Radnor Lake

J.P., Jude and I went to Radnor Lake this morning.  Unseasonably warm weather for New Year's Eve, for sure, but we enjoyed getting outside.  Jude and J.P. go to Radnor Lake a lot to walk on the trails, look at the lake and just explore.

It was great, this morning, watching J.P. in his element, throwing rocks in the lake and pretending a stick was his fishing pole.  It wasn't so great when he almost put my eye out "casting" his fishing pole as I stood behind him.  Fortunately, I saw what he was about to do an ducked my head.  Hey, being a parent is dangerous sometimes, you know?

That's J.P.'s "fishing pole" in his left hand.  Dig the binoculars around his neck, a must for an outdoorsman like him.

Yes, this is a photo of a mushroom.  At Radnor Lake.

Reindeer Cupcakes

In keeping with holiday tradition, Jude and J.P. made "Reindeer Cupcakes" for Christmas Day.

Christmas Morning

J.P. with his Home Depot blower.  Notice the goggles on the top of his head.  "Safety first," that's our motto.

J.P., poised for action on our "hockey rink," sporting his new hockey gloves and stick.  Jude and I are raising a big, big hockey fan.

Fang Fingers for Grandma.

J.P., working at his table with what he calls "Playdo Foam."

Twas the Night After Christmas

December 26, the night after Christmas, and I'm sitting in Bongo Java, feeling a little low that after so much anticipation, another Christmas has come and gone.  I'm comforted slightly by the fact that the Christmas decorations are still up, complete with random stockings decorated and hung by each of the employees.  I'm made more cheerful by the fact I'm staring at a one of our Christmas cards above the fireplace at Bongo Java - a 5 x 7 photograph of J.P. in our front yard, grinning, the autumn leaves piled up in the background.  He and I dropped the card off on Christmas Eve.  It's nice to see it again, one more time, before the holiday season ends and we march off into the doldrums of winter.

This was a banner Christmas season in our household, mostly because J.P. is the perfect age for Santa Claus.  His innocence is so beautiful it's almost painful, like gazing into a cloudless sky so blue it hurts your eyes.  He sat in Santa's lap not once but twice, first at the Green Hills Mall, then later at a children's event we attended at the Schermerhorn, home of the Nashville Symphony.  Whenever J.P. was asked what he wanted Santa Claus to bring him for Christmas, the first and second things out of his mouth were a backpack and an ice scraper.  Something tells me he's not going to be so easy to please forever.

Christmas Eve, we went to church with Jude's grandmother and family at St. Henry's.  It's a massive church, so unlike St. Patrick, where we attend.  The 6 p.m. service was packed.  As was the case last year, Father Mike made quite an impression on J.P.  Jude and I laughed from our aisle seat as J.P. waved at Father Mike walking past us as the service began.  Later, when we were kneeling, Jude elbowed me and pointed down, where J.P. was on his knees with his hands clasped in prayer.  Jude and I silently exchanged a proud look, sharing the moment.

After dinner at Jude's grandmother's house, we drove home and J.P. chattered away in the back seat.  He didn't get to bed until after 10 p.m., probably the latest he has ever been awake.  Before he went to bed, of course, he and Jude set out some "reindeer cupcakes" for Santa Claus and some pasta for the reindeer.    Then, the fun began as Santa went to work assembling a two-sided easel for J.P.  I was dismayed when I opened the box and emptied out several packages of screws and loose pieces of wood.  Fortunately, Jude came to the rescue and with my not so able assistance, we had the easel up and ready to go in 45 minutes or so.  I didn't get to bed until after 2 a.m.

Christmas morning, slightly past 6 a.m., J.P. woke up and climbed into bed with us, so excited he could barely contain himself.  I went downstairs first, got the video camera ready, then Jude and J.P. followed me into the living room.  He was amazed and literally beamed with happiness, as he examined everything Santa Claus had left for him in front of our fireplace.  Curiously, he did ask me (again, just like last year), to close the fireplace screen, presumably in case Santa decided to return to our house.  That made Jude and me laugh.

Jude's parents and her brother, James, and sister-in-law, Megan, had brunch at our house later Christmas morning.  We exchanged gifts and, as always, Jane and Jimdad were generous to us.  Between my mother and Jude's parents, J.P. is blessed to have such loving grandparents.  Later that afternoon, I went for a quick Christmas Day run, while Jude, and J.P. napped.  Next, it was off to my mother's house to eat again and celebrate Christmas with my family.

J.P. was especially pleased with his easel and his authentic hockey gloves and stick (he's a huge Pekke Rinne fan).  The hit of the holiday, though, was the "Cars" walkie talkie set James and Megan gave him.  He didn't want to put it down.  In fact, we  had to pry it out of his hands when we left for my mother's house Saturday afternoon.  When we arrived back home, J.P. went upstairs, where he kept up a running conversation with Jude - via walkie talkie (or "talkie talkie," as he said) - on the progress of the grilled cheese sandwich she was cooking for his dinner.

