Digging in the Nick family photo files

People keep saying Jordan looks so much like Nick, but it's hard for me to tell. I will say that he does make the same "The Hell?" face that Nick is making here.He also has this "Holy crap!" (no pun intended) look on his face in new situations.
And I'm pretty sure that if I ever dress him like this, he'll give me the same, "You have got to be fucking kidding me." expression.

Thank you

I just want to take a moment to thank all of you.

You know it's been a hell of a year, and still, I feel lucky for so many things. And all of you are high up on the list.

You make me laugh, you make me think, you pull at my heart.

Thank you for reading, for commenting, for emailing kind notes. Thank you for thoughts and prayers. Thank you for baby and mama gifts. Thank you for food. We ate a lot of casseroles in those first weeks after Jordan arrived. And they were delicious.

And most of all, thank you for caring about us. I feel lucky to have you all in my little world.

Odds of posting tomorrow are low, so let me say Happy Thanksgiving to all the Thanksgivingers, and happy Thursday to everyone else.

Big hug,

Lisa

Where my heart lives

I don't know if you've ever spent much time with a baby.

I certainly had avoided them like the plague before I had one. I couldn't imagine what could be fun about them.

And now, now I have this three-month old boy in his crib, staring up at his mobile. There's an orange giraffe, a blue bird, and a raspberry colored monkey. They spin around in circles to Bach and Mozart.

He sees them every day.

And still, every time, he's all, "Holy shit! Would you look at this! Yippee! And there goes the monkey...wait, no, he's coming back again...and the bird! Wow!"

He laughs, he squeals, he wiggles in delight. He gets so excited he kicks his socks off.

He can't imagine it getting any better than this. And honestly, neither can I.

Everyone gets fed

We had dinner last night with lovely Laura and her new husband! last night.

We went to Dino in Cleveland Park. I've only been a couple times, but I love the place. The food is delicious and they have wine specials on Sundays and the owners are so pleasant and really interesting. And they like kids.

And if you are breastfeeding, I highly recommend the place. But I will get to that.

I'd forgotten to make a reservation, so we arrived a little early and asked if they had space for all and a baby. They juggled things around and gave us a table very quickly, even though they were busy.

While sitting down, we got dirty looks from the two women dining at the table next to us. Or rather, our boy did.

Which puts you on my bad list. Don't you stinkeye my baby!

I thought about assuring them that he's a good baby, but then thought, ah, fuck it. I also wanted to taste the one woman's Brussels sprouts, but decided to order my own. Yum.

(Note to Laura: just because you call them Brussies doesn't mean you are actually more familiar with them than I.)

So Big J needed to eat NOWNOWNOW almost as soon as we sat down, and I was wondering how the whipping out of the boob would go over. And then I noticed the large triptychs we had for menus.

Perfect!

So Nick held up the unfolded menu, J glommed on, and for a good chunk of time it just looked like I was seriously absorbed in deciding what I might want for dinner.

We passed him around as we were waiting for our meal, so everyone could get a sweet baby squeeze. He just watched and watched.

The previously pilly women next door were all charmed. Such a good baby!

Ha.

And then he got tired, and when this happens, Nick is just the best person to lull him to sleep. It's like reclining on a big pillowy mattress.

And by pillowy of course I mean big firm pecs of steel and abs of titanium but still very comfortable mattress.

So we put the napkin over his head to reduce the excitement of lights! and people! and wow! I just feel I ought to explain this, in case you are all, "Lis, a napkin clearly fell on his head and you are such bad parents you don't even notice." No. We are deliberate napkin-on-the-head kinds of parents.

And yes, we understand you can't substitute a plastic bag for a napkin.

So when you have a butt hand and a pat hand, you have no more hands with which to eat your lasagna.

Which is when your adoring wife steps in.

Dear Dad, month six

Dear Dad,

It's been just over six months since you quietly and carefully slipped out of our lives.

I unwittingly resorted my emails by date this morning, and an email from you appeared at the top of my inbox. It made my stomach jump.

We've been so busy with the baby, and I have to say, that's been really helpful. Nick said the other day that he was worried about how crushingly sad I was after you died. Jordan has made the most extraordinary difference in all our lives.

Jordan is so big and so much fun now. I wish you were here to see him. You would love him so much. He's nothing but joy, really.

He's got Nick's temperament, I think. Very even, very upbeat. I feel relieved about that. I worry about the depression genes.

I'm not sure who he looks like. A lot of Nick, but not totally. He has your and my blue eyes. I hope that as he grows, he has more things that remind me of you.

Sometimes I have dreams with you in them. Somehow, you're just out of reach. In retrospect, maybe you always were.

It's a beautiful, sunny fall day. Last winter and spring were tough, and honestly, I think if the weather hadn't been so relentlessly grim, if the sun had bothered to shine, you might still be with us.

I still have the what-ifs, although I now have more distance and am in a better place, so they don't hurt quite as much.

I miss you, though. I really do.

Love,

Lisa