Miss America Can Just Resign...

Uncle Dave: Uh, Jen, you've got some shit on your face there. It's been bothering me.

Me: (feels face) That's a zit.

Uncle Dave: Oh, sorry Jen. I thought it was strawberry jam.

Lead Links.

I finally got the little gnome's lead levels tested by a very efficient and skilled blood-taker at CPMC's California campus. His level was 4 micrograms/deciliter. While over 10 is considered dangerous by the CDC, studies have shown that even lower lead levels can cause developmental problems. We are trying to isolate the sources of lead in his life, in addition to the paint in my parents' house. I have heard that there are methods for removing lead from the body, although removing lead apparently does not reverse any ill effects caused by its presence in the body.

Here are some of the links that I have been reading.

Lead Intoxication in General

http://www.epa.gov/lead/
http://askdrsears.com/html/10/t110211.asp

Even Low Levels a Problem

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=990DE5D8113EF936A3575BC0A9659C8B63

Lead Exposure Linked to Violent Crime

http://articles.latimes.com/2008/may/28/science/sci-lead28

Iron-fortification can reduce Lead Levels

http://pediatrics.aappublications.org/cgi/content/abstract/117/6/2014

Soren in his Winter Equipment.

Soren in his winter equipment.
Originally uploaded by jmss.

Sonal gave Soren, among many lovely gifts, this sweatshirt designed by a friend of hers in India. In the upper right it reads Winter Equipment and the puppy on the front reminds you not to forget your scarf.

Naturally I dressed Soren in it at the tail-end of July in San Francisco.

Addendum.

*I felt grateful that the little gnome has not weaned at that particular moment. I noticed this at all because there are plenty of moments when I find it increasingly annoying. He is quite grabby and sticks his hands down my shirt, which I do not like. Also, when he decides that he would like to nurse it is very difficult to distract him into doing something else and then he becomes very loud. This is inconvenient at many times, such as when the bride is walking down the aisle to get married.

This weekend we drove down the coast to Big Sur for a friend's wedding. It was spectacular, even after the recent fires. On the morning of the wedding, Peter and I took the little gnome on a walk. He slept on Peter's back the entire way and the two of them were soaked with sweat by its end. We followed the Valley View path, one of the few currently open. Much of the ground was thick with gray ash and the leaves browned or blackened. Remarkable, amidst the evidence of sweeping fires, were the lizards still darting up the trunks and how much of the forest still stood. I am not trying to play down the damage that the fires brought, but the capacity of the forest and its creatures to persevere moved me.

While walking along the ashen path I felt, despite his little grabbing hands that have been driving me crazy, grateful that the little gnome has not yet weaned.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Jaw-wagger and other tidbits.

The little gnome is definitely getting the hang of words. It takes only a very slight encouragement to get him to touch and name every nose in a group of people. Watch yourself, or you will find yourself leaning down to present your schnoz to his pointer finger. Then he will touch each of your ears and say Eeaa. Try to keep him away from your earrings. I do not wanted any ear-wounds on my conscious. While in Berkeley yesterday he was stalking a squirrel and after hearing me repeat Squirr-el numerous times he came out with Whirl. Today at Recess he pointed to Eiya (Leila). As you can see there are some consonants missing. Yes, Dog is still Gaga. The best part for me is that he says Yeeah and No. Ok, really only the Yeaah is a thrill as the No seems rather abused by now. I am not sure that he always uses them as intended, but you can now ask him a question and you will get a short answer and can act accordingly. Huzzah.

The only other little bit is that Soren and Juniper got into a full-fledged fight while standing atop some foam at Recess this afternoon. I am not sure what precipitated it, but they were going at one another. And when we separated them, they kissed and made up. Really. Except Juniper kisses with open mouth and Soren with pursed lips and you know how awkward that can be.

Aaww.

Last night the little gnome fell asleep in his crib with one hand poking out of the rails. I was resting on the little couch next to his bed, with my face turned towards his. His little hand was pressed against my lips. I had to move very slowly to extricate myself.

Back in the Saddle.

We managed to have a gathering at our place yesterday in which we used only 90% of our dishes. We did have to unbox more wineglasses, which I take as mark of the gatherings success. After we got married, we basically opened as many of the glasses we'd been given at our wedding as we could shelve in our little urban plot (Toto, we are not in Concord anymore) and have kept the rest in the wings waiting for space. I suppose after we finish doing the dishes from yesterday's Tea, we will have to reconfigure.
A friend of mine who was over with her daughter and husband remarked that this was the most adult party she had been to in a while. Her daughter is about a month younger than Soren and both were there, bringing out all of the toys that we had hastily stashed away before our guests arrived. Actually, Alma seemed more interested in the beer bottles, so she was definitely getting into the spirit. I suppose what Joanna meant was that we were at a party at which the critical mass of guests do not have children. And there was booze.
We did not necessarily manage total integration of the child-ed and childless; the kids stayed near the toys and their parents sort of near them, while the childless stayed near the booze and away from the kids, but there was mixing. In fact, Alma's relentless pursuit of the empties demanded it. And towards the end we made dinner with friends from whatever was in our refrigerator and it was delicious (facilitated by the fact that Jennifer is a chef. Knowing my place, I took over story reading duty.) After the L-H clan tucked themselves into a taxi and off to bed and we, the little gnome into his, I realized that the glasses scattered about with that last polite sip of alcohol remaining in their bowls had managed to capture and kill at least half of the fruit fly population that took up residence in our kitchen while we were on the other coast.
This morning we put on the little gnome's woolens for what is left of Mark Twain's summer and reunited with NayNay. Just like that we are back in saddle and the stirrups don't even need adjusting.

