sunday

Today involved much baking. Much baking. Mr. Bump and I made a batch of brownies, a batch of bar cookies, a miserable failure of a batch of chocolate chip cookies (my nemesis, I tell you!), and a whole lot of pumpkin bread. 

I made some of the pumpkin bread into muffins and glazed them with a cream cheese glaze. I baked a loaf of pumpkin bread and made a batch of them in my mini bundt pan too.

Proof of the barefoot baking

The mini-bundt pan ones came out really cute drizzled with glaze.  You would think all that baking would be enough to exhaust us, but we managed to make and can 6 pints of applesauce and 3 of apple butter. And roast a chicken and root vegetables. And make a trip to Costco.

And one other small detail.  We groomed the dog and cut her hair, which is such a long and arduous process that we all have to go to our separate corners afterwards and meditate for awhile. Actually, it wasn't that bad, but the hair gets everywhere.  And when we're done, we have enough hair leftover for a whole separate dog.

This actually wasn't from today, but I'd say there was probably more hair than that tonight.

 

And now it's the tail end of Sunday, and I must admit this weekend was satisfactory. We got a lot accomplished and we had a date and roasted a chicken. And canned some applesauce. We are Superheroes of Sunday, I tell you.

date night

Mr. Bump and I just got home after a long date. It's been a fabulous day.

After sleeping in this morning and a leisurely breakfast, we drove down to Boulder to visit McGuckin's Hardware, which is always a great place to wander around. A hardware store that's so much more than that, both of us usually find something or other we want. After that we had lunch at Smashburger and wandered down to the Pearl Street Mall. Any time we're in Boulder we generally have two stops. The first is McGuckin's, the second is The Peppercorn.  They've got all sorts of kitchen stuff, all of it interesting, most of which I covet. Today we got out of there with a few cookie cutters, a new whisk and spatula, some measuring spoons and a couple of Christmas gifts.  We found another little store on the mall that sells Toms, and since I've ravaged my last pair within an inch of their lives, I bought a pair (this time gray instead of red--hopefully they'll age better) and then another pair because they were on sale and woobie on the inside. It was that kind of day.

This evening we had a date night, which is so rare we couldn't remember the last time we had one. We had a Groupon-thingy through Amazon local for a local restaurant called Venue bistro.  It was really yummy. I had a spinach salad with pepitas and goat cheese, with a Lion Stout vinaigrette. Mr. Bump had a cheese plate with fruit, nuts and homemade lahvosh.  For dinner I had a worcestershire glazed pork chop with barley risotto with cheddar cheese, apple and pear. Mr. Bump opted for gnocchi bolognese.  Normally when we go to dinner there is a winner declared for who ordered the best dish. Sometimes we get lucky and each of us likes what we ordered more than the other. And rarely, we both love both dishes and get to share. Tonight was the night for that. 

None of the desserts, however, looked interesting, which was a pity. But I had the idea to wander down the street to Apres Dessert Bar.  You got it, a restaurant that focuses most of it's menu on dessert. You can get small dinner plates too, but after all dessert is in it's name.  Mr. Bump got the belgian waffle with butter pecan ice cream, maple syrup and maple candy.  I ordered the banana bread french toast with oatmeal ice cream, spiced apple butter, and candied rice krispie treat.  As far as I'm concerned, it was no contest. I won. Oatmeal ice cream? Ah.maze.ing. Crispy cubes of banana bread, and candied rice krispie treat? Fan. Tas. Tic.  The piece de resistance, however, was the spiced apple butter, which married it all together. Yum.  Mr. Bump's was good too, but not as good, I'm afraid to say.  If you haven't been here, go try it. It's only open on the weekends, from 2pm to midnight, but soooo good.

And now, it's 8:30, I'm already sleepy, and the skinny jeans were a really bad idea. If I'm not careful, I could pop a button and put an eye out.

How's Operation Swimsuit going, you ask? Yeah. I'm not gonna talk about that tonight. Maybe when I come down off my sugar high. I know I'm not the best role model, but you know what? Some days look like this. And you just have to deal with it.

Really, that dessert was worth it. And the pork chop risotto was nothing to shake a stick at either. 

maybe baby

*This is a re-post from one of my first handful of blog posts from April 2006.  I've never done a re-post before but,  I'm tired of trying to scrape together a topic. There, I said it. Anyway, I thought this was interesting to read five years later.  Our ship may have sailed on babymaking (and I can't remember the last time I had that dream), but there are always what ifs. Let me know what you think on the subject.*

Last night I had one of those nights where you keep falling back into the same dream--dreaming the same thing over and over, waking up, and then falling back into the dream. It was a clear case of knowing why I was dreaming what I was dreaming, but not really knowing or wanting to know what it might mean. It felt like someone kept pushing my face underwater--I would struggle to wake up out of it and then I would just fall back under.

