Poker Face

Uncle J came for a visit to hang with Uta and check out his new niece. He demystified the car seat and drove us all into Manhattan for Kizuki's first doctor's appointment. Once home he made dinner; chicken adobo, rice, and corn on the cob. With my being a retired vegan of twenty years, meat still attached to a bone and looking more animal than edible rarely (never?) makes it into the house. (This to the general dismay of my boys.) Uta grabbed a drumstick and dug right in. "Oh my god," he said, "I'm really eating deep. I'm eating right to the bone. Just like a caveman." Dinner was really good, especially since I didn't do a thing to help. Thanks J!

After dinner Uta had his first sip of beer. He liked it, a little too much. (It was Guinness.) He went running to the kitchen to retrieve a cup and begged and pleaded for us to fill it up. (We did not.) 

Maybe we are taking his new found all grown up big brother privileges a little too far? Nah! Lets roll with it and introduce the boy to poker and betting while we're at it. With the whole family gathered round the table, a big can of pennies, and Uncle J whispering strategy into his ear, Uta was initiated into the world of poker.  And he loved it. A monster was born right before our very eyes. We played for three hours straight. The next morning he woke up with only one thing on his mind. Poker. He spent the next two days in hot pursuit of a Royal Straight Flush. Which he got, the real deal. (Photo above.) This boy is scary.

9 days old

From Cucumber to Kizuki

 

Uta's first idea on a name for the baby was Cucumber. It was hard work to convince him that perhaps this was not the kindest of names to give his little sister. But finally he was able to see that a vegetable name, nice as a cucumber is, might give her some trouble growing up.

His second thought was Kiki, which he said just popped into his head. He then remembered Miyazaki's film 'Kiki's Delivery Service' and the name, for him, was cemented. Pop and I needed something more.

Kizuki evolved from there. The 'zu' is a respectful nod to a very inspiring friend, Yuzuru-san, Papa's 'Tokyo dad'. He has been a role model to us for a life led by generosity. 

Japanese being a visual language, the way a name looks becomes equally important to how it sounds. And with two different writing systems of its own, and the use of Kanji (chinese characters), there are endless ways to write any given name, and just as many meanings to go along with it. 

Once we had decided on 'Kizuki', we let Papa's parents decide how to write it. In the photo above you can see the Kanji they decided was best. (Kizuki is on the left, top to bottom. Uta is written on the right side, smaller characters, top to bottom.) The beginning 'Ki' means hope and the following 'zuki' means moon.

Thank You Grandma!

Though I never imagined it possible, Grandma managed to make it to our house with time to spare for the arrival of Kizuki. I guess that was the one and only benefit of a surprisingly long labor. (Everyone kept telling me the second one is faster and easier. Not so! But that's a story for another time, I'm not ready to relive it just yet.)  Grandma's presence at the birth was indispensable. She quickly settled in as Uta's birth coach, which meant escaping to the bedroom to play. They reemerged for the exciting part, my little peanut gallery, hooting and hollering with excitement at the appearance of the head, and then the great round crying face that soon followed. Kizuki was born sunny side up, lungs and voice in full use before her body even emerged. 

Grandma stayed to help us through the first week with Kizuki. She kept up with the laundry and the dishes and most importantly showered Uta with so much love that he hardly noticed or cared that my attention had settled on someone new.

Smooth Criminal (Link Here)

All summer Uta and I have been meaning to make a music video... it never happened, and its not likely to happen for a while, considering. Here's a little raw footage to keep Uta's fans happy until the big video debut. Click the title to link to Uta's performance on Youtube.

Kizuki

Kizuki 

born at home

September 20, 2009

8 pounds 6 oz.

20.5 inches long

A girl. 10 fingers. 10 toes. 

She's here!

Walk it down

The reach of love for this baby seems to extend beyond the four corners of the globe. So many are cheering her on, waiting her arrival on the very edge of their seats. The support pouring in is breathtaking and every ounce is felt and deeply appreciated.

We have ceased making any predictions or growing hopeful over subtle changes. Babies don't know their due dates, but they do know better than anyone when to enter this world. We are doing our best to simply trust in the perfect intelligence of nature. There is still time before any medical concerns need be addressed, and it is best for the baby if she is given her due time in the womb. (Can you tell I am trying to convince myself of this as I write?)

Of course it is a challenge to stand idly by... so I am doing what I can to appease this loss of control. They say walking is helpful, do they say that of everything? I suspect its just good medicine for nearly any and all to get a little more oxygen flowing.... but regardless it is advice I have chosen to heed. Today was sun drenched and beautiful. Uta circled me near and far on his bike as I walked around and around the park for hours. 

Spicy food is a myth

Still waiting.

Everyone is asking...

