See how obedient I am. Here are the requested pictures. (Thanks to Aimee for having a camera)

I started Joan Didion’s We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live and so far so good. A lot of the pieces are about sex, drugs and rock and roll but then so were the sixties… Her writing is clear and thoughtful but now I’m venturing in to some of the more introspective essays and they aren’t quite as interesting. Still, I’m impressed so far with her reportage and her analysis.

I’m appled out. I’ve decided that I need to expend the energy currently being consumed by applesauce, cider etc… on reading, writing and other projects. If you want free apples, come see me. I’ve got a couple of bushels to give away.

Speaking of reading, staying up reading until eleven has been working fairly well. I’ve been reading a bit extra almost every day and along with one or two more concentrated weekends of effort this should get me caught up before December 31st. Should. We’ll see.

I have no recent pictures of the boys (Jared has been hogging the camera for work projects) but they are getting more amazing by the day. Luc is almost walking. His current record is four steps. He and Alex now play together for extended periods of time. They are so cute! Alex pushes Luc over, Luc giggles. Luc eats dirt and Alex wipes his face. Alex runs in circles and Luc laughs. Imagine, one day they will be fathers, wise young men debating philosophy and religion. One day they will be teaching me things, showing greater understanding or skill than than I. And I’ll remember that they used to eat dirt and be reminded to be humble…right before I start losing my mind…

I finished Zeno’s Conscience and although I pretty thoroughly despise Zeno, I think Italo Svevo wasn’t half bad. The book is a masterful example of the unreliable narrator. Then I started Dubliners and took a good whack at it. I first read many of the stories in a Lit class and as I go back through I’m reminded of how much you have to read Joyce with a good commentary. Some of the stories would be going right over my head if I hadn’t had the professor’s insights still rattling around in there. Feeling oddly concerned all of a sudden about Ulysses…

Why don’t my children sleep? I’ve never heard of this before. Other people’s children (you know who you are!) sleep 12 hours a night and take long naps while mine might squeeze out 10 hours a short nap. I’m jealous. And confused. It’s not like they are sedentary during the day!

I WANT MORE SLEEP! Alex was up crying again last night and since Luc spent all day yesterday crying unless he was actively being held or fed I didn’t really feel up to dealing with more fussiness. I’d already stayed up kinda late reading so when the screeching started I had barely dropped off to sleep…I think maybe I need more Grace as much as I need more sleep.

I wanted to start a short book yesterday and get it finished so I picked up Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov. I only read about half because in addition to all the stress mentioned earlier, the boys only took a one-hour nap! (Normal is at least two.) It is an odd but kind of amazing little book and I’m looking forward to finishing it today.

Book club was great though small. It was just MB and I and we easily reached a consensus on preachy children’s books. The Secret Garden wasn’t terrible but we deplore the trend. Our next book is Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. Chosen because she and I are both headed to the Hermitage next weekend. We even settled on our next book already. We’ll be reading Aesop’s Fables. I guess we are extra decisive when it’s just two of us. Now it is COFFEE TIME.

The more novels I read the more I see the multitude of ways one can hurt a child. Nearly all of the books I’ve been reading touch on some way a parent has screwed up their kid. Neglect, abuse, mockery, misunderstanding; they all proliferate. It’s sad really, but also is a multitude of good lessons waiting to be learned. I’m almost finished with Midnight’s Children and while I’ve been enjoying it I’m still looking forward to starting another book soon.

After yesterday’s easy parenting, today was not much fun. The boys were both up too early and way too grumpy. Alex spent much of the night crying hysterically (bad dreams???) and I slept on the floor of his bedroom to be there to reassure him. Not comfortable or restful but very mommyesque. He’s been particularly affectionate lately, hugging, kissing and snuggling. I will miss this part of parenting when he and Luc are all grown up. The hugs and cuddles are simply amazing. I often have the desperate feeling that there is no way I’ll remember how wonderful it feels to have him lay his head on my shoulder and no way I’ll remember just how beautiful his smiles and laughter and odd little expressions are. They are so fleeting but so incredibly moving. *Sniff* I love my baby boys!

I read all of The Secret Garden yesterday and I’m really over pedantic children’s literature. Ok, ok, I get it, fresh air and plain food are all the world needs…

In other news the boys and I had an absolutely fabulous day. We played, I worked and hardly a fussy note escaped either of them! It was really quite amazing. I’m not at all certain what the magic formula was but we’re going for a repeat of the experience today.

They came and took the empty POD away. The driveway is much nicer now that there is a little room in it. And, also on the shedding possessions front, we sold our teevee last night. We are now $80 and fourteen cubic feet richer.

