A Raspy Marta

So Marta is a little sick (haige haige). I think we over did it on New Years'. We were all feeling lethargic and old and clan-like and were seriously doubting our plan to go down to the Hoboken waterfront and watch foreworks with all the other schnooks and crooks in this Mozzerell' loving town, Marta included.

We were going to give in and be lazy and dull but we dragged out butts down there. It was kind of cold, and there were Germans taking photos of each other in a big crowd on the peer. Germans are ok people. I really think that the music of Kraftwerk has redeemed the nation for that whole WWII thing.

Anyway I have a feeling it was then and there in the codl watching 2005 fade away that Marta git the sniffles. We then walked back through Hoboken where totally crazy individuals were launching fireworks into the air. Epp was kind of transfixed by these scene. She wanted to walk near the artillery unit, but I was a little skittish about the scenario. I, never having seen something like this, immediately wondered if it was a "Jersey" thing.

Washington Street was totally empty and smoky, and then we walked onto Bloomfield shere the street was filled with what can be best described as the "butts" of all the firecrackers they had launched. The streets were filled with good looking and happy people toasting the air, most a bit sloshed. And there were babies there too, like Marta. It was one of those moments that made me happy to have experienced a New Years in Hoboken.

The next day marta was snotty and then she was warm. I recall coming in the house and feeling her head and it was warm. She also looked a bit delerious. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Yes..." she responded. God, I can't remember the last time I said "yes." As Epp can attest, I'm more of a "yeah" kind of guy. In fact, I pronounce all 'O's with a a bit of an 'ä' - Blahg (blog), Arnge (orange), etc. And here's my daughter speaking to me in perfect English. It was a weird feeling. Where did she learn that word?

Now Marta has a raspy voice from being sick. It's funny to hear her say all of her common phrases (she starts and ends sentences with verbs in Estonian - like "tahad vanni - vanni tahad" or literally "you want a bath, a bath you want" - she hasn't gotten her tenses right just yet) in this raspy older sounding voice. I wonder, is this really my child?

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Today I related my story of the trip to the Children's Museum last week to my colleague Ed at work. Ed is 36 and unmarried with no descendents. He looked at me with a superior raised eyebrow as I told of the screaming children running everywhere in the museum and how I regretted fatherhood (or possibly being alive?) for a few moments in there. Ed looks at me and says dryly "What did you think parenthood was going to be like? There's a reason why I am 36-years-old and don't have children." Thanks Ed.

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Sometimes I feel like we are depriving Marta by not having a similarly aged related playmate around her to keep her company. At the same time I like that it's just us altogether. I feel bad for kids from huge families that are wedged in between siblings all the time fighting for the attention they need. One thing I have learned is that attention is really important. Marta does bad stuff sometimes (like trying to eat chalk) but all you have to do is refocus her energies and she responds. I wonder how many bad kids there are out there that are just bad because they didn't have their "energies refocused."

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Name, name, know your name. Oh yeah, while I was reporting my tale to Ed we started doing imitations of annoying mothers scolding their children and used the ridiculous names that some kids have these days. I will try REALLY hard not to offend anybody who reads this, but when did two of America's lousiest presidents wind up carrying away with so many names? According to the White House, John Tyler, the 10th president, was called "his accidency" because he was the first VP to assume office after the death of a president. He tried to broker a compromise when the Civil War took off, but died 1862, a member of the Confederate House of Representatives. The parents of children named after Zachary Taylor have it better off. "Old Rough and Ready" died a war hero determined to hold the union together. But still? Zachary Taylor? Why not name your kid after a real president, like Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, or Roosevelt? Well I guess that's why there are so many Madisons. :)

Eh whatever. If we have another daughter we'll probably call her Anna, after the grandmother of Jesus. Or after the Roman goddess of the year, Anna Perenna. Or after Leo Tolstoy's main character (see how easy this is?).

If it's a boy maybe it will be Sam, after Sam Spade, the "I'm in it for me" detective in the Maltese Falcon. Or maybe after my great grandfather. If I had to name him after a president, he'd have to be Van Buren Petrone. I think Epp could agree to that. ;)