tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78729522189071787242024-02-07T12:42:08.274-08:00子持ち 気持ち (Komochi Kimochi)真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-5942096200116893102011-12-01T11:10:00.000-08:002011-12-01T11:12:27.389-08:00Shopping for ChristmasI found my favorite list ever:<br /><a href="http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2011/01/the-5-best-toys-of-all-time/all/1"></a><div><a href="http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2011/01/the-5-best-toys-of-all-time/all/1">http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2011/01/the-5-best-toys-of-all-time/all/1</a></div>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-48503406105037495852011-09-01T00:19:00.000-07:002011-09-01T10:26:03.158-07:00To My Son, on His First BirthdayDear Zenas, <div>
<br /></div><div>Happy Birthday, happiest birthday, to The One whom I can call by oh so many names. A flood of endearments that run the gamut of cliched, overused, obvious and inadequate--but all very heartfelt, because you are: my darling, my sweetness, my pride and joy; my little man, my big boy, my bundle of joy; the one person who can always put a smile on my face, who has made me laugh more than ever before; source of such goodness and pure delight; my handsome, my hunk of love; my Zizi, busy Z, Z forever...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The last year has been in parts a blur from the haze of underslept fogginess, marked by unforgettable bits of elation and countless privilege of sharing the every day with you. You changed my life forever and I don't mind. I can't wait to see the person you are becoming and at the same time I want to stop time because every milestone that you reach feels that much closer to the day when we will say good-bye in too many ways. I can barely stand to leave you at daycare for the nine hours I am away from you so I imagine it will be devastating on your first day of school, for your first overnight, at your graduation, or on your wedding day. I want you to outgrow me; I want nothing more than to one day see you almost as a stranger but someone I have the pleasure of knowing. But right now you are still my baby, my first, barely out of my body but already so changed that I have a hard time thinking you are the same pile of cooing blind, helpless gush, especially when I see you walking and talking. You express yourself so clearly and have such a mind of your own. You are willful and I have no doubt you will be powerful--Virgo Metal Tiger and all. But already you amaze people in how natural you are at loving: you act like a mayoral candidate at every social gathering, making the rounds. You love people, especially other kids, and will already stray from your parents not even looking back so that you can make some kind of contact with whomever strikes your fancy. It's not just me, other people tell me how you give the best hugs and the recent habit you have of randomly doling out love and tilting your head onto laps and shoulders is almost shameless. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Your father and I are cuckoo for you. Somehow it never gets old to tell each other how much we love you, when we spend all day saying to you the words, "I love you." We also tell you and each other how cute you are, maybe even more than how much we love you. In private, your father always asks--rhetorically, because he is already convinced--if you are indeed as exceptional and amazing as he thinks he is. I like to keep him in check: I don't think it's healthy to be blindly adoring--but I have to agree that I do think you are quite special and I am quite proud of you and all that you are. When you were born, I joked how we decided to keep you; well lately I'm hoping that you will want to keep us, now and forever.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>I don't think it's healthy to make you my everything so I never will. But please know I feel so lucky when I see your face. I feel that I belong to you. Just as you belong to me. That's an incredible completing feeling that erases all the fatigue and overwhelming parts of being a new parent. I don't want you any other way than exactly how you are. I want to thank you for being here and being who you are...and it's better than anything imaginable to get to know you.</div>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-79259887685353144862011-07-05T17:28:00.001-07:002011-07-05T18:14:35.485-07:00Back to WritingI've let my writing go idle far too long.<br />Not a coincidence that my last significant entry was just before I returned to work. In that turmoil of change and adjustment I found it too difficult to find the time and headspace to post updates. I had gotten too used to the luxury of thinking and laboring over my subject and fell prey to every writer's fear to put up too little substance--which is antithetical to this blog, which is not about my ego, but an opportunity to chronicle some of Z's first year so that I might share my experience with him throughout the different stages of his life. But when it serves as the only time to write, well it becomes too precious.<br /><br />This is why I don't like to let go -- of anything -- because letting go always means a bit of a loss, a hand empty of a tangible object, a life left with a fading memory, or a commitment bereft of its once promise.<br /><br />It was a long and unpredictable Spring. Topsy-turvy weather patterns and the newly established flurry of weekdays that are too short to fit more than work and the baby, and a string of weekends where there seemed to be always something going on. Lots of growing pains, for Z as well as Chris and me. We love being parents but how do we also remain who we were before? What has to go and who gets to stay?