I shit you not...

I forgot to mention it earlier...

This afternoon, JB gave us the sign for diaper and we changed him - all wet- good call, son!
Then, a few minutes later, he gave us the sign again.
Katy and I looked at one another and shrugged. Then we did a little undressing in fast-forward speed, got his clothes off and sat him on the toilet.

The kid has some very obvious cues. At home when we see him straining, we ask him "Are you going potty?" We try to take that opportunity to use the word "potty" and the word and sign for "diaper". Then we're all like, "good job". Or if the expression on his face indicates excessive "straining" we might say, "It's okay, bug, you're doing great... you're going potty... hang in there, dude... good work." etc.

Look, don't judge us... this is an important part of parenting!

So, while he was on the pot, we were trying to get him to see the connection: "potty," "great job," "no diaper" etc.

There are moments in your life where you want to stop time, look at the camera and go, "Is this really happening?" I think that mostly happens when the stuff gets a little too real: at a birth, at a death, during an accident, if your spouse faints at the alter, etc. It's maybe a splash of denial when you are reconciling competing emotions like fear wrapped in eager excitement or angry stress accompanied by gratitude.

This sort of happened to me today.

He shit in the toilet.
I mean it was a completely gross moment and I was at the same time really proud and excited...

The recognition of the nastiness of the event and the silliness of our frenzied preparations as we ran him naked to the pot did not surprise me. The "excitement" and "pride" however, did catch me off guard.

There was a split second, between the excited shouting when we were trying to provide an appropriate level of positive reinforcement, when I turned toward an imaginary camera crew (a la Jim from the office) to register my moppy haired grimace and vaguely furrowed brow: "Really? Seriously? This is happening?"

Parenthood: Oh, it's getting real.

New Year's Eve

Things are going well on our visit to Ohio.

We arrived on Sat, the 27th. Web dropped us off at the airport. We flew to Baltimore, had a 1.5 hr layover, and then flew to Columbus. JB -10 days post ear surgery laughed (literally) as the plane took off. He gave us a couple of adroable "wow"s and "what's that" as he looked out the airplane window. We read a couple of books, and then he fell asleep in kt's arms for the last 45 minutes of a one hour flight. We fed him food we brought from home during the layover, and he entertained himself quietly and sweetly during the second leg of the journey, teasing us while rubbing his eyes, but never quite falling asleep. Every age brings a little terror over potential travel meltdowns. When we flew with him when he was 4 months old, he slept the whole time. When he was 9 months old, he was very curious and fidgety and tired and we had to walk him up and down the plane to get him to chill. I thought this time would be a nightmare. Rather, I feared it would be, but useless concerns... he handled it like a champ and as usual, he made us look good.

Kt's dad bought a car seat and her mom a stroller, so we didn't need to bring either item, instead carried him through the airports in the hiking backpack which turned out to be great in that it seconds as a chair for him.

The family has really enjoyed seeing the boy (oh yeah, and us too.) They are wild for him, impressed by him and totally in love. Until our arrival, they hadn't seen him walk in person. Though we do a little ichatting with the grannies, so they had seen it via the internet. Uncle Josh and JB met up for the first time in over a year and circled each other mentally the way frat brothers do before they clasp shoulders and collapse into a loving wrestling match. When we couldn't keep the baby away from all the computers we have out Uncle J downloaded baby games for Granny and Granna's mac - very cool stuff.

Last night, with much encouragement from Uncle J, JB chewed on a lemon wedge. His face contorted, his eyes blinked in tart-clenched spasms, his body shuttered, but he went back for it 3 or 4 times for all the attention it got him.

JB has been doing so well. He listens to what we tell him; he's eating well, sleeping well, napping pretty good. He knows who everyone is which shouldn't surprise me, but it does: "Where's (fill in any name)?" and he looks toward that person. He's had a few meltdowns and has trouble transitioning from sleep to wake up without some fussiness, but we can't help be proud of the go-with-the-flow temperament and the way he is generally handling the trip.

