Van

Mornings around here go about like this:

Put on something sporty and exercise by kicking my legs until they're blurry.

Visit my girlfriend Lucca and show off how strong my neck is in her purple chair.
Take a nap on my mom's bed because she thinks I'm all grown up after holding my ground and insisting I don't want to sleep in my bed this time. She tried for the first hour and a half to keep Reggie away, but I kind of like it when he sleeps on my legs.
Then when Daddy comes home he gives me drum lessons. I get a little frustrated when I don't get it just right.
I'm pretty much the coolest kid ever.

Naptime Update or Early Christmas Card

Van's asleep. Someone out there has more clout with him than I do. You must have convinced him of the dire necessity of a new blog post because he is out for the count. Good work people. So now that I've got a few quiet moments after scrubbing the bathroom, vacuuming the living room, sorting the laundry and eating a late lunch, I'll give you a quick update on each of us starting from most to least interesting.

Van

Is Eleven weeks on Sunday. He is still accused by nosey women on the street of being skinny, but he makes up for it in strength. He holds his head up for long periods of time, he stands on his little legs with the help of a responsible adult, he gauges holes in his cheeks and forehead when his nails aren't quite short enough. His grunts have given way to gummy smiles and the beginnings of a priceless laugh. He thinks his mama is the funniest lady in the world, and he flinches as his daddy's whiskers come in for a kiss. He has bright blue eyes that take in everything around him, he prefers Biden to Palen, and he can count to seven. Okay that last thing's not true, but everything else is.

Reggie

Has taken to helping with housework. He used to only clean the floor in the kitchen, but now he's on the look out for any article of clothing or fabric that has spit up or other baby substance on it. He even attempts at times to clean off Van's face when I'm not looking, or catch the spit up before it even comes out of his mouth. He refuses to enter into political discussion.

GK

Is loving school this semester. He's finally taking a few of the classes he's been looking forward to since day one. He's creating action plans for his capstone project next semester, his job search for next semester, and his job search for the post graduation move to San Francisco. He's excited about his new calling and enjoying being 40+ years younger than the other temple workers. He loves the autumn chill that's coming on and is so excited that his parents and Bubba and Jason and Sarah are coming to see us in New York in a couple of weeks. He gets regular comments and thumbs up from total strangers when he wears his Obama t-shirt that he got on the street for $5.

Susanna

Well, I've taken to hanging out with other mothers of young babies. We talk about breastfeeding woes and gas and pediatricians and baby gear. I went on ebay for the first time last night and won a jogging stroller for $76. I may have just uncovered an unhealthy addiction. I'm a little nervous about the coming of winter because I'm loving being outside every minute possible. I'm getting a little nervous as election day comes around.

Now you see why I don't do update posts more often. I stink at them. Our life isn't as boring as I make it out to be. We live in the most exciting city in the world according to itself, and we are engaged in the most meaningful pursuits of our lives according to us.

And now Van's awake, so you'll have to wait til his next nap to see some pictures. Believe me, they're worth the wait.

I'll do what I want

At least that's what I tell myself.

But actually I'll do what Van wants. So if Van wants me to, I'll do a blog post soon about him. He doesn't really like that kind of attention. He does like to be held (making typing difficult), rocked, walked, nursed.

So for those of you wondering when it will happen... Take it up with the man in charge. Tell him, napping is very helpful to his growing body and his mother's sanity. And if he listens, I'll update my blog.

Better to have loved and lost...

Our house has been a little meloncholy today. It's strange how much things affect us I suppose. I certainly don't mean to be dramatic, and GK and I have already been accused of treating our pets like people. But we can't help our attachment to them, especially to Johann, who in spite of our neglect lived a pretty full life.

GK bought our beautiful Beta Johann as a present for me almost two years ago. We had previously had two goldfish (one gold-Goldie, and one black-Kurt) who didn't last very long in spite of our best efforts. So we decided to get a tougher fish, and what we got was Johann. He was bright and beautiful and active and vibrant. When we dropped his food in the bowl, he snapped at it with amazing precision (and a fair amount of violence).

After surviving our move across the country from Denver to New York in a Nalgene bottle, Johann started to seem a little depressed. He stopped swimming around as much, he ignored the food we gave him and for a while we weren't sure how he was still alive. We went to Utah and California on multiple two week trips and would just leave him in our apartment. We'd give him a little extra food when we left (which he wouldn't touch) and we'd come back to our amazingly tough fish.

Well, a couple of weeks ago, GK decided to try to encourage Johann to return to his pre-New York state. So he bought a couple of guppies and for several days, Johann seemed to respond. He chased them (non-threatningly, but territorially), and swam around showing off his beautiful fins.

