Friday, April 8, 2011

A Week For the Books

Since my last post, I have indeed written a bit.  Well, I’ve cut a lot, and written a very little bit of new material.  Editing is writing, too.

This week, I have done a lot of thinking about the purpose and function of my novel, though I have produced little written work.  The tree outside my writing window bloomed without me, as things tend to do.  Though it is good to know how steadily the world moves without us there to see it, it was sad to miss the first leafing of that well-placed tree.  Instead, I spent my early mornings on Watt’s Passage and Proffit Road, on my way to Ruckersville as the sun rose.  All this week, I have been nannying for the most even-tempered, affectionate baby I’ve met in a long time.  In fact, his diaper is pretty smelly right this very moment, so he’s giving me a reproachful look every minute or so and then returning to look at the window or the Baby Einstein toys he likes so much.  In respect of that perfectly sweet trust, I am going to go change a poopy diaper.  Be right back.

Yay!  He didn’t pee on me!  G’s only fault in the whole world is his timing with peeing – he like likes to do so just as I am changing his diaper.

I want to describe this little boy for a minute.  He’s had his bottom two front teeth come in, so he looks a little like an upside down bunny when he smiles.  He talks a lot, though his only grown-up words are ‘De dog’ (which means, I think, ‘there it is’ or ‘here we go’), and ‘Dada.’  He loves to walk around, but he needs my hands to do so.  He does not like his pants to touch his feet.  He hardly ever cries, and when he does, he stops as soon as you’ve fixed the problem.  He’s quite independent in playing, and can sit with his toys for twenty minutes at a time, usually only vaguely interested in you if you come to play with him; but then, he crawls over and reaches up his arms to be held.  Then, he’ll sit in your arms and be cuddled for quite some time.  He listens to commands, like, “Please use your hands to hold the cup” and “No.”  We sit on the couch and look at each other and laugh, just for fun.  Why don't grown ups do that?
He has the most wonderful facial expressions.  His favorite game is Flying.  I put him on my shins, lay on my back, hold his hands, and bring my knees to my chest, keeping my calves parallel with the ground.  He loves it.  (I will miss this boy like there’s a hole in my abdomen when I leave him at the end of the week.  The only reason I’m not cuddling him right now is that he needs to crawl around and try to stay standing for a while so he gets tired enough for his nap.) 

When we go out, he sits quietly in my arms in the store and cuddles me.  If he reaches for something on the shelf and I say no, he doesn’t freak.  He takes good naps, and prefers to do so in my arms, though he’ll nap in a crib if I am gentle about putting him there.  More than any of that, though, this little guy is my friend, and he’s the shit.  We are kindred spirits, and we make each other smile all day long. 

I shouldn’t be writing right now.  I have a lot of work to do for my class on special ed and the show I’m teching opens this week so I haven’t done any of the reading… but I miss this.  So, within the week, I will be posting the novel in installments online, rather than blogging – I miss communicating in this fashion when I don’t do it for a week, so I am hoping that I can satiate the urge to tell you all things by publishing online.  If you would like the website, email me.  Maybe I’ll also find the time to post.  In between, I am sound and projections op on a play.  It's nice to facilitate the spotlight for somebody else.  I like being the mechanism of art.

In case my description of G doesn’t illustrate how perfect my week has been, I am going to share a list of all the things I’ve been in the last seven days to illustrate how idyllic it’s been:

Nap nest, chef’s minion, outrageous flirt, sound tech, cue-caller, all-purpose comfort device, diaper changer, chauffeur, mind reader, reader, player of the dressing game, kindred spirit, sunriser, witness to the morning, witness of steps, listener of gurgles, source of laughter, raspberrian, peek-a-boo expert, teething device, daughter, drool mop, burp cloth, dresser, jungle gym, light cue op, happy home, full of joy, mechanism of art.

After writing the first draft of this, G crawled onto my chest, drank his bottle, and then slept on me for two hours.  Baby trust is scary.  I slept a little, too, but it was a lighter sleep; I stayed close to the surface.  When he twitched, I twitched, and vice versa.

Much connection can happen across age, without words.


  1. When will you start posting your novel? I'd love to read it. I'm sure it's much better than the three I've written, which were each for National Novel Writing Month. That alone should tell you how unprintable they were, though one, the middle of the three, does have some potential in terms of the plot.

  2. well....I'm changing my mind about publishing online, serially. I'm having the MOST difficulty with editing.