Princesses with Frogs, Ponies with Wings

I've recently finished dozens of books. The one advantage of being underemployed is plenty of time. And libraries are one of my favorite uses of free time. Arkaedi knows the poetry section better than most three year olds, I would imagine.

One book in particular, called Cinderella Ate My Daughter, is a light, poppy, conversational book about a woman (Peggy Orenstein) who has a little girl. This little girl is enamored of princesses. Specifically, the trademarked Disney Princess line. This book is my first exposure to this culture. Somehow, perhaps due to her age or our peer group, Arkaedi has no interest in princesses. Having lived in either Seattle or Ithaca, I am surrounded by parents who closely monitor what their children watch and read. There is an across the board tendency to avoid commercial toys and games. I don't think anything of that stuff, really. To me it's a relic of the past. I even call her "Princess" sometimes, but she doesn't usually respond. She prefers Arkaedi. Or, as she says, "Unkaedi." I hope that she is just pronouncing it incorrectly, but perhaps it's a code word, and she is actually a changeling. Maybe the real Arkaedi is in fairyland.

Today I had my first taste of what could be in store for me. We were at a friend's party, for a little girl Arkaedi's age. The theme was unicorns. "Ponies!" Arkaedi immediately exclaimed. This was awesome. She even got a goody bag that included her own unicorn toy. We got into a discussion about unicorns, pegasus, ponies... but she didn't care. They were all ponies. "You call them that! I say they are ponies with wings! Ponies with horns!" She will have no dictionary nazism. Things are what she says they are! I actually came out of the conversation a little excited about unicorns, no matter what we were calling them. Which is strangely embarrassing.

I loved the unicorn party, because it was not exclusively corporate. They weren't a trademarked type of unicorn (Sorry, pony with horns). They were just fun magical toys, and the kids were enamored. The imaginative play was there, the ubiquitous scripting that invades most children's activities was avoided. It was great.

The one thing that really sticks with me from the Peggy Orenstein book, however, is the association of looks with a girl's value. Beyond the corporate shilling, which I think I can mitigate to some extent, there is the larger problem of "Princess" being code for thin, white, and perfect. This is a lot harder. For one, my normal nickname for Arkaedi is Pretty Sue. Sure, I tell her she is smart, and strong, etc. Which research does indicate is very important to avoiding some of the traps of self esteem being tied to looks. But I still call her Pretty. Many times a day. As if enforcing the concept of pretty as central to her being. Or, more accurately, focusing everyone on her looks.

And the other side of the problem for Arkaedi: She IS pretty. She is really gorgeous. Everyone says that about their kids, of course. But Arkaedi is prettier than a lot of kids. Her big blue eyes, her amazing hair... these are going to get her attention. At three, she doesn't know that. She doesn't seem to even know what pretty is, in truth. She says I'm pretty, which is a sure sign that the concept is not sinking in. Whatever I am, it is most certainly not pretty. I have never occupied the same general area as pretty. Scruffily handsome, maybe, on my best day. But Arkaedi has learned that pretty means smart, beautiful, awesome... whatever she feels like. Pretty is Pony with Horns, not Unicorn.

I wonder how I can hold on to that idea. Or if I should abandon calling her Pretty. Switch to some other nickname. I can certainly come up with a great nickname, if I need to improvise. Something that tells her how powerful, amazing, courageous, charming, and wonderful she is. Something that tells her that when I'm sad or confused or feel like a failure all I need to do is look at her to feel like life is perfect. Something that tells her that I need her to be her, with all her heart, every day of her life.

I'm sure I'll come up with something good. Then she'll change it if she wants. That's Unkaedi.

My Crazy!

Arkaedi Sue has catapulted into the terrible two Hall of Fame this week. She has thrown water, pooped on the floor, and made our frequent trips to Wayward a challenge in Pretty management. Today she ran around and made trouble, then went to the zoo with our good friends Tiffany and Wade. They said she was perfect. So the craziness is just for me.

