Girl Detective

My doc confirms that I am doing much better with my post-partum depression. It was good to get her perspective, since I’ve seen her every couple weeks. Two visits ago, I had several of the symptoms of PPD. Last visit, I was better, but had trouble concentrating, not least because I had both boys with me. This time, I only took Guppy, but my concentration was much improved. I still feel periodically angry and constantly tired, but those are normal, given that I’m the primary caregiver for a 3yo and a 9mo.

Is parenting one long string of “I swore I’d never do/say that”? Sometimes it feels like it. Yesterday I locked up the books in Drake’s room. He stopped napping a while back, and instead would page through many of his books. But he’s been sick and slow to recover, and I suspected that he needed the rest more than the reading. So I locked his book closet and removed other distractions from his room. Lo and behold, he slept. I know better, though, than to exult over a one-time occurrence. I did it again today, and he has been singing for 25 minutes.

I mentioned in one of my last posts that I wouldn’t be getting to books on my shelf for a while. Pages Turned lists authors on her shelf that she has two books by, but hasn’t yet read. While I’ve got two, and sometimes even three, unread books by certain authors, I have usually read something else by them.

Authors I haven’t read with two or more on the TBR pile :

Peter Ackroyd
Patricia Highsmith (an omnibus of three Ripley novels)
Vernor Vinge

Authors I’ve read with two or more books on the TBR pile:

Julian Barnes
Lois McMaster Bujold
Angela Carter
Paula Fox
Mary Gaitskill
Ernest Hemingway
Iris Murdoch
Philip Pullman
Neal Stephenson
David Foster Wallace
P. G. Wodehouse

Additionally, I have six books (of eight) from Persephone that I haven’t yet read.

My husband G. Grod and I were at our wits end last weekend with Drake’s behavior. He threw extravagant tantrums (e.g., a twenty minute one on the front lawn of church), he did WWF-style body slams on baby Guppy, he hit and kicked us repeatedly, and he laughed when we punished him by taking away his cars or giving him a time out. Things were so out of hand that I even checked out parenting books from the library, something I have avoided almost entirely until now.

Then on Tuesday, I picked him up from pre-school, and the teacher and his friend’s mother said he’d complained that his ear hurt. I’d been asking for days if it did; he always said no. So I made an appointment for him and found that the ear he wasn’t complaining about was infected, and the one he WAS complaining about was not only infected, but had a blister on his eardrum. I didn’t know whether to be happy that he told SOMEBODY, even if it wasn’t me, or aggravated with the proof against the parental platitude of “oh, when they’re older it’s easier because they can tell you what’s wrong.” But I was definitely relieved that there was an explanation for the downturn in behavior. After a few days of antibiotics, though, I’m still wishing for a more dramatic upswing.

Well, I must admit, I’m full of it. For all my passionate protest that I was going to limit my library request queue and instead read books on the shelf, I have one library book (One Good Turn by Kate Atkinson, so I’d like to re-read Case Histories, which I read from the library and then bought because I loved) at home, another in at the library that I AM going to pick up and read (Special Topics in Calamity Physics, because I don’t want to miss all the discussion, and everyone’s reading it), plus I’m going to see Isabel Allende, so I got one of her books from the library and bought her newest from Target because it was on sale. A friend just lent me a book. Plus there’s Siblings Without Rivalry, that I got from the library since Drake has finally figured out that whomping on Guppy bothers G. Grod and me, or Dickens A Christmas Carol, which my book group is reading for December.

I’m full of it because I’m (mostly) unrepentant. I’m going to read my library books. More damning, I went to my queue, intending to delete all forthcoming books, but I could only delete one. I found myself incapable of deleting The Thirteenth Tale, since I’ve read that it’s such fun, and I’m 25th on the list. I also didn’t delete Mockingbird, since I just finished To Kill a Mockingbird, and want to know more.

So that’s ten books, none of which are shelf sitters. Worse, there are only six weeks left in the year, and my reading rate has slowed considerably with fall tv and changes in Guppy’s nursing patterns. I may not get to a shelf book till well into the new year.

G. Grod, Drake and Guppy have ear infections and are in various stages of an amoxicillin regimen. Baby Guppy is teething. We’re all rather grumpy.

Years ago, I was having dinner at a friend’s house, when I saw a flyer on her refrigerator for a book group. I thought the list of books looked good, and I was excited at the idea of getting together with people to discuss them. “Hey,” I asked, “Can I join this?” Another woman standing behind me, not yet my good friend, said, “Yes, I’d like to as well.” We were both invited to join, but we had to read Isabel Allende’s House of the Spirits in a few days. The other woman managed to finish; I did not. But both of us were members of that group until we moved. It was a good book group, not the kind people make fun of. We always discussed the book. One of the standards for choosing books was that they be challenging. There was good food and drink. And it was a good community of support made up of women from different disciplines.

This week a friend said she had an extra ticket to go see Allende at the Fitzgerald on Friday night. I’m not sure if I’m just going to the reading, or to my friend’s book group meeting too, but they’re on two different books. Allende is speaking for the Talking Volumes group on her newest novel, Ines of my Soul. But my friend’s book group read Zorro. So once again I find myself trying to cram in a lot of Allende in just a few days.

After three false starts, my writing group says I’m on the right track with my latest draft. Attempt #1 was my draft from NaNoWriMo ‘04, #2 was modifying that to a single character, #3 was making that a four-person narrative, and now attempt #4 at novel #2 is something completely different. The three previous attempts are shelved, perhaps permanently. If I’m lucky, some stuff may work its way into this manuscript, or a future one.

I attended a panel discussion on writing at the Minneapolis Central library earlier this week. Sandra Benitez said she’d once written 50 pages that she’d had to junk. I’m fairly chagrined at the 200+ pages I have to junk, but it’s a huge relief to feel I’m finally on the right track.

The other writers on the panel were Judith Guest, her daughter-in-law Patricia Weaver Francisco, and Kate DiCamillo. Absent was Allison McGhee. All are part of a ten-person writing group, though they claim not to talk about writing, ever.

“We drink,” quipped DiCamillo, who also subverted her children’s book author persona by reading from an adult short story.

“_Adult_ adult?” asked Guest, in mock horror.

DiCamillo denied it, but the excerpt she read contained not only profanity (”I used ‘asshole’ so you know I mean business,” she joked) but a 60-foot tall sculpture of a knight that she described as “erect.” The suggestive adjective was one that Charlotte Bronte used several times in Jane Eyre, a book DiCamillo also evoked in her Newbery-award book The Tale of Despereaux, with her direct addresses to the reader.

The panel was fun, though superficial, and the few things I took away were only implied: writing is easier without kids, or when kids are older. Minnesota is a good place for a transplanted writer to live. And a late start isn’t a barrier to writing success.

Season 3 of Veronica Mars doesn’t hold the same thrill for me as did Season 1, but it’s still pretty entertaining. Last week, I noted that the TA’s hair was weird, and he might be a woman, and in that case couldn’t be the rapist. Boy did I feel silly for making that assumption when he told Veronica smugly that there had been no DNA evidence in the case yet.

With the disclaimer that I’m terrible at predicting things on shows, I will venture to guess that the TA was not born with male DNA and male parts. Either he’s a pseudo-hermaprodite (male DNA, but physically more female looking than male) or he was born with female DNA and has either undergone reassignment treatment (hormones and/or surgery) or cross dresses in order to identify as a male.

Just because he’s not what he seems doesn’t mean he’s the villain, though, and I hope he’s not. I have no problem with making B-movie actors (Harry Hamlin and Steve Gutenberg) the bad guys, as they were in Seasons 1 and 2. But a transsexual as the villain just adds to the objectification and vilification of an already marginalized group.

Logan’s mysterious announcement at the end of the last episode made me roll my eyes and hope that he was with another girl. Long ago I loved the chemistry between them. Now they bore me. My favorite couple on TV now is Helo and Athena from Battlestar Galactica.

And speaking of TV couples, I’m suspicious of how Bones can progress and not kill the chemistry between the leads. Did anyone else feel last week’s Vegas episode felt like something out of Angel? Maybe it was the goofiness.

When I wrote about panacea songs, I forgot to mention George Winston’s December. Years ago, when I lived in Philly, my girlfriends and I would go for sushi at Genji when we needed to talk or build up emotional reserves. December was often playing in the background, and it will always remind me of good sushi and supportive friendships.

Baby Guppy finally got his first tooth at 9 months+. He is crawling now, and not just pivoting. And he got his first ear infection last week, after having (as did Drake and I) three colds in six weeks.

Today I have been:

peed on
smeared with poop
stabbed at with a pen
hit
kicked
smeared with snot
coughed on
sneezed on
screamed at

I don’t know why I’m depressed. Motherhood is SO rewarding.

Kidding. I can tell I’m doing better because today has merely bent, not broken me. I got a long, hot shower in, and that made a world of difference.

So far, my 3yo son Drake enjoys preschool. I appreciate that he’s meeting other kids and making cute crafts. But I exclaimed in excitement when I picked him up last week. Book club order forms! While I’ve enacted draconian cutbacks in book purchases for me and the husband, I am beside myself with excitement as I page through the options. I am overcome by nostalgia for one of the few things I remember fondly about school–these book order forms.

So many books! So cheap! How will I decide?

I’m not sure how I missed this, but I suspect it’s because I stay at home with my kids and no longer work in an office, where sugar fixes are SOP, but my new favorite candy is Hershey’s Take 5. The five elements are peanuts, peanut butter, milk chocolate, pretzels and caramel. Four of the elements: ho hum, been there. But pretzels in a candy bar? Bravo! I deliberately held back a few from those that we gave out, and I was very happy when Drake put some into his pile for the Sugar Sprite. Now if only they would make it in dark chocolate rather than milk.

Sugar Sprite update: Drake asked for candy the two days after Halloween, and has now forgotten about it. The remaining four pieces languish in the pantry, awaiting active duty as bribes.

Speaking of pretzels, I think Chubby Hubby is good, not great. Instead, I take Sonny’s Vanilla Bean ice cream, top it with crushed pretzels, and drizzle with Wild Country maple syrup.

Years ago, when I was in grad school, an erudite English friend lent me her copy of the Arden Hamlet, with her notes from her secondary-school Shakespeare class. The Arden editions have useful and copious footnotes, but I found my friend’s notes even more helpful. It was very hard for me to give her back her book, since I felt I learned so much from it. Buying my own Arden copy helped. A bit.

Currently, I’m reading To Kill a Mockingbird, and I still have the copy I read in 9th grade English class. My notes are in hot-pink ink, in a rounded script that is sufficiently different from my current one that I didn’t immediately recognize it as my own. But what’s most disconcerting is the pedestrian tenor of the notations and underlinings. They probably were quotes from my English teacher, a very nice man who also happened to farm hogs. When I re-read comments such as “shows Jem’s maturation” or “themes: empathy, prejudice,” I cringe. I very much wish my 9th-grade self had been more sophisticated, and not just in pen-color choice and script style. It’s humbling to compare these glaringly obvious notes with the memory of my friend’s more complex ones in her Hamlet.

I am familiar with the disappointment that my education was not what I wish it had been, and envy of my friend’s experience. Yet I console myself with a few things. One, I have taken responsibility for my own ongoing education, and have progressed at least enough to have moved beyond my 9th-grade understanding of To Kill a Mockingbird. And two, To Kill a Mockingbird, while a very good book, is no Hamlet. It’s a book that’s easy to teach, with clear themes and language. Hamlet is complex enough that scholars are still arguing over it centuries later. To Kill a Mockingbird might be appreciated in the coming centuries, I don’t think it has the subtlety to inspire similar debate.

Michelle at Overdue Books (found via Pages Turned) has issued the From the Stacks Winter Reading Challenge:

If you are anything like me your stack of purchased to-be-read books is teetering over. So for this challenge we would be reading 5 books that we have already purchased, have been meaning to get to, have been sitting on the nightstand and haven’t read before. No going out and buying new books. No getting sidetracked by the lure of the holiday bookstore displays.

The bonus would be that we would finally get to some of those titles (you know you picked them for a reason!) and we wouldn’t be spending any extra money over the holidays.

While it’s a laudable goal, I don’t think I’ll be officially participating in the challenge. Time is particularly crunchy lately, and I’m trying to counteract my tendency to do one more thing. I’ll certainly attempt to do it on my site, since it coincides with what I’ve been trying to do anyway, which is read old stuff and not buy new stuff. But I’m not sure I want to commit to a list of 5. The last reading challenge I did showed me how restrictive reading lists quickly become. I’ve got so many candidates vying for my attention that there are probably no wrong answers. But I think I may have a glance over my mass market paperbacks, which have been temporarily exiled to the porch off baby Guppy’s room. They don’t get the same face time and consideration as the HCs and TPs do, so I think I’ll give them some equal opportunity.

From “Let’s review the roadkill from Tuesday’s election”
Nick Coleman, Star Tribune

Spoiling to be Spoilers: The Independence Party has begun to give “good government” a bad name. The party called itself “Team Minnesota” but forgot there is no “I” in “team.” Peter Hutchinson got an embarrassing 6 percent of the votes in the governor’s race, and his statewide total of 141,800 was close to the total received by the LOSING candidate for Hennepin County sheriff, despite the fact many Minnesotans embraced his party’s platform. Ol’ Hutch can chisel “Finished a Distant Third” on his tombstone, but had no effect on the 2006 election. Except for the spoiler part. The Independence Party is supposed to care about what’s best for Minnesota. If so, Hutchinson might have said, “Only one person can win, and it’s not me. Please vote for the viable candidate who most favors my platform, Mike Hatch.” If just 22,523 Hutchinson voters (16 percent of his total) had voted for Hatch, Hutchinson would be in line for a post in the Hatch administration. Some folks are just too smart for their own good.

Dear fellow Minnesotans: Didn’t you learn a lesson from the last several elections? When a Republican, a Democrat, and a third party run, the third party will take votes from one contender, in most cases the Democrat. The result is that the Republican is elected, which can hardly be desired by those who are voting third party. This is how Pawlenty got elected the first time, and it’s how he got elected again. If you add the votes for the DFL candidate with the votes for the independent candidate, you get a number that would have defeated Pawlenty handily. And yet he’s still here. Not only because of those who voted for him, but because of those who voted against his most viable opponent, the DFL candidate. While we voted for instant runoff voting for municipal races, until instant runoff is implemented at all levels, the governor’s race might as well be a two party system. Anyone who votes otherwise is likely to elect their last choice.

This morning, I wondered where that strange chemical smell was coming from. The neighbor’s new roof? Oh, no. It’s me. Curse you, Dr. Bronner’s.

I tried the eucalyptus soap, figuring it would be good for sore, post-yoga muscles. I didn’t find it any better than the peppermint, which I quite like. But the lingering scent was a weird, pungent one that I found unpleasant. I found myself in the odd position of needing to take another shower to wash off the smell of the soap from the previous one. Rather than playing it safe with my old reliable, Dove for Sensitive Skin, I decided to throw caution to the wind and try Neutrogena’s Energizing Sugar Body Scrub. It smells of citrus, and left my winter skin feeling well hydrated. I followed it with the Neutrogena body oil, and I think I’ll be able not only to endure, but to enjoy, the scents tomorrow.

Added later: The Neutrogena Sugar Scrub leaves a huge mess in the shower, and should only be used sparingly, with care taken to dissolve the crystals completely.

Another of my bizarre theories is that we’re born knowing yoga. Baby Guppy did an extraordinary bound angle pose this morning. Last week, I was watching 3yo Drake at the park. He flopped down, and I thought, oh, look, he’s in plank position. He then moved his chest forward into upward dog, then shifted his weight back into downward dog, doing the moves in sequence from a sun salute. And no, I don’t and haven’t done these yoga poses in front of him. I tried to teach him triangle pose, and that was a complete flop. But every so often he’ll bust out another move, so I continue to believe that yoga classes merely remind us of skills our bodies have forgotten from childhood.