Newletter: Month 15

(Photos to be added)

Dear JB,

Today you are one year and 3 months old. I was going to try and fake it, write it late, and quietly post it, but it looks like I've got to give it up and leave the 14 month newsletter in pictorial form. In theory, we should have had time to write some stuff up about Halloween and Thanksgiving and the fact that you started WALKING in your 14th month, etc... but your parents opted to spend time with you and the extended family rather than blogging. And then December flew by like a whistle in the wind.

In this past month. You have become a two legged creature. You started walking before Thanksgiving, but in the last four weeks have improved your balance, coordination, comfort, and speed. You quickly learned to get from sitting to standing, usually via a downward-facing-dog pose. You are not afraid to fall down and get back up; you don't even mind if I give you a few playful pushes to test your balance.

You and Cameron have been in the One year old room at day care for several months now. You like that room because there are cooler toys and a big table that you all sit in (the chairs are built right INto the table.) You also take naps on cots in the middle of the day. You mommies and grandparents think it is a bit much for you to spend the whole day with one 2 hr nap, but all in all, you are handling the schedule pretty well. You come home exhausted a lot of the time. The "commute" nap that we are used to in the 30 minute car ride on the way home is not a guarantee anymore because you are facing forward and much more curious about what you see inside and outside of the car.

I've started a list of things that we know we haven't taught you and therefore we have to credit day care: blowing your nose into a tissue, smelling things, flapping your wing when you tell us what a duck says, vacuuming (or pushing any object remotely shaped like a vacuum in a vacuuming motion), clapping hands to music (you've been clapping for a while, but you just started "clapping" when you hear music this month), stomping feet to music, throwing a fit...

Just kidding on that last one, day care.

You eat pretty much everything now. We try to keep you away from fried foods, foods with nitrates, foods with a lot of seeds, nuts (even though we doubt highly that you would have an allergy). You only drink milk and water, no juice. We've started letting you have an occasional cookie and dessert. You really like meat (beef and chicken) and eat it by the handful. We also give you tofu, beans, yogurt, and cheese regularly. We use seasoning in your food and you are a super good eater. You like fruit, especially bananas and grapes right now. You will eat your veggies too, but not if there is meat around. We still aren't great at having our food at the same time as you eat, but now that you are not on a special baby diet, we are getting better at it. The problem is that if you eat a meal before we do, you just want to eat ours too, and so that seems silly.

You got tubes put in your ears last week, and it could be a coincidence, but you seem to have had a communication explosion since then. You used to only say "oh" and you had a lot of different inflections and things that "oh" meant. But in the last 2 to 3 weeks, you say, "wow" and "what is that?" and "hi" "ut oh". You can sign "diaper," "more," and "milk." You make sounds for lions, cows, monkeys, ducks, and frogs. You grunt and growl and point when you need things and follow directions well. (Ex: "Go put this ball in that box" pretty much always gets done). You have started trying to say other words as well, but you drop then ends of words; "bell" becomes "beh", "hot" becomes "ha", and "hi" sounds like a karate chop. You imitate things more and more. Yesterday, Mama was stretching her neck and when we looked at you, you were looking at her moving her head in the same ways.

You are an old hand at "high five" and just recently have become able to "punch it in". For several weeks, we hold our fist up for the "punch it in" bump and you use your pointer to poke at our fist. It was great cause for celebration when you finally "got it" and bumped our fist.

You are in the middle of a learning explosion. Every day you do something you've never done before... some examples:

Bring us a book, hand the book to us and turn around and inch your butt back to sit out our laps
Take a book off the shelf, open it, and blah,blah, blah read to yourself.

Things you still LOVE beyond our ability to describe: "in/out", "open/close", the letter "O", rolling or throwing a ball, remote controls, telephones, talking (baby talk) on phones.

Things we noticed that you don't love yet: Snow, getting fed when you can feed yourself.

You know what spoons and forks can do, but you are about 4 times as likely to use your hands and fingers to eat. You are much improved with the fork, stabbing at your food and bringing it to your mouth. But many times you just hold the utensil and eat the food with your other bare hand. Even cuter, sometimes you take a morsel of food, and PUT it ON the fork or spoon and then bring that to your mouth. (Good problem solver!)