This morning she came screeching into my room, "Papa sleeping!" He was, Pretty Sue. Now he isn't. Later was the floor pooping incident, which I admit was partly my fault. She came to the door while I was getting out of the shower, and said "My poopy!" as she frequently does. Well, I didn't move fast enough, and she took off her pull up and pooped on the floor. My poopy indeed.

She always is intense. She always screams. Sometimes, like now, she is asleep. I imagine her in the future, though, using this intensity to her advantage. She'll be in her thirties when the genetically altered supermen like Khan take over. She can be a fighter pilot. Her dialogue alone will make it worth all the trouble. Plus, she'll destroy Khan before he has a chance to bother Kirk and crew.

"No, Khan! You bad! My nice! Fire!"

Arkaedi Sue Arrested

This is a mug shot taken earlier today when Arkaedi Sue (aka Pretty Princess, Pretty Pretty, Little Beef) was taken into custody for multiple counts of extreme cuteness. She was wrapped up in pajamas and brought home at approximately 8pm, Seattle time.

Here she is wearing bear ears in a blatant attempt to be cute. The pink dress is icing on the cuteness cake. Her father has been arrested as an accessory to the dress crime. (Not pictured: really cute tights and even cuter pink boots.) This photo was taken at the PRC, where she purportedly engages in multiple acts of cuteness a day.

Below she is seen using her cuteness to destroy Ariel, which is either a crime or not vegan. It is unsure what she is attempting in this photo, but judging by Ariel's hair, it can't be good. Ariel is just one of many long haired dolls gazed at cutely in her two years of crime.

This known menace to society is now safely under house arrest. When reached for comment she threw the phone down on the ground, then could be heard in the distance saying, "My nice! My nice!" A plea of not guilty by reason of red hair will be entered on her behalf.

Arkaedi Day

It' s been two years since Arkaedi Sue was born. It doesn't feel like that much time has passed. I remember bringing her home from the birth center as though it was moments ago. Even more than with Viri, her first two years have flown by me. I can't believe my baby girl is walking and talking. (Today: "My birthday tomorrow!" "No, it's today." "My birthday tomorrow!")

Perhaps it's just that I'm not having anymore kids, or that she's my only daughter, but I don't think I'll accept her growing up the way I can accept Viri. He's my oldest, my son, and I have dreams for him as a man. Arkaedi will be a lovely woman, and have her own success, but I don't have the clarity with her that I should. Perhaps that will come with time. More likely, however, I am doomed to be one of those fathers who always see their daughter as a baby. I suppose as long as I maintain and awareness it isn't necessarily a problem. I don't imagine I have a choice either way, so me and Pretty will have to make the best of it.

I asked Arkaedi what she wants me to say on the blog, since it's about her. She said "My birthday tomorrow!" Happy birthday Pretty. Today.

Terrible Not Quite Twos

We have entered that dreaded phase, the terrible ego maniacal twos. Arkaedi Sue is a demon on wheels. (When... when she is on wheels. Usually she's a demon on feet.)(Actually she's a demon in awesome pink boots. Perfect.)

In a few short seconds, she scratches Viri, knocks over his soy milk, runs into the computer room and deletes something, then does a victory dance. I don't even know how she moves so fast. She must have planned out the attack in order to execute it so ruthlessly. It's deadly efficiency from someone who is three feet tall and twenty five pounds. (Viri hugged her and said he still loved her. He's a trooper.)

I remember this stage with Viri. It was the "never again will I have children" phase. Now, knowing I probably won't be having any more, it is both more and less frustrating. I'm anxious for it to be over, but I'm sad, too. They're only irritating in this special way for a short time. Which sounds sarcastic, but it isn't.

Arkaedi is going through this sooner than Viri did. I guess it's a combination girl/second kid thing, but she is terrible a few months before two, and he was terribly a few months before three. Maybe Viri just saved it up. Maybe I didn't notice it as easily. I surely notice this; the milk stains and scars on my son are a record.

