Cracking Up

I promise not to turn this into a video blog, because there's a lot that happens between clips as it were. But this like snippet of tape is pretty magic. More soon!

The Throne

I am racked with guilt for not posting is such a long time, but it's been even more off the charts-busy than usual for reasons you all know and because little FLP was on a sleep strike last week and threw our schedules totally out of whack.

So this seat -- called a bumbo seat -- is designed for infants to practice sitting up. Here's Finnegan's first time. It's pretty funny.

Happy New Year

I am supposed to be deep in research right now, but writing this blog is more fun. It's the first day of 2009 and we had a lazy day of cooking. It's cold outside (-7 C), but we still managed a trip to the grocery store with Finn in the Ergo carrier (thanks Renate and Walt!).

The last few months have been a hectic time here in Queens, not least because of our little Finn and trying to stay on top of work. However, I thought it would be fun to try and sum up a few of Finnegan's personality traits for 2008:

1) Loves travel: the one sure-fire thing that will calm the little guy down is to carry him around the apartment;

2) Loves art: he stares and stares and Gord's, D'Arcy's, and Blackwood's paintings;

3) Pouts just like Veronica (you could shelter a whole family under that lower lip);

4) Has a bright smile that makes his eyes into little slits, which makes him a funny mix of Veronica and Bri (see double chin!).

Another fun little development is that Veronica has begun to pump (thanks Lee and Bri!), which means I get to feed Finn once in a while. It's satisfying for us both, and Veronica gets a break!

The most exciting recent developments have been that Finnegan has started to make eye contact and really recognize us. Seems like a small thing, but when it happened the first time it was easily the biggest rush of my life. And just in the last couple of weeks, Finn has begun to make speech-like noises and even to laugh. It is truly incredible. Here's a little video that illustrates what I mean:

Merry Christmas

A huge thanks to Lee, Bri, Renate, and (of course!), Walt for the love and support in this first seven weeks with Finnegan, and really for all the love and support down through the years. We couldn't have made it without you all. Merry Christmas, and see you soon! xoxo A,V,F,&T

Finnegan's First Music Video

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It's Finn's first Christmas and since we will not be traveling this year, we had to make sure we had a proper tree:


And later that day Angela and Pia came by for a visit, and I mean to visit Finnegan not us!

What's WIth "P'Nut," Anyway?

When we first found out that Veronica was pregnant the sonogram technician pointed to this picture and said:

"He's about the size of a walnut." Something about that cracked us up and when we told Lee and Bri they immediately shouted back, "P'Nut" and killed themselves with laughter. We thought it sounded funny, but also that there had to be more to the story. So here's Lee's explination, which goes back 35 years:

"Hi Anno, the story goes like this. Phyllis has a French Canadian friend named Marie - you may have met her? Anyway they were having drinks and Phyllis asked her to passs the peanuts. Marie answered that the "p'nuts" were all gone. Well gales of laughter ensued and we have never called them anything else. Would you? Love and kisses to you all, Granny"

And what else could we call our little guy, excpet P'Nut? Although we did give me another name, just so they don't beat him up in the school yard!

We're Amateurs!

It was my first week back at work full time, and there was a SILLY amount to catch up on. On the home front, Veronica was home alone with Finnegan, and learning to manage the day without an extra set of hands. It was a tough week, with overload coming from all sources: the office and Finnegan, who seems to have grown more fussy these last seven days.

To all our wonderful family and friends: Thanks so much for your phone calls and support. We promise to call back soon! Right now, we are just a little overloaded with work and home life. We love & miss you!

The Milk Bar

No, I'm not referring to the Burgess' classic novel, but rather my lovely wife. There's a phenomenon with infants called cluster feeding in which the baby nurses every hour, or more, for a whole afternoon or evening. Naturally, it tests Veronica's patience because she ends up "pinned under a baby" for hours on end. It means that I must channel Martha Stewart and get food on the table and take of other household stuff. The really funny thing about cluster feeding is that Finnegan ends up looking like an overfilled water balloon, as well as becoming somewhat stoned and dopey on the milk. Check out this video to see what I mean:

Turkey Day

It's American Thanksgiving so Veronica and I are having a feast for two (three if you count the belated Turkey-Shake Finnegan will get; sorry Tinker). We were unable to attend the Caulkins' this year, which is a shame because we would have loved to introduce the little guy to the extended family!

