1951 August

AUGUST, 1951.

    These are the days when I make up a batch of cookie mix in the presently unused baby bath. I mix enough to do me four weeks at the rate of four dozen cookies every three days.

   These are the days when M.J., upon looking at a wedding procession at Central Church asks,"Mommie, what do brides and grooms do after they get home?" And I, wildly thinking on one track, wish fervently that I had honed up on the birds and bees booklet distributed by the Parent Teacher Association, "Well, they start keeping house. The bride cooks and dusts and sweeps, and the groom waters the lawn, and washes the car," "No, not that, Mommie", confirming my worst fears, "1 mean, just when they go home after the wedding, "Well, Ah. . " For heavens sake, she's only four years old. "Well, . . .""Mommie!" Impatiently. "Doesn't she FIRST change her bride dress?"

   These are the days when holiday means a hectic period of traveling and visiting, and a dark period of utter exhaustion afterwards. A car trip is the shortest distance between Johns. These are the days when the baby gives two short coughs of warning, and then urps his whole days food intake down the opening between the car seats-- the ONLY place in the whole car not protected by seat covers.

Fun, though, these days, to stop at a roadside beach for a swim- to count the innumerable cows in the fields as we go by- to have a discordant family sing-song-- and the very much together family feeling when the three of them are sleeping peacefully as we drive along. Then there is the unbounded joy of getting home to Gran with the big bunch of daises picked for her by Suzanne. There is a slightly different twist to these days. I have taken on the job of Children's Librarian for six months. So my cleaning woman falls in love and lets her knight in shining armor interfere with her work by the day.

   These are the days when Jimmy cuts three teeth on one weekend, and Suzanne acquires a fluctuating temperature at the same time. I never seem to be doing one job at a time any more. Right now it is 10 p.m. and I am drying my hair in front of the heater, and trying to type at the same time. I still cant exist without putting words on paper.

If the librarian job does nothing else, it will teach me just how much time I have at home when I'm NOT working. I'll be positively luxuriating in idleness when I am back as a full time housewife again.

Of course I couldn't attempt the two jobs without Mother. She's a wonder with the children" too good to them,the acme of patience-the essence
of understanding.

Mary Jane has periods now at practically five of being a real little girl, not just a bundle of disturbances as Suzanne is at three and three quarters. When Wilf picks Suz up at nights to plant her little posterior on the john, she says "No!" in her sleep, just as a matter of course. The other day after a period of unaccustomed calm in the house, she walked over to me, lifted her impertinent little face, and said in a loud voice "1 don't wanta!". I guess peace is too much for Suzanne. She has decided, "I not taking ballet." When questioned: "Mommie, I not turning my heels in!

I think the first lesson was a little too strenuous on the exercises. It must have hurt a bit because she has decided, for the moment, against the whole thing. Mary Jane is lapping it up. She likes the sailor's hornpipe and is doing it all over the house. Jimmy is trying to imitate, and at fifteen months, his one-two-three- hop is something for Sadler's Wells!

Jimmy is at a joyous age. Responsive and mischievous. Trying a few words. Naa for nose. Ja for Mary Jane. Adan for Suzanne. Words did I say? Well, to a mother they are words. Jimmy is an early riser. "Mama!"

I open a cautious eye to the grey light of dawn. There is his bright little face clamped between the bars of the crib. "Mama!" like the Lord of Creation. "Up!"

I sleepily haul him into bed with me, hoping that he will settle down. But he rolls and tumbles and sticks his fingers into my eyes and sits on m head.Last week I tried a new way of getting a few more minutes sleep. I took, graham Wafers up to bed with me at night, and gave them to him when he commanded me to arise. Have you ever had graham wafers crumbled in your eyes? Have you ever lain on them? I was so sleepy, I finally brushed them into a mound and shoved them under the pillow, hoping in vain for another five minutes...

These are the days!