At least she's cute about it. She gets away with so much more due to her cuteness. After dumping her food out for the third time the other day, I growled at her in exasperation. She ran over to the doorway, threw her hands in the air, and shouted "Me!" at the top of her lungs. Which, now that I think about it, means she wins. I have a feeling I'd better get used to that. Pretty Pretty is born to be a winner.

The Mighty O And Doctors

Arkaedi Sue had a well child visit today, including a blood draw. She wasn't terribly happy with it, but she's a trooper. To make the entire event less of an ordeal, we stopped by Mighty O Donuts on the way. That made everyone, especially me, very happy.

I tried a strange and wondrous thing while I was at Mighty O: I had a donut without coffee. There was no coffee for me, just a donut. It was odd. Not entirely unpleasant, but a little like swimming while trying to use only one arm. It works, but you wonder why you are even trying it.

Of course I'm glad to be cutting back on coffee. I certainly needed a break. I do feel better overall, and I believe in cultivating good habits while I have the patience and energy to make the effort. And there is always tea.

Arkaedi Sue did so well at her appointment. She is such a stable kid. It's amazing how little phases her. She got her blood drawn, and fussed for a minute, then waved goodbye to Dr. Tracy as we left. Viri would have been crying for six days. It's nice to have a kid who is as calm as her. I need the break.


Fall officially arrived here, and it's warm and sunny. I used the nice day to clean out the car, and get ready for a return to work. Overall, it was a very successful morning. There were donuts, doctors and cleaning. I'm ready for another few days of flying solo with the little ones.

Arkaedi And Balance Of Loveliness

I try to treat my children fairly. I think I succeed, by and large, but there are a few areas where I am unsure of how to proceed. I don't want to treat them as interchangeable kids. I want to acknowledge and respect the differences, both as individuals and as a girl and boy, respectively. I have a feeling this will become even more important as they grow, and the similarities and differences are highlighted.

I get some strange looks when I talk about Viri being a big boy, or Arkaedi being pretty. I imagine some people are worried that I am projecting stereotypical roles upon them. To a certain extent, perhaps I am. I'm not always sure where to draw the line between traditional and repressive. I'm not sure I am even capable of doing so. I am a product of my culture, good and bad. I don't think a philosophical response to a visceral emotional stimulus is even a good idea. I try and mitigate the worst of my culture. I was lucky enough to be raised without racism or other hateful influences in my home, so I don't need to raise my own children above that. My parents did that work for me. To what extent do I need to work on my gender bias?

I know I will love my kids no matter what they do, or how they choose to live. I will, when they are old enough, try and explain to them I am pushing them to be the best they can be, not necessarily what I or anyone else imagines they should be. I hope they'll understand that. I have nothing but love and respect for my parents, for all the work they did. They wanted me to be me, and even when they didn't get what I was doing or why, they loved me. I imagine my kids will see the same thing, and forgive me if I do make mistakes. I'm sure I will; I'm not perfect.

A funny story about how I talk to my kids: Viri and I were leaving the restroom at a public park, and he had been pretending to be a chicken all day. I got yelled at several times when I said his name. "I'm a chicken! Call me chicken!" So, as we passed this group of grandmothers, I urged him along, "Come on, chicken!" "I'm not a chicken!" he yelled. The grandma's scowled at me. Great, thanks Viri, now it sounds like I was mocking your cowardice! They think I'm a jerk!

Now when they hear me calling Arkaedi a pretty princess they're really going to hate me.

She Makes Everything Cuter

We've had some time off this week, which means a lot of time with the kids. I really enjoy getting a chance to just watch my children interact. One advantage of having kids so close in age is seeing the familiarity and comfort with which they play. Viri feeds her from his plate without missing a beat, and she talks about him when he's in the other room.

Today she's at home with me while Mama and Viri are at the farm picking vegetables and riding tractors. She's rocking and singing a song about Mama and Viri. It's part of her magical ability to make everything cuter. We can just say the simplest thing, and she'll make it cute.

