Carmen in the morning

I've been finding a lot of joy in Carmen lately. Probably my favorite time of the day is the first thing in the morning when I go to get her up. I call out "Good morning!" and her little head pops up, startled and still delirious. Her eyes are puffy and blinking, and she's not altogether awake, but I lift her out by the armpits and settle down into our big marshmallow rocking chair. I snuggle Carmen up to me and rock while she eats and eats, eyes closed, growing more comfortable with each suck, feeling around my arms and shirt and face with her free hand. She is so funny and fat, and as we switch sides she starts to wake up a little bit, so when she's finally had enough she drops off, looks at me, and after a minute, calls out "Gah." It is such a sweet little voice.

Then we talk for a little bit, her calling out and me trying to copy her sounds, and we smile at each other as we study and admire each other's hands and facial feathers (Carmen is much more tactile in her study). At some point a diaper must be changed, and then the cares and restlessness of the day begin to intrude - next door another not-so-little voice starts singing or meowing or talking, and from that point on Olivia's conversation (often one-sided) monopolizes the day. But those early moments that so define the irreplicable bond between baby and mommy are sacred. Those are the ones I keep and ponder in my heart.

Saddest picture ever

We all feel like this sometimes.

Olivia

I just put Olivia down for her nap. She didn't want to go down. We did the usual routine: read a couple of books, put her blankies in in the right order, put down her kitties in the right spot, then tried to caber-toss her into the crib ("the big throw"), but she started fussing. So I just picked her up and snuggled her for a while.

How can someone I've seen and hugged every day of her life be so independent of me? I birthed her and I've tended her constantly, never going more than a few hours without seeing her. But as I held her against me I tried to remember the way that squirmy little newborn felt, or even that shy baby - it wasn't the gangly little girl whose warmth I felt against my chest. The long, black eyelashes, the fingers that were slightly sticky with peanut butter residue, the long, skinny legs with light smears and bruises from childhood's bumps, even the smell - this wasn't my baby; even more, this wasn't mine. She's her own person, as individual and as far from my control as any other being that ever lived. She doesn't have to think about me or love me - she still needs me, but she doesn't have to love me. I'm glad she does, because I have to love her - morals and conscience aside, I simply can't help it.

This Little Piggie

This evening while out on our constitutional, Olivia came upon a patch of ants. A few yards later she started whimpering about her "woast beef."

Steven caught on quicker than I did: she'd been bitten on her middle toe.

Kids are so funny and so cute.

I love music, Mommy

I've meant to blog about this for a while: I am a piano teacher.

I absolutely love teaching piano. I love getting to talk to other people during the day. I love watching kids progress. I love feeling like I'm making a difference and training new piano players, since I guess I was brought up to believe that piano playing is an essential element of being well-rounded - at the very least, it's extremely useful.

But, I think the best part about teaching piano is that it's made Olivia interested in it. She likes to sit at the piano with a book in front of her and play on the keys. She's also picked up a few other choice phrases that she likes to coach us with while we play piano:

• All cows eat grass! (over and over, giggling)
• This is C (playing a note that is rarely C)
• One more time. That's perfect.
• Play this measure.
• Take the repeat.
  
• I'm putting a star right here.
• What note is this? (pointing at the sheet music) It's G!

She also likes to put stickers on any and all sheet music (as my students do when they pass off a song).

I guess when she starts repeating, "Why won't you rotten kids practice?!?" I'll know it's time to quit.

Quarantined

This morning I woke up with the flu.

And when I was giving Olivia a bath, I noticed that she appears to have chicken pox. For the second time since we vaccinated her.

So, the TV will be watching my children today, since it's the only thing we won't infect.

I'm alive!

I don't feel like blogging but I know it's been a while. Here's the worst update I hope I ever write.

We just got back from a vacation to Venice Beach. Olivia loved playing in the sand. The family reunion was fun. My mom put a lot of work into planning it, so I hope she feels appreciated - she did a great job. We saw body builders and film students and a guy dressed as an ear. The ocean was cold. The kids were good on the plane. They charmed everyone and on the way home Carmen was so cute that a lady in back of us took her picture.

I broke my tooth on a BLT sandwich - it felt so much like those dreams where my teeth all break that I had to keep feeling it with my tongue to make sure it really happened. I'm getting it fixed next Monday.

This afternoon Carmen had a huge blowout poop while she was taking a nap.

One of our sprinkler heads broke and needs replacing.

Last night I had horrible dreams about feral cats who had gross snotty ooze all over them and were jumping through my door.

Our poor little camera is dead so we're buying a new two, and I'm excited.

Olivia got a free book today from the Library's summer reading program.

I don't think it's bragging to say my kids are good looking because it really has nothing to do with me. Olivia and Carmen don't belong to me; they are their own people and I'm just here to take care of them. I guess they have some of my genes but since I cannot control those I certainly cannot take credit for their beauty in that respect. Also, it is very evident to anyone who has seen us that my girls are much better looking than I am, so it's not like I'm claiming beauty by association.

Time for bed. I'm hoping for no feral cat or teeth-breaking dreams. Wish me luck.