Thoughts and Words Ill-Sorted

I usually find the walk to my 11:00 class a bit of an obstacle course.  Since it’s right after chapel, and there’s a bit of a break before class, the halls are filled with clusters of friends making lunch plans, but mostly couples getting in a quick chat and a lingering hug before they go off to separate classes.  I’m usually trying to hold back on the eye-roll by the time I get to my classroom, and I consider myself mostly a romantic.  There are just so many!  But recently I saw something that was genuinely cute.  I gave an exam, and about ten minutes before class ended, when several students had already handed in and left, one guy came up, handed in his exam, and then headed back to his seat.  Wanting to make sure he knew he was free to go, I caught his eye and glanced at the door.  He understood, but did a quick head-nod toward his girlfriend, a nervous test-taker one row over, then pulled out his ipad, slid down, and quietly waited until she was done.

Erin

I’ve been reading about the March doldrums from other academics, and now I can see that life in Kentucky is just different.  Here, starting this week and last, the birds are cacophonous in the mornings, I’ve seen t-shirts and shorts around town, and Sydney has entirely lost his head to gardening (Let me know if you see a dignified philosophy professor anywhere.  Currently the only man in my house is a wild-eyed, dirt-covered, barefoot carpenter and farmer).  Kentucky is at 37 degrees latitude, and I’m realizing that that makes a big difference.  Iowa and New York are at 42, so that was my normal for the first 25 years of my life.  Oxford was 52, so quite a shift (dark by 3:30 in the winter, the sun never directly overhead).  To be now 15 degrees below that is really striking, particularly when I see snowy pictures of Boston as I wash dirt-covered little hands.  I’m invigorated by this spring weather (don’t worry: for those of you who are jealous, you will laugh when my brain melts this summer) and my only problem is choosing between writing and gardening/hiking/playing.

Erin

In some families, it’s the living/family room that’s the hangout.  But in our house, the living room is a retreat, a place to get away from whirling activity.  For the action you head to the kitchen, where somebody’s cooking, someone else is building Legos on the counter, someone else has books piled on the table, and the fourth is drawing at her desk.

Thanks to Sydney, the kitchen is starting to reflect our family’s personality a bit more, too.  He hauled out the *meh* dishwasher next to the sink and, this weekend, installed shelving.  There is nothing that I like more than food storage, and it’s nice to keep staples handy.  We do have a small pantry, but we are regularly scared by how quickly our family can go through food.  By my count, that shelving could hold nearly twenty gallons of pantry goods, in gallon, half-gallon, and quart jars.

Erin

Sydney could see I’d had a bit much of our kids’ wild behavior this morning, and in the midst of my complaining, he reminded me, “Remember the kids’ book, when the girl realizes that her attitude makes things sweet or not sweet?  Yeah, same here.”

I was shocked out of my grumpiness: “Wait, you just quoted a Pinkalicious book at me?  The books Katherine has been picking out at the library that are covered in glitter and pictures of cupcakes and self-absorbed children?”

Wow.  Just wow.  But that left-field reference got me back in a better mood.

* * *

Sometime during the week of snow days in February the kids tackled watercolors, and now the cork boards over their beds are filled with families of elephants and trains (guess whose board has which pictures).  Sydney’s stack of t-shirts provided nice painting smocks.

And the cats got very cuddly.  They don’t seem to be keen on giving up ground just because they’re now twice the size they were when we got them in the fall.  The day they did this elaborate sharing/repositioning act I got almost three hours of work in.  I sometimes have to be forced to sit still.  My legs stayed quite warm under two cats and a blanket.

Erin

“Apparently you cannot take her anywhere.  She’s being mean.”

Whoah.  He gives “apparently” a lot more weight than I thought it had!

Erin

A colleague of mine asked me to teach his students about picture books this week.  The course is on adolescent literature, and they’ve barely touched books for young children, so I’m in charge of that part.  My sole credential for this particular task is that I have long babysat for and now have my own small children, and thus have lugged picture books around and read them at night.

I know lots of academic things about children’s literature, particularly its use as escapist cultural conditioning in the Victorian era, or its role in reinforcing racist ideology during Jim Crow.  But as for what is popular, or what parents of small children like for them to read, I’m not sure I’m the best judge.  My kids got into books in England, which has its own literary culture (which we brought over with us when we moved here), and, well, my kids have a literature prof as a mother, and I know that this is the only time in their lives in which I’ll be in charge of picking what they read.  Already, when we go to the library, we get three sets of books: my picks, her picks, and his picks.  Now, we all enjoy reading all of them together, but my son falls for the poorly written Thomas the Tank Engine books (oh, man!  I love Thomas, but never realized that the stories are seriously clunky!) and Katherine recently picked upPinkalicious. Sigh.  It’s all glitter and selfishness.  I tend to pick up books that are full of fantasy and quirky characters and strange new vocabulary.