This morning, he climbed into our bed - with the walkie talkies - about 6:30 a.m. and, despite my best efforts to pretend like I was asleep, insisted that I take one of the walkie talkies and go downstairs to get his morning milk, talking to him the entire time.  I was dead tired, but I was also blissfully happy as I trudged down, then back up the stairs.

It's a bit strange and a bit sad, somehow, to think that this will be the last Christmas Jude, J.P. and I will share alone.  Next year, three will be four, and I can't help but wonder how J.P. will adjust to not being the sole focus of our attention, as well as our family's.  I think (and hope) it will be good for him.  I can't help but feel that way, as I think about him snuggled next to Jude in her chair in our den this evening, talking directly to her stomach and telling his brother he can't wait to meet him.

It's all good.  

The Salad Days

My morning, so far.

0640 - Wake up to the sound of a bump (JP getting out of bed) and little feet running across the hardwood floor.  JP climbs into our bed, crawls across Jude, puts his face right in my ear and says, "Daddy, can I have some milk?"

0650 - I get up, limp downstairs (running injury to my calf) and pour JP some milk.  Check my cell phone and confirm that a mediation I had set for today settled at 11 p.m last night when the other attorney and her client accepted our final offer.  Sweet!  My day just got a lot easier.

0700 - Take JP his milk, hit the shower.  Get out of the shower and start frying some bacon for his breakfast.  Get dressed.

0730 - JP comes down to pretend "Bongo Java" (a.k.a. the kitchen) to eat breakfast.  He pretends to be Johnny Bag of Doughnuts and I pretend to be Chad from Bongo Java (one of our favorite baristas at Bongo Java).  I put on the Avett Brothers "Gleam" on the iPod.  I take the old Kappa Sigma paddle from college down off the wall and pretend to play guitar.  JP laughs.  Jude walks in, looks at us, then shakes her head.

0800 - Time to brush teeth, we tell JP.  He and I negotiate and ultimately settle on me getting first turn with the toothbrush, while he gets second and third turn.  He asks me to leave the bathroom so he can go potty.  JP needs his privacy.  He's 3 1/2.

0815 - Time for JP and me to leave for school.  Jude dresses JP in his heavy coat.  I point out that it's going to be 60 degrees today.  Jude responds that it's 40 degrees right now.  I check my cell phone and tell her that it's actually 46 degrees now and will be 50 degrees by 9 a.m.  Jude ignores me.  Win some, lose some.

0820 - JP and I walk outside.  I went to sleep last night and it was December and now it's April.  Beautiful, beautiful day.  Bright blue sky, brilliant sunshine and almost 50 degrees.  Wow.  It feels good to be alive, as JP I walk hand in hand to my truck.

0830 - I get to the front of the drop-off line at Children's House and JP hops out of my truck with his school bag.  I shake my head in wonderment and remind myself how lucky we are that he has adjusted so well to school.

0835 - As I walk up on to the front deck at Bongo Java, I see Ms. Joyce and several other regulars sitting outside (in December!), enjoying the weather and their morning coffee.  We chat for a minute or two.

0840 - I walk inside Bongo Java for a "mood elevator" (iced coffee drink) and toast.  Because I'm a regular and Bongo Java is the center of my universe, Chenel doesn't charge me for my coffee.  We chat about her impending move to Paris.  She's another Bongo Java friend JP and I are really going to miss, but we're happy for her, because she's so happy.

0845 - As I'm about to sit down, Chad, the owner of Chago's Cantina (a Mexican restaurant a few doors down from Bongo Java) taps me on the shoulder, says hi, and invites JP, Jude and me to the restaurant Christmas party on Sunday.  It's JP's favorite restaurant and he loves Chad, so I smile, thinking how excited he'll be when I tell him about the party.

0850 - I sit down at a table by a window in the front of Bongo Java with a nice view of the front deck.  I relax, listening to some 1950's music on the sound system and watching people go in and out of the front door, bustling off to wherever they're going and whatever they're doing on an unseasonably warm day in mid-December in Nashville.  I listen to the routine, mundane by comforting sounds of a coffee shop - coffee being made, music playing, people talking quietly.  I look around and see people reading, taking notes, writing in notebooks.  I see Rick (another regular) reading the NY Times, likes he does every morning.  I'm overwhelmed by a feeling of contentment.

0925 - I finish my "mood elevator" and wish I could stop time.

From One Mayor to Another Mayor

J.P. (future mayor of Nashville) shaking hands with our current mayor, Karl Dean, at the beginning of the Christmas Parade last Friday evening.

