Spring Break.  I'm having trouble getting rid of all my library books.  I am not reading them, hoarding them.  I think I might read them:  I will read them someday.  I open them and consider which to take back.  Surely, not this one.  I have notes in it.  Unfinished business.  I had ideas to yet think with this one.  Definitely not this one.  Look, there's a great random passage, if I take it back, I lose that.
 
Glean it and let it go:

The Heritage of Symbolism C.M. Bowra

". . . and that what matters is the instinctive joy of life symbolised by the chestnut-tree in blossom and the body swayed to music.  Philosophy may hold out consolations to the poet, but in the end he rejects them and goes back to life" (212).  ( Regarding Yeats)

I had it because it was one of Merrill's books he read.

Chestnut-tree
blossom
swayed
consolations
goes back

life.

Local T.V.

Show Me St. Louis

Last Monday the kids and I went to the Science Center.  They love the Discovery Room, and the Science Center newly remodeled it.  The day we showed up, at 12:00, not our usual 1:00 time, they were filming for a local television program.  So, the kids ended up on t.v.  Obviously, I'm there too, but I'm trying to stay off camera to a large degree.  They took a lot of film of Alaura.  She was cute and cooperative.  Jonathan was busy playing, so he is only in one shot at the water table.  But it is his design they show.  I'm their mama, but I do have to say, I think they are both pretty cute.

Today is Sunday, Jan. 11.  We have just been playing and relaxing at home.  J.D. is watching football.  Alaura painted some pictures.  Jonathan and I talked about travelling around the world while looking at our globe.  I have been working to put my spring semester together.  New classes start tomorrow.  Well, better get back to it.

All the best,
T

Lazy Sunday

Jonathan slept between J.D. and me.  He never stays in his bed.  He coughed a lot during the morning, so I gave him a breathing treatment around 5:00 a.m.  J.D. got up around 7:00; the kids slept until 8:30, when Alaura opened her door loudly, and Jonathan asked "What's that?"  It's your sister.  Here she comes in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... the door pushed open.  She brought her red basket of grocery and random items into bed to lie down on my left side, over my arm.  Jonathan curled up by my right side.  We stayed that way for probably 5 minutes.  Then they went downstairs to play.

J.D. took off to get the Focus's tire fixed or replaced.  He got a flat last night when he tried to go to a friend's to play games.  The kids and I ate bacon and croissant rolls.  Alaura had me draw pictures and number a list of all her items in her basket.  She ended up with 22 things on the list.  She loves to count.  Jonathan played "Demolition Derby" with his cars, and after we finished the list, Alaura and I joined him.  Some crazy bus driver took a field trip through the demolition derby with a load full of kids.  Fortunately, they were able to escape with no damage.  Jonathan had been excited for his first field trip to a pumpkin patch last Thursday, but it was cancelled because of rain.  We'll go next week.
J.D. came home.  Turned on football.  Fell asleep on the couch.  Alaura took off her clothes and played with my phone while naked, watching Mr. Maker.  Jonathan was squirting water in the bathroom with a syringe from his medicine last week.  Then he and Alaura wanted to watch "Accidents Happen" song with Thomas the Train on YouTube.  They ate boiled egg whites and bread & butter with milk for lunch.

Then Jonathan sneaked outside in his socks and no pants while I was watching Cutthroat Kitchen on Netflix.  J.D. was upstairs by then.  I hauled Jonathan in and straight to the warm bath, explaining he cannot go outside in October with only his shirt and socks or he'll catch pneumonia.  Alaura came upstairs too, to make a pillow nest on my side of the bed while Jonathan bathed.  I threw in some laundry, and J.D. got Jonathan out of the tub and dressed.  Alaura cried when I tried to wash poor, filthy Lovey.  She was upset and went to sit by herself on the floor in our room.  She's sleeping in there now, taking a much needed, late nap.

J.D. and Jonathan are downstairs.  J.D. asked Jonathan what he would like for dinner.  I did not hear the answer.  I'll cover Alaura up with a blanket and go see what's in the plan.  J.D. wanted to go to a movie, Box Trolls, with the kids, but too late now.  We might pop some popcorn and watch a kid show.  I have plenty of papers I need to be grading, but we'll see.

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snow walk

Last night's sleeping schedule:  

8:30 both kids were in bed.  I totally wanted a gold star for that miracle.

11:00 I go to bed.

12:00 Jonathan comes to find me and snuggle.

2:00 J.D. finally comes upstairs and takes Jonathan back to his room.

