Alex in bunnyland

Did I ever mention that Dear Alex really likes bunnies?

I don't think there's any more to say, really. Her face says it all.

Best of all, it's yellow

Because Beautiful Wife had to work a bit this weekend, we stayed in the city yet again. It was a chance to take care of those odd little things we wanted to get done, and a chance to take Dear Alex shopping for a much-needed raincoat. Well, not that much needed, but we did want to get her something to wear in the rain, as she's rapidly growing (3 feet tall and rising) out of her existing assortment of coats, and they're not all that waterproof. So, with April showers coming and all, we got Dear Alex a raincoat. I should probably say The Raincoat - the definitive yellow slicker with a matching hat that she can wear for the next year or so, or until she decides she's over yellow. It's astonishing how excited she got over this yellow (it's her favorite color) raincoat - form the moment she first saw it in Conran's (great kid stuff) she had to have it. We spent the rest of the day walking around outside, and yes, it did rain a little bit just to make it all worthwhile. Just watching her delight in this over-the-top outfit made me smile and think about how wonderful it is and how easy it can be to make this kid happy. She made a lot of people smile.

Top o' the stairs

It's been a while since we've had the chance to get away to the country for anything more than a "drive by" - a quick visit where all you really get to do is turn the house on, put the kid to bed, make a few meals, play in the snow a little bit, then close the house up and leave. I have all sorts of nostalgia and longing for a time when we can actually stretch out and stay for a while, to enjoy the splendid isolation. In a way, that's unrealistic, and it's not likely to happen anytime soon with the rush of work and the intense pressure and travel of the jobs that Beautiful Wife keeps getting handed. That's okay, I guess - because it's better these days to be working than not. But still, I sorely miss it - time feels different there, and Beautiful Wife and Dear Alex and I can simply play. A long time ago I wrote about the 'thing at the top of the stairs' that magically kept Dear Alex from climbing and playing there - eventually, it's powers diminished and I shoved it in a closet. Now that landing is a favorite spot, and Dear Alex has a wonderful time hanging out there, and delightedly dropping things from above - and we have a new game - 'catch the slinky' as she tips it down the stairs - hey, it works like magic! BW got the giant stuffed pink pony into it, and the kid goes wild. I am absolutely fascinated by the kids imagination, and the delight she takes in the silliest things, and the best thing is - it's contagious.

Happy Birthday Dad

Had my father lived to see this birthday he would have been 81 - not a stretch these days, but it didn't happen that way, and I sorely miss him. I owe him much for my character and my strength and patience, and I'd surely thank him for that if I could. He was a grand man who lived his life as well as he knew how, and enjoyed all that he got to do. After losing his beautiful wife - my mother and part-namesake to Dear Alex, he held on, but his life was never the same.
I know that he died from chronic, congestive heart failure - but at another level, he died from a broken heart. Not the acute pain and grief of immediate loss, but the grinding day-to-day without someone that he clearly ultimately loved beyond anything else in his life. I know how that might feel, just from how much I've discovered in the day-to-day that I love my Beautiful Wife. Not something easily written about, but you certainly know it when you feel it.
I dearly wish that my father had lived to see the wonderful little girl that Dear Alex is becoming - He'd have gotten a kick out of her spunky little self, and would have loved her magnificent hugs.

Elmo deathwatch day 30

Ever since we had the wonderful occasion to see Sesame Street live, which is an experience worthy of at least several blog entries that I couldn't possibly find words for... we've been living with the shadowy company of a helium-filled mylar Elmo presence that's hovered over our everyday activities: Grinning relentlessly down over the dining table, hovering mercilessly over the bed in mommy and daddy's room for a few days, drifting from room to room, hanging out in Dear Alex's room leering down with those loveable pop-eyes. He's been dragged around by his string, toyed with by the cats, and squeezed repeatedly by the kid and survived it all. Elmo's been around. Elmo's seen it all. He's definitely hung in there, through subway and cab rides and tantrums, but Elmo is finally showing signs of a little wear and tiredness beyond his years, and has begun to sag a little bit, his features distorted by a very slow leak and the wear and tear of being a simple mylar balloon subjected to the hands of Dear Alex. He hasn't been his formerly jaunty self for days, and tonight he was finally banished from her bedroom by Dear Alex, probably because he's no longer charming, but kind of scary looking. It's a wonder that he's lasted so long. I'm wondering how I'm going to explain his absence after I deliver the coup de grace and stuff him into a d'agostino's bag for immediate disposal.

