Do I know you?

Hello, I know we've met somewhere before...perhaps in a life BC? Before Children?

The new year is off to a promising start: visiting with dear friends, old and new; getting the house in order; making gifts instead of buying them; making peace with family.
Friends from our old bohemian pad (the T Street studio), Mark-o and Sweet Lynn dropped by yesterday with their beautiful son Marshall. I couldn't believe how much he's grown, so mature for his age, so lucid and focused. Oh, and the baby was amazing too :-)

Both Pooks and I noticed how happy they were. What a tight family they've become. Mark-o quietly took his wife's hand as we leisurely strolled to our local Waffle Shop for an early morning Sunday walk and breakfast. After we enjoyed the circus that results in eating with infant/toddlers (objects are juggled and fly through the air with the greatest of ease), we stopped by the playground and reminesced while the little ones played themselves out, imagining themselves as aliens, astronauts, explorers of fantastic beings.

Reminescing about our own lives, I couldn't help but think as young adults, we're on a great exploration of our own: of humanity and ourselves. while on this great expedition, we encounter aliens, gods, and monsters sometimes in the individuals we meet; sometimes within ourselves. Our world changes as does our place within it. If we survive our childhood intact, it seems to me that we are that much more capable in adulthood, however frightful or sublime it may be.

Looking back at the T Street house, I recall a much younger, reckless Mark-o and a much quieter Sweet Lynn. Yesterday I saw two very different people of course.

Sweet Lynn has proven herself in the big city and by giving birth, she joins the motherhood club. She walks with a straight back and her head held high. She's just lovely.

Mark-o is another person entirely. During the time I knew him, he should have died at least five times over with the things that I've witnessed and heard about. He's had an unbelievable life and has incredible luck (I'm not exaggerating either). Observing him as a parent, it's weird, but it's a natural fit. Sure, he'll have some colorful, colorful stories to tell his children, but he's comfortable in his role as father and easily shifts into his maternal side, of which I never knew existed. He's become a man.

And I'm going to take a break and cry a bit before I go on...

If you're lucky, having a child shifts one's axis of reality from the egocentric to homocentric, and suddenly the world becomes a paradox: bigger yet smaller; scarier yet nurturing. The world embraces you as a parent while you simultaneously fear the unknown for your child. Your needs somehow come second to your child's, and holyshit, you don't care what the latest fad/gadget is.

Your sense of humanity, your sense of self, these become immediate concerns as you realize that these are the parts of you that are most important to the survival of your child(ren). These are vital traits that they inherit, for better or worse.

So what have our little rugrats inherited?

Marshall has these big, beautiful brown eyes lined with lashes that flirt with everyone within sight. Were you a coquette in another life? He's bold and curious about his environs, describing it with sweet innocence and exploring it with ease and calm unusual in a baby. He's loved and it shows.

You all know the general state of BedHeadSid (BHS) and StinkyHeadMonkeyToes (SHMT). But did you know that of late, SHMT is entering the vocabulary zone? Yes, he can now say coherently when he wants more: the inquisitive "More?" or the enthusiatic/insisting "More!" or the more demanding/threatening "MORE!!!" He calls Halmoni "Na-Na," BHS "Brah-da," Pooks "Da-Da" and me "Na-Nee." He will roar if he wants the T-Rex toy or if he's referring to any dinosaur within the vicinity. He's smelling my hair, savoring it by golly, and cupping my face in his hands before he sprinkles my face with gentle kisses. Of course, he'll sneak up on me (any one of us actually) while lying on my belly and ride me like a bucking bronco, laughing hysterically.

He will say "ball," "wa-da" (water), "hi," and can understand simple phrases like "go/give to daddy/grandma/brother" (too sweet how he loves to feed people by hand) and "let's change your diaper" (he'll go to the changing bed), "let's put on your shoes" (he'll go sit on the shoe bench and stick out his feet). He knows more than we expect sometimes. Scary. Sublime.

BHS is a joker and good big brother. His sense of humor is very sweet, and he can be funny as hell sometimes. At times, although we'd rather he didn't, he uses SHMT as a comedy prop. Sometimes it's hilarious like when he makes butts (his or SHMT's) talk a la Ace Ventura, "excuse me, but do you have a mint?" Sometimes it's not like when he puts SHMT in a headlock or pretends he's a punching bag.

Overall, he loves his little brother and eventually forgives SHMT when he maims him (biting/scratching/smacking/pulling hair/etc), usurps his things and his time with ma/pa, and rips up his favorite reading materials.

Interestingly, although SHMT and Marshall seemed to acknowledge each other, they were oddly indifferent to each other. BHS and Marshall, on the other hand, got along smashingly. Marshall called out BHS's name and sought him out, and BHS was enchanted by it all. (I'm sure BHS enjoyed the attention since he's usually the one competing for SHMT's attention when we visit with BHS's friends.) By the end of the visit, BHS so loved Marshall's sweetness and gentility that he loudly declared that Marshall was the nicest baby around.

It was no surprise then that SHMT seemed a bit put off that he wasn't the center of attention and that Marshall was the object of much affection. Hmmmm, baby rivalry -- very interesting indeed. Let's hope they grow closer and become great friends.

We had a wonderful time with the Muscats and hope to visit with them again soon.