6:00 Alaura wakes up and stirs a lot.  I nurse her back to sleep.

7:00 Jonathan comes in and snuggles by me, talking about what he dreamed.  Saying things quickly:  "Street sweeper, apple cores, recycling, debris, garbage truck..."  Some narrative in a whisper that goes on and on.  I worry he will wake Alaura, so we get up and go downstairs.  

I'm grumpy about having to get up, so I lie on the couch hoping he'll play and let me doze.  He wants to watch Curious George.  Instead I decide we'll have breakfast and then go on a walk in the first real snow we've had.  So we eat some toast and milk, Jonathan finds the Cheesy Puffs and has a handful.  We dress quickly and head out into the half-light cold.  

People still have their Christmas lights on.  It's snowing tiny flecks.  Jonathan actually lets me put his cute raccoon cap and white mittens on him.  He walks around and around our lawn.  We crunch the snow, then walk east down the sidewalk, well, I'm on the sidewalk.  Jonathan insists upon walking in as much snow as he can along the side.  We find dog tracks and squirrel tracks and talk about them.  Jonathan finds a glass bottle and calls it "litter."  "Someone was a litterbug."  We take it with us to find a recycling bin.  He wants to go to the playground, so we do.  While walking I notice another set of footprints that include an adult, dog, and child's.  This child too zigzags between the sidewalk and lawn, kid nature.  

At the playground Jonathan runs around, wanting to play chase.  We do.  He goes down all the slides covered with snow and pushes it with his feet.  I brush him off.  "A few more minutes."  The snow is starting to soak through his mittens and footy pajama bottoms.  Walking home he gets cold, so I carry him inside my coat, with his chilly fingers curled around my neck.

My necessary resistance in forward progress. 

To my daughter on your first birthday

Alaura,

Hi sweet baby.  Congratulations on your first ride around the sun.  365.25 days and what you've accomplished.  I think if babies weren't everywhere, there would be more than merely astounded moms & dads.  That we learn to breath, drink, poo, cry, laugh, eat, babble, recognize faces, smells, places, things, experience existential crises, roll, sit up, stand, balance, say first words, and walk-- from a tiny red ball with fingers and toes -- to an individual with wants and thoughts.  In One year.  
  
I hope you had a good first birthday.  It's hard living away from family and friends to celebrate with us.  But lots of family and close friends called to say they were thinking of you.  On Sept. 16, 2012 we had a little party for you.  Jackie from next door stopped by and gave you a dolly.  Jessica, Paul, and Harrison came to play.  You liked doing the parallel play thing.  Your brother liked running around screaming and trying to eat ALL the brownies Jessica brought.  I made you a blueberry, banana, and oatmeal cake.  It was more like a healthy muffin, which is fine.  I even used wheat flour and no sugar.  But I owe you a decadent chocolate cake.

After your party, you played in the sandbox with Jonathan and got completely dirty.  Then you and I came inside while the guys worked outside.  We took a bath together.  The water warmly comforted you; you were tired from all the excitement.  You curled up on my tummy and placed your head over my heart.  And I just held you and let you sleep on me with a wash cloth covering your side.  I watched you breathe and tried very hard to memorize your baby face in the evening sunlight: the water on your cheeks, the red-pink sheen to your lips, the flicking of your eye lashes while you dreamed.  We stayed that way together for about an hour.  I felt it was some way of re-experiencing what it was like before you were born, when we were still one.  This time with you near your first birthday was rewriting history for me.  It was like giving birth to you again, in a peaceful, painless, happy moment.  You woke up and just smiled in the little cocoon I made with my arms, and we breathed together.  Over this year, I have felt some hints of regret when I think back to when you were first born because I didn't get to hold you for quite some time.  It still bothers me a little.  But something about it, in my imagination will now be replaced by the memory of us happy and warm, all snuggled up together in an intimacy that only finds life between a baby and mama.  

I will always see you in that moment Alaura, even when the end will wash over me, I'll hold onto you and the good it was bringing you into this world.

Who you are at 2 and a 1/2

Dear Jonathan,

It's true, you are my sunshine, my silly and sweet boy. You laugh at Mom's jokes and certainly like to tease me back. When we drive to Costco, I ask you what the giant "AMOCO" sign says. You grin and say "Garbage Trucks!"

You are still definitely obsessed with all things garbage: trucks, trash, etc. We have to tell stories to you about them and watch endless videos of garbage trucks on YouTube. Thanks to this, we now all know that they play music from garbage trucks in Taiwan to let people know they can bring their trash. So when you hear an ice cream truck driving by you say: "Taiwanese Garbage Truck!" and are disappointed when it's only ice cream.