The good day

Yes, she was in her PJ's until about 3pm, but having a lot of fun making "action art"
I swear she was channeling Jackson Pollock.











Dear Alex had a great time with daddy outside in the fresh snow.
Sweet and funny little girl. "Are you happy daddy?" Was what she'd just asked me -
"Yes" was the only possible answer.

I'd said in my last post that today was going to be a good day - I was right and wrong, but it hardly matters. I was up late last night, truly loving that cozy feeling of the 'house in the snowy woods' and the oddly romantic notion that you'll only get from someone from the city that doesn't have to deal with the pain-in-the-ass reality of it every day, something that occurred to me after a brief email exchange with one of my truly nice country neighbors. I had that remembered feeling from when Dear Alex was a baby of taking great care to turn down the lights, make the coffee and prepare for the next day as Beautiful Wife and Dear Alex slept through a beautiful, driving snowstorm outside. My "good day" started at 7am, with the distraught screams of Dear Alex, with a litany of complaints. After the hug, the diaper, the reassurance, and the cup of milk, she went sort of back to sleep at 8-ish, leaving me wide awake with that startled feeling of "what just happened?" I had a cup of coffee and watched it snow for a little bit until the dear girl was truly up and ready to be lifted from the crib into my arms for a ride downstairs. We played, and played and scattered things from room to room until it was time to clean up and start all over again, and have breakfast and and a diaper change and another and more play. The only thing missing was mommy, who slept and slept and slept, until I was actually beginning to worry. Just before noon Beautiful Wife joined us, and all was right with the world. Let's say it was a low-energy day, and we had a lot of fun doing very little but playing and painting and just hanging out at home, with everyone just where they should be. Dear Alex told BW that she was "pretty" today without prompting (really did come out of nowhere) and that daddy was "awesome" (I think she was trying to say handsome, as coached by BW) but I'll take it...
As I've written before, it's the little things and the every day accumulation of details and wonder that make it all worthwhile. Watching Dear Alex paint and play and make music and love her beautiful mother made today the good day I thought it was going to be after all.
And yes, we did make it outside to play in that beautiful snow.

Into the night

We finally got it together in time and space to be in the same place at the same time to get out, out, out of the city this weekend - a return to what used to be a normal routine. A frenzy of packing and stocking up on food and stuffing things into bags remembering to take important things like socks and shoes (and Original Bunny) for Dear Alex, and all the dirty laundry for Beautiful Wife and myself , and remembering the little detail things that are easily forgotten if you haven't travelled in a while. We did okay and finally got into the car at around 8:20. Beautiful Wife and I had a brief moment to talk before she succumbed to the chronic tiredness she still carries with her from Mexico, and Dear Alex uncarachteristically fell asleep before we hit the GWB. As we crossed into New Jersey, there was an easy silence as both BW and Dear Alex were down for the count, leaving me in that position of grave responsibility for driving the two most important people in my world into the cold dark, and snowy night. I was glad for the snow, and it's endless streaming past the windshield, a reminder of other times and other trips like this, looking forward to that moment of silence and repose at the end of the journey. It ended up being a long drive, but we got to step out at the end of it into a driving snow, fine and sparkling like powdered sugar, fresh footsteps in new snow, and into the house to put Dear Alex to sleep in a place she loves. Dear Alex, for some reason didn't have the same romance with the end of the trip, and the trip to the crib. She screamed and screamed and screamed - a jarring note to end an otherwise idyllic journey. To her credit, Dear Alex fell asleep quickly - I think it was just the break in her routine - Beautiful Wife has taken to our bed, and all is quiet as I write and the snow keeps falling. Tomorrow will be a good day.

