Abstemious.

ThatÂ’s the word of the day for Thanksgiving this year. Why, you may wonder, would I associate the word abstemious for a holiday that has become practically a byword for gluttony?

Because our littlest bio-terrorist gave the Viking Bride and me the gift that keeps on giving. And giving. And giving.

Matching stomach bugs. Hit us both at about 2:30 on Monday morning. The Viking Bride is of an iron constitution and got up and spent the day training the new nanny.

I spent it in bed, more or less, and I think you know what I mean by that qualifier.

Thus, I anticipate a quiet Thanksgiving, a Thanksgiving spent more for the company than the food. The company has always been good, in the past. In the past, though, weÂ’ve all always eaten too much. Way too much. And that has always been fun. The Viking Bride once described hunger on Thanksgiving as the absence of feeling sick.

I hope that you all have a safe and terrific Thanksgiving.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:56 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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We dads who are fortunate enough to take care of our kids all by ourselves don't like to be called "Mr. Mom". I speak for myself only in that. I prefer to be called Primary Caregiver. Too much? How about Happy Homemaker?

You see, the in-laws have escaped back to Norway and we have a gap in coverage of several days. I took yesterday off from work and will take tomorrow, too. It was glorious. Simply, totally, glorious.

We were on time to school, hair brushed, ready to go. So what that the Girl Child's knees were almost torn out on her jeans? Kindly, no one said anything.

We waited, after depositing the Girl Child, for the appearance of the fire truck. "Harrow, Fireman", sang out the Boy Child! It was a glorious pumper truck capable of holding some 750 gallons. And the Boy Child and I had the exclusive attention of the firemen for about 10 minutes while the school got organized. We got to see inside the truck and I got to take a picture of the Boy Child on the truck. Then the firemen had to leave to respond to a call so we got to watch them change into their gear. The Boy Child was very impressed.

I decided that this was a good learning opportunity, so I suggested, to great acclaim from the Boy Child, that we remove ourselves to the library and take out books on firetrucks. I made him go up to the librarians and ask where those books might be found. We each pulled up a windsor chair and poked around through them until we had selected a couple of interesting ones. We then killed a little time reading other books and selecting other ones to add to our pile. He was very well behaved, although he did object to being called "tomato", as in my instructions to him when he lags behind: "Catch up, my little tomato". (Get it? Catch up/Catsup?)

Off we then went to the supermarket, where, happily ensconced in one of the shopping carts with a pretend car stuck to the front, we "made groceries", as we used to say in New Orleans. Oh, and where he kind of embarrassed me. On the way in, he asked me a question and I replied, either, "yes, sir" or "no, sir". Well, I guess he liked that because throughout the store, he kept calling me "sir". He'd stick his golden little head out of his car and call back to me, loudly, "sir!". I got a couple of looks from little old ladies who wondered, one of them audibly, about the kind of discipline I kept my son under. Embarrassed or not, I did nothing to discourage him. He was having fun and that was all that mattered to me. And besides, I kept changing aisles as quick as I could!

After that, we picked the Girl Child up from school (after stopping to acquire more lightbulbs). She was happy to see us and off we went home where I simply dropped all the bags from the supermarket on the floor of the kitchen in order to speed the preparation of the requested mac and cheese. It was consumed with great happiness and we repaired to the bed chambers to read pre-nap stories. I had just gotten the Girl Child into bed and the Boy Child changed into his diaper when the doorbell rang.

It was the plumber who had come to charge me $120 to do nothing with my outside taps. He told me that I have frost-free pipes, showed me how to turn them off, and explained that nothing needed to be done to them to prepare them for winter. He declined to charge me less than his service fee which I thought a bit much since he showed up, poked his head into my basement, and left. Still, happy enough a report.

The Boy Child went off to bed with no protest and so did the Girl Child. At least, the Girl Child went off to bed and stayed up there long enough for me to install the new portable 250G hard-drive for the laptop so that I could back up all 4.5 years of kid pictures. We'd be devestated if they were lost and it seemed like a good idea to back 'em up.

