January 20th, 2009

Andy and Arlo





Posted by: Sarah on January 20th, 2009
[8] comments

January 11th, 2009

a plea to the god of small things

The baby album was filled with little slips of paper, upon which were scrawled the littlest and biggest of details about Jack’s infancy. So many times (and against my natural inclinations for such tasks), I would carefully jot down the most minute occasions and happenstances of his first year with the completion of this book in mind. The patent stuff of baby books was all there: smiling at 3 months, crawling at 6 months, first solid food (rice cereal), first wave hello at 11 months, his first word (was it dada? already, it’s starting to fade...). The unpatent stuff was there as well: why didn’t anyone tell us it would be this intense??; and I’m not sure our marriage will survive in tact through one more sleepless night...

There was the occasional 4 a.m. ramblings of an exhausted but overjoyed mama. I can barely keep my eyes open but I can’t stop looking at you.

There was more too. The particulars: He is 3 months old now and he giggles when Andy pretends to smell his feet and pass out; and When you are awake and alert to your surroundings, your lips form the most circle while you look around.

The love letters: a couple weeks before he was born, Andy and I stayed up late, each of us writing a letter to him. We wrote about how excited we were to meet him and how nervous. About how much we wanted for him in his life--all the love and laughter the world can hold. I can’t remember the small things of that letter, but I know I wrote about feeling him move in my belly; I know I wrote about how I felt I knew him already. Andy’s letter was funny and sweet, and I imagined Jack reading it when he was grown, smiling and perhaps a bit teary.

There was a lock of his soft red baby hair in the book.

There was a list of all the songs we would sing to soothe him.

There was the story of his birth written there, of how he was born into the world screaming and quieted down as soon as he heard his daddy whisper, hi baby.

My ultrasound pictures were cut and pasted into the book. His footprints taken in the hospital, in the first moments of his life, they were there too. We’ve lost all of this. All the details and so much more too. Everything in that book was a love letter, written not only to him as a baby, but written also to our older selves, to the people we would be in twenty years when we felt like looking back, trying to remember the feel of things as they are now .

Arlo’s book was lost too. It was obviously much less filled out than Jack’s book, but in that, too, were already irrevocable memories.

I feel like we’ve lost the story of us becoming a family.

And so, with urgent hope, I’m releasing a prayer into the ether: please please please let these books find their way back to us.


Posted by: Sarah on January 11th, 2009
[4] comments

January 8th, 2009

Resolving (or is it “Resoluting”?): Part 1

I will forgive myself more often.

I will knit a scarf to match my new winter coat. I will finish it before spring. See above if I don’t.

I will throw away underwear that I don’t wear anymore (why is this so hard to do?) and all socks that have even the beginnings of a hole in them or that don’t have a match. I will give up the dream of finding the match. I will do this tomorrow. Or the next day.

I will post on this blog at least twice a month. Hopefully more. It’s the only journal of my family that I’ve got, and I want to be kinder to it.

I will re-subscribe to the New Yorker. I feel like a more interesting person when I read it.

I will definitely finish one chapter of my dissertation this semester. Must. Trudge. Forth. If I can pull another one out of the air, I will celebrate by throwing myself a small, quaint wine and chocolate party with close friends. I will do this regardless. By the end of January to be exact (the wine and chocolate part, that is).

Posted by: Sarah on January 8th, 2009
[2] comments

December 31st, 2008

Going Public

Light Fantastik has gone public. No more login screens to shelter us from the crazies. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about this since there is that mustache/tattoo picture of me on here and I have a feeling that it will end up being printed out and pasted all over my office. Oh the humanity.

This decision is largely due to the fact that one of the packages we sent US Post from Florida back to ourselves in NYC only contained some of our items. The package did not look like it had been tampered with, but after noticing that the box was incomplete I then saw a tiny little white sticker that read: “Reconditioned by Jacksonville, FL Bulk Media”.  What is even more alarming is that the box contained a tube of shampoo, an elementary school science book, a Fourth of July parade advertisement, and a half eaten, er..., can of peanuts that are not ours.

I’ve been told by the Jacksonville, FL Bulk Media Center that most likely our box opened in transit and that they tried their best to repackage it.  Our missing items may be on their way to the Recovery Center in Atlanta, GA.  But, our main concern is that this is not the case and that someone else has our stuff. Most likely starving for peanuts and behind in her science homework.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t care that much. Stuff is stuff and most everything can be replaced. But it was at around 3:30 AM this morning Sarah awoke in horror to realize that the missing items included Jack and Arlo’s baby books and some other photo albums.

So, our hope is that Google will do it’s indexing magic and our lives will be searchable. People will see how cool Jack is and send us back his baby book.  Public humiliation is a small price to pay for precious memories.

We’ll keep you all updated.

Posted by: Andy on December 31st, 2008
[3] comments

December 18th, 2008

Dear Santa,

Can I have a ship?

I want my own chapstick.

A pop-up ball machine.

My own big baseball team that has hockey players.

I would like a pop-up popcorn machine.

And my own sunscreen.

Love, Jack

P.S. Arlo wants a pacifier. Or a mobile. He needs a new thermometer for checking his ears. That’s all.

Love, Jack again


Posted by: Sarah on December 18th, 2008
[6] comments

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