Thursday, June 23, 2011
Moving day...
ONE JAY AT A TIME has moved. New posts will be going up over on tumblr. Thought it might be time to get out of my Capricorny safe-zone and try something new. All the old OJAAT posts will still be here for you to reminisce- then head on over here for that same great ONE JAY taste, but with a new look and url.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
What I learned: A new dad's year in review
I survived one year of being a dad. Over the past year, I've used this blog as a sort of punching bag-- I thought it'd be fun (for me anyway), to look back over the past year to see what being someone's parent has taught me. Some if it I probably knew already, some if came out of left field- but all of it will stick with me. Here's a gander at what I learned:
I wasn't fully prepared for what I may see on delivery day.
I don't ever want to have to see my little girl in the hospital ever again.
Children's playthings can be haunting.
I may never show up on time again.
Happy to not have lost my outward inner-child.
Later in the year, we did discover zippers.Glorious.
Who knew I'd get so much nourishment from feeding a baby.
I talk to a lot more strangers now.
Who needs to sleep in, anyway?
Wait- parenthood isn't a competitive sport?
Why wouldn't I want to save myself some precious time?
I don't want to see it.
Everybody does it-- and you kind of have to, especially in NYC.
I'm a man- but that doesn't mean my ovaries can't ache.
Yes, pink.
Sometimes, you just have to say it in a haiku.
What an informative and draining year it was... no break though, year two lies ahead!!
I wasn't fully prepared for what I may see on delivery day.
I don't ever want to have to see my little girl in the hospital ever again.
Children's playthings can be haunting.
I may never show up on time again.
Happy to not have lost my outward inner-child.
Later in the year, we did discover zippers.Glorious.
Who knew I'd get so much nourishment from feeding a baby.
I talk to a lot more strangers now.
Who needs to sleep in, anyway?
Wait- parenthood isn't a competitive sport?
Why wouldn't I want to save myself some precious time?
I don't want to see it.
Everybody does it-- and you kind of have to, especially in NYC.
I'm a man- but that doesn't mean my ovaries can't ache.
Yes, pink.
Sometimes, you just have to say it in a haiku.
What an informative and draining year it was... no break though, year two lies ahead!!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
No emergency!
If you've spent any time on the NYC subway, you've noticed the little cord with the red handle hanging from the ceiling in the back of each car: the emergency cord (brake). Only to be used in case of an emergency!
Well, posted under or at least nearby the dangling cord is a sign listing possible emergencies- Police Activity, Fire, Sick or Injured Passenger... following each however, is the phrase- DO NOT PULL EMERGENCY CORD. Which makes me wonder, in what case is it in fact okay to use it? Earthquake? Flash flood? Godzilla attack (or any others beast of mythic proportions)? It seems though in those cases the trauma would be such as to make the train derail, rendering the emergency brake moot.
So when do you use it? And if the answer is never-- why is it in every car on every train, out in the wide open where anyone could pull it? At any time? It's not even behind glass or anything, like they do with fire extinguishers- so as to ward off the riff-raff. So what's the deal? To pull or not to pull?
Well, posted under or at least nearby the dangling cord is a sign listing possible emergencies- Police Activity, Fire, Sick or Injured Passenger... following each however, is the phrase- DO NOT PULL EMERGENCY CORD. Which makes me wonder, in what case is it in fact okay to use it? Earthquake? Flash flood? Godzilla attack (or any others beast of mythic proportions)? It seems though in those cases the trauma would be such as to make the train derail, rendering the emergency brake moot.
So when do you use it? And if the answer is never-- why is it in every car on every train, out in the wide open where anyone could pull it? At any time? It's not even behind glass or anything, like they do with fire extinguishers- so as to ward off the riff-raff. So what's the deal? To pull or not to pull?
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 34: The best day she'll never remember
The first birthday is a milestone to be treasured. A time to look back at the incredible year that has past, and remember all the moments that brought your little one to this day. A day to celebrate her.
The first birthday party however, is a completely different beast. It's not for the child. She's not going to remember what she wore, what plates were used or what food was served on them. She'll not someday reminisce about the decorations, nor the presents she received. The first birthday party is for the parents. A "Whoo-hoo we made it through a year" kind of bash, and most deserved. However, the party is not thrown for the parents- it's the parents that throw it for themselves, under the guise that it's really for the child.
Matching napkins and specific color schemes, addressing specialized invitations and planning the menu. Cleaning the house until your reflection can be seen in the bathroom fixtures (a New York City bathroom, mind you- which doesn't ever look that clean not matter how much bleach you use). Stressing over every detail to make sure it's perfect for your little angel.
Only it's not for the little one- I reminded my friend of this when she was throwing her son's first b-day soiree, I reminded my wife of this when it was time to throw one for our little nugget. And yet, still special cake pans were purchased, and cupcakes were baked in quantities large enough to feed the Union army- with some left over for Lee's boys in gray as well. Minor breakdowns ensued when the day came and there was still so much left to be done to make the day all a one year old could ever wish for. If only she knew what a wish was. Right now her wishes would probably consist of more Ritz crackers and unlimited play time with the TV remote (so she can unwittingly order pay-per-view movies mommy and daddy don't want to see).
The day was a success... I mean the food for the adults was an hour late. The food for the kids was purchased about 20 minutes prior to the party starting- and only then because my sister asked when were putting the chicken nuggets in the oven. K. was, no surprise, overwhelmed and clingy to me and my wife. And after all the prep time her mom put into the birthday treat- our little cupcake wanted little to do with hers.
But we survived. And the baby-sitter was invited, so when she showed up a little pressure was lifted. And everybody had a good time. It was a day to remember for us- even if we wanted to forget it afterwards. Our little girl turned one year old. Happy Birthday, Miss K... you are loved.
The first birthday party however, is a completely different beast. It's not for the child. She's not going to remember what she wore, what plates were used or what food was served on them. She'll not someday reminisce about the decorations, nor the presents she received. The first birthday party is for the parents. A "Whoo-hoo we made it through a year" kind of bash, and most deserved. However, the party is not thrown for the parents- it's the parents that throw it for themselves, under the guise that it's really for the child.
Matching napkins and specific color schemes, addressing specialized invitations and planning the menu. Cleaning the house until your reflection can be seen in the bathroom fixtures (a New York City bathroom, mind you- which doesn't ever look that clean not matter how much bleach you use). Stressing over every detail to make sure it's perfect for your little angel.
Only it's not for the little one- I reminded my friend of this when she was throwing her son's first b-day soiree, I reminded my wife of this when it was time to throw one for our little nugget. And yet, still special cake pans were purchased, and cupcakes were baked in quantities large enough to feed the Union army- with some left over for Lee's boys in gray as well. Minor breakdowns ensued when the day came and there was still so much left to be done to make the day all a one year old could ever wish for. If only she knew what a wish was. Right now her wishes would probably consist of more Ritz crackers and unlimited play time with the TV remote (so she can unwittingly order pay-per-view movies mommy and daddy don't want to see).
The day was a success... I mean the food for the adults was an hour late. The food for the kids was purchased about 20 minutes prior to the party starting- and only then because my sister asked when were putting the chicken nuggets in the oven. K. was, no surprise, overwhelmed and clingy to me and my wife. And after all the prep time her mom put into the birthday treat- our little cupcake wanted little to do with hers.
But we survived. And the baby-sitter was invited, so when she showed up a little pressure was lifted. And everybody had a good time. It was a day to remember for us- even if we wanted to forget it afterwards. Our little girl turned one year old. Happy Birthday, Miss K... you are loved.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 33: Teething (a pair of companion haiku...)
Crying, screaming babe.
Writhing and sleepless at night-
Cheerful though, come morn'.
***
My pillow asked me-
Where had you gone, overnight?
My crossword just laughs.
Writhing and sleepless at night-
Cheerful though, come morn'.
***
My pillow asked me-
Where had you gone, overnight?
My crossword just laughs.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Confessions of a new dad, vol. 32: Color games...
As a sports fan, I was always slightly miffed at the pink versions of team apparel donned by females at sporting events. I get it- they're trying to sell more merchandise by appealing to the feminine side (which, of course, gender stereotypes tell us means pink!). But I have always just found it very unsettling, seeing as though two fans could be walking side by side, and it's not necessarily readily apparent who's rooting for who if they are both decked out in opposing- yet matching- pink jerseys. And when my wife started coming with me to games, I found it refreshing that she wanted to purchase items only the true team colors. All was right in the world of sports...
Now I am seeing life through pink-colored glasses. When our little K. entered the picture, despite our best efforts to fully explore the color palette of fashion, more and more pink has entered our household. Sure she has greens and blues and purples in her wardrobe (her room is even painted sky blue!), but so much of what is out there for little girls to wear is (thanks again, stereotypes) pink! And plus she looks so darn cute in pink, it's hard to resist. And resist I didn't. When I purchased her Yankees apparel the other day it was in shades of pink. A hot pink #2 Derek Jeter jersey-shirt, to go with a pastel pink hat with the revered interlocking NY. It just seemed right. Maybe as she gets older she'll want to follow her mom's path of team color choice- but for now, she'll stay our little Yankee pinkee!!
Now I am seeing life through pink-colored glasses. When our little K. entered the picture, despite our best efforts to fully explore the color palette of fashion, more and more pink has entered our household. Sure she has greens and blues and purples in her wardrobe (her room is even painted sky blue!), but so much of what is out there for little girls to wear is (thanks again, stereotypes) pink! And plus she looks so darn cute in pink, it's hard to resist. And resist I didn't. When I purchased her Yankees apparel the other day it was in shades of pink. A hot pink #2 Derek Jeter jersey-shirt, to go with a pastel pink hat with the revered interlocking NY. It just seemed right. Maybe as she gets older she'll want to follow her mom's path of team color choice- but for now, she'll stay our little Yankee pinkee!!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Whetting my bleak
Why, oh why do I continue to read the fiction in the New Yorker? Why, when it continues to be, without fail, depressive literature? Not just depressive- bleak is more accurate. Characters wandering through their lives as ghosts of real people, their dreary existences mapped by failures and/or misfortune, or at best oddities.
Recent yarns I have read include: A story about a boy who makes it his life's goal, quite apropos of nothing, to press his lips to every square inch of his body- he actually snaps vertebrae in the process; A tale of a put upon guy with an asthmatic toddler, his ex-wife hateful and hurtful, his job and carpool mates a miserable mess; A remembrance of two college girls, from different backgrounds, interested in the same man- one of them settles for small town boredom (after the man had chosen the other girl), and dreams about what life had been like they been together, only to meet the man on a train many years later, and discover he's really not all that great after all; And a dizzying story in which a man's mid-life to death is reduced to half-remembered flashes of drunken nights and never quite knowing what in his life he really has had any control over- told in a rapid succession of seemingly overlapping memories, unsettling as it is confusing.
Even a piece by Stephen King a while back- I wasn't expecting happy go lucky, but maybe something scary or suspenseful to break up the monotony. But no, it was a simple piece about a man waiting in his car on a very hot day, while his wife goes into a convenience store. She proceeds to have a heart attack and die in the store. He goes in and is consoled by the people in the store, and stays around just long enough so that when he leaves to go to the hospital to claim his wife's body- he returns to his car to find he had forgotten the dog had been in there and is now dead as well. Sigh.
It's not that these stories aren't compelling, or poorly written. The fact that I have plowed my way through them, despite the somber subject matter, speaks to the fact that they are clearly interesting pieces. And maybe I read them, hoping for a little sunshine to peak through somewhere. A little joy... perhaps some whimsy. It's gotta happen sooner or later, right? I suppose I'll just keep reading to find out.
Recent yarns I have read include: A story about a boy who makes it his life's goal, quite apropos of nothing, to press his lips to every square inch of his body- he actually snaps vertebrae in the process; A tale of a put upon guy with an asthmatic toddler, his ex-wife hateful and hurtful, his job and carpool mates a miserable mess; A remembrance of two college girls, from different backgrounds, interested in the same man- one of them settles for small town boredom (after the man had chosen the other girl), and dreams about what life had been like they been together, only to meet the man on a train many years later, and discover he's really not all that great after all; And a dizzying story in which a man's mid-life to death is reduced to half-remembered flashes of drunken nights and never quite knowing what in his life he really has had any control over- told in a rapid succession of seemingly overlapping memories, unsettling as it is confusing.
Even a piece by Stephen King a while back- I wasn't expecting happy go lucky, but maybe something scary or suspenseful to break up the monotony. But no, it was a simple piece about a man waiting in his car on a very hot day, while his wife goes into a convenience store. She proceeds to have a heart attack and die in the store. He goes in and is consoled by the people in the store, and stays around just long enough so that when he leaves to go to the hospital to claim his wife's body- he returns to his car to find he had forgotten the dog had been in there and is now dead as well. Sigh.
It's not that these stories aren't compelling, or poorly written. The fact that I have plowed my way through them, despite the somber subject matter, speaks to the fact that they are clearly interesting pieces. And maybe I read them, hoping for a little sunshine to peak through somewhere. A little joy... perhaps some whimsy. It's gotta happen sooner or later, right? I suppose I'll just keep reading to find out.
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