fine or not fine

driving in the car the other day...

ally told me she was going to look out the window and see if there was anything wrong. i went on talking to lauren, who was in the passenger seat. sure enough, a minute later ally rolled down the window and yelled, "WRONG!"

doesn't it make you wonder what was wrong?

today she expanded her purview: now she will yell--wrong! trouble! broken! fine or not fine!--as the occasion warrants. also, she is watching out for any baby polar bears that need rescuing. my friends, she is on the job.

"no" has five syllables

when someone asks me, "what's new?" i usually don't have much of an answer. but when you have little kids, something is always new--often something mundane that has moved to the forefront of the daily routine. it's almost not worth mentioning, and yet.

my days for the last few months have revolved around a very mundane task--one that so many of you find very simple. today we got into the car eight times and that means we were very busy.

after we get shoes and pants on {optional today, as it turned out}, collect all the beloved objects, and do the dance of the whirling wills, with all its complicated and ever-changing steps, we open the door and go outside.

the moment "car" is mentioned, Liv reminds me that she will need to "climb" into her seat herself. i don't say that she "wants" to climb in, just that she needs to. also she needs to buckle herself in.

given her need to do this even when she was too sick to smile--on the way to urgent care, even--i know that it's something she has to do, and so i suffer it. i suffer it. and she's getting a little better at it {when she wants to}, so i guess that's my reward. one day she will be able to open the door, climb in, close the door behind her, get into the seat and work all the buckles, just like Ally did...the day before she outgrew the car seat and moved into a booster.

friday pictures

an operation

family portrait

cat

Mom

Aunt Megan when she was a baby:

dad

send me your saints

which one is the patron saint of sick babies? i will trade in st. valentine for that one today.

they're taking turns taking care of each other, which is a relief because as i write this i am wearing clothes that are spotted with things that were once in liv's stomach. i hit a low yesterday and am feeling like recovery is possible today. liv came out of the bedroom on her own legs this morning and that is a big deal.

this virus is not for kids. it's an adult-strength freight train of an illness and it has had us by the throat for two weeks.

i hope soon we'll be back to our full "YAAAAAAAAAA" selves.

happy valentine's day.

the anxiety of influence

'the anxiety of influence' is a term coined by Harold Bloom, in reference to the theory that a poet (or for my purposes, any artist) has to get out from under the tradition of past great artists in order to achieve an individual voice.

a friend asked me recently to talk to her youth class at church about living an art-infused life. i tried to get the kids to tell me what kind of art they practiced regularly (singing in the shower or doodling, even) and they weren't tripping over themselves to tell me. i doubt that means they don't practice art, but i was still a little surprised that they weren't more enthusiastic about it. high school can be heavy on the evaluation, though, and light on the joy.

don't you just really believe art makes life better? i will never excel at one form of art, probably, because i'm always trying to do everything at once, but at this point in my life i don't mind that. nobody's handing out grades and i find it delightfully easy to impress people aged 4 and under.

i am interested to see if Ally's interest in drawing and creating art continues past her preschool years. in one of these pictures you can see that she sketched out her portrait of PJ before painting it. one of her favorite things to do is dictate stories to me, which she illustrates and i transcribe. titles include:

The Kitty Who Sat on a Muffet

The Piggy and a Siggy and a Figgy

Here is "Cinderella Little Betty Blue"

Well, when she was a baby she grew up. Little Betty Blue lost her shoe. Came along a man who said, "Little Betty Blue, you have lost your shoe." And the soccer player guys said, "Little Betty Blue, you cannot play too." Along came a little doggie named Scotty and he said, "Grrr. I smell little blue shoes." THE END

so, clearly influenced by nursery rhymes, but not afraid to steal and make it her own. i like that about children.

let's all make some art!

grey skies are gonna clear up

series, backwards