Cooking for lunch... Today: cream of vegetables (6/6)

I'm sure now that Alea is going to sleep a bit longer and that she will let me prepare lunch. Today I’m going to prepare cream of vegetables... with leeks, onions and potatos, a little bit of oil and salt. The sounds of a couple birds singing and a dog barking slip into the house and it makes it seem like a country scene but, the sound of the crane working at Borne’s Market infiltrates itself amid the sounds of my first cutting attempts… It’ll be better if I start by getting the pot on the stove… the wáter, the cover… I turn the stove on and now I can go back to cutting the leeks, onions and potatoes, and to listening to the soundscape. There is no rhythm, no harmony, no melody, but the birds’ songs with their almost constant repetition, the voices down the street (now it sounds like an arabic language; then like a family of Nordic tourists; and the crane, subtle and obstinate) and the indoor sounds braid themseves in chorus, following each other, meeting and drawing away, coming and going…

(05:10) The pot’s lid rattling with its irregular rhythm tells me that water is boiling... Warned by the bell of a biclycle down the street, I turn off the stove, take the blender out of the cabinet, assemble it, test it, and I pump up the volume on the computer in which I watch the news on TVE 24hr’s channel. With everything prepared

(08:15), the symphony for blender and boiled vegetables, crushed inside the same metallic pot, begins, being performed by Braun 300 Watts hand blender. A slow and scattered beginning is nothing but the preamble to the composition

(09:39), the final little taps… and Alea doesn't notice a thing (lucky me).

 (10:00) Back after the blender and vegetable concert (which masked everything) the news continue, the birds, the voices, the pot, the salt…

(11:18) Mom comes in... Alea's still half asleep, I’m relaxed and about to have lunch.
After lunch I’ll let mother and daughter enjoy the afternoon together, and I’ll join in.

You’re always late, but... (5/6)

It’s about time for her 2 o'clock feed. Of course, I was in La-La land and now I have to prepare the milk when she is already anxious and crying in dispair…
That’s my luck… I’m starting to whistle a song when the next one is already starting (1:20). The truth is that it doesn’t seem that the music is having any effect just by itself, and it isn’t until I am finished getting the bottle warmer ready and we start the dnce that she begins to forget her hunger.

(04:50) As the song ends, a dog barks as an answer to the siren of an ambulance or a police car. Such sounds slip into the room. For a moment, barking, music and sirens blend as if they all were part of a single composition. These are casual and subtle games to which we normally pay no attention but, when one stops and listens, they become quite entertaining and suggestive because, in the end, one can daydream and imagine anything at will…

(06:25) Sometimes it's not even necessary for the song to end: in an impasse, the taps of the bottle shaking inside the bottle warmer, a bicycle’s bell, and the warning signal of the bottle warmer configure a self-governing tune, its sounds almost concealing one another... and all at once with Alea’s hollers of hunger.

(07:35)This dignified and delicate song is perfect for Alea's feeding time, but also for the street and home sounds to dialogue and offer their subtle and random games. I adjust the volumen… and listen…

It is difficult to explain the sensations that invade me when I listen to such an arbitrary and fleeting sound blend crafted by the metallic strikes that alert us of the momentary presence of the butane delivery truck (which brings forward a spatial dimmension typical of a busy street) and the song that is currently playing (which resonates in the closed space of the living room). In addition, Alea’s suction to the bottle’s nipple (and the subsequent breaths that the bottle takes in order to recuperate the air lost with each suction) interposes itself amid the song of some birds that no longer chirp while flying but instead remain motionless, and it even seems, at times, that they intone a melody expressly written for this moment. Alea’s suctions braided in with the birds’ songs bare the value of this moment. Feeding time.

Also, in some occasions, the doors that reinforce the end of a piano phrase or the screech produced by the motion of the cab running through a small section down the arm of a crane (working on the lengthy remodeling of Borne Market) highlight a voice.

(09:45) These are individual, autonomous sounds with a life of their own but they all arrive on time, each one with its own idiosyncrasy, with its own attire and sheen, to an unscheduled appointment…

(11:26)To finish it all up, a great breath from the bottle seized by the claws of the beast!

Washing up: a power struggle (4/6)

Since Alea seems to be relaxed, I decide to tackle another activity that I have left: dishes. With all imaginable doubts, I tell her my intentions so she doesn’t think that I leave just because… and I even sit her in her rocking chair to have her under control. I fold the baby changer and as quietly as possible I get to the task... The noise from the pots and pans gets mixed with the sounds breaching in from the balcony: someone whistling a melody, birds and some voices, a motorcycle in the distance..
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 03:30 It seems that she doesn’t like my decision, but I have no other choice but to do the dishes… Perhaps this can even be counterproductive… who knows, it’s possible that the pots and pans’ noises… I try to soothe her with my talking but that’s not beeing that effective… In the end, as expected, baby’s wishes trump her dad’s intentions and, after apologyzing to her, I proceed to satisfy her little baby wishes.

04:30 In case pots and pans and little baby wishes were not enough, while confused amongst the first beats of the first song I play (Yan Tiersen’s “Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain”) the grandparents call us by videochat, but it is not a good time… now it’s time to dance to another of her usual melodies. Rhythm is ideal and I mark it with the tipical pats on her diaper, as if it were a waltz: little round and simple melodies, fun arrangements that also allow me to dance at different intensities… twirls, swings, silly little steps, we enjoy it very much.