The guppies weren't as tough and after only a couple of weeks, one died. GK promptly went out and bought a new one. He placed the baggie into the top of the fishbowl and went to get a few things ready for the release. When he got back into the room he said, "Where is Johann?" I said, "What do you mean? Did he escape?" We searched all around and found him on the carpet in front of the bowl. It had been a minute or two and there was a clear path showing where he had flopped along and rubbed off most of his scales. We promptly put him back in the bowl and watched as he treaded water and slowly began breathing more regularly. We felt sick to our stomachs and hoped that once again our Johann would prove that he was the world's toughest fish.

This morning we woke up and found him face down at the bottom of the bowl beginning to decompose. He passed away from injuries sustained from an attempted escape. We'll miss him. It's strange, but I didn't realize how many times in a day I would glance up from my chair where I nurse Van and look to see how he was doing, until he just wasn't there.

If you're still reading, you're a better friend than I am. I loved my fish. I hope he had a good life.

We're Back in the Game...

Moving fairly slowly.

People keep asking me how the adjustment to motherhood is going. It always starts a little differently depending on whether or not the person asking has made the adjustment. But the question is essentially the same. Are we surviving the inevitable lack of sleep imposed on us by our little angel. And my answer is always the same. I love it!


For the first few nights, hearing his little cry was like hearing noises on Christmas Eve as a child that you were sure were Santa Clause. It was such an amazing thing to realize each time I woke up that he was still there and that this was our little family. I will admit that after several sleepless nights, as my mom's impending departure drew nearer, there were moments when I would wake up for nighttime feeding number four and think, "Okay love, eat quick so mommy can sleep."

Having my mom here with us was so helpful and wonderful. We've planned on her coming since the first signs of Van's existence. I kept thinking, "It'll be nice to have her here. But GK's schedule is pretty flexible, so we don't really need the extra help." Boy was I wrong. It was so far beyond nice to have another pair of hands and another mind to help brainstorm why he might be so fussy.

One of the incredible blessings of having her here was her documentation of the first week of our little one's life in beautiful pictures. I couldn't pick which one was my favorite, so I decided to put a few on here. I have always been opposed to the thought of posting scantily clad pictures of my child on a fairly public forum, but these pictures turned out more beautiful than I had imagined. And I thought some of you might enjoy my mom's incredible timing in capturing the stream of pee. (Only seconds later in the cleanup, his little umilical remnant fell off. So that particular little picture caught quite a story)

I had lofty goals for my return to normal life. I made lists of all the things I would get done while he slept. It only took a day to realize that my life will move more slowly for awhile. And only another day to be really grateful for that. I'm so grateful for my days with my Van.

July 20, 2008 6:05 AM

It's hot and steamy in Brooklyn. 93 degrees yesterday. Susanna and I had been holed up in our tiny basement apartment for over 48 hours blasting the air conditioner and living on popsicles. But it wasn't because of the heat. She was suffering a latent contraction every five minutes and had been in that uncomfortable state since Thursday morning. We whittled the hours away with music and backrubs waiting for something to change. Finally, at about 9am her body seemed to give her some reprieve.

I made the dangerous mile and an half drive to Costco to stock up on the last few provisions needed before we get holed up again for a few weeks with an infant. The heat was sticky and sweat was running down my forehead and off my nose as I stuffed the last of the groceries into the back of the car and held them still with my hip so that I could reach up and close the hatch__ and then I saw myself from a distance: young guy, desperately in need of a shave, disheveled hair, thin, tired, in ill fitting and mismatched shorts and T-shirt forcing a box of 234 diapers into the back of a trying-not-to-look-like-a-station-wagon. And that was the first time it really hit me; I'm a Dad!! __ Almost.

The more I turned it over in my head the more excited I got and the faster I drove home so that I could make Susanna take a picture of me unloading the car. I was honestly having the most exciting time of my life.

Nerd

We ate a small dinner and decided that I should take advantage of the moment of peace to walk the dog, who also hadn't been outside for three days. So I harnesed him up and out we went into the heat as the sun was setting while Susanna rested.

It was almost 9 o'clock at night on a Saturday in July. People were lined up around the block at Bartlet Pritchard Square waiting to see The Dark Knight at the Pavillion Theater. There was a crowd gathered at The Bandshell in Prospect Park watching a Bruce Lee movie and laughing together at the racial stereotypes and bad dubbing. Reggie (our dog) chased the fire flies. People were playing in the shower of a fire hydrant that had been opened for a block party on 12th street and I dipped my head into the water to escape the heat.

That was when Susanna called.

