I want to break it into five pieces. — in reference to many many things.

I have hummus in my nose. — while being rocked to sleep.

And my personal favorite needs a little context. The metal drum in our drier cracked a few weeks ago, and the other day the crack expanded to a point where it was dangerous for our clothes. Fortunately we'd bought the extended warranty, so the repair was free.

The new drum came in a very large bubble wrap bag. We played with the bag for a while; I swung him around in there, slung him over a shoulder, and bounced him up and down in it.

Then it got late and he melted. We weren't terribly successful convincing him that eating is a great cure for being hungry, so there was a lot of screaming. At one point he cried, in the same breath, I want soup. I don't want soup! (but that's not the quote). There was a lot of this.

We negotiated that if he gets in his diaper and pajamas that I'll carry him to his room in the bubble wrap bag. This was a turbulent activity, but eventually, he gets in his PJs. He's completely out of his senses and flinging arms and legs everywhere, then he hops in and I pick up the bag and carry him to his bedroom. While in transit, the crazies suddenly disappear and a calm sweet child's voice utters It's nice in here.

Then the crazies came back.

I became a papa again on Sunday.

At 1pm, Feb 15th 2009, my second child was born. My daughter, Emelia Isa Lorraine.

The two births were very different. Where Liam was 7lbs 14oz, Emelia was 8lbs 10oz. Liam's birth was long, shrouded in anxiety; the fear of the unknown, trauma marked by the eventual hospital transfer and c-section. It was Heidi's first time being admitted to a hospital, and the event left more scars than just the one on her belly.

Emelia came after only 6 hours of peaceful, natural labor, arriving in the birthing tub with me supporting Heidi (physically and psychologically) and the midwife receiving her.

The experience was incredibly healing for both of us. We were different people this time around, tempered by our experience with Liam's birth and punctuated by our time as parents.

And of course, we got a little angel out of the deal :)

For some reason, this picture reminds me of the Merrie Melodies short "I Love to Singa". I don't think it looks like her at all—it's amazing how poorly cameras capture certain moments. All the same, I did love that short :)

And here's what Liam was doing on the day of his sister's birth:

Being a ham, of course. He went down for a nap 20mins before Emelia was born. Needless to say, things had changed a bit by the time he woke up.

Dear Ryan. You suck.

I've been tagged, so on with the show.

Seven things you (probably) don't know about me

1. I've taught a little bit of Lindy Hop and/or East Coast swing to thousands of people. For about a year or more I was the lead to Denise Steele, teaching before the Sunday swing shows at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland. This was during the post-Gap-commercial swing revival, so it was pretty common to get around 300 to 500 people each weekend. Really it was mostly Denise, but eh, it takes two to—wait, oh nevermind. Add on a few group classes, some choreography, and some corporate gigs, too. Those were good days. I still have my big purple zoot pants.
2. I won the "Tricks" category in a slackline comp for doing, among other things, a 270° hop (still haven't made a 360°), a running 360° jump mount onto the line, and a distance mount from about 7 or 8 feet away. At least that's how far away it was in my happy memory. It may have been less in real life. Maybe more :)
3. I bought my first intimate girlfriend thigh high stockings as a Christmas gift and she opened them in front of her parents. Because I told her it was safe to do so. Yeah. I wasn't too bright.
4. In college, I considered if it were possible to bat for the other team when I heard some guy may have been interested in me. Seriously, he was hot, and smart, and musically talented. Turns out it really wasn't. And he wasn't (interested), which made it…easier? I guess?
5. I have a little bit of extra cartilage in my neck that, when properly manipulated, makes it look like I have a toothpick jabbing out of my esophagus. I've never tried to freak anybody out at a restaurant, though.
6. My mother almost named me Peni (pronounced like penny). That's right, Peni Smith. This is Peni's therapy bill. There aren't a lot of Penis in my class. Thankfully, grandma almost smacked her. So Mandy Jo it is! I'm glad I'm a boy.
7. I'm scared of teenagers and positively terrified of what kind of father I'll be when my kids get to that age.

Them's the rules

Though I have no intention of meme spamming seven more bloggers (largely because I don't actually have friends), I may as well comply to the rules to some degree.

• Link your original tagger(s), and list these rules on your blog.
• Share seven facts about yourself in the post -- some random, some weird.
• Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
• Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blogs and/or Twitter.

You're it?

All I got for bloggers are

• J Shirley
• Dav Glass
• Isaac Schlueter
• Nicholas Zakas

Sorry fellas. You've been tagged. Feel free to tell me to go to hell.

I am Liam's favorite person in the world right now. Actually, for the last few months. He explodes with glee when I come home from work each night, running full steam to latch onto my legs and insisting I pick him up and join him in whatever his imagination is concocting at the moment. We play all the time, I read to him, bathe him, and he helps me do some chores (often enough, cleaning up after him).

Normally I'd say this is great, but now he does not listen to his mama, refuses food from her—insisting I feed him—and in general wants nothing to do with her when I'm around. When she asks him to come and give her a hug or kiss, he runs to me and refuses.

It breaks her heart. And mine.

I sometimes wonder if the NPR newscasters feel frustrated because they are paid to relate some of the most inane drivel, but in the same tone as genuinely important information.

Pope Benedict XVI arrived in the US today, greeted by president Bush, and NPR got the pleasure of reporting that they shared many of the same values, such as opposition to tyranny and abortion.

That's right, amongst their similar values, opposing tyranny was apparently distinct enough to be included in a summary list of two items. In case we might have thought that one or the other was (publicly) in favor of tyranny.

I wonder what else was on the list that didn't make the cut...

They both like red?

They both fear Jello?

They both think stinky cheese is best left in France?

They both think good stuff is better than bad stuff?