Treadwell, NY.

Alan and Elliot

Thanksgiving Day, 2012.

Variations on a Theme

When Elliot first learned the phrase "Thank You" he associated it with the giving and taking of objects:  sharing.  Logical enough.  Someone gives, you say thank you.

But the precise relationship between "thank you" and the sharing of objects was never quite nailed down.  So Elliot started using the phrase as a way of alerting us that he wanted to share with us. In other words, it was  a way of saying "Here, you take this."

Hence, car rides with a chirpy "Thank You!" emerging from the backseat, and us looking around to find him handing us a toy.

And then a funny thing happened.  Instead of "thank you" he started saying "you're welcome".

So yesterday we're cleaning up the living room and I hear "you're welcome, Daddy" and I turn around and he's handing me a crumpled up paper towel.

I'm sure we will repeat this ad nauseum with books, napkins, bananas, bottles, etc.

Some updates

What's been going on?  We all went out to Joanne and Drew's wedding last weekend.  That was a super-quick jaunt through Michigan (I was there for almost exactly 24 hours), and we got home not-so-rested and had to start a whole long week again.

Plus things have been brutal at the hospital lately.  Lots of patients, lots of consults.  It's tougher living an extra 10-15 minutes out on the subway, even though that seems like a tiny difference.  Hannah has been working from home because her office got flooded during Sandy, and that has its own set of challenges.

Kittens!  They are growing.  We still have all three, but we are definitely going to give away one, maybe two.

So if you know someone in the New York metro area who wants an adorable kitten, have them get in touch with me.  I should probably throw a few photos of them on the blog to whet your appetite, but I don't have any right now.

Anyway, today we moved the kittens from the first floor bathroom --- where they have been frolicking and shredding shower curtains and stinking up the place something royal --- to the back two rooms of the first floor.

Since these back two rooms also currently serve as Hannah's office, it remains to be seen whether the shredding will continue, with Hannah's documents taking the place of the shower curtain.

Albie Mose

In case you're not hip to it, Aaron and Daria have a great blog going for their son Albie Mose Page.

And even if you're just a pure Elliot-o-phile, right now the Albie blog is featuring a bunch of great photos and videos from Thanksgiving, so the entire clan is included...

Pinecone catch

At Two Oaks, Alan and Michelle's farmhouse in Treadwell, NY.

Anna Novick's Holiday Party

Which was awesome, by the way.  I spent most of my time having fun, which is why this is the only video clip from the event.

The unexpected effects of a home renovation

We're going a little nuts with this renovation right now.  We're sleeping in what will one day (hopefully in 2012, or at least early 2013) become an office.  Our bed right now is located about 20 feet from Elliot's crib.

At first this didn't mean much.  For the months of September and October, Elliot slept the way he did before --- all through the night.

But slowly.... slowly he realized that he could get us to come in and pay attention to him at night.  We were close enough that we couldn't just ignore his cries.  And so he began to cry more, and we, wanting sleep, began to hop up and get him a bottle to bribe him back to quiet.

It's gotten to the point where he now wakes up every single night, without fail, and demands a bottle.  He cried for half an hour last night, coughing and gagging he was so worked up.

The point of all this is:  we need our own bedroom.  With a door that gives us some space from him.  Here's hoping it will be here soon.

As you may or may not know, the walk signs in New York City are colored orange and white. 

The Don’t Walk signal is an orange hand.  The Walk signal is a white figure walking.

The unfortunate upshot of this is that when it’s time to cross the street, I say to Elliot, in my cheeriest voice, “Okay, let’s go!  The white man says we can walk!”

At Thanksgiving

Obama

Elliot's bedtime noises

I realize I haven't posted much video of Elliot talking.  I just got our camera up and running again, so hopefully you'll be hearing it soon.  Consider this a warm-up.  For those willing to listen all the way to the end, he's got a pretty good vocabulary:

Prospect Park Pond

Happy Thanksgiving!

Doctor check-up

We went to the doctor recently.  She’s our favorite!  An orthodox Jew who practices in Park Slope, she is no-nonsense but still fun.  Kind of like I imagine Nancy Pelosi would be if she were your doctor. 

Anyway, everything went fine.  Elliot started out quiet --- he’d seen her 6 months earlier and was trying to place her face.  By the end he had warmed up a lot, was smiling at her and saying a few words here and there.  

As she departed, Dr. K said “Bye-bye.  Can you say bye, bubby?”  

And Elliot said, clear as day, “Bye Bubby.”

Trick-or-Treating

A bedtime

We went down and had a halloween candy, and I let him watch a Blues Clues.  Then we came upstairs and changed into a fresh diaper and PJs, and I said, “Okay, let’s go get a baba and go to sleep.”

And he freaked out.  Just lost it.  Started crying, sobbing, wrecked.  Standing there in his little footies in the middle of the living room.

“What’s wrong?  It’s bedtime.”  He couldn’t reply.  He was adrift.  What was this?

He stared up at me, unable to formulate.  Then he pointed at the grownup bed.  “Snuggle,” he said. 

“You want to snuggle?”

He nodded emphatically. 

“Okay, we’ll go down and get a baba, and then come back and snuggle for a few minutes before bed.”

While we were downstairs at the sink, I said “Do you want to read a book while we snuggle?”

“No.”

“No book?  Just snuggle?”

“Just snuggle.”

So that’s what we did.  Snuggling means lying next to each other in bed under the covers. I plopped him down and lay next to him, and for a few moments we stared at the ceiling silently, listening to the sound of milk burbling through the rubber nipple.  

“Dada.”

“Yes?”  I looked over at him. 

He waved his impossibly adorable hand at me. “Hi dada.”

“Hi Elliot.”

We listened to the sound of the milk for a bit longer.  “Milk,” he explained. 

“Yes.”

He pointed at the ceiling.  “Light bulb.  Light bulb.  Light bulb.” 

“Yeah, there are light bulbs in all those sockets.”  He nodded seriously. 

“Okay, time for bed.  Are you ready?”

“No.”  But he let me lift him without protest, and kissed me as I put him down in his crib. 

I don’t know why he wanted to do this.  He’s never asked for it before.  But it meant a lot to me, far more than I might have expected. 

Why is it so touching to me that my son would want to hang out for a few minutes before bed?  I don’t know.  

But that’s parenthood I guess: you can’t explain it to someone who hasn’t experienced it. 

Elliot is Cool

Or at least he wears cool clothes sometimes...

While eating my morning muffin

God, I get so desperate for a little Elliot-time after a long day of work.  It's been brutal at the hospital recently, leaving for work at 6am and getting home after 7:30.  And to walk in the door and see Elliot pretty much ready for bed is heartbreaking.  I run over and hug him and read books to him, and I want to play with him and tickle him and grab him by his little legs and wrestle with him all at once, all in the fifteen minutes I have before he goes to sleep.

What's so mind-blowing about this hunger to spend time with him is the change from when I spend all day with him.  When Hannah went to Oregon for the weekend it was tough to spend the whole day with him --- not just keeping him from killing himself, that part has become second nature.  It's the emotional demands he takes on you.  He constantly wants you to give of yourself, to play with him, to jump with him, to explore with him, to be curious with him.  He knows when you are faking it, and he will not tolerate it.  You can't phone it in, if you're playing legos with him you have to REALLY get excited about the legos or he'll just move on to something else.

And the fact that you can't fake it makes caring for him exhausting.  An 8-hour day alone with him in incredibly draining.

But I'd much rather have 8 hours than the 15 minutes I got yesterday.  And that I will probably get today...