - either way it will end up as organic fertilizer.

I had never tried to plant anything in that stretch of dirt. Chris had ripped out a thriving fennel plant when we first moved in (although I can't recall why), but perhaps he wouldn't have done that if he'd have known about the curse of the brown thumb. Anyway, I must have hauled away at least 20 pounds of clay and roots. I suspect the thin roots are from the uninvited clover that has been growing in my garden. I let it be because it was making dainty yellow flowers, and finally, I had ground cover between my roses. I filled in the space with the last of my organic soil, moistened it thoroughly, and crossed my fingers I'd have better luck with this plant.

Little does it know it just met its doom.

food frisbee

Today has been trying. Between suffering a 7-hour-long headache* and being woken up at 5 a.m., it's astounding I didn't lose my cool. At a meeting/potluck today, Eliza threw an unprovoked fit, grabbing my plate and throwing it on the carpet. I clenched my jaw and squeezed my hands, allowing myself a minute to cool down before I snapped. It's bad enough when she throws food at home, but this happened on someone else's carpet with a half dozen witnesses watching as I spent 10 minutes picking currants out of the carpet and mopping up cashew butter. "Let's clean up," I said, but Eliza (who is usually quite willing to help these days) would have none of it.

She wasn't upset after she threw the food. "Huh? How'd that get there?" her expression seemed to say. I wish I knew what brought it on.

* More on that in a later post.

she turns her talents to baking

We baked yet another batch of whole grain muffins this morning. Our last batch was "Carrot-Raisin Muffins" from Vegan with a Vengeance, and all three of us were so impressed that I can't wait to try all of Isa's muffin recipes. This morning, we made "The Best Pumpkin Muffins" with the walnut variation (they're cooling now). I altered the recipe by using agave nectar because I just can't bring myself to dump a half cup of cane sugar into an otherwise healthy muffin. It won't be as sweet, but I don't need my muffins to taste like cupcakes.

Eliza thought she'd improvise as well. She had some (reheated, leftover) whole wheat penne in front of her and with a "bam!" tossed a fistful into the bowl of dry ingredients:

"Oh, yeah! I'm making pasta muffins!"

future chef

Being Valentine's Day and all, I had to splurge on dark chocolate this week. Eliza got her hands on it before I could put it away. I thought I got it all, but when she came back down from being upstairs for a couple minutes, she was carrying a frisbee with chocolate and tap water (she's fond of the sink):

"Look, Mommy, I made the chocolate soup!"

Her pretty striped dress was wet with chocolate stains, but she looked so pleased and took another sip in my presence, declaring how much she loved chocolate soup. That's a new one!

She is going to be on cloud nine tonight when she finds out we're having Chocolate Cherry Crème Cupcakes (from Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World). [update: here's a photo from the next day]

"cupcake bliss"

bean dip?

For 3½ hours this morning we were out and about, all on foot. First was music class, then brunch, and next the bookstore for story time and train play. On the way home, Eliza noticed dandelions poking out from a crack and we stopped right there and sat on the sidewalk to examine them and the ice plants.

Flower in the crannied wall
I pluck you out of the crannies; -
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower - but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what G.d and man is.

Tennyson's poem has always been meaningful to me, but never more so than today with my own daughter contemplating the simple complexity or complex simplicity of a weed.

We went along our way and were about to round the corner to go home when Eliza pleaded to play at the park. Why not? We took our sweet time getting there, as everything fascinates her - pine cones, clusters of violet flowers, dirt - but today was special . . . today a hummingbird perched on the fence just inches from us. I put my finger to my lips in a silent gesture. I couldn't believe the bird was still sitting there; I've never seen one that close in my life. I lifted Eliza so she could see it from my vantage point. This is the child who sends the cat racing to hide under the bed, but something in her azure eyes told me she understood this moment required delicacy. Not a word escaped her lips. The bird flew away, and she sighed.

The park was empty except for an older woman with a young boy. Eliza was being unusually talkative considering she was among strangers. When the woman's 3-year-old charge couldn't answer her question of how many beads there were, Eliza answered instead. From then on, the woman wouldn't leave me alone. I'm a friendly person, but it takes me time to warm up to new people, and so I prefer to keep to myself around strangers. She couldn't stop talking about how smart my daughter is and demanded to know where she went for preschool. Uh-oh. Want some bean dip? "She doesn't. Chilly out here, isn't it?" She persisted, asking about daycare instead. "No daycare. I wish I'd brought my jacket." Eliza continued to giggle, chasing after the boy as the woman continued to grill me. She rattled off a list of nearly-synonymous words for daycare and preschool, perhaps thinking I hadn't understood. "No, nothing. It sure is cold - I can't wait for spring." The woman was shocked. Her expression said it all: How is it possible this child isn't intellectually stunted?

When she first introduced herself, she told me she was a daycare administrator and told me how much she paid for each of her houses and how many square feet they contained. I simply responded with my name and a shy smile, hoping she should leave me in peace. The next thing she told me was that it wasn't right to have just one child and that I needed more. Eliza had asked me a question at the same time, so I got out of responding to the woman. On the way home, I thought how obnoxious I found it to be told by a complete stranger that I needed more children and that my daughter should have been in daycare by 4 months old at the latest. I'm glad the option of daycare (in-home or center) exists for those who need/want it, but this woman had crossed the line. She insisted my daughter must be quite unusual. Please - spare me. Perhaps if this woman knew all the bright, inquisitive, imaginative, sweet-natured 2-year-olds that I do she wouldn't be tempted to write off Eliza as a rare creature. But I didn't say this. I didn't defend my choices to her. I just passed the bean dip and went home.