Perseide

I wish I could buy myself new shoes every month.
I wish I could buy myself a painting every now and then.
I wish I could go to the Opera every week.
I wish I could pluck my eyebrows whenever it's needed.
I wish I could go for a walk, alone, sometimes. And with my family more often.
I wish I could hold the time, sometimes. And to wind it faster, other times.
I wish I could buy an insurance for my children to be lucky.
I wish people were more naive, and have less self pity. Me included.
I wish I could cure the fears. At least to find some palliative treatment for fear.
But, anyway, during the summer I wish it was winter and the other way around.



I'm sure there's some story saying the same thing with less words.

Facts

Lest I forget.

My grandmother was born in January 1913. In the summer of 1917, when the Germans invaded our country, she was old enough to remember. She was telling us how her oldest brother, who was about 18, took the horses in the woods, to hide them from the invaders, and how they loaded a full carriage with their most precious and most necessary belongings and left for the city, for there was nothing left for them in their village. Being the youngest, she was on top of the pile of packages, and was always ending her story with the image of smoke coming from the woods, and her question, always the same: "Do you think the horses survived?"


In 1942, she was a teacher in another village. The children were 3 and 1. Her husband was on the front, somewhere in Russia. A mate of him, named Fish, on leave, passed with a note from my grandfather: "Send me with mate fish socks and shirts". She did send socks, shirts, and after a frantic search at all the people in the village she found some smoked fish and sent it too. My grandfather laughed and laughed, the fish, all rotten, arrived wiith mate Fish . But mate Fish was collected in a blanket from the front, anmd never made it home.

My other grandfather was a carpenter. Widower, with three small children, he was taken in the army in 1942 and become a prisoner, and was forgotten in a camp in Siberia until he was diagnosed with a tumour in 1956. He came home to find his only son adopted by someone, his teenage girls strangers. He did have enough time left to marry again and have a new son and daughter. He died soon after the daughter's birth. The new son died at 33, forgotten by the doctors on a corridor. The daughter died last December, aged 55, from a tumour.

There are other stories, too.

I was there when you were born

The day of her birth, it was snowing with small and rare flakes. Her father drove me to the hospital and left me there and he carried on for the school pick up. I slowly crossed the street, worrying that I'll dampen my stuff in the carry-on. It was a gray and melancholic midday.

Her name means God had mercy or God's gift, Yahveh hannah. She'll be four soon. She's spoilt. She's bright. She's strawberry blond as opposed to her dark hair dark eyes mother. She's lithe. She can naturally sing and dance, as opposed to her mother. At bedtime she prefers quizzes over stories. She's fluent in two languages and speaks fairly well German and English. She can write and read some. She has a great sense of colour. She knows how to push people's buttons. She's sensitive and witty. She has an amazing sense of conversation. She's so much a woman it takes my breath away. She wakes up with a wonderful smile, like a creature of the woods and the fresh lakes in the mountains. Sometimes, I honestly expect her to turn up with green leaves in her hair, as if she's come from some fairies. She's ticklish. She's like a small tabby, always ready to be given a cuddle. She likes me to lift her on the kitchen counter and wants to help. And then she asks for a reward and a surprise. She's leading her brothers by their noses. And her father. And her mother. She can measure precisely everyone's inner force and adjusts her behaviour accordingly. Sometimes she's the small creature of the woods and sometimes she's the epitome of sophistication and civilisation. I still perceive har as the ultimate undeserved gift: the gift of life. Das Ewig Weibliche.

As of today, everyday

Sometimes I'm so happy that my heart is bursting. Other times I'm so depressed that I feel like I'm living in a sea of cold, old suet. And sometimes I'm at peace with my life.

I have been thinking a lot about feelings and responsability. As in, if one loves someone, is this ensuing any responsibilities? And I'm not talking about children, of course. But, actually, what does a marriage means. No, not about the fact that the sparkles have a very short shelf life.

What does "I love you" has in its wake? Why should it have anything? What does the "I do" stand for? What do I expect from myself in this cat cradle? And from the other one who's implicated?

The only thing that's clear, at the moment, for me, is that I'm grateful we had children so unconsciously fast, and a lot of them for that matter. What they are giving every day, what they are teaching me every day is so heavy in substance that it makes me reflect on a lot of things from a new perspective.

I wish I was less prudish, to be able to crack the door a little larger on things. Nothing happened, in fact, and in no way do I try to change the coordinates of my life. It's just… well, maybe I become older and somehow accept more the people as they are.

Redivivus!

