christmas pictures

"I'm four months old today! Yippee!"



Christmas morning in the hotel: Baby with toys, mom and dad with the Sunday New York Times. What could be better? Maybe a latté, but all the coffee shops were closed.



Christmas afternoon in the childhood home (also file under "chaos"). All my siblings and parents — plus a niece and a boyfriend — are in this picture.



Daniel hangs out with his cousin Teresa, age 3.



Daniel's stocking, made by his grandmother. All of his aunts and uncles have one, too.



Later in the week: My cute parents, their handsome son-in-law (carrying the diaper bag) and babe in stroller walk up hip Hawthorne Street on the way to lunch.



Quality time with grandpa ...



... and grandma

merry christmas!

We leave for Portland Sunday, and I will probably be away from the blog all week. So I will leave you with Danny Boy modeling his Christmas outfit from his grandpa. Yes, I personally think he should be in Gap ads, although in that case, he will have to stop flipping the bird all the time. I can't tell you how many times he's done that for the camera. :) Have a wonderful holiday, everyone. See you later!

if this picture had sound ...

... you would hear Daniel snoring. He fell asleep in his new Kangaroo Korner fleece pouch today, all on his own. It's that comfortable for him. It was so cute! And I'm happy to have found a sling that he likes — finally. We went through a couple of other models that didn't work as well, but this is a keeper. (And I love the color!)

this is the day

All fall, I've felt like Izzy on Grey's Anatomy in that episode where she stands outside the hospital all day, trying to psyche herself up to go in but never quite ready to do it. I've been putting off going back to ballet class the same way. Just not feeling ready. Not energetic enough. Not having a leotard that fits my postpartum body. Not ready to appraise my body and my posture in a full-length mirror for an hour and a half. Not being able to find my ballet slippers in the bags of pre-pregnancy clothes I stashed away almost a year ago. Not organized enough to figure out the logistics of feeding Daniel or pumping breastmilk before I go so I don't have to worry about leakage during class. Steve has been trying to encourage me. A few weeks ago, he bought me some new ballet slippers, but I procrastinated on sewing the elastics onto them.

Well, this morning, I finally went. Last night, I sewed on the elastics; and this morning I got up at 7:30, fed Daniel and left the house at 8:15 in a too-tight leotard, breast pads and yoga pants. And it was wonderful. It felt so good to be back at that barre, doing pliés and tendues and arabesques and soutenu turns. To hear Tatiana pound out the familiar music on the piano in the corner, and to remember how soulful and joyful it feels to stretch my body and dance. And it felt nice to see all the old familiar faces and my teacher, Janet, who gave me a hug when I told her about the baby. She told me to expect my body to be "lush" for a while, especially since I'm breastfeeding. She said the same thing happened to her, and I was relieved that even longtime ballerinas have had their "lush" periods. (And God knows "lush" sounds a lot better than some of the words I've been feeling!) So I summoned up a healthy dose of compassion when I looked in the mirror, and I even felt a bit of pride in my mom-body, not perfect and young anymore, but still perfectly capable of glissading across a floor and bringing a baby into this world.

I feel like I've reached another turning point in this journey — like I'd been tamping down a passionate part of myself these past months as I embrace (with an entirely different sort of passion) the role of motherhood, and now I've allowed that old self back into my new life. It feels great!

dancing with my baby to italian love songs

I have grown to love my dancing time with Daniel and Paolo Conte. It's the only music that I can guarantee will settle Daniel to sleep when nothing else will work. It never fails, and I don't quite get it, but I don't question it.

I bought the Best of Paolo Conte CD this fall after hearing one of his songs in a French movie we rented from Netflix. His voice is sort of a sexy, husky, Italian Tom Waits-Rat Pack hybrid, and when I close my eyes and sway along to the music, I imagine myself in a dark, smoky jazz club, my head full of wine, leaning against a man's strong shoulder. Open my eyes, and I'm barefoot on the living room floor in my sweatpants, and the only male shoulder in proximity is Daniel's tiny one, nestled against my chest. It usually takes just four or five songs before his eyelids droop and he falls asleep. I usually listen to the first three, then skip the fourth (too upbeat for sleeping and swooning) and go straight to number five, my favorite, "Sparring Partner." It's the one from the movie.

One day, Steve got home from work and walked in the door just as Daniel was falling asleep. We put the baby into his rocker, and my man took me in his arms and held me close as we danced across the floor. When I closed my eyes, it was almost like being in that jazz club.

can someone explain this to me?

Chase, the company that owns my credit card, sent a copy of its privacy policy to me the other day. I don't always read those things, but I thought I'd read this one, since it was written in an easy-to-follow Q&A format. Here's my favorite part:

"You may tell us not to share information with you about you with non-financial companies outside of our family of companies [including retailers, auto dealers, auto makers, direct marketers, membership clubs and publishers]. Even if you do tell us not to share, we may do so as required or permitted by law."

I don't get it. Why even give us the choice to opt out?

boy, those lutherans sure can sing

I speak in particular here of the National Lutheran Choir, whose annual Advent concert Steve and I attended Saturday night at the Basilica of St. Mary (our second "date" without Daniel since he was born), as we have for the past four or five years. The choir aside, it seems like most of my Lutheran friends are musical in one way or another. Maybe it's because they went to St. Olaf College, where music reigns supreme, or maybe there is something larger about the Lutheran zeitgeist that fosters a love for singing. I remember reading an essay by Garrison Keillor, posted on my very musical, Lutheran friend Liz's blog a while back: "We make fun of Lutherans for their blandness, their excessive calm, their fear of giving offense, their constant guilt that burns like a pilot light, their lack of speed and also their secret fondness for macaroni and cheese," he writes. "But nobody sings like them."