Another New York Day

Beautiful Wife did not enjoy her time in Mexico, and she brought back with her an illness, and a tiredness that is beyond any of my attempts to care for her, so, so far it's been a dismal reunion. I'm frustrated only in that I wish that there was more that I could do to help, but BW, to her credit, will have nothing of it. The only upside is that today, Sunday, I took Dear Alex for a very long walk in the cold to keep her from waking BW, which under normal circumstances, is pretty darn funny, involving a poke to the eye, with an ever-so-innocent "are you sleeping. mommy?"
The answer can only be "no, not when you're poking your finger in my eye. " It's funny, but it didn't feel right for today, so out we went. We just headed west, for no particular reason other than it wasn't a direction we often went, and were rewarded with a number of discoveries in our still relatively-new neighborhood (two years and counting)- we live not too far from Carnegie Hall, so that if the guitar thing (or the ballet or the singing) ever works out, it won't be a stretch to go see the debut... Dear Alex and daddy had fun, walking wih the stroller and commenting on the passing cityscape as the neighborhod subtly changed, and the dear girl had to constantly stop and ask "what's this?" as she discovered more and more things that were painted yellow (her favorite color, by the way) as we made our way west. We found a fabulous sculpture just down the alley from Nobu 57 - a place Beautiful Wife and I ate once, a long-ish time ago. A giant bronze frog, about the size of a Volkswagen, that truly amazed and delighted Dear Alex. Despite the cold, we spent nearly 30 minutes examining and touching and pounding on it. After that, there was nothing else to do but finish the walk in the cold and go to the "pizza store" so that Dear Alex and I could have an early dinner together. Sometimes, I really do love living in the city, though I miss being in the country a lot these days - I need to see a clean swath of unsullied snow once more this winter - As Dear Alex put it "Snow is dirty" what's left of the snow of last Friday is black and yellow and rapidly (and thankfully) vanishing.

Home at last

The Perfect Yellow Guitar










The talking plastic fake camera

Beautiful Wife has returned from Mexico City, tired, sick and maybe just a little cranky - but that's okay, she's home. BW brought some very nice things home with her for Dear Alex, some very pretty little clothing items, but the best thing of all - a yellow guitar.
I haven't written much about it, but Dear Alex loves "YELLOW" if you ask her, it's her favorite color. If you don't ask her, she'll tell you. Walking down any street in the city with her has become kind of funny, as every other car is her favorite color - "Look daddy - it's a YELLOW taxi - that's my FAVORITE color!""It's YELLOW!"
The guitar is great, it's yellow and small, made of wood and has strings of green fishing line, but it's authentically shaped - a scaled-down version of a guitar. She's already spent a lot of time strumming it, in imitation of a favorite teacher at one of her day-school-music things, and has had a super time making up songs to atonally sing while plucking away randomly. She made up a song about the wood floor in the apartment, then a song about the carpet that somehow de-volved into Dear Alex's hilarious cover of "close to you". (I think that's her favorite song, though it might have been replaced by the theme from Thomas the tank engine.) It's fascinating watching her invent and make random connections and just go with them.
I love the guitar for a lot of things that I really believe make a huge difference -
Sure, it's a cheap (really) tourist souvenir-type thing, but it's handmade. It's not injection-molded plastic. There's no branding (other than the hand-painted inscription of (" Mexico") or cartoon character tie-in (Dora... would be just right for this one, but it would be plastic and make really annoying sounds, with pre-recorded exhortations to "play" in spanish) It's just a cool thing that Dear Alex already loves. No batteries and sound chips required. I love Beautiful Wife for finding this and seeing it for what it is.

I'm ranting about this because a very nice and very well-intentioned neighbor recently gave Dear Alex some very nice things including a "Diego wildlife camera" which is of course made of plastic and doesn't take pictures. It has a sound chip that alternately exhorts you to "take pictures" and mentions things like llamas and monkeys. I'd be more specific - but I've hidden the camera, and I can't remember where. It was driving me crazy. As an antidote, yesterday I gave Dear Alex one of the many obsolete digital cameras lying around the house, and other than showing her which buttons to push, left her alone with it for a day (the camera was miraculously unharmed). I'll post some of the results when I get around to uploading the chip.
I think I'm coming down in favor of the real. The unbranded, unmerchandised experience of doing things - like playing a wooden guitar and making up her own songs.

BW is asleep as I write - ill, exhausted, and in the getting-over phase of what sounded like a tough shoot. I've been there, so I'll do all I can to make it better.
She's the best.

Keep your pants on daddy

Dear Alex and her bunnies - that's mommy bunny and daddy bunny kissing.
I'm quite sure there's some compensating going on for Beautiful Wife's absence,
but she's having fun, and has been carrying them everywhere lately.
There's another post in this somewhere.










Dinnertime cute attack with Nanny J. Dear Alex is cracking herself up.










Gratuitous bathtime picture, but also, an interesting repeat of the obsessive
ordering and re-ordering of the cups. This went on for a while.