The Girl Child quit her boudoir just as I was about to start preparing dinner. Cauliflower soup (omit the truffles when making for kids) and chili (omit all spicy bits for kids). Both from scratch.

I sat the Girl Child up on the counter and she kept me company while I cooked. After a bit, while I had been slipping her pieces of yellow and orange pepper, she said the nicest thing to me:

Pappa, I'm having such a nice time. We're chatting about nice things, you're giving me yummy things to snack on, and I'm just enjoying being with you. Its so nice!

Note to self: check on getting her pony.

Seriously, I almost melted into a puddle in the middle of the floor. And before you ask, that's exactly how she put it. I am constantly shocked by how bright and mature she is. Waaay beyond 4.5 years old.

Eventually, she went off to color while I finished cooking and cleaned the kitchen.

Promptly at five, the Boy Child awoke and joined us. The chili was a big hit. He ate his entire bowl (unusual for him) and she had two bowls and a bowl of soup, too.

One small conflict during dinner resulted in my raising my voice to the Boy Child (who was making a huge mess). His reply? Finger pointing at me, shaking up and down, he bellowed: "Stop! Yell! ME!" He's got a bit of a temper on him, that's for sure. I loved it.

After dinner, we made a mess in the playroom, danced to bad music from the 80's, and read stories, all until Mamma got home from work around 7 or 7:30.

Off went the kids to bed and I changed lightbulbs and took out garbage and otherwise made myself useful.

It was just a perfect day.

If I had the financial ability to pay my mortgage without the need to work, I suspect I'd be very quick to be the stay at home dad full time.

I anticipate another lovely day tomorrow. We also, tomorrow, will go to spend shabbat with my grandfather again as we did last Friday.

So, if I don't have time to post tomorrow, have a great weekend y'all!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:23 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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You know that you have spent too much time watching your dvd collection of the entire Wooster and Jeeves set (all four seasons, baby) when you sign off on an email to your wife with: "Tootle pip, my little inebriated newt fancier".

My in-laws enjoyed watching these things.

At the conclusion of the Sunday night episode viewing, my father in law noticed he left a ring on the shelf of one of our bookshelves. He called my mother in law in for the rescue. While she was scrubbing away at the ring, we had the following conversation:

F-i-L (to me): You know, she doesn't even charge me for this!

M-i-L (to him, having not heard what he said): You have to be more careful. You know that. [tone, restrained fury, words bitten off]

Me (to F-i-L): You know, just because she doesn't charge you, doesn't mean you don't pay.

I thought the good man was going to fall out of his chair, he was laughing so hard.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:07 AM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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Maybe just some small gratification.

Over the weekend at some point, I clicked over the 50k counter for unique visits since I was invited to move over to MuNu. Fifty thousand visitors later and I still haven't done much to tart the place up (thanks again Margi, for the cool banners you made out of my photographs!).

Anyway, thanks for coming, y'all. Not too many entries these past few days. I've been a bit preoccupied with my grandfather. I'm itching to write something, though, so be patient and I will update soon.

Pax tibi and thanks for all the visits and the comments!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 05:21 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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A day at the hospital was . . . what. IÂ’m kind of at a loss to describe it. I suppose it was fulfilling.

I spent the whole day, from about 9 in the morning to 7 at night. My grandfather alternated between sleep and alert and awake and communicative. One cousin drove up from D.C. and another flew in from San Diego. Both came to say goodbye. IÂ’m glad they were able to attend and spend a little time with him.

The medical treatment has been halted. No more antibiotics and no feeding tube. The anti-seizure medication is still going in and he is receiving enough fluids through his iv line to keep the line open. But nothing more. No nourishment. This is at his express direction. He told his sons yesterday that he is ready to die, that he wants to die, that he doesnÂ’t want and will not live like this anymore.

