crooked house

Our Wild Thing

Okay, so mostly I just wanted to post these pictures of Sylvie in this new hat. (It's a sickness, I tell you, this constant putting-of-things-on-one's-children's-heads as a form of entertainment.) But for the past couple of nights after Sylvie has fallen asleep, Luke and I have been cuddling up and reading The Wild Things. In the past he's often asked me to read aloud whatever book I happen to be engrossed in to help him drift off to sleep. This is the first time one of these "books without pictures" has kept him awake. Thinking it'd be too advanced for Luke, I'd purchased it to read myself, not expecting much -- I never do, when a writer tries to put his or her own spin on a classic -- but this is good, really good. Eggers has perfectly captured that kind of impulsive wildness that you often see in kids, particularly boys. And the conversations Max has with the monsters -- they're funny and very childlike in a realistically childlike way, not in that fake and sentimentally childlike way kids often converse in, in books. It's difficult to put your finger on the difference, but they say the kinds of things you'd hear kids say to one another if you followed some around for a little while and actually listened to them.* Max's thoughts ring similarly true.

Since I'm reading the book with the boy, his dad gets to take him to see the movie this weekend. I'm jealous. (One of us has to stay with Sylvie.)

*Disclaimer: I do not advise picking a group of children at random and then following them around to test this theory. You might get arrested.

Take A Look: Roman and London Are Burning, Horrible Histories, Enchanted Hunters, Bird Music, Phantom Towns and More.

Alas, these firescreens featuring Rome and London burning are only prototypes, not yet for sale. Via BB-blog.

Speaking of Rome burning, I ordered a bunch of Horrible Histories, ostensibly for Luke and Sylvie for Christmas. Really, until they're old enough, they're for me. I was inspired by When We Were Romans, one of the library books I picked up a few days ago. I can't recommend When We Were Romans enough -- written from the point of view of a nine-year-old boy, it belongs on my list of the best books that evoke childhood for adults.

Maria Tatar's Enchanted Hunters: The Power of Stories in Childhood sounds excellent. Can't wait to get my hands on a copy. And look! She has a blog. Now if only Harvard would follow Yale's example and offer her children's literature course online. (Must remember to tell David about this new Yale offering: Craig White's Listening to Music.)

I have my eye on Mike Sacks's And Here's the Kicker: Conversations with 21 Top Humor Writers on their Craft, too. It's reviewed favourably here.

Also via BB-blog, check this out:

Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

Jarbas Agnelli saw a newspaper photograph of birds on wires and decided to compose music based on the birds' position. Lovely and haunting. I also enjoy Agnelli's short films about his baby daughter, The Mini Adventures of Nina 1, 2, and 3.

This is neat: apparently phantom places, mostly streets but in this case a whole town, sometimes appear on maps. The town of Argleton in Lancashire appears only on Google maps. I can relate to the guy who felt compelled to walk to where it's supposed to be. That's exactly what I'd do:

"I started to weave this amazing fantasy about the place, an alternative universe, a Narnia-like world. I was really fascinated by the appearance of a non-existent place that the internet had the power to make real and give a semi-existence."

When Mr Bayfield reached Argleton – which appears on Google Maps between Aughton and Aughton Park – he found just acres of green, empty fields.

Via Gwenda on twitter.

Also on the topic of maps, take a look at these amazing map cut-outs of New York and Paris.

So You Want to Raise a Doctor

So although I did my best with Luke, he just informed me that he intends to be a video game designer/tv show writer when he grows up. In the above video, taken when Luke was maybe two, I see now that instead of inspiring him, I was torturing the child with the profession I'd prefer he choose.

Some mothers might think twice. But not I. No, instead I got pregnant twice. Sylvie is the perfect opportunity to try again.

See how I'm already making better progress. She doesn't mind the hat at all. (Please ignore the hideous wallpaper in the background. I haven't torn it down yet as I'm holding out for a full kitchen reno. The ugly wallpaper in the video is now gone, gone, gone.)

Plus, although this might sound sexist,  nowadays it seems as if  doctoring (as the old folks around here call it) is a profession often better suited to women anyway, especially if bedside manner matters to you. All of our doctors (our family doctor, Luke's pediatrician, his gastroenterologist, all the fertility specialists we saw, and the ob-gyns who delivered both children) are women. Our family doctor is a plump, white-haired woman in her sixties. When Luke was just starting to talk, every time he saw a grandmotherly-looking woman he said, "Look, a doct-ah!" Which I just loved. (Do you remember that old riddle about the boy who was injured in a car accident with his father, who was also severely injured? The surgeon enters the operating room and exclaims, "I can't operate on this boy! He's my son!" and you're supposed to figure out how that's possible. We were told that one in grade three -- and I remember being stumped.)

 

(Note: In a later post I shall discuss my strange penchant for photographing my children with hats, wigs, and a variety of household objects on their heads. For now I will say only this: I blame my mother.)

