Sunday, November 22, 2009
Shutting the door to San Francisco
So, bye. First few seconds of movie are weird. Gets better after that.
Monday, September 21, 2009
L'shanah Tovah
Ben and I composed this "drash" and I shared it in Rosh Hashonah services at Beyt Tikkun on Saturday. What a milestone for us a family and an honor to be asked to speak. Last year at this time, the congregation danced and sang their way around us, to welcome and bless our then weeks old Asher. I could barely form a sentence then, the smile inside me radiating out. Feeling so deeply with hardly a word to match.
What a difference a year makes. This year, we reckon with the possibility and challenge of parenting and of being whole and generous in the bigger world. This is the work of a lifetime, to be sure.
May all of us know love and peace in this new year. L'shanah tovah!
******
It is one of those lines we all know from old Westerns – “There ain’t room in this town for both of us….” Swinging bar doors, barren dusty towns, rolling cottonwood , cowboy boots and silver pistols. But, more than these icons of the pioneering Western spirit, this line reflected the attitude of an era – We can’t both succeed here. There isn’t enough. One of us has got to go. And that one is not me. Its you. Its not us. Its them.
Why does Sarah order Hagar and Ismael be banished? It was Sarah who had encouraged Abraham to impregnate Hagar, to father Ishmael, when she thought she couldn’t have a child of her own. At that moment, Hagar and Ishmael were included in Sarah’s us.
No more. Sarah orders Abraham to send Hagar off into the wilderness with only a parcel of water and her son on her back, and, G-d permits it, tells Abraham to honor her will.
Why would the miraculous conception of Isaac, a joyful reminder of the fertility and generosity of the universe, become a catalyst for Sarah’s stinginess. Sarah looked around, and like the dueling cowboy, saw the town had shrunk. Hagar was a threat, a threat to Isaac’s place in line to lead and therefore, a threat to the Jewish people. Hagar was now the “other,” less than the people in Us, and her destiny was her concern.
Why is this story told on Rosh Hashanah, the New Year? Why is this joyful day marred by a parsha of such stinginess, contraction and ill will? Why couldn’t the birth of Isaac have been a happy story, inspiring generosity in Sarah the way the universe was generous with her?
We don’t do banishment anymore, but how often, in a moment of recognition, or in the glow of achieving a long sought goal, why do we so easily believe there isn’t enough to go around anymore? Why does expansiveness inspire us to relegate other people to simply other, even to a kind of non-human status? It is Banishment 2.0 – our modern shared ,open-source version of an ancient practice.
On this Rosh Hashonah, as we reflect on who we are, individually and as a people, it isn’t hard to find examples of people rendered “other.” Banished. In Israel, of course. In torture chambers. Within the reach of a vest packed with explosives. In bad business deals. In stony and silent marriages. Plans broken. Commitments unfulfilled. When we shake our heads in wonder at how Sarah could do these things to Hagar and Ishmael, and ask why she didn’t feel their pain, we also know we don’t have to look very far for an answer. All of those examples out there, while the urge to estrange originates inside of us. Here.
There was a miracle in our lives this year – this past year, Ben and I gave birth to our first son, Asher . Many of you who were here last year danced and sang his blessing and welcome. Thank you. He was just weeks old then. He has now celebrated his first birthday and, as his name would suggest, he is a blessing to us every day. Asher. So, we got our miracle, right? I wasn’t quite nearing 100, but 40 isn’t exactly 20. I’m sure every parent feels their own child’s birth is a miracle. Sarah’s story challenged me: who have I banished?
Where have I let my own desire to protect this little boy become a suspicion that there just isn’t enough for us, so you, you’ll have to go without. Where have I put a wall up around this new capacity to feel, to love so deeply? Where have I lost faith that there will be enough for my family, if I am generous with all those children out in the wilderness? Where have you, like Sarah, outstretched your arm, pointing Hagar’s way out of town
I am also reflecting on this G-d – this G-d I choose to believe in and how she could allow Hagar and Ismael to be exiled, swiftly sent to what appeared to be their deaths. And, yet, they didn’t die. They WERE provided for. G-d heard the boy’s cry and a well appeared. The failure of generosity and of empathy was Sarah’s. It is not the way things are.
It isn’t always true. Plenty of people die in deserts every year. In times like ours, who isn’t worried about an economy in turmoil, war, deep uncertainty? I’m not naïve. But the lesson of this parsha, for me, today, is that the world is generous when we act generously. When we live simply and passionately, and have the faith to cry out -as Ismael did-when we need help, then we are not leaving it to G-d, we hold G-d as our partner.
I have begun to pray more this year, to seek to control less and to listen more. Boy, do I have a long way to go. And, still I aspire , on this Shabbat and through this new year, that we may count faith as our ally when we despair and generosity as our practice when we are most convinced there is not enough.
Because, like our G-d and her reflection in Sarah, I am flawed. I do not and will not always have faith that things are going to work out, I will stray from my commitments, from my deepest beliefs. I will not always be generous with my neighbor or even my husband when I feel like I am not getting something I need. There are certainly a LOT of examples of this behavior. But, as we do each year at this time, I can cast off fears and habits of mind and spirit I no longer need, and I can embrace, as if for the first time, a new way. I can walk into town and say “Welcome. May we all be successful and peaceful and happy here. Welcome. This place is for ALL of US.”
L’shana tovah Umetukah
What a difference a year makes. This year, we reckon with the possibility and challenge of parenting and of being whole and generous in the bigger world. This is the work of a lifetime, to be sure.
May all of us know love and peace in this new year. L'shanah tovah!
