from Ikos 2

Do not hinder my lips from crying such things as these:
Raise my children to be wise as serpents and as innocent as doves.
Raise my children to have knowledge of good but not of sin.
Raise my children to order their lives wisely, following the example of the saints.
Raise my children, nourishing them with the milk of the hidden wisdom of God, that they may seek it all their lives.
-from a prayer book sent to me by great mentors of ours

Evensong

Back when I found I was having a girl, I thought I knew what I was getting into but I have been dumbstruck lately with the singing. Geoff relieved me of the bedtime ritual and I laid on our bed near the open windows to read my book. I was really into my reading when on the baby monitor I hear Clara singing to herself in bed. At first, I thought, "How nice. That's really sweet." Then it occurred to me that I could not make out what she was saying. And then it occurred to me that she won't always do this. So I put the book down. The melody sounded like a hybrid between "Siyahamba" and the Kinks. But those lyrics, I could not hear what she was saying. Between the cicadas so loud at that hour and my own distracted thoughts, I couldn't hear her. I tiptoed up the steps stood outside her room. What I heard was something like,

"I don't know how to love you. You're a baby now.
You can go to my house again."

May she always express herself so surely and for no one but herself. It was so worth it to me, a pearl of enormous importance. Against the evening sounds, I stood there straining so hard to hear.

Fantastic Four on the Beach

July Flies By

Our friends have a direct RSS feed from vintage-cool 50's era directly fed into their heads. She has Hazel Atlas serveware catalogued in her mind, baked us the most adorable pie when Clara was born from scratch, and has a collection of short dresses that would make Gidget jealous. He has loaned Geoff his snakesin suit, rides a Schwinn Phantom with the chrome-y wheel cover, and just last week invited us to a Drive-In. It was so much fun. I wish I'd photographed them, all four in their hatchback, the girls nestled in against the night air trying to stay focused on Wall-E, larger than life on the huge screen. Our boys sat in beach chairs, Benicio, barrel chested and kicking his feet while he munched popcorn and narrated to himself. Geoff's friend directed and animated Presto the pre Wall-E short. We got to see it in process back in February, before the music was added and before the Magician had pants. We were all giddy and starstruck watching the finished movie on screen. Geoff and I held the girls in the tailgate, I leaned against the back seat, nursing Calliope-- surreal nursing under the stars and in the light of an enormous movie. I had rice krispy treat in my hair and and could see the faint blink of fireflies in the trees.

A few weeks before Manny's birthday, I was asking Geoff why it is that Manny's birthday always has to be this big, messy sweaty barbecue. And the answer is: because his birthday is the Fourth of July. If you ask me, of our four kids, the big, hot messy barbecue is the least his style of anyone. His wish for his birthday was to do Karate kicks in the waves and eat spags and meatballs. We had a sweet and quiet day, with close family, a trompe l'oeil cupcake cake of spaghetti and meatballs involving icing piped out in piles like pasta, ferrero rocher hazelnut truffels for meatballs and strawberry jam for sauce complete with white chocolate shavings as parm cheese. We had some multi-generational pool time with my parents watching our kids do their best para-swimming moves, "Watch me put my whole face in!" "I can jump in with my life-jacket on!" We ate in very sane shifts, which was interspersed by sessions of Guitar Hero and double fisting pizza pockets. Even though the fireworks were rained out, we rounded out the day by winning two goldfish at the town carnival near my sister's house. It turned out to suit Manny very much, a day of odd and serendipitous surprises with family all around.