My dear friend MB had a fantastic idea and was kind enough to let me in on it. We are looking into spending the weekend at a Hermitage. Such a great plan on so many levels. In another life I might have been a member of a contemplative order so to visit that life for a weekend (and get some reading done) sounds simply wonderful. Now I just have to apply and hope they accept me…

I read quite a bit today. After finishing The Rights of Man this morning and blogging the boys and I went for a walk to the bank. I read about half of Hawthorne’s A Wonder Book for Girls and Boys on the walk and then finished it over the too short nap time. It was a pleasure to read. Then I started Joseph Roth’s The Radetzky March. It came with an enthusiastic blurb from Harold Bloom so it must be good right? I’m about a hundred pages in and think it must be.

Jared and I collaborated on a spaghetti dinner. Alex and Luc collaborated on it’s consumption/destruction.

Today I finished The Complete Bech (still not happy with how Updike played with his character in the next-to-last story), read all of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense and part of The Rights of Man. 143 down. 57 to go! I thought a lot of Common Sense was neither common nor sense, but then I’m a monarchist so what do I know…

If anyone was wondering what the day was like, this picture is worth those proverbial thousand words. Of course Jared was taking care of them or helping take care of them all day, he’s just behind the camera here.

I appreciate everyone’s encouraging comments and just knowing that others care about my little project helps me over the blahs and wanting to quit. Unfortunately I have to disagree with some of you even while appreciating your condescension to follow my blog. I’m not reading these books just to enjoy myself. I don’t think there is anyone who loves and delights in reading more than I do. I would rather read than do almost anything (and that only got amended to an “almost” after I got married…ahem). But, it is not my goal to get through life just enjoying myself and reading is one of the chief areas where enjoyment ought to be secondary to other concerns like improving ones mind and refining ones education. I cannot in good conscience advocate reading for pleasure except in the situation where it is a choice between that and some vapid form of self-entertainment. Read rather than watch teevee but don’t “read for pleasure” rather than “read for understanding”. Again it is a blessing that so many of us enjoy this activity but that is not what makes it a good pursuit.

My other disagreement is with the old saw “it’s the journey not the destination”. I’m not sure how this passed into our collective cultural philosophy but I’m afraid I find it to be one of the more ridiculous bits of folk wisdom. If the journey is the point then why, pray tell, do we ever arrive anywhere? If there were no goal then how would we travel? The journey has many lessons but those lessons are learned while trying to reach the destination. The whole concept of a journey revolves around trying to get somewhere. Otherwise we’d all just set up camp at the most propitious spot (like right in the middle of The Life of Samuel Johnson) and just stay there.

So please do encourage those who travel to keep going, encourage them to keep sight of the goal and encourage them to get all they can out of the journey. But there is no point in setting sail if we’re content to float a mile off shore.

I’m almost done with Updike’s book (The Complete Henry Bech) and it’s taken a weird turn. I’m still somewhat impressed by the book but if these last 40 pages keep up with this new turn, I’m not sure how I’ll take it. It’s like Updike just thought “Hmmm…I haven’t ever written a murder mystery…I guess Bech is the only character I have going that could pull it off…let’s see how that goes.”

Luc came down with Alex’s fever but like him seems to be over it in one day. He’s still a little warm but not bad. I worry about these mysterious illnesses (Alex has had two others) that seem to come from nowhere and then head back there after making my babies sick. I want a name to pin on the nasty germs that make them fussy and uncomfortable and sad. Unfortunately Luc started feeling sick and was feverish while we were over at our friends house having dinner. We went ahead and left right away because he was so inconsolable but it is tough to get out so little and have to leave so quickly. Alex was having fun playing but came home and went to bed pretty easily. I got lots of reading in and then Jared and I went to bed at ten like really old people…

Oh, and Jared came home from work with a gorgeous rose for me just to say “I love you”. Whatever your reasons, this is NEVER a bad idea.

This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald Page: 264 Finished

The Complete Henry Bech by John Updike Page: 90

Turns out that the cryfest that prompted yesterday’s plea for help had an *ahem* hormonal cause. I always feel like that invalidates everything. Anyway, I’ve often thought that this is just one of those “hard times” that wouldn’t get any easier except with time but it is good to hear others say the same. I want to love and serve my family and do so without some kind of martyr complex and without going insane. It helps to remember that it is supposed to be hard.

Alex has a bit of a fever and spent all afternoon and evening being clingy and fussy. I wanted to hold him but I was in the middle of making more applesauce so it was short hugs and tucking him back in on the couch. We are also trying to get the boys to start sleeping through the night…always a fun process. My nerves are not as shot as I’d expected. Yay!

Fitzgerald was fascinating and even energizing, I truly enjoyed This Side of Paradise. Now I’m into Updike, whom I hadn’t ever read, and while the writing quality is quite high, I’m not sure I’m enjoying it quite as much. We’ll see.