******
It is one of those lines we all know from old Westerns – “There ain’t room in this town for both of us….” Swinging bar doors, barren dusty towns, rolling cottonwood , cowboy boots and silver pistols. But, more than these icons of the pioneering Western spirit, this line reflected the attitude of an era – We can’t both succeed here. There isn’t enough. One of us has got to go. And that one is not me. Its you. Its not us. Its them.
Why does Sarah order Hagar and Ismael be banished? It was Sarah who had encouraged Abraham to impregnate Hagar, to father Ishmael, when she thought she couldn’t have a child of her own. At that moment, Hagar and Ishmael were included in Sarah’s us.
No more. Sarah orders Abraham to send Hagar off into the wilderness with only a parcel of water and her son on her back, and, G-d permits it, tells Abraham to honor her will.
Why would the miraculous conception of Isaac, a joyful reminder of the fertility and generosity of the universe, become a catalyst for Sarah’s stinginess. Sarah looked around, and like the dueling cowboy, saw the town had shrunk. Hagar was a threat, a threat to Isaac’s place in line to lead and therefore, a threat to the Jewish people. Hagar was now the “other,” less than the people in Us, and her destiny was her concern.
Why is this story told on Rosh Hashanah, the New Year? Why is this joyful day marred by a parsha of such stinginess, contraction and ill will? Why couldn’t the birth of Isaac have been a happy story, inspiring generosity in Sarah the way the universe was generous with her?
We don’t do banishment anymore, but how often, in a moment of recognition, or in the glow of achieving a long sought goal, why do we so easily believe there isn’t enough to go around anymore? Why does expansiveness inspire us to relegate other people to simply other, even to a kind of non-human status? It is Banishment 2.0 – our modern shared ,open-source version of an ancient practice.
On this Rosh Hashonah, as we reflect on who we are, individually and as a people, it isn’t hard to find examples of people rendered “other.” Banished. In Israel, of course. In torture chambers. Within the reach of a vest packed with explosives. In bad business deals. In stony and silent marriages. Plans broken. Commitments unfulfilled. When we shake our heads in wonder at how Sarah could do these things to Hagar and Ishmael, and ask why she didn’t feel their pain, we also know we don’t have to look very far for an answer. All of those examples out there, while the urge to estrange originates inside of us. Here.
There was a miracle in our lives this year – this past year, Ben and I gave birth to our first son, Asher . Many of you who were here last year danced and sang his blessing and welcome. Thank you. He was just weeks old then. He has now celebrated his first birthday and, as his name would suggest, he is a blessing to us every day. Asher. So, we got our miracle, right? I wasn’t quite nearing 100, but 40 isn’t exactly 20. I’m sure every parent feels their own child’s birth is a miracle. Sarah’s story challenged me: who have I banished?
Where have I let my own desire to protect this little boy become a suspicion that there just isn’t enough for us, so you, you’ll have to go without. Where have I put a wall up around this new capacity to feel, to love so deeply? Where have I lost faith that there will be enough for my family, if I am generous with all those children out in the wilderness? Where have you, like Sarah, outstretched your arm, pointing Hagar’s way out of town
I am also reflecting on this G-d – this G-d I choose to believe in and how she could allow Hagar and Ismael to be exiled, swiftly sent to what appeared to be their deaths. And, yet, they didn’t die. They WERE provided for. G-d heard the boy’s cry and a well appeared. The failure of generosity and of empathy was Sarah’s. It is not the way things are.
It isn’t always true. Plenty of people die in deserts every year. In times like ours, who isn’t worried about an economy in turmoil, war, deep uncertainty? I’m not naïve. But the lesson of this parsha, for me, today, is that the world is generous when we act generously. When we live simply and passionately, and have the faith to cry out -as Ismael did-when we need help, then we are not leaving it to G-d, we hold G-d as our partner.
I have begun to pray more this year, to seek to control less and to listen more. Boy, do I have a long way to go. And, still I aspire , on this Shabbat and through this new year, that we may count faith as our ally when we despair and generosity as our practice when we are most convinced there is not enough.
Because, like our G-d and her reflection in Sarah, I am flawed. I do not and will not always have faith that things are going to work out, I will stray from my commitments, from my deepest beliefs. I will not always be generous with my neighbor or even my husband when I feel like I am not getting something I need. There are certainly a LOT of examples of this behavior. But, as we do each year at this time, I can cast off fears and habits of mind and spirit I no longer need, and I can embrace, as if for the first time, a new way. I can walk into town and say “Welcome. May we all be successful and peaceful and happy here. Welcome. This place is for ALL of US.”
L’shana tovah Umetukah
Friday, September 18, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
I dunno, I still don't see it
Mikaela says that we most look alike in mannerisms and facial expressions. I could believe that this would be true, since I don't really know what my face actually looks like out there to you all in the world, just a rough outline.
It reminds of this section of Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud
I see how Asher resembles me in spirit and attitude. In the way he devours the world. I'm thinking that I may have a clearer internal picture than external picture of myself. So I'll turn to the experts: all the people in the world who can see my face and Asher's face. What do you see?
Pictures taken by my lovely wife Mikaela at Echo Lake
You can't see his face here. I just love it.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Asher turns one
Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi. Hi-eeeeeee.
He never tires of saying it. Each time he gets a smile, a response, a moment of connection with someone who had been busy tying her shoes or looking to see if the bus was coming.