I adore your desire to learn and experience language. The other day you exclaimed to me: "I like words!" That did my English-major-heart good. You like reading everything. At the bank you stopped me to ask what the signs said: "Please Enter Here." Today so far we've read the clock's instructions for proper hanging three times. We picked out words you knew and ones you wanted to learn on the remote control. You know well: EXIT, LAST, OK, On/Off, POWER, STOP, TV, and PLAY. In general we also have to read the microwave and dishwasher often. You think it's fun, and you have a strong memory. Other words and/or phrases you recognize from reading stories and in various contexts (mostly to do with garbage trucks): zoo, cat, dog, Mom, Dad, Jonathan, toy/s, bakery, mall, fruit, Allied Waste Services, Waste Management, trash, no yard waste, yard waste only, Heil, Tonka, USA, fox, hot, start, finish, the end, recycling, landfill, go, caution, danger, warning, water, one way, Wastequip, Aspen, beware, playground, hi, bus, car, and cookie. Now we're continuing to work on learning the sounds of letters. So far we've played with A,B,C,D,P, and S. I've learned something about you from when you first told me the letter "O" (which you learned by yourself), and that is to never underestimate you. So we just have fun with learning words and sounds wherever we go and hopefully it will help you have the confidence to keep going on your own. What matters most is that you're curious and want to know what words mean.

The other thing we do a lot is talk about what is part of "nature" and what is "man-made." You find this classification great fun on walks. The tree is nature; the fence is man-made, etc.

You love, love, love you some doggies. This is you with Claude-- from the day we painted shirts with mud as part of the community program with other kids this summer. You didn't really care much at the time about the other kids there or the mud, just Claude. You've now named the dog on Super Why after Claude. And just Sunday night we met another neighborhood dog, so now your pull puppy is Cutter. Yesterday we had to take Cutter with us on a walk to the bank. You pulled him along all the way down our street, then you both rode in the stroller. You fell asleep on the way home holding him. We're really going to have to get you a dog someday.

I love you Jonathan.

               

Who you are at 9 months old

 My dear daughter,   You're sweet.  (Absolutely yummy in fact).  All the goodness in the whole world taken shape, made pink and chubby, joyful and loving, chirping and babbling.  Since you were born you've had this depth of gentleness in you that I adore.  All children do, but it's your dominant feature.  Maybe it's because I'm your Mama that I see it so easily, but sweet baby, how I love the goodness of your soul.    


What you're doing these days:  On June 13, 2012 you were playing with the music train, just sitting there.  I turned around to put a dish in the sink.  When I looked back, you had pulled yourself onto your feet and were standing there wobbling -- looking so proud of yourself, especially when Mom made a happy screech and flew to you, some absurd mother-bird that made you giggle.  


You are crawling (proper) all over the place.  Sometimes you even bear crawl.  Your 8-month-old army crawl has definitely grown up.  


You love your brother.  You've laughed for Jonathan since you were a tiny baby.  Now you've begun to go after toys your brother is playing with, garbage trucks, etc.  You've started to play together (a little).  Jonathan gets upset when you knock over his trash cans.  He tells you "No, no Alaura."  But he loves you too.  Every time he tells a story he starts with "Once upon a time, Mommy, Daddy, Jonathan and Alaura...."  You are always included.   


Schedule-wise, you wake up and play with you pink lovey doll around 6:30-7:00 each morning.  Sometimes before Jonathan gets up and comes into the bedroom to snuggle, I will hold you and we will both half-doze back to sleep.  You take a mid-morning nap around 9:30 or 10:00.  Usually you play then until 12:45 to 1:30, when it's time for the afternoon nap.  Today you fell asleep in your highchair after eating bananas & strawberries.  I let you feed yourself mostly.  You really enjoy your food.     


Recently you've started to mimic me when I make a funny sound with my hand over my mouth.  It's quite cute.  And you are starting to babble more sounds.  We have "B" and "M" among them.  Recently I swear it sounds like you're calling me:  mammma.  


And that first tooth is finally making her appearance.  It's right there about to pop through, which makes me a little nervous.  I remember how much it hurt when Jonathan would bite while nursing.  And I know you are super sensitive to even the softest rebuff... let's just hope it goes well.  Heavens knows there are many ways a mother proves her love, and breastfeeding a baby with chompers takes some real mama love and courage.               


But loving you is easy.