<br /><br />They say the first year of a child's life is always hardest on a couple. Likely it's even harder on artists and unmarried partners. Throw in a new job, a new creative pursuit, lost friends and estranged family over existing baggage and it's suddenly a Dickens parallax. And through these highs and lows we trudge, and it's a lonely process as those who know us best find us changed forever and are forced to change their relationships to us. A lot of new parents told me that their friend group changed once they had kids, to other couples with kids; I wonder if it's also easier to develop and deepen new friendships rather than revamp old ones?<br /><br />I feel so fortunate that with a few exceptions, I do still feel so close to my friends. The level of support I've received dumbfounds me at times. In the darkest moments when I'm crippled by the possibility of being a single mom, there is reassurance and encouragement. Even when we are acting stupid beyond belief, these friends are there to find lightness. I am so proud of the people in my life, and their generosity to Chris as well as me. I never know how to thank them, or celebrate them enough. It is my mission to raise Zenas to be as kind, giving and true as these wonderful role models he will have as his Aunts and Uncles. You know who you are--thank you so much and all of our love.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-57156024018583792432011-07-04T14:56:00.000-07:002011-07-05T17:26:49.348-07:00Suddenly, This Summer<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEila3iJ_GAlL5NLOohfw0Lf-M9onULtduFPwJDOXOsvP0g5uIezCKcAwTXCstMz6rqKNep-6mU6Da6wQeeKNFeotn5VeCFvIoi73DSlaSK8wTolCeekHzLh2kVtt8OKseTJEpYbFppOrho/s1600/P1080750.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEila3iJ_GAlL5NLOohfw0Lf-M9onULtduFPwJDOXOsvP0g5uIezCKcAwTXCstMz6rqKNep-6mU6Da6wQeeKNFeotn5VeCFvIoi73DSlaSK8wTolCeekHzLh2kVtt8OKseTJEpYbFppOrho/s400/P1080750.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625992157063448274" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Zenas looking very patriotic on his first 4th of July bbq with his hosts, Lori, Emily, Hunter, and Craig (not pictured).</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG8Tc7R5oHoJQo9DBvNI9PKJ5MT9m-E6jbQtfM-nPT0B7BUnkUSxDnm7Xx0Bp2V1IpxFaUPEn1Kys1ZEuAYSPL72PGysh-7p4zq_dqj0t3AfTFF9PtAeEB36AIluwX0elSb_QcIDBuHlw/s1600/P1080369.jpg"><br /></a>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-22864518492754882852011-07-01T15:04:00.000-07:002011-07-05T17:25:58.354-07:0010 of 12"Which creature in the morning goes on four legs, at mid-day on two, and in the evening upon three, and the more legs it has, the weaker it be?" asked the Sphinx. I wish I hadn't been such a fan of the Greek myths to know how Oedipus answered.<br /><br />At ten months Zenas is at the verge of walking--or so we are told, by those who seem to know how to read the signs. We've barely gotten used to the idea of him crawling, and the alarming speed which he's gained in just a few weeks. And he's been pulling himself up for a while now: on me, on Chris, the couch, the nesting table (thereby upsetting a plate of food to pour over his head), the dining room chair (which collapsed onto him), the other kids in daycare (who cry), our cats (who screech), and whatever seems handy within reach. His mobility and strength grows every day, but sneakily right in front of our inexperienced eyes who don't know how to measure its progress. But someone like Uncle Adam will come over and say it's the way he seems to slowly squat down from standing to crawling, not just plopping backwards, and it's that awareness of gravity and his own body that signals that most coveted (and feared) milestone. One of the defining characteristics of a "baby" is his inability to walk. Until he's bipedal, he seems still in that miracle stage of life; once he's upright, he will fulfill the scientific criteria of our species and officially be on his way to becoming a man.<br /><br />Zenas in the last week learned to stand up from a sitting position. Learned, we say, but more accurately, self-taught through instinct and practice, and without an obviously conscious process. My son is not special or unique, but magnificent in that he is proof of genetic hard-wiring to develop such skills. And as new parents we can't help but marvel and celebrate what is so universally matter-of-fact as nothing short of the greatest accomplishment of <span style="font-style: italic;">our</span> lives to have created such a creature.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-44474514149072604962011-03-10T02:06:00.000-08:002011-03-19T03:58:02.595-07:00GigglesIf you want to start your day off right... listen <a href="http://ia600405.us.archive.org/35/items/ZLaugh/Memo.m4a">here</a>.<br /><br /><embed src="%E2%80%9Dhttp://ia600405.us.archive.org/35/items/ZLaugh/ZLaugh_files.xml%E2%80%9D" autostart="false" loop="false" controls="”console”" height="62" width="144"></embed>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-47552902852722785102011-03-01T17:02:00.000-08:002011-03-18T04:09:36.764-07:00The Six-Month MarkI was never good at dating, or at least "dating" in the sense that movies/TV/friends seem to present the concept. They make it seem so breezy and fun: meet a guy, ask or get asked out, eat a meal or attend an event, kiss, make a new friend, get serious or more often than not, go your separate ways. I instead think of dating as a series of awkward moments and communication blunders . With the exception of a few, I quickly skipped the dating phase and went straight into relationships--though of course, in the first few months, it's always called dating because of the general state of denial, or lack of definition/commitment...