Even as we sat in the waiting room of the Urgent Care Clinic in Santa Rosa, his fever still rising and his irritation with each degree, he greeted each new patient coming in the door. "Hi-eeee" he called before crying again or squirming in discomfort. August 31. The eve of his first birthday and he had a 102 fever. We didn't want to take any chances and whisked him off to the Urgent Care in the Sonoma town where we were vacationing, arriving 16 minutes before they closed the doors. A year ago at this time, I was the one crying and squirming in discomfort - and I was definitely not stopping to greet anyone along the way.
A year.
A whole year had passed since I labored on Labor Day.
Here we were reminded of rule #1 of pregnancy and birth and everything thereafter - let go of expectation. His birthday would be the way his birthday would be -- with tears and doses of Motrin replacing giggles and sweet treats. Asher wouldn't let us forget the rule. Nor would he lead us to believe that one year meant sleeping through the night and relying on what had now fallen into a pretty regular schedule around naps and eating. Again, everything is temporary, Asher was letting us know. Keep getting used to it.
We returned from the Urgent Care several hours later, having learned that, yes, he did have a fever and that, no, there was no cause for alarm. Motrin and Tylenol would become our best friends for the next 48 hours. Exhausted, I nursed him to sleep at about 10 o' clock and Ben and I scoured Netflix for some comic escape. Say Anything was available to stream. Funny, nostalgic, and I was pretty sure I had never seen it. We were in. For 10 minutes. Until our little boy woke up for the first time that night. The remainder of his wake-ups, pretty much every hour, would be beside me in bed. So sweet. So rough on him. So like the early days when I just stared at him sleeping, and rejected sleep myself. And not like that too --- now, he thrashes and pulls and pinches and slams a whole lot more than he did at 2 days old. That, and I just wanted to feel his forehead and have it not feel so hot to the touch as his body worked to fight off this infection.
Still, his birthday was filled with some Asher smiles and a special birthday treat (photos and video to follow -- thanks to Ben and Nannie!) and the wonderful gifts of his grandparents and great grandmother and doting aunties. We sat him down in his throne (read: highchair) to open his gifts (read: watch us open them and play with the boxes). All a birthday "should" be - especially when the only people who are really celebrating it are not the ones who were born on that day. He would now have a story to tell - probably just about the only thing he would remember later from all his parents' retelling over the years.
Nearly four days later and today is the first day he is really showing signs of feeling himself again -- he ate a whole banana at lunch, tried to squirm off the diaper table, babbled his way from building block (Thanks Aunt Viviane!) to power cord to the broiler - looking up at me with knowing wide eyes as he attempted to open it - again and again and again.
And, of course, "Hi-eee." He already made more new friends on a neighborhood trip to our local rec center this morning.
One year later. Happy birthday little boy! We are all glad you feel better.
PS -- Thanks to all of you who expressed concern after seeing Ben's Facebook post. He lives inside of so much love.
He never tires of saying it. Each time he gets a smile, a response, a moment of connection with someone who had been busy tying her shoes or looking to see if the bus was coming.
Even as we sat in the waiting room of the Urgent Care Clinic in Santa Rosa, his fever still rising and his irritation with each degree, he greeted each new patient coming in the door. "Hi-eeee" he called before crying again or squirming in discomfort. August 31. The eve of his first birthday and he had a 102 fever. We didn't want to take any chances and whisked him off to the Urgent Care in the Sonoma town where we were vacationing, arriving 16 minutes before they closed the doors. A year ago at this time, I was the one crying and squirming in discomfort - and I was definitely not stopping to greet anyone along the way.
A year.
A whole year had passed since I labored on Labor Day.
Here we were reminded of rule #1 of pregnancy and birth and everything thereafter - let go of expectation. His birthday would be the way his birthday would be -- with tears and doses of Motrin replacing giggles and sweet treats. Asher wouldn't let us forget the rule. Nor would he lead us to believe that one year meant sleeping through the night and relying on what had now fallen into a pretty regular schedule around naps and eating. Again, everything is temporary, Asher was letting us know. Keep getting used to it.
We returned from the Urgent Care several hours later, having learned that, yes, he did have a fever and that, no, there was no cause for alarm. Motrin and Tylenol would become our best friends for the next 48 hours. Exhausted, I nursed him to sleep at about 10 o' clock and Ben and I scoured Netflix for some comic escape. Say Anything was available to stream. Funny, nostalgic, and I was pretty sure I had never seen it. We were in. For 10 minutes. Until our little boy woke up for the first time that night. The remainder of his wake-ups, pretty much every hour, would be beside me in bed. So sweet. So rough on him. So like the early days when I just stared at him sleeping, and rejected sleep myself. And not like that too --- now, he thrashes and pulls and pinches and slams a whole lot more than he did at 2 days old. That, and I just wanted to feel his forehead and have it not feel so hot to the touch as his body worked to fight off this infection.
Still, his birthday was filled with some Asher smiles and a special birthday treat (photos and video to follow -- thanks to Ben and Nannie!) and the wonderful gifts of his grandparents and great grandmother and doting aunties. We sat him down in his throne (read: highchair) to open his gifts (read: watch us open them and play with the boxes). All a birthday "should" be - especially when the only people who are really celebrating it are not the ones who were born on that day. He would now have a story to tell - probably just about the only thing he would remember later from all his parents' retelling over the years.
Nearly four days later and today is the first day he is really showing signs of feeling himself again -- he ate a whole banana at lunch, tried to squirm off the diaper table, babbled his way from building block (Thanks Aunt Viviane!) to power cord to the broiler - looking up at me with knowing wide eyes as he attempted to open it - again and again and again.
And, of course, "Hi-eee." He already made more new friends on a neighborhood trip to our local rec center this morning.
One year later. Happy birthday little boy! We are all glad you feel better.
