photographs

Gaining in grandeur

“The more I work, the more I see things differently, that is, everything gains in grandeur every day, becomes more and more unknown, more and more beautiful. The closer I come, the grander it is, the more remote it is.” — Giacometti

(from a blog I love: The Happiness Project)

Thinking today about things that gain in grandeur, about the way that situations and people can be simultaneously so familiar and so new, so known and so inscrutable. How the details of a person can add up to a grandeur that is both awe-inspiring and scary in its unknowable-ness.

Like the evening light on an abandoned warehouse, like the shifting clouds in the sky – nothing stays, it only continues to change as our perspective shifts. This lack of certainty, so exciting to some, is deeply scary and destabilizing to me; learning to accept it and live with it is probably the primary challenge of my life.

Still Life with Peonies, Tired Six Year Old, and Sauvignon Blanc on the Rocks

Still life of my evening, 5/9/09 (happy birthday Courtney and Justin!)

Grace’s sleepover last night was a huge success. So much that as I pulled up to the house this morning at 8:45 to collect her she and Clemmie saw me from across the yard, turned tail, and bolted away from me. She was sad all day long not to be with Clem anymore. She had a great time. But she was, predictably, fried from staying up late and waking up early.

We did manage to write a thank you note to Clemmie:

Grace was super whiny and tearful this afternoon, driving me to the wine at 4:30 (see above). This reminded me, incidentally, of a day in early November 2002. It was in the first couple of weeks of Grace’s life, and Mum stopped by late afternoon one day to say hello. I was sitting in the family room nursing Grace and nursing my own tumbler of wine (red, back then). Mum took one look at me and said: “Driving you to drink, eh?” That’s how I felt today.

But then, with the cat-landing-on-all-fours-after-being-thrown-out-of-window self-preservation instincts I believe all children have, Grace switched on the charm as I was reading to her before bed. She turned to me, eyes all woeful and apologetic.

“Mum,” she said, “Remember how you told me after a sleepover I was going to be really tired?”

“Yes, Gracie, I remember.”

“And how it would be hard to roll with the punches?” (where she got this expression I don’t know but I suspect I must have used it)

“Yes, Grace, hard to roll with the punches.”

“Well, I really have been trying. It’s really hard. But I am trying.”

I fought tears as I listened to her. We then had a long conversation about how rolling with the punches is hard for me too. And indeed, it is.

Exercise pants for all

As we know, Whit is deeply enamored of his exercise pants. Oh, my, is he hilarious. This afternoon I was in my office when Grace and Whit came storming upstairs. Grace was talking to me about her day when Whit came out of his room (wearing his very favorite shirt, from Gloria), a knot of blue knit fabric in his hand.

“Here, Gracie. These exercise pants are for you.” He said, proferring the item with the solemnity of someone offering the crown jewels.

“Whit, I don’t want your exercise pants.” Grace rolled her eyes at me.

“Grace, come on, he is being nice.” I broke in.

“But they won’t fit me!” She protested.

“You won’t know until you try,” I said, thinking of how every single pair of pants she has ever worn has slipped down her hips to reveal her butt crack. My daughter the plumber.

“They are really good for exercise!” Whit, always in sales mode, insisted.

“Grace, just try them on.” I urged her on.

So she did. And they did exercises, together, on the third floor landing.



Reading at drop off


(when in doubt, post the art)

One little thing about Grace’s school I really like is that when we get there early (which, duh, is every time I take her to school) Grace picks a book from the library return box and we sit and read it. Every morning there are at least 3 or 4 parents reading to children in the hallway outside the kindergarten classrooms. Occasionally Grace will sidle up to a parent of one of her friends and quietly start listening. Or, likewise, I’ll feel a soft presence on my right and notice that Anna or Caroline is sitting there, silently listening to the story. I find it disarming that parents subtly shift to include multiple children, endearing that the children all seem to want to spend these minutes this way.

Above the cubbies the teachers display recent art, which is where I noticed this whale painting by Grace.