<br /><br />Zenas and I have known each other now for exactly six months. A good friend told me just before I had the baby: "It's okay if you don't feel in love with your baby immediately. There's a lot of pressure to feel all this love instantly, and you might not. But it will come." I thought it was a brave thing for a new mother to say. And I could imagine, despite the months-long hype leading up to the birth, it's essentially a blind date. A lot of fantasy and hope and anticipation bundled up in a flannel blanket. A wrinkly face that might not be so appealing. What if there were no chemistry???<br /><br />But I got lucky. It was love at first sight. Giddy, instantaneous crush on someone I imagined more than knew. But it's easy to love a newborn. Their need for you feels like the most precious love. And these small creatures can crush even a hardened heart. But that was not yet true love. Those first few months were the hazey, hormonal and sleep-deprivated weeks of infatuation. My lump of a larva could coo, poo, spit up and sleep like no other. It might have been an unhealthy period of little sleep and all obsession but I was hooked and he was the drug that made me feel good.<br /><br />I started to feel a shift around month four, when the traveling began. That's always a milestone in any relationship, that first trip away, to spend 24/7 under duress. Away from our daily routine, I had to tune into his cues better in order to provide as much comfort as I could. We got to know each other's little quirks, sleeping and eating habits, and I became the authority on how to make him happy.<br /><br />Yes we have had some late nights: I did most of the talking while he cried. I made mistakes and I apologized. His drinking grew heavy. He made messes that I had to clean up. But never did either of us think even once of leaving or being with anyone else. If anything, we kept building new routines, inside jokes, and filled photo albums. We kissed all the time.<br /><br />Now we find ourselves at that six-month mark when there's no question of it being more than dating. If you make it halfway to a year, any relationship seems suddenly more significant. (Less than that might be considered a fling.) Any serious commitment before six months sounds frivolous and insane. But when you say "six months," somehow it's acceptable if you decide to get married, move in, whatever.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsd4cmvmSQIuQkgtWJHS56JmP1mYb5sW5PstXQdTWTBo-ZbNGfF_AMEXlHXbdZ2seT-nFC2Y0frZpLfs9HHjw9qYYDS2P78KjQg9laeswVWmsa4tOavmy3-TPvHNIX_358xcMove9lSY/s1600/P1060590.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsd4cmvmSQIuQkgtWJHS56JmP1mYb5sW5PstXQdTWTBo-ZbNGfF_AMEXlHXbdZ2seT-nFC2Y0frZpLfs9HHjw9qYYDS2P78KjQg9laeswVWmsa4tOavmy3-TPvHNIX_358xcMove9lSY/s200/P1060590.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585375394110482370" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I want to be with Zenas forever!真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-6390525549093518142011-02-26T22:57:00.000-08:002011-03-18T04:02:48.375-07:00Lost Item #5<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhCOiGYT3-WXqGJpyQPZirKuZiq92jekDmuza-AWAuC1Whaq1YxDMEJ4SmojHdFQ255jNUkgu6bIM7Vx-755csJjOp52QDjVC4X49m9GiqFI__Udd8bDWHHHozasnO8SSYnJJ725JFg8/s1600/Sophie"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhCOiGYT3-WXqGJpyQPZirKuZiq92jekDmuza-AWAuC1Whaq1YxDMEJ4SmojHdFQ255jNUkgu6bIM7Vx-755csJjOp52QDjVC4X49m9GiqFI__Udd8bDWHHHozasnO8SSYnJJ725JFg8/s320/Sophie" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585372669529159522" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sophie the Giraffe</span><br />Given to us three times as a new baby gift!<br />Last seen: On way to the Uncles' house for dinner, 2/26/11<br />*We think it might have fallen out of the car outside their house; we did not try to rescue it from gutters of West Oakland. Thankfully we had a spare, which came in very handy - it's one of his all-time favorite toys!真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-33469405783930181102011-02-14T02:26:00.000-08:002011-03-01T16:57:31.480-08:00FIrst Valentine's Day<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">current nicknames given by various people</span><br /><br />Z<br />ZB<br />ZS<br />Zizi<br />Zeke<br />Zen-chan<br />The Tyrant<br />Tank<br />Muchacho<br />Rolls<br />The Prince<br />Mussolini<br />BusyBee<br />Z Man<br />Big Ol' Flirt<br />Sumo Wrestler<br />Drool Monster<br />Zenius<br />Ziggy<br />Boob Man<br />Bruiser<br />Little Animal<br />The Sun<br />Cutie Pie/Pettuty<br />Fat Boy<br />Russian Mobster<br />Longshoreman<br />The One<br />Best Thing Ever<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-28746083541663154662011-02-09T10:13:00.000-08:002011-03-18T04:18:49.319-07:00DA BUTTA<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2FouKJWwlEZztn-64eQyRw-M_SND9OuFJGjnCnPKPEjXhgysP5SgaEHnWaAyhRgUY9Q9gbcFQdfShSukDIxv5l9d6zQpz8TCFZ_YrOffmJQC7xULTFkYK8adH41J9v16GJyudZJlWjmE/s1600/P1060779.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2FouKJWwlEZztn-64eQyRw-M_SND9OuFJGjnCnPKPEjXhgysP5SgaEHnWaAyhRgUY9Q9gbcFQdfShSukDIxv5l9d6zQpz8TCFZ_YrOffmJQC7xULTFkYK8adH41J9v16GJyudZJlWjmE/s400/P1060779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585376773893687346" border="0" /></a><br />Under his ample cheeks, spread across his chin, is a very special roll we call "da butta." It's all milkfat and it covers any trace of neck Zenas might have. One of my favorite games is to give a big raspberry whenever he tips his head slightly back, thereby exposing the tender gushy flesh. It's usually good for a giggle.<br /><br />And yes his giggle is one of my favorite sounds.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-8777490770867694882011-02-06T11:55:00.000-08:002011-02-14T02:26:41.366-08:00First Tooth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoPSc2yMjO-hQgNsz3I3bKJ5DsLsSfRPw9QifTJARowfK3ZQNMUm-7dggcNmIZ9DG0kqQ7tJISUAhAMsNFnYh6T4pmC5LqUI3xMdWOdNJKGj6NEqP1ZgMyzoIZCOTvqPYaofYZrGTt7o/s1600/P1060751.