Three nights ago it was the cat in the night-time, two nights ago it was an astonishingly full diaper that woke Dear Alex at two in the morning, this morning she woke up uncharacteristically early for her usual sleepy self at 7:30.
What these three wakings have in common was that each time I went to get her, Dear Alex dropped the immediate complaint and the first thing she had to say was "do you have your pants on daddy? In two of the three cases, I didn't - but it doesn't really matter to her whether you're wearing pants or not. ( I should point out that for better or worse, in no case was I naked...) - It's just some weird fascination with ones state of dress or undress. It started a while ago, but seemed like one of those odd little things that Dear Alex gets obsessed with every once in a while, but this one stuck. It's been going on long enough to become kind of a family joke - It's a salutation and a goodbye that almost always gets a laugh. It's extended to Dear Alex greeting me with an excited "You have pants on!" or a question "Do you have your pants on?" (yes) "You have a shirt on and shoes and socks!" of course, this applies to Beautiful Wife as well. I'm waiting for the day when Dear Alex busts out in public with "Keep your pants on mommy!"

The kid is funny, as though to compensate for the absence of Beautiful Wife, she's been having serious cute attacks for daddy about three times a day - I mean lots of affection, elaborate hugs, punctuated by giggles and conversation about the weirdest things. She excitedly told me a story for about half an hour today, and while she's usually pretty articulate, I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about. It was fun to listen to, though I really couldn't do much but smile and nod. Sure, there's almost always the chance that she'll slip into a whining, cranky two-year-old at any moment, for now she's an angel.

Alex and the cat

From the archives: Beautiful Wife and Dear Alex, back when winter was fun.










Dear Alex is "so tired" that she must pretend-nap immediately.











Menacing hairy things, or decorative throw pillows? You decide.




I miss Beautiful Wife something fierce. It was that kind of day for Dear Alex, too, though she's not really talking about it all that much, but you can tell. She alternates between bursts of energy and crankiness, and has added a new thing - bringing her blankets from the crib, and flopping on the floor in a perfect demonstration of ennui. Dear Alex just lays down, as if to say "I'm so tired".
On the upside, I've been getting a lot more attention from the girl, with elaborate hugs and kisses and climbing on daddy - usually as she's asking "Are you happy, daddy?" You can't really say no to that.

I can relate to the tired thing, though, as last night we had "The curious incident of the cat in the night-time" again, as Dear Alex woke me up at 4 in the morning screaming "Daddy daddy daddy! Cat in MY rocking chair! Cat daddy daddy daddy!" There's a lot about this I really don't understand, because it raises so many questions. First of all, because we've had this happen before, we have an elaborate policy that's become part of the bedtime ritual: "Inner door open, outer door closed"
(Dear Alex has a short hallway leading to her room and bath) The door was closed. (Easy answer, cat was in the room at bedtime and I missed her in my usual "do we have two cats?" sweep of the closets and room.) Second, how did she know there was a cat there, and more specifically, that it was Gracie? It's one thing to say that, well, the cat made that cat noise (that Dear Alex loves to imitate - "MEEE-OWWWW, MAO!") But both of them squeak like that. It was dark in the room, so I didn't, couldn't say which one it was until I got a light on - It was indeed Gracie. Third, why did it bother her so much,( she likes the cats and spends good parts of her day chasing them around) and just when did it become her rocking chair? It's not like the cat was trying to climb into her crib and suffocate her, or claw her eyes out or anything like that.(Fortunately, neither one of the cats has anything close to a temper - and they're about as threatening as decorative throw pillows - which they kind of resemble) Dear Alex is just kind of territorial, I guess. I'm still baffled as to how she knew it was Gracie, and why it was important enough to wake me up in the middle of the night. It's one of those unknowable mysteries (that only Dear Alex has the answer to) that she's just not going to tell me.
We removed Gracie, had a diaper change and a hug and I eventually got back to sleep, just in time to wake up.

Are you happy, daddy?

From the Dear Alex archives - with the question face.
Yes, that's a big gusher of snot.


Dear Alex has a way of cutting to the heart of things - this is her new question, and it always makes me smile. It's not a philosophical question, and Dear Alex seeks no nuance. The only possible answer to the question is either yes or no.
Usually the answer is "yes, of course I'm happy." It really has to be, because I generally am. In truth, there are many times I'd sincerely like to talk about what might be making me unhappy at the moment she's asked the question. It's because this well-timed question usually has something to do with something that Dear Alex has done or is about to do that she knows annoys the crap out of me. It's her own way of saying that she knows she's doing something wrong, and is doing her best to charm me out of getting mad. I love it.
Every once in a while, though there is a certain seriousness, a directness to the question that gives me pause. Did she really just ask me that? Does she know what sad means beyond the immediate here and now of "Daddy's unhappy because there's trucks and cars and toys and trains and books and puzzle pieces and stickers and clothing strewn from one end of the apartment to the other, and there's Cheerios in daddy's shoe, and daddy went out the other day to get coffee and go to the store with a sticker on his face that he didn't discover until he was on the way home...". That sadness beyond the immediate is something I think that she knows of, but doesn't yet have the words for, and something she's working on, for better or worse. As I've gone on about many times before, she's a smart kid, and very little escapes her.
I know sad. I've been there, and Dear Alex seems to get it, to occasionally rise above her awareness of only her own bad self, to consider the feelings of someone else. I may be reading too much into it, but I think there's a good soul in there.
Someone once said of Dear Alex "She knows the secret of the universe, but she's not telling anyone."











