Aprilish

I think the New England Journal of Medicine soon will be publishing a piece on Steve. His case bears so many remarkable features that I cannot help but feel that humanity should be the beneficiaries of his unique recovery experience. Take, for example, the fact that this morning he was able to toast a bagel, slice wafers from both a red onion and a tomato, liberally smear the bagel with cream cheese, and arrange pieces of lox just so before sprinkling a generous tablespoon of capers on top of it all. He then proceeded to boil water, french press coffee, dose it heavily with a chocolate caramel  concoction and somehow managed to transport both bagel and beverage from the kitchen to his office without dropping them or scalding himself. And yet even the idea of performing the arguably simpler task of slapping peanut butter and jelly between two slices of wheat bread and throwing it in a bag with a juice box leaves him pale and trembling. Or, for another, there is his unusual restriction of motion that enables him to go downstairs to play xbox but prevents him from going upstairs to put Patrick to bed. Truly remarkable. I just hope the combined efforts of the global medical community might enable them to puzzle it out amongst themselves. Meanwhile, his strength and perseverance during this time of adversity is, naturally, an inspiration to us all.

Ok, how about this six word story?

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

That's Hemingway, of course, but isn't it great? Didn't that justify the clicking? Or, if you are feeling a little French, I offer this line which always pleased me:

Ronsard me celebrait du temps que j'etais belle

That is part of a poem in which Ronsard is telling some nice young woman that - just think! - one day when she is old and faded she will be able to look back upon this poem and know that Ronsard himself once thought she was beautiful.  What an ass he must have been.

For the first time ever I won an NCAA basketball pool. Me. I won it. First place. And a fairly sizeable pool it was. I would be prouder of myself if I had done anything other than gone through the brackets clicking favorites and refusing to let Duke get past the first round but there it is - the secret to my success.

So let's see...          

I think being a three month old twin must sort of suck. You get all of the disadvantages of having to wait your turn with none of the much lauded built-in companionship. Caroline and Edward, to name just two, have no idea the other one exists. Usually, I mean. It is true that this week for the very first time they actually looked at each other like they meant it. Edward said Ahgoo and Caroline blew a raspberry and then they went back to looking at me again. It was like neighbors introducing themselves in a condo parking lot - pleasant but noncommittal.

Edward is absolutely adorable. He started laughing about a week ago and now everything cracks him up. Covering my face with a blanket and saying "Wheeeeeere's Edward"? Hilarious. Being naked and flown around the bathroom like an albatross? Hysterical. He is also ticklish on his back, his neck, and his cheeks so when I am not amusing him with my thought-provoking antics I can always prompt a giggle with basic physical comedy. I wish I could capture one of his face-splitting muppet grins on film but every time the camera comes out he just stares at it with puzzled concern. Caroline, on the other hand, has only laughed one time but she looooooves the camera. Nothing lights her up Tokyo-style like having her picture taken. So I have a million cutebaby photos of Caroline and an equal number of guy-on-the-street-asked-opinion-by-television-news-crew-paralyzed-by-self- consciousness pictures of Edward. I am sitting on my hands right now to keep from posting examples of either or both, since I am trying to see if I can make it through an entire post without slapping up photos of my children.

When they are not being photographed for my entertainment they are doing normal baby things. Edward never did roll over again but he is working on it. I had to move him out of the Moses Basket since he is tall enough that he was having to bend his knees in there. When he unbent them his head touched the top and his feet touched the bottom and he would start to rotate face downwards into the loose smooshy mattress. Which seemed dangerous to me, what can I say? He sleeps in his crib now and I rolled some  receiving blankets up to create the illusion of a smaller space for him. Not that he cares because he just goes to sleep whenever and wherever the urge takes him. I cannot count the number of times I have returned to get a recently bathed Edward off the bathroom floor having first moved Caroline only to find Edward sound asleep already. It's a rather nice habit in a baby.

Caroline can traverse surprising distances while flat on her back by  moving her feet and scooting herself backwards. She keeps winding up under the couch. She continues to stay up later than Edward  and she continues to sleep through the night.  Right now she is lying on a Boppy in the living room making spitty airplane noises for her own amusement. She has been doing this for the past forty-five minutes. Another rather nice habit in a baby - self-sufficiency.

Patrick just came out of his bedroom, choking with laughter. The reading in bed thing has been tacitly accepted and I went so far as to buy him a clip lamp today at Target. Usually he stays in his room, rebelling by reading after hours, but tonight he had to share something funny, something SO FUNNY, that he had just discovered in Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. I still have no idea what it was; he was laughing too hard to be understood. But I am shimmying with glee - MRS PIGGLE-WIGGLE. Patrick is reading fiction. I have selfishly longed for the time when Patrick would start to read my favorite books (the Mrs Piggle-Wiggle in question is from my private collection) and all it took was leaving stacks of novels on his floor and then implying that they were NOT to be read. It's like Br'er rabbit. I am a super genius.

And, finally (I have Battlestar Galactica to watch), speaking of super geniuses I think Edward might be the smartest baby in the whole world. I say, "Kiss, Edward" and he sticks out his tongue. Feeling a little French, indeed, but STILL. Smartest baby ever. 

Comments

[EM]

Galactica! Galactica! Am only a third of the way through Season Three, but spent easily twelve hours last week taking BSG trivia questions on Facebook. I second (third? fifty-first?) the request for baby pictures.

[bethany1023]

Battlestar fans unite! - fear not for the final season though, there's always the chance that Caprica won't suck.

Lovely post as always, and YES, please add photos!

[shannon]

You know good and well not a soul on the Internet wants you to refrain from slapping up those photos. Your prose is lovely and all, but a picture is worth at least a few words...

[Nicole]

We need pictures!!

[Julie]

Hi Julia,

For Edward, just sew his sleep shirts shut. It worked for my daughter, she has eczema and she can really scratch:)

Take care,
Julie

[Damsel]

I agree with the other comments--i thought you'd cave by the end, too. we won't grow tired of pictures of the beautiful babies any time soon.

[The Yummy Mummy Cooks Gourmet]

Hi Julia -

What is up with Battle Star Gallactica? My husband just got like the next 34 episodes on Netflix and I am thinking of coming up with excuses to clean the kitchen just to avoid it.

Please give me the scoop. And just found you and think you blog is very funny!

Kim