Before I Forget // July

A mild case of insanity, the joy of quitting books, and a good many very summery summer things.

“If someone could see inside me, they might say: She didn’t have a baby and settle down; she had a baby and became extremely disturbed.”

- Clover Stroud, My Wild and Sleepless Nights

I’m dropping exactly ten sweet, dark cherries onto my lunch plate when I hear a tiny screech coming from the baby swing in the living room. Why ten cherries? I don’t know. My dad told me once that eating too many cherries would give you the screamin Mimi’s so I guess I just decided that ten was the right number.

I also don’t know why the baby’s crying. He rarely does and even then it’s usually a soft little bleat, like the maaaa maaa of a lamb. This is a sharp, almost panicked cry that rattles around in my rib cage. I scoop him up in one arm, my lunch in the other, carrying both through the kitchen and into the sunroom for a little picnic on the quilt I keep spread out for him to lay on while I write.

On my way to the coffee pot this morning, James showed me a World War II fighter jet he made out of plastic gears. “Watch what happens when I press this button.” He said, and I looked all around the room, astonished by the invisible fireworks it shot into the room.

The clock says it’s almost 2:00 pm. That seems impossible and I thought I’d have some time to myself to write this afternoon. Instead I’m clumsily scooping buffalo chicken salad onto tortilla chips with one hand while trying to console Rafe with the other. This is not what I want to be doing with the brief window of time when the big kids aren’t dive bombing me with requests to read aloud or play a made up game I’ve never heard of and always seem to get wrong.

James has been very curious about World War II ever since he watched a reenactment at our local air show, complete with tanks and marching soldiers and explosions. Every day he asks me questions that reveal the gaps in my education, or maybe the gaps in my attention during the years of my education. Probably both. Who were the allies? What is democracy? Who were the nazis? Why did they invade Poland? What is ocean access?

All these questions before I’m even halfway through my coffee.

In her book, My Wild and Sleepless Nights, Clover Stroud writes:

“Often in the course of a single morning, a single hour, motherhood will take me to a place where I feel: This is the end of my tether. This place, right now, in the mess and chaos, is where I snap. This place is all I can take. This is my limit…. The pressures of caring for my children, making them happy, feeding them, educating them, cherishing them, trying to fashion a childhood that’s happy as well as successful, authentic, loving and also woven through with my own memories so that it means something significant and enduring, often feels like being in a locked room that’s filling with water.”

Daily, war is being waged on my sanity. At minimum, my brain is holding three people’s streams of consciousness. Mom watch this will you play UNO with me can I have some cheddar popcorn I’m hungry can I have a lunch treat are we going to the pool today will you read this book?

Meanwhile I’m wondering when we should start school work again which reminds me I need to order their books and sign up for art class and then I start thinking about a minor character in a story I’m working on and the big consequences his choices have on the lives of a whole town and I wonder why he’s made the choices he has.

“I feel like I’m being mentally waterboarded.” I tell Jeff as I’m plating up dinner with dogs and kids circling my feet like a frenzy of drooling, chatty sharks. What’s for dinner I don’t like that chicken do I have to eat my green beans can we share a Poppi?

“What’s waterboarded mean?” James asks as I nearly trip over him in the three feet between the fridge and the counter. In the background, Luke Combs’ voice comes through the kitchen speaker, …even if it grew on trees, money can’t buy days like these.

“A war crime.”

READING

I quit 4 books this month for one reason or another. Some pretty quickly and some when I was well over halfway through. If I’m reading a book and thinking “I. Do. Not. Care.” I immediately put it down.

My Wild and Sleepless Nights by Clover Stroud — Katie Marquette shared this memoir here on Substack and I was immediately influenced. Chronicling the juxtaposition of her firstborn’s adolescence and her youngest’s babyhood, this unflinching portrait of motherhood was the perfect book to close out the 4th trimester.

Abby Offsides by Anna McCallie— The Ted Lasso parallel intrigued me. The Mersey FC players and the razor sharp dialogue kept me going even when the plot got a little far fetched. Kind of forgettable, but a good time.

Devoured my copy of Motherhood Minute magazine. Some of my absolute favorite writers contributed to the first edition and it was so fun to read.

Boys Who Don't Learn About Periods Will Be Men Who Fear NFP

EATING

I have written specifically about my hatred of all mayonnaise based salads, so it might shock you that I am currently obsessed with one very specific chicken salad. But! This is not your average chicken salad. It’s basically just cold buffalo chicken dip. Here’s how I make it:

In a mixing bowl, measure with your heart: Frank’s red hot, a couple big spoonfuls of greek yogurt and a little bit of mayo (or ranch! Or skip it!). Throw in a bunch of chicken. I used a whole container of Trader Joe’s Just Chicken (you could also use leftover grilled chicken or rotisserie chicken or canned chicken if you must but, honestly, gross) chopped into bite sized pieces, If you have it, add in 2-3 ribs of celery, 1/2 red onion, and 2-3 green onions, all chopped finely. Dump in a 6 oz. container of crumbled gorgonzola cheese. Mix. So good and it lasts in the fridge for several days. Perfect one handed lunch.

As if that wasn’t enough, I also made potato salad for Rafe’s baptism lunch. I KNOW! But hear me out. Grilled potatoes very lightly dressed, with lots of tarragon and shallots. Absolutely delicious. Kind of a hybrid between this recipe and this one. I probably doubled the amount of potatoes for that amount of dressing.

Jeff made this Triple Berry Crisp on Sunday night and we agreed that it was the perfect crisp to fruit ratio.

LOVING

Welcome to the Body of Christ, Rafe! And yes, James is barefoot. Naturally.

Celebrated Christmas in July with a screening of Elf at the park.

The big kids checked “lemonade stand” off their summer bucket list last weekend. Our go-to recipe: 1 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice, 1 cup sugar, 8 cups water.

The zinnias are blooming on our deck! The great thing about living in the woods is all the trees. The less great thing is a general lack of direct sun, but I found a little spot on the deck that gets just enough to grow a few flowers!

We started listening to History Channel’s World War II with Tom Hanks and it’s so good, but very graphic so use discretion if/when listening around little ears.

CONTEMPLATING

“I wonder sometimes if help at its best is enjoyment. It is for me.” - Morgan Page

How to Keep 100 Secrets