"Alex stand on the blue D and you stand on da udder D"

We had a good day today - Nanny J. came back, and took Dear Alex outside for a long time to play on this oddly-warm February day, at one point the temperature (64º) was the same as Mexico City, where Beautiful Wife is for the next (counting down) 5 days. We played letters, a game invented by BW, that basically consists of Dear Alex telling me which letter to stand on as she does the same. She knows her alphabet, backwards and forwards, and has started to figure out that those letters make words. I swear she's going to be reading before she's potty-trained.

Day One - Alex's cranky day

Dear Alex was fascinated by the shoes. I wonder where she gets it.










Dear Alex liked the red box on the sidewalk.











But the yellow was her favorite.













"Shiny, shiny"










But the yellow was her favorite.












Today was a low-key day. Originally I'd thought that maybe we'd go to the country, to see what was left of the snow - but because of my own low energy and Dear Alex's iffy mood, I let that thought pass. Dear Alex was just a little out of sorts this morning when she woke up screaming for Mommy mommy mmmmooooooommmmy!, and the mood lasted pretty much all day. She was on her own little toddler roller coaster, alternating between sweetness and hugs and terrible rages. I'm as much to blame for that as I really didn't provide sufficient distraction (like a trip to the country or a museum) to divert her attention from mommy. I did manage to get her calmed down, and dressed and changed and hugged and fed - a little bit at a time, as getting her to sit and eat has become a real trial. "Daddy I want to play". No, eat. Then you can play. "Daddy I want to play". No. eat. "Daddy I want to play". No. "I don't want to eat an-y-more". But you haven't eaten anything, and you're going to tell me you're hungry later. "Daddy I want to plaaaaay". Eventually I give up, and turned her loose from the tyranny of the table. Of course, an hour later, she's cranky as hell, throwing things and whining - "daddy I'm hungry. hungry." We got it all sorted out, and Dear Alex spent the day grazing on snacks and fruit, and eventually went out for a walk in the cold. We ended up having a great time, walking, walking, walking. I took my old familiar route down Park Avenue, and we had fun window shopping for shoes ("shoe store") and money ("bank, bank") and fell into a game of finding colors in the city. We found Red and Blue and Green and "shiny" but best of all, "Yellow!" The kid's a freak, but I love her for it. We had to stop, eventually because of the cold and a big wet diaper, but after a little bit we went out again for a run to the grocery store, to restock on the essentials that I'll prepare and Dear Alex won't eat.We ended up having a lot of fun, and a good night and a long bath and a mercifully quick goodnight as Dear Alex was tired from all of the walking and no nap today. Note to self: There's a trade-off here: no nap= easy bedtime, but, no nap also equals full-on attention, and the ever-present edge of crankiness. Ultimately, we had a good day, but it was tinged with a little sadness, and little loneliness, and though Dear Alex and I disagree about some things, (no more Clifford or Caillou or throwing toys or not eating) we have common ground on one thing - we miss Beautiful Wife.

Beautiful Wife

Is away again tomorrow. Tonight was tears and a sad goodnight to Dear Alex, who is aready favoring daddy by some instinct, or insight that only she knows. I feel sad tonight, as BW is indeed going away again for a week to produce another spot in exotic Mexico. In other times, it might have been with me, but circumstances change, and with change we grow. The kid has been great, and I'm sure she'll do fine, it's been me that I worry about, and the dear responsibility of bringing Dear Alex through the absence of Mommy, mommy, mommmmmy! yet again, as BW goes and does her thing. This is to begin another minor blog revival, as I will try to write again every day about the progress of Dear Alex, and her astonishing way of cutting to the heart of the matter to ask "Are you happy daddy" when things get tough. "Why yes I am dear girl, but I miss mommy already..." Enough said. Bon Voyage BW, Stay safe.

