Drowning in a drop

Harper hasn't been fond of the camera lately, but for some reason she was amenable to this shot:
This is a more typical response:
It's downright surly.
We briefly had another pet last week. It was a tiny roly-poly and it spent the morning crawling all over Harper's arm and she decided that it was the key to all happiness and contentment that the roly-poly join us later at the zoo. So I pulled out our makeshift bug catcher (a plastic leftover container with some air holes punched in the lid) and in went Tiny Roly-Poly Friend and an ivy leaf. As an afterthought I decided to put a couple of drops of water in since I certainly didn't want Tiny Roly-Poly Friend to die of thirst at the zoo. Hm. Make note, all you amateur entymologists: Tiny Roly-Poly Friends Don't Need Water. They will roll into a ball and roll right into said drop of water. They will drown. Before you even get to the zoo and show them the elephants. I tried explaining to Tiny Roly-Poly Friend that it was only a drop and that if he hadn't panicked and stayed all rolled up he would have realized this and crawled right out of the drop and right on to the ivy leaf. Alas. He was beyond hearing. Harper, as is her inclination, refused to believe that he was really and truly dead and insisted on putting him outside to "dry out" when we got home. Feel free to personalize the metaphor. Unfurl all ye who seem to drown!! It isn't the ocean, more than likely. Maybe it's just a drop.

I have a theory that preachers secretly love natural disasters because there are so many metaphors to be gained from them. I don't mind it as long as they don't get too thick. I am loathe to criticize the direct anecdote, even if they are cheesy, because they are so much better than stories that start off, "A man once said..." or "It was once told that..." Seriously, if the scriptures aren't vivid enough to you that you don't find daily, if not hourly, personal, first-person application that you can use to illustrate a point on Sunday morning, then you shouldn't be teaching other people. Period. There. In the unlikely event that I would ever get a chance to voice my views to a bunch of folks Training For The Paid Ministry, this is what I would tell them. Don't use passive voice. "Saturday when I was buying Hudson a pair of shoes on sale at R.E.I....." is a much better introduction to a point than, "It was once told that..." And for the love of all that is foot-noted, never introduce a quote by saying, "A man once said.." There's just no excuse for it. Find out who said it and tell me. And if Google attributes it to Mark Twain and Warren Buffet, go with Mark Twain. And if Google attributes it to more than, say, four different people, that probably means it's trite. SO don't use it at all. Think of something original to say. Whew. Class dismissed.

Speaking of class, my husband was on campus on his way to teach one of his classes a couple of days ago and a student he passed asked him, "Is there a play?" He called to tell me and I immediately asked him what he was wearing (the husband, not the student). "Blue pin-striped suit, white shirt...yellow bow-tie." The husband loves the bow-ties. He's a snazzy dresser. Apparently to the point of looking theatrical.

Speaking of college campuses, I have decided something quite radical. Are you ready? (caveat #1: if you have a liberal arts degree and are easily offended, STOP READING NOW. caveat #2: the husband and I have, between us, undergrad degrees in English and Biblical studies, and graduate degrees in philosophical theology and law). I have decided that I do not care if my children go to college. That's right. You read that correctly. I want my kids to find a fulfilling vocation through which they can be useful, be joyful, and earn a living wage, regardless of the economy. If college is necessary to enhance their usefulness in their chosen vocation, I will support it. But if my son comes to me when he is 18 and tells me he wants to major in philosophy, I will tell him he must first apprentice as a pipe-fitter or electrician so that he can earn a wage while he pursues philosophy. Or the drums. Or poetry. I think it's a little trickier with girls. So much of what they will need to know I need to teach them, and I have lots of learning to do. Or I'll encourage them to be nurses. Because it is so very useful. And so like Jesus to go around healing people physically. Plus the pay is great. There is lots left for me to hash out, I realize. I just know that I spent four years at college and had NOT ONE useful skill when I graduated. I don't count the ability to find obscure thematic elements in Mansfield Park as a useful skill, you see. I watch home improvement shows and am amazed that people know how to wire a house. Or sew their own curtains. Or make sure toilets flush properly. Ok, the kids are up from their naps and we are going swimming, because these are the years they just get to play. I'll rant more on this topic later, I'm sure.

When you give a girl an action figure...

This is what she will do with it:She will make sure the firemen (which actually don't belong to us--they live at my parents' but hitched a ride home with us last time we visited) are tucked in, nice and cozy, and that they have some cars to choose from in case they wake up and fancy a spin around the fire station.