PS -- Thanks to all of you who expressed concern after seeing Ben's Facebook post. He lives inside of so much love.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Surprise!
Surprise. It isn't being surprised about something specific really. It is just that pretty much everything is surprising, Filled with wonder and awe. Asher studies faces and the pages of books, looking not for new knowledge, but for how they respond to him, what they have to give. Then, he crawls furiously to find the next challenge. Surprise isn't found in one place.
Asher's first visit to Nannie and Pop-Pop's
Asher loved the tile floor. Cars skid sideways across it. It feels cool to warm little feet. It is near the door. Simple tastes. Hope that lasts a while....
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Asher's New Skill
Asher has a neck. He can control it. Like all things he can control, he uses it mostly for fun.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Our Little Mischief Maker: Right on Schedule
From Your 11-month-old's development:
Your baby probably thinks it's fun to push, throw, and knock everything down. She'll give you a toy as well as take one, and she likes games where she can put things in containers and dump them out again. This works well with blocks in buckets or boxes and with pots and pans, which she can nest inside one another. She'll thrill to the loud sounds of those pots and pans banging together, too.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Apple Bag
When he cut his first teeth, the best way to soothe him was to fill these teething bags with a cold apple chunk
He sucked on it.
He chomped on it
And he even offered me some.
He sucked on it.
He chomped on it
And he even offered me some.
A Smile
He's saying a word. Mostly. We haven't officially declared anything yet. But it sounds like, and looks like as well, that he says "Hi."
And then he smiles at people like this.
Taken with the Canon 50mm 1.8
And then he smiles at people like this.
Taken with the Canon 50mm 1.8
Here's a Funny Story
But I'll let Mikaela tell it. Mik?
Hee hee.
Mikaela Writes:
It was one of my early visits to Chloe’s Closet, a kids’ consignment shop in the Bernal Heights neighborhood of SF. Bernal is one of the places we would live if we were going to be rooting here – filled with kids and conscious parents, but not precious and stroller-upping; hip, but not SO hipster; a main street boasting a great market, yoga studio, and a few good coffee shops. What I have learned to be the California essentials. Anyway, I was there on this morning a few months with Asher looking for a few new duds for him since the hand-me-down train had stopped coming to our door.
“I love my Moms.” I saw this shirt and it jumped out at me. I saw “Moms” as me. You know, like “Pops.” So wanting to bring a little more urban into our decidedly West Coast slowed down life. Moms. Pops. I didn’t think of Moms as two of them, two of them raising their son --- two women who become two mommies. Yes, I do live in San Francisco in the age of Prop 8 and somehow, that just didn’t occur to me. Ben and Lacy and everyone else who we have told (including you I would bet now) finds that hysterically funny. Ok, so it was.
So, in this photo you see Lacy, our nanny, who also worked on the No to Prop 8 campaign in California - before taking on the very different challenge of caring for two under-one year-olds (soon to be two over one-year olds!) Lacy took Asher and his mate Benji down to a Prop 8 rally in his “Moms” shirt with her friend Brenna who pretended to be her partner and Asher’s other mommy. Benji apparently played the role of his brother. As the story goes, several photojournalists snapped some shots. We have no idea if they ever ran.
Hee hee.
Mikaela Writes:
It was one of my early visits to Chloe’s Closet, a kids’ consignment shop in the Bernal Heights neighborhood of SF. Bernal is one of the places we would live if we were going to be rooting here – filled with kids and conscious parents, but not precious and stroller-upping; hip, but not SO hipster; a main street boasting a great market, yoga studio, and a few good coffee shops. What I have learned to be the California essentials. Anyway, I was there on this morning a few months with Asher looking for a few new duds for him since the hand-me-down train had stopped coming to our door.
“I love my Moms.” I saw this shirt and it jumped out at me. I saw “Moms” as me. You know, like “Pops.” So wanting to bring a little more urban into our decidedly West Coast slowed down life. Moms. Pops. I didn’t think of Moms as two of them, two of them raising their son --- two women who become two mommies. Yes, I do live in San Francisco in the age of Prop 8 and somehow, that just didn’t occur to me. Ben and Lacy and everyone else who we have told (including you I would bet now) finds that hysterically funny. Ok, so it was.
So, in this photo you see Lacy, our nanny, who also worked on the No to Prop 8 campaign in California - before taking on the very different challenge of caring for two under-one year-olds (soon to be two over one-year olds!) Lacy took Asher and his mate Benji down to a Prop 8 rally in his “Moms” shirt with her friend Brenna who pretended to be her partner and Asher’s other mommy. Benji apparently played the role of his brother. As the story goes, several photojournalists snapped some shots. We have no idea if they ever ran.
In case you were curious, this is Ben as a baby
So the blonde hair does get a fair bit of questioning. This is a picture of Asher sucking on a mirror. Mikaela said it looks like he is holding a wig in his teeth, before she saw the mirror.
People ask, well more suggest hopefully, that the explanation might be that I too had blonde hair as a child.
Nope. Not so much. He is also significantly cuter than I was. Or am for that matter.
People ask, well more suggest hopefully, that the explanation might be that I too had blonde hair as a child.
Nope. Not so much. He is also significantly cuter than I was. Or am for that matter.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Attytood
Asher has been in Philadelphia and the heat and doting attention seems to be doing him a bit of god. I mean good. See Promethean referencing picture here :
The heat doesn't change everything if course viz this picture
by which I mean dinner time is often also screaming time
I think he looks a bit like Klaus Kinski in this.