Your opinions are getting stronger and sometimes you want something for no apparent reason except sheer, stubborn, inexpressible desire. My toothbrush for example. You have your own, but it is mine that you always want to carry around, stick in your mouth, drop on the floor, and take into the tub with you. I haven't the foggiest idea why my yellow toothbrush is so much more compelling than your yellow toothbrush, but this has been the cause of our biggest disagreement to date. I told your papa the story of the fit you threw after I took the thing away from you and tried to offer you your toothbrush as a consolation prize. "On the one hand," I said to him, "I really don't give a crap if he holds, mangles or 'ruins' my toothbrush. On the other hand, if he's gonna make such a big deal about it, I kind of feel like I have to show him that he doesn't get to make this decision." Papa looked at me and said a little too mischievously, "And that's the conversation you'll be having with yourself for the rest of your life..."

Several times this holiday season, we have taken you to parties or gatherings and put you to bed. When folks at the party inquire about you, we've paraded them in to see you sleeping. All comment on how perfect, adorable, and miraculous you are. We sheepishly agree and also admit that this is what we still do no less than 3 times a night: crowd around your crib (usually just the two of us) and whisper to you and each other how beautiful and great we think you are. So I hope someday you understand why sometimes we have to take the toothbrush and/or the phone away from you. Because like Kelly Mcgillis in Top Gun, we'd like to try to keep a modicum of objectivity in our reviews of your performance.

We love you to the moon and back,
Your mommies

Good tidings

Just had a really action-packed, gift-filled, kind of exhausting, amazing 40 hours.

Had to work until 3p on Christmas eve, traveled no less than 130 miles crisscrossing the state to get to various locals on Wednesday. At each stop, we had beautiful friends, a little nosh (food) and received more love and gifts than believable or necessary.

Today, was action packed from the 5:30 wake up call at my sister and BIL's house. We held the kids off until nana, papa, and grandma bella arrived, and then unwrapped for hours. Again, I would have been content with the food and the company, but was treated to a lot of good loot too.

Later, I tried several times to get JB to nap- unsuccessful. We sent Katy off to visit with our friends Adam and Kate (Adam is in the hospital in the Bronx). And got to round up the night with a visit with old peeps from the town of Midpoint (thanks for being such huge GSO fans and coming to see us after all your hours of travel today.

I feel very blessed...

And I am about to feel the cool sheets against my face and my arms wrapped tightly around my warm wife's body.

Comfort and Joy to all of you out there on the Internets.
And Merry Christmas!

Snow

We got our first big storm of '08-'09.

So far about 8 inches of fluffy soft snow. Went out with JB in full gear for a few minutes. He liked it about as much as he liked the beach this year - we think he's not that much into change or "new things." I shoveled for about an hour to try and get ahead of it. While I was out there, it snowed literally 2 inches (2" on the part of the driveway that I started with when I called it quits.) It's supposed to go until about 3am. It's a nice one- enough to cover everything and keep people home. It was nicer for me b/c I didn't have to commute.
Can't beat that.

I made cheese tonight. Queso blanco and whole milk ricotta. We went here and learned how. I can see making a lot of cheese if you have extra milk from the cows, but it's kind of labor intensive to just transform the milk into cheese when you can just buy the cheese the same place you buy the milk. That having been said, there's something also good about buying local milk and making cheese at home- not using up the gas and energy to refrigerate and transport it, knowing the ingredients and that it's not full of a bunch of stuff we don't need, making it with love in your heart and an intention to feed your family "real" food, and then serving it up for the week to your boo and your boo-boo.

Ear tubes

I'm home from work 'cause we didn't know how yesterday would go, so I took 2 days off.

It went pretty well.

We had to be at the hospital at 7am, but it is amazing how much easier is it to "pop" out of bed when it is for something other than work. JB woke up at 4am, but I rocked him back to sleep and by the time we had to wake him to get going, kt was already back from a DD run and Nana was here to help get him dressed.