Viri was always interesting. He would say things funny, or strange. She says things cute. Right now she gathered up all of her trains, telling them each goodnight, and laying down to go to sleep. I told her goodnight and she blew me a kiss. She doesn't let up the cuteness for even a second. It is worth a trip to Seattle just to spend a few hours watching her be cute. "Papa kiss? Kiss me? Mama outside?" Everything is a cutely phrased question spoken at a pitch unimaginably high. Awesome.

Have a nice nap, Pretty. Wake up as cute as ever.

That Viri Is One Bad... Shut Your Mouth!

My kids had an amazing day. Arkaedi Sue was sweet and cute, talking up a storm about everything in one and two word phrases (Thank you, Papa, officially her first three word phrase, is amazing every time I hear it.) And carting around two babies. ("Babies eat? Babies milk? Thank you me.") Arkaedi now has said and done 1.46 trillion of the top 2 trillion cutest things in the history of the world. And these days she's doing it in pink shorts and an Ichiro cap. Perfection. Days like this remind me of how amazing my kids are and how much I love them.

We had a difficult kid at the daycare today. As in, biting kicking fighting difficult. (He was also the first kid under five I've ever heard call someone names. Names like 'poop-head' but still. How does he learn verbal insults? I've dealt with hundreds of kids and never heard that from a 4 year old.) Viri was the defender of the downtrodden. Viri stood up to him, protecting the other kids when he hit or bit. He told me once that he was going to stop him from being mean. "I'm going to tell him stop hitting or throwing things. And if he does it again I'll stop him." Keep in mind this is a kid much older, if only slightly bigger, than Viri.

What impressed me was that A) Viri never resorted to violence himself, short of one exasperated shake of his hands at the boy, and B) Viri seriously did not back down. Once, the boy was charging, screaming at Viri, and Viri planted his back foot and stuck out his arms, letting the boy run into him. It was as though the boy had hit a wall. And Viri didn't hit, or bite, or anything. He just held him there until he backed away. Then, he said, "I'm not going to play with you. I'm a little scared of you." You and me both, son.

It was a long hot day, and tomorrow J begins the three day board exam trial. It was nice to have a sign that we're on the right parenting track. I'm making mistakes, sure, but when push quite literally comes to shove my kids are alright. And that's at 3 and 1. Good job kids.

Arkaedi And Pretty Illness

We had one of those parent nights last night, with Arkaedi Sue puking on us and keeping us awake. It happens. Thankfully Viri decided to sit this one out, and after rolling over to see what the commotion was, cuddled up to his baby doll and went to sleep. That's my good lad.

Arkaedi managed to be pretty throughout, of course. The ability to remain pretty with vomit in your hair is incredible. I salute her commitment to the prettiness.

Things like this make me glad we are in the situation we are. I stayed home from work, fixed some oatmeal with an herbal concoction that Jaime prescribed, Arkaedi is napping, and we are sailing through the morning. Being mostly a full time Papa has some huge advantages, and flexible part time work is one of these.

I hope she is okay today. I definitely get into crazy father territory with Arkaedi. I can deal with Viri, but Arkaedi inspires an insane amount of protectiveness. Oddly, I worry about her less: she just seems so solid and strong. But when there is cause for worry, however slight, I get nuts. I've been monitoring her like an ICU doctor all morning. She finally just gave up and grabbed her phone and baby doll and plopped down in my lap. I guess she figured if she was going to be under my watch all morning she may as well just sit down and make a few phone calls.

So, back to watching over my sleeping princess. Get better Arkaedi Sue.

I'm Having Fun Fun, Old Man!

I probably have a lot of weaknesses of which I am totally and blissfully unaware. In fact, I am sure that I have. There is one weakness, however, that I and everyone I know are well aware that I suffer from: I am attached at the hip to my kids. So, today, Viri is off playing at the beach with a friend. This is a great thing, he'll have a great time, and I am reminded that I don't need to micro-manage my children.

For some reason, it's especially difficult with Viri. Arkaedi is younger, but she seems so stable. She seems so tough. She is my baby girl, but I sense her strength in everything she does. She even sits at the top of tall slides with a confident swagger.

