The Party Shift

Una, who is generally a talented sleeper, woke up at 2am this morning and didn't go back to sleep. She was cheerful, singing, playing...AWAKE. Both Martin and I are now zombies. Una is at creche. She looked pretty dreamy when I left her. Like she might go to sleep in a bowlful of morning tea. Martin got up with Una around 3 and gave me a 'sleep in' (ah, it's such a relative term) till 7. I remember when sleep in meant the other side of lunch.

Martin and I have been having serious flashbacks to Fred's toddler sleepage. Or lack thereof. She spent chunky chunky periods of most nights wide awake - this was when I was writing Breathe. Perhaps it bled in, the scenes where Trout walks the streets at night...perhaps that was me, mentally roaming the dark streets below our second storey flat, that solitude of being awake at night when all the world seems to be sleeping - a kind of island, a reversal of days, it so perfectly reflects the sense of being fragmented and remote from the practical world as a new mother (which to me was both a pleasant sensation and sometimes a deeply lonely one). Martin used to recite time tables at her. We sang too, song after song. We carried her round the house, we'd bathe with her, feed her, pat her, read to her (her favourite book at the time was Rose Meets Mr Wintergarten by Bob Graham, as a baby she tore some of the pages but I can steal recite it word for word, even though tracts of text are missing). As a small baby Fred never cried. Really. She was two months old before she did, after she reacted badly to her shots and after that too it was only occasionally, she smiled wherever we went, at everyone. She slept pretty well too for the first 9 months or so, and would sleep anywhere. Evena s she got older, I could take her out all day and she would sleep well in the pram, in the car, in my arms. It wasn't until she was 14 months old that she began having inexplicable crying sessions, usually at night; long, inconsolable crying that made us feel helpless. Not related directly to anything, not teeth or sickness or hunger or food, just a kind of inexplicable build up that could only be released through tears. It didn't happen often but it panicked us when it did. She still cries like that sometimes, cradled in my arms. Occasionally when she's sick or overtired I still sing her to sleep in my arms. There's something magical and amazing about being there in that moment, watching your child drift off, the slow blinks, the shift in breathing. Although those wakeful years were long and sometimes hard, peaking in the first months after Una was born, I wouldn't exchange the night time memories for anything, the feel of her brow, the trembling of her lashes.

Sony E-Reader

(By the way this post dates me, I am exactly 15 months behind the times - I live in a circa April 2006 timewarp).

I've decided I want one. It's pretty and slim and it has a leather case, and although it currently retails at $299US ($50 off regular price), there's a free book package with that (if I can make up my mind to be an impulse buyer within the next few days, I think the deal ends on the 17th of June, though Americans write their dates funny. Or I do. Depending on your perspective.)

The two major weaknesses is it's not Mac OSX compatible (though there seems to be a way around that) and you have to mostly use their ebooks, and the bookshop is of course very US-biased, since the reader hasn't been released outside of the US (can't find anything to indicate this will happen any time soonish either). I don't mind that too much since I can easily get Australian releases at the library. The bookshop isn't great on Kids/YA books either, but there are plenty of books on there that I've been wanting to read and I think reading adult fiction will probably be extremely good for me. I don't do it enough (hmm, am I thinking about spending several hundred dollars to trick myself into reading grown up books?)

I like the idea of training myself to enjoy technology when it comes to reading. Of course I love blogging, and I like trees and I like trees not being cut down and pulverised. Though I do think technology is nowhere near addressing our environmental, consumable resources concerns, not till mobile phone are built to last for years and be solid and reliable, and people are reprogrammed to keep computers for longer than a butterfly minute.

Anyway, I love the fact that the Sony Reader isn't backlit so no glarey hurty eyes, which I get from the computer. I like it's dimensions. I like the idea of buying books 'for keeps' without seriously compromising our already limited living space. I personally like the fact that I can't write on it - I don't wanna.

I have resisted the call of the ipod. I do have a mobile...somewhere. I don't think I've switched it on since, well, circa April 2006. But the Sony Reader is a sweet sweet siren song. Maybe because I've just read Questionable Content all the way from number one to number 900, and I loved it. I never would have thought I could get so deeply involved in a narrative online. But now I am having serious comedown issues. Now it's finished, my life feels emptier. Must fill gaping hole with...Sony Reader...

Forgetfulness

I found this poking around youtube last night, looking for poetry. More here and here
Actually there's a few, either follow the links on You Tube or search for Billy Collins.

Billy Collins was the U.S Poet Laureate. You can download audio or Ipod Note versions of his poems here. I'm not very up-to-date with who's who in the poetry world so I had a look for the current U.S. Laureate, turns out it's Donald Hall. Canada's Laureate is John Steffler. In the UK it is Andrew Motion, has been for ages.

Australia has never had one. Here's John Kinsella's reason why we don't need one. We did have an Olympic Poet. Crashing success clearly, since I never heard about it. Maybe that's because I don't watch television...but I doubt it.

Walk-walk

Yesterday when Una thought no one was looking (Martin and I were both watching from the dining table) she launched off into the open space of the lounge room, taking about 10 steps. Then she stood up in the middle of the room and walked back again. She's a little over 20 months. For a few weeks she's been taking one step between me and Martin, but once she'd done it a few times she lost interest. Then she discovered knee-walking, frankly a ridiculous looking progression, I am sure she got to her feet after all the babies in the Jungle Room at creche laughed her down. But the difference betyween the few steps she was taking and what she's doing now is she's finally found her centre of gravity, she's not just, as Woody would say, falling with style.

