Where Are You Tonight, Sweet Marie?

My awesome cousin (ok, they're all awesome in their own way, but I'm talking about a specific one here) is a writer and he gave me his manuscript to read when I saw him this summer. I'm so honored that he shared it with me in the first place, I know what a delicate thing it is to share a work-in-progress. There's no way anyone's seeing mine until I've got at least one more draft under my belt. Or a whole different story (ha ha. Ha?). ANYWAY. I just finished it yesterday and. Holy bones. Is it good. It's a real, amazing, funny, interesting grown-up book with a plot and everything. And I cried. Not out of envy and thoughts that I'll never do anything like that--sure these feelings passed through me because he did what I keep not doing--but the tears were because the story made me cry. I can't wait until it's published so I can sing its praises from the treetops and rejoice when it's chosen by whatever huge book club will replace The Oprah's when she's done. I am seriously inspired now.

I've been reading A.S. Byatt's The Children's Book and it's as intensely great a piece of work as she's ever done. I'll be sad when it's over. A theme in it that really resonates with me, something she describes so well, is the lives of mothers and how their need to work introduces a competitive edge into the family, an air of resentment. The work itself becomes a sort of favorite child. Of course I don't have the book with me to pull up the quote I want to share that perfectly distills this particularly feminine phenomenon, but I'll come back here and post it when a get a chance. Suffice to say that as a woman and a writer and a mother herself, Byatt knows what's up. There are always exceptions, but historically it's not the same for men with children. Please know that I don't mean "Oh it's so hard to be a writer with children, you could never understand, woe and damnation, etc." especially since I haven't really written since my son was born and, like, he still tries to get a meal off of any woman who holds him close to her chest so it's not like he's old enough to be proprietary. I just mean that there's something about when you are passionate about something, it's hard to do it without it in some way being at the expense of the people you love. Oh fiction, you and your turning a mirror on society.

I get to see my niece for the first time tomorrow. So there!

Your Heart is a Strange Little Orange to Peel

So our Red Sox will not be in the playoffs this year. It's been a tough season with the absurd amount of injuries and such, but it really looked like they might rise above the odds for awhile there. Oh, well. We long-suffering Sox fans have been spoiled this decade. My heart's not broken this time around, it just wasn't our year. I'll still watch the remaining games and I hope they keep playing their butts off because baseball for baseball's sake is still... baseball. And I know it's probably the most boring sport after golf but that doesn't make me love it any less.

Another thing I love: as HR still wakes up for a feeding during the early early morning hours (usually around 4), and probably will continue to do this at least until we start him on solids (which is shockingly soon), I've discovered one big upside and it's the feeling of going back to bed after returning him to his crib. Settling back in and stretching, the way it makes me aware of all my limbs, it's such a luxurious feeling. Plus I can count on a good 2-3 hours of sleep to come. My dreams since he's been born have been so messed up, I won't even try to write about them, but still, the promise of more slumber is a mighty heady thing. I'm pro-sleep in case you didn't notice.

My latest thing now that we've gotten him to have a fairly consistent bedtime is to work on gradually breaking bad nighttime habits. First stop on that train: end my dependence on nursing as a sleep tool. Usually he falls asleep on the boob and we're good to go. But I know this is frowned upon for several good reasons, so two nights ago I fed him, then took him upstairs to do the nighttime routine and rocked him to sleep without additional nursing. There were some tears, but it worked. Last night he was overtired from lack of an afternoon nap (oh yeah, that's a whole other can of snakes) and fell asleep when I fed him. So it'll come and go like that for awhile, but I'll keep at it. Next thing after that: ending nighttime swaddling. Once that's accomplished the ultimate goal is to get him to go in the crib while he's still awake and put himself to sleep. I can't think of the endgame right now though, it's too frustrating. So I'll concentrate on one step at a time.

GAHH I can't wait until this hot and muggy weather is done for good. Talking about the weather is completing the hat trick of boring blogging (after dreams and baby routines) sooooo.... fin. For now.

Not That I'm NOT Keeping One...