The heat doesn't change everything if course viz this picture
by which I mean dinner time is often also screaming time
I think he looks a bit like Klaus Kinski in this.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Father's Day @ the Goat Farm
For my very first father's day we went to an all organic goat farm in Pescadero on the coast, something my wife rightly identified as "Neat, but probably something I never thought I would be doing on Father's Day."
We met up with some friends there, who also have little ones.
As for the goats, we marveled at their... friendliness. One in particular followed Mikaela around and rubbed her head on Mikaela's bottom.
Asher enjoyed pulling on their ears and fur...
And while he showed a real appreciation for the fresh ricotta and feta, he did not like the hair nets one bit.
The complete photo set is here
Monday, April 27, 2009
Mmmm... mmmmm Sweet Potatoes!
OrangeLiquid
Originally uploaded by ben_temchine
He's eating solids. Distracts easily and is not a stickler, but he's eating.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
My Boy Leaves Me Speechless
This picture was taken at my brother Michael's amazing wedding.
It leaves me speechless.
It leaves me speechless.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Locomotion
It is hard to explain how much has changed for the little boychick. It is hard to fathom it.
I mean, for a start, look at this face:
This hasn't changed. The laughing.
He can't crawl yet. But soon. Very soon. He will flip his legs up to vertical while lying on his back, then drop them to one side or the other and pop up on all fours. It is his most elegant move. This is a lousy picture, but the best I have right now.
The rest of the time he is focused, always moving and wildly inefficient. He traces out spiraling loops over carpet and wooden floors to reach his goal. Something chewable. A wooden ring. A stuffed bug with crinkly ears and a dozen bright dangling legs.
He will swing wide past it and turn obliquely to his counter-clockwise and lurch a few feet at a tangent to the previous circle and then back up on all fours to survey the progress. Such as it is. But if you turn around for a moment, to finish typing something, in a few seconds he mysteriously closes the gap, like a knight on a chessboard. Clip clop and he's on top of it.
I had to sit him up, but he'll stay there on his own, chewing. This isn't exactly going to win him a Macarthur Award. But looking back and seeing him like this
And only six months ago is breath taking
I mean, for a start, look at this face:
This hasn't changed. The laughing.
He can't crawl yet. But soon. Very soon. He will flip his legs up to vertical while lying on his back, then drop them to one side or the other and pop up on all fours. It is his most elegant move. This is a lousy picture, but the best I have right now.
The rest of the time he is focused, always moving and wildly inefficient. He traces out spiraling loops over carpet and wooden floors to reach his goal. Something chewable. A wooden ring. A stuffed bug with crinkly ears and a dozen bright dangling legs.
He will swing wide past it and turn obliquely to his counter-clockwise and lurch a few feet at a tangent to the previous circle and then back up on all fours to survey the progress. Such as it is. But if you turn around for a moment, to finish typing something, in a few seconds he mysteriously closes the gap, like a knight on a chessboard. Clip clop and he's on top of it.
I had to sit him up, but he'll stay there on his own, chewing. This isn't exactly going to win him a Macarthur Award. But looking back and seeing him like this
And only six months ago is breath taking
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
February Update
The fantastic news is that he sleeps so well now (not jinxing anything i hope)we only get up twice a night to feed him and he regularly makes it to 6:30 am before waking. Hallelujah.
The change since we were back east has been dramatic. He is a fat, happy ball of smiling bouncing wriggling joy.
His hair is darkening a little, but still blond and his eyes are still a clear and bright blue. he is strong now, sitting up on his own once or twice and holding himself up in a push up. He is a champion bouncer as well. I'll post a mesmerizing video in the next day or two.
In the past week he has made a noticeable step towards talking. He has always babbled a great deal, but this week i feel like he discovered a world of consonants, k and p and b and g and he has started stringing vowels and consonants together.
It doesn't amount to anything sensible, but i can hear a voice there now. I have been looking at pictures from a few months ago and I feel like he is already many iterations separated from those first days. As are Mikaela and I.
It was great to see Papi out here. He is doing an admirable job resisting the desire to spoil the boy. Watching him read hand hand fingers thumb to Asher was beautiful.
Peace to you all. See you in a few weeks!
Ben
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Is that you Ms. Mona?
Mona came to California this past weekend. She met Asher. They fell in love. Sweet.
Thanks Mona for sharing his 5 month birthday with us. Come again soon!
Thanks Mona for sharing his 5 month birthday with us. Come again soon!
Monday, February 2, 2009
And a Mysterious One
I don't know quite what to make of this picture of Asher. Sometimes, I will look down at him and the quizzical look on his face, as if he were deeply questioning the base assumptions of my life. It is jarring to see it captured in a photograph.
So does it have that effect on you? His sounds are absent. His tiny muscular body pulling up and back and away, his eyes roving the room aren't in that picture. The night before when I sat in the dark while his howl transformed into keening doesn't come with the photo glowing on the screen in front of me. I brought it with me. The picture is like a key to the chest I keep it in. Click and open it pops.
As you peer into those not so tiny eyes peering up at you, does it grab you like it grabs me?
So does it have that effect on you? His sounds are absent. His tiny muscular body pulling up and back and away, his eyes roving the room aren't in that picture. The night before when I sat in the dark while his howl transformed into keening doesn't come with the photo glowing on the screen in front of me. I brought it with me. The picture is like a key to the chest I keep it in. Click and open it pops.
As you peer into those not so tiny eyes peering up at you, does it grab you like it grabs me?
From Lacy
Asher goes several days a week to his nanny share with Benji Hendlish. The nanny is the imperturbable Lacy. These pictures are from her.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Listening to him cry
It is so hard for our boy to fall asleep.
