Punt

I've been knocked-out sick twice in the last nine days and, of course, the universe paid this no mind and things solidered on as I lay in bed. Result: I am up to my freckled nose in just about everything. I've missed my blog, but since I haven't quite carved out the time, I'm punting you over to one of my favorite places to check out the sweetest post I've read in awhile. It's eye-watering wonderful. Enjoy!

A real, not-ripped-off post to come. Promise.

This picture has nothing to do with anything. It's a recent shot of my son looking like he's about to give me a hard time. He, like the rest of universe, saw no need to slow down in light of my illnesses. He never slows down.

Chuff Chuff

Chris and I are operating like a well-oiled machine these days. We accomplish so much at night -- dinner, play, bath, bedtime stories, dishes, laundry, sweeping, toy chucking, lunches and coffee for the next day, often a little work, tea and a little TV in bed. Whew. At some point in January, in the midst of all this daily minutiae, I misplaced my reading time. I think I'll find it again once the days are longer and the screened porch is calling. Oh the lazy days of summer, they will be a welcome respite from these productive weeks.

Though the adult reading has been pushed to the side, I'm still willing to wager I read more on a daily basis than ever thanks to Nicky. His favorite thing, being given given cheese and blueberries, is to grab a book and crawl into your lap with it (he doesn't crawl into it so much as he backs into it). Just recently, he started to want to read things over and over again.

Last night, in addition to a Cars (the movie) calendar that we must have "read" at least 20 times (not at all high-brow enough to warrant blog space ;)), we read Freight Train by Donald Crews about five times. This has been on Nicky's top 10 list since around age 1 and I love it. The illustrations are wonderful and there's so much room for imagination. Plus, at about 10 sentences, it's a pretty easy read. It requires constant chuffing and choo-chooing, but Nicky handles most of that.

At bedtime we read Hug Time by Patrick McDonnell. I picked this out for Nicky's Valentine's gift after falling in love with delicate watercolors. I really love the gentle, environmental message, too, and the fact that Nicky has the attention span and patience for a rather quiet narrative like this just tugs at my heart. It's an undeniable sign of his exploding maturity. The sweet little rhymes get lodged in my mind, so that as I'm doing the dishes and making Nick's lunch, I'm thinking:

"Hug the whole world, will that make it better? As Jules nodded yes, Doozy helped with his sweater."

Or

"The world is SO big, and yet so small. It's time that we embrace it all. That's something that we all can do. Start with the one who's closest to you."

I'm looking forward to checking out McDonnell's other books, especially Art.

Oh, I love childrens books! Happy Thursday!

You Know That Feeling You Get When ...

you accidentally walk in on someone in the bathroom? Not in a public bathroom, but in a situation where you'll have to look that person in the eye afterward, be in the same room with them ... that feeling. Are you familiar? It's one of the most uncomfortable situations I can conjure. It's the feeling I get reading Miranda July's No One Belongs Here More Than You.

If you walked in on one of July's characters in the bathroom, they would probably rejoin you in the living room completely naked from the waist down. "Here," they'd deadpan with a blank expression. "Take a closer look."

Yep, it's that weird.

But I like a little freaky in my life here and there. I also like the wonderful sense of detachment that accompanies July's descriptions of some of the most intimate thoughts and actions. Detachment and intimacy, not easy bedfellows, but she does it magnificently. And as odd as some of the stories in this collection are, they are masterfully written and I find myself returning again and again to certain sentences, certain images. I don't have the book with me at present, but one of my favorites was a character likening the act of trying to remember a special dream as she went about her day to walking gingerly with full cup of water, trying not to spill. It's much better in the book, but hopefully you can appreciate the idea.

So long live the odd and women bold enough to write and publish it. We're all the better for it.

Look Around ...

and appreciate everything.

I got this advice tonight and I really love it.

What was I supposed to be doing on this blog? Reading ... writing about it ... right. Seems we've gotten wildly off topic. Right now I'm (finally!) reading No one Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July and I have a great post in mind. Frankly, though, I just don't have the energy to write anything especially intelligent right now. My days are too full of writing, of editing.

What I do feeling like doing is ticking through the things I appreciate/love in life, beacause it's a nice pastime and my husband's not home from his business trip yet. I'm a little bored (and thankful for it, trust me). I thought about including a list of things here, but that (I think) would prove a bit redundant, and by now there are obvious themes running through my posts. I love my husband and my son and the way they love me, I love my family and friends, I love the way my life is unfolding, I love the little things. I love sitting by the fire right now, knowing that in just a few months I'll be writing posts like these from a couch on our screened-in porch. I'll be watching the trees, which will once again make me feel like there isn't another house around for miles, and listening to the hum of cicadas. And since we're no longer moving in, this time I'll be gloriously bored.

Mercy!

