Ava and Carter are sick again. This time Carter is really the one suffering—he has unbelievable mucous coming out of his nose. It just pours out. That plus the drooling from his teeth makes him a gooey mess all day. He is generally pretty happy though, so at least he is a pleasant gob of sticky fluids.

He is determined to talk, but only says the first sound of most words, so it is easy to dismiss him as babbling. But if you pay attention, he is trying to tell you what he wants or what he sees. However, he has definitely got the power of “MA! MAMA! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” figured out.

Our mealtimes have evolved to something approaching pleasant repasts. We continue to make an effort to light a candle and sing the blessing, and the three of us usually manage to remain seated until most of the food is consumed. I have found that if I serve dinner between 4 and 4:30 all goes well. Any later and there is usually some sort of mutiny. What I find astonishing is that: 1. I have the time to actually cook a real meal and 2. I do this 3 times a day. Clearly it is in their best interests to have the regularity and ritual of breakfast, lunch and dinner, but this is SO NOT ME. I never eat lunch if left to my own devices—my natural schedule is brunch and dinner. I tend to stop and reflect as I am cooking a mid-day meal (roughly 1 hour after finally completing the clean-up from breakfast) and start to hear the Talking Heads in my mind: “This is not my beautiful life. This is not my beautiful house…Many days go by….bah de bah de bah de dah…”(I am fairly certain that the song was not written with me in mind, but some postmodern literary analysis can remedy that.)

Anyway, I am thoroughly domesticated and I think I am doing a pretty good job of it on average—today they all had French toast for breakfast. This is so exciting for me, because it means that Ava actually likes a breakfast food other than bacon and eggs. Until now, she had eschewed anything that required syrup. That eliminates a huge amount of really fun breakfast things. She still does not really like cereal. So weird.

On Saturday we went to the “Merry Elves Gift Faire” at the Northern Lights School, and both kids had a blast. The snow queen was there, ensconced in her snow cave (sheets and twinkle-y lights) and after Ava overcame her initial fear of going in, she visited her about 5 times. We made ornaments, bought some gifts, had some food, and played. I had a parental duty to contribute in some way, so I offered to clean-up. Towards the end, Ava was getting tired, and she asked when we were going home. I told her that I had to help by cleaning up first. She leapt up and said “what can I clean up?” I told her that I did not know, perhaps she could ask Miss Kim. Miss Kim told her to ask Miss Peggy. Miss Peggy was in the other room, so off Ava went. When I finished nursing Carter I went in to find her and Miss Peggy said “Look at your daughter!” and there she was, cleaning tables with a cloth. Very happy, very occupied and very proud of herself. She then launched herself into a series of other projects, including folding the sheets of the snow queen’s cave (with another mother entirely), picking up, moving little chairs back to their proper place, and so on. I cannot emphasize how proud I was of her. All of the other kids were playing like crazy, and had she joined in I would have been thrilled with that, but it was so CUTE to watch her set to work with absolute seriousness. Says a bit about her future personality, I think. It certainly got the attention of the other adults.

Finally, I recently finished “White Teeth” by Zadie Smith. Unbelievable novel. When I started it, I almost returned it to the bookstore, because the characters in it were so miserable, so NOT what I wanted to read about, but I stuck it out and it turned out to be one of the best novels that I have ever read. She got a lot of press for this novel (as well as a teaching position at the University of Chicago, I think—it might have been Columbia), and it is well deserved. There is no way to summarize this book. London, 20th century, immigrants, working class, issues of identity, history, faith, and legacy all wrapped up in one rambling but ultimately tight little package. And funny too. Really funny. The British have such a way with words that we consider inappropriate for polite company. Somehow they can use the F-word and sound so civilized. Her ability to observe people and their emotional baggage is astounding. Highly recommended.

Now on to her next book…um, I mean, now on to statistics…