30 hours family free...

30 hours without a boy. 30 hours without a toddler...  30 hours...

alone.

It's not that I don't like my in-laws. I really do. No seriously I really do... especially my mother-in-law (yes she reads this, and yes I'm totally sucking up... kidding - she doesn't actually give a shit what I say as long as she gets quality time with her granddaughter, which she totally is :D) but when J suggested heading to Ottawa to visit with his family, and taking Poppet with him, in order to give me a little bit of time to myself I won't say there wasn't this happy little version of myself jumping up and down inside with glee. 

Since P was born, I've had one night to myself (about a year ago), and a blissful Mama's night away not too long ago with one of my best girlfriends, but this is the first time I've had two (almost) whole days and a night alone in my own house. So, I repeat...
 

So, what's the first thing I did? No, not a nap. I freakin' cleaned. Sounds indulgent eh? I looked at the toys scattered everywhere, the dried banana on the coffee table, the half eaten bowl of apple sauce in the dining room, the dishes piled on the counter and the books laying on their spines from front door to kitchen, and decided if I was going to enjoy my family free time, I was going to have to clean the downstairs so it looked like grown ups lived here. Seriously, what is wrong with us that it takes one of us being alone for a handful of hours to clean that banana off the fucking couch?

After scraping, sweeping, wiping and tidying I am having a lovely cup of tea that will lead me to taking a delicious nap in which I will cuddle deep into my electric blanket with a trashy novel until I doze, and when I wake I will walk downstairs and be greeted by no one but a bottle of stupidly expensive vintage red (okay, there are two. prepare for drunk dialing later), a take out sushi menu, and a list of a dozen things I want to write, read and create. 

This is my time alone. This is bliss.

Is it too excessive to have both a nice long hot shower AND a bath?  

Picture post

Today was our first summer day - yes I know it's only spring, but we could have run around naked quite comfortably. 

Wait. Why do we live in the city again? If we lived in the country we could have done that! 

So, anyway... we spent the day in the back yard doing garden work and playing with the best girl in the world. We took some pictures. Some of them our family will love. The many faces of Penelope is on going however...

 peak-a-boo in the hammock

Rockin' the shades

 It's been a long day, Imma just gonna chill out here for a bit

 Oh hey, something is hilarious...

 wait... no. no it's not

 In fact, I'm a little annoyed you're taking my photo to begin with...

 Okay, screw this I'm going to play with Papa...

Getting a kick in the pants from Lawrence Hill

This was the week of girl's nights.  A trek to Toronto (three bottles of wine and a dirty martini later), a catch up with an old friend over dinner and tea and then last night I washed the toddler out of my hair, a clean t-shirt and put on some eyeshadow. With lattes in hand we embarked on a literary girls' road trip.

Enjoying a reading by Lawrence Hill would have been spectacular in itself, but it happened to be held at one of the most exquisite pieces of property in the area, Wintergreen Studios. Wintergreen Studios has 200 delicious acres, completely off the grid with a straw bale lodge and a series of hobbit houses along the property, which houses a lake and beautiful walking trails. *yum* A walk through the woods, a hike in heels, and an offering at the river reconnected me. To the land. To myself. To passion.

Hill himself was poignant, funny and a delightful reader. Hearing about his trials with the book burning in the Netherlands made me realize just how strong you need to be to be a writer. You need teeth and determination.

As I realized my copy of The Book of Negroes sat in my dining room, unable to be signed, I was lucky enough to chat with him about writing, children and the trip to the UK with my 10month old daughter on my back. He asked, “Who does that!?” and I say “Me... I’m VERY SLOWLY writing a memoir about it.” He then asked me who my publisher was, I replied with a laugh. He told me to get on it.

He’s right.

I’m starting to forget the little details. As a freelancer, I write for work, so rather than chronicling the amazing stories of our trek when I have down time, I have started to doing other things... like ironing.

So, with the sunshine and our dance around the Maypole coming up this week (Happy Beltane) I am tapping into my muse with a renewed sense of conviction and determination to do this... if not for anyone else but Penelope and I.

Thanks for the kick in the pants Lawrence Hill.