Favorite Things

For Santa and Rudolph

Christmas Spirit

I had hoped to get an earlier start, but by the time we managed to get out the door, in search of our tree, it was already dark and snowing. The sidewalks were covered with a heavy dusting of white and the falling snow sparkled under the glow of street lights. Everything ugly about our neighborhood faded into the shadows. With a fresh cloak of snow the city is simply beautiful. And quiet. Nature is the great equalizer. You don't need money to have the snow fall on your face, fill up your boots, and remind you that this life, the only one we have, is perfect. And so Uta and I (with Kiki tucked in her sling) set out on foot, in the dark of night, in a snowstorm, with a very special quest at hand, to find the perfect tree.

Uta wanted a tree exactly the same size as himself. Papa H was working late and could not help with the hauling. I of course had the baby to hold. So I told Uta he could have any tree he liked, as long as he could carry it home by himself. Backed by a month and a half of karate training, Uta felt powerful and strong, and eagerly accepted my terms.

It was love at first sight, from across the street, in the dark. "That's the one!" Which one? Where? As soon as the crosswalk light changed Uta made a beeline for it, greeting the poor thing in a hug that nearly took down the whole lineup of trees. The lady from the shop came out to help us. She complimented Uta on his fine selection and told me the price.

Uta carted the tree back, five long blocks, on his shoulder, without complaint, stopping now and then to switch sides and catch his breath. He sang christmas carols all the way, mixing up the words and melodies, but belting out a christmas spirit that could stir the hearts of any and all, even the toughest of Scrooges. Even me. At one point Uta turned to me and declared, in all earnestness, "It really is the most wonderful time of the year." At that moment I felt just like the grinch did at the end of the movie when his heart grew three sizes bigger.

"He puzzled and puzzled till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!

I could rant for hours about all that I wish was different in my life. Its a no good 'poor me' soundtrack that is causing worry lines to collect on my brow and muscle aches to dig deep into my shoulders. And yet for my children, the very same life that we share is rich and abundant. How can that be? This home that we share, the one that never measures up for me, is the home that will hold the most magical of memories for them. They don't need a snowstorm to see the perfection, they wake up happy and naturally delight in what comes. Our days are exactly the same and yet our experience is totally different. This is their childhood! And it is a really good one. They are surrounded by love. And though I manage to forget it most of the time, I am too.

Big News

Uta has announced (in all seriousness) that he will be taking an extended break from being a secret agent so that he can better focus his attentions on being a cook. This news is widespread. Several faculty members at Uta's school have come to me to express their udder surprise and dismay. Uta has been a secret agent at school since his early days in pre-k, and apparently its been no secret to anyone. But his watchful eye in the hall will be sorely missed. Uta feels bad about it but he must follow his heart, and his heart is telling him to cook. His specialty at the moment is sauteed carrots. His new secret weapon? Butter.

Rock and Roll

Hurray for snow!!!

Let it Snow!

To be continued...

Boys will be boys?

These days everything Uta touches somehow morphs itself into a weapon.  A half eaten piece of toast is not just a half eaten piece of toast, it's a gun. Nothing is off limits. Baby monitors, glue sticks, water bottles, vacuum cleaners; all guns. Is this a typical case of 'boys will be boys'? Or are these the early warning signs of some grave trouble to come? I'm concerned. Truly.

The Perfect Hat

Kizuki has already outgrown all of her newborn hats. She has several others that are slightly too big and make her squawk out in protest when they slip down over her eyes. The hat that fits her just right, and never elicits any complaints, is the one handmade and given to her by her Great Grandmother. (Little Grandma, as Uta is fond of calling her.) It is no small success to find the perfect hat for one's baby when facing months of cold ahead. Leave it to Grandma to keep this child warm! Thanks Grandma. The only problem is that Uta likes it too! One more, please.

Update #3 (Papa)

This is long overdue. But never the less, we are very proud of Pop for making his Chelsea debut. The art world is a better place because of it. And this is only the beginning. What's happening in his studio now makes me giddy with happiness, its that good!. Congratulations Papa H.

Update #2 (Uta)

Uta's belief in Santa is devout. He doesn't believe in God, he says, because he never received any letters from him. But Santa always leaves a thank you note for the cookies he gives him and because of that he hasn't a single doubt in his existence. When asked what else he believes in, Uta responds, "Cooks, of course, those I've seen." 

There was no fooling anyone with the Santa at the Karate Dojo's holiday party, he was skinny as a rail and had a mustache that went up over the top of his nose. The kids didn't care, or even seem to notice, they were having way too much fun. Uta is still loving karate, but even more so he is loving his new found community. 

I'm afraid our days of magical thinking are numbered. Every day Uta looks less like the little boy I know so well and more like a teenager. Yikes! But Uta promises he'll be a nice teenager. He says he won't wear his pants so low that his undies show and he won't curse on the subway. Well, thats a little comfort. I guess.

Update #1 (Kizuki)

Kizuki is three months old today! She is as chubby and happy and content as any baby could hope to be. Every day she reveals to us a little more of who she is and we are all totally smitten, even Uta. Uta's friends, who have little sisters, have been warning him that sisters are big trouble. Uta, as a result, has been reserving judgement on our girl. She has responded to his suspicions with complete adoration. There is no one she loves looking at more than Uta, her gaze tracks him everywhere he goes. Uta counted 14 and a half smiles that she gave to him within the first three minutes of waking this morning. Uta told me now he is sure she loves him. (He had been wondering about this since the day she was born. How can you tell when someone can't talk?) On the inside of the birthday card Uta gave to Kiki, it says, "I am lucky I have a good sister." 

Belly Boing

Uta says I currently look like 'Belly Boing' from the Japanese show Deko Boko Friends. Belly Boing is pictured above in the front row on the far right. Not a very nice thing to say, but a little bit true. Belly Boing has a big belly and his shirts are always a bit too short to cover it. (Me too.) Belly Boing is always hungry and likes to eat sweet things most of all. (Me too!) My belly, however, does not sound like a drum when you hit it, no matter how many times you try.

Night Duty

I'm going on three months now without decent sleep, more if you count those prenatal big belly nights of insomnia. I'm pretty tired. Some days, try as I might, I just can't blink the fog from my eyes. Last night Kizuki slept from nine to two, which, according to baby books, constitutes sleeping through the night. That doesn't exactly feel like a full night of sleep to me, but certainly preferable to the nights when she wakes up hourly. Last night Uta was feverish and coughing and needed his own night time parenting. Navigating through the house in the dark is effortless, my eyes easily translate the shadows. I refill the vaporizer, change a diaper, take Uta's temperature, get him some juice, resettle the baby, resettle myself, and sleep (a little). Shuffle and repeat until the sun rises and Kiki's eyes are wide and bright and smiling. The nights aren't bad, its the mornings that pose a challenge.