What a Wednesday

It was beautiful outside today but frigid, at least for my Louisiana blood. I was wearing about eight layers until I made it to the gym late this afternoon (more evidence of the annoying bug I seem to have caught?). Ol kept looking askance at me, sizing up my shivers and seeming rather in disbelief. He appears immune to temperature most of the time lucky little guy. He and Jack both actually; I think it's a kid thing. Anyway, I was insanely productive until I hit the wall at 2p and fell asleep on the couch, out like a light, while Ol watched Blues Clues. It's probably not terribly wise to sleep while your toddler is awake, but I do lock all doors in every way possible if I even think I might nod off while the kids are here so at least it'd take them some time to finagle their way out into greater DC. What was going on with the drivers today? Did some bizarre majority of them have a woman-in-labor riding shotgun? I really can't understand why else folks were zooming through stop signs with not even the slightest suggestion of slowing down and/or speeding along the streets as if we've all registered for the Indy 500. I mean, I like to drive fast and I like to be efficient, but I don't ride up people's bums for the love. And really, can you read? Stop sign means what it says. Loud, simple, clear.

And why is it OK to park in an active lane of traffic? It is not OK, especially if you don't even bother to put on your hazards and if you leave your driver side door wide open as if no other cars are a'coming. Good grief, people.

The last thing I will say about local drivers is WOW on the lady who was hauling down Wisconsin Ave with a calico cat stretched out on her dashboard. An alive cat, friends, all puff and whiskers, just flipping its tail loosy-goosy while this gal is on her way. Doesn't he slide back and forth when she takes a turn? Is it comfortable to lie wedged between a windshield and the dash? Aren't there vents up there? And doesn't this feline obstruct this woman's view? I've spent more time that I like to admit pondering each of the questions today.

Perhaps it goes without saying that once again, I have lost the will to prepare Chicken Kiev. It's one of the most outstanding dishes I make but it is a g-damn labor of love. But I do want it so badly. Hmm...

Hmm...

I swear to you, readers, I wasn't sure I was going to make it through this afternoon with les enfants. J was in one of his moods in which he repeats himself constantly and never -literally, never; how does he breathe?- stops talking. He used the word "deploy" about 400 times, mostly to describe some invention he was putting together in his mind but describing to me real time. J is a narrator of life in the truest sense of the word. He literally narrates his days as they unfold. Sometimes this is fascinating, other times hilarious but on a number of occasions, it is boring as all get-out. Like mind-numbing, I'd rather be doing pretty much anything else, dull. He was also trying to control the most inane of everything: whether or not O could pick up the giant vat of perling beads we have and where he could or could not set it down;  was the proximity of O's legs to his too close or too far because, I can assure you, it was never just right. I finally had a brief come-to-jesus with him about how, in fact, he was not the parent or in charge, and frankly, he seemed a little taken aback.

O was in a slightly whiny mood which adopted slightly antagonistic overtones when J started trying to manhandle his every move. I could understand this response but was really annoyed by how many times I had to intervene simply to save my own nerves. Both were in psychotically needy moods and acted fairly put out when I couldn't meet their demands simultaneously and right NOW, as if I'm some sort of servant octopus with no mind to do anything except agree. I think not.

Also my chest aches, and it seems I've acquired whatever has had T hacking up a lung for 3 days. No good.

To counter all this nonsense, I made a giant apple and brandied fig crumble from Melissa Clark. It smells to the nines and I do believe it will assuage some of my vile humour.

Hail? (Or, openness to things unexpected)

If I am not mistaken, we had a brief hail-storm about an hour ago. I was not expecting this, and now that it's sunny out -blue skies, puffy clouds; the works!- it almost seems like the icy sprinkle was nothing more than imagination. Or further evidence of climate change. But I digress. It's curious or ever-surprising or humbling or all of the above when something happens that makes you look twice, double back on the events as you initially saw or experienced them. Do you know what I mean? It's like those über-realistic dreams where you wake up and are completely sure that all you dreamt is, in fact, totally real. I can't tell you the number of times I've called friends and family to make sure they're OK, not sick/angry/lost, no trouble has befallen them. Or the dreams in which you are so active that when you awake you're convinced you never even slept. Those are among the worst because you're so damn tired afterwards. Or the ones in which you're terrorized by something happening to your child(ren) and you run in their rooms and clutch them, daring to wreck their slumber simply to assure yourself that they're there and OK. Those are plain awful.

But there are also those everyday experiences that almost give you whiplash: did I just hear what I thought I heard? did that come out wrong? did it just hail? Like an internal game of telephone, you wonder if the output is consistent with the input. These sorts of occurrences can be amusing ("did you say you farted loudly? no, I said I started proudly"), confusing (see previous example prior to correction), disconcerting and even upsetting, and in that regard, I wonder if this is why dialogue about potentially distressing topics (politics, illness, race, etc) is sometimes glossed over rather than delved into.

It is safer to just not go there rather than ask, inquire, maybe appear ignorant or different, end up arguing though that's unintended, perhaps offend though accidentally. That riskiness sure seems to me to be a definite possibility for why adults tend to become more entrenched in their ideas and ideologies as they age. It is easier and more comfortable to keep company with those you know share your views and values.

Yet doesn't this do us all a disservice? In some ways, doesn't it remove some of the diversity and excitement in the unknown from our lives? I look at my children and the kids they're friends and classmates with as well as kids we don't know but meet at the park or the like. Even if they're shy, they are so, SO open. Eager to experience the world around them, to ask and learn, take risks and even fail. Most everyone is a potential new friend, and in interacting with others, they very often do so without filters. They say what they feel, what they observe, and if there's disagreement, you hear about it. But then it's gone, more play to be enjoyed.

I watch this with my boys all the time. They love each other so much, miss each other during the school days, cannot wait to play with one another. But boy can they let each other have it.  Yet that never diminishes their relationship; rather, it strengthens it. It's admirable really, inspiring. It might be because they're boys; you might know the stereotypes: anger is fleeting, grudges aren't held, they get their aggression out and then poof, back to the Legos. But even if there is substantiation in that gendered claim, it's more universal than that in young children.

The unfettered curiosity about others becomes shaped as they grow. Of course it does, this is what experiences do. Yet I hope so strongly, so deeply, that I can help them hold onto their openness for as long as possible. To look at things critically but fairly, to analyze situations with an eye towards what they can learn rather than what immediately repels them, to be vocal about injustice wherever they may witness it, to remember that kindness and openness will allow them to live their lives in truly experiential ways. I try to live this sort of life daily. I don't always succeed, sometimes I want to throw in the towel because it's hard, sometimes I disappoint myself deeply, but I do try, and perhaps that's why the fairly normal hail-in-mid-November shocked me so much. I'd expected one thing and got another. Lucky me because instead of running errands, I listened to music and made a big pot of soup. You just never know.