come on in, brush the cobwebs away.
When I wrote "Uncle Fucka," I didn't know how many lives I would touch...and thank you for not nominating Phil Collins.
Two years ago: The first entry of nobody knows anything.
Three years ago: I get encouragement and pats.
Last night, as Darin and I gave her her bath, Sophia let out with what was definitely her first laugh. We've heard her make sounds that are like laughs before, but this was for certain. She was in the water and Darin and I were splashing her and she laughed. And it was a wonderful noise. Both Darin and I were ecstatic at the sound.
I know why parents are so nutty when their baby does the simplest, stupidest stuff -- it's because their baby is doing it. At the hospital you are handed this tiny person who doesn't know how to do much more than eat, sleep, cry, and poop, and often she doesn't know how to do those things very well. Everything she does after that she learns to do right before your very eyes. And it's miraculous, it truly is.
For example, Sophia did not know how to play. She still doesn't; it's a learned skill. But she is learning. Her bouncy chair has a row of toys on a bar right in front of her seat. For the first two months, we'd put her in the chair and she'd sit and look around for a while, and maybe she'd cry when she got bored. I'd hit the rattle or the spinning mirror in front of her and she'd watch them, but that was about it.
Then one day she reached out and hit the rattle herself.
I screamed down to Darin, "She's playing!" He came up, watched her hit the rattle, and was overjoyed.
Now, anybody outside of our happy little unit would be like, "She hit a rattle, guys. Chill." But when you know she wasn't doing that even a day ago, it's truly amazing. And you do want to burble like a mad person about how your baby is putting connections together and learning to do new things.
It's 9:30. Almost time for bed. We go to bed around 10 most nights, maybe 10:30. We get up around 6:30am, because that's when Sophia decides it's time to start the day.
The day consists of me holding Sophia, nursing Sophia, taking Sophia for walks, and periodically looking at things on the Internet. I spend five minutes here and there on Wordplay. I read e-mail; I don't send out too much these days. Darin, Sophia, and I usually have lunch together. In the afternoons I try to find some way of entertaining her: the baby gym, going to yoga class, playing "Roll Over" on the guest bed. Sometimes she takes a nap--once it was a four-hour nap, but usually it's more along the lines of an hour.
Today I was exhausted and took the first nap I'd taken in maybe a couple of weeks. She slept with me for maybe ninety minutes. Today was also the first day I've taken a bath with her, a singularly difficult proposition: wash a squirming, slippery eel in the bathtub without letting her drop too far into the water, dry off said eel, then dry yourself off. Let's just say I have a lot to learn on how to do those maneuvers correctly.
The deal between Darin and me is that when he finishes his work day, he takes over with Sophia. He finishes his work day around 7 in the evening. Sophia usually goes into cranky overdrive around 7:02. Sometimes Darin can calm her down, rocking her in the rocking chair. Sometimes no substitute for Mommy will do, and so I then get to spend a half hour or so helping her fall asleep.
What this is all leading up to is: I have to come up with new ways of thinking. And working.
I will save my long rant/explanation for my obsession with working and what it means to my self-esteem for another time. Suffice it to say there are several writing projects I would like to move forward with that I have not been able to find the time for. This is partially because my day is broken up into fifteen minute fragments and partially because of the way I have always worked, which is to sit down with a pad of paper and a pen and sketch things out, make cluster diagrams, doodle on possibilities. (I like how paper moves in many directions, whereas typing on the computer is rather horizontal. I can't do cluster diagrams on the computer.) I would sketch out ideas or scenes and then I would sit down at the computer to write them out.
I find it tough to sketch or cluster when I'm playing WWF Knockdown with a three-month old. I'm not saying it's impossible, just not the usual mode I'm used to working in. I'm used to working on paper, and I have to learn to work in my head. I'm trying to think of the backstory for a murder mystery and I have to come up with the narrative in my mind. I usually get started and then I get distracted, either with another idea or by something happening in the real world. I have to train myself to focus.
Ha.
Well, at least I'm not trying to take up a career as a pro chess player, I'll tell you that much.
I started the entry at 9:30pm and I finished it at 11:30pm. We went down to bed at 9:45 to get Sophia to sleep. It took a while; Darin actually fell asleep first. I know I will always have the hours from 11 on to myself; maybe I should just get used to working then and taking afternoon naps with the baby to make up for it.
Now you:
The answer to yesterday's question: Judge Thomas Penfield Jackson is the guy who's ordered the breakup of Microsoft. Microsoft is, of course, appealing the decision. Penfield has zero patience at this point with the giant company, which is saying that they need more time: 'Besides, he added, "I'm suspicious that they are just playing for time, hoping they will get to deal with a new administration" that might approach the company with a softer hand.' (New York Times, June 6.)
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Copyright 2000 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@nobody-knows-anything.com