For all that I write here, it still doesn’t represent our lives. Lots of things happen that don’t fit themselves neatly into a story or blog-post. So here’s the catch-up post of random updates.
For Thanksgiving, we went to Big Bear, and it was wonderful — maybe because there were so many other adults all pitching in with cooking and cleaning and Sophie-playing, so it was a true vacation for me. Or maybe just because it was crisply cool weather, light snow on the ground, just how Thanksgiving should be. Or maybe because we got to go on at least one hike a day, slowly accustoming Sophie to longer and longer walks, while allowing ourselves to eat astounding amounts of Thanksgiving pie. Ben taught Sophie how to throw stones into muddy puddles. We all had a great time.
Ben has also taught Sophie to say “Yes” (she pronounces it sass: she seems to have trouble with the y sound) and also “please” (pronounced peas), so she’s far more pleasant to talk to now.
Ben has been reading a lot to Sophie lately. She prefers his wild rumpus in “Where the Wild Things Are” to my rendition of that same rumpus. I admit, his rumpus is better. I’m a bit jealous. I keep meaning to take a photo of the two of them sitting in the reading chair together, because they are absolutely beautiful.
Ben’s arm is slowly getting better. Today, he could actually touch his face with that hand, for the first time since he dislocated his elbow three weeks ago. He joked that he will soon be able to ride a stationary bike, but he fears that it will be much longer before he can change diapers or do dishes.
Yes, we still haven’t settled our basic arguments over housework, even though it’s been almost forty years since Pat Mainari wrote The Politics of Housework.
Sophie’s hair and mine have both recently reached the length where we can wear barettes. She and I are learning how to do this together.
Sophie has been resisting eating dinner lately. This wouldn’t be a big deal, except that she already slipped so much through the weight percentiles that one doctor told us to feed her butter (we don’t), and I want her to eat enough that she can sleep well at night. So we’ve started feeding her a bowl of cereal while we give her the pre-bedtime bath. I suspect there are half-a-dozen reasons why this is an unsanitary habit and I shouldn’t be feeding her in the bathroom, but, oddly, it works for us. The milk that spills down her chin falls into the bathwater. Maybe this is the inspiration for Cleopatra’s milk-bath.
There are only two weeks left in my semester. I have particularly interesting students this semester, they’re fun to listen to, but I also have a particularly exhausting teaching schedule and I’ll be glad when the semester is over.
That’s the news.