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A few weeks ago, I pointed out to Jeremy (with a kind of wistful sadness) that Cole was already five months old and had only been to four states. To make matters worse, one of those states was Iowa, which we entered only accidentally for less than five minutes when we took a wrong turn on the way home in the dark one day. I'm not sure we should even count it (but of course we do). Never mind that by the time I turned fourteen I'd been to exactly four states; Cole comes from a family of well-traveled children, and he was falling behind.

To make up for having spent such a dull first five months on earth, Cole and I decided to join Jeremy at his annual geography conference in New York City.

Jeremy goes to this conference (for the Association of American Geographers) nearly every year. Since he started his Master's, he's gone to six AAG conferences, and I've joined him for four of those--Denver, Chicago, Boston, and New York. It's a bit of a shame that he always has to actually attend the conference when we're visiting some of my favorite places, but we've managed to strike a nice balance over the years.

This year's AAG was particularly well scheduled, since it took place less than two weeks past our TEN year anniversary (Holla, JB!). It seemed like a great opportunity to travel together, even if we did have to take Cole along. Frankly, though, if we had to take a baby it might as well have been Cole. We don't call him World's Best Baby for nothing.


Jeremy's mom generously offered to fly out to tend Jonathan and Clara in our absence, which made it possible for me to leave their sweet faces without too much heart-sickness, though I did feel a little choked up when I kissed them good-bye in the wee hours of the morning before leaving for the airport.

The flight to New York was fantastic. We had no one sitting around us, Cole was an angel, and Jeremy and I talked more in those three hours than we have in the last two months. That is probably only a slight exaggeration. I loved it! I would've wanted to stay on the plane forever if only 1)we'd had food; and 2)we hadn't practically been in a death spiral during the bumpy and horrible landing. Yuck.

We checked into our charming hotel, and I soon departed to find sustenance and roam the city streets. I'd only been to New York once before, when I was pregnant with Clara, but I very much enjoy visiting big cities and love wandering around looking at buildings and trying to avoid having homeless people spit into my mouth. I'm happy to report that I was successful on both counts. I returned after an hour with some food to a hungry and grateful Jeremy, then I said I'd stay with Cole while Jeremy walked the mile to the conference hotel to check in. I figured I'd lie down with Cole so he could take a nap, and the next thing I knew, three hours had passed and Jeremy was conked out on the bed with us (though not before snapping this charming photo). I guess some people might think a three hour nap was a bit of a waste in one of the world's greatest cities, but those people are not us. It was fantastic.



Our hotel was quite near Grand Central Terminal, so we wandered there for dinner. We'd thought to go farther afield, but we read a review that said Grand Central's dining concourse had more variety and better food than most small cities. Since we're from a small town now, we thought we'd see if it was true. It was. We had tandoori chicken at a little Indian place (that actually had a for real tandoor oven in it--at a food court!) then followed that up with a little gelato chaser. Very worth it. We even got to sample the local culture when a crazy lady who looked perfectly normal kept wandering by us muttering, "If the parents aren't normal the kids aren't normal. Parents aren't normal..." Ah, crazy lady!

Grand Central also gave us a chance to snap these pics for my sister, Megan. If they don't make sense to you, then you are not Megan:



And while we're on the subject of Megan, this one's for her, too ("Hey, Mozz--I think Kate left me a message!"):


We all slept very well that first night, including Cole in his little Russian Orphanage-chic hotel crib (where do they get those things?). In the morning, Jeremy dragged himself to present his paper at the conference at 8:00. He said it went well, which I'll go ahead and call an unmitigated success. While he gave his paper, Cole and I took the subway uptown and wandered around in the cold and wind until we met up with Jeremy. Later that day we went to the Met, and even though we only saw a small fraction of the art there, I was totally blown away. I guess there's a reason why it's a world-renowned art museum. It was like being in an art history book. I kept saying, "Oh, there's a Van Gogh. And another one. And another! Oh my goodness, look at all the Van Goghs!" I could've spent hours and hours just in the European and American art wings. Monet, Manet, Sargent, Van Gogh, Cassatt, Degas, Picasso, Seurat, Renoir, Rodin... Honestly, it blew my mind. My favorite piece was probably Van Gogh's "Wheat Field with Cypresses." It doesn't look like much in the picture, but in person I was amazed by the texture of the painting. So much paint! Amazing brush strokes... The whole experience made me wish I knew more about art.



Another highlight was our opportunity to go to church at one of the Manhattan wards. The church was a refurbished old building that from the outside looked like a great old church and from the inside looked like any LDS church building--just one that was five stories tall. We rode the elevator to the fourth floor just to peek inside the Sunday School classroom (and to be able to say we'd ridden an elevator at church).



