Entropy

As I have written before, I make an effort to craft an anniversary gift for Sara out of the material for that anniversary year. Though year two was supposed to be cotton (according to tradition), I got a bright idea and decided to make something out of wax. (I think I had been addled by the Pasadena smog.) In November of 2003, I went to Target and bought a huge cauldron-shaped candle. On the outside surface I etched the words "Happy Two Years Sara & Emrys, 22 Dec 2003." I then filled in the etching (here's where my hand-crafting came in) with red and green wax. When lit, the candle glowed from the inside. I thought it looked pretty cool. Here's a recent photo:

The easiest way to carry this candle was to pick it up by the top rim. However the candle weighed about ten pounds, and repeated liftings stressed the integrity of its structure. A couple of weeks ago it cracked and a large chunk came out of the circumference of the candle:

Sad day.

Quite frankly, the piece didn't do a lot of work in our household. We had to clear the coffee table to bring it out, and since its original wick died we had to put our own votives inside. As a result, it didn't get much use. So Sara and I agreed today that this gift, having fulfilled its purpose as expression of love, could be retired. Please play a round of taps, lift up a prayer to the Almighty, or have a Guinness--whatever might be your fitting salute to a gift that after five years finally gave up to the disorder of the universe.

Sara wants me to record that "retirement" does not mean "being thrown away." We try to give things more lives in this household. In the spirit of use-reuse-resurrect, Sara will be melting down those ten pounds of wax and making citronella candles for this summer. What more fitting way to say "Happy Anniversary" than to repel mosquitoes? I don't know of one.

~emrys

From Your Screen to the Page

In an effort to pass on to our progeny (of which we now have one) something tangible of our story, we have published one portion of our blog in hard copy. We've found a website that "slurps" one's blog entries and formats them for printing in book form. After some months of editing and formatting, we ordered a hard copy of our blog entries from the first three months of 2006. 160 pages and $60 later, we have a gorgeous hard copy that one day will pass into the hands of our child(ren).

In case you're interested in doing this yourself, the website is www.blurb.com.

On the off chance that you might be interested in acquiring a hard copy of our Down Under Adventures from 2006, it can be purchased at http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/561707. I've been instructed to tell you that the book contains many more photographs than the blog does; we culled our thousands of photographs from this time of travel, and put hundreds more in the book. All for your enjoyment!

We plan on keeping up the work--both blogging and putting chunks of past years in print. Stay tuned!

~emrys

The Grin

This entry contains elements which may not be suitable for young children. Parental discretion is advised.

Newborns cannot smile. Smiling is a developmental milestone in the life of infant that comes after hours, days, weeks of observing other faces and learning to use those muscles. Frowning, crying, and the scrunched-up face of effort come naturally from the very beginning. Smiling takes a while.

So we have learned to observe, as all new parents do, the sign that Gwendolyn is moving some milk through the lower reaches. The scrunched-up eyes, the solemn grunts, the wide-eyed pauses ("Is it out yet, I wonder?"), and the quaking limbs of effort show us that something's going on which will require parental attention later. (But not too soon, lest we get hit by evacuating product.) Gwendolyn knows the universal human experience of moving her bowels.

But every once in while, after a particularly dense push or a rumble that echoes through the double-gusset diaper. Even though she's only 12 days old, when the product has been shipped, I could swear that the corner of Gwendolyn's mouth goes up just a bit, to show she appreciates the value of what's just come to pass. She may not be able to smile yet, but I'm pretty sure I've seen her grin.

I wish I could share her joy at the realization of a full diaper.

~emrys

Naps Like a Champ

I am so incredibly thankful that my little girl will sleep anytime - anywhere:  including at night.  Last night she 5 hours straight baby!  While I know this can change at a whim - for now, I'm taking it for the blessing it is!

~sjt

Weighing In

Gwen was born at 7 pounds 13 ounces.  By the time we left the hospital she had the on-call pediatrician concerned because she was down to 7 pounds 8 oz.  We weren't really that concerned, she hadn't been eating well yet.  Monday when we saw our pediatrician she was down to 7-6 and our doc wasn't concerned.  She sent us home with instructions to try to feed Gwen every two hours during the day and hopefully to see a gain of an ounce a day by today's weight in.  

