I have lost the battle over the coffee table. I was pretty sure I was going to be able to secure that territory for awhile longer, but they divided and conquered. My forces were weak after loosing the battle of the armchair and the overthrow of the couch. I have been dethroned. My toddlers have become part monkey and must climb whatever there is to climb. Maybe its all of the bananas I feed them, they have awoken masked genes of their ancestors. This wouldn’t be a problem except that they seem to lack all depth perception. So head first off the couch, or walking off the coffee table as if walking the plank seems like the way to go. Tom and I decided that we really couldn’t live without furniture in the room at all and the best way to handle this was to teach them how to get down. This is harder than it seems because they will get frustrated if you tell them what to do and how to do it when they are in the middle of trying to do something all on their own. And who wants to be flipped around and made to go feet first when head first gets you there so much quicker? I knew that I had lost the battle with the coffee table when I walked into the living room and saw jack standing on it (after being told he couldn’t a few minutes earlier) with a candle in his hand banging on our very expensive turntable like a drum leaving waxy gashes on the cover. It was the look of sheer devilish joy on his face that made me realize that I was beat. The table went on its side and now looks like a makeshift barricade in a country and western saloon shoot out scene. Esthetics went out the window the day the babies arrived. Function over form. Most of our breakables are packed away but we are still holding on to a few placed up high on top of a couple of pieces of furniture. But the kids are eyeballing them, and I can tell they are in cahoots to build a contraption that gets to them soon.
The King
I read an interview with Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones today that made me laugh. He said “I can’t wait to get on stage so that I can get some fucking peace and quiet”. I know what he means. If I am making art or building or making something, I no longer “…think, I feel”. It is where I find peace and I can not ever imagine living without it. I never thought of myself as an artist before, I didn’t like the title. But I can say that creating is something I am compelled to do. It is my meditation, and where I can stop the endless dialog in my head and around me and just feel.
Have you ever met someone who could not be embarrassed? They are people who have no problem stepping in front of you, pushing, taking up space and sound with themselves and their needs. I am talking about the people who do not stop to let you cross at the sidewalk with your kids. The people who stand in line behind you and brush against you to try and get you to move forward. The people who when they cut you off and you say sarcastically “After you!”, they say “Oh, thank you!”. They are not embarrassed by this behavior. I know that culturally there are many differences, but I am not comparing them here. I have seen this in every culture. I mention in my “about” page that I hate people with a sense of entitlement. But I think I have to add that I hate people who do not feel embarrassment for their appalling and selfish actions. Truly these people must be miserable. I mention really small examples but of course there are huge atrocities that happen in the world everyday where the person committing them feels no regret or self conscience. But the little everyday courtesies to others should be important too. Were these people never taught by their parents? Were their parents assholes too? Do these people take satisfaction in this behavior? It seems like such a low class achievement. There may be a name for this trait in psychology (and maybe even a gene for it), it is selfishness… but with a notion that one is better than all others, and that any lack of respect, lack of kindness or compassion for others is nothing one feels any embarrassment for. A total lack of a self-conscious. There must be a technical name for this. For now I will call it selfishjerkism.
It has finally warmed up here. We were stuck inside for 4 days straight last week and I was ready to go buy baby all-weather gear and head out no matter what. Tom’s schedule had a lot to do with it too. I need another set of hands at a play-space at this age. Yesterday we went to the park and kicked the ball around. Marlowe turned out to be an excellent soccer player. She kicked it around all on her own and the girl only learned to walk a month ago. Jack walked under the tree and sat down and played with the sticks and grass and looked around like he was Ferdinand the bull who just wanted to sit and smell the flowers. We talked with a woman who had a one and a half year old for awhile and a woman came up to us who recognized us, her husband went to high school with Tom and they had just moved back from Colorado. The sun felt so good. Tom has been making a point of introducing us or himself when we are talking to other parents. You can be talking for 5 minutes or a half an hour and you usually only know the kids names. So far it is met with a surprised but pleased reaction. There is a big parents of twins meet-up in the park tomorrow. It really is amazing to see how many there are in such a close proximity. I call this the “fertility belt” of Brooklyn. I think its mostly the demographic - upper middle class late 20, 30’s & early 40-somethingers. It is so many names to remember at these things…but I am going to try and catch the parents names too this time. We really don’t loose ourselves when we have kids although we loose our last names. I have been called Kristin Ruby’sMom for the last 12 years.
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