A Boy Turns 5

Not just any boy.  My boy.  My oldest son.  My guy.

Yesterday, J.P. turned 5 years old.  I'm astonished almost beyond words at how quickly 5 years have passed by.  5 years and 1 day ago, at 11:11 a.m., I heard him cry for the first time, then I looked at Jude on the operating table and we cried together.  The nurse swaddled J.P. tightly and laid him on Jude's chest for a moment, then she handed him to me with instructions to follow her to the nursery.

I was terrified, as I dutifully followed the nurse down the hall.  Terrified I would drop my son or that I would hold him so tightly I might hurt him.  Truly, I had never felt so inadequate in all of my life.  I felt helpless and out of control, kind of like I feel right now, when I think of J.P. turning 5 years of age.

To celebrate, we had a family breakfast at Bongo Java.  The 4 of us, sitting at our usual table in the back.  As anyone who reads my blog regularly knows, Bongo Java is the center of my universe.  Since I've lived downtown and especially since J.P. was born, I've spent more time here than anywhere else, outside of my house and my office.  I've been called Bongo Java's most loyal customer and that's probably true.

J.P. has been coming to Bongo Java with me, literally, since he was old enough to ride in my stroller ("the City Elite").  We've had breakfast together here (yes, I'm at Bongo Java now, blogging and drinking coffee) almost every Sunday morning for as long as I can remember.  He tried bacon, bagels and hash browns for the first time at Bongo Java (and liked them all).  J.P.'s been befriended by so many employees, too many to mention them all, but people like . . . Chad, Megan, Chuck, Jackson, Mitch, Rachel, Sara and Sarah, Ryan, E.J., Adam, Taylor.  Most of them are gone, but not forgotten.

The really cool thing is that J.P. and Bongo Java share the same birthday.  Coincidence, I think not.  In fact, the same day J.P. turned 5, Bongo Java turned 20!  When we came down for breakfast yesterday, we met, for the first time in all these years, Bob Bernstein, the owner.  He was here with his two sons (a little older than mine) handing out 20th birthday posters and coffee mugs.  I introduced myself and told him how much Bongo Java meant to me, and to my sons.  It was a nice moment, one to remember.

Without question, the hit of the day for J.P., as far as birthday presents go, was the Nashville Predators' hockey helmet/mask.  J.P actually wore it inside Bongo Java to show everyone.  On the way home from baseball practice that afternoon, he was sitting in the back of my SUV, riding in silence.  When I asked him what he was thinking about, as he looked out the window, his chin in his hand, he said, "my hockey mask."  I chuckled a little and left him to his thoughts.

I hope it's always that easy to make J.P. happy.

J.P. is so many things.  Whip smart.  Talkative.  Curious and inquisitive.  Funny.  Emotional and quick tempered, at times (like his old man).  Loving and caring (especially to his little brother).  Friendly.  Intense.  Talented.  Photogenic (like his mother).  Cute.  Stubborn, at times (like his old man and his mother).  Contemplative.  Thoughtful.  Kind.

J.P. loves so many things.  Music.  Sports.  Family.  Reading.  School.  Legos.  Playing outside.  Cleaning (or pretending to clean).  Gardening.  Raking leaves.  Laughing.  Singing.  Milk.  The Nashville Predators.  Doughnut holes.  Uncle Carley and Jonny Love.  Las paletas popsicles.  Cheese quesadillas.  Waffles.  Belmont and Vanderbilt basketball.  The Creation Gardens truck.  Construction equipment.

Everywhere I go in our neighborhood, I see ghosts.  Ghosts of J.P. and I walking, talking, playing or just hanging out together.  When I go for a run, I see myself walking with him sleeping in my stroller.  When I stop in Bongo Java for a cup of coffee, I see us there together.

When I walk across Belmont's campus, I see us playing on the soccer field that is no longer there.  I see him learning to walk on the soccer field, stumbling and falling in the soft grass, then getting up and trying again.  I see him talking to Belmont students sitting in the grass as the sun sets, playing guitar.  I see us playing soccer together.  When I to inside the student center at Belmont, I see us everywhere, pretending to be students, pretending to be going to the doctor and pretending to take final exams.

On and on it goes.  Life.  The years drift by, one stacked on top of the other, and my son grows up.  And I love every minute of it.

9 Months in and 9 Months Out

(I found this in draft form tonight.  For some reason, I never posted it.  I originally wrote this post on November 20, 2012).

Today, Joey is 9 months old.  Tonight, I laughed as I said to Jude, "9 months inside and 9 months outside."  It's hard to believe 9 months has passed by so quickly.

In some ways, the first 9 months with Joey have been easier than the first 9 months with J.P.  Mostly, we don't sweat the small stuff as much with Joey as we did with J.P.  I don't worry about Joey as much as I did J.P. in the early days.  There's a little of a "been there, done that" feeling that helps us not to obsess as much about the little things.

In other ways, though, the first 9 months with Joey have been harder than the first 9 months with J.P.  In general, the leap from one child to two children has been a lot more difficult that I thought it would be, mostly because there never seems to be enough time in the day - with two children - to get accomplished what I need to accomplish.  It seems like there is much less down time - less time to squeeze in a run or a beer with friends.  Less time for Jude and me to go to a movie or to dinner.  It's all hands on deck the majority of the time, with Jude handling one child and me handling the other.  I'm not complaining, mind you, it's just more time intensive with two, as opposed to one child.

Joey is one happy baby, which is a blessing.  He is just a happy baby, which was the case with J.P., too.  He smiles all the time.  By all the time, I mean literally, all the time.  And that makes me smile.

Morning Joe

In late winter and early spring, we get the best light in the morning, in our bedroom upstairs.  Some of my favorite photos J.P. I took of him, in our bed, in the morning this time of year.  One morning recently, when Joe woke up, I took some shots of him, too.  I think they turned out pretty great.

I've said this before, but I'm lucky my guys are photogenic, like their mother.

Missed

I've had a good time with my friends on our annual spring trip to Vegas, but I can't wait to get home tonight.  I can't wait to hug Jude, J.P. and Joe, and to get back into our daily routine.

I can't compehend how hard it must be for parents who travel a great deal for work or for soldiers stationed overseas to be away from their families for extended periods of time.  After 4 days away from my family, I miss them terribly. 

Talking to J.P. on the telephone while I've been gone has been tough, actually, because it makes me long to be there with him.  To hear him say he's counting (literally) how many days it is until I get home tugs at my heartstrings. 

My boys are at such great ages right now.  J.P. turns 5 later this week.  Joe turned 1 last month. 

J.P. - the past 3-6 months - has really started following (and watching) sports.  Belmont and Vanderbilt basketball, the Lakers and, of course, the Nashville Predators (his favorite).  He insists on giving blow-by-blow descriptions of the action during televised Predators' games if Jude or I aren't in the room with him, watching the game.  He's on the edge of his seat the entire time (I wonder who he gets that from).

Joe is learning new things every single day.  New noises, bits or words, etc.  When I get home from work, he says, "da da," which melts my heart (and reminds me of J.P. at that age).  He's so close to walking on his own for good.  Right now, he pulls himself up and takes a few tottering, "drunken sailor" steps before sitting down in the floor with a thud.

So many good times lie ahead for our family.  Life goes so fast.  Sometimes it takes a trip like this and being away for a few days to remind me to slow down and really, really appreciate how blessed I am to have the family I have.  God is good indeed. 

 

Vegas

I'm in Vegas, on my annual "partners' retreat" with Mark, Chas and various friends.  This is our 11th year to make the spring trip, almost always on the weekend that the NCAA basketball tournament begins.  It's a good time for us to get away, hang out together and, really, bond with each other (although that sounds a little silly).

There are many, many reasons I love Vegas.  You can wear what you want (literally anything) and nobody gives you a second glance.  It's the best place in the world to people watch.  You can stay up as late as you want or go to bed as early as you want, and it doesn't matter.  The sports books - I love the sports books.  Every single night you can eat at an amazing restaurant, if you want to.  People here, by and large, are happy and glad to be here.  Every morning when I'm here, I go for a run.  Over the years, I've established several 3, 4 and 5 mile routes.  There's nothing like getting a run in, then having a beer (or ten).  My all time favorite sushi restaurant is here.  And there's gambling, lots of gambling.  Black jack and craps (Chas can play craps forever).

My first trip here was with Jude for Valentine's Day, years and years ago.  We walked around like the tourists that we were, checking out the casinos and, really, must people watching.  It was cool.  Later, Chas and I brought Mark out for  his first trip, which was cool.  In the year since our first trip, Jude and I have been to Vegas every fall with the Foodbrothers for our annual "Summitt."  It's become my home away from home, which is sort of bizarre, when I think about it.  Still, there's no other place I travel to twice a year, every year.

I have so many memories of Vegas.  Mostly good.  Some wins at the tables or in the sports book and some bad beats.  Lots and lots of time spent with Jude, my law partners and assorted friends.  Some late nights and some early nights.  I've stayed at almost every hotel/resort here, although the Wynn is my favorite (and Jude's).  I've had some great runs and some great times.  I've  had some great meals and some great nights out with friends.  It's Vegas.  

Joe's 1st Birthday

It's late and I'm listening to Neil Young's Live at Massey Hall 1971 while I try to figure out where the last year has gone.

One year ago this afternoon, Jude and I welcomed into the world our second son, Joseph Dylan Newman.  For the first few hours after Joe was born, I held him in the recovery room while Jude slept nearby.  I was more than a little worried (although the nurses told me not to be), as his breathing was a a bit raspy.  As he slept in my arms, I sang quietly to Joe, over and over, the same lines from Elizabeth Mitchell's "So Glad You're Here."  To this day, when I hear that song, I immediately recall that long, late afternoon in the recovery room.

It seems like yesterday and, yet, it seems like a lifetime ago.

Our first night home from the hospital, Joe woke up in the middle of night, crying.  J.P. had a stomach virus of some sort and vomited 2 or 3 times.  As we walked around the next morning, strung out from a lack of sleep, Jude and I agreed we just had to make it through the first year.

