As my husband is wont to say, God bless Youtube. One of the girls
was confused about whether or not to drop the silent e in
"unfortunately." I know how I resolved that question at her age, and I
went a-googling to see if I could find a certain video clip.
course you know we spent the next hour watching more Electric Company
clips, with the girls cracking up at my terrier-like 70s-child
excitement. The lolly song! And that other lollipop song, the creepy one. Hey, you guys! Silent E! The uberfunky TION
song, which I now realize may have been the genesis of my
environmentalist streak. (Rewatching it, I'm rather shocked by the
garmentlessness of the crowd at the end of the song. I guess the Age of
Aquarius touched kiddie TV too.)
We're in the mood for a bit o' Bach. Taking a nod from Ambleside, we listened to his Magnificat in D
this morning—to the first movement, that is. Somewhere around the
second aria, Rilla decided her mission in life was to plant both feet
flat on Beanie's face. For some reason, Beanie found it difficult to
listen to music that way. Rookie.
Anyway, I'm rounding up my links for easy access during, let's say,
Rilla's naptime. If you've got any great Bach links, books, CDs, etc,
you'd like to share, please fire away. :)
Have any of you read this book: Sebastian Bach, the Boy from Thuringia? Do we desperately need to read it? Because I'm trying this crazy, crazy thing where I (gulp) don't buy any more books for a while.
::::shudder:::: Sorry, I felt faint for a minute there. Good thing I'm
sitting down, anchored by a great big lump of snoozing baby.
(Deep breath) Okay then. Moving on. Beanie has just begun reading Genevieve Foster's George Washington's World, and in a nice bit of dovetailing, we learned that George was born in 1732 and Bach wrote his Magnificat in 1730.
Here, for good measure, is the Douay-Rheims translation of the
Magnificat, Mary's great outpouring of joy from the Gospel of Luke:
My soul doth magnify the Lord.
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid; for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
Because he that is mighty, hath done great things to me; and holy is his name.
And his mercy is from generation unto generations, to them that fear him.
He hath shewed might in his arm: he hath scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart.
He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble.
He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He hath received Israel his servant, being mindful of his mercy:
As he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his seed for ever.
...a nifty new website that allows you to create trails of theme- or topic-related books.
That's right, homeschoolers, it's what we've been doing all along. We call them "rabbit trails," these folks call them Reading Trails. I just tried it out with a little trail Beanie and I have recently begun to travel: The Tempest for Children.
(Psst, sweet friend, see what's on the arm of the couch? The postman
was walking up to our mailbox with your package at the very moment
Scott, baby, and I pulled into the driveway. It's beautiful. Rilla
approves wholeheartedly. Thank you so very much!)
And one last shot, decidedly less than flattering but a little gift for my Twitter pals:
Put the ding-dang camera away, honey, so I can eat my PUDDING!
(I didn't know this photo existed when I was twittering about
pudding this morning. When I uploaded the photos this afternoon, I saw
it and laughed and laughed. Scott must have snapped that during the one
brief moment in time when the pudding was actually still in the bowl.
I'm sure I was licking the dish clean five minutes later.)
Film critic David Denby, writing of his experience revisiting, in his forties, the Great Books core courses he had taken as a freshman at Columbia University thirty years earlier:
I was reading seriously, reading Homer, Plato,
Aristotle, Sophocles, all the Greeks. But I needed more time. Life got
in the way—a good life, but in the way. I had always known it
would, but I was determined not to rope off my school adventure, not to
become a hermit, anything medieval or cloistered, but to remain a
modern middle-class man, living my life as normally as possible. As if
I had any choice! There were days when I wanted to be free just to
study, to eat at any hour and sleep whenever I wanted to, unshaven and
raw as an eighteen-year-old—and then the little one, Thomas, would take
my hand and lead me into his room to show me something he had drawn,
pulling me away from Plato, and I was exasperated but grateful, because
a child's hand is like nothing else on earth.
My traffic has been through the roof these past few days, and while I'm sure much of that is due to the magnetic allure of Angelica's milk-white shoulders,
it dawned on me that a sizable number of the hits are from friends
dropping by to see if there's any baby news. This became all the more
apparent when I switched the glitchy Twitter widget (which scrolled my
tweets in the sidebar) to a just-plain-Twitter-button, and the outclick
rate to my Twitter page quadrupled. May I just say it is awfully sweet to know how much y'all care? :)
But there's nothing to report. Great checkup at the OB on Friday.
Baby's got plenty of fluid, excellent heart rate, is a happy camper. If
nothing happens before Tuesday, I'll go back for another round of
BUT SOMETHING IS BOUND TO HAPPEN BEFORE TUESDAY.
Meanwhile, my mama is spoiling me rotten, doing all my household
work PLUS beautifying the backyard in the most magnificent way. She is
a treasure, my mother, let me tell you. My daddy is pretty swell
too—and it's nice of him to part with my mom for two weeks so she could
come entertain my younguns and do my dishes and fill me full of
cornbread and ham.
Anyway, all's well, and I'm in good hands, and we're all hoping this
little person decides to join the party very soon. As in: today would
During the long months of this pregnancy, I have been blessed with
the companionship of a few special friends. We used to see each other
only once a month, but lately we've been able to get together once or
even twice a week, and how eagerly I have looked forward to these sweet
moments of fellowship with women whose joy in motherhood outstrips even
I realized today that our time together is drawing to a close...very soon (very, very
soon, do you hear me?) it will be time to go our separate ways, and we
shall see each other only once a year or thereabouts. Ah, dear friends,
whatever will I do without you? Fortunately I happened to have my
camera in my bag at our visit today, so I was able to capture a few
treasured snapshots of these fair and tender ladies I have come to know
Here they are all together with their precious infants, the whole beautiful bunch of them. Aren't they lovely?
So serene, so gentle, so rouged.
have learned so much from these ladies. For example, here I am about to
give birth to my sixth child, and yet until I met Angelica would you
believe I had no idea it was proper to blow-dry one's hair to a
silky sheen, tie back a few glossy locks with a ribbon, don a ruffly
off-the-shoulder gown, and apply several coats of blusher before
sitting down to breastfeed one's baby?
This is going to make a real difference in my next post-partum
experience, let me tell you. Angelica always looks so calm and well
rested. I realize now that my customary get-up of hastily scrunchied
ponytail, spit-up-stained T-shirt, and no makeup whatsoever has been at
the root of the exhaustion I typically experience during those first
weeks with a new baby. LOOK beautiful and you'll FEEL beautiful is Angelica's motto.
has a similar philosophy about pregnancy. I understand now that in
banning white clothing from my wardrobe several sticky-fingered
toddlers ago, I have been depriving myself of a kind of delicate
radiance that would surely have blessed the child in my womb and all in
our presence. And that band of pink ribbon below her bosom—how
beautifully it offsets her the rosy glow of her lips. Every word that
comes out of a mouth like that is pure honey, I suspect. (I can't say
for sure, because demure Elspeth never utters a word. But you can see
just by looking at her that she is full of warm and soothing thoughts.)
for our ringleted chum Swoozie, I admit I worry a little about her
sometimes. Those raw bruises on her cheek...the dark rings around her
eyes...her habit of staring off into the distance, lost in thought,
bottle-feeding her infant without even looking at him...I have some
concerns about her home life. But she has never uttered a word of
complaint, so perhaps I'm mistaken. Possibly she is only thinking about
when to get her next perm.
Oh, dear friends, how grateful I am for the many times you have
entertained me while I waited for our obstetrician to amble into the
exam room! It is very good of you, all of you, to have kept such a
patient vigil with me as the long, long minutes ticked by.