When we arrived, the place was already packed and I remembered something I hadn't considered: Most kids who get surgery are not that healthy. Most of the kids in the waiting room had physical, mental, or emotional disabilities. There was an adorable boy with a trach that was making playful eyes at JB. You couldn't sit in this waiting room and not wallow in gratitude for all your blessings when your toe-head is toddling around, the picture of sweetness, health, and stereotypical perfection.

The staff at the Children's Hospital was fantastic. The kid hung in there, good-spirited for all the necessary "hanging around". They brought him an oxygen mask smeared in strawberry smelling stuff to play with- that would be the same mask that would deliver the gas that would put him to sleep. Katy elected me "parent that goes in the OR". I'm sure if she had wanted to go I would have let her, but truth be told, I was glad she wasn't interested. This part was harder than I imagined and that's why my wife is (simply put) smarter than me. She knows her limitations and is okay opting out of some things. I barely know what I can do, let alone have a grasp on what I can't (I'm constantly lying to myself and others: "I'll definitely be there by 10am..." Sound familiar to anyone out there?!?) Truth is, I like to be there for the really hard shit, I think it is part of my ICU training/hero complex. But I'm pretty sure watching my baby's screaming face through the mask, and the lolling of his eyes and head before he finally went limp was the reason I woke up every 20 minute in a panic last night. I have a history of processing stressful events (that have already been resolved) in dreams that I only occasionally remember. All through college, I would have nightmares about finals, weeks after the coursework was over and the textbooks were sold back.

Anyway, the staff prepared me sufficiently for the exact events described above (which occurred exactly as predicted). I left the OR at that point only because there was a staff member assigned to walk me out of there. If not, I'm sure I would have involuntarily knelt by his head, blocking the ENT's access.

They also warned us that he would wake up very upset- which he did- AND that after he napped again for a short time, he would wake up feeling himself (which also happened exactly as they predicted.) The staff warned us the bloody drainage would be leaking out of his ears for a few days. That is a little more disconcerting than I thought it would be.

The rest of the day, the kid was really sweet and loving... Laughing, smiling, playing, seeming to want to talk a lot. Until bed time when all of us were pretty exhausted and he had a melt down. He didn't appreciate the ear drops and tried to refuse tylenol (he is no match for the brute strength and resolve of two mommies, however.) He fell into a hard sleep on his back, while I held him on my chest. The tears had stopped but the tracked wet paths on his cheeks weren't yet dry. And the recently placed Otic Solution caused tiny streams of reconstituted blood to drip silently onto my shirt. I transferred him to his crib and when we checked him several hours later, he had not changed position. He slept until late in the AM (6:30 means sleeping in around here, folks.)

Other stories of note from the hospital:

1) The crazy fish of a mom who seemed way too into her cell phone to be bothered to notice her son was having surgery. Before his procedure, she refused to hold his ipod telling him, "I have my own stuff to carry." Though Nana reported to me in no uncertain terms that the mom was not carrying anything EXCEPT her cell phone. Then later in the recovery waiting room, when they came to tell her his procedure was completed, she held up her finger to the hospital staff as if to say, "wait a minute," and spoke loudly into the phone, "Well, I guess I have to go see what is going on, I'll call you back."
Sweet. Really.

2) As I promised my friends, when the anesthesiologist asked, "do you have any questions?" I posed the only one that mattered to me, "You're sober right?" Contrary to public opinion, I wasn't merely being a wise ass. I'm in health care. I know these people (not anesthesiologists, just health care workers in general) can not all be trusted. As I predicted, he dodged the question, not really laughing, but sort of looking annoyed which of course sort of annoyed me. I mean is there any reason why that question shouldn't be taken seriously? I'm not kidding. The nurse laughed and asked him, "Have you ever been asked that before?" and he said no and walked away, but if he had looked in my eyes I would have said, "Hey, I don't know you. You can't deny that's a valid question." I'm going to tell you this- when I worked in the hospital, if someone asked me that, I would have looked them in the eye and stated clearly. "Yes, I am glad to report I am sober." I think it's a valid question. The only reasons I can conjure not to answer it are ONE: you can't truthfully say 'yes', TWO: You think no one should ever question your integrity even if the life of their most beloved is about to be placed in your hands, or a possible THREE: you were drunk or high during a procedure once and you think someone has "found out."