Happy Valentine's Day

To any and all, but especially Beautiful Wife and Dear Alex. It's been a while since I've had much to say, though there's lots of stories to tell. Tonight, though, it's about love and affection for BW who's been nothing but busy lately doing the production thing, and will once again be travelling - this time to Mexico. Another week away, and I'm already starting to miss her.
I've spent the last weeks building my own website for professional reasons, in hopes of winning that just-right job, an amazingly dense learning curve, but I'm happy with the results. It's good to be adaptable, but it's been a bit of a slog. Too much time in front of the computer to fall easily into writing about the relentless progress of a precocious two-year-old. I'll get there - tonight, though, it's all about love. Happy Valentine's Day.

Golf Kamp

Despite my disavowal of such things, I had a sort of revelation and a breakthrough at some point this week about the game of golf. I'm quite sure that there's no latent pro-golfer in me, but I had the occasion to go out with some gentlemen for a nice walk in the sun on a very nice green, while randomly hitting a little white ball with a dizzying variety of sticks. It was fun. Nothing too stiff and formal, just a beautiful afternoon. After some consideration, I've come to understand what it is about the game that is so compelling, to the point that I, too have caught a bit of the fever - the compulsion to hit that ball a little better, a little more consistently, with more predictable results. I had the chance to take myself down to a nearby driving range to get some practice, to get that 'more predictable result', to work on the swing - 200 some odd balls later I had to stop, mostly because of the blisters on my left hand - there's a reason golfers wear those dainty gloves. I narrowed my club of choice down to a beautiful driver, a 3 wood(?) that seemed to have the magical qualities of consistency and predictability for me - when I hit a ball, it went, usually in the same direction, with some force and distance. I played it until I could repeat it like 5 balls at a time- Ahh, good. I won't completely humiliate myself on the next outing. I was wrong. What worked that day, really didn't the next and I have no idea why. Chalk it up to another of life's great mysteries, but now I know why people get so maddeningly obsessive about the game of golf. I will never think badly of another man's choice of pursuits again. It worries me a little that I feel so compelled to keep at it, to get better, to prove to myself that if nothing else, I can do this thing. Right now, I'm in golf paradise - or I would say golf kamp, or golf hell, but my opportunities are limited by the wonderful, but always demanding Dear Alex, who cares not a whit, and has no feel for daddy's compulsion to improve his game. Maybe that's a good thing. Finding time (or squeezing in time) for one's own pursuits has become a small obsession for me over the last few days, as I am certainly in paradise for someone like me - with the ever-present temptation of driving ranges and golf courses and even worse, a delightful general aviation airport not 20 minutes away. I did make the time to go flying, to re-acquaint myself with the ins and outs of flying a light plane, seriously, for the first time since Dear Alex came into the world. I have to say that in my two-year absence, things have changed. The laws of physics, and the actual act of flying a plane remains the same, and I can honestly say that I've still got it, but somewhere along the way the average rental aircraft has moved into the 20th century. The instrument panel looked like a freaking video game, and the throttle and mixture controls are all digital with a glass panel where the tach and other analog gauges used to be. The good news is that I can still fly a plane, the bad news is that it could take me a few days to master the systems and new technologies onboard. Change is good. Beautiful Wife, I think, understands my need to do these things, and has indulged me as much as she can, what with Dear Alex suddenly finding her terrible-two-ness. I wrote glowingly of her sweet goodness and her having skipped right through the terrible-twos to a terrific place - boy, was I jumping the gun. The kid's alright, to be sure, but has developed a leech-like attachment to either or both of us (with BW taking most of the hits, probably due to her extended absence) Dear Alex can't burp without mommy (or occasionally daddy), so it's been my loving duty to spare BW the constant on-duty status. So far, it's been a wonderful vacation in paradise, but well tempered by the realization that while the delights of grown-up recreation are tantalizingly close, they remain just a little out of reach. On the other hand, it's been a delight to watch our little girl grow wildly in scope and will, and to watch her delight in the sheer physicality of being outside with one or the other of us, from early in the morning until well past what used to be her bedtime. We'll probably have some serious adjusting to do when we get back to the cold grim north, but for now it's been spectacular to watch Dear Alex blossom and whine incessantly while doing so.

