Museum Day

Today was Museum Day in Austin, when all the museums are open to the public, free of charge. Most of them also hosted fun kid-centric activities, like making seed balls and collages at the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center. Because it was noon, and white hot outside, we decided to head on over for some masochistic martyrdom at the Wildfower Center, where we could either bake to death outside in the beautifully landscaped terrace or pressure cook till our eyes popped out in the Little House, aka Little Barely-Air-Conditioned Room Where the Children Hang. So we decided to share the best of both worlds, and I took Ford to the House while Damon and Chas kicked back in the brick oven.

Lois Ehlert is in town, and while she was signing her picture books that we left at home, Ford and I made Leaf Man-inspired collages:

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While working on them, I paused to take a break and admire all the children at work on their collages. Ford had squirted huge silver dollar-sized dabs of Elmer’s glue onto his paper and stuck, very gingerly atop it, thin strands of dried grasses. It was so cute. An eight year-old across the table scanned this and then looked at me, scrunching up her face, and asked “Why did he use such a big glob of glue?” Before answering, I smiled, immediately thinking of the way Ford and I laugh together at Chas’ “mistakes” all of the time, and the way he in so many words, asks the same of Chas when he makes a “mess.”
“Oh, Chas! What are you doing?” Ford will say, and laugh in a very infectious way.

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Midnight sound byte

I am sitting in my bed, listening to jazz pipe in from the next room as it ripples through the white noise of my children, in bed beside me, breathing. I think I am damned lucky to enjoy this moment, I want to cling to it knowing that I’m still here enjoying this as a refugee from Katrina sits up in bed, acheing through a wave of despair in having lost a home, a loved one, possibly a child.

Ford and I visited the Montessori school at the end of our block yesterday morning. It was poised, pretty, just bubbling with children. They practice strict Montessori method, and I was impressed with the industriousness and self-reliance of a 4 year-old girl as she swept collage remnants with a child-sized broom into a child-sized dustpan. The place glowed with purpose and warmth and Ford (and Chas, for his part) seemed to enjoy it very much. In fact, he didn’t want to leave. He was attracted to station after station, wooden baskets and utensils, glowing freshwater fish tank and sunny windows facing the children’s vegetable garden.
But there are no openings until June 2006.
This might be our opportunity in disguise to travel this year and shuffle the boys out of the country for a little exploring, while we still can.

I feel as if I’m waiting for Them to come take Chas away. With conflicting travel plans coming from more than three loved ones, I find myself pushing Chas’ birthday celebration nearly two weeks following his actual birthdate. Is it so much to accommodate everyone’s schedules that they might be able to join us in celebration, or am I reluctant for Time to take away Chas’ First Year away from me, with all of the poignant milestones? He’s not going to be a baby once he passes his First Birthday, but a toddler. It’s not fair that decades of dying are preceded by the short, enthusiastic pant of life in that first year here.