The mysterious body
Also, there’s a three-year-old in the house
Moses turned 3 on Monday, and we had a very low-key but sweet park gathering with his besties. The stomp-rocket was the best $12 I’ve ever spent. It was freezing, but the boys stomp-rocketed for an hour and a half, so I’m calling the party a success.
We were also honored to have both of our parents and Uncle Sam there as well, as it’s a considerable trek for them for just a short weekend. Moses was so thrilled to have everyone there.
He has been extremely pleased with himself for being 3, and it remains a constant topic of conversation. We’re using it to our advantage with some parental marketing tactics (e.g., “Three-year-olds help brush their own teeth,” “three-year-olds put on their own shoes,” etc.). So far it’s working, but I imagine we’ll reach a point of diminishing returns soon.
Moses has blossomed into a confident, inquisitive, and sensitive boy, very much his father’s son. He’s extremely into mushrooms, musical instruments, plants, insects, and vehicles of all kinds—aka anything that Guion is into. As for what he maintains from my bloodline, I gave him his hair color, long-winded sentences, constant question-asking, and love of books and stories. He’s a delightful companion, really, and I find it shocking to have a kid old enough for me to consider in that way. We love watching him grow up and feel, as all parents do, that time is passing far too quickly.
Felix, for his part, keeps acquiring teeth and remains as smitten with Moses as ever.
I am sad to say that I prematurely declared victory on my stapedectomy, as my hearing is now as bad as it was before the surgery. (In both ears, I can hear 50% of what a normal person can hear.)
My surgeon is baffled, which is never an emotion one wants to observe in one’s surgeon. We’re waiting it out for a few months, to see if my ear miraculously heals itself, but I have a CT scan later in the summer so that he can ascertain what might have gone wrong. It’s safe to say that I’m moderately depressed about it, particularly because the surgery initially seemed like such a success, and I could hear everything again. I’m now back to where I was, jumpy and anxious and deaf, and it’s hard to stay hopeful.
I know I’ve written on this vein in the past, but I am reminded of what a mystery the human body is. Despite years of medical precedent and expertise and reams of published research, we still know very little. We still have to sit in a room, surrounded by complex equipment, and say to one another, “This is very strange. I have no idea.”
When you are not well, it is difficult to think of anything else. The problematic body eclipses all other problems.
Still, the boys are a joyful distraction, and of course, the house. Flooring has been going in on every story, which makes everything seem more real.
Here Moses is testing out the hardwood in the new family room, which will be stained to match the existing old hardwoods on the rest of the main floor.
We continue to plan on moving back in at some point in early July. And I confess, as it all progresses, I have been thinking: Even if I am deaf, I will at least get to be deaf in our house. And that will be a pleasure.
16: Things That Make One’s Heart Beat Faster
Sparrows feeding their young. To pass a place where babies are playing. To sleep in a room where some fine incense has been burnt. To notice that one’s elegant Chinese mirror has become a little cloudy. To see a gentleman stop his carriage before one’s gate and instruct his attendants to announce his arrival. To wash one’s hair, make one’s toilet, and put on scented robes; even if not a soul sees one, these preparations still produce an inner pleasure. It is night and one is expecting a visitor. Suddenly one is startled by the sound of rain-drops, which the wind blows against the shutters.
— The Pillow Book, Sei Shonagon, recorded during the 990s and early 1000s in Heian-period Japan
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The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog, Bruce D. Perry
Leading Content Design, Rachel McConnell
Saving the Wild South: The Fight for Native Plants on the Brink of Extinction, Georgann Eubanks