Owen is attempting to break my teapot.
He's standing up against the bookshelf wearing the too-big fleece that I pulled over him before I took him out running, and he can just reach the handle. If he gets hold of it he'll try to pull it down off the shelf. He's sporting two enormous bruises on his forehead, one from earlier today when he fell off the landing and one from a tumble yesterday. This hasn't discouraged him from climbing up and over everything he can reach, though. The child has endless curiosity and no fear, which make for many tears.
James is perched on top of our two ottomans singing "We are the Wiener Dogs" at the top of his lungs while driving Lightning and Mater all over. He says that the ottoman seats are his bed.
Neither of them are in their actual beds, you see, because they don't want to nap. Owen fell asleep for about 45 minutes, desperately tired after several bumps over the course of the morning and a big trip out to the grocery store. He could hardly keep his eyes open at lunch and he was screaming at everything that moved and obviously exhausted. Usually that means he'll give us a good 3 hour stretch of rest.
Not today. And James was never even close to falling asleep. I could hear him in his room talking to George and singing continuously from the time I went into my own bedroom to the time that I gave up on Owen falling back to sleep and went to retrieve him for a run in the stroller.
Both boys need baths. Owen has been carrying around a roof slat all day, which would be fine except that it throws his balance off when he can only use one hand and he continuously bonks himself (and others) in the head with it. He took a break from pulling books off my shelves a few minutes ago to crawl over to the ottoman, stand up against it, and start smacking James in the leg. James sat up tried to grab the stick, and then Owen pushed him (apparently off balance) and James landed headfirst on the floor. Fortunately they both thought this was funny.
James looks like he could fall asleep. His eyes are heavy, and he's switched to humming now. He's laying down, just moving the cars back and forth in front of him. Owen continues to explore the room. He had a book in his mouth a minute ago, then he tried to chew on the power cord to the computer, and now he has a pen in his mouth. And the roof slat is still in his hand.
I think James might be awake because he's too excited about getting to watch an episode of Curious George to risk falling asleep and missing his chance. He began asking early in the week if he could watch a George, and when I told him that he might be able to watch one while I taught my Thursday lesson, he began wondering if my student was coming every time one of J's students came to the door, or the doorbell rang, or if he heard a car passing by...and basically all day long.
The same continued yesterday, and when we woke up to a cold drizzle this morning we told him that maybe he could watch one tonight if the weather was still nasty. He pressed for specifics. We told him after dinner. After we finished lunch, he wanted to know which meal we'd just eaten. Were we sure that was lunch and not dinner? And now he keeps telling me he's hungry. I think he'd be fine with eating dinner at 3 PM if it meant he could watch George at 3:20.
I'm not sure why Owen isn't sleeping. He's obviously tired too, but after a certain point I don't think he wants to be awake anymore. He's decently coherent now, but in about another hour he'll start to whine whenever he has to crawl or stand up on his own, and will beg to be held. Of course, once you pick him up, he'll attempt to swing out of your arms and get back on the floor, but if you set him down he'll get upset about that too. It might be teeth. Or maybe a low fever? Or maybe it's sleep deprivation, or whatever. He's cranky.
He just tipped over a pillow and went rolling across the floor. He still has the pen in his mouth like a dog with a bone. They are sweet boys, both tugging on George.
But they could really use a nap.
And apparently, judging by the smell, one of them could use a diaper change.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Updates
James looks enormous with his new haircut, and is sounding more and more like a little boy who will be ready for school in the near future. He's been assiduously practicing his States puzzle and telling anyone who will listen about the big map in his room, the names of the various states, what might be notable about each one, and whether or not they appear on a license plate. He spends lots of time make-believing in his room, whether that's setting up a house with George, practicing skating for hockey, playing football, racing cars, or driving some kind of large vehicle. (His bed.) He likes to have company while he does this, so he'll ask several times a day for someone to come up to his room and sit with him, even though you aren't supposed to actually DO anything while you're up there. (Don't worry--he gives you permission to bring a book.) He still looks forward all day long to certain treats, like getting a piece of parade candy after the end of a meal (he'll begin the process of choosing a dinner piece almost as soon as the lunch piece is consumed) and walking outside to the neighbor's house once it gets dark out to stand on their sidewalk and look at the "scary pumpkin" and the "scary cat." He remembered both of these Halloween decorations from last year when we moved into the house, and was super excited/terrified when they went up again last week. He seems to have pushed through a rough patch where he was refusing to eat whatever we served him and generally being awful, and is rather contentedly exploring the world of the Berenstein Bears thanks to the public library.
Owen is crashing into the world at full speed and has the bruises and tears to prove it. He crawls all over the house getting into whatever little worlds are open to him, standing up against everything and then shouting in protest or joy at whatever he discovers. He regularly stands up against the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs and shouts in protest until someone either takes him upstairs or lets him down, and he also loves to crawl into powder room and play peekaboo behind the door. He digs through whatever spices and kitchen cans are within his arm length every day, and tries to climb inside the dishwasher whenever its opened. He chases the vacuum, tries to crawl out onto the sidewalk, and enjoys taking showers. The child knows no fear. He is sweet and dear, though. He hasn't attached to a particular toy (thankfully) like his older brother, but a little giraffe which sings lullabies and a walker toy seem to be particular favorites. He absolutely loves making messes for the sake of messes. He routinely pulls down stacks of my books on himself, throws wooden blocks all around the house, and "skids" around on whatever of James' wheeled toys happen to be accessible.
J has been racing through hundreds of pages of library books for the last week, in addition to her other SuperMom responsibilities. She continues to experiment with new meals almost every day, and every bag of produce that enters the house she treats like an artist with a canvass. She's watching a kindergartner who attends the school across the street two days a week, teaches lessons in the afternoon, and directs a big block of flute choir rehearsals on Wednesdays. Every Sunday morning she pulls of an enormous production at church, and Sunday afternoons through Monday mornings are sacred time for both of us of sweatpants, coffee, and football. The sweatpants are soft and warm as autumn sets in, the coffee (a blend of Yirgacheffe and Tanzanian) is fresh and complex, and the football has been pretty great too.
I am immeasurably more relaxed and happier now that our plumbing is working again. I haven't missed teaching for a split second, and the bank account seems to be fine, at least through the first month of the experiment. This week I hardly have anything at all to do, and I intend to spend the time practicing articulation, listening to the repertoire (Dvorak Cello Concerto, Don Giovanni Overture, Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances) for next week, and plugging away at some reading projects. I finished my copy of Ovid and am trying to convince J to do a triclinium style dinner of Roman food. I've been working through the Apocrypha in Latin, am almost through the whole Iliad, and make periodic stabs at keeping up with Hebrew grammar. I've picked up so many other worthwhile bits in the last month too--how to work on our pipes, some review of old geometry principles, a book on the history of Rochester, one of the seminal texts of the feminist movement, Quantz, and tons of orchestral listening.
The days are delightfully full.
Owen is crashing into the world at full speed and has the bruises and tears to prove it. He crawls all over the house getting into whatever little worlds are open to him, standing up against everything and then shouting in protest or joy at whatever he discovers. He regularly stands up against the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs and shouts in protest until someone either takes him upstairs or lets him down, and he also loves to crawl into powder room and play peekaboo behind the door. He digs through whatever spices and kitchen cans are within his arm length every day, and tries to climb inside the dishwasher whenever its opened. He chases the vacuum, tries to crawl out onto the sidewalk, and enjoys taking showers. The child knows no fear. He is sweet and dear, though. He hasn't attached to a particular toy (thankfully) like his older brother, but a little giraffe which sings lullabies and a walker toy seem to be particular favorites. He absolutely loves making messes for the sake of messes. He routinely pulls down stacks of my books on himself, throws wooden blocks all around the house, and "skids" around on whatever of James' wheeled toys happen to be accessible.
J has been racing through hundreds of pages of library books for the last week, in addition to her other SuperMom responsibilities. She continues to experiment with new meals almost every day, and every bag of produce that enters the house she treats like an artist with a canvass. She's watching a kindergartner who attends the school across the street two days a week, teaches lessons in the afternoon, and directs a big block of flute choir rehearsals on Wednesdays. Every Sunday morning she pulls of an enormous production at church, and Sunday afternoons through Monday mornings are sacred time for both of us of sweatpants, coffee, and football. The sweatpants are soft and warm as autumn sets in, the coffee (a blend of Yirgacheffe and Tanzanian) is fresh and complex, and the football has been pretty great too.
I am immeasurably more relaxed and happier now that our plumbing is working again. I haven't missed teaching for a split second, and the bank account seems to be fine, at least through the first month of the experiment. This week I hardly have anything at all to do, and I intend to spend the time practicing articulation, listening to the repertoire (Dvorak Cello Concerto, Don Giovanni Overture, Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances) for next week, and plugging away at some reading projects. I finished my copy of Ovid and am trying to convince J to do a triclinium style dinner of Roman food. I've been working through the Apocrypha in Latin, am almost through the whole Iliad, and make periodic stabs at keeping up with Hebrew grammar. I've picked up so many other worthwhile bits in the last month too--how to work on our pipes, some review of old geometry principles, a book on the history of Rochester, one of the seminal texts of the feminist movement, Quantz, and tons of orchestral listening.
The days are delightfully full.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Blogging for Books--Through A Man's Eyes
I often find it illuminating to read multiple books at a time, and the three books that I happened to be reading simultaneously this last week were particularly interesting to play off one another. From the Blogging for Books program I was reading "Through A Man's Eyes" by Shaunti Feldman, a primer for the uninitiated Christian woman on "the visual nature of men." I was also working through the local library's copy of Betty Freidan's "The Feminine Mystique," and re-reading the 16th century "Book of the Courtier."
Each one of these books was trying to say something about the obvious but slippery subject of the difference between men and women. In each book I found myself nodding at a particular sentence or two and saying "yes, I wouldn't have thought to put it like that, but I find this to be almost universally true." In each book I also found thoughts to which I reacted with outright disgust and disagreement.
To be brief, the Feldman book fared extremely poorly in comparison to the others. It was technically weak, full of junk science, suspect popular theology, and often bordered on the downright offensive. Yes, a man is a different sort of creature than a woman. There is no unfolding of this truth which would justify the sort of oppressive restrictions that Feldman proposes for both sexes as a consequent. She commits the double sins of inventing a convenient history in which her particular argument finds its moment of crisis in the present age and in commandeering a complicated and inexact science (the nature of the brain) for her own agendas. I would not recommend the book.
In contrast, the Friedan book, despite its own issues with junk science and missing the tone of its own moment in history, is a provocative and well-constructed challenge to the spirit of its time. For better or worse, the arguments about a woman's relationship to her career and her home have been framed by Betty Friedan, and her work on the subject is the right place to start.
And then there's Castiglione. He writes in the form of a dialogue, so often the truly awful and misogynistic statements you'll find within his pages are rebutted or argued by another speaker several pages later. Whether or not you believe the culture of 16th century Italy was fair to its women, the women certainly were treated as human beings. Within the pages of Castiglione are complex and nuanced appeals to the social good, metaphysical formulations of truth and love, and several different principles on which a man or a woman might "do" ethics. Yes, the characters in the dialogue often make barbarous proposals for their women. But the women speak back and answer for themselves, and they answer not as anatomical eye candy which is obligated to be hidden, nor as victims demanding restitution, but as full human beings.
Each one of these books was trying to say something about the obvious but slippery subject of the difference between men and women. In each book I found myself nodding at a particular sentence or two and saying "yes, I wouldn't have thought to put it like that, but I find this to be almost universally true." In each book I also found thoughts to which I reacted with outright disgust and disagreement.
To be brief, the Feldman book fared extremely poorly in comparison to the others. It was technically weak, full of junk science, suspect popular theology, and often bordered on the downright offensive. Yes, a man is a different sort of creature than a woman. There is no unfolding of this truth which would justify the sort of oppressive restrictions that Feldman proposes for both sexes as a consequent. She commits the double sins of inventing a convenient history in which her particular argument finds its moment of crisis in the present age and in commandeering a complicated and inexact science (the nature of the brain) for her own agendas. I would not recommend the book.
In contrast, the Friedan book, despite its own issues with junk science and missing the tone of its own moment in history, is a provocative and well-constructed challenge to the spirit of its time. For better or worse, the arguments about a woman's relationship to her career and her home have been framed by Betty Friedan, and her work on the subject is the right place to start.
And then there's Castiglione. He writes in the form of a dialogue, so often the truly awful and misogynistic statements you'll find within his pages are rebutted or argued by another speaker several pages later. Whether or not you believe the culture of 16th century Italy was fair to its women, the women certainly were treated as human beings. Within the pages of Castiglione are complex and nuanced appeals to the social good, metaphysical formulations of truth and love, and several different principles on which a man or a woman might "do" ethics. Yes, the characters in the dialogue often make barbarous proposals for their women. But the women speak back and answer for themselves, and they answer not as anatomical eye candy which is obligated to be hidden, nor as victims demanding restitution, but as full human beings.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Things Owen is Not Allowed To Do
-Chew on electrical cords
-Climb down the basement steps
-Climb over the babygate
-Crawl into the neighbor's yard in nothing but a diaper
-Play with the teapot
-Play with the microscope
-Rip the library books
-Play with George and Steven
-Play with the water in the toilet
-Play with the old washing machine hoses
-Tip over the trash cans and play with the trash
-Climb into the refrigerator
-Pull out all of the knives in the dishwasher
-Chew on the toilet seat
-Chew on Daddy's iPhone
-Crawl into the lake
-Give hugs to stranger's dogs
-Knock over Daddy's trumpets
-Climb down the basement steps
-Climb over the babygate
-Crawl into the neighbor's yard in nothing but a diaper
-Play with the teapot
-Play with the microscope
-Rip the library books
-Play with George and Steven
-Play with the water in the toilet
-Play with the old washing machine hoses
-Tip over the trash cans and play with the trash
-Climb into the refrigerator
-Pull out all of the knives in the dishwasher
-Chew on the toilet seat
-Chew on Daddy's iPhone
-Crawl into the lake
-Give hugs to stranger's dogs
-Knock over Daddy's trumpets
Monday, September 21, 2015
Almost Four
After a four and a half hour battle to get James to eat his soup, I'm upstairs with him in his room. He sat at the table until nap time, was sent to bed without George and Steven, spent a half hour sitting in front of the soup in the basement, and finally finished it at J's coercion about a half hour ago.