The Seductions of Suburbia.

My mother, the little gnome and I were walking to La Provence for the morning coffee &c. Whenever we walk to town, we pass a big yellow house on the corner of my parents' street (Elm) and Main Street (I know, I know). The house belongs to the family of a woman who was my college adviser in high school. Since her days of getting me and my schoolmates into college, she has had four (4!) children who are now between the ages of 11 and 4. When we passed by this morning, the youngest two were driving child-sized cars around the arc of their driveway.

We stopped and one of the kids invited Soren to ride in the passenger seat. He spent the next forty-five minutes alternating between the corvette (driven by the almost four year-old) and the jeep (driven by the six year old). The jeep was a lot faster. He was thrilled. His only frustration was that when the kids had to run inside to get dressed (up to then each had been wearing his and her pajamas) he could not figure out how to get the corvette started on his own. Eventually the eleven year-old took pity on him and took him for a spin.

I did not learn to drive until I was twenty-five and had moved to Berkeley to start my doctoral program. The little gnome's father still does not drive. Of course there is a difference between a toy jeep and a real one, but the toy one has a lot of the major components (key, gas, brake, steering wheel, radio) and these kids could drive them well enough that I let Soren ride as a passenger. After the cars, the oldest child took him to see their basement playroom and then the youngest wanted Soren to come see the upstairs playroom in which was a bunny. The little gnome kept trying to kiss the bunny, the way he kisses dogs, who then lick him back(and there were also two of the most well-behaved sleigh dogs roaming around). Bunnies, or at least this bunny, do not like to be kissed, as it turns out, nor do they lick back in return. Eventually, we managed to drag the little gnome from paradiso. It was a challenge though.

What was remarkable to me was how well all of the kids seemed to get along (although what is there to fight about with so many toys and the space for them?) and how careful they each were with Soren,even the youngest. The oldest was clearly and old hand at babies, but even the almost four year-old kept one arm around Soren while driving him around in the corvette.

For the past month we have been living in this little town and I have observed many parents and kids here. I grew up here too, so there is a degree of comfort. I remember thinking as a teenager that this town must be where people go to die of boredom. Luckily for me I was only here during school vacations at that age. I am sure that as these four kids on the corner grow older it will take more than a bunny and toy cars to keep them happy, safe, and entertained, but for now it is hard to picture a better life as a kid (and yes, I have seen American Beauty). A part of me thinks of the suburbs as the location of the voluntary lobotomy, but another part of me can see how much easier life is for parents here and how some of that ease actually frees you to devote your mental energy towards what you will.

Despite all of this, I cannot wait to return to urban bliss. Soon, soon...

Two birds...

The little gnome is leading my mother's dog around the house on her leash. No need to worry about her pooping on the rugs under his watch. He won't let her stand still long enough. And this project keeps him fully entertained.

Baby me.

I was young once too...


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Frontpiece of My Baby Album.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea:
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder--everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.

Wordsworth--written to his little daughter who lived in France

The Jungle Book.

We took the little gnome swimming in Walden Pond again. We came back just before dinner and I had not bothered to put any clothes on him after swimming, so he sat in his little red chair in his birthday suit. We have been eating out on the back porch at a table with an umbrella that opens and closes with a crank. The porch is on the second floor and there is a steep drop to the backyard through the railings.

Soren had finished what he wished to eat of his food in about a millisecond and started climbing out of his chair. Recently I have been putting him on top of the table rather than on the porch because then I can eat without having to jump up every few seconds to prevent him from hurling himself through the porch railings towards the river (WaWa!). He likes to turn the crank that opens and closes the umbrella. He will also sometimes eat a bit more from his position in the center of the table, which he would not do running around on the ground with no food before him.

So, my mother and I sat across from one another and the naked little gnome squatted in the center of the table cranking the handle of the umbrella around and around. After a few minutes, he stood up. And a moment later he peed. Onto the table. Next to my mother's plate. She was not pleased.

She yelled No. I hugged him and said You went Psp Psp Psp, Good Job! and took him off of the table and continued eating.

So, I am wondering, how do I find some balance between giving the little gnome his head and preventing him from becoming a total hellion? I do not want to spend all day telling him no and am trying to reserve it for important moments (like a few minutes after the pee incident, when he tried to jump off of the porch again) although it slips out all day long. Of course I do not want him to pee on tables, but I also did not want him to think that peeing was bad. My concern is less about this example in particular, but about how to set appropriate boundaries for a willful toddler without creating unnecessary battles or squashing the soul.