Viri has strength too, of course. He just seems fragile from certain angles. He will do great things, I know. But he needs support. I want to provide him with all of that support and more. People don't always get him. He's odd, I admit. But I don't want people to confuse that oddity with problems. He is very sweet and smart. He is definitely an avatar of justice, and he wants to make things right. At three, that can be obstinate, or whiny. At thirty, it will be leadership. He's a better man than I'll ever be, and I want him to have the chance to realize that greatness.

As Arkaaedi Sue sleeps peacefully on me, I am happy to have this chance to let him go out and be an independent little boy. I want to write this down, to remember how blessed I am. I have a sweet daughter cuddled to my chest, a great and wild boy running around on the beach with friends. I also have, hopefully, the sense to let them go when they need to go, and shelter them when they need protection.

Alienation In Parenthood

I was lucky when I became a parent. I had access to some parents who encouraged our attachment parenting tendencies, and helped us find a way to work with our child, to help him understand the world and find his way in it. Viri, especially, needed this attention. Now, through strange work circumstances and new acquaintances, I'm around a lot of people who don't subscribe to our viewpoint. I'm beginning to realize how detrimental that is to us, and to our interaction with Viri. And, much as before, I am in a situation where I need to leave my current situation and find a place of comfort for me and my family.

Some of us make choices to be different, to be outside. Many people I know are comfortable with that, even enjoy it. I've never been that way. I want to fit in with people. I don't mind that aspect of my personality. I like it, even. I was outcast as a youth for being smart, and getting good grades. I was outcast as a young man for being contrary and rebellious. Now, I'm outcast for a parenting style that my job doesn't want to use. That's an odd one. It doesn't especially bug me, except that I started this job specifically to be allowed to be the parent that I want to be. Once again I made an attempt to fit into a space that either I misread horribly, or changed drastically.

My quote for these times that J gets a kick out of is this: Gravity pulls, and atoms spin around. Anywhere in the middle gets messy.

This reflects my opinion of the universe. I think it is an orderly place, on the whole. Humanity, endowed with free will, can try and make human enterprises, but they are doomed to mediocrity. The big picture all shakes out, but trying to control middle sized human things, and failure is often the result.

I want to do something that makes things work, for a brief moment, in the big picture. I think my dream job is leaping around like the character in Quantum Leap, taking care of little things so that the entire universe operates how it's supposed to. Everything isn't always fun, or pretty. But his job is to make sure that the whole tapestry looks right. There is something deeply satisfying about that show.

In a sense it's what I like about working with children. They are just little bundles of potential, and it's rewarding to work with them and see what happens with little positive changes. The frustration sets in when you hand them off to parents who don't even listen to what they did that day, much less follow through with steps to help their development. I understand parents have it tough, it's a hard job. I screw up a fair number of things with my kids. But I work constantly to give them the tools they need, and I never refuse to listen to something that might help me to do that. (Viri today: "You wanted to smack me! You're bad, Papa!" He's right. I did kind of want to smack him for pushing past Arkaedi and knocking her down. Perceptive.)

It pays off. I have two wonderful kids. Kids who deserve better than our current crazy schedule, and difficult parents. So, I'm listening. Next quarter is going to be different.

Well, That's It Then. Spankings All Around.

I'm a father. Ask me what I do, that's all I can think to say. I guess I work for money, too, if that's what is meant. Parenting is what I do. I'd like to teach again, or repair motorcycles, or play baseball for a living. I'd like to do various things, but the one thing I do every day is be a father. I lose patience, and I make mistakes. I probably make some mistakes that I'm completely unaware of, and will come out years down the road. On the whole, I think I do a pretty decent job. I would even say that it is something I am better at than most other things I have ever tried. I wondered if I would be able to be good at it, once upon a time. I don't wonder anymore. I don't pretend to be perfect at it, but I know I'm meant to be here and now, raising these two. And I am good at it. Certainly better than playing baseball or repairing small engines. I hope someday that my kids will agree. Despite the occasional skeptical look on their faces, I think they are okay with me.