Dear Alex at the beach

Last year when we did this, we visited the beach but once, as Dear Alex clearly wasn't ready for the majesty of the ocean. I remember her crying, and tears as we tried to get her close to the water. She had the chance at the beach a few times over the last year, and has gotten a little bit more comfortable each time - but again, when we went to the beach, there was a bit of fear, and Dear Alex took a little convincing to even get close to the water. It's amazing how quickly she took to the ocean and now how hard it is to get her to leave - she could and would sit in the surf for hours, taking great delight in getting knocked over and splashing in the water as it recedes. I took her out in the surf today, and while Dear Alex hung on like she'd never let me go, she also giggled her head off each time we jumped up with a swell. I think she likes the beach - which is a good thing, I think, as both Beautiful Wife and I have separately loved the beach as children, and I can't imagine not having had that endless summer at the beach childhood. t's a testament to Dear Alex's passion that it took BW and I taking turns in the sand and water with her to satisfy her desire to play in the "big big sandbox" (the beach) and the "ocean". But there is one thing that I certainly never thought of - certainly not when I was a kid, about how powerful that big ocean is, and how quickly it could take a little peanut like Dear Alex. It should be clear by now that I'm not the most paranoid of parents - but that edge of splashy warm delight, and that rush of water has a power that you rarely consider unless you've got that awful responsibility of being daddy. This is a time when you have a secret reserve of watchfulness that you didn't even know you had.
The same is true, of course, with the swimming pool, though it is a much more controlled environment - I love the water, and I want Dear Alex to take the same joy as I do, so it's never about fear - it is about paying attention. Today Dear Alex made an unprompted leap of faith, literally into my arms, that made the daddy thing very happy, and very real.
Dear Alex sits on the top step of the steps with the handrail into the swimming pool, and says, arms raised, with a smile on her face "swim to daddy" I'm standing waist-deep in water a few steps away. The dear girl crawls from the top step to the second to the third into water over her head and pushes forward into my arms. Without stopping to check if I really was going to be there, or looking. Of course I was there, and of course I'll be there. We spent an hour or so at the same game - I don't think either of us was tired of it when it came time to stop.

Alex in wonderland part 2

One we arrived in Florida, Dear Alex seemed to sag a little bit - it took a little too much energy, and she really wasn't her usual spunky self. The dark circles darkened, and the mood got moodier, though her generally good nature remained. Dear Alex didn't feel so well, so there's a certain disjointed, lonely quality to the usual sure-hit photo-ops from this part of the trip. The dear girl really was miserable despite the loving and lavish attention from Grammy n' George, who should win some sort of award for being such swell grandparents. After consulting with a pediatrician, it was a pretty simple thing. A cold. (though I hardly approved, we decided that it'd be okay to try Benadryl - It did seem to help, and for a while her nose stopped running and she stopped slapping herself in the face. All we could really do was wait it out... and feel really bad for her. After just two days in the sun, and the pool and outside, Dear Alex has rebounded to the point that she's busting with good energy, and has to be dragged screaming from all of her chosen activities, be it the pool, the beach, or her golf. I'm not kidding - It's great that she's having so much fun fun that she tires herself out so completely that naptime and bedtime go without a fight. g'night dad (don't let the door hit you on the way out) g'night mom. See you in the morning. Of course, bedtime and going to sleep are one thing, but sleeping through the night is another. Dear Alex has been sleeping magnificently, but she's also been waking up early - early for me in any case. Two consecutive days of 6am, with Beautiful wife lovingly kicking me out of bed to go soothe the screaming child in the next room. It's been a piece of cake - A quick hug and a diaper change, then back in the crib. But Dear Alex doesn't really go back to sleep - I know, because for the last couple of days, I've fallen asleep (sort of) on the bed next to the crib. It's not really sleep, more of a half-doze, punctuated by slurps, snorts, silences, and bursts of chatter fron Dear Alex, as she sucks her thumb, snores, and talks to her bunny friends in the crib. You can't really sleep through that... mostly it's waiting in anticipation of the next odd sound or gurgle - leading up to the extended silence, which is followed by "poopie diaper, poopie!" Dear Alex will surely soon be ready for the toilet, because she's anticipated it two days in a row now - the false alarm, followed in a matter of minutes by the real thing. At least she's allowing me the joy of changing her diaper again. For the first few days after the return of Beautiful Wife, only mommy could do the honor. good for her I say, but damned inconvenient for BW.

Travels with Dear Alex

Note that this was written without internet access (can you imagine?) - It's a series of long-ish descriptions of what we did for an entire week in Florida, which couldn't have come at a better time.

