October 9, 2009

More and more you are managing to poop through not one layer of fabric, but many. Yesterday you pooped through your onesie, your star sleeper, and two layers of the Moby wrap. One poop, four layers. Downstairs, we change you on Luxy's dog kennel. We lay down cloth diapers below your bottom before taking off the disposable one since your other favorite pastime is to pee while being changed. Also on the changing table: two baby hats, a tupperware container filled with miniature headbands, pink bows, and pacifiers, folded receiving blankets (ladybugs and roses) and wipes.

Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize today. The Republicans think this is just another sign that he cares more about the rest of the world than about America: “One thing is certain — President Obama won’t be receiving any awards from Americans for job creation, fiscal responsibility, or backing up rhetoric with concrete action.” Personally, I think it's a poor idea to criticize someone who has just won the Nobel Peace Prize for not caring enough about the "right" people. Why do we continue to think that our fates are separate from the fates of the rest of the world? Why do we continue to believe that we can be truly free or happy if millions of others are not? To see helping the rest of the world as somehow in opposition to helping America is both selfish and ignorant.

And yet, I have been finding a huge amount of joy in you, Thisbe. Am I not truly happy? And what is happiness to you? You snort and almost snarl as you open your mouth for my nipple. Sometimes, the entire time you nurse, I watch the one small tear that has formed in the corner of your eye. It sits there while your snorts turn into sucks of contentment. The lashes on your closed lids stick together because of the tears. Do you experience happiness or simply the absence of hunger and pain?

Snow showers are possible tonight. The cold will soon be embedded everywhere: sidewalks, metal railings, toes, teeth. This morning, when I touch your hands, they are white and cool. A green vine with a thousand leaves climbs up our comforter. The sunlight falls in stripes across it. Your father gets out of bed first, to feed Luxy and start the coffee. Although I'm a writer it's sometimes difficult to know which bits of this life to give you, what mundane details you might want to know.