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoPSc2yMjO-hQgNsz3I3bKJ5DsLsSfRPw9QifTJARowfK3ZQNMUm-7dggcNmIZ9DG0kqQ7tJISUAhAMsNFnYh6T4pmC5LqUI3xMdWOdNJKGj6NEqP1ZgMyzoIZCOTvqPYaofYZrGTt7o/s400/P1060751.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573488242404448194" border="0" /></a><br />Barely visible on his bottom right is Zenas's first tooth.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-91843396106804142852011-02-04T13:34:00.000-08:002011-03-18T04:23:57.158-07:00Sit Ups<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbWWn5kyn-NkITAHj6DKtLwLpfNbD0eUT7WOdmsPP5d10UIWEvgS52Boco8SAlj0aPkRQtALXIQAI582WluLs_E6r-No9EYM5goBUMcTCdvPZbdgBxMRBm2yl6oC4AfWXGYri1Z_-h8U/s1600/P1060515.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbWWn5kyn-NkITAHj6DKtLwLpfNbD0eUT7WOdmsPP5d10UIWEvgS52Boco8SAlj0aPkRQtALXIQAI582WluLs_E6r-No9EYM5goBUMcTCdvPZbdgBxMRBm2yl6oC4AfWXGYri1Z_-h8U/s320/P1060515.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585374684363440674" border="0" /></a>One of Zenas's first days sitting up by himself. Didn't know this at the time but he was early to master the balance and strength necessary for this move. Here he's still a bit unbalanced, as you can see by his uneven tilt to the side and lean forwards. Only a couple weeks later, he will be completely upright!真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-57710093091529799742011-02-04T02:33:00.000-08:002011-02-14T02:38:14.150-08:00Far-Moster KirstenWe received sad news: Christian's aunt passed away. This was Farmor Hanne's sister Kirsten who lived in Denmark. In addition to family, Kirsten had many friends who will miss her. I never had the chance to meet her, but selfishly feel the loss of someone who loved Zenas.<br /><br />We not only mourn her death but also grieve for our loss: we not only miss her presence in the world, but also lament our missed opportunities to meet and know her. Denmark was our next planned stop of the Baby World Tour, which we hoped we'd resume later this year. Though she was so far away, Kirsten had made sure that we knew how happy she was about the birth of our son. She sounded so excited about meeting him one day; and we wanted to bring her the joy of holding him her arms, feeling that joyous rush of touching family. I would like to believe that there is an afterlife, where she is now experiencing all that is Zenas with all her senses.<br /><br />Kirsten sent us a number of cards on which every blank space filled about how much she thought about us and baby. Chris said the handwriting was exactly the same as he remembered from the cards he had received throughout his whole life--the words uniformly slanted, her loops a bit large but the letters still reedy and written with a fine point. I cannot say I knew her at all but felt a familial love for her all the same, it's hard as a parent not to love back someone who loves my child so much. I only spoke to her once on the phone, but Chris's love for her was infectious, and her reciprocation that obvious by how much she cared about our baby.<br /><br />I will remind Zenas that she spent precious hours talking about him. She had sent one of the coolest outfits he wore as a newborn. We had yet to properly thank her for the present she had sent for his first Christmas, which was a soft baby book of Winnie the Pooh--in Danish. I had hoped to have her read it to him when we visited, but it will now serve as a memento of her amongst his keepsakes. We had sent her photos of Z, which she loved, and now we plan to frame a picture of her to keep in the house so that Zenas will always recognize his great-aunt.<br /><br />Like the word <span style="font-style: italic;">farmor </span>to mean father's mother, there is a word for which means mother's sister, <span style="font-style: italic;">moster.</span> Borrowing the construct of the word for grandmother, I want to remember Kirsten as Zenas's Far-Moster, though I'm likely making up the word. I would like Zenas to have an association that is more than her name, so that her significance in his life is always obvious.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-64650305552943567932011-02-03T16:52:00.000-08:002011-03-18T03:57:17.804-07:00Lost Item #4<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uStRbToBAuDZOXbuHonLaVRSwHb8FCMkBGbhhjFTu9u2pl3mrzAoCbU28fYU3orDMLPM1hvbcl7k3q3fqWLbsvdZhA-_6LbJZj_EpJKVKjdImIhPdvw9EucpUGddFhb00ldK8s4kc5o/s1600/P1060480.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uStRbToBAuDZOXbuHonLaVRSwHb8FCMkBGbhhjFTu9u2pl3mrzAoCbU28fYU3orDMLPM1hvbcl7k3q3fqWLbsvdZhA-_6LbJZj_EpJKVKjdImIhPdvw9EucpUGddFhb00ldK8s4kc5o/s320/P1060480.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585371685574677186" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Made in Vermont Knit Sock</span>, multi-color<br />One out of five in a set given to us by Grandma Pat<br />Last seen: Berkeley Bowl West, 2/3/11<br />*Zenas had learned to take of his socks, something he very much enjoyed to do. I spent an extra 45 minutes circling the store twice, to no avail. The single sock never turned up at Lost and Found.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-18262552899773388972011-02-01T13:43:00.000-08:002011-03-25T01:32:07.099-07:00Five Moons<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZzJdM4Rc04Gqtjhn-6ykHUDg9tuLT7u7bcUURv2QakE3dWbCtcljefD9QcY0K6tO2Y0SP_I_iDbY0TPNuRJ-OxwlVxVH9iwLfUkSue6KMbtEBQO_Bav_dH5zupGJxaMt7IjaJTSdMRg/s1600/P1060477.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZzJdM4Rc04Gqtjhn-6ykHUDg9tuLT7u7bcUURv2QakE3dWbCtcljefD9QcY0K6tO2Y0SP_I_iDbY0TPNuRJ-OxwlVxVH9iwLfUkSue6KMbtEBQO_Bav_dH5zupGJxaMt7IjaJTSdMRg/s400/P1060477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587932489834906146" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWgFRjTG57WSI7LpEb4WuUFBkAEYLYwkivC0W9z7bwvfAfv9fSMqwOqMljoLWvOJ6e1BOtwakn9J6CfwH9NPAfZ2k_y1vn-51USgAgwv6DTNYFn_gwNK16_nTq0HO8JLKoHg6of14TSo/s1600/P1060480.JPG"><br /></a><br />Happy Five-Month Birthday to Zenas!