And yet, somehow, now that he has made this decision, he seems very calm about it. Except for the pain, of course. That he is not calm about but he is refusing medication. He seems determined to wring every little bit out of the remaining time he has left. He is, when he is with us, totally with us. Total attention. Questions, memories, love, flirting with the nurses, and a sharp and fierce light burning behind his eyes, still. His speech is impaired but thatÂ’s not slowing him down.

I told him lots of things, yesterday. One thing I said to him was: “You’ve taught me so many things in my life and now you’re teaching me how to die; with strength and with dignity”. It is a useful lesson to learn.

I managed to tell him that I love him without breaking down. He knew that already but I was determined to repeat it to him. How many more times do I get to tell him that? He told me that he loves me, too.

Now I need a moment, here, to get myself together.

I also told him that he was the most important influence in my life. He nodded and then fell asleep holding my hand.

And I broke down a bit and sobbed quietly as he slept.

Before that, though, I reminded him that the Girl Child and the Boy Child had been there all day the day before. And it was the only time I saw him smile. He absolutely grinned with pure pleasure. And I told him that the Boy Child insisted on kissing him while he slept and then insisted on being picked up to do it again because he wasnÂ’t satisfied with the first kiss he gave my grandfather. My grandfather grinned again.

We reminisced yesterday about the trips we took – houseboating on Lake George and down the Sacramento River, touring Israel in 1983 and hiking together up Mount Masada. Trips to Washington D.C. and trips to watch the Harvard-Yale game.

I reminded him about how he cheated me on every single hand when I told him that I learned how to play poker and he suggested that I play with him. After we played, he told me that he cheated on every hand, that I didnÂ’t notice, and that I should never play again. And I never have.

After we talked about that, he grimaced in pain and I asked him if I could get him anything. He said, “a new deck” and I told him that if I did, he’d probably just cheat me again and he said, “probably”.

I’ll end this note with an exchange he had with my father, his son in law. My father came in and apologized for forgetting to bring the wine and my grandfather said to him: “a fatal error”.

I cried, off and on, the whole drive home. I donÂ’t recommend driving on I-95, in heavy traffic, while crying.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:25 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I spent much of the day at the hospital yesterday. Well, maybe that wasn't true. We spent about four hours there. We brought the children with us. They played in my grandfather's room while he slept and while he had small seizures in his sleep. They are used to his being in a hospital setting, having visited him most weekends while he was in the rehab facility, so this was not disturbing for them. Although we did tell the Girl Child that he was dying. Having the kids at the hospital, along with my uncles and my mother, made it seem much better somehow. Much less scary, much more like death is a normal part of life. I am not explaining this well and I don't know that I can. It is just that they were not shielded from this experience and the way they regularly went over to him in the course of their play to talk to him and tell him that they loved him and to tell him the news about our new baby just made it seem so every day. They were not scared by his appearance. In fact, the Boy Child insisted that I hold him up so that he could kiss his great grandfather on his cheek. Twice. The Girl Child insisted on the same.

We don't know how much my grandfather heard of all this. He was drifting in and out of his stupor and having multiple small seizures.

He's had a major stroke, as it turns out. There is no hope of improvment and he wants nothing heroic, nothing invasive done to him to prolong his life. I cannot blame him in this. The man can no longer swallow as a result of the stroke.

I stayed with him when everyone went to get lunch. I just couldn't bring myself to leave.

He woke at around 3:30. I was sitting next to him and I held his hand. He held my hand very tightly.

I tried so very hard not to cry. Just like I'm trying now. Mostly its working.

The Girl Child wanted to know why I was so sad and I explained it to her later.

It seemed to me that he was trying to say goodbye to me. I think he was. At least, sitting here now I am sure of it. I talked to him about some of my cherished memories, I held his hand tightly while he experienced pain, he tried to speak to me, I held on when I was afraid I was going to break down entirely and couldn't trust myself to speak, I somewhere found inside myself a place where I could speak to him calmly and soothingly. He knew I was there and he knew who I was and he nodded in the right places.

I relinquished my spot after about 20 minutes to my aunt, his sister. She's the eldest so she must be about 95. She was driven down by my cousin, her daughter, from New Jersey. It took two hours and I think that they both knew that they were saying goodbye. They were very close all their lives.

