Saudade

A couple of years ago I ran across a term that was new to me - a Portuguese word saudade. It's one of those "impossible to translate" words that doesn't have a clear or easy definition in English. It's close to nostalgia or melancholy, both of which have Portuguese equivalents, but there's another aspect to it that makes it uniquely Portuguese (though a few other languages have similar expressions). Of the many attempts at definitions on the wikipedia page, the one I like best is "a vague and constant desire for something that does not and probably cannot exist." Emphasis added - it's that last bit that I like best - the feeling of longing for something that no longer exists and yet could not exist, or maybe never really existed.

I've felt saudade several times over the past couple of years - most often in the summers on family vacations that bring up old memories and old echoes of family history. I feel it when I think of my tenuous connection to my Portuguese heritage, and how ever more fragile it is for my children. And I feel it when I think of the loosening connections to the eastern shore, and my mother's family and my old friends.

A couple of weeks ago for some reason I was thinking of how much we document of our modern lives. The blogs, the videos, the 10,000 photos on my computer. But the past is all just memories. If I close my eyes, I can remember the cadence of both my paternal grandparents' accented English. I have a vague feeling that I remember a little of my maternal grandmother's, but almost no memory of what my maternal grandfather sounded like - it's moved just beyond my memory. I do still hear the voice of my mother's sister in my head. Oh, honey, is what I always remember her saying.

A few years ago my parents sent me a self published memoir/recipe book written by a woman who knew my paternal, Portuguese grandparents when they lived in Brunswick, Georgia. My grandfather, who immigrated by himself at age 16 to this country, was a pillar of the Portuguese community there. He welcomed new immigrants, help run the social structure of the community, and it was he who raised the money and traveled to Portugal to bring back the statue of Our Lady of Fatima which is still used for the Blessing of the Fleet on Mother's Day.

My grandfather is the man on the far left in the front. We went to the Blessing of the Fleet once, when I was 10 or 11 and my grandparents were still alive and I don't actually remember much. It was hot. There was a lot of Portuguese spoken, which my brother, mother and I did not understand. It was just a little boring for me and my brother. My grandparents, who followed the shrimp and left Brunswick for Key West in the 1950s, were very proud to be there, and very popular among their old friends.

I believe there is a small plaque in the church that talks about how Our Lady was brought to the US. I believe it may mention my grandfather, but I'm not sure. I think maybe someday I'd like to at least stop by on some family trip, with Elizabeth and Andrew in tow. They will be bored. I will sit in the cool, dark church and light a candle for Our Lady and feel just a little saudade.

The From Left to Write Book Club consists of over 100 bloggers who read books and then write posts inspired by the book (not a review of the book). This month's post was inspired by Mr. Rosenblum Dreams in English, by Natasha Solomons, a lovely book that was entirely about saudade. As a member of the book club, I was given a free copy of the book, and, because I quickly and eagerly accept free items and was one of the first 20 bloggers to sign up for the book, also a package of Walkers Shortbread. Thank you, publishers. I usually pass along these books to someone else, but I think I'd like to hold onto this one for a little bit. You can borrow it. Or visit your local library or Amazon or better yet a small, quaint local bookshop in the countryside and you won't be disappointed.


Tell me, when do you feel saudade?

Boo-boos and writing

I was going to write today about Andrew's rough week - the falls (seems like every day), the scrapes (last weekend), the fat lip (Wednesday), but then Elizabeth's writing last night captured my attention, too. So first Andrew - this has been a rough week for the little guy. Last Saturday, somehow he tried climbing the wall in our backyard and slipped and scraped up all the knuckles on his left hand, and so he's been sporting impressive scabs. Maybe because of the scabs, he's been pretty focused on his hand as his boo-boo, so even though he's fallen and gotten subsequent extremely minor injuries, if you ask him about his boo-boo he holds out his hand. I kiss it every time he holds it out and one day he asked, Do you love my boo-boo?

The other notable injury occurred when he tripped over the rug in the kitchen and smacked down on his face, giving him a fat upper lip and a crack in his lower lip. Neither seem to bother him at all. He's fallen out of the stroller more times this week than we can count (since he insists on climbing in and out himself), and once fell climbing off a chair, smacking his head on the floor.

I of course scoop him up and he cries hard while I feel around for any injuries. But, tough boy that he is, I'll say, ok, let's calm down - tell mommy what hurts? And he'll calm down and most of the time say, scary! and just need a little comfort from the scary part of the fall. We've learned you have to be precise with your wording - if you try to ask where he fell or what he fell on (trying to figure out what part of him hurts) he just looks at you and says, the floor! (Duh, mommy!) But nothing phases him for too long, and after a quick cuddle he's always right back where he left off.

--
Last night at dinner Elizabeth had a pad of paper and a pen. One of the issues with her writing struggles has always been that her imagination works much faster than her writing skills could possibly approach. So sometimes, she narrates a story and chicken scratches on the paper while she speeds along in her own world. We were a little alarmed at the start of this story:
Yep, bad boys. Ut oh! But then she started in on the story part, and there is no way I could ever even capture the complexity of her stories, but apparently the boys were henpecked but the farmer was really worried about the foxes but the chickens took care of it and then the bad boys were henpecked some more. That's the vastly abridged version. Or something like it.

