HAUSFRAU

haus werk*

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 22:04:00 +0000

today's been a good one at the homestead. not to brag, but i thoroughly dominated in the kitchen. i made two lovely soups (one for supper tonight and one for lunches throughout the week) and a chicken marbella. and i cleaned up the mess. and i burned through the laundry like a house on fire. it felt good. read it and weep, christy energy!

peter's been dozy all afternoon and ben's getting his hair cut at nanny's. that's the only reason any of that stuff got done.

been thinking about work.

actually, i've been thinking about those agonizing margins between work, when you want to get something done, need to get something done, are longing to get something done, and for whatever reason, can't.

my reasons for not working are usually fatigue, children, indecision and ennui. not in that order.

don't you love to tie up your shoes, literally or metaphorically, and zoom through your tasks? i adore that feeling. it doesn't happen too often.

mostly work's a maddening confrontation with the second law of thermodynamics, which states that the moment you tidy up a room, your two-year-old will dump his mister potato head bucket all over the floor and mix it with pieces of random puzzles. as kathleen norris says, "the daily you will always have with you."

having the courage to face the daily - therein lies the rub for me.

reading proverbs 31 sometimes helps and sometimes doesn't; sometimes i'd like to ask the woman whose "lamp does not go out at night" which prescription drug she's abusing. but more often it helps to see the work of the household framed like an epic poem, as in the proverb. productivity, strength, commerce, management...these are appealing ideas.

of course, she also has "maidens" to help out (vs. 15)...

no matter how exhausting, there's a good deal of satisfaction in "looking well to the ways of the household."

* the actual german word for housework is Hausarbeit. i justified the linguistic butchery in the title by deciding it was a little more recognizable, even if it's completely incorrect. :)

speak ye comfortably

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 20:15:00 +0000

i've been thinking about the king james version of the bible recently. mainly because it provides the libretto for handel's messiah, and we listened to it a lot during advent. from a poetic standpoint, it is so nice. i grew up around adults who rejected the king james primarily because they grew up with people who said it was the only version good christians could read.

so it was all new international versions and new american standard versions at our house, and later, a few copies of "the amplified bible" and "the message" (ugh) floated around. i know there are translation problems with the king james, but for sheer beauty, i challenge you to find better than this:

Isaiah 4o:1-5

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.

Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the LORD's hand double for all her sins.

The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain:

And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken it.

for auld something something...

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 23:21:00 +0000

lo, the end of the decade approacheth. a girl starts patting her pockets, searching around for her compass and astrolabe at a time like this. where am i? where am i going? where the hell's a device that will make those calculations?

i feel the itch to resolve things, plan things, organize and prepare for things, but i don't know what things. i can't really think too well right now. i'm super tired. but like a phantom limb, the itch itches. illusively.

no new year's plans. i'm thinking, kids to bed early, maybe a little champagne. maybe a little conversation about our life and times. maybe a little kissing. hope you get whatever you want for new year's. it's my favorite holiday.

the best cigarette

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 19:40:00 +0000

leaving church, we noticed our pastor standing by the back door of the church, in the cold, chatting with a congregant while she took a smoke break. lots of people at our church run outside after the sermon to smoke, and although i'm pretty sure our pastor isn't numbered among the smokers himself, it was enormously endearing to see him there, hanging out while the wiry woman in her bowling jacket wrapped herself around her cigarette.

and just now, our neighbors to the back, anna and chet, settled into their plastic chairs for a mid-winter smoke. they have little kids, so they don't smoke inside. i like to see them out there, together, lighting up for a few minutes of parallel quiet, even though it's bitter cold.

it's interesting how something semi-disgusting and indisputably bad for your health can also be sort of nice.

an aside: when i think of you readers who occasionally browse by hausfrau, i suspect you might think in one of two ways about it:

1.) "cigarettes are not semi-disgusting, they're full-on disgusting."

or

2.) "what's disgusting about smoking? it's a great pleasure and a creative necessity."