<br />You just keep on getting better. Thank you for being born.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-47697358828250272102011-01-31T15:40:00.000-08:002011-01-31T15:48:51.380-08:00Weeks That Feel Like Years<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMohyphenhyphen7eFNYC5FBv9wP5uu36XzwFXQWo5mq3Ju-bqdtGLrjgFjjm5PilhlHDqdEHg3Et0RgY8ZT4XGNzV11jifODZOHrJisl1s0hUe3zTcpv82lw2CaPuGVYC7rDsOX5N3P3cNydTqX8s/s1600/P1060426.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMohyphenhyphen7eFNYC5FBv9wP5uu36XzwFXQWo5mq3Ju-bqdtGLrjgFjjm5PilhlHDqdEHg3Et0RgY8ZT4XGNzV11jifODZOHrJisl1s0hUe3zTcpv82lw2CaPuGVYC7rDsOX5N3P3cNydTqX8s/s400/P1060426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568500747193930690" border="0" /></a>Zenas shopping at Berkeley Bowl<br /></div><br />We left for Hawaii on December 20, and returned from Japan on January 14. All intentions were there for updates along the way, and then for as soon as we got home... but a new phase of lethargy set in, and I am finding it very difficult to get back to the things which are part of taking care of myself, like writing.<br /><br />First step: to let go of the insistence on posting everything at once or nothing at all. Great irony that I need to resort to what feel like baby steps. Or great poetry, depending on how I look at it. I want to get back to making entries, and will be putting in old dates as well as new ones, as I can't quite give up accuracy. So if you are one of the few devotees to Z, please check for December/January entries the next few weeks.<br /><br />Zenas is five months old tomorrow. His birth feels like it happened both yesterday and a million years ago. I can trace his aging through photos and the tracking of his various new accomplishments. But his existence feels immeasurable, too precious to quantify and too elusive to name. But thanks to the calendar, we can pause and celebrate the now of Zenas. He weighs over 21 pounds. He's at least 27.5 inches. He stands and sits up with help. He's still teething. He doesn't crawl yet but we can see how that's going to happen soon. He smiles a lot and is generous with the belly laugh. He's tried ten foods already and makes solid poops. He wears cool outfits. He works toys with his now graspy hands. He manipulates us.<br /><br />We love him we love him we love him.真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-17489301564822040192011-01-27T13:19:00.000-08:002011-03-18T03:52:25.293-07:00Lost Item #3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcU94JXAnfvCujYjB0psqUHpht3-O6WASlF7faRKY7WAqZPbIB-sKB41v5qXQRZ42IEUTi5YwXaHa8p5T18JQce1KfzAeZnUTSxHZGv18U4YUgIA6eg-N8AQrkgj2epkLQs7Z0mz_oMHY/s1600/2011011016000000.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcU94JXAnfvCujYjB0psqUHpht3-O6WASlF7faRKY7WAqZPbIB-sKB41v5qXQRZ42IEUTi5YwXaHa8p5T18JQce1KfzAeZnUTSxHZGv18U4YUgIA6eg-N8AQrkgj2epkLQs7Z0mz_oMHY/s320/2011011016000000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585368428557175042" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">H&M Herringbone Cap</span>, size 2-4 mos.<br />We bought it for 300 yen in Japan and absolutely loved it--he wore it for a day or two only<br />Last seen: As we left the house for lunch at Pixar on 1/27/11; mother packed it to show off baby only to lose it somewhere in the car, restaurant or parking lot. Never seen and sold out at every location. (We have seen two other babies in San Francisco with the hat - we covet it still).真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-80255045085823316192011-01-25T17:49:00.000-08:002011-02-03T02:43:07.528-08:00The HairThe Fohawk has been long gone...<br /><br />Though Zenas still insists on keeping his father's hairline, the hairs that are on his head have grown too long to stand up. His hairs are the baby fine, spiderweb-like strands of smooth and sturdy silk. The color has darkened beyond the golden hue of milk caramel to that more of burnt sugar. The natural punk look is no more; in its place is a style too unkempt to be referred to as any special coiffure. The hairs keep falling flat down into his face, in scattered squiggles over his forehead, too wispy and separate to look any different than an accident. I caught myself with a new habit of pushing the hairs to one side or another as to give a more combed look, mostly because I feel itchy to look at him, or "uttoushi" as they say in Japanese.<br />The new hair also offers up some fun: Chris and I play around with various combings and title each affectionately.<br /><br />Emo-goth:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzh7ZBDuOVYiJBjJoozJ9-WZ_jqxMmOxeB7_eR4yEPEd5MmWIvxC6oIVlDnr9x4npJ9SzM2W20YfLxoGmfxNiOqnb1NCwnOI2rUsOHQXLrr04_u3mYs630_fuEFW89GLMRkdiBOrQ4Io/s1600/P1060371.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzh7ZBDuOVYiJBjJoozJ9-WZ_jqxMmOxeB7_eR4yEPEd5MmWIvxC6oIVlDnr9x4npJ9SzM2W20YfLxoGmfxNiOqnb1NCwnOI2rUsOHQXLrr04_u3mYs630_fuEFW89GLMRkdiBOrQ4Io/s320/P1060371.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569409862916463890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Hitler Youth:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSECOANX1XwrhH-xqNpxQo07apVpH65Fna-AgcQkuiEyPncLC7pycTr2N9nzi0w8RJw4NhqiPplYn_uTRLAxJy3-Uz5ec5ACRX-VOpYJdT64KxC0LteUmGYs_FvFVWSiM1e1lBCMMgik/s1600/P1060372.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSECOANX1XwrhH-xqNpxQo07apVpH65Fna-AgcQkuiEyPncLC7pycTr2N9nzi0w8RJw4NhqiPplYn_uTRLAxJy3-Uz5ec5ACRX-VOpYJdT64KxC0LteUmGYs_FvFVWSiM1e1lBCMMgik/s320/P1060372.