Christmas Parade

For several years, I've said half-jokingly that I'm "the first man."  Some might call me "Mr. White."  In fact, I have been called "Mr. White."  More than once and deservedly so, given that my wife is rather accomplished and well thought of in certain circles.  Top 40 Under 40, Athena Award nominee (and she should have won, too), Nashville Bar Association board member, etc.

Most recently, Jude accepted a position as Director of the Governor's Cabinet for Children, in which she will be working closely with the first lady, Chrissie Haslam.  That's in addition to her job with Mayor Dean's office.  Okay, so you can see where this is going.  My wife's an accomplished lady.  Not only is she the smartest person I know, she's the best person I know.

Last Friday evening, through her job Mayor Dean's office, Jude, J.P. and I got ride in the Nashville Christmas Parade with a couple of her friends and their families.  Any by ride in the parade, I mean we rode in the front of the parade in a vintage 1950's fire engine, open air, waving to people in downtown Nashville all along the parade route.  It was crazy!  Mayor Dean and the Commissioner of the Fire Department walked along behind us.

At one point, I leaned over to Jude and told her I understood how Miss Tennessee feels (waving to all of my adoring fans).  I'm not sure that analogy works, but still.

The best part is J.P. has an absolute blast.  We brought his noise reducing headphones (endorse by Drew Brees, no less), which was key as the fire engine behind us blasted its sirens for most of the ride.  He was oblivious to the noise, happily staring over the edge of the fire engine and waving to the throngs of people stacked 4 and 5 deep along the parade route, a smile on his face.

It was a top 10 event, for sure, and an evening I'll always remember.

 

Swinging

J.P., pushing the old man on a swing at Berry Hill Park a couple of weekends ago.  Nice legs.

Groundhog Day

I'm sitting in the "crow's nest" at Bongo Java, upstairs, sipping a "mood elevator" and just trying to catch my breath.  It's 9:30 p.m. and J.P. is in bed.  Jude is down for the night and I'm almost down for the count.

We spent the morning at Baptist Hospital - again - before getting released to come home early this afternoon.  Although the nurses there are great, we are so happy not to have to stay overnight again.

A quick recap - this morning, as I waited in the drop-off line at Children's House, my cellphone rang and I saw it was Jude calling.  Ignoring my entreaties to stay home from work today, she planned to go to work, so I was surprised to hear from her so early.  I thought maybe I had left something at the house.  When I answered, she asked me where I was, then said "I think you need to come home."  My heart sank.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I feel dizzy and I think I might pass out," she replied.

"Are you having contractions?"  I asked.  "Yes," she said.  Shit, I thought.  Shit.  "I'll be there in a minute."

I raced home and opened the front door to find Jude in my chair, reclined, feet up, white as a sheet.  She had put a bag together in case we had to stay overnight at the hospital again and was waiting on a return call from the doctor's office.  About 9 a.m., we got tired of waiting and decided to go on to the hospital.  I packed a bag of my own, helped her down the sidewalk and into my truck.

As I started the engine and pulled away from the curb, I looked at her and said, "how fast do we need to get there?"  "Fast," she answered.  "I can handle that," I said, as I mashed the accelerator and sped up Acklen Avenue.  I weaved in and out of traffic (sorry Mom) and easily busted the speed limit (sorry Mom) as I drove down Blakemore, then cut over to West End and, finally, Church Street.  We parked in a handicapped spot in the parking garage, right by the door to triage, and walked inside.  Within minutes, we were in a triage room and being attended to by a wonderful nurse, Jennifer.

Although Jude was having contractions again, the results of a couple of tests (the details of which I will spare you) revealed it was highly unlikely she was in labor.  We also got a good, solid heartbeat on our baby immediately, which was reassuring in and of itself.  The on call doctor (Dr. Forbes) was nice enough to walk over to triage and spend some time with us.  She reviewed with us the results (which were good) of the ultrasound that was done Wednesday afternoon.  Jude was given IV fluids again, but just for a little while, and we were out of the hospital by 12:30 p.m.

It was a long day at the end of a long, stressful week.  If I had a dollar for every silent prayer I said today along, asking for Jude and our baby to be healthy and for her to carry him to term without complications, I would be a rich man.  Then again, I am a rich man.  My pregnant wife and our son, J.P., are safe at home asleep.  And we're going to have another son in a couple of months.  I'm a very rich man.

Crash

Where to begin?

Yesterday, as I was leaving work, I got the telephone call from Jude I never wanted to get.  The kind of telephone call no man wants to get when his wife is almost seven months pregnant.

"I've been in an accident," she said.  "What!?!" I replied.  "Someone rear-ended me at the intersection of Eighth Avenue and Division Street," she said.  Jude's voice was eerily calm as a thousand terrifying images flashed through my mind.  "I'm okay and the police are on the way," she continued.