I don’t think I’m quite as hapless when it comes to picking children’s books as I sound, but, still, I realize that my perspective is not shared by everyone, so I’d be glad for input.  What makes you pick up a children’s book?  Is it the fact that it’s a book from your own childhood?  Is it silly?  Is it educational?  Is it a role-model type?  Are the drawings breathtaking or scribbly?  Do you have favorites you’d like to name and share with the world?

Erin

In some ways, I could really like this weather.  It’s really winter, finally, in Kentucky.  There’s a foot of snow on the ground, I’ve been able to stay home from school for three days, and my familiar little town looks like a winter playground.  I am, after all, an Iowan, and thus used to cold and snow.

But I have classes scheduled (this week, cancelled just an hour or two before I teach!), and each change in the schedule requires lots of juggling and responding to flurries of emails from students.  And I have kids who don’t seem to understand that I need to go outside and shovel on my own, since they think it too cold to be out for long and help.  I would prefer they not turn Lord of the Flies the moment I step out the door.  A hint: somebody dies in that book.  And their short legs and tiny bodies don’t seem to hold up well against some bitter cold and wind and piles of snow.  Sigh.  And, no, I don’t like being solo local parent, glad as I am that Sydney was able to spend time with his family in Nova Scotia and combine that trip with a conference in St. Louis.

But, in good news, I got one day in the office to myself once the kids’ school reopened (my school was closed, but Nathaniel’s nursery was open, so off they went for a change of pace!), we got a few quiet mornings and easy days in which to help the kids through the worst of the coughs they both picked up last week, we built some amazing Lego structures together yesterday that I would never have time for otherwise, and my kids clamoured for chickpea curry for supper.  Hurray!

Erin

Kentucky seems to be disturbingly warm throughout the winter until I leave to see if I can find some proper winter weather elsewhere. Still, despite the record storm in KY yesterday, I saw way more snow in Nova Scotia. Here’s me shoveling snow off a greenhouse a few days ago to keep it from collapsing (I’m basically done by this point):

And then we got the real snowstorm, high winds and all, leaving our street looking like this:

And, of course, the greenhouses need to be shoveled out all over again. Note that there are three structures in this picture:

Sydney

Nathaniel woke up this morning while I was in the middle of reading a student’s paper draft.  Asking Nathaniel to stop talking (even if only for two minutes) is like asking Niagara Falls to take a break.  If he doesn’t talk to you he’ll talk to the cats, to his stuffed animal, or even, if pressed, to himself.  And by the time he’s done with that, he’ll forget that he’s not supposed to talk to you, so you’re back to Square One.  He narrates his life everywhere he goes.  If we walk to school, our entire journey is accompanied by the music of his soliloquies.  Talking is not a problem for this one.  Listening, on the other hand . . .

Erin

Last Saturday:

As you can see, our cats seem to get along well.

We’re told that this is what winter in Kentucky can be like.  I still think it weird to have hummus-and-veggie picnics on our porch in January.

Nathaniel doesn’t have much chance at remaining illiterate.  Katherine corners him to read to him every chance she gets.  He, meanwhile, has gone back into Legos with a vengeance.  He’s getting up early at the moment, so by 5:30 in the morning I usually hear the snap of Lego pieces from the kitchen.

Sydney’s favorite visitor to our yard (yes, this is sarcasm).

This Saturday:

This morning I had one of my most beautiful walk/runs ever.  Given all of the wonderful places we’ve lived, that’s saying something.  I headed from our house to Centennial Park, just up the road, and looped around the park right before full morning light, with the place to myself.  Every branch held snow, and the rolling hills of the park really did look like blankets.  I then returned to this view from the kitchen.

Since the kids aren’t really used to snow, and Sydney went birdwatching with the car after I got back, I decided we’d stick close to home for our snow fun.  Both kids had a great time and stayed out an hour or so.  They never really did get to snowman- or fort-building, but they enjoyed making piles and scooping up snowballs.

But when Katherine was done, she was done.  I held Nathaniel’s return off by handing him a Tonka truck to play with (suddenly he was no longer cold and didn’t want to come inside), but Katherine insisted she was done, and she was shortly back to her books, enjoying the quiet while he was outside.

Erin