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569410562683453362" border="0" /></a>Dwight Schrute:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3Kb6BrqqgRtd16_Qaiek2WMCvzE5H8uqGpKEk47Ev7qZOwBf-cSRP1VmzvxHmHDohNr_uqqfWrdOGG7yhiPak51gWChPBbWTskdvVIEM4ofeJ9MVTredoMUTOnpxSWnYFdT_Fr0xPa8/s1600/P1060374.JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3Kb6BrqqgRtd16_Qaiek2WMCvzE5H8uqGpKEk47Ev7qZOwBf-cSRP1VmzvxHmHDohNr_uqqfWrdOGG7yhiPak51gWChPBbWTskdvVIEM4ofeJ9MVTredoMUTOnpxSWnYFdT_Fr0xPa8/s320/P1060374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569411323777518514" border="0" /></a>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-51117731732535433762011-01-21T23:33:00.000-08:002011-01-31T16:32:58.286-08:00Ananda Balasana<div style="text-align: left;">All yoga poses have names based on real life imagery. The instructors usually call out the Hindi, then translation, of half-moon, warrier, boat, etc. After any session which required some back strain, my instructor usually throws in what's known as Ananda Balasana, where you lie flat on your back, but grab your toes up in the air above you, knees bent.<br /></div><br />See Zenas in his new move. In yoga it's called the Happy Baby.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WSndilrjM0jrL5T0Py5Ki4oR1ufvhPTHJZC7PcUk-KjNOxwxKPwUQ4leOZreg0PVijyBqWV3Y5_56JbJxWx9dp8ufRhG6KG12_5JqxkZ78mYtrtL0Nq9ZgXhMIuigui7i1xEXwzJHWU/s1600/P1060370.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7WSndilrjM0jrL5T0Py5Ki4oR1ufvhPTHJZC7PcUk-KjNOxwxKPwUQ4leOZreg0PVijyBqWV3Y5_56JbJxWx9dp8ufRhG6KG12_5JqxkZ78mYtrtL0Nq9ZgXhMIuigui7i1xEXwzJHWU/s320/P1060370.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568504422359697714" border="0" /></a>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-51945804731763240012010-12-28T13:30:00.000-08:002011-02-03T03:51:28.882-08:00Celebrity sighting #3We'd migrated to the North Shore for the last few days of our trip. The water tends to be rough on the windward side, especially in the winter, so we opted to head to a beach we read about on the internet called Turtle Bay. It turned out to be a little beach nestled in a golf resort development--not our typical scene, but the water was low and perfect for the baby, and snorkeling possible just a few feet out from the beach.<br /><br />Likely a bit more exclusive than the cheap vacation packages in Waikiki, but the atmosphere still felt like a canned version of Hawaii for visitors. But our experience was enhanced by Chris's celebrity spotting because by then we'd come up with the format for the ridiculous Zenas photos.<br /><br />Behind Zenas in the water, and beyond Zenas on the beach, the gray-haired man is none other than actor Tim Robbins, whom we saw up close and personal:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhYMBy3bWvKJeXm7k-UkoX8Acyj2RLvNrdTPeDiXaUbAb_FXxjDj-3H2Xjv2pPX5G0RzbnPS1Orbbej4_50alP5ydp7qZHC0UwQcF0mUaLAttZwyk1SCBHsu6pcQlQkShY7pJcNu5PW8/s1600/P1050840.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhYMBy3bWvKJeXm7k-UkoX8Acyj2RLvNrdTPeDiXaUbAb_FXxjDj-3H2Xjv2pPX5G0RzbnPS1Orbbej4_50alP5ydp7qZHC0UwQcF0mUaLAttZwyk1SCBHsu6pcQlQkShY7pJcNu5PW8/s400/P1050840.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569428461820805026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVEnrK4erZ4myRZwKBPXecIbTWLsbomvSFB9M0MTtEta4ponH4CYwazoHNLmbr-MBypZifKME1M-rHt2liYgopCJ8m9Hf_v5ODBGAq4eUkv68Xc1S6FGkv_2AAQy3oNZjjTv4TZ4VRrk/s1600/P1050853.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVEnrK4erZ4myRZwKBPXecIbTWLsbomvSFB9M0MTtEta4ponH4CYwazoHNLmbr-MBypZifKME1M-rHt2liYgopCJ8m9Hf_v5ODBGAq4eUkv68Xc1S6FGkv_2AAQy3oNZjjTv4TZ4VRrk/s400/P1050853.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569428900364296946" border="0" /></a>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-43180784513524475672010-12-26T10:43:00.000-08:002011-03-18T03:48:53.925-07:00Lost Item #2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaMPQj8PyzyplJpvt1UBQhKk7dk7w4DdJAZLKchckpxc5tUFklOwxq-efwtFauK58OLe9km6GtlnQuXSF8VeffIMYa6_4A91i0pN7XCoJ1gRcXa8wauLRW3fHrdseeZYrLy0zb1a0Tzo/s1600/P1040774.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaMPQj8PyzyplJpvt1UBQhKk7dk7w4DdJAZLKchckpxc5tUFklOwxq-efwtFauK58OLe9km6GtlnQuXSF8VeffIMYa6_4A91i0pN7XCoJ1gRcXa8wauLRW3fHrdseeZYrLy0zb1a0Tzo/s320/P1040774.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585369977366500226" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Collapsible bouncy seat</span><br />Handed down to us by a dear friend. Handy for traveling, especially outdoors, when he could not sit up yet.<br />Last seen: Alamo Car Rental lobby, Honolulu, HI<br />*We left it behind accidentally while changing cars before our second leg in North Shore - didn't realize it until a few days later真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-82258914723146148182010-12-21T14:58:00.000-08:002011-02-03T03:51:56.717-08:00Celebrity sighting #2One of the many indulgent vices I've taken to during my leave is the watching of television. Of shameless, not-so-deep television that I had lived without for the last fifteen years or more. At first it was all that my poor sleep-deprived brain could handle in those lonely sessions of constant feedings that required some diversion. Reading was impossible and audiobooks were too difficult--so TV won, and I became once again an addict.<br />This would not have been possible without Netflix streaming. An endless supply of non-commercial television at my fingertips. Zenas took about thirty minutes to feed, which was just about as long as Chris could keep his eyes open. <span style="font-style: italic;">30 Rock</span> was great--quality writing, but there were only a couple dozen shows. I burned through the entire five seasons of the next must at feedings, <span style="font-style: italic;">Weeds</span>, which also served as the soothing background to my blurry days at home. Eventually I turned to the new territory of formulaic reality TV on the food/travel channels. With morbid fascination, I watched an entire season and a half of <span style="font-style: italic;">Man v. Food</span> before I burned out. Chris and I both noticed that as the show kept going, the host/challenger of food eating contests looked bigger and bigger...