Letter B

So as I was saying...

Sorry for the extended hiatus - my son is walking now and suddenly I no longer have a life of my own. He has also decided to go down to one nap a day and that one nap is never longer than an hour and a half (why, God, why????) so there goes my prime posting time. At night I'm way too busy popping valiums, guzzling box wine and passing out on the couch to be able to sit down and compose anything lucid. I feel bad because I love my public, my readers, all six of you, and I miss being able to share my thoughts and dreams. And my tales of sleeplessness and poop.

Did I mention Lowell is walking? Because he is. He can now stand up unassisted and walk all around the goddamn house. I mean apartment. I mean cordoned off babyzone of said apartment which probably amounts to about 300 square feet. Plenty of space. (It's all I can handle, okay?) Today I was sure that he had ingested a foreign object because there are just so many of them in the un-babyproofed office but I HAD to check my freaking email. I gave him a nice piece of cardboard (his favorite thing in the world) to play with and picked up all the really hazardous material and turned around for maybe three seconds. I look back and he's got a handful of paint chips from god knows where headed straight for his mouth. (I used to see those lead paint warning flyers they give you here in new york and wonder "What kind of parent would let their child eat peeling paint?" Now I know). I still haven't checked my email. It is amazing though - i can't believe that he is upright and just tottering around like a wee little drunk. When he stood up for the first time by himself in the middle of the floor it was as thrilling to me as the moon landing. One small step for baby, one giant freakout for mom. God, I love this little earthling. Seriously. I never really understood just how much you can love your kid. Nothing could have prepared me for it i guess, though I thought my narcissism might give me a glimpse. Ha ha. It may be tiresome to hear since it's a refrain of new moms everywhere but I love him more than I ever thought possible.

Various

A friend called this morning and asked me what I was doing. "I am negotiating with Lowell on getting a 30-second pee break at some point today." She agreed with me that my boss is a hardass.

This is a movie that I have been meaning to post (for like 2 months now). It might take a little while to download but it's worth it if you like babies and/or doggies. Lowell and his bete noir, Bella, finally duel!

Shofar, sho good

Rosh Hashanah really snuck up on us this year and so we did what we do best: nothing. Matthew felt guilty though so I told him to take Lowell, find the nearest Hasid and let him hear his first shofar. In our neighborhood on Rosh Hashanah there are literally hundreds of young Hasidic men walking the streets stopping people and asking them if they are Jewish. If you say that you are, they'll offer to say the blessing with you and blow a shofar several times. Bella and I hung back and watched while Matthew wheeled Lowell up to a pair of guys working Grand Army Plaza. They said the blessing and then one of them blew his shofar, if not a hundred times, then pretty darn close. Lowell looked up at him the entire time with a studious little frown and his trademark staredown gaze. I tried to will a camera out of thin air but, alas, I failed. You'll have to trust me that it was cute as hell. We walked home and Matthew reminisced about going to synagogue in Oakland during the High Holy Days and how good it felt to be there and how it was one of the few times that he felt absolutely at home. (There was also a bitching red ferrari in the story but I am not sure what that was all about). We both can't help feeling a little agony over how to make Lowell feel part of both of our traditions. I want him to be able to feel at home in a larger community but I don't know how we do that coming from dueling dogmatic cultures/religions that to some extent exclude outsiders. It's tough to believe in two one-true-faiths. It doesn't help of course that Matthew and I are total flakes when it comes to faith and religion. It would be easier if we were athiests. It would be easier if we were both the same something or very angry ex-somethings. Or if we converted to something entirely different. This is our cross to bear though and at least we can teach him a lot about a vital part of all religions: doubt.

Cue hallelujah chorus...

http://www.nyunews.com/news/campus/9719.html

Thank you dear lord for this one bright shining spot in an otherwise turd-filled week. Maybe we will stay in New York after all.