Wednesday night I watched three straight hours of Law and Order with our little baby on my lap most of the time.
It's a hell of a life. I'm supposed to be writing my dissertation, but it's relatively impossible with a five year old and a new baby in the house. We're trying to get adjusted so my wife and I can get back on our writing schedules, but two months into the new one and the energy level isn't there.
I'm also finding it really hard because nearly nothing has been written on Mary Heaton Vorse, and most of what has been written concerns her Gastonia novel Strike!, which was written after the period I'm working on, so I'm stuck in primary source land.
Tiny babies don't really cooperate by providing extended periods of uninterrupted thought time. Usually they'll let you prepare dinner, read a magazine article, or watch TV, but you can forget trying to sit down with your copy of The Prison Notebooks and trying to connect Gramsci's essay on intellectuals to 1920's reportage. I have regained my skill at diaper changing, however.
Right now it's nearing midnight and the baby is sleeping in her bassinet beside the bed, her arms stretched out above her head. It's a wonderful sight.
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