I used to be one of those people

Recently, my good friend Maria and I met for a fancy dinner at one of our favorite upscale restaurants, City Tavern, Second and Walnut streets. One of us had an infant in tow, and that would be me. I used to think people who took infants out to eat were crazy. But now I’m one of those people.
The husband and I have been taking Balin out to restaurants, fancy and fast-food, since he was two weeks old. Balin is a very good, easy going, HAPPY child so we have never (knock wood) had any problem at restaurants — or anywhere else for that matter. In fact, customers and wait staff always comment how good my son is and City Tavern was no exception that evening. But I have to admit in hindsight, the restaurant was a poor choice, and here’s why.
Maria had already de-coated, perused the wine list and menu and figured out what she wanted to eat while I was trying to get Balin out of the car seat and into the high chair without knocking over a lighted candle on our table and destroying all the expensive beautiful pewter place settings in this historic tavern. There are some restaurants that are kid friendly, people, and City Tavern is definitely not one of them with its candles throughout, antiques and expensive pewter place settings.
I spent a good part of the night being nervous and worried Balin would yank the table cloth or the hostess would seat somebody next to us (thank goodness she didn’t).Next time I take hubby up on the offer to baby sit while I enjoy a girls night out in a non-kid friendly place. Cheers.

My son likes blondes

After last week’s blog about Haiti, we’re going to lighten it up a bit. No pun intended with the blonde title of this blog but it works so OK.
My son Balin likes blondes. Not even a year old and he’s already a ladies’ man. We watch Channel 10 local news at home, largely in part because my husband working in television and me in print media can’t stomach some of the other channels since we know too much wifty inside dirt and/or we dislike the on-air talent. ’Nuf said.
There’s two blondes in particular Balin loves on 10, meteorologist Michelle Grossman and “Princess of the Pavement,” as anchor Terry Ruggles has dubbed her, Jillian Mele. Let me just say I would be thrilled if my son brought home either of them, albeit Grossman is married (not sure of Mele’s status but I think she’s available). They’re classy, smart, impeccably dressed, coiffed, made-up and accessorized women — who also happen to be very good at what they do, never missing a beat.
Whenever they’re on, a huge smile lights up Balin’s face and he starts cooing and laughing. It’s quite funny to watch. We think maybe the weather and traffic graphics might have something to do with it but we’re pretty sure it’s blondes. There’s a beautiful little girl at daycare named Ava who we’ve jokingly dubbed Balin’s girlfriend because of the interaction between them. Yep, she’s blonde too.
So my son is a ladies’ man with a weakness for the fair- haired maidens. There’s a part of me that wants to scream over this and another part that thinks it’s adorable. I just hope he doesn’t turn into Tiger Woods.

Innocence

When I was first accosted by the horrific images of the Haiti earthquake, I wanted to scream. Very loud and for a very very long time. I had the same reaction as I sat on my couch and watched the news of terrorist planes flying into the World Trade Center towers on Sept. 11, 2001. After the initial urge to scream in both cases, naturally the tears flowed.
As I watched the victims of this quake parade before my eyes, my son Balin laughed and played on the living room floor beside me and my husband. Since I became a new mother almost a year ago, I think I finally understood in that moment  for maybe the first time what childhood innocence is all about.
Balin was spared the pain of the images and meaning behind them because he was too young to understand this or any atrocity in life. He would not comprehend the pain of knowing that thousands of victims  would have to have a limb amputated without anesthesia, or know what it’s like to stand in line two hours for one meal.
And for that, I envied my son.

Winterized

I adore winter. The cold, crispness of it all, the holiday season that comes with it and of course the winter wonderland that snow makes. For all those who think me crazy, I’m apparently in good company because it’s Sting and Nigella Lawson’s favorite seasons too, the former having released an album in October dedicated to the season, “If On a Winter’s Night…”

There is one thing, however, I have come to dislike about this season. And that is getting my son winterized to brave the frozen tundra. It’s a comedy of errors to say the very least whether I’m performing this routine alone or with hubby. Like the December night we partook of some outdoor holiday festivities and spent 10 minutes trying to put Balin’s winter coat on once we unstrapped him from the carseat. For all the non parental units out there, you cannot put a child in a carseat with a heavy coat because the straps aren’t long enough to accommodate bulky clothing and I’m also pretty sure there’s a law on the books stating coats can’t be used in carseats.

So there we were in 20-degree weather. My husband juggling a 10-month-old while I tried to get the coat on. My first attempt had the thing on upside down, I kid you not. In my defense though, it was dark and I was shivering trying to pull off this performance. It wasn’t until I tried to zip it that I realized it was upside down—- Balin’s arms in place but the body of the coat facing upward. So we had to start all over again.

Suddenly I realized there was a man in the car parked behind us and he was laughing! We could just imagine what this guy was thinking. Hubby and I had a good laugh about it because as I’m coming to find out, the only way to make it out of stressful situations with a newborn is to laugh—- as much and as often as possible.

A Christmas Story

David Goldman put it best when he called his reunion with 9-year-old son Sean a Christmas miracle. And he put it best again Tuesday on the Today show when he said, “We did it. We did it.”
My husband and I have been following this international child abduction for the last year or more, long before things finally came to a head in the weeks leading up to Christmas and this became the news story of the hour.
As a new mother, this tragedy grieved me like no other, crying every time I saw Goldman on the news. My heart, as I’m sure the hearts of everyone who followed this story, ached for this man. I am glad it came to an end because I couldn’t take too much more. My husband, who does not tear- up easily at news stories, himself working in TV news, would even get misty eyed watching Goldman in interviews — a new father feeling this man’s pain. As parents, we wondered how in the world Goldman was holding it together these last five years. How could one survive the hours of the days that made up the years without their precious and only child?
And then finally it happened: The Christmas miracle.
The highest court in Brazil ruled in Goldman’s favor, upholding a lower court’s order to return Sean to his father. Finally, Goldman lucked into a judge, Chief Justice Gilmar Mendes, who had a heart and a brain.
But it wasn’t until things got political in recent months that Brazil woke up and realized it had plenty to lose if it continued thumbing its nose at international child abduction laws. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton and the U.S. House and Senate called on Brazil to permit the boy’s return. New Jersey Sen. Frank Lautenberg (D) who, citing the Goldman case, really applied the pressure by delaying the renewal of a $2.75 billion trade deal that would lift tariffs on some Brazilian exports. New Jersey Congressman Chris Smith (R) also got in on the action by accompanying Goldman to Brazil, speaking out on his behalf. Political pressure was on and the entire world was watching.
So the Brazilian government now looks like a hero, returning Sean to his father just in the nick of time for Christmas, after putting this American father through hell by allowing this case to drag on for years.
But no matter. Because father and son were united Christmas Eve and “all was right with the world,” to quote one of the ending lines to “A Christmas Story.”

Steeped in tradition

I’m huge on tradition. Old ones and creating new ones. Case in point: When my husband and I returned from our second trip to Ireland a few years ago, we adopted the tradition of afternoon tea on weekends. It’s the full deal complete with tea set and tray.
Balin, who just turned 10 months old Dec. 21, will grow up surrounded by all sorts of traditions like the weekend tea, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Recently we adopted a new tradition that we’re sure he’s going to love once he’s old enough to understand. While watching “Rick Steves’ European Christmas” last week on PBS, we learned that in England children leave, along with cookies for Father Christmas (Santa), a carrot for his reindeer. What a cool idea! So this year we’re going to leave a carrot and of course cookies by our fireplace.
Other cultures have all kinds of great holiday traditions. In Sweden, they celebrate Lucia Day, something I’ve written about many times in the Review since two venues down here, Gloria Dei Olde Swedes Church, 916 S. Swanson St., and American Swedish Historical National Museum, 1900 Pattison Ave., put on Lucia celebrations every December.
If you’ve never been, it’s quite the thing to behold honoring the Swedish tradition of Dec. 13 where the eldest daughter awakens early and takes coffee and ‘lussekatts’ (buns flavored with saffron and raisins) to her parents. She’s dressed in white and wears a crown of candles, singing the traditional “Sankta Lucia.”
The local celebrations reenact this tradition with song and a procession of young girls all in white and carrying candles joining “Lucia” with candles on her head and carrying a tray with buns and coffee.
One of the things I love the most about the holidays is tradition. Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Ho Ho No

One of my favorite people on the planet, domestic goddess Nigella Lawson, put it best when she said she simply adores Christmas down to the last twinkling light. I couldn’t agree more. I believe in Santa and all things that celebrate this most wonderful time of the year, but there is one thing I must confess I dislike. And that is standing in line to see Santa Claus. Nothing against jolly old Saint Nicholas, Kris Kringle, Father Christmas or any of the other names the fat man in the red suit is known by around the world. My problem lies with the line and all the annoying people I have to endure while in it.

See, I despise lines of all kinds but especially ones that don’t move, and when we took Balin to see Santa Claus the other night for his first time, the line did not budge for 20 minutes.

We opted for a lovely garden center complete with winter wonderland in Marlton, N.J. not far from where we live instead of the hell-on-earth that is the mall Santa experience. We went on a Monday night after work thinking surely how crowded could the place possibly be on that night of the week. Well it wasn’t packed by any means but the line was not moving and I was having an out of body experience while trying to maintain some semblance of composure and cheer for my son’s first trip to see Santa. I personally think I did OK but my husband thinks I failed miserably. Hubby hates when I get all witchy and impatient, tossing out snide comments to anybody in earshot. (That night they went something like this: “God why isn’t this line moving?” or “This has got to be the slowest line in history.”) Having a squirming infant in your arms only adds to the discomfort of standing in any line despite my husband and I switching off with the babe in arms. Much like the law of psychics where what goes up must come down, lines must move. In the case of Santa Claus, kiddies sit on this guy’s lap, tell him a few things they want for Christmas and go on their merry way. How difficult is this and how long could it possibly take?

But the problem when we went wasn’t with Santa, it was with the man selling the photo packages. For those unfamiliar with the Santa Claus experience, here’s how it works: You must purchase a ridiculously overpriced photo or photo package as part of the deal. The cheapest one we got away with was $12 for a 5 by 7 shot of Balin with a shell shocked expression on his face and blonde hair. (The lighting made my son’s sandy blonde hair look almost white but I have no explanation for the blank expression since my son is always laughing or smiling.)
So a wait that should have taken a half hour tops turned into darn near an hour because the guy ringing up photo orders was moving at the pace of a dead man. No kidding, it must have taken this guy 10 minutes minimum to ring up each order. I watched him with daggers in my eyes, that’s how I know.

Seems I wasn’t alone in my disgust that particular evening. One family up and walked out muttering something about how they couldn’t wait in line all night. The woman in back of us was flipping out too, saying in the 16 years she’s been coming to this place she has never seen the line not move. So clearly I was in good company.
In the end, it was totally worth it though because Balin had a good time and did not wig out sitting on Santa’s lap like many kids do. I have to admit I had a fun night too. Well, except the waiting-in-a-stalled-line portion of the event.

So this is Christmas, and what have you done?

This time of year radio stations trot out the John Lennon classic, “Happy Christmas” whose first line is “so this is Christmas, and what have you done?” Every time I hear this song I feel as if Lennon is talking directly to me and I find myself a bit guilt ridden and in need of some serious charity.
Being a new mom, toy drives are my newfound charitable cause. I never cared two hoots about them — until now. Not because I’m the Grinch, but because there were other causes I held dear pre-child. While I still value those causes, having a tiny baby makes my heart ache in ways it never did before. Welcome to motherhood.
The thought of a parent not being able to afford toys for a child is more than I can bear. I picture myself in that position and wonder what on earth I would do. So this year I purchased some toys for a big national drive. I have a rule when it comes to gift giving: I refuse to buy anything that I would not want or appreciate if I were in the recipient’s shoes. So this means no crappy thoughtless Dollar Store toys for starters.
The drive I donated to will remain nameless because I am not endorsing any particular causes. In my book all toy drives are worthwhile. So whether it’s a toy drive or some other charitable cause, tis the season to open your wallets and hearts.

Toy wars

Toys R Us threw down the gauntlet when it announced this fall it was opening 350 “temporary stores” in malls throughout the country and inside its sister chain of Babies R Us stores nationwide to gain market share since the demise of KBToys last year. The nation’s second biggest toy retailer, Wal-mart, parried by announcing it was expanding a $10 toy promotion to 100 items, up from 10 items last year.
And so it began: Toy Wars 2009. And the galaxy was not far far away by any means but right in everybody’s backyard.
This year’s Holy Grail toy is Cepia Inc.’s Zhu Zhu Pet Hamsters. Who knew an $8 fake rodent that makes noises and moves around would generate such fervor. According to endless media reports on the subject, Toys R Us and Wal-mart literally cannot keep  Zhu Zhus on their shelves, selling out of them before they even make it out of the boxes. Apparently this toy is going for big bucks on e-Bay. As of Tuesday evening, someone was hawking a set of four hamsters, blanket and carrier for a cool $169.99. One hamster by its lonesome was listed for $59.99. Far be it for me to pass judgement on anybody who would pay exorbitant prices for something to put a smile on a child’s face. I cannot criticize such folks because I could be one of them someday.

Be thankful

One of the many lessons I am looking forward to teaching my Balin is to be thankful. Not just for the big stuff like good health but the small things too like a rainbow. Unfortunately for many, thankfulness is reserved for one day a year: Thanksgiving. Nothing wrong with that, but to me it’s such a waste to not be thankful and rejoice in every day because life is just too short.
There’s a great scene from the movie “The Punisher” that always comes to mind as Thanksgiving draws near. The film stars Thomas Jane as Frank Castle, AKA, The Punisher, an FBI agent whose family is slaughtered by assassins employed by Howard Saint, played by John Travolta, in revenge for the inadvertent death of Saint’s son in an undercover gun trafficking sting. Rebecca Romijn (formerly Stamos) plays Joan, a battered woman/recovering alcoholic on the run from her abusive boyfriend.
In the scene I love, Joan makes dinner and invites over three misfit down-on-their-luck neighbors/friends to join her, The Punisher among them. Before they eat, she says she would like to go around the table and ask everyone to name something they are thankful for. What makes this scene so poignant is twofold: Firstly, it is not Thanksgiving but she’s asking her guests to reflect on gratefulness all the same. Secondly, everyone gathered is nursing emotional, and in some cases physical, wounds, blinded by suffering with seemingly not a whole lot to be grateful for or even live for. And yet, in the end, each reveals one thing for which he and she is thankful.
So this Thanksgiving, what are you thankful for?