The two big differences I notice between me and other parents around me have to do with what I want from the kids, and what they can expect from me. First, I have high standards for them. I expect them to be who they are, and behave appropriately. Viri was having problems today and I told him, this isn't who you are. You know better than this. He looked at me seriously, and said, "Yeah. I'm a big boy. I'm a big help." It's who he is, and he knows it. When Arkaedi Sue gets bigger, I'll expect her to be who she is as well. Parents sometimes look at me like I'm crazy when I ask Viri to help clear the table, or pick up the trash. I know he's only three; but I also know who he is, and what he's capable of doing.

The other difference is that I express myself. When I'm upset, it's clear to everyone. I pulled Taviri across the room the other day for a time out. Not roughly, but purposefully, and I was noticeably upset. I told him, I'm upset, what you did made me mad, and you need a time out to sit and think about it. I see this as a good thing. There is no confusion with me, no fits of rage. If he hits the baby, I am mad. If he spills a little water by accident, no big deal. I think people want to pretend a lot around kids, and not express honestly what they're feeling. I can't do that. And I don't think it would be healthy if I did, for me or them.

I see parenting as preparing the kids to be adults. I have no illusions about it, they are more important than me, they have greater destinies, and I want them to be ready to rise to it. They were born to me for a reason, and I have to accept that responsibility. People talk about doing anything for their children, but they don't set aside anything of their lives when they have them. I see parents trying to live almost independently of their children, and I don't understand that. This time in my life is about letting my kids grow, and guiding them. It's what I signed up for when I procreated. I'm going to do things for myself as well, of course, it's not healthy to neglect my mental health; but it fits in around them, and it's my responsibility to make it work.

I've talked a bit here about finding out what I like, and understanding my identity separate from the intellectual. My children are something I feel one hundred percent. There is no hypothetical that doesn't have me there for the kids, trying my best to do what's right. If I honestly reflect about my children, and what it means to me to be a parent, I come back to an image that I can't shake. It's a silly image, but I think of it a lot. It's an old grainy western, and the posse is riding out, strapping on guns and saddling horses. And the sheriff looks back at me and says, "You don't have to go, Barker. Stay home." And I scoff at him, pulling on my boots and picking up my rifle. "I'll pretend you didn't say that."

Walk On, Arkaedi Sue

It also syncs up nicely to Monster X's "Take a Walk." But that's a little much for a little girl. These are not quite the first steps, but third or fourth steps, definitely.

If this looks good and works, expect a bunch more video posts in the future. I'm really excited to start putting these up, and in Elvis songs alone I have an entire documentary genre in my head. (That would be "Crazy Children and Elvis" for the film historians out there. Like Ken Burns' but with more wiggling and less still shots of Stonewall Jackson)

Waylon and Willie, and the Pretty

Unlike the lad, Arkaedi Sue has developed quite the love of music. She is a big fan of Elvis, at least the rendition sung badly by Papa, and she absolutely loves late seventies country. We have done a good bit of dancing to "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies" and "Ain't No God in Mexico," which is no end of fun.

I really enjoy this musical period myself. There is a humor and self-awareness that I really like, and you know that they are just having a blast. Some of the most quotable and strange lines come from these songs. "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies":

[Cowboys like] little warm puppies, children and girls of the night.

"Ain't No God in Mexico":

If I'd never seen the sunshine then I would not curse the rain. If my feet could fit the railroad tracks, I guess I'd been a train.

Jennings got strange in old age, and rumor has it later took seriously goofy songs he wrote in jest, like "Okie from Muskogee." If that's true, it's sad. At least Willie has kept his sense of fun.