Hm, what else should I write about today? I got a new pair of maternity jeans. Then I went to Target. Bought some shampoo. And conditioner. Big thing of toilet paper. On sale. Toothpaste... Oh! Yes. The ultrasound. Everything looks great. And female. So Harper's hopes that there might be a puppy in there are officially dashed.

Doc Hudson

Hudson tried on one of Daddy's bowties yesterday.
Harper has given Hudson a nickname. Dare we say a term of endearment? This morning they were in the kitchen trying to ride their tricycles (it is the only hard floor we have except for bathrooms and is, I'm sorry to say, not at all big enough for one, let alone two, tricycle riders) and I heard her saying, "Come on, Doc! You can do it!" Doc Hudson, for the uninitiated, is the car (voiced by Paul Newman) in the movie "Cars." She continued with the pleasantness for the rest of the morning until we got to the park, at which point she forgot all about "Doc" and words of encouragement and instead reverted to "No, Hudson! You can't laugh/play/swing with me."
I've been trying to decide since we got home which is more depressing: a park with no children, or a park full of children (and mothers) who all seem to already know each other. I'm leaning toward the latter. Because there were around 5 different playgroups at the park this morning and Harper spent the first 30 minutes or so running up to kids saying, "Would you like to play with me?" and getting blank stares in return. It could be the case that the kids were just perplexed by the formality of the invitation. I'm still figuring out what my role is supposed to be in this. Probably minimal. We do try to meet friends at the park when we can, it's just gotten a little harder since we moved. And I'm well aware that when I do have friends at the park I chat with them and may not always notice if there's a kid who doesn't belong to me trying to join in. But still. When you're pregnant and hormonal and watching your little girl run up to people with a big smile on her face only to be ignored, well, maybe you won't actually start crying in front of everyone at the park but you will certainly want to. And of course, the one child at the park who would have been overjoyed to play with her, she spurns because he is her little brother. So maybe this is her consequence. Yuck. And don't think I don't realize that this is just the beginning. I was reading a blog yesterday about a mom whose little guy came home from kindergarten and, when asked about new friends said something like, "I don't have any friends. They all say my drawings are stupid." I was weeping for this kid whom I do not even know.

On a much lighter (or heavier, literally speaking) note, here is picture of the pregnant lady at 21 weeks. The belly seems to be growing faster this time around, as I had been warned it would. For some reason I don't have many pictures of me pregnant with Harper or Hudson, so I'm trying to document the progress this time.

Safe. Sound.

We are home. We have electricity, plenty of food, cable, internet, and no damage to our apartment. It is almost an embarrassment of riches. We are pretty much back to normal in our little world, except for the fact that both kids have colds so we've been staying inside instead of enjoying the lovely cool weather. We got to see some (but alas, not all) of our good friends while in Dallas, which is always so very sweet.

Hudson is going through the verbal phase where he over-generalizes: all men are "Daddy", all animals (and even the legs on my mother-in-law's table) are "PUPPIES!" The Generalist, I've taken to calling him. As a pleasant coincidence, Harper is going through her Literalist phase. She finds the flagrant Daddying and puppying Absolutely Maddening. "NOHUDSON!! That is not our Daddy. Our Daddy is at work. That is Just A Guy,"or, "That is not a puppy, HUDSON!! That is a STEGOSAURUS!" She is determined to right all of these insidious wrongs. It's tiring work. Probably why she contracted the cold. She has, to be fair, also started pointing out buses to him when we are in the car because she knows he likes them. A glimmer of generosity.

I was supposed to have my 20-week ultrasound on Tuesday morning but had to reschedule because we were still in Dallas. Next Wednesday will bring tidings of gender. Yes, we will be sharing. No we have not decided on the name, though we have narrowed. We have middle names chosen. Jane and Jude. We don't think we're going with another 'H' this time, but reserve the right to change our minds. Hudson was almost Holden, but in the end I just couldn't saddle the boy with all of The Catcher in the Rye comparisons. The husband is still a big fan. I was really liking Jonas until the husband reminded me (because he's on the cutting edge of pop music) that people would probably think "Brothers" instead of "Salk". Emmeline is the only girl name we somewhat agree on, but he's not completely sold. That will have to be all for today. Hudson has awakened prematurely from his nap and is crying which means he will be even more congested and miserable. I shall intervene.