Leucothea's veil

. . . and each of these Albertines was different, as in every fresh  appearance of the dancer whose colours, form, character, are transmuted according to the innumerably varied play of a projected limelight. It was perhaps because they were so different, the persons whom I used to contemplate in her at this period, that later on I became myself a different person, corresponding to the particular Albertine to whom my thoughts had turned; a jealous, an indifferent, a voluptuous, a melancholy, a frenzied person, created anew not merely by the accident of what memory had risen to the surface, but in proportion also to the strength of the belief that was lent to the support of one and the same memory by the varying manner in which I appreciated it. For this is the point to which we must always return, to these beliefs with which most of the time we are quite unconsciously filled, but which for all that are of more importance to our happiness than is the average person whom we see, for it is through them that we see him, it is they that impart his momentary greatness to the person seen. To be quite accurate I ought to give a different name to each of the 'me’s' who were to think about Albertine in time to come; I ought still more to give a different name to each of the Albertines who appeared before me, never the same, like -- called by me simply and for the sake of convenience 'the sea'--those seas that succeeded one another on the beach, in front of which, a nymph likewise, she stood apart. But above all, in the same way as, in telling a story (though to far greater purpose here), one mentions what the weather was like on such and such a day, I ought always to give its name to the belief that, on any given day on which I saw Albertine, was reigning in my soul, creating its atmosphere, the appearance of people like that of seas being dependent on those clouds, themselves barely visible, which change the colour of everything by their concentration, their mobility, their dissemination, their flight-- like that cloud which Elstir had rent one evening by not introducing me to these girls, with whom he had stopped to talk, whereupon their forms, as they moved away, had suddenly increased in beauty—a cloud that had formed again a few days later when I did get to know the girls, veiling their brightness, interposing itself frequently between my eyes and them, opaque and soft, like Virgil’s Leucothea. ("Within a Budding Grove" II.346)

Exploring this transformation to the image of Leucothea's veil.  The rough progression of nouns here (skipping a few): 

Albertines 

dancer

colors 

form 

character

play

limelight

persons 

I 

memory

surface

belief

manner

point

time

name

me's

Albertines

sea

beach 

nymph

story 

weather 

day

soul 

atmosphere 

appearance

seas 

clouds 

color

concentration

mobility

dissemination 

flight

cloud 

Elstir

evening 

girls

forms

beauty

cloud 

days

girls

brightness

eyes

Virgil’s

Leucothea

Transformation of images/metaphors:

       We begin with a multiplicity of Albertines.  In each one resides the "appearance of a dancer," with  transforming elements of "colours, form, character"-- changing from shifts in hue to the more radical alterations of shape and essence-- all under the guiding influence of the "limelight."  The image of the dancer provides a sense of movement, lightness, and grace, while the "varied play" of the stage light intentionally directs viewers' attention and alters their perceptions. The dancer becomes a blur of movement and color, leaving us to wonder what could possibly be the "real" nature of the dancer, of Albertine?  But what we can answer about this question, Proust speculates is more about the viewer.  We discern latent pieces surrounding the overall narrative of Albertine, her colors, forms, and characters. Then it is an act of belief to reconcile our narrative to the person under scrutiny, to formulate where the dancer is now and all her past movements into one unfolding dance. Thus the dance emerges from this act of "ris[ing] to the surface" through all the layers of consciousness.  And through surfacing, we move into the next metaphor, the sea.

       Albertine is also like the sea, in that one name simplifies a much more complex entity.  The sea has her mutability as well, and Proust makes her a nymph on the beach under those changes circumstances of clouds and light that form the character of a day, as Proust argues, the very "atmosphere" of the viewer's soul.  What we see by subtle changes in light is not just the moving dancer, nymph, sea, but a changing glimpse of our internal being. Then the focus alters to the clouds themselves: "their mobility, their dissemination, their flight--" as a protective covering shading the otherwise too piercing beauty of the sun's unabashed brightness, parallel to the girls' beauty.  A cloud the narrator finds gives him some safety from too keen a desire-- too keen a vision-- experienced in true Proustian fashion by the narrator wanting what he cannot have.  In the end, this cloud becomes like the "opaque and soft" Leucothea.  More properly the clouds might be Leucothea's veil, but here the "veil" is reserved for the verb "veiling," and the clouds seem to morph into Leucothea herself: her essential grace, her principle of saving.