for the record, i know the aesthetic, sensory and social charms of the occasional smoke all too well. i also know i never, ever, ever want a cigarette when i have a new baby because babies are sweet and clean, and smoking is gross and filthy. that's just how it seems to me. context is everything. summer night, cicadas thrumming, on a porch with friends, light it up. alone, in the winter, or when sweet little souls are around, no way. hence a middle position. anyhow. where was i.

oh yes. smoking is a nice way for people to slow down and be together. it gives you something to do, instead of being awkward. it offers a sort of comradeship. spurgeon smoked and defended his smoking in sermons and print.

but i'm not really interested in being an apologist for smoking. i was just noticing today how it sometimes works as a vehicle for common graces, like a little conversation between a pastor and congregant, and few friendly moments between a husband and wife.

can you rock this? i think you can

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 16:36:00 +0000

my sister and brother-in-law are attending an ugly christmas sweater party this weekend, so we were browsing etsy for inspiration. we have a special crush on this "vintage super sexy ugly christmas vest," especially the moody alterna-lumberjack attitude of the model. if you're in the mood for a low-brow laugh (a la "schweddy balls,") click this link and read the vendor's semi-offensive description of the vest. we shed a mirthful tear together when we read it.

advent

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 12:29:00 +0000

if i attack all the clutter in my mind with a pitchfork and toss it to the corners, maybe i can open a space to remember the incarnation. it's nearly christmas, and i've hardly spared a thought for advent things.

my reading group is reading joan chittister's the liturgical year: the spiraling adventure of the spiritual life. she examines, with beautiful language, the practice of patterning our individual and communal life after the life of jesus, continually wearing a path between advent/christmas and lent/easter to engage the full scope of the gospel. i love the book. i just find it hard to stay on that path. my church does a beautiful job with christmas and easter, but i regret that it doesn't observe advent or lent, because those longer seasons of preparation are hard to practice alone. but it's still my responsibility to quiet down and pay attention to the word becoming flesh and dwelling among us.

i googled joan chittister and found this picture
which made me both groan and chuckle. sister joan, proponent of contemplation and silence, basking in the glow of celebrity in front of a campaign poster for schwartzenneger. oh well, maybe bono and maria and the good sister had just finished a rich conversation on the devotional life. maybe that accounts for the air of camaraderie. who knows?

in the beginning was the word...

late afternoon

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 22:40:00 +0000

emily on gussy

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 21:45:00 +0000

my sister's emily's etsy site is featured today on this rawther charming blog, gussy has a lot to say. cheers to em for her lovely handmade vintage headbands and cheers to gussy for her sweet blog! i'll be back to visit gussy again soon. (our sis kelly is the beauty in the pictures.)

happy thanks

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 21:05:00 +0000

i applied three strings of lights to the bottom half of our tree accompanied by the slow-rolling strains of the blind boys of alabama's "o holy night." i stood back to survey the tree, wandered into the kitchen to make coffee, ended up blogging.

needless to say, my three best boys are sacked out upstairs, andrew with his glasses still on and a stephen lawhead novel on his chest (cheers to you, all you lawhead fans! i still pick up _the paradise war_ on the odd january night, mainly to read the chapter where lewis eats a beautiful meal at the serb's house (or is he turkish?), culminating in oranges and coffee. i always remember the oranges and coffee. but i digress).

this morning we went with andrew's folks to the durham to see the trains (for ben) and the giant christmas tree (so brenda could take a family picture for her atlanta friends) and the hatch exhibit (for me). it's been a long time since i got to soak in some art, and it gave me that old familiar electrical charge of inspiration, combined with greed to take it all home, combined with despair that i will ever produce something wonderful (other than a good pot of soup and sweet children, which are, admittedly, wonderful). i left feeling light-headed with longing. which could also be chalked up to needing lunch. anyway, it was provoking in all the right ways. go, if you have a chance and like print-making or graphic art.

in honor of thanksgiving, a few words of gratitude for:

- my baby sleeping against my collar bone, drooling on my shirt, killing my heart like the proverbial fatted calf with his sweetness
- ben writing his name ("b.e.n. spells ben," scribble scribble) around the inside of the bathtub with his tub crayons. that, and the way his hair is fuzzy in the back and perversely flippy in the front when he wakes up
- andrew playing horrible don wyrtzen hymn arrangements on the piano, sending me flowers, bringing home the christmas tree
- food to eat; clothes to wear; beds to sleep on; good parents and siblings and siblings' spouses; interesting, well-read friends who make good conversation; access to the odd bottle of belgian beer; a stable democracy; and a box of sparklers in the basement, ready for new years' eve.

billy is right again

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 00:30:00 +0000

from "reading myself to sleep" by billy collins

"is there a better method of departure by night
than this quiet bon voyage with an open book?"

well, there might be.

but most nights, billy's right.

the brothers grim

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 00:45:00 +0000

the clouds rolled in, and my boys spent the day moaning, weeping, sobbing, whining and being needy. i spent the day taking deep breaths and thinking, "what is WRONG with these people?" they're finally tired of crying, and apparently tired of me, because ben's reading and playing with blocks, and peter's conked out in his swing. now if my man would just get home, we could open a bottle of wine and maybe have a few moments of uninterrupted parallel spacing out. that would be a dream.

wherever you are, you're still driving my car

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 19:51:00 +0000

drinking: mexican zaragoza coffee
listening: madeleine peyroux's half the perfect world
reading: fern and flora, burnside writers collective, ohdeedoh
planning: organize the sun/play room's shelves; return clothes and dishes to all the friends who fed and clothed me during my pregnancy; wash some clothes so we don't have to wear trash bags this weekend
happy about: two little boys: one blond/blue, one dark/dark, and one strong handsome husband; a cozy old house; pot roast and carrots; sisters in town
sad about: not enough sleep
spent the morning: in the company of my lovely friends, undoing that isolated feeling with rapid-fire conversation
goals for the weekend: not letting the house go to perdition; putting sunday dinner in the slow-cooker on saturday night.

2

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 16:00:00 +0000

he knows his own mind on matters gastronomic and sartorial.
he loves disney's "robin hood."
he can shimmy.
he brushes his teeth and savors the tooth paste.
he throws left.
he knows you need a ticket to ride a train.
he favors rhinos over all other creatures, although he has a soft spot for sea turtles.
he always wants fruit snacks.
he shouts "yahoo!" when approaching his grandma's house, and "help!" if he's stuck.
he sort of likes coffee, and sort of hates it.
he says that anything with a strong flavor is "spicy."
he will always have something to say on the subject of firetrucks, fire-fighters' hats, and hoses spraying water.
he's good with crayons, great with paints.
he plays the piano.
he's two.

the good fight

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 17:33:00 +0000

just now, ben spit out a bite of apple. he's been spitting partially-chewed food lately. big no-no. when he saw the displeased look in my eye, he piped up with, "time out! sit on the step!" at first i took this for repentance, but on further reflection it seemed a clear attempt to avoid our other disciplinary measure, a spank on the bottom. sorry, chum.

ugh. as john rosemond says, parenting a toddler is the work of trying to prevent a little criminal from turning into a big criminal. or "an annoying narcissist," as my mom said. now, naps all around.

gimme that old fashioned morphine

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:55:00 +0000

both boys are napping. simultaneously. which calls for a blog post.
well, reader, the euphoria of the first two weeks has dwindled in the face of my new reality: infants need care all through the night and toddlers need care, direction and discipline all through the day. makes for a tall order. in some ways, it's time to expand; in other ways it's time to batten down the hatches. streamline. focus. seek pharmaceutical help.

i'm on zoloft, to head off a postpartum craze like the one that settled after ben was born. it (the drug, not the craze) doesn't take effect for four weeks, so i'm waiting to see if it's going to help (things have been so much better this time, but i am glad to have a back-up plan if i need it). in the meantime, i'm drinking a rum and coke every afternoon. just kidding! i am sorry to see the end of my percocet prescription. it gives a nice buzz, in addition to controlling pain. :) i can see the appeal. oh, what am i saying?? i can get the same high from a square of dark chocolate.

speaking of, i'm so hungry. tuna sandwich, anyone?

