multi-tasking is not conducive to the creative process. Or is it?

It's a Friday morning and I'm at home. Not at work, not traveling. Just home. And our little babe is asleep in her crib for a loooonng nap. Kitty is asleep cuddled up next to me. I can't remember the last time I had two minutes to rub together for such a quiet, unadulterated moment. And of course, the minute I realize, "I have MEEE time" I think of a million ways to fill it. So I clean the living room, delete old files off my computer, organize some photos, pay some bills and then I remember that I've been wanting to write more, so I open up my computer AGAIN.

But then I remember I had wanted to check my work email (why, oh why do I do that on my days off?). So I got distracted by that for a while. Then, only then, did I shut everything else down and turn towards my writing.

I remember that when I used to write in my journal, I would spend some time thinking about my day and what I wanted to remember from it—or learn from it. William Wordsworth described this moment as he lay on the couch as a "vacant or pensive mood" in which to be inspired. And so it was, I would seize upon a particular word or image, and then I would just let it flow. That used to be easy for me.

But back then, I was never very good at doing laundry or cleaning house.

Now, when I have one hand holding baby, another feeding the cats, another on my phone checking messages, another hand waving to Col as he gets home from work (and of course that dang work e-mail), and still another hand stirring dinner on the stove and stacking baby bottles in the dishwasher, the concept of quiet introspection seems comical.

And still, the drive to write and to be thoughtful is there.

I will never not want to write. So, maybe for now, when I start to hear whimpers from the nursery and my dang phone is dinging again and the washing machine is buzzing. For now, perhaps my writing needs to be short and sweet and inspired by the very chaos life has become. Perhaps a structured haiku poem to harness that chaos a bit? Yes, a haiku! Hang on, what are the rules for haiku again?

Hang on, let me Google it. Hang on...

Oh yes, haiku is 17 syllables, 3 lines in 5-7-5 pattern. Often about nature. Okay here's my Friday morning meeee time haiku (inspired by one of the loves of my life cozy next to me):

Cat, I love you, purr
Despite bites, blood, ER, pills
I still love you, Cat.

homemade baby food for our little gourmande

We were a little slow on the uptake starting Meals on solid foods. She was almost 7 months by the time we got around to it, so we sort of skipped right over the baby cereal and right on to the real stuff. So far, our little baby (and this makes her mama so proud) loves any kind of healthy, delicious food we've thrown her way. Favorites so far include:

• Fruit compote with peaches, raspberries and banana
• Baked sweet potato and pears
• Roasted carrots and broccoli with cumin
• Sweet pea puree with fresh basil

Mmm, those sweet peas were so good I wanted to eat them myself! I have found that the trick is in the cooking. Roasting the carrots and broccoli brings out their amazing flavor. The sweet potato gets all caramelized when you bake it just a little bit longer. The peas (I use frozen) are only steamed long enough to turn bright green. They they're rinsed in cold water to stop the cooking. We've been having so much fun trying new combos and seeing her reaction. It's making me excited to cook again! And maybe, just maybe, I'll finally hit up the farmers' market this weekend.

solid (wood) foods

So far, we've tried: Pears? Check. Bananas? Check. Hunk of table? Why not!

Miss Meals, 7 months

7 months & are we still here? Are we still who we thought we were?

Hello? Is anybody there? I'd be surprised if you were. Even I, the writer and keeper of this now-crappy, defunct blog can't be bothered to show up more than once every couple of months. And why would I?

I haven't been berry picking this year. I think I've missed blueberries. I know I missed strawberries. I haven't been to farmer's market. I haven't baked a quiche or made any fancy ice cream. I haven't even replace the tarragon in my garden yet (is it too late?).

But while the babe is napping, I just decided to stop by my blog and see what I happened to write about last time and cringed to discover that all the pictures and features were broken (for who knows how long) and that the last post about Amelia turning 5 months is not much different than the one I was about to write: she's just turned 7 months. How thrilling for you the reader. How original.

Here's the thing: there's nothing more I want to write about than my squirmy, burpy, slurpy baby. I want to write about how, at 7 months, she just started solid foods and absolutely loves her morning pears and banana breast-milk smoothie. She loves her Mama and Papa and when she's sad for some silly reason, all I have to do is pick her up in my arms and give her a little kiss and she smiles. I melt.  I want to shout from the rooftop that OMG that girl is sitting up on her own and gabbing and shrieking and it only was just a year ago she was a blob in my belly. How is that possible?? How can you be a parent and not believe in magic? It's pure magic.