Growing up, I was surrounded by the dueling stupid periods of country music: 80s and 90s country, pop beats and stupid hats, with boastful songs and rich suburban kids claiming they were truly country, repeatedly, and had the mullets to prove it. And Vegas style, shiny sequined jackets and short hair. The Willies, Waylons and Johnny Cash artists were out there, I imagine, but they didn't trickle down from the smoky old pool rooms to my television in West By God. Which is for the best, I suppose. I like them now, and I can give them to my kids without any preconceived ideas or fantasies of my youth. I wasn't a cowboy, I was a bored child in the country reading comic books. Now, Arkaedi Sue can be a dancing child in Seattle, but there's plenty of room to pretend to be a cowgirl. Or an outlaw musician. She'll look better in the braids than Willie.

PS. That first image is Willie, pre-braids. I like the turtleneck. The hippies did bad things to you, my friend. Braids AND pot? Sad.

Child Juggling. Fun. Low Cost, Join a League!

I spend most of my time dealing with kids. Either my children or someone else's child is typically with me wherever I go. I enjoy this quite a bit, and it amazes me that most people don't. I had a bizarre conversation with a mother this week who was basically trying to find a way to find ways to keep her child away from her.

I understand needing a break, certainly. Kids take a lot of energy and time. But if I get more than a few hours away from my kids, I miss them. As they grow, they're going to have more and more of their own activities and hobbies, and my time will naturally decrease. That is the way things work, and it's fine. I look forward to being older and having my children live full and productive lives, and I don't regret that this will happen. But I can't imagine wishing that time away sooner.

One of the reasons I work with children is that I love them. They are so direct, and sweet. People sometimes think they are angelic, or pure, which I think is a big mistake. They hit and bite and scream too. But they do it honestly. There is a sincerity to kids, especially toddlers, that I really enjoy. The hippies who wish we could all just "be like kids" are pretty messed up, however. I'm glad I don't cry when I drop a raisin, or hide when I poop. I'm grateful to my wife when I bring up buying a new computer and she doesn't just scream at me or hit me and take the credit cards. Adult dialogue is rewarding and useful.

That said, I also don't get the people who want their children, or any children for that matter, to just go away. They are fun, and goofy and sincere. That's worth a little trouble. And they very quickly grow up and go away. That's worth the time.

Some of Viri's greatest hits so far:

"The poop was trying to escape. I said no, poop! Don't go back in my butt!"

"HA HA HA. This."

"People falling is funny. Butts are funny too."

"I left and you were sad and missed me and you cried."

"Hi, Haley! Shut up, Nick!"

Arkaedi Day

We had a nice Arkaedi Day, and got a few nice pictures of Pretty (despite the yucky nose.)She loved her present from Gramma and Bibi, and her baby doll from Mama and Papa. They involve her favorite pastimes, saying "Baby" and putting things in other things.

Tomorrow the work begins again. I'm not happy to be diving into our busy schedule, but I think I'm finally ready. Yesterday I did dishes and trimmed my beard; that's usually the signal that I am ready to get things done.

I have a large list of goals for the new year, a large and daunting list. One of the items I plan to start tonight, and I may be posting it here if I get it done.

Here's to a great new year!

End of the Year Recollections

The year is over. Pretty much. A nutty one here in Seattle for us, with moving and changes and planning of our future. 2009 will be the year of the Big Step, the beginning of our practice and our career, in essence. I'm excited and scared. Jaime is getting prepared, which is intense. I imagine if I were married to Eisenhower during the ramp up to the invasion of Europe, it would be startlingly similar to this. (Well, Jaime has nicer hair.)

This was the year of Arkaedi, in many ways. Jaime took off the winter quarter to care for her, Taviri had to adjust to the new baby. It was a tough couple of months, certainly, for everyone. Now that she's a year old, everything seems like less work. My job has gotten easy. I joke that Arkaedi was for me, that I needed her. It isn't really a joke, though. Something about her makes my life make sense. Taviri is my project for the world. I named him after someone who went out into the world and changed it, and that is his destiny. He doesn't even feel like my son, he feels like a little warrior waiting for his tribe. I'm the caretaker who hands him over to the tribe when they show up. I can see the movie version now; the actor who plays me better have a great beard.

