Sunday evening, 9:44pm: Jasper stared me in the eye, opened his mouth wide in recognition, and gave me his first real I am so thrilled you’re here smile.
9:44:07pm: It hit me- not for the first time- that I was stupidly in love with this little boy.
9:44:15pm: Jasper, still smiling, turned his head to the side and spit up an impressive amount of his last feeding.
9:44:19pm: Checked in with self- still stupid, still in love.
In other news, a.k.a. stuff I’m doing when not ogling my children’s faces (’cause we know it sure as heck ain’t writing for any of the paid gigs- sorry, P.J.)…I’ve spent a fair bit of my evening hours back with an early flame of mine: televised mysteries.
(Oh, and for those of you who were momentarily excited about a potential departure from all this baby talk only to see me jump firmly over to the nerditude of mystery-watchin’…well, I apologize.)
Anyway. Television.
Back when I was up with newborn Nora all hours of the night, her formative Pavlovian-response music was the opening theme of The Office. (And eventually, it probably became the stuff of P.J.’s nightmares.) It’s terrible that I can’t remember what Susannah’s midnight feeding theme song was. Perhaps her mother’s copious weeping- I really couldn’t say. More likely than not it was a medley of P.J.’s snores, my whines of exhaustion, and a few rounds of everyone’s favorite game, Is That A Cat Crying Or A Baby?
“Uh, don’t you think that’s an awful lot of TV?”
But Jasper- oh, Jasper- now that kid gets the quintuple episode punch of Psych, Elementary, Sherlock, Murdoch Mysteries, and Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. (The latter three are from England, Canada, and Australia, respectively. Jasper is keeping it straight global.) And this weekend the girls and I powered through a couple of Nancy Drew films (the ones from the ’30s starring Bonita Granville) which caused Zu to say- direct quote- “I’m a little fooked (spooked). It’s a little fookly.” But then immediately demanded to watch the next one as well.
So I’m in good company.
Perhaps the streamlining of my TV-viewing to be All Mysteries, All The Time is a direct response to the utter chaos currently taking over my house. In these episodes, at least, I’m getting resolution. A tidy wrapping-up. A sense that all is right with the world.
Or maybe I’m just enjoying the visual and vocal quartet of James Roday, Jonny Lee Miller, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Yannick Bisson. And yeah, okay, Essie Davis as well. She’s a fox.
In conclusion, I’m covered in bodily fluids, obsessed with my son, have most likely neglected my second daughter, and am seeking therapy in the form of hourlong mysteries. Wanna hang out?
I’m pretty sure we’ve got all the ingredients for a swell party.
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