Happily, Sylvie is still too little to tell me what she wants for Christmas. Therefore this year I have free rein to purchase mainly medical-themed toys for my potential neurosurgeon:

A giant plush neuron is actually something she could cuddle up with now. The red blood cell also looks kind of cuddly. I'll probably get Luke the giant dust mite --he's put stuffed animals on his list against the recommendation of his allergist. (Two others that interest me personally are the bookworm and the swine flu.) Sylvie will also be able to wear these tiny scrubs right away. And this plastic doctor set will have to do for now -- she's liable to bash herself in the head with real metal pieces. And while a trip to the ER would certainly be educational, I don't want to risk the loss of any brain cells.

Perhaps I should use this brain gelatin mold on her rice cereal. It's never too early for shape recognition. And instead of a bib, she can wear this vinyl anatomy apron. This 5-layer wooden puzzle of a girl's body is something she could conceivably begin to chew on during the next few months. And it's never too soon to start scribbling in a Gray's Anatomy coloring book. 

I like these 3-D anatomical puzzles so much I'd happily display them in my living room: this human muscle and skeleton model, this Bio Signs brain & skull and this frog -- they're a lot more visually appealing than a pile of Fisher-Price and Hot Wheels crap.

I already have  the art version of this book and it is full of fun, age-appropriate activities: Science Play!: Beginning Discoveries for 2-To 6-Year-Olds.

And last but not least, Operation. (While I was browsing the board games, I found a new one called Infection -- it doesn't look all that snazzy but the concept is great. And timely.)

Update! Sara O'Leary has pointed me to this treasure: the Playmobil operating room.

 

So what if it's not intended for children under three. The way Sylvie wears that shower cap --  clearly, she's very advanced.

Two New Books About Paper Art

I've got my eye on two new-ish books featuring paper artists. Here are some  photographs of the incredible work found in the pages of Papercraft: Design and Art With Paper. The book comes with a DVD of some of the best stop-motion animation and some printable templates for making your own paper toys. You can view a video about the book here.

Some of the work in Paper: Tear, Fold, Rip, Crease, Cut is featured here.

And here's an interesting article about the survival of paper as a medium for expression in an increasingly paperless world.

Books and Babies

 

This is Sylvie (right) with her first friend, Eden. This photograph really has nothing to do with the rest of this post, except both babies were in tow when Eden's mom and I stopped at the library this morning.

Once there, I picked up some books I've had on order: The Country Child and A Traveller in Time, are both by Alison Uttley, although The Country Child is autobiographical and A Traveler in Time is fiction. I was inspired to do so when Maud linked to an interview with A. S. Byatt in which she discussed some of the children's authors that influenced The Children's Book. I would have known without being told that E. Nesbit was a huge influence due to having read Julia Briggs' biography of her, A Woman of Passion, but I'd never even heard of Uttley. (A sidenote: Maud found James Wood's opinion of A. S. Byatt as  “a very ordinary grown-ups’ writer and a very good children’s writer” ludicrous. I agree if you're assessing Byatt's whole body of work but I think if you're only examining The Children's Book, there's a ring of truth to what Wood says, although in my opinion Byatt is a great children's writer. While Maud's review is more astute than Wood's, the parts of The Children's Book that have stayed with me are the stories ostensibly written for children. And the one about the girl and the little people and the giants is downright haunting. I'm sure James Wood meant that statement as a kind of insult but I'd much prefer to be a great children's writer than an ordinary one for adults.)

I'm on a bit of a Hilary Mantel binge since Wolf Hall: A Novel and scored both Every Day Is Mother's Day and Fludd: A Novel. I'm kind of blown away by how different Mantel's books are one from the other.

I am planning to read every children's book about families Babelbabe recommends over here (except for the ones I've read already) and last week I started with Caddy Ever After, which I found both charming and funny. This week I picked up another by the same author, Hilary McKay, Indigo's Star. Bb also recommended The Saturdays, which seems awfully familiar now that I've got it in my hot little hands. I think it might be one of those long-lost childhood favourites.

Also, on the recommendation of my friend Ed, I picked up Matthew Kneale's When We Were Romans. Reviews of this call it extraordinary.

And last but not least -- in fact, this is the one I'll probably read first -- Selected Stories of Robert Walser arrived. Lydia Davis (my idol) mentioned him in her discussion of flash fiction with Sarah Manguso and I'm planning to track down and read everyone she mentioned. Since flash fiction is sort of my thing. 

Here are some more gratuitous shots of the babies. (Psst, Kat and Gramma, click on the photos to enlarge.)

 

 

The Credible Hulk Performs Extensive Taste Tests

November 1st is a great day to add to Luke's wardrobe. This half price Credible Hulk (as Luke refers to him) costume will get a lot of wear over the next year.

November 1st is also a good day to perform extensive taste tests. Luke decided to compare and contrast the following fruit candies:

Each candy was given a rating of great, good, or bad:

 

And then ranked in order of preference:

 

And then Luke fell over in a sugar-induced coma.