The dream is fading now but I know it involved a baby--an infant--and breastfeeding, and a feeling of ineptitude with regard to the ability to not just care for the infant, but to remember that it needed caring for. At one point I went out and left the baby sleeping. The baby didn't seem to cry or make noise--it was like a doll. A placeholder. So it seems pretty obvious what the dream is "about," although I'm not sure that the conscription of narrative and meaning on what is so obviously non-narrative and disjointed is wholly appropriate.

The question of children--to breed or not to breed--has been on our minds a great deal lately. We are entering the age of life where nearly everyone we know has had children or is having children. At this point, we only know one couple who are married but have not made that leap. We feel a bit adrift. Currently we are reading this book, which, while timely, is not necessarily making our minds up one way or another.

Tell me how you know to have children? What are the reasons for it? Why have children at all? What makes it the "right time" in your life, your circumstances of place and situation? Am I treading water, waiting? Or is it not meant to be for us? Do we just not want it badly enough to justify what comes with procreation? Is it safe? Does it matter if it isn't? I want to know if anyone thinks about the world their children will inherit when they make the decision. How do you shrug that off or make it ok? Will it make me happy? Will it hurt the happiness I already have? What if it changes me? What if it doesn't?

Sometimes I think I do want parenthood, and all that it entails. I think that it would make things easier, in some ways. You have a defined role: in your house, in society, in the world. Everyone knows that you are a Mother, and what that means. But then another part of me wants to make my own path, my own role. I want to decide who I want to be. I know that I don't have to be the "mother" as anyone else defines it. I know that. But I also know that it is easier to walk a path that is already beaten down than one that you have to forge yourself.

But I also would want it for other reasons, too. I would want it for baby smells and a boy who looked like Mr. Bump, with those same hands that his father and his brother have, and he has too. I would want it for teaching someone, and that moment when suddenly you are learning from them. I would want it for heated arguments about political beliefs, for watching someone shape who they are, which parts align with yours, which parts are against yours. I would want it for the experience of the whole thing, baths and meals and games and tears and hugs and letting them go. I would want it for my parents' sake, even though they have never pushed a desire for grandchildren on me. I would want it for the people I hope I could raise children to be in the world, and how they might change it in ways the world wouldn't change if they didn't exist. I would want it for hope.

There is the other side of me, too. There is the side which doesn't want to have to discipline anyone, is frankly afraid of what kind of damage she could do to someone who is wholly dependent upon my guidance. It is the side that loves my life with Mr. Bump, loves the freedom we have in what we spend our money on, and where we can travel to. It is the side that can sit for a whole afternoon reading a book, letting silence fill the space around me. It is the side which likes its nap, doesn't like to share, doesn't like a mess. It is also the side that loves Mr. Bump so much and worries about how children tax a relationship, how they change it. How they strain a marriage financially, emotionally, physically.

If we had gotten pregnant by accident, I can't tell you what we would have done, but we are careful people and that hasn't happened. It probably never will. And so it is up to us which way we want to turn. We don't have (thankfully) any pressure from parents or families for grandchildren. We are left to our own decision-making devices. Some days I'm tempted to flip a coin, I'm so ambivalent.

But Mr. Bump is much more cautious about the whole thing. I think initially when I met him he understood that someday he would get married, have children, etc. But then he met me, and I imparted the beliefs that I had had since I was eight or so, which were, "Why have children? Not for me." I think he challenged his own beliefs and was won over to mine. Now he claims I did too good a job convincing him he didn't want kids. I understand how he feels and my feelings are so of two minds that I am on his side and I am not, all at the same time.

I want someone to tell me the answer but I know there is not really anyone who can. And so I dream this dream, probably at least once or twice a month, where I lose a baby, or I think I'm pregnant but I don't ever look pregnant, or something like that. And I know that dreaming about that baby doesn't mean that I want a baby. But I wish it did. It would be so much easier that way.

P.S.--I have heard that there are all these people out there reading this blog--directed there by one of my dear friends. But I have yet to hear from any of you--you ghost readers. In the world of forums and blogs you're called lurkers. It seems to me that I could use your help--tell me what you think about what I think. I'm never above hearing other people's opinions, thoughts, advice. Please. I don't bite. (Unless you ask me to, that is.)

Originally posted April 3, 2006.