the sticking point

Kid in a Lid

Last week, a high school friend of my wife's stopped by to check out young H. She brought him a cool hat. It fits, and the boy wears it proudly.

Disclaimer: In the last three weeks we've been gifted with several great odd and interesting things. Notably, Brian Last Stop's Pee Pee Teepees, SOC's Ramones logo t-shirt, Aunt L & Uncle M's camouflage pants, and a prototype "Blue State Baby" onesie that Rolyn made. I've taken photos of all, for the purpose of posting here, but laziness, holidays, and sleep dep have prevented me from doing so. My bad.

Listening: "Damaged I" by Black Flag, from Damaged

Christmas Morn at Sticking Point

The good news: This was a gift from S. & H.
The bad news: It's balky; I've got to return it to the Apple Store on Monday and demand a replacement.

On iTunes right now: Rock And Roll Bullshit from the album “20 Years Of Dischord (Disc 1)” by Government Issue

[posted with ecto]

That sucky feeling, deep down inside.

Earlier this afternoon, I went to the New York Yankees Clubhouse Store on 42nd to get a Christmas gift for my one and only nephew. The kid is a diehard Yankees fan (like me, but times ten) and a great baseball player (like me, but times 30).

Of course, the first thing I pick out in the NYYCS is something for my son. It's an authentic, official Alex Rodriguez jersey. White, midnight blue pinstripes, interlocking NY on the chest. Number 13 on the back. (H was born on the 13th! Great.) Made in Korea. (So was H! Great.) Size 12 months. (Which he'll be fitting in by around Opening Day-ish! Great again.)

I continued shopping. Passed on the Yankees-logo 8-ounce baby bottle; too kitschy. Grabbed a pair of Yankees-logo baby socks. I found a good-looking Nike-brand Yankees shirt and flop-eared Yankees ski hat for the nephew, and went to the checkout.

"That'll be a hundred and forty-two, seventeen."

Whoa. I actually did a double-take to go with my Ralph Kramden stammer: "Howmuh, howmuh, how much is the jersey for the baby?!"

It is, she said, $52.00.

Oh, man. Various computations dripped down my mind's eye like the ones and zeros in the Matrix: Fifty-two dollars is a lot of money. This shirt will fit him for approximately 9 weeks. During that time, he will never even realize he's wearing a cool jersey with Arod's uni number (and his own birthdate) on it. In the 9-week window that said shirt will fit, he is sure to wear it fewer than 5 times. In those 5 times he wears it, he will get so much drool and dried milk and mashed peach baby food on it, it will look like a David Wells jersey. And also, 52 dollars is a lot of money.

All of that info swam through my synapses at top speed. Then I heard myself tell the girl behind the counter, "I think I'll put back the baby jersey."

It was the wise thing to do. But now I feel like a cheap bastard, some poor excuse of a father, niggling over money and begrudging his first-born son the pleasure of that first Yankees jersey. Please, no one tell H how close he came to a great Xmas present, but his dad was too cost-conscious.

Listening: "Noise Noise Noise" by The Damned.

UPDATE! This is it -- and it's cheaper. Now, Cheap Daddy can go web-hunting for a reasonable price. (Like $29.99.)

God bless the clueless.

So this just happened: The woman who casts, well, castmembers for a variety of our channel's TV series has been holding casting sessions for the last two days. She's interviewed dozens of attractive (that is, "TV attractive") girls and young women, and then asked them to strip down to bathing suits.

Moments ago, her assistant scrambled into her office to announce, "I just figured out why there's a problem with the audio. We haven't been using a mic!"

Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, thank you for letting this little scene play out before my very own eyes and ears. It's a Christmas miracle, as they say on CBS specials. Even better than finding out that the kid on crutches will live.

But wait. It gets better.

I myself scrambled into her office across the hall, as they wondered what to do now. Now that 16 hours of audition/interviews are useless. (My gleeful recommendation to hire someone to voice over the tapes was ignored.) I told the casting woman that I couldn't wait to go down the hall to tell G., who already considers teasing the casting woman his favorite pastime.