I get it nature! You're in control! But please, we're unprepared, both mentally and physically. We really can't take it anymore. Am I a southerner or a northerner? Do I drive in the snow or do I hole it up and bake cookies every time winter weather threatens? I don't own a snow shovel. I don't know where my winter gloves are. Please, don't make me find them.

I suffered this identity crisis this morning, wondering if I was being silly for thinking I should keep my son home when the weather reports said nothing would stick to the road. Long mental-anguish-story later, I decided to drive him in and on my way home found myself in a white-out. A total white-out. I immediately turned around and headed back to daycare, imagining that if I didn't we would end up in the tail of the D.C. storm and be hit with 8 inches and Nicky would have to sweat it out there all day. By the time I got there, I was crying on the phone with my husband saying I didn't know how I would get home. My husband is away this week. The first thought I had was to call my parents to come and get me.

As a mom, I have many (really, a ridiculous list of) goals, but chief among them are that I raise a child who:

• Is a responsible citizen
• Thinks of me as one of the first people they call when they're in trouble (even when they're 30)

I didn't call my parents. I hung out in the daycare while Nicky ate his snack, which was awesome (imagine 12 toddlers signing "more" when they have 4 cookies in front of them). We got home. We had to leave our car at steep entrace to our neighborhood and hitch a ride with a neighbor who was gracious enough to accomodate the Boda Bean.

I didn't ask my parents to come, but they did. And so did my sister and her Kelly. And we love them for it. And, turns out, my husband is coming home early tonight. And we always love him. Lots.

Self Starter

Oh, I am having trouble getting the mental motor running today. This weekend was great, but way too fast. We had more snow, making this quite a record winter for us. Not the same kind of snowstorm we had last weekend, but snow nonetheless and a wonderful reason to stay inside by the fire all day on Saturday (with the exception of a brief, bundled-up excursion around the neighborhood). Yesterday was bright and sunny and cold. We made a huge snowman with Brussels sprout eyes and grape teeth before it all started to melt. It was a heavy, wet snow and so, as it melted, clumps of it remained on the tips of branches. By the time we took our late afternoon walk, it looked like the height of cherry blossom season. A sweet little reminder of the coming spring.

Sometimes, lots of times if you're lucky, you feel like there's nowhere else in the world you'd rather be than at your home with your family doing just what you're doing at that moment. That's how we felt this weekend. As I churn out yet another assignment this week, here are the things I'll be remembering:

• The giddy feeling I got finishing Nicky's extra-large floor pillow this weekend. It's for his little reading area. Everytime I look at it I beam with pride that I can actually sew straight lines. It's the little things...
• The look of crazy toddler ectasy on Nicky's face as he crawled back and forth through his play tunnel at least 100 times a row on Saturday night. In the nude. We filled it with balls. He kept going. 
• Eating bursting blueberry pancakes on Saturday morning with the winter storm really kicking in outside the french doors.
• Engaging in a LOST marathon and sipping red wine with my husband in front of the fire on Saturday night.
• The look of crazy toddler ectasy on Nicky's face as he watched his dad and neighbor have a snowball fight with all the neighborhood boys. He was screaming with delight.
• Watching our little 5-year-old neighbor hugging on Boda and playing fetch with her. Boda gets a lot of love from these neighborhood kids. She's the loyal, stick-chasing dog I always dreamed of having when I was young.
• Laughing at Nicky wearing the t-shirt I made him. Poor kid. He's too tolerant of me sometimes.
• Turning off the Superbowl to eat dinner with one another and listen to Ira Glass.
• Folding laundry in my room listening to Chris read The Hobbit to Nicky while he splashed around in the tub. 
• Telling my husband I love him at least 20 times this weekend and really meaning it, every time.

A Breather

Only a brief one. Work has been almost unbelievably busy lately. I've been so busy that it felt like I was fitting life in around work; I've been tucking family moments into the nooks and crannies of my work days. I hate that feeling.

I completed a deadline last night and felt like a new person. I finally had a glass of wine. My husband and I ate popcorn and cookies and watched LOST Season 3 in bed. Perhaps because I grew up in a no-TV-in-the-bedroom household, I love that so much. He knows it.

So, I'm through the worst of it, for now. One more deadline on Feb. 17th, which will make for an interesting next week. My husband will be traveling, too, which will make it extra-special interesting. That's next week, though. This weekend is all ours and it feels like such a gift.

It's nice to appreciate things. Like having a job right now and a beautiful family and home and friends and family and creative outlets. And a job well done. I'm a sucker for that one. And books on the shelves, even if you don't have time to ready any of them. (By the way, after being so bogged down with work, I may be switching novels. I don't really want to read about an office right now. I'm back on the frivolous train. I do this a lot, by the way: start a novel, put it down in favor of something else, pick it up a month later. I've always done that. I appreciate the ability to do that, as well.)