The Masons would admire the pre-sleep ceremony put on by Mama and I. The ablutions, the incantatory recitation of "Hand Hand Fingers Thumb", the bouncing, the delicate dance across the room towards the bassinet. The hope, the desperate silly hope that fate will smile on us and he will sleep...
The wails and rending of cloth when his eyes pop open the instant his head touches cloth.
Back to the ball once more. Bounce in the dark. Bounce in the whiteness of the rain on the roof, the fan, the air filter. Bounce a million miles from any other person, alone, you and him in the middle of a city where everyone else, every person, every baby, every dog and fish, even the toll collectors have drifted to sleep.
There is our little fighter, so tired, burning bright as a star in the center of a dark blue, slumbering universe . Just me and him, bouncing and bouncing away the night.
So here we are, on a sunday morning, and beneath two-black out sheets, the anti-cat net and the hopeful gaze of his mama, Asher screams.
Not the "I'm bored! Enterrrrtainnnnn meeee!" he's adopted at three and a half months. We're well beyond that now.
This is the screaming of a soul in pain. To my ears anyway. As I sit in the dark and night runs like honey on the kitchen table towards early, early morning.
"Is it the dark?" I wonder, bouncing away with my pinkie in his parched mouth, dry from the snap inhalations and rasping cries.
"Is it a hidden thorn in the feet of his footies? Is it the pain in his ears from the wailing he doesn't know comes from his own mouth? Does he see things I can't see anymore?"
What causes those arms to stay stiff and wave sleep away? Why is exhaustion the only pathway to sleep? Why little boy? Why?
The Masons would admire the pre-sleep ceremony put on by Mama and I. The ablutions, the incantatory recitation of "Hand Hand Fingers Thumb", the bouncing, the delicate dance across the room towards the bassinet. The hope, the desperate silly hope that fate will smile on us and he will sleep...
The wails and rending of cloth when his eyes pop open the instant his head touches cloth.
Back to the ball once more. Bounce in the dark. Bounce in the whiteness of the rain on the roof, the fan, the air filter. Bounce a million miles from any other person, alone, you and him in the middle of a city where everyone else, every person, every baby, every dog and fish, even the toll collectors have drifted to sleep.
There is our little fighter, so tired, burning bright as a star in the center of a dark blue, slumbering universe . Just me and him, bouncing and bouncing away the night.
Mikaela adds: "We went to a sleep class with a child sleep specialist. Its nice to know that there are other parents out there, like us, bouncing in the dark."
So here we are, on a sunday morning, and beneath two-black out sheets, the anti-cat net and the hopeful gaze of his mama, Asher screams.
Not the "I'm bored! Enterrrrtainnnnn meeee!" he's adopted at three and a half months. We're well beyond that now.
This is the screaming of a soul in pain. To my ears anyway. As I sit in the dark and night runs like honey on the kitchen table towards early, early morning.
"Is it the dark?" I wonder, bouncing away with my pinkie in his parched mouth, dry from the snap inhalations and rasping cries.
"Is it a hidden thorn in the feet of his footies? Is it the pain in his ears from the wailing he doesn't know comes from his own mouth? Does he see things I can't see anymore?"
What causes those arms to stay stiff and wave sleep away? Why is exhaustion the only pathway to sleep? Why little boy? Why?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Inauguration Day
Papa is moved by our new President's call for renewed citizenship. Asher, not so much.
Yet.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Piglet Pile Part Deux
We got our ducks in a row again. For a second time the San Francisco Grand National Sit-Off was held. Last month's silver medalist Mighty Milo Richtel had home field advantage for the second go round.
Kai "The Klassy Kalm" White was expected to repeat his championship performance, a devastating display of sitting for an extended period of time and staring at his hand. It set a high bar.
As expected Myles Marcus went out first. He is a boy with many gifts, but being propped on a couch piled high with babies and then staring out at two-dozen addled adults giggling like hyenas and snapping pictures on their iPhones, well this is not among them. Amazingly, Angela and Cooper are not too worried about that.
The infants continued to fall, left and right, down they went. At one point, so many kids were unable to go on, they were plucked off the couch nearly at random. Morgan ended up with Ajay; Kai ended up in the arms of this reporter. It took literally dozens of seconds to sort it all out.
As 3 minutes stretched to five, the parents began to drift off to the next entertainment. Except for four parents locked in the combat.
The surprise performance of infant sang froid came from Asher "No Nickname Comes to Mind" Temchine, who shocked his parents by sitting in the same place for three minutes without screaming like an air raid siren.
To no one's surprise, Milo continued to sit. As competitors fall away, so do words. How do you capture "The immutable One" when he is at his best? A rock? A bag of foam rubber? Maybe a sack of oranges?
But Asher stuck with him. As Milo slowly slumped, Asher stayed right there with him. All the way down.
In the end, it was a draw. As exciting as this may make it sound, it actually got kind of boring at the end there and I was really faking being excited. Yeah, I said it.
So we just scooped him up and got a cupcake.
Happy birthday Sarah!
In Response to a Query
I received an email from a pregnant friend with some excellent questions to be asking while pregnant and I thought I'd share my answers here.
Baby Bargains was excellent.
From Mikaela: There is a page in there with what you need for the first three months. It is a calm port in the storm of consumerism and worry. You don't even need a crib for the first three months, for example.
After a lot of hemming and hawing, we went with the Ikea Gulliver crib. Cheap, sturdy, up to European toxics standards and allowed the use of a standard mattress. of course we then had to get fancy and get an organic cotton futon made, and have been fighting with Matsu Futon (they suck but are nice bout it) since.
