Tuesday, November 18, 2008


This is what I often see in the living room these days: Sam on the couch, reading New Yorker magazine. I'll be in the kitchen using my spatial, organizational, and muscular skills to pack boxes, and Sam will be getting caught up on his east coast liberal print media.

He apparently enjoyed one passage from our most recent issue as much as I did. It was written by Hendrik Hertzberg as part of his Talk of the Town piece celebrating the unlikely presidential election of someone with the name Barack Hussein Obama (sorry I don't know how to indent in html for such a long quote):

"...last week, sixty-five million Americans turned a liability---a moniker so politically inflammatory that the full recitation of it was considered foul play---into a global diplomatic asset, a symbol of the resurgence of Americas'a ability to astonish and inspire....Ten weeks from now, the President of the United States will be a person whose first name is a Swahili word derived from the Arabic (it means 'blessing'), whose middle name is that not only of a grandson of the Prophet Muhammad but also of the original target of an ongoing American war, and whose last name rhymes nicely with 'Osama.' That's not a name, it's a catastrophe, at least in American politics. Or ought to have been."

Well, of course. I can tell you of another little citizen for whom our new President's name is definitely not a catastrophe. "Obama" is the perfect name for a neophyte English speaker of the toddler variety. It contains only those very basic sounds that a toddler can easily pronounce. In fact, I hear it all day long, with lots of grinning and pointing at the New Yorker, "Obama! Obama! Obama! Obama!" That's right, Sam. A great name for an American President.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Happy Birthday Sam!!!

A few thoughts and memories from a mommy-in-love...

Dear Sam,

Two years ago you were born. I remember seeing your beautiful face for the first time, holding your tiny body in my arms, feeling your little fingers and kissing your soft cheek.

Before I knew it you were a jolly 6-month-old and we'd spend hours hanging out in our front yard, taking in the sights of our olive and redwood trees, and listening to the squawking jays.

When you turned one you had already taken your first steps, but you were still a crawling machine, exploring the far reaches of your world. Very soon your feet would take you even farther.

By 18 months you were speaking several words and understanding so much more. We had fun reading books together and naming what we saw in the pictures.

And now you are 2 years old! I still marvel at your beautiful face and your strong little body. I still kiss you, and now you kiss me. We can talk together, and I see you learning new words and ideas every day. We still enjoy our time exploring the outdoors, and we still love to read together. I am so proud to be your mommy. Happy Birthday, Sam.


Friday, November 7, 2008

Happy Birthday Grampie!

And from me, Happy Birthday Dad! We love you!

Sam I Am

I've become very interested in getting Sam to say his own name. For quite awhile now, when I've pointed to Sam and asked him "Who's this?" he's responded, "Baby." Cute, huh? This probably derives from a month-long serious interest in Pattycake sometime over the summer ("put it in the oven for Baby and me"). Lately, though, I've been trying to reinforce "Sam" by pointing and telling him, "It's you, Sam!" So now what does he say? I ask "Who's this?" and he cheerfully replies, "You!" Oops.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

little patriot

I may have missed Halloween with Sam this year, but I sure as hell came home in time for Election Day with my little guy.

But of course...

"I don't have to tell anyone who I vote for! Nobody does. And that's really cool about America."

Suck it, SP.