Accommodatingly

happiness

Originally uploaded by Jessie and Steve

Today was our seventh anniversary–zoiks!–and the weather was beautiful. We took a walk to the park for lunch, which Nathan thoroughly enjoyed. I think more picnics are definitely in our future. Then we had a remarkably unstressful trip to the mall, followed by naps for all of us. Dinner was hamburgers on the grill. Afterwards, we took a stroll around the neighborhood, had some playtime on the swings at the local playground, stopped for a granita at the coffee shop, then hung out in the yard for a little bit before coming in.

Nathan enjoyed his day so much it took a little while for him to let go of it. His loudest yowl ended in silence a few minutes ago.

I like our lives here, and I will really miss it. I wonder what it will be like living in Belmont. I hope that we’ll have more nice days like today, both before and after we move.

…for Mark!

Nathan now recognizes three (capital) letters: B (all the time), M (often), and S (sometimes). He makes the sounds associated with all three and points to them (in preference to other letters in a word or on a sign) when asked. I can’t think of anything witty to say about this that doesn’t sound wrong, or like boasting. I just think it’s awesome.

On Babble, Jessie reviews the pigeon. The pigeon loves reviews!

Also on Babble, New Haven’s finest indiepop group Mates of State tour with a baby. I really like Mates of State. I had no idea they had a little one (a mini-Mate) and can’t even imagine how a rock tour with a little one must work (I’ve seen poetry tours and that’s tough enough)– but now I know a bit more about how it has to.

Nathan is currently rattling the bars to his cell…uh…crib. He’s had a real time of it getting to sleep several nights recently (though the last two nights were okay). I’ve already been upstairs once for a rock and a cuddle–I’m hoping that further visits will be unnecessary.

We got our first moving quote today–we could buy a new car (not a nice car, but a new one) for what they are charging, and that’s with the 62% Harvard discount. Zoiks! Individual items, like Ikea furniture and cheap dishes, seem silly to move, given that the cost will probably exceed what we paid for them, but if we have a giant moving sale, we’ll just have to replace things once we move in to our new place. Sigh.

I keep finding out new things about our soon-to-be-new home. Namely, Mitt Romney lives there. (Shudder.) Also, the roads, apparently, suck. It’s a bit ritzier than I thought it was initially, but no one wants to spend money to repave. Of course, now the shit will hit the fan and 20 years of undermaintained asphalt will come out of OUR tax bill. Thanks, Mitt.

Nathan knows the ABC song. At least, when we sing it to him, he sings back the “A, B, C” part. He also knows that the letter M goes MMMM. And when we read Mr Brown Can Moo tonight, he wanted to point to the inside front cover, which consists entirely of transliterated noises (MOO, DIBBLE, SLURRRRP, that sort of thing), point out the M’s and say “Mmmm,” then point out other letters (any letters would do) and say “ABC”!

On the other hand, he refused to sleep– for over an hour!– until Jessie came home, then fell asleep five minutes after she and I began talking downstairs. She didn’t even need to go upstairs to see him: I think he was just waiting to hear her car. (He knows the “beep” sound of the car door locking, too: he was approximating it when he played with my keyring.)

Best book of last week: Mary Dalton’s latest, Red Ledger. I think I’ll be teaching it (and Merrybegot) this fall.

Longest book of this week: Maynard Mack’s nearly 900-page biography of Alexander Pope, which I really should read entire, since I’m writing something soon (something fairly short) about one of Pope’s best poems. It’s the crowning opus of an important scholar, and it’s quite readable, sentence by sentence. Fun, even. Still: 900 pages. That’s long.

Jessie has noticed more than once that while Nathan enjoys playing with either (and with both) of us, he seems to find her more cuddly than he finds me: the close, physical, primate clinging little ones sometimes crave and often need comes more strongly when she’s holding, singing to, or reading to him than when I’m holding, reading to, singing to, etc.

This difference once merely made me feel sad, but last night we realized that it had some use: when Nathan (not for the first time) had real trouble sleeping– “real trouble” for a one-and-a-half-year old, being “45 minutes of screaming after being put to bed slightly early because he was overtired, having taken half his normal nap”– I may have had an easier time getting him to calm down and go back to sleep, because, as the less cuddly daddy, not the more cuddly mommy, my holding and rocking a very sleepy Nathan was calming and warm enough, but not so calming and warm that he felt it worth his while to refuse sleep and scream until he got more.

I have begun to think of myself as a form of methadone.

(Yes, I know that mommies are “supposed to be” more cuddly and daddies less so, so that we conform to a stereotype: but surely there are couples where daddy is more cuddly– it just happens that we are not one.)

Thanks to the dozens of people who came to Alex’s and my “goodbye to Minnesota” reading. We were glad to see you all.

I started the day a wee bit sluggishly due to several glasses of Prosecco imbibed at last night’s post-poetry-party. Ugh. I also earn the Mother-of-the-Year award for not even hearing Nathan awaken at 1:30am. Fortunately, Daddy dealt with the sorrow and the pee-pee. I guess Designated Driver can also mean Designated Diaperer.

After finally getting my ass in gear, I went off to pre-press craziness at Rain Taxi, and returned home to find that my review of John Lithgow’s Sunny Side of the Street is up on Babble.com, a site that I hope sees a lot more of me.

Tonight, Matmos are at the Walker. Matmos were also at the reading last night, but couldn’t party.

Well, I hope it’s not really my last reading ever in this state to which we owe so much, because we like to think we’ll come back and visit our friends.

It is, though, almost certainly my last public poetry reading until we move to Massachusetts in mid-July, hence my last as a Minnesota resident:

Please do come to my reading with my fantastic colleague (is he an ex-colleague now? perhaps, but he’s still fantastic) Alex Lemon. Opposable Thumbs Books, 2833 Johnson St NE, Minneapolis, MN, Friday May 18 at 7:30pm. Get there early and save yourself a good seat. And bring your friends, if they like me, or like Alex, too.

In an almost unrelated matter, I am still an inconsiderate person who doesn’t deserve as thoughtful a spouse as Jessie– but I like to think I’m improving, however slowly. (If you want to read about a neat marriage and a couple of wonderful music-headed people, check out John Peel’s autobiography, begun by him but completed by his widow. I finished it this morning… and really ought to review it today.)

Is it unfair to expect a present on Mother’s Day? More pointedly, is it unfair to want to make your spouse feel awful because he did not provide you with a present on Mother’s Day? Furthermore, is it unfair to want to inflict physical pain upon him because this is your second Mother’s Day and you didn’t receive a present on the first one, either? Perhaps a tattoed reminder on his forehead would be an appropriate response?

Mood: Rotten.