If I only had 50 minutes to live...

Jeremy brought home his teaching evaluations from his first semester of full-time professoring today. I always like reading his teaching evaluations, because he always manages to elicit some inordinately passionate comments from his students. As an example, when he taught at SUNY-Cortland last year, one of his students said something like, "Best teacher I ever had! Dr. B----- is both brilliant and handsome!" Brilliant and handsome. I am married to the man, and those would probably not be the first two adjectives to come to my mind (not that they're not true, JB! Holla!).

Last semester was something of a slog for Jeremy (and me, if you want to know the whole truth). He was teaching three classes he'd not taught before, we had that baby the second week of school, and we were pretty well haggard and unattractive by the semester's end. It was the kind of semester where you just kind of hope your mad skills as a razzler-dazzler make up for any potential gaps in instruction.

So, I am pleased to report that Jeremy totally rocked his semester. He got terrific marks, some great positive feedback, and one truly memorable comment:

"If I had only 50 minutes to live, I would live them in this class. Because it seems to take an eternity."

Classic!

I guess you can't win 'em all, but if that's not worthy of embroidering onto a pillow, I just don't know what is. Nice work, Doc. I find you both brilliant and handsome.

Super!

Back in the day, possibly as long as three full months ago, when Jonathan's love of superheroes was at its peak, we all got ourselves some superhero names. This was during the time when Jonathan would rarely answer to his own name, demanding instead that we call him by a constantly rotating list of superhero names.

(I'm sure you can imagine a conversation like the following: "Hey, Jonathan!" "I'm not Jonathan! I'm Spider-Man!" "Oh! Hey, Spider-Man!" "No, I'm Batman!" etc., etc.)

Anyway, Jonathan is a warm-hearted and generous little guy, so he made sure that we all had our own superhero names as well.

Neither Clara nor I were awarded particularly memorable superhero names, though we were grateful to have them nevertheless. Jeremy got to be Cop-Man, which is amusing on so many levels. And then of course, the teeny guy got a name too--the best one of all.

Meet Biggie Man.


Biggie Man is an incredibly powerful superhero. He is known for his steely gaze, his napalm drool, and his unpredictable (and powerful) explosions. Don't be fooled by his mild-mannered alter-ego or his passive expression. Biggie Man is legit. And biggie. And awesome. And also pretty tender. It's great to be so super.

Ring the bells

Clara's Pre-K had a little Christmas concert before the end of school, which marked our very first foray into the world of school concerts. From what my parents seem to remember about raising their kids, the next 18 years or so will go by in a veritable blur of painful (yet charming) concerts, contests, plays, and productions. But if everyone takes a cue from Clara's concert, it won't be all that bad, because the whole event was over in about 30 minutes. That's a beautiful thing.

Clara just loves her Pre-K, and she was pretty excited about her concert. The kids sang three songs: "Jingle Bells" in Spanish, "Ring the Bells," and "B-I-N-G-O" (because that's what happens when you let four and five-year-olds vote on what they want to sing at a holiday concert). Clara took her performance very seriously and was a little perturbed that her classmates didn't all share her feelings. Take a look:



This video tells me at least three things about Clara: 1)The girl's got rhythm; 2)she is an extremely obedient student; 3)she values enunciation. Nice job, Sis!

Germs

Jonathan: How small are germs?

Me: Pretty small. So small you can't even see them.

Jonathan: But how small are they?

Me: Really, really small. You can't see them without a microscope.

Jonathan (pinches his thumb and forefinger together): Like this small?

Me: Sure. Really, really small.

Jonathan: But how small?

Me: Well, what's the smallest thing you can think of?

Jonathan: A germ.

Me: Well, then I guess they're as small as a germ.

Jonathan (pinches his fingers together again): Like this small?

Me: Sure.

Jonathan: I can see that.

Me: Well, there you go.

Jonathan: I can see germs.

Me: What do they look like?

Jonathan: Like aliens. Like aliens jumping on trampolines.

And now you know.

That's Dr. Finnigan to you.

I wish I had a better picture of this particular ensemble, because it's just so Jonner. Nevertheless, I'm sure this gives you a good sense both of how awesome cowboy Spider-Man is and how awesome Jonathan is.

A few musings on my boy:

Jonathan has a great laugh, and he's had pretty much the same laugh since he was a baby. If you haven't heard him laugh for awhile, might I refer you to one of our favorite family videos, which we've christened "Deer Pop" (for reasons that will be clear to you upon reviewing the film). That's how he laughed at 12 months; that's pretty much how he laughs now.

One thing I love about Jonathan's laugh is how free and unrestrained it is. He's totally un-self-conscious about it, and it's a thing of beauty. Just tonight we were at an evening story time at the library, and he and several other kids got into a "snowball" fight with fiberfill. All of the kids were having fun, but nobody was laughing like Jonner. I overheard one parent say, "Do you hear that laugh? Don't you love it?" I do.

