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Tuesday was Sam's 4-month birthday. We also happened to be doing a quick shoot for his passport photo so we can prove he's not a terrorist baby on our trip to Mexico, so inspired by my friend Anna, we began the monthly documentation of Sam. Here are a few of the more quality out-takes:

Recovering Christmas

For the past few years, Christmas had been losing its sparkle. The hassles and conflicts of battling traffic and airport crowds, sleeping in close quarters on furniture not designed for sleeping or on inflatable beds that don't alway hold their flate, eating enormous meals at off-hours, and corralling insolent dogs had turned Christmas into a chore.

Since the realities of my parents' divorce sent me reeling out of a Brunswick church in a near panic-attack state on Christmas Eve 2000, halfway through the third verse of "O Come All Ye Faithful", Christmas was no longer Christmas. Instead of the pile of generosity under the tree I saw the gluttony of American excess. Instead of the opportunity to reconnect with seldom seen relatives came the rediscovery of pet peeves and minor irritations.

Two years ago, this all came to a head. We were approaching the end of a period of relative homelessness, having bivouacked from Rhode Island to Venice, California so Anna could pursue her writing while we waited for my D.C. fellowship to kick in. After, a month in a sublet beach shack, and a month of house-sitting that became another month of house-guesting, we packed up and headed East, into a situation guaranteed to end with an overstayed welcome at the peak of the holidays.

Of course, we did better. We passed a nasty head cold around with the egg nog. Finn stole a pie, attacked our host's dog, and kept the cats holed up in the basement. He became known in family circles as "The Finn Who Stole Christmas." While partially hidden beneath a veneer of politeness, human interactions devolved to approximately the same point. And the capper came Christmas morning, when someone (who shall remain nameless) backed the car into a wall, extending our stay even further while we waited for the repair shop to open. We repaid the eternal patience of our host in the only way our dwindling bank account would allow--with a new toaster.

In 2006, though relatively stabilized in our own lives, we remained desperate to avoid any semblance of such debacles. While last year's host made stacks of toast and breathed a sigh of relief for the fate of her pies, we gave New England and the vast majority of our still-reeling relations a miss and jaunted off to Paris with our mothers. We had no concept, of course, that also along on that European vacation, was the one person who would start the process of restoring Christmas to its previous glory.

In fairness, Sam wasn't the only factor. As a family unit, we're simply in a much better place. We own a house, and I have an actual job that I love (most of the time) which pays an honest-to-God salary. Anna has continued to work steadily, and a fortuitously-timed writers' strike has given her a built-in maternity leave. And Finn has calmed to the point that he's passed his mantle of Grinch on to the next puppy in line (who also shall remain nameless).

It's no secret that kids make Christmas better. This year, Sam didn't yet have the manic excitement of the pre-schooler waiting on Santa, but the inevitability of Christmas Future was enough. The trees and wreaths smelled better. The colorful packages were generous, not gluttonous. And our family actually enjoyed each other's presence--as far as I could tell.


So now I'm sitting here in Bath, Maine, scene of the Christmas debacle of 2005, watching the snow start to fall over the Kennebec River. Sam's lying beside me with a full belly and, for the moment at least, a contented half-smile, one Christmas in the books, many more to come.

Bambino? Yes. Curse? No.

One of the perks of working on the Hill is that people bring cool things there for us to ogle. Like the 2007 Red Sox World Series Championship trophy. Last time we saw it, it was being showered by Big Papi and the rest of the Sox.


Last night, though, it was in the House Committee on Energy and Commerce's hearing room, hosted by the Massachusetts delegation.


Sam was somewhat impressed by the trophy (note: bigger than he is)...


...but even moreso by the bling brought by the trophy's security detail.


Unfortunately, he hasnt' figured out how to close his fingers around things yet, or else we would now be the proud possessors of one 2004 World Series ring.

Still, it's nice to know that my boy is growing up in a world where the Red Sox are winners and the Yankees... well, no need to kick 'em when they're down. I mean, isn't that what we all want? For our kids to grow up with more advantages than we had?

Sam, you're well on your way.

Halloween 2007 - a study in tubular food

Just pix today as I can only type so much with my one, non-Sam-holding hand.

Sam met Olympia in this outfit. My job is now secure for the foreseeable future.


Finn did not meet Olympia in this outfit, further solidifying my employment.


And, of course, Anna with her banana. Cabana not pictured.

A boy and his dog

Yikes... two weeks since our last update. Sorry, kids, but things have been typically N-V-T-S-NUTS around here lately. Those of you with kids can relate. Those without simply can't. Sorry. We used to think we knew what it meant when people said "your life is about to change." We nodded and acquiesced, but we didn't KNOW. I didn't know for sure until I found myself secretly hoping, when the Red Sox were down 3-1 to Cleveland in the ALCS, that they would lose so I wouldn't have to stay up and watch any more games. Petty? Mabye. Emblematic? You bet your ass.

Meanwhile, Sam continues his climb up his own personal ladder of realization. These pictures are actually from about two weeks ago and document his first legitimate awareness of his older, hairier, 4-legged brother. (More recent pix will come this weekend for sure, something I can promise because for the first time since we got home from the hospital, we have no houseguests!)

Anyway, the evidence, starting with "The Sniff":


"The Lick":


"The Reaction":


"The Reconciliation":


and finally, "The Latch":



Yes, Sam did actually attempt to feed off Finn's nose, something that was much more amusing before Finn was diagnosed with giardia. But so far everyone seems to be holding up fine, so maybe you pretend I didn't share that tidbit and no one calls the Dept. of Child and Family Services on us, OK? OK.

I think we now have one of everything

People love buying things for babies. We are delighted that our friends and family have proven themselves no exception to this universal truth. As you can see from the above photo, gifts we've received have ranged from the sublime (not pictured) to the ridiculous (pictured); the utilitarian (not pictured) to the frivolous (you think?); the traditional (um, no) to the bizarre (oh, yeah).

So first of all, THANK YOU. We thank you, Sam thanks you, and even Finn thanks you because there is now so much more to investigate. He particularly enjoys the stuffed animals. You are all amazingly wonderful people, we love you, and we love that you love Sam.

Now stop it.

In purchasing our first home, we opted for location over size. This means that Anna (and now Sam) has a neighborhood to explore and absorb while I'm off at work. It also means we are now completely bereft of storage space.

Sam has clothing to last until he's four, toys to occupy BOTH of his daily waking hours, a library of books, and all the tools of the baby-raising trade. But dammit, one more onesie and his closet is simply going to explode.

This is a happy problem. We are blessed, and we appreciate the avalanche of joy. We really do. He's a lucky boy, but I just think we're full up.

Until Christmas.

In the details

The tiny bits.





These are actually from two weeks ago, so he's less tiny now, but it's been tough to find the time to post. 4 weeks today. Can't quite believe it. You people weren't kidding when you said it goes by fast...

(P.S. Go SOX!)