<br /><br />Which brings us to the story of our second day in Hawaii. We were staying in Waikiki, and for convenience headed to the crowded beach to introduce Zenas to the water. It is likely one of the most stupidly crowded tourist spots in the world. We set up our little beach camp, and did what one does on the beach: enjoy the sun, eat a little, read a little, and people watch. Waikiki is not a beach scene like Baywatch. It is filled with families who have traveled from cold climates to be in the sun. There is not a toned body in sight.<br /><br />One of the stranger things about being in a couple is that you often discover you are noticing the same thing, or having the same thought, at the same time. Chris and I were remarking on the sadness of it all when we noticed a man exiting the water in our direct line of sight--and out of nowhere I said, "he looks unhealthy just like that Man v. Food guy, except maybe a little better because he's much taller."<br /><br />To which Chris said, "he's not taller. That's actually him. It's definitely him."<br /><br />So we hotly argued if it was him or not for most of the day, trying not to stare, and though I had to admit the resemblance is amazing, I got hung on logic: why would a television star (okay, this is a loose term here) be alone, sunbathing for hours, at the Waikiki Beach? Chris did eventual convince me that a film crew would be in in Honolulu, staying at a hotel nearby, and that a NY guy would definitely head to the beach in his downtime. Chalk a rare victory up for Chris. :)<br /><br />Here is the proof photo - though Zenas is cut off, he's definitely in the picture with Adam Richman (holding the beach mat). <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2X79FXUHkyC6ORtKRYDJR7PVz3iIb2UtLKJLifqwxsEkQMuNo7Xtw-t_TbDtvi1nVd42_DX45MO4iWOiHVfJe6KjZvomlDWFvu9jgO8H94fb-J3Yk8ETWMegaafgEJ3-3mZfcdgM7Pk/s1600/P1050596.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2X79FXUHkyC6ORtKRYDJR7PVz3iIb2UtLKJLifqwxsEkQMuNo7Xtw-t_TbDtvi1nVd42_DX45MO4iWOiHVfJe6KjZvomlDWFvu9jgO8H94fb-J3Yk8ETWMegaafgEJ3-3mZfcdgM7Pk/s400/P1050596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569422994753344002" border="0" /></a>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-17444215951159019922010-12-11T16:10:00.000-08:002010-12-12T04:15:01.577-08:00Growth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx5vT0ao5RYWyfO7AwoYLcSsP-YHAUdz9NRb6FQRx_64jdTblKkP4PkipqkSspvSckXQmhV1yrpDQ6yPiTi8DPsCL2jfroPuta9KAUuIpr2Jbpi9ELW65uryKRPaZMfGevQATD2bbirJQ/s1600/ZenasGrowth.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 307px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx5vT0ao5RYWyfO7AwoYLcSsP-YHAUdz9NRb6FQRx_64jdTblKkP4PkipqkSspvSckXQmhV1yrpDQ6yPiTi8DPsCL2jfroPuta9KAUuIpr2Jbpi9ELW65uryKRPaZMfGevQATD2bbirJQ/s400/ZenasGrowth.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549699853187024002" border="0" /></a><br />Z continues to grow larger. We love him for his sturdiness, are reassured by his hale girth, but are forgetful sometimes to treat him as one of the newly existent. At three months, he's eighteen pounds, now almost double his birth weight--the unanimous reaction by strangers and friends alike is that he is "big." We constantly need to remind ourselves that he is still fragile and needs to be treated gently; even more so as his senses continue to sharpen to pick up more cues. He's acting less like a slug and more like a cat these days, startling at sudden sounds and tuning in to people's energies.<br /><br />Having a child is having a personal laboratory for observing developmental stages. During pregnancy, I had the time and headspace to read ahead of what was happening in utero. Now that he's out and here, it's all I can do to try to track the changes and then to look them up post-haste to learn what the heck is going on.<br /><br />For example: we left California for Thanksgiving without a single toy packed. We were trying to be minimal, reasoning we could buy anything we really needed. And because when we left, he seemed to have no interest in objects which were quickly let go even if we managed to trick him into gripping one by teasing an open hand into a fist--like a venus flytrap (and as I write this, I came up with: Zenas Toytrap). But halfway into the 10 day trip, we blinked and he was a different baby. All of a sudden he could seemed to look at the pages as we read to him at night, and clutched whatever object (a hand, spoon) that we put in front of him. And serendipitously the next day he received a toy that let him put to use his new found skills. Watching him reach, clutch and turn his toy we wonder how long he had been bored and unable to complain...<br /><br />And once he starts something, the scary and marvelous thing is that it's forever. I'll never forget his first smile at 4 weeks, but every morning first thing he melts me with another one. I found him in his crib the other days rotated about 180 degrees--I guess he pushed himself around like a spinny top--and immediately reconsidered our decision that a tucked in blanket seems safe enough.* My current obsession is to reproduce the belly laugh he just started to make as often and to as many people as possible. Chris encourages "tummy time" to watch him build up his arm strength and muses that he'll be crawling and talking soon.