So the kid is about nine and a half months old. He is huge for his age, apparently. People keep telling me so. I've stopped telling people he was a preemie, because they might think he's got gigantism. He doesn't. I think he doesn't, anyway.
Easter is this weekend. I don't celebrate Easter in any fashion whatsoever. I have over the last few years a habit of celebrating Passover in a minor way--having Seder dinner with my sister's family--but even that is more like a party game than a religious holiday. So it's strange for people to be wishing me a happy Easter. I don't know how to respond.
There are two kinds of Easter people. There are the ones who go to church and get all bummed out about Jesus getting killed and all, and there are the ones who just like bunnies and chocolate and eggs and hats. They tend not to mix much. The religious sorts generally don't like the way their most important holiday has been turned into a mutant bunny fest. The mutant bunny people don't want the lectures. This is basically true of all holidays. But with fewer Coca Cola icons for this one.
I'm not even a bunnies person. I find the whole process confusing and disturbing on a lot of levels and I don't expect that I'll pass any Easter traditions on to the Wolf. Dressing it up as a Spring Holiday about renewal and fertility is probably too subtle for an infant, and I don't really care as much about renewal and fertility as the average suburbanite, so I can't make the case for this one like I do for Winter Holiday. I just don't feel the urge to make a celebration out of this one.
For the season, maybe we'll go for Arbor Day or Earth Day, and maybe venerate Captain Planet.
Our daycare lady gave Wolf an Easter present. Carly said, "I didn't even get him an Easter present." I know why she is concerned, I feel kind of like something is off if my kid isn't getting the goods from his folks and has to rely on the daycare lady for magic bunnies. Something to sort out. For now, a video of the Wolf giggling and playing with toys.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Monday, April 14, 2014
A Season Apart
I've almost crossed three months without Facebook. It hasn't been a total break--I still check it about once every week or two just in case I'm missing emergencies (my mother still replies to things there, and I am obligated to at least acknowledge the comments), but for the most part I have lost nothing.
Here's what I've lost:
Some of my friends out in the world have had some serious life events. Kids were born, little videos of first steps and words and things were posted. People died. People got together. They broke up. Lots of things happened. When I checked my status one day I had a sudden wave of guilt when I found out that people I knew had had a child. I barely knew they were expecting. But...
That couple, in particular, I had met one time. One single time. At a friend's party. It was a good party. The pictures were nice. We all became Facebook friends. We talked about hanging out sometime. Then we didn't. Just didn't. I'm glad that these nice people, these fine people who are having tons of fun, have had another nice-looking kid. But my not knowing about it does not impede their happiness one bit. They're fine. Everyone's fine.
The important stuff came through. My mom emailed me when my grandmother was admitted to the hospital, the general prognosis, and when she went home. She asked me to find time to come out to see granny and to think about archiving some conversations with her, to do some interviews. She had such an interesting life, and no one really knows about it. That's important and it came through.
People who follow me on Facebook apparently liked my photos enough that they also joined Instagram. I like Instagram because it's just a flash in a mirror. You run by, there's something nice to look at, you keep going. I don't have to have a long conversation about the stresses in my life. I can show off and celebrate the best things: my wife, my kid, my dogs, my odd observations. People comment on Facebook and Instagram. Sometimes, the same people post different comments on each. It's amusing.
And that's what I really want out of the internet: amusement. I also want reasonably diverse news sources and the ability to communicate. But mostly, amusement. That's why the vast majority of my internet time is spent watching movies, playing games with my friends, looking at pretty pictures, and reading about death and legal foibles on Feedly.
My Twitter account is fully deleted now, and I spent a little time winnowing the Facebook list, but I ran out of juice when they started making me look like a terrible person by deleting "friends." I'll get back to it soon, I still have a hatchet. I do keep Google+ and post to it occasionally, but usually just re-posting those awful news articles I find, or pictures of Legos. It's there because it does a few other things, like allows me to check the coordinates of my wife and friends on the Locations tab. I am watching you, too, if you let me.
Here's what I've lost:
Some of my friends out in the world have had some serious life events. Kids were born, little videos of first steps and words and things were posted. People died. People got together. They broke up. Lots of things happened. When I checked my status one day I had a sudden wave of guilt when I found out that people I knew had had a child. I barely knew they were expecting. But...
That couple, in particular, I had met one time. One single time. At a friend's party. It was a good party. The pictures were nice. We all became Facebook friends. We talked about hanging out sometime. Then we didn't. Just didn't. I'm glad that these nice people, these fine people who are having tons of fun, have had another nice-looking kid. But my not knowing about it does not impede their happiness one bit. They're fine. Everyone's fine.
The important stuff came through. My mom emailed me when my grandmother was admitted to the hospital, the general prognosis, and when she went home. She asked me to find time to come out to see granny and to think about archiving some conversations with her, to do some interviews. She had such an interesting life, and no one really knows about it. That's important and it came through.
People who follow me on Facebook apparently liked my photos enough that they also joined Instagram. I like Instagram because it's just a flash in a mirror. You run by, there's something nice to look at, you keep going. I don't have to have a long conversation about the stresses in my life. I can show off and celebrate the best things: my wife, my kid, my dogs, my odd observations. People comment on Facebook and Instagram. Sometimes, the same people post different comments on each. It's amusing.
And that's what I really want out of the internet: amusement. I also want reasonably diverse news sources and the ability to communicate. But mostly, amusement. That's why the vast majority of my internet time is spent watching movies, playing games with my friends, looking at pretty pictures, and reading about death and legal foibles on Feedly.
My Twitter account is fully deleted now, and I spent a little time winnowing the Facebook list, but I ran out of juice when they started making me look like a terrible person by deleting "friends." I'll get back to it soon, I still have a hatchet. I do keep Google+ and post to it occasionally, but usually just re-posting those awful news articles I find, or pictures of Legos. It's there because it does a few other things, like allows me to check the coordinates of my wife and friends on the Locations tab. I am watching you, too, if you let me.
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