A story to get by

After having her Nuk taken away by the evil Mom and Dad and after a good 40 minutes of crying, Margo has a visitor--her brother--come to ease her mind with a book.

Sibling harmony

One of the most rewarding aspects of parenting is witnessing a moment of harmony and cooperation between kids...however brief that moment is. Our two kids have their share of power struggles, but when they connect it's priceless. Here's to a harmonious Friday!

Suess on the loose

Southern comfort

Aunt K and Uncle A traveled from Arkansas to visit us this past week. This picture pretty much sums up how lucky we are to have love in the family. See you guys again soon!

While no one is watching

Happy Birthday, Miles. Keep on playing and singing as if no one is watching you. You're doing great! ~Dad

Same as it ever was

Tradition is a curious thing yet not surprising if you believe we are creatures of habit. Holidays overflow with tradition from the set-up (tree up, then lights) to execution (dad turns on Christmas music, everyone sits down around the tree) to tear-down (wrap the lights, fold the tree, promise yourself next year you'll start shopping sooner).

It's always fascinated me how many traditions appear to be practiced and repeated just because that's how they've always been done. The danger there is that the rituals that make up traditions can lose meaning, and in some cases, be more of a burden than an enjoyment (when everyone knows it and no one says anything!). On the other hand, I sure have fond memories of traditions that I so anticipated each year at Christmastime. The childhood anticipation of Christmas was truly a magical time, and I hope some of the traditions Emily and I enjoyed growing up can be shared with our kids to make the time of waiting magical for them, too.

As with anything, it's important to strike a balance. Tradition is good when it brings about a true source of joy in bringing family and friends together, but you shouldn't be afraid to break it. Just as your mind--not a memento or keepsake or photograph--holds a memory, kindred spirits--not a ritual or time or place--make a family.

A long to-do list

Warmer weather is a welcome opportunity to get outside. As the melting of snow begins to reveal the once-green grass and lush vegetation, I'm reminded of the work to be done around the house this spring, summer and autumn: re-landscape gardens, repair the irrigation system, reengineer the window box, cut the grass, trim the bushes.

The list itself isn't terribly overwhelming, but I know it will grow and will depend on having time, some money and (hopefully) some helping hands. What I do hope, however, is to make these things fun and memorable and not take them too seriously or let my perfectionism allow mem to be too inefficient. From  the standpoint of family, I hope we can all play a part, and I hope I can remember that it all doesn't need to be done at once. My usual modus operandi is to draw the plans, buy the tools, break ground, sow, nourish, harvest, and enjoy all one day one...so to speak.

Photographically, my goals for the year are to see more detail. To zoom in, or better yet, take two steps closer. Texture and pattern and contrast are everywhere, and while I enjoy photographing the kids and events, I would like to add to my 'miscellaneous' and 'nature' picture albums. I should be able to intertwine this goal with the many projects we have planned for this year, capturing the before-and-afters. Committing to this blog should help keep me on track.

Take me home

After selling and moving out of our townhome in a very small window of time, we've spent the past month and a half living with some friends. In another length of that same time we will move into yet another home.

For as much work as moving our place of residence was, and for as cramped as we maybe thought sharing a single family home would be, it's astonishing how quickly we were able to adapt to our basement dwelling and adopt a sense of belonging in our borrowed space. It's a good reminder that the items in a house don't make a home...the people do.

To know love

"...and the greatest gift of life is to know love." ~ The Indigo Girls, All That We Let In

Here are three edits from one of the most beautiful wedding receptions I've had the pleasure to attend. Alex and Kate were wonderful hosts, mingled with the crowd, danced with the kids, and reminded us of the simplicity and power of love.

Thanks

Aunt Kate and Uncle Alex were sure good to Miles this past week. Miles warmed up to them quickly last Tuesday afternoon in the back seat of our the car on the ride home from the airport. Having only half-met once before, the new family bonded like old friends. Kate and Alex made themselves at home and never once complained of the cold Minnesota weather (we keep our house rather chilly) or the late-night crying (Miles sets his own schedule). Instead, they floated with our family, helped with the chores, taught us how to cook, shared in our hobbies.

And made us miss them when they had to leave. See you soon, dear friends.

Saturday

Saturdays used to be for sleeping in. No such thing with a 9-month old to appease. But I love the "real life-ness" of Saturdays and the regrouping that happens as the day unfolds. Saturdays are perfect for natural light, wide-angle, journalistic, bed-hair, baby screaming, who-cares-about-noise, real life photography.

Generations

Let's back up

It's late. It's quiet. I was just about to shut the laptop when this photograph struck me with emotion. More than four months have passed since Miles was born and for some reason I haven't, until now, considered the gravity of the event. I look now into his eyes in this photograph and I am floored by so many thoughts, the most poignant of which is the amazement of how far he has come.

Born at 5lbs and a couple of weeks early, Miles Harold Michel Bremer--proudly double-middle-named after his two grandpas--was as healthy as a horse, just not as big as one. Before leaving the hospital, he had to prove a few things to the Fairview Ridges Hospital nursing staff. I can eat. I can poo. I can keep warm. Emily and I and our new son spent a total of ten days in the hospital while Miles did just those things. It was our curse for such a quick delivery. (Emily will always remind me that the labor, on the other hand, was brutal...that story another time). Finally being released to go home was the greatest day, and although Miles spent a week or so wrapped in a BiliBlanket (Google this if necessary) to keep him from looking like a Simpson, we eventually felt like a family.

But our lives have definitely gotten crazier. Having a child really does change your life and the time spent adjusting sometimes keeps you from seeing the bigger picture and realizing that these days will not last forever. And I know it must happen to other first-time parents: anticipating the child with such a set of expectations only to have things happen in a completely different sequence and fashion. In baby mode, I have trouble remembering a minute into the past, much less plan for those in the future. But those minutes add up, and while change is not measurable from moment to moment, change does occur.

And it's not until you find a quiet moment, late at night, nearly ready to shut off your laptop when something catches your eye...and you see it...

...and I remember why part of me senses four months have been in slow motion. This part that feels the pain of sleepless nights, ringing ears, smelly diapers, and my own impatience. But a larger part of me will never know where the time went. This part of me looks at a photograph of my son twelve days old wearing a knit yellow cap that, today, is too small. Young but growing. Helpless but learning. Small to the world but loved more than he will ever know.

This is who we are

This is who we are. This is what we do. We hold onto each other. We stand by each other. We are a family.

American Pastime

The countdown is underway for the new Twins stadium, which I think will be open in 2010. In an effort to take in as much as I can of an old ballpark, the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, I attended a game last night with a few guys from work. I always forget how much fun a baseball game can be. The weather was warm and the pre-game atmosphere on Kirby Puckett Drive outside the dome was refreshing. Add to that a corn dog, some cheese curds and a St. Paul brewed Summit Pale Ale and I was a happy fan. Even though the Twins lost and crept below the .500 mark.

Still, as happens with many things, the innocence and pleasure of the game has changed from what I remember as a child. Baseball games seemed so magical. Players whose faces I normally saw only on baseball cards were living legends playing with and against my hometown favorites. The Metrodome seemed like a country all its own, larger than life itself. Of course as an adult, we realize the players have flaws, bad attitudes, trade teams, and have personal managers trying to get them the best contract. And the Metrodome, we realize, isn't the most ideal way to experience baseball. Fake grass. Nylon roof.

I think there is a positive spin, however. I think back to the games I attended with my Dad...the games that inspired me to swing a bat, throw a ball and buy countless packs of baseball cards with my modest allowance. As a dad, those games must have been special to him, too. Hopefully because he saw the joy in his own son's eyes as he watched his favorite player, "...the center fielder, number 34, Kirby-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y Puckett!" trot out of the dugout and begin tossing the ball to left fielder Dan Gladden. Those were the days.

And those will be the days. In time I'll put a little Minnesota Twins jersey on my own son and join my dad at the ballpark, where we will once again feel the magic we both felt as kids. We'll pay $10 for a corn dog. We'll snack on a few deep fried cheese curds. We'll bear the heat, waiting in line for a ticket. And we'll love every minute of it.