Ludite's Delight.

Over AIM

Peter: BRB

Jen: ?

Peter: Be right back

Jen: Oh, I thought it stood for *Burp*

Between the Rivers.

While walking the dogs and the little gnome around Nashawtuc Hill, my mother stops to gather an armful of tall purple blooms. She gathers flowers along these walks now and again, and places them in water in the kitchen. These changing nosegays greet me and elicit a sparkle of hope, relief even. The humanity in the simple act of gathering wild flowers, of replacing the wilting blooms with new clippings, offsets the many moments when my mother forgets the basics of getting through a day.

We drove my brother to the airport first thing this morning, and promptly lost our way on the return trip. I was frustrated to be navigating alone, especially when my mother sort of disconnected the gps. I know that I should be more patient, but it does not come naturally to me. Before we had reached home, my mother had worked herself into a deep sadness, describing herself as a nonentity. I tried to cheer her up, to remind her that she is a loved mother and grandmother, to ask for her help in keeping the little gnome entertained despite the length of time in the car. As is often the case with these moments, my mother is not easily distracted from her feelings of worthlessness.

In the afternoon we took the little gnome to Walden to cool off in the pond. I waded out with the little gnome up to my chest and helped him to float. A few minutes later, my mother swam past, ducking under the buoys marking off the lifeguarded area. I have never been quite sure what the little gnome makes of my mother, who in one moment plays with him on the floor, at his level, and in another moment moves on to something else almost oblivious to his presence. When she swam past, the little gnome clung to me, but reached out his pointer finger and repeated mama mama. He did not want her out so far. At his urging, she returned to stand near us and the little gnome flung his arms around her neck and clung to her instead. My mother waded along the circumference of Thoreau's pond carrying the little gnome. I floated on my back alongside them, kicking my feet through the water.

Salt of the Earth.

Uncle Dave is on a flight back home to San Francisco. After dropping him off at the airport, we immediately got lost on the return trip. It is going to be a long week without him.

I Heart New York, & other matters.

We, Peter, Soren, Uncle Dave, Grammie (my mom) and I, survived a whirlwind trip to the Big Apple. Due to forces beyond my control, I had to navigate with only one contact lens and no glasses.

We saw Sas marry Jason at the lovely Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, where we caught up with the parents of the lovely Eleuthera (who still eludes us, but come fall!).

We drove to Philadelphia to see my grandfather, who is 92 and looks amazing. The little gnome kept stealing his cane.

We caught up with the Raymonds over BBQ, Bea over Honey Bee cake, and Brenna at the playground.

And we took the little gnome to the Met, before getting into the car yet again and driving back home. Thick traffic and near starvation nearly derailed our return, but we revived ourselves at the delightful Cedar Street Restaurant in Sturbridge. You should try it.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Against all odds...

Preparations for canoeing.
Originally uploaded by jmss.

we survived a canoe trip, launched from my parents' backyard, which included Uncle Dave in the bow, my mother perched in the center jumpseat, and the the little gnome and me at the prow. Yes, we were riding rather low.

Here is the little gnome getting suited up for the outing.

Sage Advice.

The little gnome and I visited with my undergraduate mentor and her husband yesterday morning. It was, as always, wonderful to see them. Both are very easy with children in a sensible and comfortable manner--they provided real-life toys from their kitchen and garden (tupperware, a watering can, ropes) that allowed the little gnome to amuse himself while we talked and nibbled on brunch. While he did not actually say the words, an exchange with my adviser had Soren mimicking her intonation for Thank You (it came out something like "an" "ooh") every time they exchange a tupperware lid. At some point the conversation turned to parenting styles. My mentor offered the following:

You [the parent] really cannot hope to get everything right...

That is what therapy is for.

Is this what it takes?

Due to an extra-long afternoon nap, I had some trouble getting the little gnome to sleep at a civilized hour (read: early enough for me to have some free time before turning in myself). It seemed as though he was down, or at least content to lie down awake and talk to his teddy bear, so I left and went downstairs. I heard him wake up on my way down, but thought I would wait for a few minutes before going back. During those minutes, Uncle Dave returned from his mini-break and informed me that Soren was awake. I suggested Dave wash his hands and then go put Soren to sleep. He did this and returned a few minutes later with a victorious smile.

I am the better mother, he proclaimed.

Something in his unsteady gait tipped me off and after looking a bit closer I realized that he is completely wasted. Perhaps the booze brings out his mother hen.

Network Power.

Yesterday, we caught up with the author of Network Power, David Singh Grewal, and the lovely Daniela Cammack and dapper Siddarth Mohandas. Only Siddarth and the little gnome were unfazed by the crushing humidity. After running around D & D's backyard in his birthday suit, we put some clothes on Soren and took him to an ice cream social in the yard, where David chased him around while we caught up with the others and ate lemon sorbet scooped by senior university administrators.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.