Someone once said that the only person in the world that you can count on is you and only you.
I want to add that lonelier than this statement is the realisation that you are the only one there for your child/ren. If possible, with the eventual partner to face against. And that there's no acknowledgement whatsoever. Whatever.

november, the innocent one

Her birthday was at a time I couldn't think of it.
Gray's birthday-idem.
Ruby's half-birthday-ditto.

I miss Niobe!


http://deadbabyjokes.blogspot.com/

I do understand and appreciate everything about her quitting, but I feel like whining at the moment.

When I was five or something, at the seaside, he took me on his back and swam. I try to remember the way his shoulders felt in my arms.

At my wedding party, he took me to dance and told me: "Fly, my little girl, spread your wings and fly!"; I was thinking that he's cheesy, like he likes to be with me, and maybe just a tiny intoxicated.


When I had the little one he told me: "I wanted you so, so much to have a daughter, I'm blissfully happy now!".


When my brother and I were in school, like 7-8-10 years old, every afternoon, before Mum came home, we were on him, asking everything about anything; he would answer any question which was asked in English.


I was like 13 or 14, in the evening, in the slow time after dinner but before bed, combing my hair in my room. He passed by, and said that I was beautiful.


He never, ever slapped me, in any way, he was never mad at me. He has never let me down. He has always let me know he loves me and my brats. He never judged me. Every choice I made in my life was for him a reason to be proud of me. He told me openly how proud he was of my children.


I realize he was very handsome, but it was his duty, wasn't it, to be perfect.


On the morning of a beautiful September Sunday, three weeks ago, Mum found him by the bed, facing sunrise. I hope he saw that last sweet sunrise.


He was the first man I loved, and the longest love story in my life.
I understand how genuine is the Jewish tradition to ripe the clothes at a death.


I lost my father.


And there's no comfort.

breaded

How battered, so to speak, can one be, that when hope shows up, one is distrusting appearance even more?

What way of conduct is that when one plays "this is what it has always been", thinks "how long before it strikes again", and yet hopes "this is the day when everything finally comes together"?

How to keep to hope, be prepared for the cinical prediction, and yet be serene?

Is someone going to have a certain physiological thing in a few days time?

tragedy

Tonight, there's been an explosion at the NICU of one of the maternity clinics here. Three newborns dead, four with 70-80% of the skin burnt, four with "only" 30 to 50%. They have trouble identifying the babies; the bracelets are also burnt.

God bless them!

http://www.romanialibera.ro/actualitate/eveniment/incendiu-la-maternitatea-giulesti-3-bebelusi-au-murit-8-sunt-raniti-grav-196648.html

ETA: One week later; one of the babies died the following night, and another one a few nights later. There are six left to fight out of the eleven that were in the NICU at the time of the fire. All of them prematures, ranging from two pounds to five pounds. Two sets of twins, two boys and then a boy and a girl. The clinic is a national center for medically assisted human reproduction. Search for Adriana Iliescu.

They showed on TV a lot of things. The most striking one for me was a new father loading not a carseat in the backseat, but a tiny coffin he was holding under his arm, like a newspaper, in the carboot.

The sand merchant

I haven't found what I was looking for, but I found something else.

See, every now and then this shell I'm living in is giving me some threats. One way or another, it says "You, up there, slow down or else!" And I shudder and think "What else?". Well, of course, the pump.

So I'm facing some boring procedures, one sometime this autumn, the other one in the spring. What I like the most about the second one is that it's some sort of plastic surgery, thank you very much. Plastic surgery, my dear, she will be naive again!

Otherwise, not much. I'm sanding the rails of the crib to build some nightstands. I've got help!

I can't hear you

Let's say someone makes a comitment. And it involves someone else. And let's say the first person, X, is sticking through sun and snow to the comitment. And so does the other one, Y. And they are both honest, hard working people, the kind that radiates good energy, shine and laughter.

Only Y is sometimes taking a break. Nothing that would set X free of the contract, just breaks where Y acts as there are only singing birds in the clear blue sky. And in doing so, Y loses something, let's say money.

And, just to continue the plot, let us imagine it happens two to six times a year, for ten or more years. In this time, some good fortune is lost. And, to add some spice, imagine X and Y are taking care of some people all this time. And these people, the third party, are those who lose the most out of the breaks Y takes.

If anyone is reading, and if out of those imaginary readers there are some who have been through something similar or just have enough imagination to keep all the parties involved in mind, what would this/those people say to X, to Y, to the third party? What did/would they do?

Of course this is just an imaginary situation.

Teenage?

I have too many things boiling on the stove. I'm going to spill one by one.



Let's start with a good one.