Anyway, the concert was exquisite, magnificent, even mystical in parts. At one point, the choir was spread throughout the whole, huge basilica, the singers in their black robes and cross pendants lined up and down the aisle, sustaining a series of undulating notes that would have reminded a more cynical me of an episode of Star Trek but which, at the time, felt like being carried along on the breath of angels.

This year, I find that I am especially drawn to images of Mary holding her sleeping infant son. I have always found the paintings beautiful and interesting (and sometimes funny, when the image of Jesus looks like a miniature grown man), but now I linger at the paintings and think about how familiar that pose is, how it reminds me of the way I cradle my own son in my arms, how he sometimes looks like a wise little man hands himself when he holds his hands out in a certain way. The same with music: As the choir and audience sang Silent Night together that night — "Holy Infant so tender and mild" — tears rolled down my face. As a Catholic of the post-Vatican II generation, I have never been really into Mary, the way some women of my mother's generation are. But now I'm thinking that becoming a mother has given me a new soft spot for her. When I think of all she went through with that son of hers, it's easier to put myself in her shoes and imagine what a strong, brave, patient woman she must have been.

a new year meme

Stirrup Queens and Sperm Palace Jesters posted this meme and tagged anyone who reads it to play along. The directions as the Stirrup Queen explains them: "[It] can be done in two different ways. Either you can do all seven categories and list two answers for every category (get it? It's 2007, so I'm playing on the two numbers: 2 and 7) OR you can choose two of the categories and list seven answers."

If you want to play, either leave your answers as a comment on this post, or post the whole thing yourself on your own blog (and leave me a comment letting me know so I can go look). I love these pay-it-forward memes!

The categories:
Things you learned this year
People you met
Things you don't want to take with you into 2007
Things you want to hold close as you pass into 2007
Things you're looking forward to in 2007
Things that were life changing in 2006
Things you hope to accomplish by the end of 2007

My answers:
Things you learned this year
1. That all the extra hair that grew during pregnancy would fall out about three months post-partum.
2. How to cut up a whole chicken.

People you met
1. Everyone on my church's liturgy committee, which I joined this summer.
2. The Robertshaw siblings I met this weekend. They were very nice, and I was glad to have a chance to get to know them a little.

Things you don't want to take with you into 2007
1. My baby weight, and it's coming off slowly but surely, so maybe I'll leave it all in 2006!
2. My resentment about certain money issues.

Things you want to hold close as you pass into 2007
1. Stephen and our baby Daniel.
2. The realization of myself as a mother, something that is still sinking in.

Things you're looking forward to in 2007
1. Getting back to ballet classes.
2. Our trip to California in May for a wedding in the wine country.

Things that were life changing in 2006
1. Having a baby, obviously!
2. Starting this blog, which has been a new and more public expression of myself than anything I've done before.

Things you hope to accomplish by the end of 2007
1. Possibly getting pregnant again and/or deciding to adopt a second baby.
2. Getting some freelance work published.

dixie on my mind

My head is still full of the South, the way it is after I've been anywhere on a trip. Our visit to my old stomping grounds of Mississippi was short but sweet. Very sweet. It was wonderful to see Jo Ann and David again and to be there to celebrate their 50 years of marriage. It's hard to imagine being married 50 years, and I think anyone who accomplishes it is pretty amazing. I'll be 85 when our time rolls around, and I hope I will be lucid enough to enjoy the party. Jo Ann and David are remarkable people. David was an East Coast native who (with his brother) was invited down to farm in the Mississippi Delta by Hodding Carter, the legendary founder and editor of the Delta Democrat Times (where I later worked after the Carter family sold the newspaper to a chain from California). Jo Ann was a local girl, and when they met and married, David stayed and eventually found a career in forestry. I met Jo Ann after she had retired and was working part time as a photographer at the newspaper. I love them so much, and they are one of the main reasons I will return to Greenville again.

So is McCormick Book Inn, the little independent bookstore on Main Street where I used to go to escape from mediocrity and fill myself with the richness of Southern culture or whatever else I was in the mood to savor. Hugh McCormick and his wife, Mary Dayle, keep the shelves stocked with Delta writers and great novels and the walls hung with beautiful photography and art work. The day we stopped in, I think Hugh's eyes popped out of his head when he saw me! They were serving up appetizers in the back room - so yummy that I bought the book the recipes came from. (The author happened to be having a signing that afternoon, so she signed it for me.)

And on Sunday, we drove halfway across the state — past the flat catfish farms and cotton fields, though towns like Leland and Indianola — to Oxford, home of Ole Miss and another great independent bookstore, Square Books, where we met Elizabeth, one of my old friends from when we both worked at the newspaper. We only had time for lunch and a few minutes of holding Daniel, but it was so good to see her, too.

Daniel was a trooper on the airplane and all the long car rides. Sure, he cried a bit, and we were sweating and apologetic, but it didn't last long. And he is a baby, after all, and people understood. At the hotel, we got a portable crib, but he ended up sleeping in between Steve and me in our big king-size bed, which was an unexpected delight. Daniel likes to sleep with his arms spread wide open, so there's not enough room for all three of us in our queen-size bed at home.

As we were driving from Oxford back to Memphis to fly home Sunday night, Steve said he had really gained an appreciation for Mississippi and for what I had loved about it when I lived there. He saw its charm and its beauty, along with the poverty and racial divisions, and that meant a lot to me, for him to be able to share a part of my life that was before him.