Today at dinner, Jonathan said, "Dad, what do your students call you?" Jeremy said, "Well, some of them call me Dr. B-----, some of them call me Professor, and some of them call me Mr. B-----." Jonathan chewed on that for awhile, then said, "When I'm in your office, your students usually call me Mr. Finnigan." We both looked at him quizzically, then I said, "Why do they call you Mr. Finnigan?" He replied, "Just like that guy in that book, that really creepy book."


Jonathan: lover of all things spooky, super, and awesome.

Taking a sick day

In my line of work, sick days are something I sometimes secretly long for. The problem, of course, is that I'm generally as healthy as an ox, and other than a sad bout with H1N1 in 2009, I am almost never sick. Clearly I don't actually want to be sickly or unwell, but sometimes I wish I could just lie in bed all day and have someone fetch my meals and take care of the kids. Again, though, the only time that has ever happened is when I was nearly delirious with H1N1 or when I was recovering from a c-section. Not one of those occasions was remotely pleasant. So I guess what I really wish is that I could just lie in bed for a day, perfectly healthy, and do nothing but read and have someone fetch my food and take care of my kids. I'll have to work on that.

At any rate, our most recent sick day had nothing to do with me. The night after Christmas, Jonathan woke up in the night with a 102 degree fever which knocked him out for about 24 hours. I made up our traditional "sick bed" on the couch for him, and we all spent the day watching movies.


Clara was quick to sign up for a sympathetic sickness (such a good sister), so I made up a bed for her, even though she was perfectly healthy.


The biggest trick with Jonathan--in sickness and in health--is getting him to eat and drink enough. We tempted him with all sorts of delights, but he hardly ate a bite all day. Finally, for dinner, I spoon-fed him scrambled eggs on the couch while he watched another movie. I was happy that he ate at all, but Clara, sitting at the dinner table with Jeremy, far away from view of the TV, was really quite bitter. She spent the next two days trying to convince us that she was gravely ill and that nothing would speed her recovery faster than a light repast on the couch in front of a movie. When her machinations failed to get her what she wanted, she gave up, resigned to night after night of eating a normal dinner at the family table with no TV in sight.

Sometimes it really is hard to be healthy.

A last look at 2011

Not surprisingly, our last big event of 2011 was Christmas. We had another wonderful Christmas this year, re-creating much of the slow pace and relaxation that made last year's Christmas so pleasant and memorable.

We started a new tradition on Christmas Eve this year--one I've been interested in starting for quite a while now. For dinner on Christmas Eve we had a "Bethlehem Dinner" where we dined by candlelight and ate foods that Mary and Joseph might have eaten all those many years ago. We had a few notable exceptions. 1)I wanted to serve fish; Jeremy wanted to make sure our currently-fussy Jonathan had some food in his stomach. Compromise: we had fish sticks. So classy. But Jonathan did eat a LOT of them. 2)I bought a package of pita bread at the store to save myself the trouble of making it myself. As it turns out, it might have been worth the trouble since the bread was moldy. Gross. We dined on regular wheat bread cut into triangles, but we did have fun toasting the slices over the candle.

The rest of the menu was hummus, pomegranate seeds, oranges, olives, and goat cheese. I don't know how "authentic" it was, but it was both fun and meaningful to eat the food and talk about the first Christmas. Towards the end of dinner, not knowing what the kids had absorbed from the whole event, we decided to go around and say what we were grateful for. I think I said I was grateful to be a mother like Mary, and Jeremy said he was grateful for Jesus. Then Clara and Jonathan surprised us in the best sense of the word. Clara told us she was grateful for Mary for having so much faith to have her baby in a manger. Jonathan said he was grateful that Joseph was so brave to be Jesus' dad. It was a sweet moment--one of those times where as parents we felt like any small effort we'd made was more than worth it.

We followed up dinner with our traditional reenactment of the Christmas story and a reading of The Night Before Christmas (read this year by my dad via one of those recordable storybooks, which was fun!). The kids went off to bed, and before any of us knew it, Santa had come and Christmas morning was upon us!




I love Christmas morning photos. The kids always look a little bewildered and certainly bleary-eyed, but the funny shots of their first glimpses of Santa's gifts really showcase the magic of the day for me.




Clara's Christmas list read as follows: "For Christmas I would like a toy pony with rider, some ear loves in my stocking, and a few surprises." She got what was on her list, though I think the "ear loves" were my favorite.



Jonathan loved his new light saber from Santa Claus, but I think one of the biggest hits was from Clara: a book called The Astonishing Secret of Awesome Man. It's a terrific book, and certainly a must-read for any young superheroes you might know. It's both funny and tender--two of my favorite sentiments.


I can't imagine anything I value more than spending Christmas with my sweet children and my best friend. I wish I could think of something more clever to say, but there it is. Merry Christmas to all!