Anyway, I think it's a valid question and I'm almost done perseverating on why he didn't' give me the respect or courtesy of an answer.

Already home!

For all that have been waiting anxiously for the news... JB did wonderfully this morning. He was a trooper and waited with us patiently for 90 minutes in the pre-op area, then came through the procedure beautifully. He was appropriately pissed when he woke up but we're home and he has eaten a meal, taken a short nap, and now getting ready for his regular afternoon snooze.

Thanks for all the thoughts and prayers!

Send for the dental records

JB comes home today with a note that says he got "hurt" when he reached for his cup and "one of my friends bit me". They call it a boo-boo report.

What are you going to do?

The good part is that I think I will be able to id the kid b/c not many of them have 4 on top and 4 on the bottom. It's like a perfect imprint. And judging from the marks, the kid has a perfect smile. Nice spacing of teeth, all really straight, impressive really...

For the good news, we've finally had a little reprieve from the tiny dictator... He has spent the last 3 meals with us smiling and laughing. It's a welcome change of pace.

All things merge into one, and a tantrum runs through it

Life here is pretty upsetting right now.

The thing that amazes me is not the amount of wailing and snottiness, but rather what and when he chooses to truly shit a brick about. So like, for example, if you are feeding him or offering him organically grown and lovingly cooked fresh food cut into tiny, graspable parcels at meal time... he's likely to yap, shout, and bang his head all around the high chair until you're not sure what to do.

If you have just taken him out of a warm bath and are trying to lotion him up and pour him into some of the softest cotton fabrics every created... look out, 'cause he might spring a backward arching, head-throw-back maneuver that will launch him off the changing table.

It's been 3 consecutive meals of crying and yelling, and I haven't been able to change a diaper or outfit without a meltdown in days... Katy and I don't know how much more we can take...

Wait until he sees us start to fall apart.

I think JB's been reading the blog

I've re-read the last few posts, and it's all fa-la-la and praise for our young son.
But last week, was different. I've heard more screaming and seen more tears drip out of his eyes in the last week than any other week to date (amounts are estimated.)
He either knows he's about to have surgery, or he's been reading the kind words I've written about the positive impact his existence has had on mine (and he's playing it for all it is worth.)

Telephone call from a friend with young children...
Her: How's JB?
Me: Well, he's good. He was doing great last week. But this week, he's being kind of an asshole.
Her: Yeah, sometimes they can be total dicks.

I appreciate having good friends. Most women won't engage me when I start conversations like that. They get freaked out. But fishes, please...* I don't blame him for acting out, but let's tell it like it is. I can empathize with the sharp molars growing out of your gums, but if this is going to be the excuse for bad behavior for the next 2 years, then we better come to some sort of agreement b/c you don't see your mommies falling to pieces every time we shed out uterine linings.

The kid is just having a shitty week. I understand. But it is hard on everyone. Believe me, I am feeling his pain. On Friday, JB bit Cameron at day care. When Kt and I heard about it, we went through all the stages of grief: shock, denial, pain, guilt, anger, bargaining, reflection, acceptance, hope. It might have been simpler had it not been Cameron that he bit... twice. If some other jackass had bit CamCam, I would have gone all Rebecca-Demornay-on-the-playground, but when it was JB, I was torn. "WHY WEREN'T THEY WATCHING HIM MORE CLOSELY?" Katy and I asked one another. (Avoidance)

The kid hasn't been a biter. One time he bit my finger and I gave it back to him to try to explain that he could have it in his mouth but not bite it. When he bit me a 2nd and 3rd time, Katy reprimanded me for teasing him. She thought it was like taunting a dog with a steak that he never gets. "If you don't want him to bite you, don't put your finger near his mouth," she mandated, complaining that I was setting him up to fail. I was only trying to teach him something worthwhile: Big effing deal if you're never exposed to fingers and don't bite!!! It's like memorizing the multiplication tables for 2 and 5, but no one teaching you shit about 3, 4, 7, 8, or 9. It's my job to make sure he's as good on the 7's as he is on the 5's, and if he feels a little bad about himself in the process, that's part of the tragedy of living my little pup!

