Last Friday- I look up from talking with Madeline and Cheryl, and Spencer has taken off-- clear across the field that borders the playground. He's not looking back. He's not playfully daring me to come get him. He's just trucking into the great What's Next. I pass Nora to Cheryl and sprint (ok, I can't sprint anymore, I amble, I hurry) to get my son. I'm supposed to feel good that he feels loved enough to be comfortable to run off without a backward glance, right? Okay...
Today began with our first music class at MacPhail (lots of fun banging, singing and dancing... I need to be reminded it's too early to just hand him a violin); a visit to the fire station (Firefighter Isabelle let him turn on the lights on the firetruck, and had him officially welcomed on a radio station that, according to the Captain, was heard all over the city!)... and ended with (God bless) Melissa watching Nora while Spence and I wowed the Temple Israel Sisterhood. I wowed them talking about foreclosure prevention; Spence had an accident on the way over and wowed them by waltzing in pantless-- just a diaper, t-shirt, socks and his new size-9 silver sneakers... waving and grinning and grabbing grapes.
Nora, meanwhile, managed to be cute enough to stop traffic, despite teething and a fever. I have to say my favorite moment of the day was lunch at Riverview Cafe (Spence gnaws on a blueberry scone after I scold the incredulous barista for not selling peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches)... and the two of them start grinning and giggling at each other. I was background, food provider, face wiper, it was all about the brother and sister, living it up, without a backward glance, into the great What's Next.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
the Voice from the Couch
David (after 15 hours with Spence & Nora): I am wayyy too tired to clean up.
Kristy (after 15 hours teaching): I am wayyy too tired to clean up.
Cue couch. Cue sweets. Cue "Rachel Zoe Project".
After a nice morning playdate with Rachel and little Ben at lake Harriet, Spencer wailed for 25 minutes, all the way to the doctor's office. Nothing helped-- not food, nor drink, nor distraction, nor sympathy, nor (shockingly) the calm, reasonable, even-keeled voice of Papa saying he's sorry Spencer is sad but we had to leave the playground and really I just think you're overtired. Nora decided to let him cry it out and didn't bat an eyelash-- in fact, she closed them and took a cat-nap.
An easily becalmed Spence perched on the counter at Fairview Children's Clinic as I navigated some very minor delays due to a switch in insurance. I thought about how hard it would be not to flip out if they actually said we couldn't get in to see the doctor, or that we'd have to pay a zillion dollars for the visit upfront... and felt just a fraction of the fear that must motivate the anti-"Obamacare" protesters who feel they'll somehow be put to pasture if the public option prevails. There are enough people really being sentenced to (preventable) suffering and death because of "pre-existing conditions", caps, and other rational market-based rules.
It's a dangerous way to enter into the political process-- an edge of desperation and vulnerability, easily exploitable fears; a willingness to dis-believe anything your opponents profess ("you lie!" as battle-cry).
But then again, so is cynical passivity.
So when does "Hope" get up off the couch in real numbers, and sprout wings upon its heels, or iridescent scales, or flashing prophet's eyes to fight like hell for the living?
Kristy (after 15 hours teaching): I am wayyy too tired to clean up.
Cue couch. Cue sweets. Cue "Rachel Zoe Project".
After a nice morning playdate with Rachel and little Ben at lake Harriet, Spencer wailed for 25 minutes, all the way to the doctor's office. Nothing helped-- not food, nor drink, nor distraction, nor sympathy, nor (shockingly) the calm, reasonable, even-keeled voice of Papa saying he's sorry Spencer is sad but we had to leave the playground and really I just think you're overtired. Nora decided to let him cry it out and didn't bat an eyelash-- in fact, she closed them and took a cat-nap.
An easily becalmed Spence perched on the counter at Fairview Children's Clinic as I navigated some very minor delays due to a switch in insurance. I thought about how hard it would be not to flip out if they actually said we couldn't get in to see the doctor, or that we'd have to pay a zillion dollars for the visit upfront... and felt just a fraction of the fear that must motivate the anti-"Obamacare" protesters who feel they'll somehow be put to pasture if the public option prevails. There are enough people really being sentenced to (preventable) suffering and death because of "pre-existing conditions", caps, and other rational market-based rules.
It's a dangerous way to enter into the political process-- an edge of desperation and vulnerability, easily exploitable fears; a willingness to dis-believe anything your opponents profess ("you lie!" as battle-cry).
But then again, so is cynical passivity.
So when does "Hope" get up off the couch in real numbers, and sprout wings upon its heels, or iridescent scales, or flashing prophet's eyes to fight like hell for the living?
Friday, September 11, 2009
the great pancake playdate
I was stuck; paralyzed mid-crouch, holding Nora in one arm, the diaper bag on one shoulder, with my other arm flung around Spence, trying to figure out how to take his shoes off. The pancake playdate with Frances, Madeline and Anton might have ended here. Frances eyed me and Spence, and I could see the thought bubble: "I want to play with Spencer, but his Papa is short-circuiting before he's even made it through our mud-room. This just might not work."
In the end, we had a great time, aided in no small part by Madeline's and (later, at Brackett park) Summer's willingness to hold their babies and my baby at once while I a) chased after Spencer to change his diaper; b) soothed Spencer after other kids took his tennis racquets, and c) many other dire emergencies. Madeline's chocolate chip pancakes also helped.