Anyway, our turkey weighs 9.7 pounds and Finnegan only 9.6 pounds. But don't worry, I assure you that this is not A Modest Proposal!

All Finnegan, All The Time

Veronica has posted new photos of the little guy to our Shutterfly account. Here's the link: http://finneganlucas.shutterfly.com/

Enjoy!
xo
A, V, & F

Hey, Bri, he snores just like you!

And then, he FINALLY, sleeps quietly:

The Michelin Man

It's cold today in New York, so we had to be prepared!

Some other fun pics:

Back at home, Veronica has her hands full!!

A Place is the People You Are With

"A place is the people you are with" was etched into a urinal in Budapest. I was living in Europe, traveling without much of a compass and I thought it an apt way to remind you to value the companionship you found along the way.

On Friday, a co-working of mine asked me what I had planned for the weekend. I have a three week old child, so we are therefore: changing diapers, feeding him, changing diapers, cleaning up spit-up, changing diapers, wandering aimlessly around the apartment (see Nov 16th post w/ video; Finnegan already likes travel), changing diapers, shopping, cleaning, trying to nap, and changing diapers. It was a smart-ass reply and my unmarried pal laughed and said it wasn't a convincing argument for having kids.

The thing is, I was totally looking forward to the weekend and doing all this stuff with the fam. I appreciate this sounds nuts, but it's hard to describe to the uninitiated the thrill of being with your kid and your partner. When I first met Veronica, it's like I grew a new emotion that caused me to become a much deeper person. When we had Finnegan, a similar thing happened, but not only had this new person created a whole new territory in my emotional life, but the emotional landscape that Veronica and I shared became so much richer. So much so that I look forward to changing diapers soon.

So the weekend is a place full of my favorite people and there's no other place I'd rather be.

A hiccup, sneeze, cough, yawn, and a ___.

Ok, this post is really only for those related to us, because I can't imagine anyone else in the world caring. I will say this, it is incredible how much the bodily functions of your child can become the subject of so much fascination, speculation, and conversation. It's truly embarrassing when I think about it. Anyway, I continue to experiement with a new camera. This little film has an explosive ending, so listen carefully!

The Generosity of New Yorkers

A phenomenon that has bowled us over is the outpouring of generosity of New Yorkers. Friends, friends of friends, and strangers have all helped us along the way.

I should say now just how incredibly lucky Veronica and I are to have such caring and devoted parents. It seems that a week hasn't gone by in the last few months when a box doesn't arrive with various things for Finnegan -- new, used, handmade -- from Brian and Lee. And the Suters, too, have help in so many ways, big and small. Patient advice and stories from their early parenting life have helped us figure out what we are doing with perspective and humor.

Added to their wisdom and help have been so many New Yorkers who have helped us get by on our small budget and thereby relieved so much pressure that every parent feels, especially at the beginning. The novelist A.M Homes and her daughter Juliet have been particularly generous by literally giving us carloads of baby furniture and gear. The staff at PEN have been wonderfully supportive, particularly those who are already parents; PEN Members -- Jaime Manrique, Lilly Tuck and others -- with whom I have had the privileged to work with over the years have also been so thoughtful these last weeks. Pia Lovenbruck, one of Veronica's best friends, threw not one, but TWO showers for Veronica (bridal and baby)! Whoa. Some close pals, Colin and Tessa have been their for us in clutch moments, like driving us home from the hospital and always answering the weird, specific, and sometimes deeply personal questions.

Here's a picture of Colin in a tree:
And the lovely, Tessa, doing her moves for "Stop in the Name of Love," with their son, Snowy-D (it's a stage name we use to protect his real identity from fans):

There are more people, too, friends far and near, but also those random NYers who have helped out just because it's a damn hard place to live, this city, and most here who are struggling know this, are humbled by it, and understand the need for us all to help each other out. They can certainly count on us.

Walking Around the Apartment....

That is, me walking around the apartment. Here's a little video experiment with our digital camera starring Finnegan. It's not action packed. The best way I can think to describe it is to borrow an expression from Walt: hypnotized egg.

Enjoy, and I promise more to come.

Gord's Next Show

We're all very excited that Gordo's next exhibit will be a part of KCLF-21 Press's "Stories that Bind Festival" on Saturday November 22. If you're in T.O. be sure to check it out. Veronica, Finnegan, and I are totally bummed we can't be there. You can check out Gord's art online here.

Good luck, Gordo! And big thanks to Sandy who made it all happen.

Tinker's Timing

By Wednesday, we were beginning to learn some new routines. I should say now just how amazing Veronica was with Finnegan. Right away she was handling him like she'd done it all before; she was calm, cool and collected, while I scurried around the apartment doing my best Martha Stewart impression in the way of house work and cooking. I have been surprised how much fun I've had as house dad, so far. You'll have to ask Veronica whether the food was any good!

The first few days were incredibly busy and full of so many new experiences. Imagine, I'd never, ever, changed a diaper before November 2! We were tired and wired at the same time, and a little bewildered, as we tried to figure out what the little guy needed!

Friday was our first visit to the pediatrician, and Veronica's first venture outside since our return from the hospital (which was, thank God, totally uneventful since our pal Colin and Tessa so generously took time out of their crazy schedule to drive us home). We were able to walk -- very slowly -- to and from the doctor's office. Finnegan passed his check-up with flying colors. He'd gained weight and grew an inch.

We arrived back home to find Tinker, our cat, flipping out. He was literally bouncing off the walls like he's some crazed Vietnam Vet having a flash back. When we finally managed to get a hold of him and he was burning up: his nose, ears, and paws were very hot. So, I packed him into the carrier and down we went to the veterinarian, Tinker yowling the whole way there, drawing looks askance from other pedestrians as though I were some kind of pet torturer.

They took blood, did an x-ray, injected an antibiotic, and -- most humiliating -- gave Tinker an enema. He had a temperature of 104. Three hours later, he seemed even more hyperactive and crazed, though the vet assured me all would be right by morning. I was handed vial of antibiotic that I was supposed inject orally every day and a bill for $500. Uhg.

The first thing Tinker did when we arrived home was throw up. Within a few minutes, Finnegan was crying and the cat was howling. We were starving. It's was a long night, as you can imagine.

The next morning, the whole family was exhausted. Veronica and I sat in the bathroom with Tinker, who was not happy about the situation, contemplating how to administer the antibiotic. We grab him by the neck, stick the oral syringe in his mouth and try to shoot the medication down his throat, just as instructed. The cat goes crazy, scratches loose from my grip, and crashes around the bathroom. He's shaking his mouth and spraying the thick yellow antibiotic everywhere. We were covered in the stuff and bickering. I looked at Veronica and said, possibly the dumbest thing I've ever said, "Do you think it tastes bad?"


Anyway, the vet is kind and agreed to let his assistants administer the anitbiotic. So at 4:30 for the next five days, I put Tinker in his carrier (each day he resisted a little more) and Martha gave him the shot. Tinker is back to his normal, mellow self now. Many thanks to the lovely, patient staff over a AAA Veterinarian Clinic on Northern Blvd.

They say the first week home with a new born really kicks your ass. Veronica and I can attest to that, and certainly so can Tinker.

First Day Home

Our first day at home as a family is election day. There were no major lines here in Jackson Heights, so I was in and out of the polling station in about 10 minutes. The rest of the evening Veronica I spent with Finnegan, but with one eye on the TV.

Here we are (Finnegan, Tinker and Me) watching the election results:



It was such a thrilling night and I was so overwhelmed that I cried again when we knew Obama would win. This is not a political blog and I intend only to mention the election this one time, but let me say just a little. Obama has lots of flaws, and I am under no illusion that he is going to "save" anyone. But, the choice to me was simple: McCain, Palin, Clinton everyone else wanted me to be afraid, just like George Bush wanted me to be afraid. There was very little positive, hopeful, or enthusiastic in anything they had to say. They preached fear and intolerance. To me, that is not what America has ever been about. I wasn't born here, didn't grow up here, but I know enough to know that this country is built on hope and on tolerance, and the idea that the best is yet to come. That is why American's elected Obama and it's the political spirit and age I hope Finnegan will grow up in.

Remember this from our most famous symbol:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

P'Nut's Name on the "Outside"

I should say a huge Thank You to Renate and Walt who generously paid for a private room at Lenox Hill. It meant that I could crash in the room with my wonderful wife and new born child. What an amazing night. I probably wouldn't have slept except that I was so exhausted -- physically, emotionally -- that I was unconscious within minutes of lying down. But it was so great to wake up with the family!

Name deliberations continued later that day with a new urgency since I had to file a thick sheaf of paper work (death and taxes, death and taxes). It was up in the air until the last second.

Later, I went home to feed the cat, take a shower and send this e-mail:

Dear Friends,

Finnegan Lucas Proctor was born on November 2, 2008 at 5:44 PM at Lenox Hill Hospital. He weighs 7 pounds 13 ounces and is in perfect health, as is his mother. Veronica's labor began at 4 a.m. on Sunday and she endured magnificently. Picture attached. We are staying at the hospital again tonight and look forward to being home sometime tomorrow. As I am sure you can imagine, we are tremendously excited and a little overwhelmed, so your patience is greatly appreciated if we don't call or write back right away.

Yrs,

Andrew, Veronica, & Finnegan

Here's the picture I attached:

Does this look like a good breakfast after a marathon?

This is seriously what they served Veronica for breakfast after 12 hours of labor and nearly 24 without food!

Marathon Day -- Part II

It's around 1:30 in the afternoon when we were admitted to Lenox Hill hospital. While I filled out paperwork, Veronica was taken to a birthing room. When I returned to the maternity ward, a nurse told me Veronica was ready for an epidural. It sounded strange to me, but I was ready to believe anything at this point. When I got to the room, Veronica had no idea what I was talking about.

But here's the thing, in Lenox Hill's maternity ward 97% of all women give birth using an epidural so the nurses simply assumed Veronica would too. And I suppose one of the great frustrations in the whole process has been to get doctors and nurses to listen and treat us like human beings. In fact, to insist on information and manners is being "high maintenance." Anyway, we approached labor neither militantly against nor for pain medication, but Veronica wanted as little medical intervention as possible.

What can I say about labor, other than while I did what little I could, Veronica handled the pain magnificently. She was truly heroic and incredible to watch.

At around 4:30, the pain was overwhelming and she was ready for an epidural. An anesthesiologist was called, but in the meantime our OB blows-in carrying a department store shopping bag, wearing a pink golf shirt and jeans.

"How's it goin?"

I ask you, what kind of question is that? Asking a woman deep in labor, How's it going? How do you think it's going?

Anyway, there's no time for an epidural. The baby is here and Veronica begins to push. She screams, and I am terrified for her. To see my best pal in that kind of pain is possibly the most difficult moment of my life. I am near tears, but there's no time to cry.

And then, P'Nut arrives:
It was probably the most miraculous moment of my life that I will never remember. Never remember because it so intense, so incredible, so filled with love and excitement that it left almost no sensory imprint. It's as close to understanding Kundera's "unbearable lightness of being" as I will ever get, I would imagine.

I cried. Veronica was tough, excited, exhausted. We called our families, and I was a mess.

After about two hours, P'Nut (still unnamed) was taken to the nursery. I followed, while Veronica rested. The nursery was just as you would imagine it: windows that faced the hallway where parents watched the dozens of babies get weighed, measured, tested, and injected by nurses who handle these impossibly little, fragile creatures like their tenderloins being prepared for supper. Ok, maybe that's an overstatement, but my look of shock and awe was shared by other new fathers as we watched the nurses handle our new children with indifferent professional precision.

And then, we were in the room together with him. Veronica dozed and P'Nut did too. I was suddenly ravenous, and left the sleeping beauties to get some food. It's now 11:30 PM and our marathon day is nearly over, but really I don't want it to end. After some searching, I find a diner with a liquor license on 1st Ave. I sit at the counter and ball my eyes out while I order two beers and cheese burger with fries.

Marathon Day -- Part I

Labor began around 4 a.m. on Sunday, November 2. I think I knew around 6 a.m. We spent the morning timing contractions, double checking our bags, and saying things like, "I can't believe it," as though this were a surprise and not something for which we'd been preparing these past 10 months.

But overall, it was orderly. We were prepared. We'd been to classes, read thick books, and talked to other new-ish parents. We had a three page labor plan. Our doctor was on-board. And even though we were surprised it was TODAY, we thought it through. I even looked up the route of the New York City Marathon, which was taking place that day, so we wouldn't get caught in traffic. I was further reassured when we called the doctor and he suggested the best way to get to the hospital.