When I need a shot of inspiration, I go on flickr and do searches for things that I'm feeling nostalgic about or I think might generally make me happy. Often I'll type in cities that I love and see what comes up. It's fun to get a look at them throught different people's eyes, and sometimes you even spot someone you know. This morning I typed in "Portland Maine" and it really just made me long for a visit. Portland is the bomb at all times, and it's home to several of my most favorite people (you know who you are), but it's the best in the fall. I'm dreaming of a weekend trip, though I have to say it's going to be tough to pull off now that Mike works weekends. I suppose HR and I could go up ourselves, but 1) I'd feel bad going without Mike because he loves it too and 2) I'm phobic about driving on highways. I'm not proud of this and I don't intend to be ruled forever by my fear, but I get panic attacks traveling at fast speeds, mostly when I'm alone but even when I have a passenger. Argh. There's always the train and bus. But I want to go as a family. We'll find a time, if not this fall then next. But like I said it's great any season.

Anyway, when I was pregnant, I used flickr to browse for maternity shots every day. I'm still enamored of other people's big bellies (I like to look, I'm not one of those hands-on people), everyone's so unique when it comes to their pregnancies and I think they're all beautiful. That little experiment is what led me to this week's Blog of the Week: Cherry Menlove. Her blog is like a fantasy, I still can't believe she's a real person. But I'm pretty sure she is. And she's got gorgeous twins who were born shortly after my dude was. And she's British. Very cool, very uplifting. Her blog always makes me smile, and sometimes cry.

While I'm on the subject, I linked the wrong blog last week in haste. What should have been on here was My Favorite and MY Best. No offense to the writer I linked in error, it just wasn't the one I described. You know, I've noticed my attention to detail--which used to be one of my major selling points as a human being--has waned over the last, oh, five months. I'm hoping once I return to full nights of sleep it'll come back. If not, just one more thing HR will owe me for when he's a big boy. Not that I'm keeping a list or anything.

Sing a Song of Five

Our boy is five months old today! Everybody told me that these infant months fly by, and everybody was right. He's almost a half-year old - I can't quite comprehend that. Sometimes I wish I could just slow him down, but the developments are way too much fun.

Saturday I hosted a shower for my girl who is due to give birth in a few weeks, and it was a very nice afternoon catching up with a bunch of ladies I rarely see, nibbling on treats and sipping on a baby-bathtub's worth of pumpkin and other fall brews. It was a tad warm for a fall-themed shower (the hot cider was barely touched) but we gathered around the air conditioner and passed around the two babies in attendance while the Mama-to-Be opened her gifts. Can't wait to meet the new baby when she/he's fully cooked!

That night I stayed up way past my bedtime so I could see Mike for a few minutes (he worked his butt off this weekend), and the little sprout decided to wake up way early yesterday morning, so we spent the day inside, chilling in our jammies. I hope the baby enjoyed himself, because as long as Mike will be working anyway, this will be how the boy and I will be spending the majority of our Sundays. The lazy Sunday is a beautiful thing and I've perfected its observance.

In between trying to keep a quiet vibe and get Mr. Man to take two separate afternoon naps (and failing miserably) there was an Arrested Development marathon on IFC. Perfect. Sundays were made for such things, if you're not into football. Sure I own the entire series on DVD and I haven't even watched it, but I know it's there if I need to. In general I'm not a big buyer of things, but I do collect art that I love and this qualifies. Ditto Veronica Mars and Freaks and Geeks. IFC has also been running Freaks and Geeks in its entirety, and I've been revisiting that and marveling at what an amazing, amazing show it is. It's note-perfect. They ran the episode the other night where Freak leader Daniel talks to Geek leader Harris and I believe it's one of the best written and performed scenes in TV history. It's easy to see why Stephen Lea Sheppard didn't go on to much more (aside from a memorable turn in The Royal Tenenbaums) because he so perfectly inhabits the role of Harris.

Anyway, I'm overdue for the first pump o' the mornin' so I'll go take care of that but Happy Banned Books week! Go exercise your intellectual freedom and read your favorite (it's probably on the list).

Estrogen Represent!

Family walk was thwarted this morning because SOMEbody--I won't say who--thought 5:30 was an appropriate time to wake up instead of the usual 6:30 (or later if we're lucky). Mr. Anonymous soon realized that a little more snoozing was a capital idea, so the resulting extra couple of hours put us off our schedule. But hey whatever, sleep takes precedence these days for all of us. It just reaffirms my belief though that babies are born saboteurs, that they're all part of a secret conspiracy to keep their mamas as soft and fleshy as possible for as long as they can. Damn them and their comfort agenda.