Writing

Elizabeth has struggled on and off in school this year, as she makes the transition to reading and writing. It was rough going in the beginning, but we decided for better or worse, to just power through. And now she loves writing and learning to read and wants to write all the time. She writes lists, she captions photos, she narrates stories, she labels - it's all come together. Well, sort of. There's a long way to go yet.

This is my favorite picture ever I think. It just cracks me up - the detail is great. Can you read it? Translation provided below.

Tell me what
you did on your
snow day?
I had hot
(trailing down the right side) chocolate inside.
And the picture shows her two friends playing outside while she is sitting inside drinking hot chocolate. I don't know what the two friends are doing.

Wordless Wednesday - more sleep

(so we left our camera at Rich's parent house and I hadn't uploaded pictures for months, so jsut going through shots that are on my camera - this is the drawer of her nightstand, she must have been rummaging before falling asleep.)

Name that Baby Flashback

It wasn't until a few months after I took the picture of Andrew that I realized we had similar poses in the same outfit, and now of course it's taken me over a year to get it posted! Let's see, Elizabeth was about 18.5 months old in her picture, and Andrew was 14 months old for his. I know it's pretty obvious, but I'm surprised by how much they look alike, and also by how much older Andrew looks than Elizabeth, when she was quite older. The lack of hair really persisted for a while.

What is it with kids and the fridge?

Wordless Wednesday - riding in the car

The First ER Visit or, Perfection is overrated

There was a point on Sunday when I thought, I have to write a blog post, because we are really having a pretty perfect day. But when the day ends at the ER, well, it's clear you shouldn't count any proverbial good days until all eyes are firmly shut in blissful slumber, now should you?

So, let's recap the good parts - brunch at Louisiana Kitchen with our now West Coast friend, Murph. Delish, as always, even though small children don't eat brunch. They eat breakfast, then they eat lunch, so why are we expecting them to sit quietly and eat again at the weird hour of 11 am? Elizabeth ate nothing but colored, whereas Andrew just attempted to reasonably quietly wreak havoc. Then we went home and attempted to put Andrew down for a nap. Which he refused. In no uncertain terms.

Hmm, you must be thinking, this doesn't exactly sound like a great day. But then we went to DAR Constitution Hall, for the US Air Force Band's free concert series, with special guests from So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing With the Stars. Awesome! But also kinda weird - nothing like seeing a woman in full dress blues belting out Katy Perry's Firework and Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA, followed by another woman knock Lionel Ritchie's All Night Long, followed by another guy in dress blues belt the hell out of a number of songs. And then the band took backstage and the dancers performed - Benjie, Sabra, and someone else from SYTYCD were great. E&A were spellbound. But then A's mesmerized look faded into a thousand-mile stare before he nodded into a nap (with pounding pop/rock music and a couple of thousand cheering fans as his white noise background, apparently). It was a lot of fun. (We went last year when the featured guest was Melinda Doolittle, a past American Idol contestant. In two weeks, there's another concert featuring country/rock group Lonestar, which we will skip.) But really, a holdiay weekend, a fun concert, all for free? It doesn't get much better.

To cap off the night we walked to dinner in the neighborhood with friends. After dinner, just as it was beginning to spit rain/sleet, we let the 5 kids play around the planting beds outside the restaurant, running around and around on the ledge. And just as we turned to leave, 4 of the kids came running back to us, but Elizabeth popped up from the other side with a loud cry and blood running down her face. Rich ran and grabbed her, the other mom and I grabbed for the baby wipes, and the other dad corralled the 4 kids. I wiped off most of the blood and we saw the gash on her forehead. Other mom immediately said, you need to go to the hospital, that's too deep, and probably needs stitches. So we made a plan, after we scouted the area and decided (the giant blood drops were a clue) Elizabeth had hit her head on one of the small uplights focused on the trees - raised, rounded lights, with curved edges but not sharp edges. Other family went home and looked up the hours of the local emergent care center. Rich put E in A's stroller and set off at a high speed for home and the car to take E, and I trailed after with a slower, now-walking A. By the time I got home, other family let me know the center was closed, so Rich would have to go to a hospital, so I called and let him know, then tried to focus on getting Andrew in bed. He was a little befuddled: where dit-da [sister]? Where Daddy? But he cooperated nicely and then I just had to wait.

Two hours later, E came bursting home. Turns out the ER was "awesome" but a little boring. When they walked in they were processed in right away and the triage nurse said, good thing you came in, that's going to need some attention. After processing and triage, they had to wait about an hour in the back before being seen. The cleaning of the wound was the only stressful part, and the doctor decided it was small enough it could be closed with glue, no stitches needed, though there will probably be a scar. Elizabeth was particularly impressed with the stacks of "folded napkins" (gauze bandages) and liked having one taped to her head.

Yesterday, we took off the gauze. Of course the tape was stuck to a little bit of hair, and of course the gauze was stuck in the dermabond. I was able to get the tape unstuck, but Elizabeth was squirming too much for me to get at the gauze. She told us she wanted to look at it and walked by herself into the hall to stand at the mirror, and came back a minute later and told us she pulled the gauze off herself. That's my girl.
It's less than an inch long, really. The glue didn't really close it up, so I think there will be a scar, but in a few days, when the glue rubs off, we'll start applying Vitamin E oil.

For our first ER experience, it wasn't all that bad. I can hope it's our last ER experience, I don't know if we'll be that lucky!