to the moon
April 29, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 11 Comments
we’re in a breakfast rut, cheerios crunched on the floor every morning, the idea of toast wearisome. ideas?
shadows and gray light in the house, the sky falling back into night, the air already sticky, the smell of grass and honeysuckle suspended, swimming. we turned on the air this week, filling the house with cold, the powder of pollen stopping on the storm windows as i look out at it without puffy eyes, an itch on the chin, the nose. the boys, the girl who loves to sit in my lap and swing into the sky, these sleep in the gray twilight that comes in blocks and beams through the curtains. jude has sand in his bed because he took his park worn shoes off while sitting on it. summer and sandy places in the house have come to us again. soon, they will take baths every night, their feet red with carolina leaving prints on the floor of the tub.
come and get it
April 28, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | Leave a Comment
we’re having a spring give-away on royal buffet! tell us why girls love spring and see what happens . . .
overheard while lawrence waved that baton
April 26, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 1 Comment
“wow, look at her lips! shiny . . .”
“i like these yellow suits tonight. last time they wore blue.”
“why do you think his hair is alive, mom?”
“check out that saxophone.”
“mom, you need a dress like that!”
“look at that sword!” “it’s not a sword, it’s that thing for conducting.”
“i’m uncle ben on guitar, and henry is miss carol on piano.” “i am NOT miss carol.”
“i like his suit. is that a vest?”
“ugh, i really don’t like her.”
“look at that! she must be the queen of the white suits.”
“i really want you to watch me do a wild dance.”
“hang on, i need a costume like that.”
gleaming like silver
April 21, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 5 Comments
i made a terrible dinner tonight but ernie and i were both in good spirits and it didn’t bother us at all that the kids looked at the dish in the middle of the table that was almost entirely made of brown rice and lentils and were sorely disappointed and even insulted that this is what i was feeding them for dinner. honey sandwiches followed, although i liked the lentil mush, no, really, i did. i don’t know where my intelligent mind wanders when i start making meals that are almost entirely made of brown rice and lentils. “shred some cheese and mix it in!” i think. i’m sorry, boys, ernie, that i do these things to you. at least it was not an oatmeal walnut burger.
the trees are nearly green through the windows, over the shed the sky is gone, all green with summer on its mind. there’s also a lot of pink on our street, everyone dressed for some gatsby party, pink, white, fluttery.
greene photographs, freestyle
April 19, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 3 Comments
here to announce, though somewhat belatedly, the illustrious GREENE PHOTOGRAPHS.
i expect three cheers and much hip, hip hooraying for my talented ernie and his newest adventure! sometime this week he will say goodbye to his day job and start out on his own. i’m very proud of him, of his hard work, and of his keen eye, proud to call him my own jolly good fellow. your turn!
peace comes dropping slow
April 18, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 3 Comments
the man at the park held the string to the kite, the one that bobbed in loops and dives, another behind him in the grass, stretching skyward, its tail flicking defiantly, red and yellow rebellion close at hand. the girls at the park swing their dolls in the infant swings, dolls not heavy enough to swing smoothly, jerking them back and up and back again.
it’s spring, the air green and pollinated, those of us who sneeze too much thinking twice before the opening of windows, the sleep in the grass. the dogwood in the back, the one that twists around another tree and fights for for the top most spread for branches, this dogwood begins its bloom, later than others, it seems. the rain comes for days and nights and days again, the front yard needs mowing, i think of planting things and hoping for growing and blooming and picking.
nine bean rows will i have there, a hive for the honeybee. . .
while eating crackers
April 17, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 1 Comment
henry has learned to whistle. it started out a raspy noisy blowing noise and now he can whistle tunes. he is very pleased with himself for having this new ability and when i first heard him doing it and said something about it to him he could not whistle because his smile was getting in the way. today i heard him whistling pirate music while building a pirate island out of legos. i like to whistle, too, and have only not been embarrassed when caught whistling since i’ve become a mother and don’t really feel overly embarrassed about many things at all anymore. i love it that he is now a whistler. years of whistling to come, henry, i’m so happy with you.
things seem to be looking up around here since everyone is getting over their sore throats, coughs, colds, allergies (crossed fingers). jude has ear infections in both ears, and we stood in the pharmacy line for a very, very, very long time (at dinnertime, to boot) to prove it. sigh. jude loves medicine, though, so it is easy to get him to drink it, especially since it is administered with a dropper. yesterday we played outside with new playground balls and everyone was in the happiest moods seen in our house in what seems like a long time.
roofs of tin
April 11, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 2 Comments
happy
jude giving me two dimes “to buy coffees with” (wishing twenty cents bought plural coffees)
arms full of white flowers filling every possible container in the house
all of the love for royal buffet going around (thanks, we’re having the grandest time!)
blue goblets and funky indian brass from ernie’s grandparents
henry’s large drawings
jude, on tiptoe, attempting to catch a robin
netflix
sad
puking, coughing, teething . . . at the same time
nights of frequently interrupted sleep
being allergic to all of these white flowers that are in every possible container in the house (sneezing commences)
ernie’s grandparents’ house, empty
letter to lola when she is six months of age
April 9, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 8 Comments
oh, lola! you are six months old today, half of a year, halfway to the first eating of cake! you will crawl before long, walk all too soon, you will learn to use words and to sing and we will eavesdrop on your play when you are not aware.
you are the most delicious baby i know, perhaps have ever known, because you smile nearly always and rarely complain. poppy says that you are the only person in the house who is never crabby and he is right. i wish we all woke up in the morning happy to see everyone around us the same way that you do.
you have not eaten ordinary food much but you seem to want to eat it, watching us eat at the table, your mouth open wide. i gave you a small squish of avocado and you are my only child who likes the wondrous avocado. you may only like it because you are a girl and it seems that girls are supposed to like guacamole.
your brother jude insists that you must not grow up, that you stay a baby always, “because i love her!” he says, and he does love you, very much. jude was sad to learn that when he is grown up that you will be grown up, too, and that he will not be able to carry you around because he very much wants to carry you around.
your brother henry calls you “sunshine” and “sweetheart” and all manner of sweet-nothing nicknames. you laugh and smile when you see him and sometimes i catch you watching him from across the room as he plays.
you are always watching and learning, your brothers being your favorite people to watch because they never stop moving. the cat intrigues you because you don’t know what a cat is yet. if your poppy is in the room you only have eyes for him and sometimes, when you kiss him with that sloppy baby mouth of yours, we can see you anticipate the prickle of his beard.
a year ago you were growing inside of me and i wondered who you would be, how i would manage caring for another little life, what it would be like to kiss on your little neck and watch you watching me as you nursed. and now i know these things and you seem like you’ve always been here with us, who you are and what you mean to us being more than we could have anticipated. thank you, lola, for being who you are. i love being your mother.
thank you God, for lola, keep her safe and lovely always, and help us to show your love and power to her as she grows.
like an ocean, mysterious and dark
April 8, 2008 | Filed Under ordinary | 4 Comments
noel and troy and their beautiful children were here for a week, staying at melanie’s so i didn’t see them enough. a week is short when you leave the house to rot and pretend to be free of care for that many days. it’s impossible, still, that it’s been nearly six years and all of these babies since we’ve seen each other, impossible after hundreds of breakfasts eaten together. and then they go again, for who knows how long. please quit your job and sell your house and move here, noel and troy and beautiful children. it will be great, i promise.