Cambridge Days

All my writing energies have been devoted to these papers I have to write for class. Papers about how one passage of Scripture can crack a stony heart. And as you can imagine, my stony heart has been taking some beating. Not beating as in beats per minute but I mean beating as in major paradigm changes that leave me feeling emotionally whip-lashed and seriously fatigued.

But now that we're back home, I have a sec to tell you some things that happened since I last posted:
-We caught clams and shrimp and minnows off of the North Shore in Rockport.
-We saw the Paris Boys Choir perform.
-We spent a Saturday picnicking in the park with old friends. We ate, played Capture the Flag, and rounded out the day with a theatrical thunder storm.
-I took four skeptical kids to the Omni theatre where we (I) wept for the whales' beauty.
-Spent many afternoons in that library, eating and discovering new friends like Mouk, the Bear.
-Listened to the Black Eyed Peas ad nauseum.
-Got Calliope into the waves, up to her belly button!
-Got Manny into Walden, up to his nose!
-Turned our apartment upside down, scouring for lost library books, a rose earring, and one turquoise Chinese slipper.
-Spent time with Mikey's family at Andover. Kids wrapped in Spain's flag singing victory songs through the dining hall. Swimming with them and laughing about how fast our kids change and how little we can do about it.

finally

In the those years that we lived here, we never made it to the Charles on the Fourth. Until this year. . .

Letting C Free Be Free

These past weeks, I have tried to become an expert in these kids: Let’s document Manny’s behavior with regard to gluten in his diet. Benicio’s not completely out of size 6 but is it wise to buy any more shorts in this size vis a vis next summer? Will Clara attempt to play with this girl that is clearly only speaking Mandarin? The other day, I took them into this funky little consignment shop that I used to bring the boys to when they were barely standing up. It was an exercise in observing consumer and fashion behavior.

Finding an Oilily dress is a serendipitous surprise. Finding one that’s not dated and in your size is a small miracle. We found one for Calliope. It was a jumper with a soft denim top and a raucous color-riot of gingham tiers for the skirt. She told me she wanted to take it into the dressing room herself. Benicio and Clara went in to help her. A bit later, a sweaty Calliope saunters out of the dressing room with the dress on-- with only the top of her head and her eyes peeking out of the neck-hole. Doubling over with disbelieving laughter, I asked Manny to get the camera from my bag but he was laughing too hard himself.

She said she liked it as “sort of a necklace.” In any case, she is not a Dutch size 2 anymore. And I said, we would get it if only it didn’t impede her breathing. In deference to her sense of individuality, yesterday I allowed her to wear her bikini top backward at Walden. The two bust-triangles accentuated her shoulder blades while her front looked like some exotic Brazilian top-thong. I'm like, "Okay, do your thang, girl!"

Wanna know what we got that day? Benicio scored a blue fleece and these beautiful Indian pajamas in pure white cotton. Clara found a pair of fuchsia suede mary janes in her size-- the exact pair that she outgrew last fall. Calliope is the child I buy the least new things. (When I thrift, I’m always thinking of her and Benicio.) She got these Oilily shorts that I can only really describe as Jams. And she says that if I put mentos in the pockets, she will wear them willingly.