avery

Happy Sunday!  Happy sunshiney crisp autumn day.  A great day to take Avery on her first subway ride.  She slept through it.  Marjorie has been curious about Astoria since coming to New York, so we had a peek.  Avery slept through almost the entire jaunt, but that just means she was having a good time.  Right?  Whenever a loud sound stirred her, she would lurch her head around, but as soon as she heard me or Mum, she would immediately zonk right out again.  Adorable, awesome, and hopefully an ability that never goes away.

So Astoria, from the bit of Ditmars that we saw, is what you’d imagine suburban Queens would be.  Few buildings over two stories.  Mostly half a century old or older.  Lots of tiny stores.  Real character.  We saw a Starbucks, and it stood out.  We went in anyway, because the weather demanded a peppermint mocha and (I think) an eggnog latte.  Apparently there’s a lot more in the way of big chains like the Gap a few more blocks away on Steinway, but that’s not what we were looking for.  You can find those anywhere.  Literally.  Like, bottom of the ocean, and opening soon Mars 2020.  Anyway, it was a little too crisp for the extended jaunt to Astoria Park, but we’ll do that eventually.  It’s supposed to be a nice park.  A pool and such.

We have to go back, regardless (not irregardless, because that’s not a word).  We’ve heard from reliable sources that the best Thai food in town is to be had in Astoria.  And that’s worth a quest.  Mmmmm yes, oh you bess belee dat.

What’s your opinion of gripe water?  Sodium bicarbonate, dill, fennel.  Other stuff.  Let’s say the no booze version, to move the conversation forward quickly.  As far as western medicine is concerned, gripe water is for old wives.  But that could be because nobody can patent it, so they’d just as soon discredit it.  Like the medicinal properties of marijuana.  But lest I digress, bicarbonate is what makes Tums work, so I could see it being helpful to a baby with a troubled tummy – if it’s acid related.  But gripe water is given for colic (describing behaviour traditionally associated with gastrointestinal discomfort.  Actually, that’s a great Wiki article.  You should go read it.) and there’s really nothing in gripe water that deals with gas.  It seems to me it should contain simethicone, which helps gas move quickly through the body by decreasing the surface tension of the bubbles – bigger bubbles pass more easily.  Apparently.  Ok.  A Google search shows that gripe water generally doesn’t include simethicone, but lots of moms use both and their physicians are fine with it.  So.  Maybe that’s the direction.  Symptom-wise, the meltdowns do happen in the evening, and can last for hours, which is all on the mark for “colic”, or perhaps actual lactose intolerance – though that’s unlikely because they started before the formula.  But I’m not going to diagnose this to death.  I’ll just suggest to Mum that even though these meltdowns have been only a weekly occurrence, we give the cocktail a shot.  Little Tummys does both – for some reason not conveniently combining them.  Might give that a closer look.  Thanks again, mighty Goog.

You know what?  Thanks also to the incredible efforts of the recovery teams here in the tristate area (that’s New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut, for those that didn’t know – like me).  Sandy kicked our asses, and in one week we have transit and power back for most of the five million affected.  Sincerely, my gratitude and impressedness to Con Ed (and other utilities not currently in big trouble for sucking), the MTA, and the literally thousands of men and women who knocked themselves out around the clock getting us all back in the game – and are still going.  Outstanding.  There are a lot of people out in Red Hook, Staten Island, and other areas that are still struggling, and aren’t in a position yet to appreciate, but I know you guys are working your asses off against stunning challenges.  On behalf of my family, especially my warm and dry baby girl, thank you.

Right there is why you guys work so hard, and I appreciate the hell out of that.  If she had the words, and could stay awake long enough, I’m sure she’d echo the sentiment.

Dammit.  I just realized I have yet to return the call that might be from the guy that nearly made me the first statistic of the hurricane.  No hard feelings, actually.  I’m overjoyed to be alive and I trust he’ll look twice next time he hangs a fast louie.  Gotta call that number.  I guess lunch hour tomorrow is the new target.

Sleep well, dear reader.  Now go rack up another hug.  Election day in the US is less than 24 hours away.

Parenting tip: if you’re ever curious about how much actual free time you have, try watching a movie.  In our case, it takes a day.  As long as it’s a weekend day with nothing else going on.  By my estimation, if we make a concerted effort, Marjorie and I can find one uninterrupted block of twenty minutes at the end of the day to sit on the couch together, side by side and even touching if we want.  I think this will improve after the three month mark, when Avery can start to get on board with routine.  I think.  That’s not so far away.  She’s almost seven weeks!  Already!