the cone of uncertainty

Would make a great title for a short story. I think it would be about ice cream. For those of you who don't live in Houston, it's what they were calling the trajectory Ike might or might not take in the days leading up to his (its?) ultimate land-fall. After deciding that we would "hunker down," (yet another humorous catch-phrase the local media just couldn't get enough of), we changed our (I'll confess that the husband was, as usual, more clear headed than I. He was SO right. ) minds Friday morning and headed for my mother-in-law's in Dallas. We realized that the roads were traffic-free this time around (it took us, I think, 9 hours to get here during the Rita evacuation) AND that living without electricity for even a couple of days just wouldn't be fun. So, we're thankful to be safe. We're thankful not to be eating canned goods warmed up on a camp stove.We're hearing worst case scenarios that it might be FOUR WEEKS before Houston gets power back, at which point the salmon I left in my freezer will certainly be holding all of West Houston hostage.

We just went to Galveston for the day last Saturday. The weather was glorious and cool. Harper was brave this time and went out really far in the water with Daddy. She got her first sunburn because I wasn't vigilant enough with the sunblock reapplication. Hudson and I sat under an umbrella and played in the sand. He preferred, again, to keep his distance from the water, though he just whimpered instead of crying this time when I tried to get him to go closer. We have watched the news footage in amazement, saying to each other, "But we were just there.." as if that somehow negates the possibility of such destruction. In case any of us had forgotten what omnipotence looks like, it seems that the ocean surging over our sadly insufficient boundaries might be a good place to start.

three is the new two

A year or so ago I got a couple of free issues of a magazine called Cookie. It's a mommy magazine for mommies who shop at Bergdorf Goodman and whose Big Conflicts center around things like whether or not to have a nanny or a "manny" for their young sons. I found it pretty entertaining. One article I specifically remember chronicled a trend among the young and affluent to have at least three kids because it was a symbol of financial bounty. It mainly detailed the phenomenon in large metropolitan areas where, apparently, kids are SOO expensive because of all the private schools and nannies and the needing of extra space in one's upper East side apartment. It's interesting to me that while several of my friends have two kids with no plans for more, the majority of my circle, both childhood friends and newer acquisitions, have at least three, or four, or five. We tend to shop at Target instead of Barney's. Most of us don't have nannies. Or mannies. And while we're all somewhere along the middle class spectrum, I don't think any of us sees the kids we have (or will have) beyond two as any sort of hallmark of financial success. Growing up, my parents had a fairly large group of friends, all of whom, with one exception, had two kids. The only big families I can remember at school were Mormon. Even the Catholic families had three at the most. I think my parents and their friends find our choices somewhat puzzling, even irresponsible maybe. It was instructive for me, a few months back, to read a fascinating discussion/debate about this issue (from a decidedly Christian perspective) over at Amy's Humble Musings. I honestly had never really formed strong opinions about how many kids I wanted to have. And we still haven't. I think getting married somewhat late (I was 33) made me apprehensive to make broad proclamations about something that is clearly outside of my control. I had seen so many friends struggle with infertility that pregnancy seemed veiled in this longing with no guarantee of it ever actually happening. I have, as it turns out, been pregnant and/or nursing for all but the first three months of marriage. And pregnancy IS always somewhat miraculous. And it has been amazing. And unexpected. And tiring. And my poor husband has at times been neglected because he (usually) doesn't cry when he is not fed on time and he is really good at dressing himself. But I know neither of us would do it differently. Clearly at some point in the near future, I will be at the end of biologic child bearing. But then there is the fact that every time I read or hear about friends (or strangers, for that matter) who have adopted, I weep with the beautiful metaphorical God-ness of it, and something in me wants to be a part of that deeply as well. So. There you have it. For those who have asked, or simply wondered, what our plans are. I wish Harper were old enough to read this. When we talk about the new baby she has repeatedly responded, always in a slow, deliberate way because we are clearly missing it, "But we already HAVE a baby."

I think I needed to write this today because I had a day fraught with regret and self-doubt yesterday. I let Hudson fall off of a tall bridge at the playground and he was terrified and had dirt and pine needles in his eyes and his nose and his mouth and his face is all scraped up. He is, thankfully and rather miraculously, intact. He'd gone across it probably five times without incident and even though I was right there, he managed to trip and fall just out of my reach. Now there's a metaphor for you. It is, I imagine, some semblance of what Sarah Palin and her husband are feeling these days. Only I get slightly less media coverage.Here he is at two weeks. Much easier to keep him safe then.

Invasion of privacy

Harper: Where are you going, Mommy?

me: To the bathroom, Harper.

Harper: Poo-poo or tee-tee?