Everyone is asking. I'm asking. Even the self-proclaimed mayor of our block, always on his stoop wearing a big straw hat and smiling, is asking. Not yet? No not yet. Uta is accosted by every other person that crosses his path at school. Baby? Nope. I get hollered at by strangers on the street. Well intentioned friends proclaim, "Holy bowling ball!" Bowling bowl doesn't even begin to describe my new depth. But this baby is still well within her given grace period. Two weeks before to two weeks after the due date defines a baby at term. It is me who has lost all grace in dealing with the wait. The midwife visited us yesterday and said that there were things she could do... but she could find no good reason to do any of them. The baby is doing great. Her heart is strong, her size is good, and she's bumping around in there like a joyous puppy. Any interference at this point would be for my supposed convenience and not in the baby's best interest. Oh well.

Not yet...

Hyaku-Shiki Gundam Dekita!

Thank You!

Living with me is no picnic. My emotions swing between despair and fury, with scarce middle ground. I am trying to keep it together, but I know I have tensions running high in the house. My boys have been responding with smiles and encouragement. Their resolve to see me through this time is inspiring. I am very grateful.

Due Date

The due date has come and gone. We are still waiting. There is nothing left to do. Even my belly has been painted, twice, courtesy of Uta. I was so sure this baby would come early, but apparently that certainty was coming from impatience, not intuition. Its just not up to me and its quite a challenge to trust that things above and beyond simply know better. Babies are not ruled by those calculator wheels that midwives spin your fate on. What guides their development and eventual entrance into this world is not something we can pinpoint and schedule. But it does serve some solace (and eventual disappointment) to try.

Uta came two days after his due date.

Today is Jiji's birthday. No predictions, really. I'm just saying... a new grandchild would be a very nice birthday gift. We'll see.

Back to School

Uta is back in school. Today is day two. I have been holding my breath all summer dreading what the return would bring. The last few weeks of last year were nearly impossible. Uta did not want to separate from me and it took nearly an hour of coaxing everyday to get him to willingly stay in the classroom. Everyone pointed to my growing belly as the culprit causing Uta's new anxiety. Even Uta expressed his honest concern that I might not love him as much after the baby is born.

This summer brought little relief. I expected it was only an issue with school, but going with Pop to the carnival brought the same tears and drawn out goodbye. Even just going three blocks away to the studio without me was an emotional trauma for Uta. September was sure to be a living hell. Then something changed.

Uta explains it like this, "I had a dream that changed my life."

Uta woke up one morning recently crying. He had had a nightmare. In the dream, Papa H had left him in the care of a bad guy. (Uta interpreted this as what he calls a 'Ninja Task", a test to make you a master Ninja.) In the dream Uta rose to the challenge and killed the bad guy with a laser gun.

After the tears ended Uta looked at me and said, "This dream made me stronger. It gave me the power to go to school." This was not idle talk. Before school started Uta demonstrated his new courage on several occasions. When he went out with Pop for a few test-runs he gave me only a very cool nod goodbye before skipping off into his new independence. But school? Apparently no problem. There are lots of emotions evident in his eyes, but in words and actions he is sticking with his newly claimed power. Me and Pop are just in awe. This is not our boy, this is our teacher.

Last Day of Summer

Uta has not attempted to ride a bike in close to two years. At that time he was shaky at best, knowing nothing but assisted starts and crash landings. His bike was heavy and old, not worth the trouble of storing it in our apartment. Sadly that bike met its fate as a freebie on the sidewalk. Uta didn't care, he was a scooter boy. But on the last day of summer Uta hopped on his friend's bike at the park. Apparently he can ride. And he loves it. He is a convert. He has proclaimed bikes to be 'way' better than scooters and new wheels have now topped his wish list.

Maybe if...

Maybe if I eat an entire pineapple or the juice from seven limes, get on my hands and knees and clean the baseboards 'til they sparkle. Maybe then? What if I spend the entire day walking in circles around the block, squat in the shower while I rinse the shampoo from my hair, or scrub the bath to gleaming new heights. Would that do any good? Maybe I need to ride the bus around Queens or jump on a trampoline. Maybe she won't come until we solidify a name, wash all the linens, or go out for curry and order the spiciest dish on the menu.

Limbo

We are still waiting. Like standing in an open field during a lightening storm, waiting to get struck down. Too ominous? Perhaps. Maybe its more like waiting to win the lottery. Or more accurately a blend of the two. The only difference being, that regardless of how miraculous, frightening, and truly unlikely giving birth to another human being feels, it is imminent. In fact, at this stage I would be hard pressed to find a way around it. This baby will come out. Well, that is what people are saying. I can't stay pregnant forever, right? It is still so hard to believe that all these achey weary weeks, 39 and counting, will at last culminate in a sweet new face that no one has yet to lay eyes on. I've done it before, Uta is living proof, but then too, I couldn't fully grasp the reality of it until I held him in my hands.