| This feels important.
I don’t think it’s a
privacy concern to share in this space that Young Master Caleb’s birthday is October 14. He turned two on a
grey, rain-soaked Friday, the first of the season. We had celebrated his
birthday the weekend before with friends and family in our home. The actual day
wasn’t meant to be anything out of the ordinary – save for one thing. Emmelle and I both took the day off
from work to visit his new school (day care) with him prior to transitioning fully the
following Monday. We intended for the day to begin with a visit to his new
Montessori day care and conclude with birthday cake (or “cape” as he calls it).
Like many celebrations, it was a day for ends and beginnings. We also meant for it to be void of surprises and emotions. Whoops.
Before I share any further, I’d like to go back a year (since of course, I don’t actually document anything on this blog). During a frenetic September/October 2015, we sold our condo in West Oakland and simultaneously moved to a single family home further east in the Oakland Hills. Fortuitously, a Montessori school resides just a block down the road from our new home. Emmelle immediately placed a deposit to secure a spot for Young MC for when he turned two. Montessori schools are extremely highly regarded for young children. These activities felt like things that good, caring parents would do - moving away from the hipster confines of West Oakland into a more suburban neighborhood, looking forward to advancing his educational prospects. We discovered a vacant spot at another nearby day care for Young MC to spend his next year. Miss Jenny, the only nanny he ever had, said her final goodbye shortly after we moved. It was not a difficult decision; she had expressed that our new home was an arduous trek each day and Young MC had reached an age in which it became more difficult for her to effectively care for him as her expertise resided with younger babies. He did not seem to harbor explicit notions of attachment either, perhaps simply a symptom of how young he still was at the time. In short, this first move did not feel like we deprived him of anything he truly cherished. ………. I remember the first day we escorted him to his new school – just a quick visit to acclimate him to his new surroundings, not unlike what we intended to do on his second birthday. We sat our little munchkin at the meal table with his new friends for snack time, and he immediately took to the activity. It was a great relief, it was incredibly adorable, it was his new life for several hours a day. That is not to say that the transitional phase was void of difficulty. We certainly experienced our fair share of crying during morning drop offs and endured the pangs of guilt that all parents do. It’s difficult to recall that he had not taken his first steps by this point. Young MC, ever the cautious fellow, had physically developed long before this time to stand on his own – and possibly inch one foot forward. But he chose not to, not until he reached 14 months. Instead, he would immediately squat down and position himself back to what was most familiar. And as “good, caring” parents should do, this guarded personality would alter how we thought about his transition.
He quickly grew comfortable at his new school and
found comfort with one teacher in particular - Miss L. Over time, he sought
her out in the mornings. Young MC would practically shoo me away as long as he
had Miss L close by. She texted us pictures and videos. At school, he
giggled, he learned to wipe his nose, he ran in circles with his classmates and
squealed cheerfully. He established his full appreciation for
anything with wheels - trains, trucks, buses, airplanes and tractors. I'm certain he came home with a couple of bite marks on his arms because that appreciation was a little too strong and selfish =).
The seasons passed all too quickly. During an arid
Indian Summer, we debated sending him to school in tank tops. As fall turned to
colder months and a harsh rain, Young MC caught every cold possible – for what
seemed like months and months. He healed and grew stronger. The rains gave birth to a warm spring. The kids played outside; Young MC left day care each day with a handful
of playground sand in his shoes as evidence. He came home with food stains, art work and
the occasional Ouchie Report. Then came the summer and his first official
“summer break”. And then fall. A year passed.
……….
We arrived at the
Montessori school on Friday morning. The school, a converted home in our
neighborhood, rests behind a heavy wooden gate facing the street. We walked inside
to find a colorful playground and outdoor toys to the right – large dinosaurs
and trucks. On the left, up a small flight of stairs is the patio leading to
the school. The patio is jammed with shoes, kids’ outerwear of all sizes into
personalized cubbies. On this rainy day, there were rain boots and jackets adorned everywhere.
Amidst all of this, I found a hand-written cubie with Young MC’s name on it. Once
the teachers admitted us inside, Young MC carefully watched older children
participating in a variety of activities – most commonly in self-contained
environments. A couple of children cried. The teachers explained that they were
newer students, only having been at the school for “two to three weeks”. I had
been mentally preparing for about a week of hardship in the morning drop-off.
Perhaps it would be much worse. Young MC clung to his mom tightly and
would not budge without the confidence of knowing she would be right next to
him. More than anything else in his first two years, we’ve learned that he is
an introvert. It takes a series of interactions for him to develop a comfort
with anyone.
So how could we
really alter his routine?
We left in less than
an hour and drove a short way to his school. We joked uneasily in the car ride
about how difficult the following week would be. We both
silently wondered how much stress this would put on our little guy. He rubbed his eyes
in his car seat, already tired from having woken up so early in the morning. I
felt sad knowing what he didn’t know. Today would be his last day with Miss
L and his familiar environment.
Young MC refused to
walk down the corridor, and we carried him down the hallway to his classroom.
Miss L greeted us
at the door, and he reached out for her immediately. She picked him up and
squeezed him firmly; he rested his tired head on her chest and rubbed his eyes –
an intimate move he perhaps does only with his mom. Miss L gave him a kiss,
believing this to be the very last time she would be doing so. She handed us a wrapped package. A birthday gift.
I stepped back and
walked down the hallway, fighting off a sudden burst of emotion. I couldn’t
pinpoint it to one thing but a confluence of factors. The feeling that tugged
at me most was this growing dilemma that Young MC was unknowingly saying goodbye to somebody
whom he truly loves. And no matter how limited his cognitive and emotional
abilities are at age two, it's undeniable that he understands want and loss, Emmelle
finished her goodbyes and caught up to me towards the front door. She had tears
in her eyes. We stepped out and briskly walked back to our car with the rain
steadily pouring down. Emmelle wept. I fought back some tears. She wondered
out loud if she should run back inside and plead to retain his spot.
Plans change. Emmelle resiliently darted back into the school to reverse course on a decision we’d been working
toward for a year. We were not concerned about losing the security deposit,
only to ensure the optimal environment for our son. Moments passed and I watched
as my wife walked slowly back toward the car, wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh no, we are too late”, I thought to
myself. It turns out these were tears of relief. Thankfully, the daycare
principal immediately assured Emmelle that Young MC would be welcomed back with
open arms. We sat in the car silently for a moment, listening to the soft rain
fall on the roof of the car. It was one of those moments as husband-and-wife in
which you can have a silent conversation. Score this day a win for good parenting.
We drove to a nearby
diner and reflected on the morning over a hot cup of coffee. In the grand
scheme of all things, this is merely a blip on the radar. But on that day and
even looking back in retrospect more than a week later, it feels important. We
understand that we can’t shield our son from all discomforts throughout life. But we can bring pause every so often. He is still of a tender
age in which shielding and guarding feels synonymous with helping him to grow
and develop. I’m sure parental books say otherwise. I actually don't care beyond the grinning toddler that we see in front of us. Lo and behold, his new day care allowed us to defer the transition for another year. Security deposit not wasted and honestly, the best possible outcome. But yes, we will be going through this again next year.
For the record, we
stopped by one of our favorite bakeries in the area and picked up a Tres Leches
cake. He blew out two candles. And then he did it one more time. Happy
Birthday, son. Omma and Ahpa love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve written
this:
Thanks for stopping
by.
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It has been a long time. Gone and lost are many of the
things that I’ve meant to write about over the last several months – small,
inconsequential stories that have helped keep me sane while transitioning to
fatherhood of a toddler, selling our condo and buying a single family home,
leaving my job of ten years and starting anew. All of these momentous things
that have unfolded over these last few months, I am hoping I can revisit.
But the days are short, real responsibilities seemingly
endless. This little digital haven is often neglected.
Nevertheless…
Speaking of my new job, my travel is significantly reduced
but I’ve found myself in the Seattle area a few times now. With each visit, I
expect it to be my last for a while, only to be summoned for some new, distinct
reason. There are two outstanding sushi joints that I have laid claim on as my
own – one of the two is called Tsukushinbo. It is a fantastic, local spot that
surprisingly doesn’t show up in all of the Top Lists – a farcical outcome
purely from a lack of a marketing arm. But its better if this one stays off the
radar and owned by true connoisseurs of Japanese fare.
They have a fair amount of cooked dishes (I’ve tried a
limited amount) that satiate on a cold Seattle winter night, but it’s the omakase
that is worth noting in my opinion. At time of writing, the chef’s choice
combines ~15 highly creative and well-sourced pieces, many of which come from
the famed fish market – all for a cool $55. GET OUT OF TOWN. What a bargain.
Paired with craft Japanese import beers, this is my preferred Seattle spot.
Thanks for stopping by. Keep the faith, more posts coming.
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There are a couple of monumental things that have happened in our life since my last post and this one will screw with the chronology of it all, but c'mon, our son turned one! Here is a quick synopsis of what the past year has been like. Kudos to the ever-warm, always-motherly Emmelle and happy birthday to our dear son. Thanks for stopping by. |
Back when I wrote volume I of this tome in February of 2014,
I left devout readers ABSOLUTELY hanging by concluding that I would write more
on the topic in six months. Alas, I never did!
I am happy to announce that the opportunities to write more
on this topic with all of this gear in my mouth will (should) be short-lived. October 9. That’s the scheduled date for
extraction, and I couldn’t be more excited. Looking back on the whole thing – a
full two years has come and passed – I realize now that there is really nothing
of interest to say about it. Its uncomfortable, its annoying, its slightly
embarrassing; that sentiment doesn’t fluctuate in the slightest.
Save just one thing.
It has been remarkable to watch Young Master Caleb reach milestones – both physical and mental. The
advances he has achieved after hitting ten months have especially been
impressive and stunning. It feels like an awakening of sorts, starting to get
to a place in both mind and body with full realization of self and his
environment.
Just a handful of weeks ahead of this recent development
however, Young MC had reached a point in his progress to recognize that
something was peculiar or at least unique regarding the contents of my mouth.
He would curiously poke and prod and stare inquisitively. Or we might be
playing together. He yields a smile, I smile; he stares and ceases all
activity. The prodding commences. It’s time to investigate this familiar man’s
teeth again. His eyes basically scream, “WHAT IS THIS?”
He will of course not recall any of this in future years.
But for the time being, I must appear monstrous. And if not for familiarity, there
would be no affection or interaction awarded. I would be like another stranger
– accept a grizzly machine-like version. Don’t get me wrong; it feels warm and
wonderful when he shoves his index finger into my mouth. Yet it’s a harsh
reminder veiled in a cute pudgy finger.
You are different. You are not supposed to have this all over my teeth. All
would say the same if not for the niceties demanded by our society.
October 9 cannot come soon enough.
Thanks for stopping by.
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The majority of my visits to NYC keep me confined to the
midtown / Times Square area. In fact, I’ve had some depressing business trips
in which all of my dinner meals are prepared and delivered by hotel staff. At times it’s unavoidable with the amount of
work and people meeting necessary in a condensed amount of time. But it engenders
an unbreakable, unwanted habit. As the
kids say, this falls within the range of a “first world problem”. But who cares
– I live in the first world. And this is a problem.
With Young MC’s
arrival, my east coast trips have (fortunately) been less frequent. And those
less frequent trips have become shorter as well. Gone are the trips in which I
would bridge two weeks’ of meetings with a drunk fest weekend in Washington
D.C. So, I should be making the most
of these less frequent, shorter trips? Otherwise I would find myself in a perpetual loop of
the worst kind of business travel, the ones in which all of the minor perks you
lean on to get you through the week are null and void.
A couple of trips ago, I made my first visit to Brooklyn
(really, after like 30ish previous travels to NYC). On my most recent jaunt, I
made a solo dinner reservation at a place called Tanoshi – an unassuming
omakase joint on the upper east side. I am getting adventurous!
Tanoshi consistently popped up on high grade sushi
establishments I researched in the city. The lone one I’ve previously been to
was Sushi Yasuda near Grand Central. The omakase menu by itself is worth a
trip. 10-12 pieces plus opportunity to order anything else on the menu a la
carte. There are just a few seats in the diminutive, unassuming establishment –
all things to help you get into a mode of focusing on nothing but stripped down
fish. But when you add the ~$75 cost and bring-your-own-beer/wine/sake, it
turns into an incredible deal.
And you know that I’m the be-all-end-all authority on raw
fish. Remember, I’m the dude who ate here. I will brag about that until I die.
Seriously, if I’m talking sushi with anyone, a reference to that leads to
wide-eyed bewilderment and awe. It instantaneously provides a legitimacy like
few things in my material-driven life. “This
guy is SERIOUS about his fish.”
Anyway, finding top grade sushi joints on any of our travels
is always a priority for me - whether its professional or personal travel. I might as well try to seek them out more frequently to
the food mecca I visit more than any other.
Thanks for stopping by.
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My first Father’s Day came and went. I find the holiday pretty much nonsensical – unless of course you are a male parent raising your child(ren) on your own. In my first eight months as a parent, I can say without hesitation that dads serve as much utility as this blog. By this blog, I mean, this blog. Certainly, parents will carve out a day-to-day rhythm with distinguished responsibilities. But take the father out of the equation and everyone will comfortably survive (thrive) to the next day. And the one after that. The other way around? Anarchy, destruction, complete chaos. I don’t know about you but I can’t envision domestic anarchy without visualizing a kitchen faucet run amok and potato chips splayed across the counter. Devastation! Its what would happen if Emmelle exited stage GreensandBrowns for more than a night. Its hard to fathom the thought. Perhaps I am being excessive in my critique of our (collective fathers everywhere) value. There are a couple of tasks that fully rest on dad’s shoulders…literally. Any jobs that are becoming of a mule or sherpa; these are great responsibilities for dad. And for hauling luggage from one location to the next, we celebrate dads everywhere. How did I celebrate? We couldn’t get the timing right for a lunch reservation and ate quickly at a (our future) neighborhood bakery. With Young MC in good spirits, we went grocery shopping. Yes, yes – big things on this day. He fell asleep in the store, and I guzzled a frosty pale ale in the parking lot, wrapped around a pair of cotton shorts we'd purchased for him earlier. It was perfect. Happy Father’s Day to you. Happy Father’s Day to me. And most importantly, Happy Father’s Day to Emmelle. Thanks for stopping by. |
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In light of my recent (very personal) sharing of some essentials that I need, I figure it would behoove all to know exactly what comes down from the list and re-categorized into the "I got my hands on it" bucket. As an anecdote, I recently received the same Batman shirt for my birthday. This is just unacceptable and can easily be avoided with a list such as this. By the good grace of the lord, I've recently obtained an item on the list, which undoubtedly is making me a better person. I've kept a pair of TOMS in my shoe rotation since the brand launched some years ago but excited to add these slightly less casual shoes into the rotation. Young MC, this is what your dad is wearing in 2015.Thanks for stopping by. |
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In an effort to help all of the GreensandBrowns readers with future gift-giving needs, I have dedicated a whole page on the blog to curating my greatest necessities. Please see the link below: stuff that i need that i don't need Thanks for stopping by. |
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The purpose of this blog, the main purpose, was to document some of my life's joys and blessings as they happened in a semi real-time format. So that, years down the road, I could complement any amount of videos, photographs, holograms (?) with my actual thoughts. Putting pen-to-paper once every six months doesn't seem to jive with that intent, especially if these last six months coincided with months two through seven for our young son, Master Caleb. Our son is almost seven months old (!), and the intent of this post has changed a bit. At original time of writing, he was just one month old, and we still knew very little about him. Since then, he has revealed quite a bit of his personality. He seems to be fairly mellow with some very quickly escalated bursts of rage. I am generally very scared of him. He gives away smiles fairly quickly (too easily) to strangers but that has changed very slightly in the last couple of weeks as the concept of "Stranger Danger" seems to play a more integral role in his disposition. But what I originally intended were some things that are secondary thoughts, and mostly concerns. Its easy to pick out elements of his personality that he'll likely retain for life. But what about things that don't reveal themselves for much longer? And the things that I'm fretting about are a laundry list of questions such as "Will you have back problems like your father?", "Have I passed on any unhealthy ailments?". All fully out of our control, and all that much more worrisome. Nevertheless, by virtue and hard work of his mother, he is a happy, well-fed baby. His curated photo album below: Master Caleb, who are you? Master Caleb's Flickr Page Thanks for stopping by. |