Don’t get me wrong – today was a good day.  Lots of smiles and wiggles.  I love hanging out with little Peppermint.  Marjorie suspects she’s trying to talk back already.  She’s at least chatty.  She really lights up when she has your complete attention.  Like a wriggly football.

Problem: Skyfall opens in a few days.  It’s probably a bit soon for Avery.  Also too soon for a babysitter.  I suspect I will have my next theater experience a couple years from now.

Bonus performance – Tonight was Avery’s weekly meltdown.  We still feel a little helpless when she’s fully wound up.  You go down the list of tricks, but you can’t just rattle them off.  Too much stimulation will just level up.  Patience.  Always patience.  Every trick gets a fair and full shot.  I think tonight may have been for real gas related, because she was just as desperate as we were for some relief.  I blame the super cute sweat pants (pictured above).  With her new and amazing round belly, the wardrobe needs another shuffle.  I think the elastic waist may have been too tight.  After the tantrum had pushed into the one hour mark, Marjorie suggested we get her out of her swaddle and sleeper (she’s recently discovered she loves being naked).  The screaming was heating her up, so it made sense.  And as soon as we got her out of those pants, she settled right down.  For a few minutes.  Then we got the sequel.  You will often not know what the problem is, and what seems to work may only buy you a temporary reprieve.  Finally, Marjorie got her skin-on-skin, chest to chest, and just waited her out.  It worked.  Three hours later they’re probably still lying like that in the bedroom.

Yes, we do still consider ourselves extremely lucky.  Avery could be one of those “difficult” babies.  Sometimes I worry that Marjorie might be getting frustrated in the middle of those epic meltdowns, but the depths of her patience and love are as yet unplumbed.  She’s amazing.

Meanwhile, last year I designed a tee-shirt graphic for Hurricane Irene that we never got around to using.  Wasn’t much of a market for it in New York after Irene’s non-starter.  I pulled it apart and revamped it for Sandy, and Lee and I are hoping to get some material support for it so we can sell a bajillion of them and donate all the proceeds to the recovery effort.  I will keep you posted.  If we can’t get the ducks lined up, I will still do up an iron-on or two.  It’s a nifty graphic.  An improvement on last year’s design, for this year’s hurricane that, by george, really took the trouble to make an impression.

Other news – we didn’t get selected in the China-Canada script contest (part of the Whistler Film Festival).  Most of the finalists already have features under their belts, so you can see that, as is usually the case, the system favours those already embedded in the system.  That said, considering the political non-firestorm around the China-Canada trade deal, a certain distance is maybe for the best.  Harper has cheerfully raped Canada once again.  Seriously, go read the linked op-ed.  Or this one.  And this one on the oil deal.  How has he not been burned at the stake yet?  Just how much do Canadians have to take before acting in their own best interest?  Honestly, I am baffled.  Someone said to me that we lack a strong alternative, and I challenge you: would a block of moldy cheese not do a better job of protecting Canadians and Canadian interests?  At least in the US, everybody has an opinion and is happy to shout about it.  Maybe that’s unfair.  Maybe not.  Canada desperately needs a wholesale changing of the guard.  It’s embarrassing.  David Suzuki quit his eponymous Foundation so he could get politically active, because he’s sick of 1) Harper raping the environment for profit and 2) Canadians not doing anything about it.  How can we even talk about political accountability when millions of Canadians don’t seem interested in taking responsibility themselves?  Oust the bastard!

sigh.  Rant rant rant.  We lost Jack Layton way too soon.

I also can’t believe how close the polls are down here.  Where is the educated middle class?  What does it take to get somebody into a voting booth?  Fine, I get that you’re frustrated with the Electoral College (universally recognized as the worst electoral system in practice today by any nation), but that’s no excuse not to vote.

Says the guy that didn’t vote in the last Canadian election.  Fair enough.  Who am I to complain.  Touché.

My goodness, I am ranty this evening.  With the hurricane all over but the cleanup, I seem to have some spare energy for politics. Must be because Marjorie let me sleep in today.  I love that girl very much.

She just shuffled out of the bedroom, squinty with sleep.  Apparently Avery is asleep in the middle of the bed, as surmised.  She should be awake any minute now for her feeding, and after that we’ll try to transfer her to the bassinet.  Poor doll.  Hopefully whatever was troubling her earlier is long past.