So we bundled up, and off to the doctor's office we went.  They put us back in an x-ray room since it was the only exam area that hadn't had sick people in it.  The nurse brought in the scale and weighed little Gwen.  Then the doctor came in and said "are you sure?!" and double checked the scales and weighed Gwen again.  Gwen weighed in at 8pounds 2 ounces- a full 12 ounces since Monday.  No more waking her up to eat during the day!  

And as a bonus she's letting us sleep for 4-5 hours at a time at night.  That is one prayer that I'm so thankful to have answered- a baby that is a good sleeper!

~sjt

Chocolate Cake Song and Dance

Gwendolyn was awake and active this afternoon, and Sara had a craving for chocolate cake. These are the ingredients of happy parenting.

It's important to stimulate kids from a young age (say I, who am on my first child). What's more, music and dancing are important parts of culture to which every child ought to be introduced early. Enter The Chocolate Cake song.

Bill Cosby, in one of his classic stand-up routines, told the story of when his wife left him home alone with the kids for an evening. Finding them uncontrollable, the Dad told them that if they settled down he would give them chocolate cake for supper. So was born the song, sung by a clan of Cosby kids dancing a silly dance around the house:

Dad is great!

He's givin' us chocolate cake!

Dancing around the stage, head bobbing, arms flailing, knees bent, lips out, butt wiggling, Bill Cosby introduced us to the joys of kids playing hookey from the normal rules of life. Of course, when his wife gets home and witnesses the conga-line of kids circling the house all hopped-up on chocolate, the cake-peddling Dad discovers that making the kids happy doesn't always make for peace in the marriage.

Today I had nothing to fear for domestic peace, however, because Sara was making the cake. So while I held Gwendolyn, ushering her around the kitchen to discover the kitchen mixer at work, the cool window in the oven, and the joys of licking the bowl, I danced with her to the great Cosby-chant:

Mom is great!

She's makin' us chocolate cake!

Which, if you're feeling theological (and that often happens to me while I'm dancing with a newborn in my arms) can be expanded to:

God is great!

Invented chocolate cake!

So Gwendolyn and I, much to the amusement of Sara, sang the Chocolate Cake song and danced the great Chocolate Cake dance in her first kitchen romp. Someday my daughter will be able to appreciate homemade chocolate cake. For now, she just needs to learn the joy of song and dance.

Mom is great!

She's makin' us chocolate cake!

~emrys

What's in her Name?

Gwendolyn

The Welsh word gwen meanswhite, fair, or blessed. The word dolen refers to circle or ring. Thus in the name Gwendolyn we have called our daughter blessed ring. We hope that she will be, as all the faithful of Christ, like a signet ring of the Lord Yahweh: a constant display of the presence, power, and love of the living God.

I have taken inspiration for this meaning from the book of the prophet Haggai. In this short story the Lord tells Zerubbabel, the governor of Judah, that he has been chosen by God to be a signet ring of the divine presence, a blessing to the people. And the work of Zerubbabel's hands, if in accord with the Lord's will, shall be blessed. So do we hope for our daughter. 

We hope that she will carry with her and shower upon others great blessings of imagination, compassion, and wisdom. May she be, like a ring given in promise, a sign of covenant relationship. May her presence be a reminder of the Spirit’s love for everyone she meets. 

Hope

Humanity cannot live without hope. Hope is that which imagines a future better than the present. Hope is the mother of all change for the good. She displaces fear and keeps despair at bay. To live with hope is to cast off sparks that set the world ablaze with new possibility. Thus in the name Hope we have asked the Lord to make her a light in the darkness. May her presence inspire others to better things; may her voice call hearts to labor for the divine in the midst of the human. May our daughter’s life be a promise of greater things to come, a Blessed Ring of Hope.

There is a happy double entendre in the translation (though not in Welsh): blessed ring of hope can refer to a sound, like a bell of hope tolling in the village. So we ask that the life of our little one might be a clarion ring to the world of something higher and better. May she be a song of blessing, singing the harmony of the Father of Lights, from cradle to grave and beyond.

~emrys

Positive Extortion

I'm convinced there are some professions whose sole basis for operation is extortion. They acquire money by offering to do for other people what other people could perfectly well do for themselves, but for the lack of some bureaucratic designation or certification.

Lawyers are one of these professions. Recently I had to get a lawyer to certify that our congregation existed in county records. I went down to the county clerk, found all the pertinent records, and discovered that our congregation had not been dissolved. Work done. However, it was not enough for me to get that information and report it to the bank (from whom we are trying to secure a loan). The bank needs a lawyer to do it. What took me two hours of my own time now must be done by a lawyer, who will charge us between $400 and $500 for the service. The reason? He has lawyer-letters after his name.

I am often convinced that automobile mechanics make their living on the same premise. Thus I was reluctant to take our Mazda, which had been misbehaving on start-up, to the mechanic. Surely I could fix this myself. It's either the battery (ruled that out), empty fuel tank (ruled that out), the starter, or the fuel pump.

(Before I continue, recall that in "Occam's Razor," dated 4 January, I discovered that our Mazda wouldn't start because of low fuel in the cold. My discovery was in error. Doh! Just a few days later, our Mazda failed to start again, with a full tank.)

So we're back to the starter or the fuel pump. Now, I have access to ramps, and could get the car up on the ramps, get on my back in the snow, and fish around in -5 degree weather trying to sort this out. Or I could take it to the shop. I could suffer and do it myself, or get extorted out of significant amounts of money. I could bash my head against a rock or against a hard place.

My decision was aided by my lovely wife's keen observation that loss of money is often more desirable than loss of temper or sanity. In the face of this wisdom, the next time the Mazda started we took her to the shop.

Was it the starter? I waited for a week to find out. I was prepared to pay a couple of hundred bucks to have a rebuilt starter put in (just to get us through the next 90,000 miles). Or was it the fuel pump? This would be a higher-ticket item, but still worth it given the excellent record of this car. I braced myself to pay two hours of lawyer's wages to get this thing fixed. Whatever the cause, I was sure that the mechanics would tell me something I already knew and was prepared to hear.

They told us it was the clutch linkage.

Huh. I never thought of that.

The automobile experts discovered what I probably never would have: that the clutch linkage was loose. Since a depressed clutch is required to start the car, when the clutch didn't properly engage the car wouldn't start. So they tightened the clutch and the gear shift, and handed us a bill of $93. More knowledge, less work, less money, less frustration. Huh. And the Mazda drives like a dream.

Maybe professional extortion isn't always so bad--if it gets the job done. Kudos to the guys at Russell's Garage. Do this kind of work, and you can have my money.

~emrys

Small Town Medicine

There are many things I enjoy about or local, small town medical practice.  All three of us are now established patients under the same roof and have wonderful doctors who take time out for you.  

Yesterday we took Gwen to our local peditrician/family doc to get her weight checked out, chart established etc.  The doctor spent the better part of an hour with us gathering information and checking out Gwen.  All was well with Gwen.  However in the information gathering, it came up the Emrys & I had both lapsed on our tetnus with pertussis shots.  So, thanks to small town medicine, Doctor went, grabbed our files, two syringes and, at Gwen's visit, Mom and Dad both ended up with tetnus shots!  At 4 day's old she's not even old enough to appreciate the "see it's not that bad" factor!  

Oh well.

Introducing . . . (drum roll please)

Gwendolyn Hope!

Our first child and daughter. Let's get on to the important stuff: pictures.

Here's Gwendolyn fresh out of the womb, entering the bright world of light and plastic gloves:

Here's Gwendolyn with Grandma Wheat:

Here's Gwendolyn with Aunt Sharon:

Here's Gwendolyn practicing her stage presence. "And then my aria began with, Aaaaaah, mi amoreeeeee!"

Here's Gwendolyn looking not so happy to be in her carseat:

Now, what I think is really going on in this photo is as follows. The hat she's wearing was woven by some lovely ladies at Lourdes hospital, whose task it is to make sure that newborns leave the ward warm and in style. But see that tassle at the top of her toque? That reminds me of the helmets worn by Mongol warriors when the Khans ruled most of the steppes of Asia. So I think that this hat really transforms Gwendolyn into the Queen of the Mongol Hordes. But what Mongol Queen would ever succumb to the indignity of being strapped into a carseat? None, I tell you. And Gwendolyn knows it.

What's missing? Oh, yeah. Pictures of Gwendolyn with Sara and me. More on that coming. We know that pics of Gwendolyn were infinitely more important to you. Enjoy!

~emrys