Snow dumped on us Friday morning, preventing the girls and me from attending adoration (Donnie went in our stead). In the afternoon, the day brightened and our house was filled with winter light. It feels like with each year I become more sensitive to the lack of light in winter, so I'm grateful for that extra bit that comes bouncing off the snow. Here are some pictures from the girls' bedroom on Friday afternoon.
I've been wanting to do this little craft for a while: melt crayon bits in silicon molds and make happy, chunky, rainbow crayons. We made hearts and cars. It's satisfying to see those molten colors and to know that after the process is completed there will be fewer crayons to be picked up off the floor. Loulou played with them for hours after we finished them.
|Loulou is eating raspberries, calling to mind the opening credits of Amelie. You can see our heart crayon in their mold on the counter.|
On Sunday (Jan 4), a friend held an Epiphany celebration. I called my friend shortly before the party: "Imelda, I've just flushed a pair of underpants down the toilet, my baby has a goopy eye, and it turns out that babaganoush doesn't taste nearly as good if you sub in balsamic vinegar for lemon juice." Imelda graciously said that we should still come, and we did, grapey-babaganoush and red-eyed baby in hand. We were forty-five minutes late.
The celebration was beautiful. Good company, beef strew, king cake, and Anglican rite chant--what more could you ask for? (Except, perhaps that second daughter not throw a grand mal tantrum on the way out. That would have been nice.)
Happily, the underpants seem to have gone through to the sewer without causing a problem. I now know more about the anatomy of a toilet.
(I should mention that Donnie was away in San Diego during this episode. We aren't generally so scattershot when he's around.)
Conjunctivitis! It seems to like visiting us when Donnie is traveling. Pippa had it, then Louisa. It meant bringing the whole crew to the doctor's office twice, as well as missing a museum outing and karate. Happily the drops were very effective this time.
Before getting the antibiotic drops, I tried the folk remedy using breast milk. There's something about the act of attempting to squeeze breastmilk into the eyes of a squirming, screeching baby that drives right to the heart of the human condition--n'est-ce pas? A life-giving substance, being used or perhaps misused. The mother, well-intentioned, but inept. The recipient violently protesting the administration of said substance. The grotesque and the sublime side by side. Someone unpack that for me, please.