Writing 12:37 pm
These pictures are not quite done – they need to be formatted and cleaned up a little. Also, holy goodness, that text is almost impossible to read in this format; it’s a very horizontal book and I never noticed how vertical blogging formats tend to be. But, anyway, click on the image to enlarge and do let me know what you think of it!
(This poem is a paradelle, a form of fixed verse. You can read more about paradelles here and here.)
Uncategorized 4:35 pm
Being the smallest member of the family, Cleo has the smallest amount of closet space – one drawer. Maybe this seems stingy, but when you consider that her wardrobe is mostly onesies (fact: onesies are called baby-bodies here, as in, “Sale! Six Baby Bodies for Ten Dirhams!” Ha ha.) and footy pajamas she hasn’t outgrown yet it doesn’t make sense to give her more space. What would she use it for? Her coats? Her shoes? Her motorcycle leathers?
But oh, man, it kills me to have to pack up those dresses she can no longer fit into. Logically, I know she can’t use them and doesn’t need them, but (says the monkey part of my brain) they’re all so cute. Since we can’t archive them all, I thought the best thing to do was set aside a page in my sketchbook so someday if she ever wants to see what kind of ruffles she wore as a baby I can refer her there. There are lots of pictures, of course, but I like these drawings too – they show the matching underwear and hats, which are key to the cuteness.
Packing all this up has made me think about hand-me-downs. In my family, the hand-me-down is sacred – in fact, some of these dresses, the ones mailed here from Grams and Great-Auntie, have clothed two or three babies before Cupcake, and now that she’s outgrown them they will go on to the charity drop-off and clothe two or three more. Baby clothes don’t get worn much, and babies don’t care anyway – as long as their toes stay warm, they’re pretty easy to please.
In fact, I think I spent most of my childhood in hand-me-downs. Pre-high-school, I remember getting two brand-new dresses: a purple corduroy number with a butt bow and polyester lace at the collar (to be worn for a Christmas pageant), and another one in blue calico (my mom used it to bribe me out of thumb-sucking). I don’t know where those dresses are now, but if I ever find them in the back of my old closet, I will be sure to dig them out and make a drawing.
Uncategorized 4:31 pm
I liked reading Edith Wharton’s The Glimpses of the Moon, but since it was the Slaves of Golconda’s latest pick, I think everything that needed to be said about it has already been said. It’s trashy! It’s maudlin! It has too much champagne and too few surprises! It’s still fun to read!
After reading a bunch of these books (Daisy Miller, The Wings of the Dove, A Farewell to Arms) about American expatriates, I’m bored. I would like a book where the expatriate does not become dissipated or commit suicide or go yachting or make morally dubious decisions based on money. Instead, they get bogged down in red tape and make cultural errors and maybe get homesick for American canned soup.
Learning and parenting 6:00 am
BEGINS TEETHING
No teeth yet, although all the attendant drooling and chewing on other people’s fingers is certainly present.
HAS DIFFERENT CRIES FOR DIFFERENT NEEDS
Well, we have more of a volume indicator here. “aaaaaaa!” means, “Hello, I’m awake, why is it still dark? May I please have something to eat?” while “AAAAAAAAAAA!” means “Why am I still awake? I’m VERY VERY tired!”
LOOKS FOR OBJECTS THAT DROP OUT OF SIGHT
Sometimes. If it’s an interesting one, like the musical giraffe that she just tossed out of the crib who is now wheezing out the last of “Rock-a-Bye Baby”, in a depressed key, from the depths of the dirty laundry basket.
BANGS, RATTLES, OR DROPS TOYS
Really, American Pediatric Consulting Board, is this a serious developmental goal? “We knew we had to start saving for Harvard when Junior dropped his first toy at three days old!”
PUTS EVERYTHING IN MOUTH
Again – really? Is there some link between this and high SAT scores?
TURNS HEAD TOWARDS SOUNDS
With enthusiasm, especially the oven timer, or the sound of an impending tantrum from Big Brother.
BABBLES, SQUEALS, AND LAUGHS
Check, check, and check. Also, screams.
SHOWS INTEREST IN CHILDREN
Sometimes I think she would be perfectly happy sitting and watching her brother all day long. I mean, the boy not only gets to wear shoes, he can take them off by himself and throw them anywhere he wants. Just watching him get dressed in the morning is more dramatic than the most entertaining of Wagner’s operas.
SMILES IN MIRROR
I held her up to the bathroom mirror to test this one. She just looked puzzled. I could imagine her thinking, is there another baby here? Why aren’t they smiling? WHY ARE THEY WEARING MY PAJAMAS?!
REACHES FOR OBJECTS
Her favorites: cell phones, makeup, stray shoes, other people’s train sets, dirty plates, butter knives, loose rolls of toilet paper, spare change.
TRANSFERS TOYS BETWEEN HANDS
Again, I don’t understand why this is important, but she does it very nicely.
ROLLS OVER IN BOTH DIRECTIONS
Only when there’s something she wants (see “Reaches for Objects” above) just out of reach on one side or the other.
SITS INDEPENDANTLY WITH HEAD HELD UP
She can sit up if someone props her up, but only for about ten seconds before flopping over in an unpredictable directions. Half the time this makes her cry – the other half, she falls into fits of giggles.
Oddly, I feel exactly the same way about this chart.
Uncategorized 5:46 am
Finishing the books is a very simple process; all you do is run a tiny line of glue down the inside hinge of the endpapers, line the book block up so it’s even with the spine and covers, and press until the glue dries. Easy as this seems, it takes a couple days to get through a batch; I only have enough clip for two books at a time, and the trouble of keeping everything lined up until all the clips are on is more complicated than it sounds like.
This is also the part where I begin to get very paranoid about the books, and start keeping them in plastic bags all the time, because who knows? Maybe a bird might get in here by accident and knock them over into the dirty dishwater. Or, there could be an earthquake that would shake them off the cabinet and into the pile of wet diapers below. Or the toddler might get into the markers and go on a pink-Sharpie-graffiti rampage. Anything could happen! Save me, o Ziploc!
Once they come out of the plastic, they get pressed for another couple hours under a light weight (a C-clamp and a copy of Guide to Architectural History), so the hinge has a chance to flatten out again. Then they’re done, and they look like this:
And then there is wrapping, and envelope-ing, and hauling them all to the post office. And that is The End, or at least the place where I mix myself a cup of hot chocolate, put the babies to bed, and write down my ideas on improving the process. “Buy more clips” is on the list, right next to “Is the boy old enough to learn collating?”
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Uncategorized 6:08 am
Today Henry turns three years old. Happy birthday, kiddo!
Once, when we lived in California, another mother told me she cries on her childrens’ birthdays, because it makes her sad to think they’ll never be that age again. I think about that a lot, because I never cry on birthdays. (Good God, you’d be willing to go through Age Two again? Do you have a pain fetish?) Even though I love my boy very, very much, I don’t think Age Two will turn out to be the high point of our relationship. There was too much mischeif / tantruming / grubbiness on his part and too much “IfyouthrowyourdrinkatmeONEMORETIMEyoungman…!” on mine.
So, anyway, it’s a happy birthday.