        Leucothea in The Odyssey was a young woman that became a sea goddess and rescued Odysseus by giving him her veil to wrap around his body and stay afloat in the waves.  Here she connects with Albertine as another young woman and unites the nymph reference, sea metaphor, and cloud/veiling imagery.  Proust transitions us as readers from clouds to the image of her veil: white, soft, covering.  From water vapor to the sea-goddess enfolding the drowning sea-goer to buoy him up in the waves, as the clouds cloak the too brilliant heat and light of desire from the narrator, to also save him from a type of drowning.
Creating atmosphere in the soul.  Saving the soul.

Tonight while walking into the house J.D. led the way, carrying Alaura.  Jonathan followed on his own.  I was still planting flowers.  Jonathan stopped on the stairs half-way up and looked over at me and said "Mommy!?"  It always melts my heart when he calls me "Mommy."  But in this case it was also the tone he used.  It was him noticing I wasn't coming, asking for me, saying I should come too: a question but also a statement. There was just something in that moment of him thinking about me.  About belonging.  About family.  There are needy "Mommy"s and sad "Mommy"s, tired, upset, and silly.  This was more of an I love you.

Transit of Venus

June 5, 2012.  The evening was just dripping with beauty.  We took the children to the 1904 World's Fair Pavilion where the St. Louis Astronomy Club was meeting to watch the event.  They had about 20 different telescopes set up for the public.  The tall grasses moved gently; the fountain, lawns, steps, and outlining trees all made a picturesque scene.  We saw several versions of the sun.  The first one, through a hand-held device made it look green, and then sure enough, there was Venus' shadow, a simple black beauty spot on the sun.  We looked through a huge telescope in white light, so the sun became a devoid ball, except for that black speck.  My favorite was the red sun, with solar flares bursting, and Venus in high contrast. Jonathan tried looking through the telescopes too.  I don't know if he really saw anything; he said he did.  The next Venus transit will not happen until 2117, so while I am planning to break out of the nursing home or have my downloaded consciousness appreciate the moment, I thought it might be best to take advantage of the opportunity now.

We wandered around afterward.  Jonathan and J.D. ran down the hill and played around the trees, with the sun saturating them in that glowing light it has on lovely evenings.  Jonathan and I walked hand-in-hand in the fountain that said: "No wading or swimming."  People were biking, laughing, playing, waiting politely in line to gaze at the sun.  A college-age girl and boy walked by holding hands.  She asked him: "Do you think it's the end of the world?"  (Solar events bring out the apocalyptic in the best of us I guess).  He said simply: "I hope not."  I told J.D what they had said.  He replied that he wished the end of the world would be like this: peaceful, happy, beautiful.  No one afraid or in pain.  Not the terror or thriller versions in almost every apocalypse.  Just the best day, the last day.  I think too everyone there basking in the exquisite gloaming was in some small way thinking of his or her mortality.  To know you'll never see something again makes it special, makes us think relatively of the short duration we live in contrast to time's unyielding advance.  We are that little speck against the sun. Passing through.  But to pass it well, perhaps that becomes our undying beauty in the universe's memory.

January Summary

Life is crazy and good.  In January Jonathan got his first hair cut.  Alaura got her first real cold.  We managed through it.  We had some real snow, some fake snow, and lots of laughs.  Lots of tears too, but I usually don't run for the camera then. All in all, more laughs than tears.

Jonathan is continuing his numbers.  We're working on recognizing 11-20 and doubles of other numbers like 66, 77, etc.  He has colors, basic shapes, and most of the alphabet down (he still gets "H" and "I" mixed up now and then).  I like working with him.  He loves "helping" Mom and Dad.  He helps Daddy take out the trash & recycling and clean.  He helps Mom bake cookies and make lunches.

Alaura loves her brother; she watches him carefully and lights up when he comes near her.  Jonathan likes jumping in her new crib, and she just moved there for the first night 2/10/12.  She has been sleeping good.  Not as great as her newborn sleep, but still I have no right to complain.  I've told J.D. that even if she is a rebellious teenager (which I don't think she will be much) I owe her a lot of credit for letting Mom sleep in these first months.  Alaura more than anyone in the world has taught me to be an optimist.  I love her very much for that and everything else.  I've been calling her different nicknames a little.  "Apple cheeks" fits her with her full bright red, kissable face.  Other news, Alaura rolled over for the first time officially on Jan. 28, 2012.  EXACTLY the same age as her brother did: 4 months 11 days old.  Fun coincidence.

Dec. back to Sept.

 

 

Playing with the Alphabet

Jonathan playing with his fridge letters.  Notice his wild man hair.  He took a nap with his hat and presto!