I ran down 7th Avenue with the dog under my arm, through the shoppers and the resturant patrons, the water in my hair dripping onto my shirt. Running across the bridge over The Prospect Expressway I could see summer fireworks bursting above the harbor between New York and New Jersey. When I turned the corner onto 21st Street there were red and blue showers of sparks popping over the Statue of Liberty on the water down the hill from our front door.

The rest happened like clock-work. From the first, the contractions were about ten minutes apart. I gave Suzi a blessing and they soon jumped to five minutes apart. I packed a bag for the hospital and they were three minutes apart. We drove the 14 short blocks down 7th Avenue to New York Methodist and they admitted Susanna at 11pm.

An Epidural is an amazing thing. One minute my sweet wife is screaming that my breathe stinks like Blue Corn Tortilla Chips and I better stop blowing in her face, the next she is my best friend, smiling and joking. We should maybe think harder about solving more of the world's problems chemically. After three days of labor, no sleep, and little food we were both grateful she could get this bit of intervention.

Post Refreshment

I, on the other hand, was starving, despite my tortilla chips. It was about 4am and all signs showed that we still had an hour or two to go. I let Susanna get some sleep and walked across the street to the only all-night spot in our neighborhood; The Grecian Diner. It was in this little resturant that Susanna had shot a scene in a film five months earlier. And now I was the only customer, just before the sun was to come up on Sunday morning, trying to flip through the Post and eat my spinach omlette, itching to leave. I couldn't stop smiling.

I ran back to the hospital and within 15 minutes we were pushing, or at least Suzi was. She pushed for about an hour, then suddenly, there was a gulp for air, and a cry, and a new little man stepped through the door and into the Earth. Our little man. I cut the cord. His Mother said he is beautiful.

Family and Friends, without any further ramblings, allow me to present to you our son:

Van Giles Risser

6 lbs. 14 oz. 20 Inches July 20, 2008 6:05am Sunday Morning

Extreme Nesting

In an effort to prepare our humble abode for our little man, we have kicked things into high gear. Some of you have heard the stories about our apartment not fit to be published even on a blog read by small numbers... the rest of you will have to use your imagination, and feel free to let it go wild. Some day in the confidence of friends (never over food of course) we'll tell you some of our fun stories of discovery and intrigue from inside our little Brooklyn Apt.

For the last... well, basically since we moved in... we've been thinking about finding another apartment. Once we found out we'd be joined by a little one who would spend much of his time closer to the floor than we usually are, we thought even harder about it. But aside from its quirks, our apartment has some perqs that we couldn't let go of.

1. Low rent. Sure it's 3X what we paid in Denver, but it's the absolute lowest we could find without living in dangerous places. And our utilities are included, which helps us justify the length of time our AC is running :)

2. Tons of parking. We love having our car to explore and to escape, and in many neighborhoods it's impossible to find street parking.

3. Prospect Park. We are only a short walk from the most beautiful park in New York. Designed by the same men who designed Central Park, Prospect Park was considered to be their masterpiece. We go there almost every day.

4. Washer and Dryer (not coin operated). This may seem like a small thing to you westerners, but believe me... it's huge!

Whew! So with that list explanation behind me, here are a few pictures of how we've been preparing for our new addition, including a few cultural experiences we hope have seeped in. And since I'm a little technologically challenged, they're in reverse chronological order.

Mondays in Bryant Park they show old movies.

This is The Man Who Came to Dinner.

One of GK's many pregnant portraits on the street in Carroll Gardens when we went to see Wall-E.

GK's Rock Concert... oh wait I mean Fireworks display.

The people who sold us the fireworks suggested putting them on a metal ladder to see more of the fallout, but we didn't have one. Hence... the ironing board.
Maeve, Zane and I waiting patiently while the men picked out their fireworks.

This is one of the main reasons we went to Virginia for the 4th of July. Fireworks are illegal in New York. But in VA, men can run through smoke to their hearts' content.

GK and I by the Brooklyn Bridge. Partaking in ward family fun.

GK's acrobatics necessary for painting our house. This is the passage from our kitchen to our main room.

What devotion. You'll see more of these when I document the before and after pictures. Coming soon.

Our pilgrimage to the opening day of Brooklyn's Ikea. We waited in this line and then were greeted by people in Scandanavian costumes (and a couple of scary clowns) cheering and making loud noises to welcome us into the store. It was pretty cool.

The Metropolitan Opera performed in Prospect Park. GK's not mad, he's just being pensive. We are at the Opera after all.
Hmmm. After downloading all these pictures, it looks like we've been playing more than nesting. So I guess you'll just have to wait for proof that our home is ready for this little guy. It's coming. And so is he.