Views from a Passenger

I've been encouraging my husband to write a guest post for my blog for awhile. He would come up with one topic about Claire, another one about fatherhood. I would say, "Great! Can't wait to read it." Then, he wouldn't write it. So I was more than a little surprised when I woke up to find that he had written this piece while Claire and I were asleep. I was blown away that he chose this topic and wrote these words. I am lucky to be his wife.

I want to remark on the religious path of motherhood from the point of view of a father and a husband. By religious, I'm talking about the Latin root of the word, re legio: to reunite with things.

In giving birth, I've seen my wife, Rachel, reunite with parts of herself that were far away from her, or at least, parts that had been safely transposed into the intellectual archives of her past.

But when Claire arrived, I saw and heard Rachel touch base with things long gone: clarification of distant, vague moments that she knew had affected her. I saw her reach back to connect with the early experiences of her life, making religious connections.

I have made religious connections, too, but Rachel was the boxer, and I was the trainer in the corner with the spit pail. That's not a cop-out, but a fact: women take it on the chin, no matter how "involved" a father is. Claire passed through Rachel's body, not mine, and the echoes of that intimacy will always keep her a shade closer than I will ever be to Claire.

For Rachel, pregnancy was hard, and exhilarating, as religious journeys are. She suffered, got to know herself, and was transfigured. She got to know disappointment, and joy. She got to know midnight, as well as high noon. And I got to love her more deeply as I watched her take this ride, this scary ride, that she took partly for the love of me. What to say? I am thankful for my wife's courage to have a baby at 44. For her to have a baby at all.

And I am thankful my wife writes. Puts it into words. The "word" surrounding this religious experience. I love her writing, and I think, one day, Claire will treasure it as well.

And when Claire has branched off into her own life years from now, not needing us so much, Rachel and I will sit on the couch, hold hands, and leaf through her blog. We will read aloud the words she has put down about this incredible journey we took together. And it will be better than any photograph or home movie ever recorded.

- By George Demas

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Opposites Attract

“Vee cole, vee cole,” Claire said repeatedly.

Translation: "Feet cold".

My poor little baby had cold feet for the first time in her life. Actually, I think it was her first experience with cold in general. It isn't hyperbole to say that it took me an hour to warm them up, rubbing each tiny foot over and over again in my hands. I don't know who was more traumatized, her or me. Actually, I take that back it was me.

You see my husband, George, had taken her for an impromptu THREE hour trip to the zoo in FORTY degree weather wearing ONLY canvas sneakers!

I was mortified. I considered being mad along with mortified, but I’m trying to be more philosophical since having a kid. I can definitely cut him some slack this time too. First of all, how great is it that Claire and her papa went to the zoo together? And, really, George doesn't mean to be reckless. He’s barely used to being married, let alone having a child. There's a learning curve to fatherhood, just like anything else.

Same goes for motherhood. While I'm a stickler for schedules and routines, George would probably say I'm an old stick in the mud. He puts up with my neurotic need to make sure she eats on time, always has a nap at the appointed hour and that she's never, ever cold.

In other words, that Claire has a boring mommy, who doesn't know the meaning of the word "spontaneous" and never does anything fun with her daughter.

I'm the yin to George's yang, the traditional to his untraditional. We compliment each other nicely. So Claire can go on adventures and explore with her papa, and then come home to the warmth and security of her mama.

(In the future, I will just have to be more careful that I supervise how my child is clothed more closely.)

Zardoz on Parenting

I send George one or two links a week to articles that, in my humble opinion, offer sound parenting advice. In return, I receive links from him to things like the trailer from the 1974 Science Fiction movie, Zardoz, starring Sean Connery. So it seemed novel to me to get an email from him with the subject, “Important article on parenting”.

I clicked on the link and found an article from The Onion. “Hmm, The Onion”, I thought, “Not exactly La Leche League or The American Academy of Pediatrics, but I’m game. It’s better than YouTube videos of laughing puppies or burping children”. I read on. The article states that the California Parenting Institute did a study and found that, regardless of parenting style employed, it’s a child’s fate to become a maladjusted adult.

Wow, that big claim could pretty much rock my world. I needed details. Like the informed parent that I pride myself on being, I looked for the study at the California Parenting Institutes’ website. Evidently, I was not alone. The California Parents Institute was inundated with calls from nervous mothers like me. These queries were much to the organization’s dismay; however, since the article was a hoax.

“Oh, right, The Onion. Silly me,” I thought. “What a relief. I can go back to being puppet master of Claire’s destiny!”

But then I started thinking some more...“Was George trying to tell me something? Maybe, he thinks I need to lighten up a bit. Perhaps, I should just let Claire be. He’s pretty good at that.”

So I haven’t sent him a link in awhile…a day or two, maybe. And for good measure, I checked out the link to Zardoz. You should too; it's pretty hilarious.

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