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| (Drew is taking a final exam...) |
Saturday, December 15, 2001: The department has a dinner up Sundance canyon. When we get back, Caitlin (12) is wailing. “You said you’d be back in three hours, and it’s been nearly four!” We’re glad that she cares about us.
Monday, December 15, 2003: Drew’s (12) nose starts gushing, for no discernable reason. “Too much blood!” says Claire (2), over and over.
Sharon and I prepare to go to a movie. Spencer (7) is distraught. “You went last week!”
Sharon and I prepare to go to a movie. Spencer (7) is distraught. “You went last week!”
Saturday, December 15, 2007: We go to the museum to look at the kids’ Christmas art. When we get home the youngsters get out all the paraphernalia and do some great pictures. Spence is a natural. Matt is an expressionist. Claire learns from the boys, and adds her own Fauvist sensibility. I could have done something, but am fairly hopeless as a designer, or even a director. What do I draw, and from what angle, and in what proportion? What detail, or not? Fun anyway.
Monday, December 16, 2002: Caitlin (13) invites me attend her orchestra concert, which is a nice friendly change. The high school is an oppressive mausoleum. Mr. __ is unfunny, and a pip-squeak. I enjoy myself. Caitlin is up there, doing well and enjoying herself too. There’s Brandenburg #5, and the-go-up-and-shoot-your-kid tradition is really nice.
http://abouthomemovies.org/2011/10/04/concert-renoir-2/
Jessica, Kathryn and James are at the house, having some Christmas pizza. “Quinta Quanto,” says Matt (4), waving his wand at James, who commences to do a very silly dance. “No—open your body!” James’ splayed limbs are unacceptable. Matt shakes his head wearily. “Like a door!” James finally gets the hinge concept. A relief.
Saturday, December 16, 2006: Drew (15) went to Mary’s to go 4-wheel tubing. I get a call from her. “Dad. I think I hurt my arm.” Your heart stops. It’s not regret that you feel—you gotta live—but there is a little pain. I drive over, and she skips out of the house, humourous and all right. “Alyssa fell on me.” “What did you say to her?” (Like my dad, righteously and to a fault, I’m always thinking about justice.) “Nothing,” replies my even more righteous daughter. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”
Thursday, Dec. 17, 1998: Drew (7) and Sarah (5) are taken by the Christmas spirit. Drew decides to go beyond the single name draw, and carefully chooses presents for everyone. Sarah starts writing more of her really spectacular letters. “Der Caitlin I hop yor praset is god I lic haw you piy wif mi I love you Fum Sarah to Caitlin.” And to Drew (with an unrepeatable picture): “Der Drew I Love you I love haw you be mi frend you oir mi fifre frind frum Sarah to Drew.”
Friday, December 17, 1999: Spencer (3) explains. “I wasn’t getting mad at you. I was just frustrated.” And later, “when you get mad, you need your tiny blanky.”
While I’m on the phone Sharon and Drew (7) decorate the tree. While everyone else is asleep. I condemn them. They sheepishly dismantle it all.
Monday, December 17, 2001: Each new Christmas song becomes another one of Spence’s (5) favourites. He goes around singing them in a very sweet, clean and accurate voice. “Joy to the world, na-na-na-na.”
Friday, December 17, 2004: Lunch duty at Brookside, and a revelation. We find the allegedly excessively circumspect Spencer (8) actually goes howling around in full joy and fellowship with a whole horde of clamouring kids. He sees us, and greets us, and doesn’t need us.
Monday, December 17, 2007: There’s a farewell for the Finlaysons, at the Taylors’. I see Sharon from across the room, living her worst nightmare. Talking and smiling and laughing with all and sundry, with a big piece of cilantro stuck in her teeth.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008: Matt (10) and Mum have made a cool model of George Washington crossing the Delaware. Somehow, wonderfully, George Washington has a number of Celtic warriors along with him, their braided hair blowing in the breeze.
Friday, Dec. 18, 1998: Sarah (5) and I went to her kindergarten program. Afterward a Mom tells us that her son comes home from school everyday and plays Sarah Duncan. He even calls his brother Sarah. Another kid, who walks with her at dismissal, gives a daily Sarah report.