Arkaedi, though, is for us. It just feels like she is going to be present in a way that Viri won't have the time and opportunity to be. Of course this may be totally wrong, it's just my impression of them as small children. I'm not writing his biography or anything. But you do get a sense from little ones, even children who I work with at the daycare. I'm curious, looking back after a few decades, how accurate my impressions will prove to be.

I'm excited about 2009. We have a collapsing economy, a new president. I'm starting an enormous undertaking, with my typical optimistic zeal.

Jaime and I like to play a numbers game with events like holidays and important dates. We play "which number is this?"

This is my 32rd New Year, counting the one when I was two months old. My 16th New Year with Jaime. My 4th as a father. It's funny when you put down simply like that. I have now spent half of the New Years in my entire life with Jaime.

Happy New Year 2009, everyone. Enjoy the year of the ox.

Get a Truck With Brakes!

Last night was a crazy one, a typical sick child insane evening. Taviri woke everyone up in the middle of the night vomiting and angry, and we had to clean and console and heal. I got the good end of the deal: me and Arkaedi holed up in the office with one of my favorite MST3Ks, "Space Children." She fell quickly asleep and I watched a fun film with strange children possessed by a benevolent space blob.

This movie has one of my favorite examples of poor communication in film history. There is a scene where the children have magically disabled a truck, and the driver starts to lose control. The passenger yells, "Stop it!" in an annoyed voice as the driver starts to crash. Not helpful, my friend.

Servo helpfully points out, "Next time get a truck with brakes!" This has become an oft repeated phrase between Jaime and I. We have observed that a lot of fights begin with a 'get a truck with brakes' statement. So many fights between couples start with frustration that is not totally warranted. When you get mad at someone for doing something accidently, or mostly out of their control, you don't really solve anything, just make them feel bad on top of the initial mistake. Sure, in hindsight there are things that could have been done differently, care could have been taken that maybe wasn't, but in the moment it seemed sensible. I warn my friends sometimes to think for a second before being angry. Holding my tongue before shouting 'get a truck with brakes' has saved me a ton of little arguments in my life.
It's odd where you get little life skills that serve a person well. Strange as it is, this silly movie gave me insight into communication that has yielded tangible results in my relationship with Jaime, and probably others. Sure I still sometimes make these statements, but I make an effort to think before I speak in a way I didn't before seeing the film.

(I'm particularly bad about after the fact "be carefuls," which are really only a passive aggressive "get a truck with brakes." I'm working on it.)

I haven't worked out how else a benevolent space blob can better my life, but if I do I'll write about it.

Snow Like It's Back East

Today we really had a crazy snowfall. The biggest I've seen since I moved to Seattle. We got the kids bundled up and walked around the neighborhood with Cathy and Joel and Gabri.

It was a wonderful day. Everyone was out, there were few cars. Once again events like these remind me of how amazing a community can be when we aren't all isolated in little boxes. Cars and suburban fortress housing have removed us from each other. When we all get out on the street and interact, it's amazing. Of course a lot of the goodwill was a factor of time off work and the rarity of a real snowfall in Seattle; but the walkability and general feel of the neighborhood made it a great day for most of my Greenwood compatriots.

The insane idealist part of me dreams of a city with arterial streets for limited car traffic, major streetcar and bus traffic, light rail scattered through the city, and neighborhood streets for pedestrians only. Cities would be connected with safe and reasonably affordable railway systems. And of course there'd be blimps. I'm not sure how economical or sustainable blimp travel is, or whether it makes any sense at all as a transportation option. But, you know. Blimps would be fun.

I know I said it was crazy.

Viri was less enthused about the weather than us. He does not tolerate the cold well. But once we got to the house and started chatting and watching the snow fall, he got into the spirit. Arkaedi responded as usual with babbles and wiggles. She's a trooper. Some strong northern European stock in this girl, she does not mind the cold. Somehow my son is designed for the tropics. When the temperature dips below 60 he complains it's too cold. Of course his insistence on wearing rain boots in the snow may be a part of the problem. At least his totoro hat will protect him from the icy winds.