Happy expiry of Daylight Saving Time!  Hello, winter, my old friend.  It is a time of transition, of change.  With my bruised ribs and bum knee I’ve been at a bit of a loss what I can do to shed some poundage.  It occurred to me during the blackout that stairs are a lot of work, so that’s my plan.  I live on the 28th floor, which would make for a significant climb.  I don’t imagine I’ll scale them all on the first trip, but I can start with half.  Let’s see if I can make this a habit.

Of course, I haven’t managed to make a habit out of a reasonable bed time yet.  Silly man.

Yep, there she is for her feeding.  G’night everybody!

Pediatrician appointment today.  Report card: Excellent!  Peppermint’s weight is into the 22nd percentile, and her length, shnykees, her length is in the 96th.  9lbs 5oz (up 13 ounces in a week), and 23.25 inches (an inch in two weeks).  We should have called her Bamboo!  So today has been great.  We know our girl is sparklingly healthy.  She knows it too.  All smiles and wiggles.  Such a doll!

As of this writing, parts of Manhattan are still dark.  The lights are coming back on in patches, such as at the Barans (hoorah!  We almost felt guilty for coming back here knowing you guys were still in the dark), but not yet at Lee & Suz’s.  Power back up all over Manhattan by midnight, we have been told, but I still see a black hole in the middle of my skyline.  Surely by morning.

Considering this was Day 6, Lee and Suz came over here for a hot shower and to recharge their devices.  Lee came for lunch and to get some work done, and Suz made it over for dinner.  Barely.  Lee took the East River Ferry, which at 11am was no big deal at all.  Suz planned to take a car after work, but the livery company jerked her around for eight hours and then, when they finally showed up, they refused to leave Manhattan.  Gas crisis.  Fine.  So they took her to the ferry.  Perfect, right?  Not at rush hour.  The line stretched almost four blocks.  Commuters, denied the subway, the LIRR, and cars with fewer than three occupants, were converging by the thousands on one of their very few options.  The little ferries officially only hold 149 people at capacity!  And they never hit capacity!  She was patient, and lucky, and made it on the last boat.  Nice.  So we took them to our favorite Thai restaurant – Tuk Tuk.  Delightful.  And then Suz got the hot shower she’s been craving for almost a week.

Here’s the substation explosion that blacked out midtown for six days:

And here’s Sandy, time lapsed from orbit, in the interest of seeing the superstorm in all her murderous glory:

And if I had it, I would show you a picture of a tired but happy me.  Grateful for good friends, deeply appreciative of my family, and feeling profoundly fortunate when millions nearby are still shivering.

Hey – update: Lee and Suz have power back!  Good thing they made the crazy commute over here for a hot shower today!  Well, let’s be perfectly honest.  If they hadn’t, their power would still be a couple days away.  That’s how that goes.

Bloomberg cancelled the New York Marathon just a few hours after confirming it.  This in the wake of aerial footage of the devastation on Staten Island, which sparked public outrage over the gross waste of resources better used in the recovery effort – such as the dozens of generators that could easily restore power to thousands of homes, or the tons of food for carb-loading marathoners that could maybe feed thousands of the freshly homeless. Wise move, Bloomberg.  I think he should immediately have turned embarrassment to triumph by loudly and publicly ordering the redistribution of said resources.  I’m sure it will happen.  Personally, and after a day to think on it, I think he made the right call both times.  First, he wanted to offer New Yorkers a bright end to a dismal week, not to mention showing the world that, once again, you can’t keep New York down.  It was a good sentiment, drawn directly from 9/11.  What he missed is the visual – thousands of cheery well-fed runners trotting past thousands of destroyed homes and homeless, possibly even new bodies washing up on shore.  It would have been a debacle.  So… also a good call on the course correction.

Marjorie says I should go get my chest X-rayed.  It’s still sore, though it doesn’t really slow me down much.  Not much I could do about it if I did have a broken rib.  Still, it would be nice to know.  Which reminds me, I got a call from a name I don’t recognize.  It may be the fella that hit me.  I will return that call tomorrow.  It will be good to let him know I didn’t die of internal bleeding, and more importantly that camera is indeed fine.  Probably I should go get X-rayed before I tell him I didn’t die.  Maybe they’d let me keep the picture?  Jim got to keep his awesome brain scan.

Speaking of pictures– oh for the love of all that is holy, Taverner, just go to bed.

Fine.

But we’ll continue this conversation.  Just you wait and see.

Ok, one more picture: