To celebrate Jack's birthday (he's two weeks old) we took him to Target.

Actually, we needed a broom and some plastic hangers and some vitamin D drops for Jack, which he took, then promptly vomited out his nostrils.

That was fun.

Jack's diary: Day 13.

The weather was great today, around 80 degrees and sunny. We went to the beach with the hairy one they call Finley. There have been a lot of visitors recently, but he's the one they seem to want to keep around. I'm pretty sure he's not leaving anytime soon.

The grandma they call Katie (Mommy calls her mom, which is kind of confusing, but I'm sure it makes sense to them) left today for a place called 'Feenix.' I was sad to see her go, but I get a feeling I'll be seeing her a lot in the future.

I saw my first lightning bugs today when Mommy and Daddy took me for a walk with Finley, who for some reason is allowed to pee and poop wherever he wants to.

Daddy said something about there not being as many fireflies as there used to be, but I saw a bunch, and they seemed plenty bright to me.

Dinner was milk...again...but there seems to be plenty and it's always close at hand, so why look a gift horse in the mouth?

I napped with Mommy on the couch, then with grandma Katie, then with Daddy. I can feel them watching me when I sleep, but hey, if they have nothing better to do then who am I to judge?

Finley's day at the beach.

Father and son, 40 years apart.

I feel like I can’t live each moment enough - they pass too quickly (unlike the time away from him, which draws out like sludge). I think most people (including myself) have had a fantasy where they have the ability to stop time. And I think most people would likely use it to acquire possessions (whatever they may be). I would watch my son sleep.

His face provides endless fascination. Every tic and shudder and apparent smile, causes a physical response from me…usually I (reflexively) mirror him with amused exaggeration: He frowns a little, I frown a lot, overcome with empathy. He smiles a little and I have to use all my strength to keep from bursting into nearly hysterical laughter.

He has no thoughts of me. He is almost strictly an instinctual creature at this point, controlled exclusively by every immediate impulse. Every stimulus brings forth an instantaneous reaction: he’s cold, he trembles; he eats, he farts; he’s hungry, he cries. It’s a life that’s about as truly Zen as anyone can ever live – he’s “in the moment” at every moment. He has no memory of (or attachment to) the past, and no concept of the future. Everything…EV-REE-THING…requires immediate attention. He lives in the moment not because he’s trained his mind to let go of all attachments; but because for him “the moment” is all that exists.

He’ll outgrow it relatively soon. He’ll develop a sense of the past (and thus the future) when he figures out, for example, that certain noises from him garner certain responses from us, or when he recognizes that lunch is served at a certain time. For right now we live in, as the nurse put it, an “on demand world” centering exclusively on his needs. He will develop and grow and learn that he can put off his hunger for a few minutes and he won’t starve to death so he doesn’t have to scream bloody murder (I’m just saying).

He’ll learn to wait and anticipate. He’ll learn to walk and read and shit in a toilet (though I’m not quite sure in what order…though I’m pretty sure Penny knows).

But right now all that exists is the very second that is…and there aren’t nearly enough of them.

The first full day.

Jacks' first sunrise.

Jack's first night.

Jack's first hour.

Language.

Foul language, foreign language, body language.

"Communication of thoughts and feelings through a system of arbitrary signals, such as voice sounds, gestures, or written symbols."

Whatever the fuck that means.

It's all inadequate; feeble, really, when you think about it. In English we have 26 characters mashed together into combinations that are supposed to represent everything - every object, every distance, every thought - every emotion, sensation, color, sound - every vein of every leaf, every crest of every wave, every sea creature, mammal, alien creature imagined or real. EVERYTHING that ever was, is and will be.

That's a lot to ask from 26 letters. But it's what we have, so it's what we use.

As for what we will teach Jack the one topic that seems to come up most often is swearing. I have to admit I'm torn. As anyone who knows me can imagine, I believe words have massive power (for both good and evil) so they must be wielded with caution and as much precision as possible.

At the same time, I'm not particularly enamored of the parochial and hypocritically pious nature of American society and am just as inclined as anyone (more inclined) to say fuck-all in front of anyone I goddamn well please.

I'm not going to encourage it, but I don't plan on making a big deal out of it the first time Jack says 'shit' in front of grandma or 'fuck' in front of the neighbors. If he's a perceptive kid he'll learn how and when to use it, just like you and me and millions of other verbally responsible adults.

Crossover post.