On our last day in the city, I had this notion to take the ferry out to see the Statue of Liberty. Doesn't that sound like a nice idea? So we woke up, took the subway downtown, waited in a really long line in the cold wind, crammed into a ferry boat in the cold wind, got off the boat on Liberty Island (Hello, New Jersey! Lucky Cole gets another state!), walked around the island in the cold wind, then got cut off 10 people from front of the line when the return ferry was too full. Curses! We proceeded to sit in the cold wind on the dock for 30 minutes waiting for the next ferry. Have I mentioned anything about the cold wind?


So, I've always been quite moved by "The New Colossus," which is the poem by Emma Lazarus engraved on a plaque inside the lower level of the pedestal of the statue (which was closed for renovations, but I assume the poem is still there). I think it's really a beautiful poem, and whenever I read it I feel very keenly the promise that the Statue of Liberty must have represented to those many immigrants coming to America for the hope of a better life. But I will tell you this: when I was sitting on that dock surrounded by hordes of people in the cold wind with an extremely unhappy baby, I felt like the experience really brought to life the lines from the poem: "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore." Oh, did I ever yearn to be freed from those wretched, huddled masses! By the time we finally got back on the ferry, I was completely Liberty-ed out and practically kissed the pigeon-poop-stained ground when we once again reached terra firma. Obviously my 30 minutes in the cold wind really does not compare to immigrants sailing in horrific conditions for months at a time. And I'm not saying you shouldn't go to the Statue of Liberty should you have the opportunity. Just be prepared for some huddled masses.



And that was our trip! (Are you still reading?) Despite the wind and the crowds, we had a great time, and the World's Best Baby was in top form. We ate well, talked a lot, and drank gallons of orange water from the hotel lobby (heaven!). I can't wait to go back.


Incidentally, a few days after we got home Cole managed to squeeze in a trip to Kansas. He's making excellent progress.

Found!

Our babies are certainly not noted for their physical prowess, but I am happy to report that within the last week our nearly six-month-old Cole both found his feet and rolled over for the first time (he was so surprised!). Finally! Nice work, Baby.

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!

Here comes Santa Claus

Here's a little game of "Who's that baby?" for your perusal and enjoyment. Leave your guess in the comments. Hint: they are not the same baby. But they could be. But they're not.

Three Months

In mid-December, Cole turned three months old. I am stuck in that familiar place of trying to reconcile feeling like he just barely got here with the fact that it's tricky for me to remember life without him.

Cole is surely a big guy. Earlier this month, I had a doctor's appointment, and I helped myself to the infant scale in the mother's room there to see how big Cole is. As it turns out, at three months old he weighed 15 pounds, 2.5 ounces. That means he's more than doubled his birth weight. It also means he's become quite a load to tote.


I'm trying not to be disappointed in the fact that he's reduced his nighttime sleeping hours to just nine or ten. I know that seems like a pretty dreamy stretch of sleep for him and for us, but a couple of weeks ago he had two weeks of sleeping for twelve hours in a row! At least I know it's possible...


Cole is sweet-tempered and incredibly good-natured. He puts himself to sleep, he loves faces, he's starting to deliberately swat at things, and--much to Jeremy's chagrin--he started sucking his thumb this week. We think he's just grand. I just love that baby.

Ornamentation

It's a tradition of ours to add a few new ornaments to our collection every year. For the family, we always get a "Li Bien" ornament from Pier 1. They're beautiful glass ball ornaments, painted from the inside with a Christmas scene and the year. They put out new designs every year, and since they're hand-painted each one is unique. I love them all.

I also buy one ornament for each of the kids every year. My favorite place to buy ornaments for them is at the World Market, and I was happy to be in Colorado for Thanksgiving so I could easily go to a World Market. Jonathan and Clara are developing nice little collections of ornaments, and Cole got his first one this year.

But as it turns out, none of these ornaments can really hold a candle to my favorites of the year. For Clara's pre-K Christmas party, I brought cardstock gingerbread man and snowman shapes, along with markers, googly eyes, bells, stamps, etc. I also brought Jonathan. Clara and her friends had a great time decorating their little ornaments. Clara's look like this:


Jonathan, on the other hand, spent the whole time talking about wanting to make a "spooky" (or "sooky," as he says) ornament. His look like this:



I love them, truly. It really captures Jonathan at this stage of his life. He makes "sooky" ornaments, and his favorite songs on his personal Spotify playlist are the mildly spooky "The Backson Song" from Winnie the Pooh, the slightly spookier "Heffalumps and Woozles" from the original Winnie the Pooh movie, and the ultimate "sooky" song, Michael Jackson's "Thriller." He's a great boy.