Well, we made it through the first year.

There was joy and laughter and, yes, there was worry and concern.  There was sickness, as Joe was diagnosed with RSV at 5 or 6 months of age.  We spent several sleepless nights taking turns staying up with him as he struggled to breathe normally.  There were ear infections, too, something J.P. never had to deal with.  There were a lot of nights when I slept downstairs and, after Jude brought him down halfway through the night, I strolled Joe up and down the hall/into the dining room in the "City Elite" stroller until he fell back asleep.

There was a lot of learning.  There also was a lot remembering, as we experiences we had with Joe brought to mind memories of J.P.'s first year.  There was the beginning and end of breastfeeding.  There was the beginning and end (almost) of formula.  There was the beginning of solid food and whole milk.

There was the army crawl and now, there is the all fours crawl, as Joe became mobile more quickly than J.P. did.  There was standing and there is almost, and I mean almost walking.  It's coming any day now.

There were trips to Florida and Huntsville, although I've erased the return trip from my mind.

There were many, many miles strolled and hours spent together, as Joe and I put the Baby Jogger "City Elite" stroller to good use.  In the summer and fall, there were late night walks to Bongo Java.  We became semi-regulars at Cha Chah (now defunct), where I'd roll Joe up to the bar and while he slept, drink a glass of wine and read on my Kindle.  There were Saturday afternoon strolls to Mafiozza, where I had a beer or two and talked to my favorite bartender, Doc, as Joe slept in the stroller.  There were 3 mile walks through the neighborhood just to get some exercise.  There were many walks across Belmont University's campus and through the buildings.  There also were many Saturdays and Sundays this winter spent at the Green Hills Mall, strolling while Joe slept.

There was a big brother - J.P. - how loved his little brother each and every day, in so many ways.

Most of all, there was love and laughter, as we watched our happy, good natured baby boy grow from an infant to a 1 year old.  And there were miracles, almost every day.

Happy Birthday, Joe.  I love you.

Rumours 2.0

You can go home again.

This afternoon, I took a deposition downtown (and when I say I killed, I mean I took no prisoners) and finished a few minutes before 5 p.m.  After I spoke to my client for a few minutes, I drove over to the Gulch to visit some old friends and, maybe, make a few new ones.

Rumours Wine Bar, one of my all time favorite watering holes, reopened earlier this week at its new location on Division Street.  I had many, many glasses of wine at Rumour's original location in 12South, near our house.  Thanks to urban slumlord and purveyor of urban blight, Jimmy Granbery, the original Rumours closed a little more than a year ago when his company bought the property on which it was located to build a hideous multi-unit condominium complex (but that's another story).

And damn, I've missed Rumours.  I've missed sharing a glass of wine with my friends, Hal Humphreys (the Mayor of 12South) and Kim Green.  I've missed sitting outside on the patio, sipping from my wine glass, as cars drive by on 12th Avenue.  I've missed stopping in with J.P. just to say hi to everyone.  I've missed seeing Jenn McCarthy and Christy Shuff, the proprietresses (is that even a word?).  Most of all, I've missed that feeling of being in a neighborhood bar.  My neighborhood bar.

Tonight, when I walked in, I was greeted by familiar faces behind the bar and on the floor.  Later I learned that all of the staff had re-joined Jenn and Christy at Rumours' new location, after scattering like leaves for a year.  That alone is a testament to the fact that Rumours is something special, something more than a bar or restaurant.

I sat down at the bar and the bartender (and a new friend), Caleb, poured me a glass of Hudson Baby Bourbon Whiskey.  As I sipped my whiskey and looked around, I felt really, really happy.  Like I had come home to find my house had been renovated.  But it was still my house.  It sounds strange and I can't quite put into words what I mean, but it "felt" like the old Rumours.  Sure, things look different and the drink menu has expanded beyond wine (including liquor and beer) but I felt like I had come home again.

Within a few minutes, Jenn McCarthy arrived and after a hug, we talked at the bar for a few minutes.  Just like old times.  She was beaming with pride, as she talked about the new location and pointed out a few artifacts from the old location.  And I was proud of her (and Christy).  I am amazed that these two ladies - who had the business they had built taken away from them by a greedy developer - persevered and found a way to keep Rumours alive for the past year until they were able to open in a new location.

For me, it goes back to how I felt the night the original Rumours closed.  Rumours is something special.  It's more than a bar or restaurant.  It's not something you can touch, necessarily, but it is something you can feel.  It's a combination of memories, shared conversations with friends and moments of quiet contemplation alone with a glass of wine.  It's familiarity, comfort and a safe haven from the real world and all the craziness that awaits just outside the door.

Jenn McCarthy and Christy Shuff are the creators, protectors and keepers of all of that.  By some minor miracle (and I can't begin to understand it), they managed to save Rumours even as the original building that housed it was being demolished and keep it alive when there was no place it could call home.  Then, against all odds, they built a new home for Rumours.

I felt all of that as I sat at the bar today, sipping my whiskey, smiling.  Happy.  Home.