I abhor melodrama and I don't think I am being melodramatic here. But, while he was talking to his sister, I locked eyes with my grandfather from the foot of his bed. His eyes, for just a moment, looked so fierce to me, so filled with resolve and with the spark. So trapped in his frail body. I felt as if he were saying goodbye to me.

I'm going back this morning.

Just because I think he may have already said goodbye to me doesn't mean for a moment that I have said goodbye to him. Or that I'm going to let him die without my being there for him.

We've always been very close. I have no doubts that while he loves all of his grandchildren very much, I was the first born and I was without question his favorite.

I hate this.

He was right, some months ago, when he told my father that it is very hard to come into this world and it is just as hard going out.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 06:00 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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It is for me. Purely for me. I need a moment, a space, a place, where I can be very sad.

You see, I'm not ready. I'm not willing or . . . . I don't know. I'm not prepared to, although I'm going to, take my children with me down to Greenwich Hospital this weekend and say goodbye to my grandfather.

He's had a stroke and has an infection in his heart.

My mother and her brothers had a long discussion with him today. He wants off the medication, on the morphine, and, well, off the planet. On his terms. On his decision.

I realize some may read that to mean he has a suicide urge. I don't know why I'm going to address that since, as I pointed out, this one isn't for you anyway. He doesn't. He just knows, as we all do, that he is very ill and will not get better, will not shake this, will not improve, will no longer have a quality of life to speak of, will no longer what, exactly?

I need a moment. I will not cry at my desk, ok?

Will no longer be able to put the top down in the car like he did when I was a kid in the autumn to look at the leaves; will no longer speak to me in that outrageous half English, half Cambridge, all 1930's Harvard accent;

I'm not ready to finish this right now. I am not ready to reduce to a list, in some electronic form, my precious memories of him. Not yet. I'll have to do it soon. Some of these memories, frankly, go to the absolute core of who I am as a person. They are my touchstones, rubbed a little shiny and smooth at the edges, but they are experiences that have formed me. His influence on my life cannot be overstated.

But I cannot reflect on it all now. No.

Now, I have to go home and celebrate my wedding anniversary today. Well, maybe not celebrate.

I am devastated. I knew that he was going to go one day. And I always worried that if he did, I would collapse, that I would get all hollowed out and slowly deflate. That may still happen, I suppose. Beats me.

I am closing comments for the first time.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:38 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Yup, that's right, another year has rolled on by and I am another year older. I refer you, respectfully, to my Today in History edition of last year of this same date, to see what cool things happened and who was born or died on First November.

I have been up since three o'clock this morning. Couldn't sleep for some reason, not really sure why. So I thought I might come down and reflect a little on the year past. I had some big changes and there are more on the horizon. I'd like to review: bought and sold a house; moved to Connecticut; seriously pondered career changes and began the inevitably slow process of effectuating same; watched my much beloved grandfather go from hale and hearty to a bare shell of the once robust and wonderful man he was for all my life; began interacting with my son as he began to talk; had the joy (mixed with terror) of hearing my wife tell me that she was pregnant; was put on the board of an old and august institution; made a couple of new friends; began to exercise every business day; perfected a recipe for black beans that is so good that if you tasted it you'd go home and punch your mama in da mouth (and it is vegetarian, Helen!); went to London all by my lonesome and met Helen; had dinner with Simon; and, through many acts of grace, small and large, had my faith in the essential goodness of man re-affirmed. Oh yeah, I should also add that this was another year in which I learned that the love I had for my wife and children the year before was shallow and insignificant compared with the love I feel for them now.

I don't have any idea, really, what the next year of life may bring for me and for those lives I necessarily touch, and I can't really forecast anything, but just the same, I hope it is a year of growth. I hope it is a year of plenty, in the sense that our little family will grow by one more and that one more, I hope, will be healthy. I hope it is a year of continued good health. I hope it is a year of, if not reasonably good fortune, at least not bad fortune.