Jude being Jude, she refused to ask for an ambulance to be sent to the accident scene.  I decided it wasn't worth arguing about - mostly because I knew I couldn't change her mind - and told her stay in her vehicle and that I'd be there as quickly as I could.  I cringed as I turned on to I-65 north, toward Nashville, when I saw how much traffic was on the interstate.

I called my friend, Hal Humphreys, who lives in our neighborhood.  When I told him what had happened, he said, simply, "I'm on it."  He hung up the telephone and drove straight to the accident scene which, thankfully, is only a couple of miles from our house.  Knowing Hal would arrive before me to comfort Jude, to make sure she and our baby were all right, to insist on calling an ambulance if he thought one was needed - all of that meant the world to me.  There are friends (and family) you can count on in life when disaster strikes and there are those you simply can't count on in those types of situations.  Hal would travel to the ends of the earth, no questions asked, for me or for Jude.  That's friendship.

When I finally arrived at the accident scene, I noticed the vehicles has been moved on to Division Street, out of traffic.  I got out walked up to Jude's Honda Pilot, relieved to see there was little damage to the rear.  Hal was standing next to the driver's side door and Jude was still sitting inside.  Had her vehicle been damaged or had she been visibly injured, I might have "gone Nascar" on the college student driving the Subaru Outback that had rear-ended her and started punching him through his open window. Fortunately, he was apologetic and cooperative, which may have saved him from bodily injury.  Seriously.

After the police officer finished his report, Jude drove to the hospital and I met her there.  When the triage nurse realized she was having mild, but consistent contractions, she admitted Jude to the hospital for a 24-hour stay.  Jude was dehydrated, as well, so the nurse put her on an IV to help rehydrate her.  We anxiously watched the computer screen set up to monitor our baby's heartbeat with the fetal heart monitor attached to Jude's stomach.  We also watched with some trepidation as the graph on the computer screen showed spikes that indicated Jude was having contractions.

After I went back to the house to pick up some things for Jude, we hunkered down in our room at Baptist Hospital to stay for the night.  Our nanny and friend, Carley Meade, and her husband, Jon, stayed at our house with J.P.  Like Hal, Carley and Jon are friends we can count on, no doubt.  It was a long night, as you might imagine, and neither of us got much sleep.  Jude's nurse came into our room regularly throughout the night and, frankly, hospitals just aren't very quiet.

By this morning, the contractions had stopped or were few and far between, thank God (and I did a lot of thanking God, during the night).  Our doctor and friend, Roseann Maikis, told me she wanted Jude to stay in the hospital for 24 hours, which meant she could leave at 7 p.m. tonight.  As I write this, Jude is upstairs, asleep (probably) and glad to be home.  She's not as glad to be home as J.P. and I are to have her home.

My wife is a walking contradiction.  She's the strongest person I know, the only person I know, in fact, that I would put in my mother's class in terms of inner strength.  And that's saying something.  And, yet, she's so tender, so gentle and motherly with J.P. - it's amazing to see it.  She's a force of nature.  I love her and I don't know what I would do without her.  

The magic Christmas ornament box.

Just because I love J.P.'s "funny face."

Christmas Time

Last weekend, the Friday after Thanksgiving, Jude, J.P. and I got our Christmas tree.  At halftime of the Tennessee-Kentucky game (UT's first loss to UK in 26 years, but that's another sad, sad story), Jude's dad, Jim, and I brought the Christmas tree in and put it in the stand.  That in itself was a much more enjoyable experience than normal, since Jude and I usually struggle to put the tree up, especially with J.P. underfoot.

J.P. was dead set on decorating the Christmas tree Saturday, so much so that he was really, really pissed when we told him we'd do to it Sunday.  Needless to say, he was ecstatic when I brought the box of Christmas ornaments up from the basement Sunday afternoon, after church.  I had forgotten how much he enjoyed getting the ornaments out of the box and handing them to us last year.  This time around, he was bouncing up and down and waving his hands as we opened up the box of ornaments.  He couldn't wait to fine his favorite ornament - a "Smokey" figurine (UT's mascot).  

One by one, he took the ornaments out of the box and hung them carefully on the Christmas, mostly in the same spot on a low hanging branch.  Within a few minutes, the branch in question was almost touching the ground, loaded down with all of his favorite ornaments (including Smokey).  When we finished decorating the tree, J.P. laid down on the floor, on his stomach, and just stared at the Smokey ornament.  Jude and I looked at each other and laughed.

Later, after his nap, we unpacked our other boxes of Christmas decorations.  Again, J.P. really got a kick out of lifting each decoration out of the box, smiling in wonderment each time.  It really made me appreciate Christmas even more to see him so excited to decorate the tree and the house.