We went with a newcar set, the Graco snugride and bought bases for every car off Craigslist. I am pretty lackadaisical about giving advice on the baby stuff except for two topics: home births and used car seats. I am super pro-home birth as starting point and I vehemently oppose used car seats and used motorcycle helmets for the same reason. It is the EPS foam which protects the kid and the brain pan in a crash, and they are fragile materials, especially if they are abused. Or dropped. Or used to store bowling balls. None of which you know if it is used. Everything else… whatever! Have fun. Buy stuff with whatever option comes in fuzzy. That is my advice.
That sounds like us and we bought to bottles: an adiri bottle and a glass bottle with the neoprene cover. We like them both. The real trip is the amount of bottles you need for the pumping. Mikaela can give you a sense of numbers but it feels to me like a corner of the kitchen is given over to them.
Need a warmer? No. You can warm milk after you take it out of the fridge, and leave it out for several hours. We warmed a bottle once by putting it on the dashboard and turning up the defrost. Not a great success but Asher drink it. When I give him a bottle (admittedly not too frequently these days) I just put it in a bowl of hot water. I think Mikaela sterilizes everything by boiling it in a pot of water. Save the counter space for a cappuccino maker. That will definitely come in handy.
Just be prepared that whatever you buy, you’re kid will like the other thing. For a week. And then they won't anymore. Sigh. So don't get attached. I think the adiri and the glass are best options.
From Mikaela: As long as it is the "good" plastic, don't worry too much.
Pass. I don't know from nipple pad.
From Mikaela: The ones called soothies are like cooling and make you feel better. For the anti-leaking pads, I bought organic hemp ones. Don't use the disposables. Just make sure they're soft and machine washable. I think 6 to 8 pairs will cover you.
I know Mikaela prefers the one that is c-shaped, the Boppy, and doesn’t like the one that goes all the way around her back. It is called the My Breast Friend and really should be avoided for that reason alone.
Really key though: a glider. Hunt around for a used one though. They’re hella ugly but you’ll be spending time –a lot of time- sitting in it and not too much time staring at it in aesthetic judgment. It is a tool. A blue gingham covered tool.
From Mikaela: We didn't pay more for the reclining one (we got it for $50) but there are those who love them. Our friend Ailish spent the last month of pregnancy in hers.
What I love the most is the pilates ball. You will do a lot of baby bouncing. And either it will be your arms or your legs doing the bouncing
or it will be the ball. Let it be the ball.
From Mikaela: And this is nearly unanimous from parents we know, where everything else Ben is about to mention depends on what flavor of baby you get.
Key purchase: the vibrating bouncy chair. Hugely important for some babies, like my niece Olive. Asher wasn’t made a catatonic champion sleeper in the bouncy chair the way some kids are. But nothing does that for him really and the bouncy chair is reliable.
The bumbo’s are adorable when they get a little bigger.
The swing is worthy c-list purchase. I recommend getting the ones that swing side-to- side and then allow you to change the carrier’s direction so it swings front-to-back. Get the least offensively colored one you can find. NOTE: all baby stuff like this come with Fun Enforcers, garishly colored Chinese plastic protuberances festooned with just insane looking happy puppies, ducks and monkeys that blink, rattle, vibrate and bobble. I think they are horrible (except when I love them) and nearly all of them can be easily disconnected (and quickly re-connected when necessary)
Wrong there! We use our iPod as a white noise machine and I have collected or created a panoply of horrendously unnatural and grating noises that somehow make newborns stop mid-screaming fit and then fall asleep. I’ll burn you a few cds…
Miracle blankets and a five foot length of stretchy organic bamboo fabric to bind your kid like a burrito. It could. Very well. Save. Your. Life.
The digital baby monitors are pretty much the only way to go if you live with any babies within 6 miles. Otherwise they pick up every other screaming crying baby whose parents also bought the monitor on sale at Citikids Baby News (the awesomest name for a kid’s store in the world) I would recommend the painfully expensive Phillips DECT monitor but the talk-back button just broke. Not cool.
All the pacifiers he spit out immediately. G-Diapers. Do not buy any copies of Goodnight Moon. You will get four. Same with Curious George and Babar.
Happily, this doesn’t have to be true. You can become an open maw for every plastic piece of crap Babies R’Us can fit on their sales floor. We have actually bought very little and think of ourselves more as a section of pipe than a dumpster. We get stuff from other people and send it on to other people when we’re done. The really special favorite onesie might get pulled out for my brother (Nothing to declare, no news here, but someday, you know, who knows?) or us (see previous parenthetical) Everything else, from the swing to the bumbo to the glider is fully here today and gone gone gone the next. Stay out of Babies R’Us and never ever read parenting magazines, look at what your least consumingist friends have in their houses and wait to inherit it.
And sleep now. Man, should you ever sleep now!
And here is a picture of Asher:
I'm hoping to solicit some advice from you, as I am starting to get pressure from my family to hurry up and register for baby gifts. Cheryl, I bought that Baby Bargains book, which has be FANTASTIC helping me sort out things like cribs, car seats and strollers (though if you have words of wisdom on those topics, I'll still take them!)
Baby Bargains was excellent.
From Mikaela: There is a page in there with what you need for the first three months. It is a calm port in the storm of consumerism and worry. You don't even need a crib for the first three months, for example.
After a lot of hemming and hawing, we went with the Ikea Gulliver crib. Cheap, sturdy, up to European toxics standards and allowed the use of a standard mattress. of course we then had to get fancy and get an organic cotton futon made, and have been fighting with Matsu Futon (they suck but are nice bout it) since.
