Going Vogue

"Daddy, turn on the blue light!" "Alright, Noah. Are you ready to strike a pose?" Noah spread his arms wide and puckered his lips. Then I flipped the switch on his fluorescent blue light to reveal his uncanny resemblance to Ben Stiller's Blue Steel. Our little Zoolander loves to be dramatic, and he has helped me revive my own inner ham.

Together, Noah and I have slow danced to High School Musical 3, led lively parades around the house, pretended to be monsters and robots by putting blankets and empty boxes on our heads, scolded stuffed animals for their inappropriate behavior, and sung our hearts out cause "We all need somebody to lee...ean on."

Although I wasn't exactly afraid to go vogue before Noah, fabulous was certainly not the adjective people would use to describe me. I'm sitting here writing this in my first ever pair of jeans that aren't gigantic, hiding the actual shape and size of my body. I think they're the only pair I've bought in the past 10 years. Noah, on the other hand, often looks handsome and stylish, thanks to Mary's inclination for fashion.

Considering his outgoing personality, showmanship, strong individual will, and utter exuberance, Noah will be turning heads wherever he goes. Throw in his forced smile that looks like he's being simultaneously attacked by a spotlight and a barrage of neck and chin tickles, and he's downright unforgettable.

Nobody knows how much his imaginative, unfettered charisma will affect me, but as long as he's conducting, I'll let my body move to the music. There's really nothing to it.

Treading on Thin Vice

Mary and I finally joined a gym this week, now that we feel comfortable leaving Ari in a playroom for an hour. To be honest, I felt a little deceitful telling Noah about the cool place we were going and how he could play with other kids. Throughout my life I've gone through periods of overdoing things like tv, video games, food and other mostly tame vices. Exercise is my latest insatiable craving.

I got my first taste (in a long time) about two months ago when I started playing basketball on Sunday nights. Never in my life have sore muscles felt so good, and I think I'm actually going to miss the feeling once my body is in shape again. My skills were rusty, but I made up for it with some gutsy defense and creative play making.

I have had varied relationships with the gym over the years, even though the literal experience has changed very little. As a young teenager I was excited to develop pro wrestler-sized muscles, checking myself out in the mirror between each set. I soon became embarrassed in front of the varsity athletes as I failed to move up to the all-important 45 pounders. Then in college I always had a few other things I felt like I should be doing instead. When I finally had more free time than anyone can imagine, living with two roommates and working 9-5, the gym routine had become mundane, and I was only trying to maintain my level of fitness and strength. Thus, an excuse or distraction was easily rationalized.

Although the playroom at our gym certainly isn't Disney World, Noah made some friends, and he displayed a reasonable level of satisfaction with the situation. He thought my muscle-building activities were pretty cool, and he pointed out all of the machines that he was gonna try.

We try to keep our self-focused activities to a minimum, but both Mary and I would admit that our entire family is better off if we treat ourselves a little bit. Sometimes when I feel like I can't take any more of Noah's antics, his behavior probably wouldn't sound utterly horrible to an observer; however, our state of mind, fatigue and health can easily swing our reactions from slightly annoyed to infuriated. As we sneak in a few seemingly simple treats every week, we will continue to balance our desires and our energy, responding to our young children's needs.

Maybe it's the surefire predictability of the activity or the forgotten memory of dripping sweat or the chance to actually accomplish a goal that I set, but the once loathed activity of the treadmill has now become a steadfast gateway to new heights. Or maybe it's just the music blaring out of the hip hop dance class. Either way, "I've got a feeling..."

Let it Be

Another recurring theme in Noah's life, besides anticipating Somedays, is the bedtime ritual of songs, and "Let it Be" typically takes center stage as the grand finale. The song often offers a fascinating, fun glimpse into Noah's memory, concerns, desires and imagination. Sunday night's example (with Noah in bold):


Let it Be (4x). It's time to go to bed now, Let it Be (2x)
Today Vivi came to play, and we threw lots of snowballs
And we sled down the driveway and went inside and drank hot chocolate!
Let it Be (2x)

Ari looked like a pink furry starfish, and Noah wore his cool snowsuit
And Noah's boots and hat and mittens - ouch hands are cold!
Let it Be (2x)

Let it Be (4x). Good night my boy Noah, Let it Be (2x)

Sometimes when we play hockey - we shoot and lose the puck
And then we get the flashlight and I find it and shoot and score and you fall down!
Let it Be (2x)

Tomorrow Daddy goes to work, and I hope you have a good day
Maybe you'll... watch Monster's Aliens and play hockey and drink chocolate milk and eat my sandwich and take a nap and then you'll come home?
Let it Be (2x)

Let it Be (4x). Sweet dreams and sleep well, Let it Be (2x)


Mare and I find ourselves singing the song in our heads for sanity purposes, so the Beatles have served us well. I think it first surfaced after a day when Noah fell and cut himself pretty badly, but it has helped rejuvenate much more than a skinned knee ever since.

Let it be a Merry Christmas for all of you.