He is sitting between two Lego boxes reading Berenstein Bears, and whispering to himself: "When I grow up I'm going to play and play and play and play. And George, when I get bigger I'm going to keep you and we'll keep on playing together."
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Hot Takes
In the spirit of football season, J and I are presenting hot takes this morning SportsCenter style on all the stuff that's going on in our life.
OWEN
J: He's always smiling, he figured out how to stick a finger up his nose, and he's already doing a great job making sounds. I think he can say fetch.
R: Mostly he needs to stop crawling off the side of the bed on purpose.
J: He's knocked over the trash can, the spice cabinet, baby gate, and a crate of of blocks in just the last hour alone.
R: And he's still smiling.
JAMES
J: Well, he's a hot mess. I'd be willing to swap him not eating his dinner for him washing all of the dishes I dirtied preparing the dinner for him.
R: This has got to just be a phase. He can't sit at the table and refuse to eat forever.
J: In other news, he's brilliant at learning the states, their names, and their location on a map.
R: I think he's being a brat.
WORK
R: I infinitely prefer commuting to Rochester than to Syracuse.
J: Semi-exciting, but I'll enjoy flute choir more once all of the new assignments are passed out and I don't have to use the copier again. Also, maybe this will be the year that the Pearce copier will finally work correctly and the internet will be consistent on Thursday afternoons.
R: And maybe this will be the year that all the conductors agree to rehearse the brass-heavy stuff first and then let us out early. And also the violas will stop complaining about the volume and asking for shields.
J: First two weeks are much improved with regards to amount of family time together.
PLUMBING
R: Well, I'd say there's literally $&$% falling from the ceiling.
J: It's making me feel 30 more than anything else in my life. Hardest part is the wear and tear on our family and interacting with each other more than actual plumbing problems itself.
R: Not getting showers makes it hard to be patient with each other. Or to exercise. Or have decent...marital life.
J: And our last go-round of using other people's bathtubs left them all with hand, foot, and mouth disease.
RUNNING
R: As I said...plumbing problems get in the way of exercising.
J: But, when we've been able to run, it's been good. It's been a great chance to connect, and I'm getting better at it. I think even you would say I don't suck as much as I used to.
R: You certainly don't suck as much as you used to.
J: Trying to justify the expense of the nice shoes. Which I love, and make running a lot easier.
READING
J: <sticks finger up in air> Glad to be able to contribute on this topic. I've read several books in the past month, including an autobiography...memoir? What's the difference? Anyway, about a physical therapist at the Walter Reed Medical Center, and a journalist's survival at the Culinary Institute of America's classes. Can you make that sound nicer and more succinct than what I just said?
R: And I just finished a Logic text, am reading Philemon and Baucis today in Ovid (one of my favorites) and am just about to start in on Euclid in Greek, plus finishing up Byron's Don Juan. And no, I can't polish this up because Calvus just pulled into the driveway, and it's time to go say hi to him and Silas.
OWEN
J: He's always smiling, he figured out how to stick a finger up his nose, and he's already doing a great job making sounds. I think he can say fetch.
R: Mostly he needs to stop crawling off the side of the bed on purpose.
J: He's knocked over the trash can, the spice cabinet, baby gate, and a crate of of blocks in just the last hour alone.
R: And he's still smiling.
JAMES
J: Well, he's a hot mess. I'd be willing to swap him not eating his dinner for him washing all of the dishes I dirtied preparing the dinner for him.
R: This has got to just be a phase. He can't sit at the table and refuse to eat forever.
J: In other news, he's brilliant at learning the states, their names, and their location on a map.
R: I think he's being a brat.
WORK
R: I infinitely prefer commuting to Rochester than to Syracuse.