A thing about music on my mind: again. Something you may not know about me is that I don't like many female vocalists. That sounds unfair and shitty and anti-feminist, I know, but it's an acknowledged preference. I specifically don't like many female voices of the singer-songwriter variety and I can say exactly why: I don't care for endless vibrato, and earnestness (from either sex) makes me uncomfortable. And I have a penchant for male singers (Antony, Jake Shears, Mika, etc.) who can nail a falsetto. What is that all about? I've decided to start keeping a list of the women whose voices I do like, and it turns out that all hope is not lost. Here are some xx singers I really enjoy:

-Kim Deal
-Regina Spektor (in small doses)
-Sharon Jones
-Dolly Parton
-kd lang (probably my all-time favorite voice, actually)
-Johnette Napolitano
-Loretta Lynn
-Tanya Donnelly
-Ann Wilson
-Joni Mitchell (to be honest though I merely tolerate the vocals because her songwriting is so good)
-Beyonce
-Imogen Heap

There's a whole bunch of big-mouth Broadway ladies I'm forgetting too. Was there a point to this list other than to prove to myself that I'm not sexist? Well, no. But thanks for sticking around (if you did).

This weekend I'm hosting a pumpkin-themed baby shower and I reckon it should be a lovely time.

I Like to Move It

I've reached a weight plateau: all the weight that baby-popping and breastfeeding alone was going to take off is taken off, I think, and now it's time to either give up nachos/cake/beer, or start ramping up the workouts. I don't believe in giving up things unless it's strictly required for health reasons, so exercise it is. The way our schedules are these days, the only realistic solution is early morning walks together, so we plan to start those tomorrow. We won't take them every day, because hanging out in bed with the baby is one of the best things ever. A few days a week is a good start. Someday I'll get back to my desired level of fitness, but it's pointless to be in a rush. Who cares about a couple of pounds when I've got a sweet baby boy already growing so fast? It's not like I make my living by being a model. So tomorrow we haul ourselves out of bed and walk. It's on. I'll let you know how it goes.

Work beckons, so instead of the long angry screed I had planned on the subject of my sucky evening commute, I'll wrap up this pep talk to myself and call it an entry.

Born Nerdish

Oh, how beautiful is the wretched world following a night of unbroken sleep! Dear HR, whatever you did last night, please do it again. Love, your (relatively) rested Mama

My brain feels accordingly shiny and I've got academic nostalgia which happens this time every year. I was just realizing that you know I'm a lifetime ultra-nerd because all my fond memories of my undergrad years are based in the academic aspect. Like sitting in Shakespeare class just drinking it in... oh man. I could have made out with that big fat book of Collected Works. And workshop classes. Being an English major with a Writing (vs. Literature) slant, I took approximately one kajillion workshop classes and though I probably got really sick of them after awhile, I long to take one again. Someday when the bean's a little more grown I'll join a writer's group.

Some of you know that I have another blog that I started as a grad school project and sort of got really into it and kept it going for the past - is it six years now? Wow. It's a passion project of mine, with a focus on talking about young women's sexuality in young adult literature, but that theme has expanded as time went on to include lots of related subjects. I've been pretty bad at updating it recently but I can't fathom giving it up because it's my way of staying connected with a certain community and from time to time I really have a fire under me to write in it. I expect to update before this week is up. So, that's a thing.

In blog-o'-the-week news: I regularly read a few design blogs. I'm not sure why, my eye is not one for design. My attraction to them can be attributed to equal parts admiration, love of eye candy and envy of people with beautifully decorated homes. These women are talented and sincere and give me a lot of ideas that I quickly forget. The other day I discovered my new favorite design blog: my favorite and my best. She's got a great eye too, but I love her more for her foul, hilarious mouth. Her writing is the perfect antidote for when the other ones leave me feeling like I'm destined to be forever drab, and her un-precious irreverence is refreshing.

Well kids, I've got to make hay and take advantage of this sharp feeling while it lasts. Happy Tuesday!