Last Night

Although we'd made Luke a fabulous spider hat and he had a lovely king costume from last year, an hour before it was time to start trick-or-treating he decided he wanted to wear his Spiderman costume, which is practically day wear for him. Here he is with his dear friend Ella, who startled her mother, my dear friend Kat, by telling people, "Oh, I already have a bag of cheesies." And "My mother said I can't have chips." (Not true.) Also: "I think I'm allergic to peanuts." (She is not.)

At one point Ella had to retreat into a forested area with her mother in order to  pee. Luke and I went further down the road to give her some privacy but that didn't stop him from listening intently. "I think I can hear the spray coming out of her penis," he remarked.

Fun times.

Happy Birthday, Den!

It's my brother's 36th birthday today. As his friend Darren remarked on Facebook, he looks like Dionysus. Come to think of it, it's amazing how much he is like his namesake. While he ate his breakfast in bed, his three children (all under the age of 4), their mother Caro, and our mom performed a dance to Michael Jackson's Thriller. Seems like a perfect way to start the day.

That's me and Den on this day, a thousand years ago.

I don't know how it's possible that my once younger brother is now 36 while I'm still 29. Something's gone wonky with the space-time continuum. Must have been those Russians, trying to get to Mars...

Happy Halloween!

We interviewed a new babysitter today.

Just kidding.

Actually, that's our hairdresser, Diane. Also true: she woke up with a bad headache this morning.

Our H1N1 Flu Vaccination Experience

Registration at our local H1N1 flu vaccine clinic in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia started yesterday at 12:30 pm. They started giving shots at 1:00 pm. We got there at about 12:45 pm. This was the line in front of us. It snakes out of camera range and around the corner. The woman in red was pushing a stroller that held a two-year-old. Luckily, it was sunny and not too terribly cold.

This was the line behind us an hour or two later. We learned that some people had arrived that morning at 6:30 am. (The older couple directly behind us, not pictured here, were the parents of the head of public health for our region.)

 

This was the line behind us around 5 or 5:30 pm. You can see Luke trying to climb up on the wall there and David in his business suit looking at him. (He'd thought he'd get the shot and go back to work.) You can't see Grandpa pushing Sylvie's stroller, but they were there.

Sylvie had a bottle when we first got there and then again around 3. We fed her standing there in line, which was a bit awkward. We were able to go inside the building and change her diaper in a kind of storage closet. She'd had her own four month vaccinations the day before and so she slept a lot. Luke had eaten his snacks by about 1:30. We sent David and Luke to get Tim Horton's sandwiches and coffee around 4. I had to send David home for another bottle for Sylvie around 6. The people in the line were very patient if someone in a group left and came back. I even saw people hold spots for strangers who were alone.

In the above photo, Luke is standing in a playground -- there are swings and a slide behind me -- and it was packed with kids  all day. There was also a soccer field. Luke and David ran around it for at least two hours. Although there were lots of families there with babies and small children, most of them were in good spirits. I think the kids enjoyed the fresh air. Of course, by the time we got inside the clinic -- at 7:10 pm -- it was bedtime for most of them and they were getting extremely cranky by that point. There was lots of crying inside but miraculously, not from our two.

Inside the clinic, the scene looked like something out of a disaster movie. We had to wait to register and then view a film informing us of the pertinent facts about the vaccine. (The video was on repeat the whole day and you could hear the female narrator droning once you got close to the door). Then we had to wait again to get the vaccine. There were about fifteen people giving the shots to family groups behind cardboard screens. Unfortunately, the screens didn't really provide much privacy. I noticed a poor girl, maybe around ten years old, who cried hysterically and flinched violently every time the nurse tried to give her the needle. Her mother tried to hold her down but it looked to me as if they gave up in the end. She had two siblings who did get the needle -- so their seven-hour wait wasn't completely in vain. I spent most of my time trying to distract Luke from watching. He, David, and I had gotten our seasonal flu shots from our family doctor the day before (she didn't have the H1N1) and he had gone to bed crying about having to get another shot the next day. But he did remarkably well -- no tears at all.

After Grandpa, David, Luke and I had all gotten our shots (we adults had gotten them to protect Sylvie, who's only twenty weeks old and so can't be vaccinated), we had to wait fifteen minutes to make sure we didn't have any reactions. We left the building at 8:30 pm. I took Sylvie home and put her to bed, two and a half hours late. David had to take Luke to a store to buy him a Hot Wheels toy I'd promised he could get after the shot, even though it was so late. The child would not hear of waiting until today and frankly, none of us could blame him. He finally got to bed at 10:30, three hours late.

Luke and I have sore arms today. He seems fine. I am exhausted. But happy that we all got the shots.

 

Many, many children passed the time happily ripping plants out of the planters and "planting" them in the sand on the playground. It became a kind of fad. This is one such "garden" around 6 pm. I guess their parents were too tired to make a fuss about it. Or maybe their eyes were too glazed over to even notice.