Guardians

We just had a wonderful visit from L's sister, Tasha, who may or may not be thrilled about being pictured on the good ol' World Wide Web (above), but who acted like a true patron saint to Cleo during her weekend stay in Baltimore. Nothing like an experienced mom to offer sage, practical advice, and nothing like a true CHHS '88er to pitch in and clean a bathroom. Thanks, Tasha.

Cleaning bathrooms is not, we should vigorously emphasize, expected of our houseguests. In fact, the only expectations around here these days resemble the codes imposed on any visitor to a medieval Benedictine monastery: we retire at about 8, get up several times in the middle of the night, and rise with the sun. And, as Benedict insisted (in rule 22), no knives should be worn to bed.

Such rules are on our mind because we recently hired a part-time nanny to work a couple days each week in the fall. She seems great, and came with glowing recommendations, and so we're hopeful that Cleo will take to her - and, as importantly, that she'll take to Cleo. Still, it's already weird to think about asking someone else to participate in helping us to raise this little girl.

Weird, perhaps, but not without precedent. In fact, it turns out that Beethoven - along with many, many other children in his era - was largely raised by parents who were not his own. As a youngster, he gave piano lessons to the daughters of the von Breuning family, and he gradually became so close to the family that he spent many nights at their house. In Beethoven and his World, H.P. Clive summarizes the composer's feelings for the family: “Beethoven would later refer to the von Breunings as the ‘guardian angels’ of his youth." More specifically, he singled out the mother, Helene, noting that "she knew how to keep the insects away from the blossoms."

Hopefully, we've found a nanny who knows similar tricks. And we've already found out that Cleo already has a guardian angel, in the form of her only aunt.