Actually, I think she's finally decided to join the world. For the last few weeks she's been asking to 'hop out' of the pusher when we've been out (um, no Una, you cannot knee-walk down the street, I'm just a big bundle of unfun that way). On Sunday she had her first 'walk-walk' (as she calls it) down the street, holding my hands and was devestated when it was all over. I think she finally gets what the good of it is. She didn't need to learn, she needed to be persuaded.

bad reviews and good relationships

There's a really, really bad review on Amazon of Undine. Actually it's not such a bad review as a wounded, outraged diatribe. I would link to it, or quote from it, but I can't actually get onto Amazon from my home computer due to some problem with our provider (I can't get onto ebay either - it's actually quite restful). Anyway, it's been on my mind since I read it yesterday. I have been lucky to get mostly good reviews for Undine. Of course there have been some perfectly reasonable criticisms, but most of them have been intelligent and thoughtful, and generally it's because they've wanted a different sort of book, a good book, but not the book I set out to write. These people have been polite enough to point out what Undine gets right before drawing attention to their perceived shortcomings. But the rant on Amazon is from a different kind of reader. He/she feels like I entered some kind of contract to write the book in a particular way and is howling because I failed. He/she clearly feels some kind of personal grievance because the book is not the book he/she wanted. Aspects of the book others have loved he/she is bitter about. This person wanted a book about families and instead got a book where family, friends and relationships are intermingled. They seem to think it's an incredible weakness of the story that Undine's magic is so directly linked to her sexual identity. But this is my book, and Undine is a part of me, born of my experiences, my views, values, my enchanted debris, my internal narratives. Undine's magic is linked to her sexual identity because my first experience of my own power (after I'd lost the supreme power of childhood) was linked to my sexuality. The amount of feedback I've had from adult readers suggests I am not alone in this experience.

And yet why the wounded outrage? I've decided to take it as a compliment. A warped scary don't ever send me flowers laden with poisoned insects kind of compliment. But the only reason that person would get on there and write such a long incensed review is if for some reason he/she believes the book is (or could have been) important in some way. Generally if I read a fairly crappy, disappointing book I don't then get onto Amazon and rage eternal about just how crappy and disappointing it was. I just put it down (probably without finishing it these days) and move on. But for some reason this person thought they would find something in Undine. For some reason the absence of that something has left a wound and rage in them. That's not actually my fault. Of course it's possible they just thought it was a bad book and that's okay too.

Gwen Harwood said something about how you can't pin a note to a poem and say 'this is a good child' when you send it out into the world. As a mother now, I triply understand that anguish. When Martin is out with Frederique and she throws a tantrum and knocks his glasses of his face, he is embarrassed. He worries that other people will think he's not in control of the situation. When she does it to me, I worry that other people won't like her. And I feel the same about Undine. As much as I'd like to stick up for it now and tell you all about why it's a good book really, it just has to make her own way in the world, occasionally making enemies in its journey to find other people who will understand it and, occasionally, love it for what it is, not the book it could have been.

I Heart Ernie

I love this.

Tagged

Sharon tagged me ages ago and I forgot! I haven't done a meme for ages, so here it is.

1. Four of my favourite jobs
I haven't actually had all that many jobs.
*My first favourite job is being a writer. I can't believe I get paid for something I would do anyway. But I am glad I do get paid for it because I push
*My second favourite job is being an editor. The first time I said to someone, 'um...I get paid to read in bed' was a good, good day. I love being part of a book, I love talking to other people about characters and ideas and what works and what doesn't work, I love being able to live in someone else's head, someone else's world for a good prolonged while.
*Okay, pretty much after that I can only think of the crappy jobs I've done like childcare (which isn't in itself crappy, actually it's quite fun, but the conditions and pay are shocking) and market research - I seriously felt sick every time I dialed a number.
*I feel weird saying being mum to Fred and Una is a job because a) it's not, it's just daily life and b) I have a job. (However, I fight for the right for other people to call it a job though, I think otherwise there are serious status issues for stay at home mums).
2. Four of my favourite local places
Despite the plethora of cafes, parks and places around here my first response is:
*Kate's house.
*Zoe's house
*John St, our creche. I have serious love for that place, for the role it has in our lives, for the relationships Fred and Una have forged there.
*Um, I think I have to say, for things in walking distance, Ceres. Anywhere outside that kids can go wild and run around and I can sit and drink coffee is all right by me. Or the library. Love the library.
But I also love Souk (the teahouse), Westgarth cinema, Alphabet City, the sourdough bakery, Psorakis (market where we get our fruit, veggies and meat). Slightly further afield, the museum, the zoo, and Collingwood Children's Farm (all a bike ride away) and our close proximity to Melbourne Uni and the cbd. I love Melbourne's CBD, I love the energy of it.

3. Four of my favourite foods
*Fish with ratatouille
*Pumpin and chorizo
*Ricotta cheese on fresh sour dough bread
*Polenta cooked with milk, mashed with fruit (baby food)

4. Four of my favourite international places
*Amorgos - because I got married there
*Athens - there are two types of people in this world. People who HATE Athens and people who love it. I love it. I love the combination of modern life and ancient things, relics that loom over the landscape. The whole city feels drenched in time. If there is a crack anywhere in the world that you could step into the past, it's in Athens.
*Amsterdam - I love a walkable city, and all the toyshops are so beautiful. There's also something kind of compatible for me in the cool, slightly aloof, yet friendly reception I got as a young woman travelling on my own. I wasn't fussed over at all, which suited me.
*Parga - despite the touristiness of this mainland, coastal Greek town, it's stayed with me, an amazing sense of place. We hired a motorbike and it was such a fantastic day, driving around the countryside. We saw the Nekromanteion (oracle of death) and the River Styx, as well as a tortoise crossing the road, pelicans nesting on the roof of a church, an old man driving his herd of goats down the road...it was pretty much the best day ever. Ending with a swim in the beautiful sparkling Ionian Sea.

5. Four name's of people I am tagging
Consider yourselves tagged.