JB went to bed on Friday night at a holiday party we were attending. It didn't seem weird that it took about 3 times longer than usual to get him down, he's pretty social and I just assumed that he didn't want to be cut out of the festivities. When we got home (had to drive separate cars to and from because of our starting points) Katy informed me that he had screamed the whole way home. Uh-oh. That's not like the little dude.

So, combined- between his bed and ours- he slept about 148 minutes between midnight and 6 am today. Just crying and yelling, shouting and whimpering all night.
It. was. awesome.
I had to assume that CamCam had strung together a curse with her ever-expanding vocabulary, but with the sunlight, came a ton of drool and 2 new teeth are racing to see which cuts through first.

It is much harder with this much crying and grumpiness. I feel bad for him, but it does make a person more tired and less sure of the point when he seems so miserable. Hopefully he will turn a corner soon.

*Not sure if I've mentioned it here yet or not, but the wife and I have started to replace the word, "bitch" in our vocabulary with the word, "fish". This will hopefully keep our kid's mouth soap-free for a little while longer; though it is likely to make him seem a little retarded when he comes out with a pithy but nonsensical: "Why's this fish over here givin' me so much attitude?"

Sugar for dinner

I chose chocolate for dinner this evening.

It is well known among my family and friends that left to my own devices, nothing more complex than candy and bread would ever provide sustenance for me if it weren't for my family and friends. Tracy has long been in charge of my food. Before that there was a 4 year snafoo (college). And before that my mom was head honcho.

Tonight JB and Tracy went to Nana's to get food and try and flush out an ear (M's, not JB's). So, I came home (bags of healthy groceries in hand mind you) and proceeded to eat chocolate for dinner. I also got stuck watching adorable videos of friends' kids from the West Coast. Needless to say, I haven't quite made it to the protein part of dinner. It's 7pm.

Tracy just called from the road, and for no reason was annoying the hell out of me. She knew it and I knew it but we were tolerating each other just fine. I kept missing what she was saying because there was an overwhelming and loud voice in my head saying GO GET THOSE EXTRA CHOCOLATES.

We hung up and not 2 seconds later the phone rang again. "Honey, what did you have for dinner?"

Ummmm... lie? probably not a good idea. She's like Santa: she KNOWS.

"Chocolate."

"Right. OK. Can you please go eat something else. Perhaps something with protein in it? Or at least, PLEASE, a more complex carbohydrate?"

I was going to, I swear. But then I thought it would be more interesting to post this story. I think maybe the chocolate covered peanuts next. It's protein, right?

Baby look-a-likes

I finally got the old picture of Tracy scanned in; tell me they're not twins (though Jake does need to work on the hair...).

1974:



2008:

Simply the best

My birthday present last June was tickets to last night's Tina Turner concert.

Katy took me out to eat (accompanied by Connecticut's most popular and widely-read music critic and his lady-friend... She's gonna love that that's her title.) We had a wonderful meal. We opted out of stealing the bread bucket that we liked from the restaurant and then we hit the XL (Don't ask me who owns the civic center now) for some ass-kickin' music.

I love Tina Turner. She rocks the world and she is the real reason I want to get to know Oprah better. B/c I think Oprah can put me in touch with Tina. The concert did not disappoint. There were some noticeable breaks and a 30 minute intermission where we envisioned the 69 year old icon hooked up to a little oxygen and perhaps IV hydration with some PT massaging her limbs backstage. Katy and I both woke up sore from the clapping, screaming, and dancing around we did in our seats (they were GREAT seats btw) so we can only imagine how fit this lady is to put forth the show she did.