petey

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 21:41:00 +0000

naptime dispatch

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 19:16:00 +0000

i drove through mid-town today and all the trees are plummy yellow, brittle around the edges, with their black branches beginning to show. the clouds are heavy and low. it's the right kind of day for taking two sleepy boys into a warm house, carefully slipping off coats, hats and blankets, and tucking them in for naps. it's the kind of day for coffee and writing.

is there such a thing as postpartum euphoria? i feel so good, so content and peaceful, so much stronger physically than i have in months and months. the other shoe still might drop at any time, i realize...but instead of the anxious, unbalanced, sad feelings i had after ben came along, i feel so well.

peter looks like the love-child of hellboy and gary sinise. hellboy because he's still sort of red-looking. with gary sinise's nose. i have no explanation for any of that. but i love him with abandon. he's sleeping on the bed next to me as i write, occasionally winking one eye open, with his mittened fists up by his cheeks. his hair is wild and insubstantial like chick feathers. he's mellow. we spent the morning listening to coleman hawkins together and making a playlist of quiet jazz. ben went to nannie's to play mister potato head, so it was just the two of us.

for your reading pleasure, i'd like to recommend robert bly's short collection of poems called _turkish pears in august_. it's actually an illustrated chapbook of poems, which is interesting. i love the poems very much and hope somebody out there will read them too, and let me know, so we can discuss them. i need another brain to help analyze them. the imagery...hmm...

for your listening pleasure, coleman hawkins is totally wonderful. try "body and soul" or "coleman hawkins encounters ben webster."

my boys

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 17:16:00 +0000

meet peter!

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 01:52:00 +0000

today our little boyo came safely into the world!
the vital stats:
peter arant whealy
7 lbs. 7 oz.
20 inches long
lots of dark hair
good sleeper (knock on wood)
we are so happy and so in love!

a good thing to be alive

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 02:46:00 +0000

there wasn't much time for contemplation this week, or doing the inner work of preparation i always fantasize about. here we are again, on the brink of a milestone in our family, and we spent the time leading up to it watching cartoons and cuddling our croupy toddler, punctuated by crazy bursts of errand-running and nest-feathering. no time to think. it's like christmas. i always dream of having a long, meditative advent, then suddenly it's christmas morning and i'm tempted to feel like i already missed it. but no, this time i'm choosing to view the croup and the nesting as the meditation.

i read a bit of chesterton this week, and in his collection of essays brave new family is a terrific piece on birthdays. my favorite line (which you'll see on birthday cards from me from now on) is this:

"the first fact about the celebration of a birthday is that it is a way of affirming defiantly, even flamboyantly, that it is a good thing to be alive."

as tomorrow is our baby's actual birth-day, we affirm life's goodness defiantly and flamboyantly. the defiance and flamboyance is only necessary because each of us live right in the teeth of a dangerous and painful world. nothing like having a new baby to drive that reality home. has anyone read children of men by p.d. james? the premise is that suddenly all humans become sterile and no more babies are born. james, whose book is, i think, defiantly and flamboyantly prolife, teases out just how much societal normalcy depends on the assumption that people will have babies and generations of humans will go forward. without that hope, things totally fall apart.

ultimately, of course, our hope is situated on something much firmer than the hope of new babies. the prayer for the new year in the valley of vision always comes to mind at the outset of any change, and it seems fitting now:

i launch my bark on the unknown waters of this year,
with thee, o father, as my harbor,
thee, o son, at my helm,
thee, o holy spirit, filling my sails
[...]
give me thy grace to sanctify me
thy comforts to cheer
thy wisdom to teach
thy right hand to guide
thy council to instruct
thy law to judge
thy presence to stabilize.
may thy fear be my awe,
thy triumphs my joy.
amen.

let's get this party started!

croup

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 21:32:00 +0000

remember, in anne of green gables, when anne saves minnie mae barry from dying of "the croup"? i think she used mustard plaster and something called ipecac. i had neither of those remedies on hand, nor the experience to recognize croup. i was getting scared that ben had pneumonia, after several days of tight coughing and no improvement. thankfully, our good doctor loucks gave ben's chest one listen and diagnosed him with minnie mae's disease. he had a breathing treatment and a steroid shot and is perking right up, although he still looks pale and tired. visiting the pediatrician was decidedly less dramatic than anne's heroic midnight intervention, which was great because who needs more drama?

two days til baby comes...

the low-down grouchy toddler blues

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 18:00:00 +0000

the little fellow of the house woke during the night coughing and congested, and was the same this morning, with the addition of a low-grade temp and a despondent attitude.

we spent the morning wandering the house like a pair of moaning myrtles.

ben wanted to be held, but held only while i stood and swayed. he totally fell apart if i acted like i needed to sit down. and swaying a 32-pound toddler while 38 1/2 weeks pregnant is my greatest feat of strength to date. for the record.
then he wanted down.
then up again.
then he wanted his socks off because they were itchy.
then he wanted them on.
then off.
then he wanted to read a richard book (a richard scarry book to the rest of the world, abbreviated to just a "richard book" since ben dislikes all things scary).
then he was sick of the richard book.
then he was hungry.
then food disgusted him.

my oldest friend, joni, was going to come by and fold laundry with me, but instead i begged her to get us some children's motrin, since we were out. so she did, lovely friend that she is, and after giving him a dose, i tucked him in. i hope it's a long, restorative, healing nap. i might resort to whiskey in the bottle if this keeps up. for which one of us, i won't say.

bits

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 19:14:00 +0000

some things:
1. eight days until baby's born. can't wait! he's "dropped," which means that he's moving into position to be born. i can breathe better without him wedged up against my lungs. it's good.

2. just ate a cara cara orange from australia by way of whole foods. might go for another one. yum.

3. speaking of fruit, wouldn't it be fun to go to the orchard today?

4. andrew and i have a long history of diverging opinions on fiction. we do all right with non-fiction, but we NEVER want to read the same novels. until we found michael chabon. now we have one fiction writer in common. we. both. like. chabon. a miracle.

5. i asked ben what sport he wanted to play when he was bigger, and he said, "tennis." i asked him, "singles or doubles?" he said, "singles."

6. what's with all the spiders? i'm going to try a hedgeapple to discourage them. brooke's idea.

7. along with everybody, i'm reading and loving julia child's my life in france. she seriously overrates france (in my opinion, although she implies that if one doesn't love the french, one has only one's self to blame, so maybe it's just me), and her passionate commitment to french cooking is a shade exhausting (again, might be my problem). but the energy, the joie, the rich descriptions of a satisfied life are most nurturing to read. and all right, she does make me want to run off to provence for the weekend. who wouldn't?

more than a match for christy energy

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 03:31:00 +0000

andrew whealy tore it up this weekend. he got so much stuff done, it was a miracle. he cleaned. he organized. he put things away. he took care of ben. since having children, my love language has become acts of service (i hear that happens to a lot of women), so i'm feeling a serious, juicy crush on him. here's how much i love him: i'm keeping him company while he watches espn. told you.

dream girl

noreply@blogger.com (darby) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 10:15:00 +0000

early morning insomnia strikes again.

this time i woke up from a dream both funny and miserable, in which andrew told me he was in love with a classmate from law school and was leaving to meet her in florence (italy, not north omaha). the funny part is, his flame's name was christy energy. i woke up with a laugh because of that hilarious last name and it's obvious reference to what is currently my biggest short-coming. then, because it was 4:50 a.m. and i was still mostly asleep, i spent a few panicked minutes trying to remember if he'd ever mentioned anyone called christy energy while in law school. he hadn't. but she sure sounds like a go-getter, huh?

i have a penchant for literal dreams, but this one takes the cake. if i'm mad at someone, i dream about yelling at them. if i miss someone, i dream about talking to them. and if i'm feeling insecure about being exhausted and slow all the time, i dream that i'm being left for christy energy. with dreams like this, who needs freud?

i think i'm going to adopt christy energy as my alter-ego and invoke her whenever i feel particularly ironic about being an exhausted mama. i bet she carries a brief case.