07:35 Alea has forgotten the world and has fallen asleep… I leave her on her blanket, on the couch, I sit on my office chair in the living room in front of the computer and I take some time to chat with her mother who, once finished her maternity leave (shared with mine) has gone back to work. I find her in the office and I give her the status report. It is a good time because when Alea is calmed, relaxed or sleeping I also relax and enjoy. In this case I also enjoy the sounds that come in throught the window: those birds that, swiftly, chirp, sing or simply let themselves to be heard, just like the people passing by or staying still, the children playing, a dog or two, the butcher’s saw… they exist.

I recline myself on the chair taking pleasure in a moment like this (defeated or defeating)… but Alea starts to get uneasy… I tell her something just to see what she does but it is time to feed her again and… that’s all, folks.

Hygiene and fitness, necessary (3/6)

When I realize, Alea starts to move about on her blanket, which is extended on the couch… there’s no music and the window is open: some children play and shout out in the park down the street and their sounds dominate over the neighbors’ conversations who go, come, stop…
Mean
Barely noticeable, the bells are ringing in the background again. This time the bells don’t call the hours; it’s a different sound (must be a special mass or something of that sort).

In the good company of some bossa nova we proceed to do some exercise, which is nothing more than gently stretching her extremities: one arm, the other, both; one leg, the other, both… up, down… to one side, to the other… extend, bend…

(08:15) A child’s shout has made a dog bark and, suddenly, all the dogs in the area have something to say. I would be better to close the window till they calm down.

And, once exercise is finished, let’s dance a little.

(10:00) It seems that she is not that interested in dancing and prefers to be lying on the sofa making her little noises… Oh well, so we get back to gymnastics and little noises…Whatever it takes to make her feel relaxed and happy.

while, dad is preparing the changing station, a clean diaper, baby wipes, Alea’s creams… First I unbotton and remove, head first, her bodysuit. Then I take off the stickers on the sides that hold the diaper in place; the diaper gets loose (today she has only urinated); I clean it well with a wet wipe, front to back, and I rub some ointment to avoid irritation. After that, I apply moisturizer cream to soothe her skin right before putting on the clean diaper, the bodysuit…

Dancing, breastfeeding, sleeping. (2/6)

Music is not a bad resource. That’s the reason why I start the computer but, evidently, it’s more important to put some water in the bottle warmer first, and then play the music…

Despite my irritation after forgetting the water, Alea’s shouting in my ear, and all the stress, I manage to get everything ready and, at last, I get to play some music to dance to… That is very relaxing for her and it seems that she even forgets the hunger that a minute ago appeared to have been torturing her.

Vinicius de Moraes’ “Como e duro trabalhar” is the first song from the author’s compilation that I play and, following a slow tempo while little taps on Alea’s diaper mark the contratempo, we move about the room.

(03:40)When the water starts to boil I spin the bottle so that the heat of the surface reaches deep into the liquid of life (breast milk) and with the acoustic signal of the warmer… it comes a few more spins.

(04:05) I sit on the office’s chair in the living room and... let’s drink.

This is a crucial moment… if she doesn’t feed quietly, at her own pace, who knows…

This particular Vinicius’ compilation is her usual tune first thing in the morning. I think she likes it (or I want to believe it) and I play it nearly every day. I like it because one can dance to it more intensely and rhythmically, or gently and with a certain cadence which doesn’t keep one off from standing still or sitting while feeding her, just like now; that’s why I think it works well for us. This music also isolates us from the outside sounds that practically disappear, veiled.

If I am to trust her breathing rhythm and her sucking on the bottle’s nipple, she seems relaxed and calm… kids adapt to everything and it seems to you that they even like it.

I squirm in the office chair that I have in the living room because while she doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable, my arm and my back are getting achy. As she finishes the bottle, her eyes close softly and while she makes some effort to keep them open (it seems that her eyelids are made out of iron and her eyelashes out of lead), she finally gives in…

(09:20) With Alea completely asleep, I get up from the chair and accommodate her in the armchair, on top of her blanket, so she

can sleep for a while. I seize the moment to prepare a coffee that awakes me and to take a look at RTVE’s 24H Channel…

Cospe, in her investiture as the new President of Castilla-La Mancha o something like that… (what’s upon us!). Alea revolves inher blanket (I hope she won’t remember that wicked woman) but she doesn’t wake up…

A pleasant awakening? (1/6)

10:00 a.m. Envolved by the discrete ringing of the cathedral’s bells, the chirps of birds fluttering by my window, and the strikes –scattered but decided, of the broom that the cleaning lady manouvers around the building’s inside patio’s baseboards (today is cleaning day) I wake up a morning of any day in early June. I’m rested but with a long day ahead. It's true that I'm on a shared maternity leave and, thus, I don't have to go to work, but it's also true that I won’t be short of things to do even wihtout moving away from home.

(02:00) Once I decide to get up, I find Alea in a deeper asleep than usual... but I prefer to wake her up because in short it will be her feeding time and I should start preparing everything. Street sounds (better yet, Montanyan’s alley sounds) to which the window faces, become present until they invite one to join in, even if passively, in conversations or events that are taking place... and there are all quite varied.

(03:00) We leave the bedroom and I place the baby girl on her blanket by the living room, all stretched up on the couch so she can wake up little by little and sneeze peacefully (this is very common). The little balcony door (which faces the corner of Carders and Allada Vermell’s streets) lets the neighborhood sounds slip into the living room. At this moment the street is very quiet and the sounds of birds are prominent, alternating with Alea's babbling (and her dad's babbles too, who also joins in).

(06:30) Ah… of course she wants to eat… and daddy hasn’t got the bottle ready so, as he prepares her breakfast he will have to bear the disconsolate cry of a hungry baby. In moments like this, rushing never serves as good comforting means…

(09:00) …and kisses don’t solve anything either. Only holding her in my arms and providing a little bit of movement will do.