Paging Bing and Laura

It's almost certainly going to be a White Christmas in Media, Pennsylvania this year!  We're sitting through one of the biggest December snowstorms in recent memory, with as much as 17 inches of snow expected before it ends tomorrow.  That may not sound very impressive to those of you who live in Maine or Massachusetts, but I've lived south of New England long enough that anything over a foot now qualifies as a blizzard.

Maureen and I recently re-read the fantastic Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, describing pioneer life during the late nineteenth century.  Looking outside this morning reminded me of the sixth book in the series, which describes the Ingalls family's long and difficult winter in the Dakota Territory.  It made me glad that we're sitting here in a warm house instead of shivering with Pa and Laura out in the sub-zero temperatures of the woodshed, twisting frozen hay into bundles for burning because we've run out of coal.

Quarantine

This week we all caught a bad cold.  More accurately, I caught it from someone on the train or at Penn, Katie caught it from me, and Maureen caught it from Katie.

As a result, it's been a strange week.  We've all slept more than usual (except Maureen, who caught her cold today and has been busy taking care of Katie and me).  Time has slowed down and sped up.  The patterns we've begun to form have been temporarily disrupted.  

It was disappointing to have to stay home and miss a couple get-togethers with friends that we were really looking forward to.  And it was hard for me to go for a couple days without holding Katie (before she caught my cold and caution became unnecessary).  

Worst of all, we've had to listen to Katie suffer through some pretty bad congestion.  We bought a humidifier, broke out the saline drops, and leaned on Maureen's growing expertise with an aspirator (pictured in the grim still life below).  But after doing all that we've still had to sit by and listen to a lot of labored baby-breathing, which is just about enough to break your heart.

Mom told me today that she struggled through the same thing when my brothers and I were kids.  It's always reassuring to hear her say that sort of thing.   

Third Reading Assignment

What Katie Likes The Most

Katherine Anne Witmer is in love.  With a picture frame. Please allow me to explain.

Katie spends a lot of time on our couch these days, looking up at the ceiling and inspecting her surroundings.  As her eyesight has improved and her neck muscles have strengthened, she's become increasingly alert and increasingly interested in seeing the sights.

Naturally, Maureen and I assumed that she would mostly be interested in seeing us, the two people who gave her life and brought her into this world.  Sadly, this was a faulty assumption.  

The thing that intrigues Katie beyond end, the thing that she finds endlessly fascinating and endearing and riveting and absorbing, is the black picture frame hanging on our living room wall.  Maureen tells me that this is because of the contrast between our light walls and the dark frame.

Maybe so.  But it can be hard not to take Katie's preoccupation a little personally.  I often sit next to her on the couch, singing and cooing and smiling like mad in an effort to attract her attention.  She just as regularly cranes her little neck to see around me and gaze adoringly at the frame.  Hopefully this is just a phase.

View from couch of Katie's best friend

Visit from Kristin

You know those wonderful moments in life when you meet someone and you just click? Well, I had that experience during my first few days at JMU. When I met Kristin Moore I knew almost instantly that we were going to be friends forever. Eight years later Kristin continues to be a dear, sweet friend to me and now to our family. This weekend she braved the elements (we got 2 inches of snow on Saturday afternoon) to come and meet Katie for the first time. We had a wonderful visit. She even let us go out to Target while she watched Katie! It was so great to have a warm, familiar friend and fellow new, young mom (her beautiful daughter, Madeleine, is a little over a year old) here to talk and laugh with. Kristin is also a very talented photographer and she snapped some shots of us. Enjoy!

Kristin and Katie

Hello Holidays!

Our holiday season is off to a great start! For Thanksgiving we decided to go to Bethlehem to visit my family. Since Katie was only a little over 2 weeks we wanted to steer clear of any big crowds but we really wanted a big, tasty dinner that we didn't have to prepare :) We got both! Our visit was particularly special because we got to introduce Katie to her Great-Grandma Betsy for the first time. It was a great day.

My mom and sister, Leanne, came for a visit last Friday to help us get ready for Christmas. We went out and got a little, live Christmas tree. Katie looked especially fetching that day in her sweater, courtesy of her Great-Grandma Witmer and hat, courtesy of my friend Joey. It really is one of the most wonderful times of the year, especially for us this year!

Meeting Great-Grandma Betsy for the first time

Kisses from Aunt Leanne

A very stylish Katie all suited up to get our Christmas tree

Most Like an Arch

Our dear friend Kristin Moore spent this past weekend with us (more about her visit in a later post) and snapped some wonderful new photos of our family for us.  

Kristin's composition of the photo posted below reminded me of a poem I've long admired, published in 1958 by John Ciardi.  Katie's arrival, and our sharing in her care, has given the poem—with its references to marriage's delights, solidity, delicacy, and promise that two weaknesses might together create a strength—fresh meaning.  I like to think of Katie sheltering in the arch of our marriage.

"Most Like an Arch This Marriage"

by John Ciardi

Most like an arch—an entrance which upholds

and shores the stone-crush up the air like lace.

Mass made idea, and idea held in place.

A lock in time.  Inside half-heaven unfolds.

Most like an arch—two weaknesses that lean

into a strength.  Two fallings become firm.

Two joined abeyances become a term

naming the fact that teaches fact to mean.

Not quite that?  Not much less.  World as it is,

what's strong and separate falters.  All I do

at piling stone on stone apart from you

is roofless around nothing.  Till we kiss

I am no more than upright and unset.

It is by falling in and in we make

the all-bearing point, for one another's sake,

in faultless failing, raised by our own weight.