There is something deliciously self-indulgent about making yourself a pot of coffee at three o'clock in the morning. I'm going to go back and enjoy it now. As we are now without nanny, as you may have noticed from the post from yesterday, I am going to spend the evening at home. Yes, there will be a good bottle of wine involved but no, it will not be a quiet evening out. Still, sounds like it might be just fine.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:56 AM | Comments (19) | Add Comment
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1 "I should also add that this was another year in which I learned that the love I had for my wife and children the year before was shallow and insignificant compared with the love I feel for them now." Brought a tear to my eye. Lovely.

Posted by: Mia at November 01, 2005 06:26 AM (1xMuf)

2 happy birthday rp!

Posted by: sn at November 01, 2005 08:50 AM (cHOGW)

3 Happy Birthday,RP. Enjoy your day.

Posted by: Jocelyn at November 01, 2005 10:40 AM (jkRb/)

4 Happy birthday! My youngest shares today with you as her birthday.

Posted by: Jordana at November 01, 2005 11:00 AM (jZLsU)

5 Happy Birthday RP!! Wishing you happiness today and all days. Hugz!

Posted by: Wicked H at November 01, 2005 11:29 AM (iqFar)

6 Have a great birthday. Even if you can't celebrate the way you planned, enjoy it.

Posted by: owlish at November 01, 2005 11:44 AM (rzugH)

7 Aha! A fellow Scorpio! I knew there was a reason why we got along so well! Happy Birthday, RP!

Posted by: Kathy at November 01, 2005 12:37 PM (kZ6IS)

8 I'll be sure to raise a glass in your honor tonight. Happy Birthyday RP!!!

Posted by: phin at November 01, 2005 12:47 PM (Xvpen)

9 Happy birthday, RP! You share a birthdate with my second son.

Posted by: JohnL at November 01, 2005 05:13 PM (YVul2)

10 Just raised a glass to ya, RP! Well... a can, actually. Happy birthday!!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at November 01, 2005 07:05 PM (ScR/I)

11 Well, Happy Happy Birthday, my friend. Many happy returns of the day! A toast to your health, happiness, and life of continued riches! Cheers! ; )

Posted by: Christina at November 01, 2005 09:00 PM (zJsUT)

12 Many happy returns, mate.

Posted by: Simon at November 02, 2005 01:53 AM (UKqGy)

13 May the year ahead bring everything you wish for and then some. Happy Birthday, RP.

Posted by: Jennifer at November 02, 2005 06:31 AM (y4DOI)

14 Hope you had a wonderful Birthday! Here's to a good year ahead. You know, I love being up early in the morning, but since I also love to sleep in that doesn't happen very often. Still, there is something about the quiet at 3 a.m. Best of luck with the nanny search.

Posted by: Turtleherder at November 02, 2005 10:56 AM (aot1k)

15 Your life is a rich feast. Happy birthday!

Posted by: Amy at November 02, 2005 10:59 AM (nUCsP)

16 Your description of the year past calls to mind Kipling: If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it... Many happy returns, RP, and heartiest belated congratulations on your latest good news re #3.

Posted by: MCNS at November 02, 2005 12:31 PM (pbCqD)

17 Belated happy birthday! So, ah, any chance you'll share that black bean recipe? (Not that I'm looking to punch my mama in da mouth.)

Posted by: nic at November 02, 2005 04:06 PM (l+W8Z)

18 Hey! I left a Happy Birthday message here yesterday! But now I don't see it...I think I opened up your next comment box too quickly, RP and it got erased. So here it is again: HAPPY BIRTDHAY! Belated. Still works, though. And I loved what you said about the love for your family. Yes, it keeps growing, doesn't it? Amazing!

Posted by: Amber at November 02, 2005 06:42 PM (zQE5D)

19 Happy birthday and many happy returns. I always wondered about that "happy returns" thing. I mean, it's nice to wish money on somebody but should you really bring up taxes when wishing somebody well?

Posted by: Jim at November 03, 2005 03:51 PM (tyQ8y)

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