It's my party

I'm a sick puppy. No, really--i'm sick. And  i haven't been sick in what seems like years now, so this flu-like discomfort makes me want to cower with my head under the sheets and cry. But i can't because it's the weekend and the kids are home from school but Big A--my crucial partner parent-- is off working a late night shift. And my phone is dead so nobody knows or can come around with soup. Or hug the kids. Because my babies didn't get hugged very much as i spent a lot of time trying not to hold them and breathe my germs on them too much. 

But i think Baby A is sick anyway. I've put her to bed five times this evening and each time she's woken up having barfed on herself from coughing. So that's five times i've changed the sheets. Although, i gave up on giving her a bath after the second time and instead merely sponge her down, change her jammies, pat her all over with hand-sanitizer and call it clean. She's upstairs now coughing in her sleep and whimpering without waking up because she's frustrated that she can't fully fall asleep. That in itself is enough to make a person cry. 

Li'l A is in bed after what's got to be the lamest weekend ever--one where he tried to wait on me: Do you want Vicks? When your throat lozenges are gone JUST tell ME, I'LL get them for you! And played with "his baby" for hours on end while i mostly sat limp and dizzy on the floor. He also entertained the low appetite baby while i spoon-fed her mashed up fruit --in retrospect, i really wish we hadn't done that.

But all the baby barfing gave me a guilt-free pass to hold her all i want. And while i'm ready to cry from exhaustion, it also makes me laugh when i get to her room and sure enough, she's sitting there in barfbarfybarf--but when she sees me come in, turn on the lights, and pick her up: she's ready to party. 

I want my Amma too.

_

TODAY

Li'l one

we're the first ones awake and we

walk to school in feathery snow

you glance up at me all twinkly eyes

and warm, knitted hat: "My feet have a beat

and now so do my teeth."

Baby

I scramble you some eggs and cheese

and sing you, "There was an Old Lady who Swallowed a Fly"

I really wish i knew what you think that song is really about

because you bop along to it, yelling periodically,

with most approving enthusiasm: "Eat CAT!!"

Love

you drive yourself to the doctor

i've turned uncharacteristically quiet

so you run your palm over my hair, my shoulders

the knife is minutes away from you. But it's me you ask:

"Baby, are you alright?"

_

He dreams of lesbians

I woke up extra early this morning to call college admin in England and intuiting my absence in our bed, Big A's subconscious threw up this dream:

For some undeterminable reason* i was mad at him so i invited all the lesbians i knew over for a huge party and served vegan tomato-spinach soup. So that when Big A turned up wanting to eat some Honey Bunches (HB being his favorite cereal) there were no bowls to be had! The lesbians had taken all the bowls! It made him feel very unloved! Waa!

This kept me giggling all day because i would keep flashing back to this woebegone look on his face when he was telling me that "but there were no bowls!" 

And i really don't want to get into the gritty analysis of what "Honey Bunches" and "bowls" imply in the context of the much feared "lesbians." And if you're thinking this has something to do with this--Just. Don't. Even go there.

_

* And of course i resourcefully (and ever so usefully) asked him *what* he had done in his dream to make me so mad at him. Because i'm so much more rational these days and don't get mad at him anymore for stuff he did in *my* dreams. 

_

Illusions. O Bummer.

My cousin N sent me the article titled, "Obamania: The factory of illusions," in an attempt to temper my Obama euphoria. It makes a fair enough request, although much of it (and this could simply be the the effect of translation) seemed unconvincingly and ploddingly argued and is frequently fallacious. The gist of the essay being that this recent election is not "the most relevant single event in 2 (sic) million years of human existence."

I take the view from my sometimes favorite philosopher, who incisively argues that 

[the] reason Obama's victory generated such enthusiasm is not only that, against all odds, it really happened: it demonstrated the possibility of such a  thing happening. The same goes for all great historical ruptures--think of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Although we all knew about the rotten inefficiency of the Communist regimes, we didn't really believe that they would disintegrate--like Kissinger, we were all victims of cynical pragmatism. Obama's victory was clearly predictable for at least two weeks before the election, but it was still experienced as a surprise.

Full text from LRB here. Arguably, there is a translation lag in the latter quote as well, but it's one that is swept away by the sheer energetic conviction of SZ.

_

I love my husband.

Just really, really, really love, love, love.

Because most people think i dote on our kids, i surprise myself when i admit that in a non Ayelet Waldman sense, i love him more than i love our kids even. In a fire, i'd, obv, grab the tots first because they're so small and helpless and sleep so soundly and Big A jolly well save his own butt and a few others besides. And yes, my kids are delicious and funny, and so squeezy as to seem boneless, and their eyes are the shiniest orbs in the universe and their laughter is the trippiest ever...

But the best days are the ones when Big A is off from work and the kids are off at (baby or elementary) school and we get to go back to bed and hang out and get brunch and nap some more and lie in bed dreaming of big plans and undertaking huge house projects before the monkeys return at three.

The only thing ruining our "naptimes" is our proclivity to make babies if we so much as look at each other. Knowing how much i dislike hormonal contraception, Big A is getting a vasectomy this week. The "little snip-snip" as our friends call it. And the best part: I didn't make any suggestions, throw out any hints. He came up with it calmly, lovingly, by himself. No talk of sacrifice, just how very much he loves me, how my happiness is the most important thing in his life.

We do make exceedingly cute babies though, and there's an irrational part of me that's sad that i will never be pregnant again. But hopefully, there will be more babies--when our adoption papers come through.

_

Cached up

Where I’ve been in the last couple of months:

*Knocking on doors for the Obama campaign.

* Reading e-mails from the Obama campaign. (And consequently, developing a bit of a crush on David Plouffe.)

*Attending Obama Rallies.

*Hosting Presidential debate parties (okay just one, no--two).

*Donating money to the Obama campaign.

*Making phone calls for the Obama campaign.

*Facebooking for the Obama campaign.

*Giving my internet time to the Obama campaign. (This was different from donating my time. No one asked me to do this and it benefited no one. It mostly involved me refreshing fivethirtyeight.com, and fuming every time another Palin story broke.)

*Attending an election-night dinner. 

*Watching the actual results with an impromptu bunch.

* Celebrating the election victory.

* Watching several self-congratulatory episodes of Bill Maher.

*Giving more internet time and leaving comments on a bunch of blogs.

Read a bunch of books when the election sent me too close to the brink of insanity. But everything else just had to wait. Including stuff like writing to the admin secretary at the university to figure out remaining paperwork, and unpacking my clothes. We moved here in August? That’s right.

_

THREE WEEKS TO GO

Showing eyes phosphorescent

in fear, muddied with

dread lie our

heavy heads

our throats

are thunderclouds

for fear breaks

off—

flakes. And this October

is shrill silence

as bats cringe

inches from the skin.

_