Her response, "Tommy, no! That would be food for fodder!"

Yes. Food for fodder.

I am so glad I woke up this morning.

Listening: "Suicide" by The Damned.

Detroit Cobras in Brooklyn

The amazing goddamn Detroit Cobras are playing at Southpaw on January 22. I can't guarantee I'll be there, but you ought to be. Mrs. Sticking Point and I caught them last summer at Bowery Ballroom and they were damn good. Rachel's pipes were on fire that night, and the band was tight, but their set suffered from insecurity and a bad attitude. Rachel's between song chatter consisted entirely of telling the audience how bad the band was playing, and "here's another one that we can screw up." And then they'd hit the next one out of the park.

She was either nervously trying to lower audience expectations (DC were the middle act of three) or just in a pissy mood. Either way, it got annoying.

On January 22, they'll headline a smaller venue. This is a great bar band with a couple dozen hot songs and the potential to be a legendary live act.

Listening: "Ffun" by Con Funk Shun from Secrets.

The Siren

My lovely and talented wife, S., shares some words on baby H.:

He is starting to sit up. He makes a crazy face when he gets that first bite of peach in his mouth. His cry sounds like a baby kitten. Unless he's really going at it, and then it sounds like bloody murder. Tommy calls him "The Siren." He still ignores the dog for the most part. He zones out completely in his stroller. He loves going outdoors for fresh air, and hates being warm. He gets his left arm stuck in his sleeper pajamas, so that when I go in to pick him up, he's just rolling over and over. He is fixated with the red-haired baby on the Pampers Wipes box--he looks at him and smiles as if to say "''Sup?". His nails grow at an alarmingly fast rate. Teeth are just dying to burst through his gums. He could fill a pool with the amount of drool that comes out of his mouth. He is starting to understand what "naptime" means. He is sleeping in longer chunks throughout the night. When he watches someone chewing food, he opens and closes his mouth as if to mock them. He loves to pull my hair, and pretend he doesn't understand when I say, LET GO! THAT'S MOMMY'S HAIR AND YOU ARE HURTING ME. He is largely disinterested in other babies, except, of course, the Pampers baby. In addition to "dadadadadada" he has now added "gagagagaga" and "googoogoogoogoo" to his repetoire. He rubs his eyes when he's sleepy. He is the only baby I know who actually enjoys getting his hands and face wiped with a washcloth. He prefers to watch NY1 news in the morning over Sesame Street. He is taking one for the team next weekend by wearing all his Baby's First Christmas garb, and then putting it away forever and ever. He is looking forward to watching Pedro Martinez make an ass out of himself next season. He hates Desperate Housewives and wonders what Nicolette Sheridan did to herself. He indulges mommy's need to hold him close and smother him with kisses countless times a day. He is working on a list of New Year's Resolutions, soon to be posted.

Reality TV

It's my first day back at work after 25 consecutive days off. I haven't spent this much time away from H since he joined our family, and I thought I would appreciate the 9 or 10 hours "off-cycle" (the sleep-eat-play-diaper change-sleep cycle). I appreciate it like a kick in the jomblies.

From the moment I walked out of the house this morning it all felt wrong. You know that feeling that you're forgetting something? It was that...times ten. It felt like I was leaving everything behind. I'd kissed my wife on the lips, kissed my son on the head, and stepped away into some surreal "TV dad" world, as the dad who goes off to win bread.

This sucks. I am already quite the homebody, and now with a family at home I never want to leave.

Listening: "Talk To Me" by A.P.B., from the Shoot You Down single.

Grandma Downer

My mom and dad visited again today. When they come these days, they are so grandma and grandpa, because they are little interested in seeing or talking to anyone but the baby. Except for those moments when my mom is passing along some of her motherly advice. This usually comes in the form of a STERN WARNING against something we are doing, or imploring us to do something we are not. In every case, the child's very life hangs in the balance. Pushing his carriage along the windy streets of Brooklyn Heights, H is seconds away from a gust of wind blowing into his face and taking his breath away. Literally.

There's a recurring SNL sketch featuring Rachel Dratch as a character named Debbie Downer, who can turn any friendly conversation into a dead-end of negative anecdotal information. Someone mentions a cat, and Debbie brings up the prevalence of feline panleukopenia. (Well, not exactly that, but you get the idea.)

I was curious to see if my mom could possible be a Debbie, or “Grandma Downer,” so I gave her the following short quiz. To each question, my mom answered “C.”

Looking out the nursery window at the street below provides your baby with…
a) the opportunity to see new faces.
b) a wider variety of visual stimuli.
c) the chance to wriggle out of your grasp, crash through the glass, and plummet to the sidewalk below. To his death.

As your baby sleeps soundly in his crib…
a) he is recharging his body, so he may awaken fully coherent.
b) his brain is processing all that he has seen and heard all day, so he may learn from his experiences.
c) he is in danger of suffocation upon his crib sheet. Or his sleeve. Or his own tongue.

Walking around the neighborhood on a lovely day…
a) your baby will enjoy seeing new things and meeting new people.
b) you and your baby will be relieved at not being confined to a crowded apartment.
c) you are risking him catching cholera.

When waking baby up from a nap…
a) speak gently to him until he is aware of his surroundings.
b) allow soft sunshine to enter his room.
c) check him for cholera.

Every baby enjoys being tossed into the air, but…
a) do so gently.
b) be prepared to do this until your arms are sore.
c) some babies lose their breath in midair and choke. To death.

 

On iTunes right now: Ex-Lion Tamer from the album “Drive By Shooting” by Collins, Henrietta

[posted with ecto]

Continuing Coverage

Brian Last Stop spent some time with us on Sunday night. Read his (kind) report here.

[posted with ecto]

H's Disk

Toward the end of November, I began compiling a CD for my son. I'm not a big fan of so-called “children's music,” and I don't believe he should be either. The wheels on the bus can go right to hell for all we care.

There must be plenty of songs that appeal to a baby's simple needs while still challenging his mind. Hopefully, they'll also help nurture an impeccable taste in music.

(I'll admit that I said “Hey, H____” and pointed to the ceiling when Trane's “My Favorite Things” came on in Starbucks in Seoul.)

I like the Dan Zanes stuff a lot, especially House Party, but that's still music for kids. (Albeit great grown-up music for kids.) I wanted to share music I like, that I think the boy can dig, too. So, I compiled this disk gradually for several weeks until burning it the other day. I think it's pretty solid. No one's very favorite songs are on here, but the way H smiles and moves when it's playing, and the way he seems to enjoy my dancing and singing along, make it a nursery room hit. It's Now That's What I Call Music for a five-month-old. (Six months Monday!)

H.'s First Disk From Daddy

01. We Walk - R.E.M. A great track from Murmur. Pure Pop for Now Babies. Comes complete with a bouncy rhythm and an Itsy Bitsy Spider feel.
02. Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm - Crash Test Dummies. While in Korea, I discovered that H was soothed whenever I sang this. When he'd start peeling paint with his “this goes to eleven” shrieks, I could curtail the sonic jihad with a couple verses of this piece of Canadian nonsense. I think it has something to do with the deep baritone he felt in my chest. (Full disclosure: When I started burning the disk, I confessed to my wife that this was, “You know... not such a bad song.”)
03. You You You You You - The 6ths. This gorgeous song (from the Pieces of April soundtrack) works even better in the context of a parent and long-awaited child than its intended boyfriend-girlfriend lyric.
04. Unreleased Backgrounds - The Beach Boys. Lush harmonies like these are Similac for my baby's musical appreciation. (This track is less than a minute long, but proves that no matter how thoroughly multi-tracked Pet Sounds is, the harmonies were pure.)
05. Shake, Rattle & Roll - Joe Turner. If there's a 5-month old anywhere who should be listening to the shouting, boogie-woogie blues of Big Joe Turner...it's my 5-MO.
06. Fuzzy - The Incredible Moses Leroy. Fun.
07. Country Mike's Theme - The Beastie Boys. Fun and fast.
08. Waitress in the Sky - The Replacements. I can remember singing this to my son during a 2 AM wake up cry in Seoul. (Added irony: before he'd even met his grandparents, he spent 14+ hours on airplanes, some of it in the arms of the flight attendants.)
09. 7-11 - The Ramones. A few weeks ago, I bought this shirt (the striped one) for H. In Seoul, I'd walk around the room, holding him and singing “Suzy is a Headbanger,” “I Wanna Be Sedated,” and this one. I know it gets pretty bleak, especially when the “oncoming car went out of control” and kills the girl in the song, but I'm a sucker for the bop-shoo-wop chorus and the Beach Boys name-check. Besides, when it comes to music for children's ears, nothing is worse than “...and down will come baby, cradle and all.”
10. Something's Got To Give - The Beastie Boys. This is a good little groove to change a diaper to.
11. Henry Lee - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. I guess this one's pretty bleak, as well. Let's not show H a lyric sheet.
12. Country Leaver - The Dandy Warhols. Begins with a rooster's crow and sounds just silly enough to entertain a baby.
13. Salute My Shorts! - Rilo Kiley. A single acoustic guitar and lone, plaintive vocal; easy to sing along. Lyrics include Baby's First F Word (tm): “We've been waiting all year / For someone to say / Everyone fucks up / It's gonna be OK.”
14. Jimmy Jazz - The Clash. Finger snaps? Got 'em. Whistling? Check. Ambling, drunken rhythm and vocal style? You betcha. This song came on yesterday morning, and I carried H into his nursery from our bedroom saying, “Come on, let's go hear your first Clash song.” It is precisely behavior like this that will earn me a lifetime of watching my son roll his eyes at his dorky, old-fart father.
15. Lookin' Out My Back Door - Creedence Clearwater Revival. A giant does cartwheels. A statue wears high heels. Tambourines and elephants are playing in the band. Please tell me Fogerty wrote this for kids. Mine, in particular, likes that cool time change before the last verse.
16. Jambalaya (On The Bayou) - Hank Williams. I knew there had to be a Hank song on here and narrowed it down to a handful that would work for the baby. I selected this one because it was recorded on June 13, 1952 - precisely 52 years prior to the day H was born.
17. Fantasy - Slumber Party. The sound of four female voices harmonizing airy, bouncy pop tunes belongs in every child's daily diet.
18. Happy Hour - Housemartins. Look, I don't know. I was scanning the iTunes library that day, and this seemed like a fun-enough song.
19. Juliette - The Januaries. Debbie Diamond's throaty, yet syrup-sweet voice applied to songs that might have been written by Burt Bacharach. Worthy of H's attention.
20. Yummy, Yummy, Yummy - Ohio Express. I was a year old when this was released, and I listened to it (and my O.E. records) well into my preteens.
21. Will It Ever Stop Raining? - Saw Doctors. The fact that it has rained every day since we've come home is purely coincidental.
22. Little Rhymes - Mercury Rev. This is a good enough song from a fine album. Though it brings the tempo of the disk down a bit, that's probably my fault for wedging it in between this handful of songs.
23. Electricity - Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. I added this a couple nights before leaving for Seoul, thinking the instrumentation sounded “toy-like.”
24. Tommy K - Saw Doctors. Got a fun call-and-response chorus and much room for hand-clapping.
25. Rebel Waltz - The Clash. I've always thought the time signature of a waltz is great fun. And if it's a Clash waltz? Well....
26. (Are You) The One That I've Been Waiting For? - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. “There's a man who spoke wonders though I've never met him / He said, 'He who seeks finds and who knocks will be let in' /  I think of you in motion and just how close you are getting / And how every little thing anticipates you / All down my veins my heart-strings call / Are you the one that I've been waiting for?”

[posted with ecto]