Later on, with Nora conked out in the carseat, I pulled up outside our house and scooped Spencer up to get him inside. I was thinking lunch prep, transferring the slumbering babe up to her bed, combating Spence's diaper rash, and a remote concern about preparing for the Temple Israel social justice Shabbat later on that night (Rachel was great, we got a bunch of new volunteers to sign up, and we sang James Taylor's "You've Got A Friend" at the end of the service). But back to the scene at the car. Instead of shimmying down to race up the stairs all by himself, Spencer threw his arms and legs around me and cuddled in tight, and everything froze for a long moment as the cooling wind surrounded us and I heard him repeat what I have told him so many times, "I love you SOOOO much".
My thought bubble: this just might work.
In the end, we had a great time, aided in no small part by Madeline's and (later, at Brackett park) Summer's willingness to hold their babies and my baby at once while I a) chased after Spencer to change his diaper; b) soothed Spencer after other kids took his tennis racquets, and c) many other dire emergencies. Madeline's chocolate chip pancakes also helped.
Later on, with Nora conked out in the carseat, I pulled up outside our house and scooped Spencer up to get him inside. I was thinking lunch prep, transferring the slumbering babe up to her bed, combating Spence's diaper rash, and a remote concern about preparing for the Temple Israel social justice Shabbat later on that night (Rachel was great, we got a bunch of new volunteers to sign up, and we sang James Taylor's "You've Got A Friend" at the end of the service). But back to the scene at the car. Instead of shimmying down to race up the stairs all by himself, Spencer threw his arms and legs around me and cuddled in tight, and everything froze for a long moment as the cooling wind surrounded us and I heard him repeat what I have told him so many times, "I love you SOOOO much".
My thought bubble: this just might work.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
More pictures...
Spence taking in his first Twins game... getting an aerial view of State Fair drummers... Momma proves that *everyone* eats at the Fair!
a pictorial post
Grandpa and Nora bonding over bottle... Frances and Spence practice their duet...Nora and the lovin' spoonful...
Friday, September 4, 2009
A scrap of "me time"...
It's 12:15pm and after a good morning at the Children's Museum, both kids are asleep. This would be a perfect time to read some parenting books, or make some calls to set up the next social justice playdate. Or I could clean, or enjoy some "me" time, meditate, journal, etc. I could take the next steps in planning "phase II" of our foreclosure prevention campaign, or I could even catch up on reading my books on organizing and political philosophy.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
Seriously though, I need to say something about the verbal scrapfest my most recent facebook status has generated-- from a plea for guaranteed health care to a sharp exchange on abortion and taxes to a debate on civility and democracy.
Does civility matter? We are so polarized on so many issues, having drawn battle-lines over abortion, health care, taxes, unions, affirmative action, climate change, military intervention, etc., that it almost seems useless to try to have a civil conversation "across enemy lines". It's a power struggle-- try to persuade the undecided middle, try to get the media and your opponents to use your language, your terms so that your 'frame' becomes the dominant and taken for granted way of understanding the issue, make sure to fire up your base of fervent supporters...
...and it's hard for me to want to be civil talking about health care when there are folks bringing guns to town hall forums, and more importantly, because of people like the guy my dad saw at his clinic-- who tried to lance an abscess in his mouth because he didn't have dental insurance, got a bacterial infection that spread through his bloodstream and caused a crippling, paralyzing stroke. So who cares about civility?
What happens when we juxtapose this scene with the lunch-counter sit-ins of 1960, that drew inspiration from Gandhian non-violence and whose partisans sought to create a confrontation that forced a change of heart in the lunch-counter managers and patrons, instead of returning force with force, or intimidation with intimidation?
What if we introduce the Jewish prohibition on naming God, since we won't be able to avoid limiting God's grandeur with our words, conceptions, names, images, etc?
What if we decided that we can learn enough, and be certain enough about the answers to our world's most pressing questions, that we can engage in spirited political debate, protest, organizing, educating, etc., but that as best we may, we should observe enough humility at our own ability to arrive at complete certainty, and enough respect for our opponents that we would rather win them over then drive them into submission and silence?
Just a thought. And now this polite Minnesotan needs to start warming up some milk...
Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.
Seriously though, I need to say something about the verbal scrapfest my most recent facebook status has generated-- from a plea for guaranteed health care to a sharp exchange on abortion and taxes to a debate on civility and democracy.
Does civility matter? We are so polarized on so many issues, having drawn battle-lines over abortion, health care, taxes, unions, affirmative action, climate change, military intervention, etc., that it almost seems useless to try to have a civil conversation "across enemy lines". It's a power struggle-- try to persuade the undecided middle, try to get the media and your opponents to use your language, your terms so that your 'frame' becomes the dominant and taken for granted way of understanding the issue, make sure to fire up your base of fervent supporters...
...and it's hard for me to want to be civil talking about health care when there are folks bringing guns to town hall forums, and more importantly, because of people like the guy my dad saw at his clinic-- who tried to lance an abscess in his mouth because he didn't have dental insurance, got a bacterial infection that spread through his bloodstream and caused a crippling, paralyzing stroke. So who cares about civility?
What happens when we juxtapose this scene with the lunch-counter sit-ins of 1960, that drew inspiration from Gandhian non-violence and whose partisans sought to create a confrontation that forced a change of heart in the lunch-counter managers and patrons, instead of returning force with force, or intimidation with intimidation?
What if we introduce the Jewish prohibition on naming God, since we won't be able to avoid limiting God's grandeur with our words, conceptions, names, images, etc?
What if we decided that we can learn enough, and be certain enough about the answers to our world's most pressing questions, that we can engage in spirited political debate, protest, organizing, educating, etc., but that as best we may, we should observe enough humility at our own ability to arrive at complete certainty, and enough respect for our opponents that we would rather win them over then drive them into submission and silence?
Just a thought. And now this polite Minnesotan needs to start warming up some milk...
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