Spence (2) was playing with the kitchen toys in the classroom, and was taking rather too long to finish. Fortunately—this time—I didn’t push, and so got to watch him patiently, methodically, exactly put every dish, every article of food, every single object in the exact cupboard, on the exact shelf or hook from which it had come. Then he looked up. “ready, Dad.”
I didn’t get it on our new camera, which Caitlin had just made off with.
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| Don't ask; you are texting... |
Spence (2) was playing with the kitchen toys in the classroom, and was taking rather too long to finish. Fortunately—this time—I didn’t push, and so got to watch him patiently, methodically, exactly put every dish, every article of food, every single object in the exact cupboard, on the exact shelf or hook from which it had come. Then he looked up. “ready, Dad.”
I didn’t get it on our new camera, which Caitlin had just made off with.
Saturday, December 18, 1999: I try to engage Spencer (3) in conversation. “I’m cleaning the house. I can’t talk to you right now. After I’m done cleaning I can talk to you.”
Saturday, December 18, 2004: Sharon and Drew (13) go to a swim meet. They sit there chatting and miss the big race. Elsewhere, she’s still knocking seconds and half seconds off her times. At the end, Sharon feels, there’s always gas in the tank. Will she ever push herself to or find her limits? Does that matter as much as the sportsmen claim?
http://abouthomemovies.org/2011/12/08/drew-films-spence-3/
http://abouthomemovies.org/2011/12/08/drew-films-spence-3/
Drew turns on the Simpsons. Claire watches attentively, then suddenly pipes up. “I like to kiss my own butt!”
Wednesday, December 19, 2001: The Lord of the Rings opens. We were all excited last night, and are full of anticipation all morning. We pull C and D from school, because sometimes it’s good to make an event out of things.
Three hours of straight enraptured beaming. Films aren’t books, and so there were obviously gaps and decisions. But for me there was nothing worth quibbling about. There were two girls, both enmeshed and immersed in their own ways. Caitlin (12) was uninhibited in her enthusiasm, and Drew (10) tried not to show it. We had a great time together. And on the screen, stupendous envisioning, superb spectacle built always on intimate observation and humane detail, unsuspected insights about the preciousness of the world’s children, about addiction and sinning and repenting. We managed to discuss it all, and since they want to go again with Mum maybe they’ll discuss it again.
The Hagues come over. Matty (3) has some trouble with poor little Neal. “That baby is bugging me!”
Wednesday, December 19, 2007: Sarah (14) is invited to babysit at the Stuart’s. She declines. Drew (160 goes in her stead, reluctantly. She comes back with $60. Sarah feels some regret.
Wednesday, December 20, 1995: The kids watch the ’39 version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Sarah (2) likes Quasimodo, or Foto, as she calls him. She goes around, intoning plummily. “Sanctuary! Sanctuary…”
Wednesday, December 20, 2000: Caitlin has her volleyball finals. She proves to be a very interesting spectator sport. She’s quite good, although they girls are mostly playing ping pong. She’s outlandishly short. And she—how can I say it most tactfully? She yaps. Constantly. Mind you, everyone had a good time. Me too.
Friday, December 20, 2002: The kids get out at noon. When I get home Drew (11) greets me and shows me some precious new trophies, presents and tokens from Sydney and Heather and Kenzie and a few other girls I don’t know. She’s extremely pleased, as of course she should be. There’s nothing like knowing that someone cares for you. Later when I’m in her room I notice that she’s put them all up like trophies in various places of honour. Nice.
Thursday, December 21, 2000: Spencer (4) decides that it’s time to sleep on the top bunk. With a sense of purpose, and a faraway look in his eyes, he does so.
Sunday, December 21, 2003: Us in church. Sarah (10) plays with me while the primary sings Silent Night. Caitlin (14) and Sarah Clarke play Angels We have Heard on their violins. Caitlin is poised to the point of effortlessness. Then our Pachelbel. Drew’s (12) fingers are marvelously firm and sure. She never wavers. Caitlin has no music to look at. Memory, or made up? I put neither past her. My misstep comes when I misread Drew’s signal and end the piece three separate times.
That was kind of thrilling! On our bench Caitlin laughingly shows us her trembling hand. We don’t think the less of her when she admits her mortality.
http://abouthomemovies.org/2011/11/07/caitlin-close-up/
http://abouthomemovies.org/2011/11/07/caitlin-close-up/