J: Semi-exciting, but I'll enjoy flute choir more once all of the new assignments are passed out and I don't have to use the copier again. Also, maybe this will be the year that the Pearce copier will finally work correctly and the internet will be consistent on Thursday afternoons.
R: And maybe this will be the year that all the conductors agree to rehearse the brass-heavy stuff first and then let us out early. And also the violas will stop complaining about the volume and asking for shields.
J: First two weeks are much improved with regards to amount of family time together.
PLUMBING
R: Well, I'd say there's literally $&$% falling from the ceiling.
J: It's making me feel 30 more than anything else in my life. Hardest part is the wear and tear on our family and interacting with each other more than actual plumbing problems itself.
R: Not getting showers makes it hard to be patient with each other. Or to exercise. Or have decent...marital life.
J: And our last go-round of using other people's bathtubs left them all with hand, foot, and mouth disease.
RUNNING
R: As I said...plumbing problems get in the way of exercising.
J: But, when we've been able to run, it's been good. It's been a great chance to connect, and I'm getting better at it. I think even you would say I don't suck as much as I used to.
R: You certainly don't suck as much as you used to.
J: Trying to justify the expense of the nice shoes. Which I love, and make running a lot easier.
READING
J: <sticks finger up in air> Glad to be able to contribute on this topic. I've read several books in the past month, including an autobiography...memoir? What's the difference? Anyway, about a physical therapist at the Walter Reed Medical Center, and a journalist's survival at the Culinary Institute of America's classes. Can you make that sound nicer and more succinct than what I just said?
R: And I just finished a Logic text, am reading Philemon and Baucis today in Ovid (one of my favorites) and am just about to start in on Euclid in Greek, plus finishing up Byron's Don Juan. And no, I can't polish this up because Calvus just pulled into the driveway, and it's time to go say hi to him and Silas.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Back at Wegmans
Sitting in a Wegmans on a Saturday afternoon with a computer set up beside an empty coffee cup and a bag of cookies can only mean one thing: It's orchestra season again!
Saturday afternoons at Wegmans are the best way to kill the long stretch between the end of Saturday morning dress rehearsal and the concert that evening. I've gradually become efficient at the practice, learning how to pack dress clothes in a messenger bag, find an empty locker room in the subterranean levels below the hall, pace out the consumption of snacks and food, and pack long-lasting thick books.
In a lot of ways this sort of day is like a vacation. I usually have some pleasant company from various other out-of-town brass players, there's nothing I can get done around the house, and the only "naptime" I'd need to consider would be possibly dozing off in my chair for a few minutes if my book isn't holding my attention.
On the other hand, I do feel like I'm missing out on seeing James and Owen every time I have one of these long double days. Today I left the house before James was awake (I did get to briefly peek in on Owen) and I won't get back until they're asleep. It's the price of living in one city and routinely working in two others. And it means that I won't take playing with RPO next week for granted, even though I have many more services there than this week.
This is the time, though, when I can get back on top of life. I can research exactly what I'll need to do to install a drywall access panel or to hang a pegboard in my garage--I can even type up a short blog.
I'm very much out of practice with this after a few weeks off. But if you haven't discovered it already, rest assured that the Smith house has not been entirely silent--J has started blogging again.
And now that it's orchestra season again and I'll have long Saturdays at Wegmans, I hope to write a little more often as well.
Saturday afternoons at Wegmans are the best way to kill the long stretch between the end of Saturday morning dress rehearsal and the concert that evening. I've gradually become efficient at the practice, learning how to pack dress clothes in a messenger bag, find an empty locker room in the subterranean levels below the hall, pace out the consumption of snacks and food, and pack long-lasting thick books.
In a lot of ways this sort of day is like a vacation. I usually have some pleasant company from various other out-of-town brass players, there's nothing I can get done around the house, and the only "naptime" I'd need to consider would be possibly dozing off in my chair for a few minutes if my book isn't holding my attention.
On the other hand, I do feel like I'm missing out on seeing James and Owen every time I have one of these long double days. Today I left the house before James was awake (I did get to briefly peek in on Owen) and I won't get back until they're asleep. It's the price of living in one city and routinely working in two others. And it means that I won't take playing with RPO next week for granted, even though I have many more services there than this week.
This is the time, though, when I can get back on top of life. I can research exactly what I'll need to do to install a drywall access panel or to hang a pegboard in my garage--I can even type up a short blog.
I'm very much out of practice with this after a few weeks off. But if you haven't discovered it already, rest assured that the Smith house has not been entirely silent--J has started blogging again.
And now that it's orchestra season again and I'll have long Saturdays at Wegmans, I hope to write a little more often as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)