Live, infinitely
Live, infinitely
This format represents how my brain works now
Baby as personal trainer: Lucinda only naps on us, in a wrap, but you have to be moving the entire time, preferably walking or bouncing or swaying. If you sit down, even for a second, she starts to wake up. Meredith would approve: This is a surefire way to keep oneself from sitting. Even if I never leave the house, I walk a minimum of 2.5 miles every day, just pacing to keep that baby asleep.
Live Infinitely: Win pointed out that this phrase is written on our yoga ball, which we use every day to bounce the baby to sleep. We’ve used this ball with all three babies and never noticed it. We now laugh whenever we see it, in its absurdity, in its placement on the yoga ball, in its grand implication that the regular use of this giant blue rubber ball could be the one true path to infinite life. If this is correct, we are well on our way to immortality.
Feelings during letdown: Want to cry, lightly. Want to drink a bathtub. Want to gather all of my babies into my arms at once. Want to eat a horse, or at the very least, an entire pizza. Want to kiss cheeks. Want to nuzzle earlobes. Want to sleep. Want to sleep. Want to sleep.
Have discovered use for Kindle: Proust!
I remembered an article by a woman who read the entirety of In Search of Lost Time on her cellphone in bed. It wasn’t as crazy as it sounded, she said, because Proust’s spacious sentences made for a pleasant scrollable reading experience. Inspired, I got the Lydia Davis translation of Swann’s Way on my Kindle, and I have found it to be indeed very suitable to the format. Even though I may not be retaining much, something about the one-page display helps me focus and comprehend a third time around.
Also, I’m competitive only in one sphere, and that is reading, and Guion said he wanted to finally try Proust, and Wei and J are plowing through it right now, even in their busy state, already moving through book four. I don’t want to be left behind! I want to talk about Proust with my favorite minds, too, even though I won’t be able to keep up!
Furthermore, what better time and place to re-read Proust than in bed, in the dead of night, feeling vaguely ill with a wandering consciousness? Hark, I am female Marcel, awake in the dark and lost in my mind, overly focused on myself and my memories and projections. Someone bring me some tea in a porcelain cup so that I may lose myself in its depths!
Husband as Mary, self as Martha: I’ve always felt affronted by this Gospel passage, as I identify so strongly with Martha. There is always shit to be done. It occupies me too much.
Being at home as a family of five this past week on “spring break” made me realize Guion’s purer existence in the Marian state, to being in the moment and not thinking about the ever-growing list of tasks that I (so helpfully) maintain for him. This makes him well-suited to looking after the boys, who are only ever in the present. I’m grateful for his abilities, and I have felt chastened by my lack of instinct to stay in the present. I’m always thinking about what needs to be done next: the next chore, the next nap, the next meal. Having an infant, however, has been forcing me to be more like him, or to at least recognize the benefit of his condition (and my inability to be like my Martha self right now).
Will I retain this appreciation once I regain some order over my life? Will I become a contemplative Mary at long last? All signs point to… unlikely.
Currently Reading
Swann’s Way, Marcel Proust
Thin Skin, Jenn Shapland
Getting Lost, Annie Ernaux
Frank: Sonnets, Diane Seuss
I’ve been wanting to delve into Proust’s novels for some time; good to know his work reads well on Kindle!