We begin another adventure today, as Dear Alex and Daddy head to Florida for a break from the cold grey city. Beautiful Wife, who returned from Vancouver as promised last Saturday night, is still chained to the job she was out shooting. She'll be joining us next Saturday. BW is suffering as much as the rest of us from the effects of too much grey, too many germs (most likely brought home by daddy's little incubator) and too little rest. We're all a little sickly in one way or another - and I'm concerned that BW and Dear Alex are circling around another round of pinkeye. (what the heck - make it a round of pinkeye for everyone - on the house!)
I do feel pretty badly, though - our usually cute-as-a-button daughter is looking a little worn around the edges, as though she's been keeping late hours and maybe got slapped around a little by her ex. I mean to say that she's got some dark circles under her eyes, some seriously blotchy cheeks, and has more or less given herself two black eyes by repeatedly, compulsively, slapping herself in the face. It's a little odd, and I feel like a not-so-good-dad to have her out in public like this - but hey, it is self-inflicted, and trying to restrain her from doing it just makes it worse.

Daddy's still in recovery from a good, simple freelance assignment that turned on me like a hungry dog...It started well, but got complicated pretty quickly, and turned into what might as well have been an all-nighter. There's nothing like getting a call in the middle of the night, when you know it's going to be a very latenight / early morning - "would you mind picking up diapers and milk on the way home. We're out of everything." That's a statement, not a question. And yes, it is my responsibility to keep us in household supplies of all types - that's what daddy does.

My little freelance job came out just fine, but it left me feeling a little hollowed-out. But I must say that I do enjoy working, and the company of adults and the opportunity for problem-solving that it brings. (which isn't to say that solo travels with Dear Alex doesn't have it's share of opportunities for problem solving - it does, in spades.)

The first part of our journey - the getting up and out was fairly easy, and we had a great ride in the black car to JFK - Dear Alex is excited to travel, and was happy to talk about the terminal the airplane and florida we're going up in the sky. She got to see a subway train on an above-ground track, an of course decided that it would be more fun to take the train to Florida. Or drive. By the time we got to the airport, she was in full melt-down mode, and wasn't really interested in air travel anymore. Getting the refrigerator-sized suitcase to the check-in and my little darling through security was challenging. One thing to note, though, a crying toddler certainly eases the passage through crowded airports - but It's not the most relaxing way to travel. By the time we got to the gate, Dear Alex had either accepted her fate, or had simply tired herself out from all the screaming. With no more fight in her we had a great flight. Dear Alex sat on my lap for the taxi and take-off and fell in love with the whole idea of flying again. We had an entire fruit salad, a bag of bagel chips, and some animal crackers. By the time we hit cruising altitude, Dear Alex was asleep - and stayed that way until we began the descent. We shared our seats with a nice young woman, who I'm sure was sure she was in for the worst (seated next to the baby on the airplane - few things more hellish to anticipate) But it all worked out okay - as though to make up for the pure hell she gave me going through the airport, Dear Alex was nothing but sweet and delightful through the entire journey.

The day away

There is something about waking up in a house in the snow - a heavy silence, even quieter than usual for the country. And then of course I remembered that I was not alone - I had the ultimate responsibility for Dear Alex, her well being, her entertainment, her nourishment - all solo. I had the joy of waking up before Dear Alex, so I got to appreciate that silent cold not-quite-there-yet feeling as I made coffee and waited, thinking about lighting a fire, then about a book "A box of Matches" by Nicholson Baker, wherin the story (which goes charmingly nowhere) chronicles the thoughts of a man in the mornings over the course of using a box of matches. Duh. Did I say I considered lighting a fire? I didn't - only because I'd just have to clean it out and close up the house a few hours later, and there were other things to do, like start the pancakes, and figure out how the logistics of the day were going to work out. Breakfast and entertaining Dear Alex would be easy... And the day turned out to be a charm. We played in the snow, a soft deep dry cold weather snow, for about two hours. Dear Alex walked on the lake, fell on her butt, then fell down again on purpose in the soft stuff, and generally took the snow thing very seriously - pointing and gesturing and telling me that it was "white, and softee and smooth and cold." She pulled her baby-bathtub turned sled around for a while, then decided it was time to go in. I was frozen solid and glad to oblige. The rest of the day worked out pretty much as planned - a trip to the far-away local Wal-Mart for lunch, and a long drive back to the city. It felt like we'd been gone for days - but it was less than 24 hours. Sometimes you just need a little change. Dear Alex slept like a baby (forgive me) on the way home, and didn't wake until we were pulling into the garage. A nice warm bath, and she went to bed early without complaint - nothing like a few hours in the cold to wear out a two-year-old.
It would have been easier and far more practical to stay at home in the city, but then again it would have been the same as last weekend, and the weekend before, and the... I guess that the point is really to remember that it's about doing. What the hell. We had fun.