Pat's 90th birthday: Part 2

When we arrived at the party, Pat was receiving guests in her usual fabulous attire.  Purple boa is her minimum level of flamboyance.

But we discovered that there was a twist:  all the ladies at the party were supposed to dress like Pat!

Hannah and Daria quickly ran off to raid Pat's closet.  This was the result:

The gentlemen were thankfully spared this burden. 

A good time was had by all.  Or at least, no one called the cops.  

Day #5: Pat's 90th birthday

On Sunday we drove to Alameda for Pat's 90th birthday.  I kept the car entertained with showtunes and country western songs.   God Bless America. 

At first Elliot was shocked by my beautiful singing voice. 

But soon he was enthralled.  And began to grow a tooth in support. 

Later we both sang some classic Isaac Hayes hits.

Then conversation turned to the debt ceiling.

Luckily, we arrived at the party just then, right as it was kicking into gear.

Tomorrow:  The surprise twist of Pat's birthday

Happy Birthday Aaron!

By this point his surprise picnic in the National Arboretum will have occurred, so I'm not spoiling anything by revealing it.

I don't have any new photos of Aaron to post, but in case you missed his skill with Elliot, here's the original account.

Day #4: Eagle Lake

This hike was just Hannah and me.   It was much less stressful because it was half the distance, and we ate salami part way through.

Salami coming up soon.  Be patient.

Day #3: The Beach

Okay, I really should just drop the pretense that all of these things happened on different days.   At this point I can't even remember which day we all went to the beach.

Here's how it went down:

I’ve been doing this weird thing with Elliot.  About a month ago I picked him up when I wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he became fascinated with my nipples.  (It’s true that I do have abnormally small nipples; someone once tried to nickname me kitten nipples, but it didn’t stick.)

As I’ve explained in the past, Elliot’s way of exploring a new object is to extend his middle finger and poke at it.  He did this to my nipple, and for some strange reason I said “boop!” I have no idea why I did this, but he immediately laughed.  Then he poked it again, and since I’m a cheap laugh-whore I made the sound again, and got another laugh. 

Long story short, now he loves it when I don’t have my shirt on, he instantly goes for the nipple with a gleeful expectation in his eyes, and I am more or less forced to continue this weird creepy tradition that I’ve erected.  

I don’t actually think this is going to create deep psychological scars that lead to some strange sexual fetish when Elliot is older.  But I guess that’s my irrational fear.  So please reassure me next time you see me.

Yes He Can

But truthfully, not very well.

9/11 anniversary

This isn't exactly Elliot-related.  And yet it seems deeply so.

I've be reading a lot of the coverage of the tenth anniversary of 9/11 circulating this week.  It was always moving delving into the stories of the people who didn't make it out, and ten years ago I remember being brought to tears a few times.  But nothing like my emotional response now.

Why is that?  I can think of one ten-month-old reason.

All of the "reflections" on 9/11 talk about how the events changed us.   We're so different now.  Nothing can ever be the same.  But no one ever mentions the simple fact that we would have changed regardless of the events of 9/11.

High school kids now have careers.  Immature twenty-somethings are now married with children.  Parents are grandparents.

How have I changed?  I can't read stories about widowed mothers and orphaned babies.  I mean, I can read them.  But halfway through the page starts shaking and my eyes blur up.

In his recollection of the days after 9/11, Roger Cohen did me in with this sentence:

A woman searching for her lost husband had tacked to a wall an ultrasound showing an unborn child who would now grow up fatherless.

So if you saw my crying in a public place for no apparent reason this week, that's probably why.  (If you'd like to do some crying of your own, try here and here.)

So in addition to asking how 9/11 changed us, we should also ask:  How have the changes in ourselves affected the way we look at 9/11?

Tahoe Day Two: The Boat

Okay, after an extended break, we are returning to our August Tahoe trip.  You may remember that on day #1 we took an overlong hike to the tiny Lake Genevieve.  On day #2 we realized there was a much more convenient lake, in which we had access to a boat.

At some point we realized that Elliot couldn't swim:

He could drive a boat however:

Later I waterskiied:

Apparently others skiied also, but no photographic evidence was obtained.

There's just some stuff I want to write down here so I don't forget it.  Like how he is filled with joy.  He was in the bath recently, and Hannah started pouring water from a cup . The tube of cascading water looked like a solid column so he tried to grab it.  When it seemed to disappear between his fingers, he was flabbergasted, delighted, amazed.

And here's the best part:  I sat there at the edge of the tub and thought, "That IS pretty incredible!"  For an instant I was genuinely amazed by how water can take so many forms.  Elliot's ability to take me back to that sense of wonder and curiosity is much more powerful than I'd expected.  It's pretty great actually. 

Here's another one: Smiling.  Elliot is great at smiling.  When he's in a good mood he smiles at people full strength, with a gale force, a gigantic thousand-watt smile.  He can charm the most ornery cynical NYC strap-hanger into a grudging chuckle.

And here's the interesting part --- I just recently noticed this --- he smiles at people regardless of whether they are looking back.   As adults we don't really do this.  We may smile honestly, genuinely, when we are truly happy.  But it's almost always AT someone.  When was the last time you put a huge grin on your face when you were alone?

When we adults smile at our loved ones we are, at some level, doing it FOR them, in full knowledge that they will derive pleasure from it.  Elliot doesn't do that.  He smiles purely for himself.  He smiles because he's happy, there's no other reason.

For Shame

I apologize:  I was in the middle of writing about a post about how we would be in the Catskills for Labor Day weekend without internet.  And thus no blogging.  But I forgot the cardinal rule of blogging: you have to click "Publish Post" if you want to publish your post.

Anyway, I will try to clear the backlog of vacation photos soon, along well as a number of other adorable pics.

Thanks for your patience...

Learning to Crawl

Watching elliot learn to crawl is like watching a glacier move.  

First he learned to sit.  Then he tipped forward and put his hands on the ground in front of him.  But his legs were still in front of him, which was an obstacle to crawling. 

Now, in the past few weeks he’s started moving one leg out to the side, while keeping the other tucked forward against his belly.  So then when he goes forward on his hands it looks like he’s holding some lotus blossom yoga pose.  

And the latest development, in the last few days, is that when he goes up on his hands, that leg tucked against his belly is starting pop backward into standard crawling pose. 

Hannah and I having been getting way too worked up about this.  When he gets into the crawling post we let out wild shouts, which freak him out, and he drops back into a sitting position. So once we can control ourselves he’ll probably start crawling.