As we were listening, cheering, smiling, enjoying the diversity in the audience, laughing that some of our peeps coincidentally had tickets only a few rows away in the same section, it was a celebration of the most pure variety. At some point, katy turned to me, grabbed my hand and said with a squeeze, "I have a great life." I agreed: "me too."

This past week has been a little of a time warp for me. The work week flew by, but my life outside of work seemed to be infinitely full of not-so-mundane events. My mind is never really away from our friend Adam who is hospitalized in a wreck of a (reversible but) devastating and terrifying diagnosis. Our friend IBO who is maybe pregnant again but nervous about what happened last time and in a good amount of physical discomfort. Our friends in Brooklyn who are waiting for their twins to gestate fully and will now be waiting on "bed rest" for the next 8 to 10 or 12 weeks or so. My friend LCD who's been trying to coordinate emergency care for her father in law. Then there's KK, whose mom started her first round of chemo... should I go on?

At 32 Our Street, JB this week has seemed to blossom yet again, somehow increasing his sweetness, his understanding of things, and his ability to interact with the world. He is a joy. He has an ever growing sense of humor. He is getting physically stronger and more coordinated.

I think there is an older version of me that would have perseverated on some of the difficult things our friends are going through right now as compared to our life right now, and tended toward the, "some bullshit is bound to ruin everything" state of numbness: Fear of the other shoe dropping, a dash of guilt, and a general discomfort about living in such a degree of contented happiness. I feel encased in and embalmed with gratitude and a kind of warm empathy. I do not feel outside of the difficult times that my friends are going through. Though we are not in their shoes, we feel sad and worried and stressed a little with them. But our friends are also the type that weave their blessings and gratitude into their woes. And I am somehow with them, sending positive energy without "steeling myself" or making it about my anxieties and powerlessness.

Katy and I and our friends are statistically (literally) some of the luckiest people to ever crawl the earth. Considering the nation, the wealth, the opportunities, education, and experiences that we have been exposed to, from a broad view it is hard to imagine what there is to not be blissed out about... But at the same time, we (and our friends) are no strangers to tragedy either.

Last night, beaming, I looked around the arena and realized that the last time I saw Jennifer P was in that room. Her husband, kind of lost to us now, is facing another Christmas without her or their kids. I stayed there with her, but pushed us both out of that "last time" and back into the joy and the driving pulse of a Tina Turner concert. It was not as much to deny sorrow as to bring her memory into a place that is about life and not about death. That is about Joy and not about grief. That is about living in the peace of a moment not the anxiety of the past or the future.

There was a lot of talk this fall about Hope. In my opinion, the word got knocked around a little, and walked away with yellowing bully-bruises and the caked on mud of mockery. I can't help but feel, though, that a climate of hope is what gets people through not only difficult times but happy, peaceful times too. Hope as a premise works in any season. The promise that things will change means that luck will run out, but luck will blossom again too. Time might appear as your enemy and then will rescue you out of the deepest hole; a gift for healing or rest or adventure. The musculature of hope is love and friendship that will hold you up when you can't stand (or feel your legs.) Hope exists in the web of community that is built not only when you offer to help but more substantially when you find yourself brave enough to ask for it.

Tina Turner is an icon not exclusively for her talents or powerful vocal presence, but her lasting power. Also, the humanity and personal frailty that she chose to share with the world and her fans... Her guts. Everyone's got at least a little of that inside of them, and sometimes you need some appropriate music to help drive it out.

Thanks for the wonderful night, baby. ily.

Gobble Gobble - part deux

Here are some pics from Thanksgiving:



Ray, kt, and bill in the great room



Mac and Aunt Susan (Mac's playing with a defunct phone, pretending to take a picture of me taking a picture.)

The carving crew: Gram, Big Ern, and Papa









Turkey dinner at the kids' table





Taking some lessons from Uncle Bill



FOUR!!!



Do my new gloves make me look like a lobster?

Well, do they?!?

First Haircut

Yesterday, before the meltdown... we took the boy to get sheared.

He did so well:














BEFORE:



AFTER: