Visitors

Earlier this month we had visitors - all the way from Rome! Meet Pamela and her daughter Eva. Pam and I went to college together in Santa Barbara, and shared an apartment in Astoria together. Pam's bedroom in Astoria had a balcony that we nick-named "The Hamptons" and we sat out there and tried to ignore all the stray cats when we wanted to feel decadent and old money and to be able to tell our coworkers that we too had spent the weekend in the The Hamptons.

Astoria in 2003: boasted the largest concentration of Greek people outside of Athens. It was a fairly safe family neighborhood. But one night we came home and someone had obviously tried to to beat down our door. It was late at night and instead of the fixing the locks, our Greek landlord sent her cousins over to sleep on our couch, so we would feel safe.

And now we have children. Here they are, sharing a meal together, while Pam entertains them with a spirited reading of "Little Puppy."

And tail-gating in Thunder McQueen in a parking garage, the day we went to Chuck E. Cheese. That was our most American activity. We also took Pam and Eva on the R train, the Staten Island Ferry, and to Chipotle.

Here we are in Queens, the four of us, and Fred.

One night Francie drove in from Long Island for a slumber party. It was a lot different from our college slumber parties. We put the kids to sleep around 8 and Pam fell asleep on the couch around 10 (which I guess is pretty rock star if you translate to Italian time), and Francie and I barely made it to midnight. Here we are, the morning after the raging slumber party:

Pam, Francie and Elise are my closest college friends, and by the end of this year, we will all have children. It's so fun to see my friends' personalities and quirks reflected in their little ones. Eva is extremely cautious around strangers. She watched me and Roan very closely, and it took a few days for her to warm up to us. But once you are accepted into her comfort zone she doesn't easily forget you. I think that, to a much less obvious degree, this could describe Pam's way of interacting with the world.

By contrast, Roan has a more easy come easy go approach to people. They don't seem to matter as much to him as they do to Eva.

Alas, I can feel this post taking a philosophical turn. Ladies, is it time for an electronic couch session?

Naming

Dear Fred,

Many people have asked, "are you really naming the baby Fred?" And the answer is no, we are not. Fred is your in utero name, just like Squid was your brother's in utero name. We have to call you something while you're in there.

But we are having a very hard time naming you.

Recently Daddy and I went out to dinner, and between the jokes of "Orion Lyons" and "Harry Lyons" I think we may have finally found your name.

We aren't telling anyone what it is. Naming you feels like a delicate operation, and if anyone poo-pooed the name it might send us into a fit of self doubt.

It's happened before.

Here are all the names we thought, at one point, we would name you, but have been rejected:

Quinn

Grey

Clive

Benjamin

Liam

Aidan

Oliver

Phineas (Finn)

Maybe when you are older you will read this, and feel that a great name was almost yours, just slipped through your fingers. Or maybe you will feel that you dodged a chamber full of bullets, that all these names are horrid. Hopefully you will feel that your name suits you, fits comfortably. At various times, I was supposed to be named Kyle or Tamara. These names seem absurd to me. How could my parents have considered anything other than Cameron?

Fred, we are getting very excited to meet you, and give you your real name.

Birthday Wish

Roan had a birthday part at Chai Tots, and his teachers asked me to write something they could sing or read to him, describing Roan at age 1 and 2, and what we wished for him at 3. Here's what I wrote:

"Roan was born on November 4, 2008 - the same day our country elected our first black president. It was a day of hope and change and magic.

At 1, Roan was walking and just learning to run. His favorite foods were banana and blueberry smoothies. He loved to read books over and over and again.

At 2, Roan loved to ride his pushbike. He rode it all over the neighborhood, so fast that Mommy had to run to keep up with him! He was so good at puzzles that we nicknamed him Puzzle Man. His favorite toys were his trains and he loved to build tracks for them.

Now Roan is 3. He still loves trains and puzzles, and love to make silly rhymes. He is a gentle soul, but also very loud and talkative. I hope he continues to deepen the friendships he's formed and learn how good it feels to be kind to others."

Here are some more photos from his school party:

Birthday Bonfire

For Roan's 3rd birthday we had a bonfire in our backyard. I have no love for baking, and roasting marshmellows for s'mores seemed like the best way to get our guests to make their own dessert. I gave everyone fair warning, stating in the invitations that there would be an open flame and we'd be giving beer to the parents and sharp sticks to the kids. Incredibly, everyone still came.

Here's the scene: We strung lights and fired up the pit, and on the far left you can make out Grandpa Lyons, hunched over the s'more ingredients. He was extremely protective of the chocolate, as one pregnant mother complained, and would not allow for extra portions, even for those who were "eating for two." He neatly laid out the graham crackers under the chocolate squares, so when kids approached with their skewered marshmellows burned to a blackened crisp, he quickly assembled their s'mores, confiscated their sharp sticks, and sent them on their way.

Birthday guests sitting around the fire, in various stages of s'more preparation and consumption, or just keeping warm.

Here is Roan roasting a marshmellow. He consumed at least three s'mores that evening - possibly more. In the background you can see Grandma Lyons eating a s'more - her first ever! I only learned this later, and had I known, I would have given her an expertly browned marshmellow, and not one that Grandpa Lyons burned to a crisp for her.

Eventually the kids lost interest in the fire and the s'mores, and started chasing each other around the yard. This is generally what kids do after they eat.

And this is what adults do.

The party was a blast, but hosting so many people is hard on everyone, even Roan. For the first 20 minutes he sat on his Daddy's lap, clutching Gordon and his coal car tight in his fist, miserably watching his friends play with his trains. He got over it, and cheered up considerably when everyone trooped upstairs to eat pizza. By the time Jay lit the fire he was ecstatic.

Since the party we have been slowly opening gifts, one each day or so, so Roan has a chance to play with and appreciate each new thing. Thanks to all our family and friends who made Roan's 3rd birthday feel so special!

Halloween

This year, just like last year, we were trains. Roan was a Thomas-ish train, I was a red caboose, and Jay was Sir Topham Hatt. You probably can't tell, but Jay has a pillow under his coat, in an attempt to look fat. You also cannot tell I am 8 months pregnant, which makes this cardboard red caboose the most flattering thing I own.

Here we are, all the trains, minus Sir Topham Hatt, and plus Eli, who was a chef.

In this photo you can see Roan's small purple felt Halloween candy holder. It wasn't ideal for trick-or-treating, because of the wide top, which caused all of his candy to fall out when he ran. He didn't notice, and when we told him, he said, "I will puff more carefully," but would inevitably break into a run.

This was one reason why we went home with so little candy. Roan's total take was 2 mini twix, 1 snickers, and 2 lousy peppermints. The other reason was that Roan missed the point of trick-or-treating. He would walk up the stoop with his friends, say trick-or-treat just like everyone else, but when someone offered to put candy in his bag he would say, "no thank you, I already have some," and dutifully march back down the stairs.