Reading elgan�s last entry yesterday, namely the story of the rafters on Lake Massawippi, has sent me into a spiral of romantic nostalgia. When my husband and I got married, we spent our 10-day honeymoon in Quebec, roughly equally divided between an inn in North Hatley and a chic hotel in Montr�al. The five days we spent in North Hatley were marvelous, particularly after all the exhausting days leading up to and including the wedding itself. We slept late in our room, dined royally on the amazing multi-course dinners and breakfasts with pastries the likes of which you almost never see in the U.S. at the inn�s restaurant. We bought marshmallows to toast in our room�s fireplace and sat on our balcony overlooking the lake, wrapped in many layers to ward off the October chill while admiring the flame-colored leaves all along the lake. While in the area we hiked in local parks, drove through picturesque villages and visited a local monastery for a Gregorian Mass, where I also dropped a fair amount of cash on books of plainchant. But most of all, we liked taking out the inn�s canoes onto Lake Massawippi. Canoeing around the lake in early October was bracing, but spectacularly beautiful. Despite extended periods of time living in New England, I don�t think I�ve ever witnessed a more beautiful display of leaf color. We don�t have maples like that here in the Midwest. Plus when you travel by canoe, you skirt across the backyards of residents, getting little glimpses into their lives.

Canoeing with another person is rather revealing about your relationship. My husband, who doesn�t know how to swim (don�t worry, he was wearing a life jacket and I�m a former lifeguard), had never been in a small boat before and most of my recent experience was solo kayaking and the occasional rowboat trek. Canoeing requires a serious amount or coordination between paddlers or steering becomes impossible. You need to match strength with your partner�s pulls, you need to agree on when to switch sides with your paddles. Every intended turn needs to be carefully coordinated, otherwise you can crash into something or, worse, flip over. As the more experienced boater, I assumed I�d be in charge of the operation, but he felt that as the one with greater physical strength, he should be in control. Our first trek out was not particularly successful, as we squabbled about how to do everything. But after some practice, we got it down to a science. We no longer needed to discuss the mechanism of canoeing and could enjoy the weather, the views, each other. Probably a good lesson to us all around in our marriage.

This morning AJ was really getting to me. He hasn�t been eating the last several days and we�ve entered another phase of struggle about the potty. My ability to roll with the punches has been compromised by the fact that I have not been sleeping very well, due largely to the persistent cough left over from the cold I caught three weeks ago. I was reacting rather unreasonably to AJ�s energetic refusals to sit down and eat breakfast this morning, and my husband stepped in and told me to take a shower. While my initial reaction was to be upset about him undermining my parenting decisions, the truth is that I was relieved. I had gotten myself into a position where I was forced to hold fast on a punishment that didn�t make any sense. I refused to stop paddling to turn around. I was happy to hand over my paddle. I would make a terrible single parent. It doesn�t pay to fight with toddlers. The only way to win is to outlast them in stubbornness and that�s not really a value I want to communicate. Nor does it make me feel particularly great to out-bully a three-year-old. Instead my husband spirited AJ off to the playground at the river�s edge, while I regroup here in dry dock and attempt to make something more of my day.

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