Family Photo

Here is the result of many many attempts to take a family photo where all family members have their eyes open and are looking in the general direction of the camera. An impossible task made even more challenging by the photographer, Roger Lyons, who must adhere to the photo-journalist style of clicking away spontaneously, never letting on to his subjects exactly when they are being photographed. This annual photo-on-the-couch is a Lyons family tradition, taken as seriously as the eating-the-pointy-end-of-the-pie-last tradition and being a fanatic Spurs fan. You can see that Julia is holding last year's photo in a frame, and in last year's photo she's holding the previous year's photo, and on and on so that if you had a powerful enough magnifying glass you could look back through history and see the very first Lyons, sitting alone on a rock or whatever passed for a sofa back then, hands empty.

We have a lot of Thanksgiving traditions. Everyone has to cook something, even people who aren't good cooks, like me and Roan. In previous years I've tried to dodge this rule by washing dishes, but that came to an end when I broke a really nice dish. I've tried to designate myself as a floater - a sous chef for anyone who finds themselves pressed for time and needs assistance - but no one was eager to let me mess up their dish. I've made the salad, because lets face it, no one eats the salad at Thanksgiving. But this year, with 6 solid months of pureeing baby food under my belt, I found the inspiration and courage to cook something that other people ate.

The kitchen is chaotic on Thanksgiving, like an episode of Iron Chef with everyone dashing around with exotic kitchen equipment wondering where the salt went, or who moved the oil, or where their recipe is. The Robot responded to all the excitement by running endless circles around the center island, and Julia thought he was chasing her, or maybe she was chasing him; either way you can picture the scene: armed adults and manic children rushing around, narrowly avoiding catastrophe. It was fabulous.

In keeping with tradition:

• Jay fell asleep on the couch.

• Andrew gave a speech that made everyone cry.

• Alisha and Roger had a heated debate about Starbucks.

And Roan experienced his first sugar high. He mooched sweets so quickly and from such disparate sources that we had no idea how much he'd eaten until we noticed him sprinting around the kitchen at top speed, literally bouncing off the cabinets.

Here's the whole crew:

Music Box

I have an overwhelming backlog of great photos to post and stories to tell, especially from our Thanksgiving holiday in Texas, but I'll start by sharing this video, shot by my Dad yesterday, when we left him in charge of the Robot.

Music Box from Cameron McClure on Vimeo.

Helmet

In case you were wondering how Ro feels about his helmet...

The Best Season

New York does fall a lot differently than California. It's my favorite season. People sometimes ask me why I moved here and I never have a very good answer. It was a spur of the moment decision. I can't really say why I came, but these leaves are one of reasons why I've stayed.

Lyons Visit

Grandma and Grandpa Lyons came to town to celebrate Roan's birthday. Roan walked them down 7th Avenue and pointed out all his favorite attractions - dogs, leaves, fences (he grabs the slats and shakes them as if he's just been locked in an insane asylum), and drains (he sticks his fingers in all the holes).

Jay very wisely positions himself between Roan and the fence.

Grandma, Jay, and Roan bang a gathering drum at music class.

Roan shows Grandma how to do his dance.

Back at the apartment, three generations of Lyons sniff the marinade to make sure it's just right.

The birthday cobbler approaches.

Birthday

On November 4th Roan turned 1. He weighs 23 1/2 pounds. He has four teeth. He is no longer afraid of the food processor or the blender. He is still afraid of the torre in Murcielago, a pop-up book about bats. He no longer wants me to rock him to sleep, he falls asleep much better alone in his crib. When he wants to play peek-a-boo, he grabs my hands and pushes them on my face. If he wants you to read him a book, he will chase you around the house with it until you do. He doesn't know how to go down stairs, because he can't understand moving in a direction he's not facing. When I show him things, like how to flip a light switch or bang a drum, he doesn't copy me with his own hands; instead, he grabs my hands and makes me flip the light switch, or bang the drum, or pet the dog for him. This makes me worry he is too literal minded, too much like me, and will grow up constantly misinterpreting the simplest things. His favorite foods are hot dogs, pita chips, banana blueberry smoothies, succotash, and sweet potatoes. He dances by moving one arm up and down, like he's in an old Snoop Dogg video. He is just beginning to run.

Here are some photos from his actual birthday (last Wednesday)

First bike (well, technically a trike)

His legs are a bit too short for it, but he doesn't mind

This bike one-ups my fixed gear by having one less gear and no brakes at all. Hard. Core.

Lunch. The usual mess.

The birthday banana bread muffin, with chocolate chips.

We ate it.

November 4th also marked the maiden voyage of the Frankenbike, a bike I bought on Craigslist and transformed into the ultimate Roan carrier. Sadly, no photos mark this historic event, since once I got him into the bike seat I realized that I couldn't let go of the bike (which made putting on my shoes and leaving the apartment somewhat difficult). Roan did not react well to his helmet, but has since warmed up to it. Photos will eventually be shot and posted, once Jay overcomes his Frankenbike issues.

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