<br /><br />We don't mean to rush him. We also hear over and over that babies are more trouble as they get older and especially after they become mobile. It's just hard to resist the curiosity of witnessing the changes in our child, an extension of our flesh and blood who is demonstrating what we do not remember of ourselves. I thought I knew a thing or two about babies--I'm generally good at guessing ages and feel comfortable around them; but it is different to be raising one 24/7, and to try to decipher the signs or multiple simultaneous symptoms as they occur. As an example: at the height of his cold Zenas also began to teethe--but it was hard to know it for what it was because the bad mood could be attributed to being sick, and the same for the the worst diaper explosions yet; the gnawing might have been telltale had it not been just as he started to use his "third hand" -- we thought it was too early. But indeed a week later he is healthy but still drooling and chomping on fingers, toys and shoulders. It could be months before a tooth actually surfaces but it's certain to happen sooner than later and just like that there will not be a time when he's toothless again as long as he learns to floss...<br /><br />It's part science/biology/voodoo/miracle/magic, how we come to be. Having "made," gestated, birthed him and now watching his progress, I shake my head that evolution has only brought us so far. We are still animal creatures no matter how well we can understand, explain and deal with growth.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Every parent's nightmare is SIDS though the precautions seem too austere.<br /><br /><br /></span>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-7504792091376184432010-12-10T23:43:00.000-08:002010-12-11T23:41:06.179-08:00百日祝いI am trying to hold up Japanese traditional celebrations for my son.<br />I'm flying a bit solo and blind, having only a vague recollection of the milestones to be observed, and a very diluted knowledge of holidays and festivals. I realize I have to do a bit of homework in advance here, lest some important days slip by unnoticed. The correct observance of the hundredth day, I just found out, is about food. It's the third ritual in infancy (the others: 7th night naming and first trip to the temple for a blessing.) Food to mark a long life of happy eating is prepared and presented to the baby--who likely has just begun teething, so it's really just a performance of mock feeding. Images here for what might be a <a href="http://www.google.com/images?q=okuizome&hl=en&prmd=iv&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&biw=1388&bih=712">traditional feast</a>.<br /><br />I only knew that the 100th day was one of significance. My mother during her stay had criticized us for taking Z out during her visit, explaining that in olden times babies were kept indoors for 100 days for safekeeping. I interpreted it to be a birthday of sorts after the most vulnerable time had passed: with triple digit days under his/her belt, the child was more of a person? The current trend in our demographic today is to refer to the first few months as "the fourth trimester" -- an out-of-womb larval state before they truly come into their own.<br /><br />While back East, I thought I wanted to throw a party for Zenas. But my original ambition did not manifest with our next travel adventure looms too closely ahead, and our time between grandparents feels more like a pitstop in our house to recover from our colds, see a few friends, and brace ourselves against the next set of holidays. Instead I took the easy way out--we had been invited over for dinner that night by Bill and Camille, so I brought along a cake and asked them to join the commemoration. I had read about a small bakery in a Japantown grocery store that made yummy cakes. A business that looks as old as 40+ years is being run by an elderly bilingual japanese woman who 1) whispered "no, she's nisei (second-generation)" in response to my inquiry if the pastry chef could write a japanese message on the cake, and 2) tsked at me for not being able to remember one letter from the japanese phonetic alphabet when we agreed hiragana would be possible.<br /><br />In the end, the cake was a little bruised in transport, but Zenas was surrounded by love and congratulated by a toast.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBk0S7bAzYJ4AqxJ5mO4flfmHAFxh7vNj4awOtUC15noltE4i44FiXzHAK9cq9Ovy8qXIYMLMbTTyRLNXKDWIhrEtkUPHhvnJ1nUQKCJtnWXefo5pN3eR4iWftLsxM0bkplqePG3s3H0I/s1600/IMG_0636.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBk0S7bAzYJ4AqxJ5mO4flfmHAFxh7vNj4awOtUC15noltE4i44FiXzHAK9cq9Ovy8qXIYMLMbTTyRLNXKDWIhrEtkUPHhvnJ1nUQKCJtnWXefo5pN3eR4iWftLsxM0bkplqePG3s3H0I/s320/IMG_0636.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549697186605463730" border="0" /></a>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7872952218907178724.post-50863343626141524552010-12-01T21:10:00.000-08:002011-02-03T02:57:57.263-08:00Celebrity sighting #1This is the first of new series --<br /><br />In his short life, Zenas has been in the presence of a few celebrities. While Chris and I are not the autograph-seeking type, we do think that our child might be interested to have a list.<br />Caveat: this excludes all Pixar folks, though some are considered celebrities, they don't count because it was not so random a sighting. They also don't make as good an opportunity for the most ridiculous of photos, where Zenas is in close-up and the celebrity faaaar away in the background.<br /><br />Here is Zenas, with Salman Rushdie, at a reading of <span style="font-style: italic;">Luka and the Fire of Life</span> (special thanks to Megan Kurashige for hooking us up with tickets).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlnYG_WtFBXrLpB5GfIJX-TpoDePoOxyI9yQXpFnD61CrOLXgSyXYYfDpsK2VnDrxbXF0jevt1vh88ylytGNcpSS3TddqFQVMToki62AMqUIauiNw2CQKG5vTFDTRDSKn70SUBi744Tk/s1600/P1050497.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzlnYG_WtFBXrLpB5GfIJX-TpoDePoOxyI9yQXpFnD61CrOLXgSyXYYfDpsK2VnDrxbXF0jevt1vh88ylytGNcpSS3TddqFQVMToki62AMqUIauiNw2CQKG5vTFDTRDSKn70SUBi744Tk/s400/P1050497.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569415425776801890" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>真理http://www.blogger.com/profile/11238597793319800329noreply@blogger.com0