Let's just say baby care and blogging do not go together. (No harm to mommy bloggers, they are no doubt better at multi-tasking and organizing devices than this granny blogger is. Plus, I wanted to be sure I was present, as they say, with young James.) Anyway, I'm home for a bit now, and will do my best to keep you better informed. There's a lot going on. The Freeride World Tour extreme skiers and boarders are here, which is big-- 36 of whe world's best big mountain riders and about 100 support crew and media people. They arrived last week, and are still waiting for avalanche safe snow.
I was wrong when I said taking care of a baby is easy as long as you don’t have to do anything else. Or maybe not, as the trouble is there is always something else to do. Like take a shower, or drink your coffee, or start supper. Or worry about a planning commission meeting that is dividing friends and family and making you cry, and decide that public service may not be for you-- and trying to read the packet again to figure out what it all really means, only it is not a packet at all, but a file on your computer, and paper is easier to shuffle while holding a baby than a laptop.
It's not that caring for babies is difficult, that's easy. It's the doing of anything else that's the hard part. Getting dressed for instance. (James and I are still in are pajamas at eight, even though we have been up since six, and his mother has been gone an hour. His father is still at a conference in Portland.) Taking a walk is easy once we are actually moving-- but the prep time can be stressful.
"While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obliged to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God's creation."-- Maya Angelou
The thing about a play, about rocking a baby, about the toast at her wedding 30 years later, about the Northern lights over Mt. Ripinsky following the cast party-- truly about this one wonderful life we have--- is that once it's done it's gone. Yet thanks to our dependence on one and other-- thanks to the relationships we make-- something of ourselves or the thing we created together continues on. That's one lesson dramatic art teaches better than just about anything else, isn't it?
“What I want is so simple I almost can't say it: elementary kindness.”
--Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
Join me for a post swim cocktail? Kate Mundy, my alter-ego in "Dancing at Lughnasa" would no doubt approve of a tablespoon of cod liver oil washed down with a pint of cider, water, and a vitamin C packet. This why when everyone else laughs when Kate pulls out the cod liver oil and says " your far too pale" and " it's because you take no exercise," I am a wee bit puzzled...
"There are random moments-- tossing a salad, coming up the driveway to the house, ironing the seams flat on a quilt square, standing at the kitchen window looking out at the delphiniums, hearing a burst of laughter from the children's rooms-- when I feel a wavelike rush of joy. This is my true religion: arbitrary moments of nearly painful happiness for a life I feel privileged to lead." -- Elizabeth Berg, The Art of Mending