We went with a newcar set, the Graco snugride and bought bases for every car off Craigslist. I am pretty lackadaisical about giving advice on the baby stuff except for two topics: home births and used car seats. I am super pro-home birth as starting point and I vehemently oppose used car seats and used motorcycle helmets for the same reason. It is the EPS foam which protects the kid and the brain pan in a crash, and they are fragile materials, especially if they are abused. Or dropped. Or used to store bowling balls. None of which you know if it is used. Everything else… whatever! Have fun. Buy stuff with whatever option comes in fuzzy. That is my advice.
I'm still at a complete loss for other necessities. For example, how many bottles do I need if I plan on mostly breastfeeding for the first 6 months, but may pump so that someone else can feed the baby on occasion?
That sounds like us and we bought to bottles: an adiri bottle and a glass bottle with the neoprene cover. We like them both. The real trip is the amount of bottles you need for the pumping. Mikaela can give you a sense of numbers but it feels to me like a corner of the kitchen is given over to them.
Do I need warmers and sterilizers?
Need a warmer? No. You can warm milk after you take it out of the fridge, and leave it out for several hours. We warmed a bottle once by putting it on the dashboard and turning up the defrost. Not a great success but Asher drink it. When I give him a bottle (admittedly not too frequently these days) I just put it in a bowl of hot water. I think Mikaela sterilizes everything by boiling it in a pot of water. Save the counter space for a cappuccino maker. That will definitely come in handy.
Are there big differences between the different popular bottle brands? Glass vs. BPA free plastic?
Just be prepared that whatever you buy, you’re kid will like the other thing. For a week. And then they won't anymore. Sigh. So don't get attached. I think the adiri and the glass are best options.
From Mikaela: As long as it is the "good" plastic, don't worry too much.
How about those nipple pads? What kinds do people like and how many do you use in a day?
Pass. I don't know from nipple pad.
From Mikaela: The ones called soothies are like cooling and make you feel better. For the anti-leaking pads, I bought organic hemp ones. Don't use the disposables. Just make sure they're soft and machine washable. I think 6 to 8 pairs will cover you.
Boppy breastfeeding pillow versus that firmer one that goes around your whole body?
I know Mikaela prefers the one that is c-shaped, the Boppy, and doesn’t like the one that goes all the way around her back. It is called the My Breast Friend and really should be avoided for that reason alone.
Really key though: a glider. Hunt around for a used one though. They’re hella ugly but you’ll be spending time –a lot of time- sitting in it and not too much time staring at it in aesthetic judgment. It is a tool. A blue gingham covered tool.
From Mikaela: We didn't pay more for the reclining one (we got it for $50) but there are those who love them. Our friend Ailish spent the last month of pregnancy in hers.
And what other accessories have been really helpful to you? Like those little swingy chairs for newborns?
What I love the most is the pilates ball. You will do a lot of baby bouncing. And either it will be your arms or your legs doing the bouncing
or it will be the ball. Let it be the ball.
From Mikaela: And this is nearly unanimous from parents we know, where everything else Ben is about to mention depends on what flavor of baby you get.
Key purchase: the vibrating bouncy chair. Hugely important for some babies, like my niece Olive. Asher wasn’t made a catatonic champion sleeper in the bouncy chair the way some kids are. But nothing does that for him really and the bouncy chair is reliable.
The bumbo’s are adorable when they get a little bigger.
The swing is worthy c-list purchase. I recommend getting the ones that swing side-to- side and then allow you to change the carrier’s direction so it swings front-to-back. Get the least offensively colored one you can find. NOTE: all baby stuff like this come with Fun Enforcers, garishly colored Chinese plastic protuberances festooned with just insane looking happy puppies, ducks and monkeys that blink, rattle, vibrate and bobble. I think they are horrible (except when I love them) and nearly all of them can be easily disconnected (and quickly re-connected when necessary)
White noise machines, do they work? (we actually don't have a radio anymore thanks to iPod so we can't make our own)
Wrong there! We use our iPod as a white noise machine and I have collected or created a panoply of horrendously unnatural and grating noises that somehow make newborns stop mid-screaming fit and then fall asleep. I’ll burn you a few cds…
Anything unexpected you'd recommend?
Miracle blankets and a five foot length of stretchy organic bamboo fabric to bind your kid like a burrito. It could. Very well. Save. Your. Life.
The digital baby monitors are pretty much the only way to go if you live with any babies within 6 miles. Otherwise they pick up every other screaming crying baby whose parents also bought the monitor on sale at Citikids Baby News (the awesomest name for a kid’s store in the world) I would recommend the painfully expensive Phillips DECT monitor but the talk-back button just broke. Not cool.
Also, what turned out to be a waste of money?
All the pacifiers he spit out immediately. G-Diapers. Do not buy any copies of Goodnight Moon. You will get four. Same with Curious George and Babar.
I know you all are busy, and there's no huge rush, but if you have a moment and some good advice, I would be VERY grateful. I feel like I've entered a whole new realm of baby product hyper-consumption about which I know nothing! :)
Happily, this doesn’t have to be true. You can become an open maw for every plastic piece of crap Babies R’Us can fit on their sales floor. We have actually bought very little and think of ourselves more as a section of pipe than a dumpster. We get stuff from other people and send it on to other people when we’re done. The really special favorite onesie might get pulled out for my brother (Nothing to declare, no news here, but someday, you know, who knows?) or us (see previous parenthetical) Everything else, from the swing to the bumbo to the glider is fully here today and gone gone gone the next. Stay out of Babies R’Us and never ever read parenting magazines, look at what your least consumingist friends have in their houses and wait to inherit it.
And sleep now. Man, should you ever sleep now!
And here is a picture of Asher:
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