At the beginning I wanted a child. So much so, I was bursting with love to be given. I was at the right age. For the first time, I was in the right place to fulfill a dream; the dream concluded with the perfect boy. Luscious lips, blond hair, green eyes (well, later), hold his head from birth (he was breech). Because of breech, overgestation and estimated weight I had a cesarean section, but, anyway, by week 36 I was so terified by pain, I didn't care. Only recently, like, in the last 5-6 years, the epidural appeared in these places. So, all right.



Nutrition was good for him, he was putting on 3 pounds and two inches every month for the first six months. Colics, yes, terrible, but that passed. First tooth at three months. He sit at 4 months, took his first step at 8 and a half months. Brilliant, brilliant boy. Bilingual by birth, he's sitting his Cambridge English paper in two weeks. Fluent in German also. He had national evaluation in the winter, and he came first in his class, first in his school, first in every French school abroad, and first in every french scool, inboard or abroad.



He's carrying groceries for me, babysits his sister, eases conflicts in the household. Yes, he's real.



He's tossing phrases by Voltaire in common conversations. He has perfect legs. Yeah, he's running like a girl, but in the run for Haiti, a month ago, he came second. He's been hopelessly in love with the same girl for the last four years.



He's brushing difficult times. "Nobody, never, ever understands me!"



He's, so commonly said, a beam of light.


He's eleven today.

Youngest son. Upper left corner. Please, help!

(photo removed)

GENETIC NERD

I must have done something weird. K. is away until tomorrow, so S. is taking full advantage of favours. Which translates into him spending every single minute searching the web for information about aircraft.

And this is more like a tweet than a post. But I'll post, and I'll be back soon!

midterm break

Tomorrow, at 8 am, S. is leaving for three full days at ski. In one week's time, K. will do the same thing. This brings me invaluable peace and tranquility, and also makes me think about the rabi and the goat. Does anyone know it?

A poor Jew is going to see the rabi: Rabi, rabi, I can't do it anymore. I live with my wife, my five children and my mother-in-law in one room.

Ahem, the rabi answers. I see. You have to take the goat inside also.

But, rabi..

Take the goat inside and come see me in one week.

So the poor Jew takes the goat inside and, a week later, comes to see the rabi.

Oy, rabi, what did you tell me to do!!! I cannot live like this anymore, not even a day.

And the rabi answers: Now take the goat out and come see me tomorrow.

And so he does. The next day he comes to the rabi.

So?

Oh, rabi, it's so nice at my place now... We all have plenty of room!

No, my boys are not goats.

far and away

It's been three days since it's snowing. But apparently our camera has been stolen.

Every night I drive the Nanny to the tramway, and I always take I. with me for the short drive.

Tonight, after bringing the little one inside, I have returned outside to lift the swipes, so they don't freeze on the screen until tomorrow morning. I have also needed to check the mailbox; I'm waiting the gas bill.

It was there. Damp, and in the dark I didn't understand what it was. And then I did.

limited time offer

I'm humming some spring tune ever since!

Mean

Today, tomorrow and Friday I'm examining. And today I had to say "fail" twice. The failed people are pretty young, with big responsibilities, and they failed in no mistaking way.

I feel drained.

What does anyone do when assessing their coworkers' proficiency?

Now, to where?

I've been to Miami in November. The last time before that was April 2004.

I may be me becoming wiser (which I doubt) or it could be true. America is no longer what it was.

The very first time in US I stayed for seven weeks; when leaving, at the check-in queue, something crossed my mind. "What if I cuff myself to this pillar? The only real thing to lose would be my job, and I could still use my profession stateside." But I didn't, and one month later day for day I met the guy who changed everything.

This last time it was all different. I admired more, but wanted less (I still had 150 pounds of luggage, hello, new fare at Air France!). I didn't need anymore everything in Marshall"s, but went to visit around: the Everglades and Key West, Naples and mikosukee village, music in Bayside and the Lighthouse in Key Biscayne. And in the end, for myself, I did as the say goes. I've been to Miami and all I've got is this lousy....BRAN NEW BITTEN APPLE!!!!! And I'm happier than ever in Miami!!!!!

I'll take it down soon. Doesn't matter, anyway, and I seem incapable to pour it here, or anywhere.

September

They say that, Saint Mary passed, you've sh**ted in your hat. Midday it's stil in the thirties, but in the morning is another story. Yesterday it was 15, today 11. At 4 in the morning I'm cold.

And there's the smell. Ink on paper, iron on fresh cotton, french toast at 6 in the morning (is it morning, or still night?).

Too any times using the word "morning". Yes, school is back.