We called the cab. It arrived in seven minutes (lucky seven!). We were cruising along comfortably through Queens, the Tri-Borough bridge, and then down the FDR. The problem: every exit was closed with police barriers. We were screwed. Veronica was leaning against the door of the cab, eyes closed, and was moaning every few minutes. The cab driver was looking at me in the rear view mirror with increasing desperation. We pulled over at the next exit and I hopped out onto the narrow shoulder of the highway (how this plan was concocted, I don't remember). I ran to the barricades to plead our case to a helmeted cop, traffic howling past us. The NYPD officer gave me a wry smile and said something to the effect, "You think you're the first pregnant couple stuck in New York traffic?" After some further pleading he pointed to the driver and motioned him to drive over the curb across the sidewalk and up the blocked ramp. The driver looked at me vaguely shaking his head "no," even though we both knew that's what we'd do. We bumped up onto the curb, across the sidewalk, and then down (with a metallic crash that makes us all wince) onto the street. The hospital was only five minutes away. Crisis averted.

Or not.

We drove west, but were stopped by another barricade on York Ave. I saw, a block away, the runners heading up 1st Ave. Once again, I was out of the cab talking to the police who shrugged, telling me they weren't stopping the marathon just so we can cross 1st Ave and there's no two ways about it, we're going to have to drive south to 57th street to cross over to 3rd Ave.

I heard Veronica groan in the cab.

It was obvious that I was not going to make any headway with the NYPD and my faith in them as defender of the people has collapsed. How could some stupid foot race be more important than the safe birth of a child? Anyway, no dice, we're already heading south to 57th street.

57th street, it turns out, was a parking lot, because EVERYBODY had been sent to 57th st. The cab driver and I were sharing rage and disgust now for the New York machine (that, and I am sure the cabbie wasn't exactly elated by the prospect of the mess an in-cab birth would make of his back seat; none the less I felt he'd gone through a conversion from seeing this journey as his worst nightmare to something more like a mission). We pulled up beside a police van stuffed with the Boys in Blue. This is futile, I think, but since we're not going anywhere we might as well have a pointless conversation.

"You want an escort?" the driver of the police van asked, after hearing our situation.

"Ummm, yeah?"

Lights, sirens, the works. We tore along 57th and then up 3rd Ave. The cab driver freaked out as he tries to keep close behind the van. Cars in all the other lanes kept trying to nose in behind the police in the New York tradition of taking advantage of the wake behind emergency vehicles to get across town fast. So we swerved and bounced in the tight traffic.

Veronica's eyes are closed, and she is lost in concentration. Her face tightens in regular spasms.

At 77th street, the police van pulled into the intersection to block traffic so we can make the corner quickly, and as we do the cabbie waved and the officer leans out his window and we made eye contact: "Good luck, buddy!" he said in a Brooklyn accent.

We had arrived at the hospital.

The Day Before

I write now with the unfair clarity of hindsight. The day before you were born Finnegan, your mother and I went to Central Park, which is among the most beautiful "working" parks in the world. I say "working" because it is not a highly cultivated botanical touch-me-not park, but rather a well worn park, lived in like a pair of faded blue jeans you've had forever. Baseball games are played, kids romp, couples make out, performers pass hats, boats are rowed, birthday parties throw, concerts performed.

November 1 was a gorgeous autumn day. Warm, colorful, sunny. All you could want from NYC in the fall. We took the R train from Queens and wandered north into the park, ended up on the promenade. Street performers -- jugglers, sax players, clowns -- were on the make everywhere and people were gobbling it up. The park was jammed with people soaking up the day. We ended up at the pond, ate a chocolate and banana crepe (you mother wanted chocolate, banana, AND strawberry). We shared it watching the rowers on the pond and listening to Edith Piaf's voice drifting from an unseen speaker.

Any Day Now

So I am starting a dreaded blog, because I am on the edge of fatherhood and my family, and my wife's family live abroad (or is that my wife and I are the ones that live abroad? and I want them to be as much a part of the journey as they can stand.

That Veronica and I are about to become Veronica, Andrew, and _______ is still too difficult for me to really grasp, except in the highly abstract way. A pal of mine -- a new father -- described having a child as simultaneously miraculous and mundane. Miraculous because you've created life, mundane because just about everyone can do it. Whoa. He said this to me while pushing his very beautiful girl on a swing set in Fort Greene (an old NYC neighborhood of mine) and it seems to sum up a mixed feeling I get when, at work, I describe the latest tiny development in our pregnancy and know that I am boring the person I have trapped in the kitchen. Happily, my co-workers are patient and understanding and my wife is a saint.