Thoughts and Words Ill-Sorted

We haven’t been attached to our computers in the last day or two, the result of things going so well.  Mom and Dad have energy for Katherine’s antics, leaving Sydney and me to get to know our new arrival, and it’s great having four pairs of arms for carrying a newborn.

Mom and I made an exploratory trip out to the neighborhood this afternoon, leaving Nathaniel in the capable hands of his father and grandfather.  That was fantastic: I was thrilled to get out in the lovely weather, and by the time we returned from our trip the boys had figured out how to maneuver Nathaniel into a good position for a nap.  Those of you who know me know I really like to be up and moving, so I am very happy not to find myself tied to the couch like I was for two months after Katherine was born.  Maybe Nathaniel realizes that I need to be up and useful this time, since we now have two kids–and two sets of stairs in our house.

We will do our best to get some more pictures of Nathaniel before too long, but he is, of course, happiest swaddled up and buried in someone’s arms.  He also makes fantastic ugly faces, so if you’re wanting “pretty” we aren’t going to have it for a little while.  The things he can do with those face wrinkles . . .

If you’re interested in backstory:

Monday evening Sydney and I took a taxi to the hospital, where the midwife checked me out and said all was well.  Sydney and I walked home from the hospital, a little over two miles, and enjoyed what was, ironically, a romantic stroll: beautiful evening weather, elegant streetlamps through the parks, and no stroller or toddler.  I did have to stop along the way a few times, and Sydney wondered whether we should go back to the hospital.  But we were halfway down the hill and I liked the last part of the walk best, so we went home and thus thoroughly disappointed my parents, who were hoping we’d gone to the hospital to stay.  But after an hour or two of conversation and us all looking at my stomach impatiently I went upstairs to brush my teeth, found that unusually challenging, got Sydney and our things, and we took another taxi to the hospital.  I wasn’t sure that walking was a good idea this time, particularly since I wanted to do something violent to the driver when he asked us which way we’d like to go (“Good grief, man, just go!  You have a GPS device and I’m looking a bit desperate back here!”).  The midwife was glad to see us return and, only half jokingly, told me to hold off a bit on delivery so that she could make a few notes in my file.  The delivery went much more smoothly than last time and Nathaniel was born just before 2am, about two hours after we arrived at the hospital.  Although I needed some help for awhile after the delivery, by 6am the midwife left us to shower, dress, and move to another room, where she ordered us to take a nap.  We waited in the hospital the rest of the morning, wanting to go home, but finally a dashing young doctor came in, gave the final OK, and we were home by 2pm.

Nathaniel eats really well and seems to be doing quite well overall.  We’ll try encouraging him to sleep a bit more during the night, rather than fantastically during the day, but so far he’s been a very good baby. Katherine, after an initial wide-eyed look at him from across the room, is now quite happy to point to him and announce to the world, several times a day, “Baby!” in an authoritative voice.  All things are good in her world if she has a word for them.

Erin

Same clothes, different person.

Born at 1:40 in the morning on February 15, 2011. Despite the British midwives’ fretting about small size, Nathaniel weighed in at a healthy 8 pounds, 13 1/2 ounces.

As long as I didn’t act too gushy about its being Valentine’s Day Sydney was perfectly happy to take me on a walk this morning, leaving Katherine with Mom and Dad.  We visited the Botanic Garden, where we saw spring in action: crocuses, snowdrops, and daffodils littering the tidy garden beds and in sweeping skirts around the trees.  We also spent quite a bit of time in the greenhouses, where the warmth from the sun and the citrus trees, papaya, bananas, and lilypads made us completely forget about anything remotely winter-like about Oxford. Katherine got her own outing with the grandparents, and I was very glad to see that she returned with pants covered in dirt from the park.  It’s not just me who gets her dirty!

I called the health clinic to make an appointment with my midwife later this week, but was told that they were all booked up.  They recommended making an appointment in another week or two.  This is where being a pushy American does me some good; after my asking whether they normally recommended that pregnant women wait a month past their due date to see a midwife they seemed a bit flustered and had me talk to the midwives, who had different ideas.  But so far we’re all just here, enjoying the decent weather and the quiet.

Erin

The baby was due last Sunday, so in about half an hour it’ll be a full week overdue. And, unlike a week ago, when I was in some discomfort, I’m feeling now just like I did at seven months: round but functional, and like I could go on like this for a long time . . .

We’re all a little bored, and my parents are getting worried that they’re going to return to Iowa without having met their second grandchild!

Katherine, in her toddler perversity, has decided she really likes Mom, which means that the rest of us just get “No no no.”  She apparently only has room for one love at a time.  But we’re working on her 🙂

Erin

On the other hand, snowdrops arrived a couple of weeks ago. There are tens of thousands in the parks, but also a few stray ones in our yard:

And here are a few photos of Katherine:

Despite my inability to think past the arrival of the baby, I realized yesterday that my parents fly out of Iowa tomorrow and will be at our house by noon on Monday.  It will be a long trip for them, but I’m excited to see them.  In addition to everything else that they will be bringing (help with Katherine, news from home), they will remind me that North America is not a different time, a past that was very nice before we moved here, but a real place that continues to exist even though we’ve moved away.

Either we’re going to have a very busy weekend or we’ll have a day or two to enjoy our company and help them settle in before life gets chaotic again.  One thing we do know: Katherine is going to love the chance to entertain new people!

Erin

While I still have two consecutive minutes in which to think, I’m taking notes on the novel that will be the focus of my next chapter: Faulkner’s Go Down, Moses.  I am not in the habit of giving book recommendations, since I know full well that the Faulkner I enjoy is rarely the best place to start with his fiction (if, as Sydney wonders, it’s worth starting at all).  But in rereading the first short story of the book, “Was,” I’m reminded once again how masterfully Faulkner treats what are, particularly for my students, thin-ice issues.

The story is set in 1859, and it opens with the escape of a black man from his plantation to the neighboring plantation, where his sweetheart lives.  We learn that this is something of a regular occurrence, and always creates a big hassle because his masters are two bachelor brothers who, though eager to “give chase,” don’t want to go anywhere near the other plantation, where a single, husband-hunting woman lives.  Much comedy ensues as the escapee gives the brothers a rousing chase, and as the single woman on the other plantation lays her plans to trap herself a husband.  The story ends with a poker game to determine whether one of the brothers will be forced to marry the single woman, and which landowner is going to buy which slave so that they can stop this running-off business.

Once you dig your way through the obscure hunting terms and figure out the complicated histories of these people you get a great laugh out of the situation.  Faulkner is, quite often, knee-slapping funny.  But, as my students are horrified to realize, we are talking about an escaped-slave narrative here, no matter how benign the owners and no matter how routine the escape.  To make matters more complicated, the brothers’ father had a child by one of his slaves; the escapee in the story is, we realize, the half-brother of the two brothers who own the plantation.  Faulkner’s never shy about tackling race as a complicated issue in the South, but I think this story takes the cake.  What I like about it is that he does show the issue as complicated, breaking down the clear distinction between the master’s house and the slave quarters and showing characters who struggle with their roles as either master or slave.  And I like the way that he brings comedy back into the discussion, as well as everyday events, so that investigations of race relations come as part of the package of living in the South, rather than as the only topic out there.

Very good stuff.  I’ve got to find some way to teach this again soon . . .

Erin