That's the kind of year it was...

When I was a kid, this is what I thought 2010 would look like:

As it turns out for our beleaguered world, 2010 kinda ended up like this:

For me, though, 2010 will always be like this:

I love you. Happy and fortunate 2011, my girl.

Daddy.

Eerste Kerstfeest!!

There it is! The very first Christmas present you have ever opened! It is also the first Christmas present you also have ever put directly into your mouth. You would have done this anyway, but since it turned out to be silverware, I would say that it was a very appropriate first gift to have opened.

Christmas is supposed to be a wonderful time and today has definitely been wonderful. It is also supposed to be a time for family to get together and, well...celebrate being together. Because our family is so spread out all over the world, that just wasn't possible for us to do today. However, to help you know a little bit about this time, I will tell you about what I know of the rest of the family's festivities today:

Auntie Shanna and Uncle Christopher: Are freezing their buns off on a Hawaiian beach right now. Brrr! So cold, I'm sure. Their "white Christmas" consists of fine-grained sand and cocktails from the swim-up bar. Since they are a little bit behind us time wise today, we will be Skyping them later (once Uncle Christopher wakes up from his sunburningly delicious nap at low tide.)

Uncle Joep: I don't know what Uncle Joep is doing today. He lives in a stately appartment in a posh London neighborhood, so I assume he is doing something stately and posh. He may, in fact, have braved the European weather and gone to Barcelona (which, for some reason, is where the Dutch seem to think Santa Claus lives...crazy Dutch and their love of the Spanish). Let's say that he has gone to Barcelona and is also getting a suntan whilst enjoying a stately cup of the poshest Spanish eggnog (I don't know if the Spanish do eggnog, but I am going to assume that, if they do, it would be spicy)!

Grandma Kat and Grandpa Brian: Are visiting with GG Marg and GG Keith today. Their white Christmas actually consists of snow which, much to GG Marg's surprise, Grandma Kat has no end of poetic words for. The night before last, we had a chance to speak on the phone and o raise at least one glass of Holiday cheer. I understand that Grandpa Brian had had more than one cup of holiday cheer recently and paid for it by making a holiday call on the big white telephone. Follow that link when you are older and heed its warning.

Grandpa Neil and Grandma Daphne: Are mysteriously silent when telephoned and so, I will make something up. They are swimming with the Dolphins who, as the result of an amazingly well-timed world tour, are visiting south eastern Saskatchewan and are available for pictures with the kids (but no autographs) between 2 and 4 local time. How delightful.

Grandma Marjo and Grandpa Stan: Grandma Marjo is here with you and is helping you comprehend exactly what all those colored blocks are for. Though you seem to believe they are a form of dense food, they are actually for tower building and, subsequently, glorious tower destruction. We Skyped with Grandpa Stan this morning to discover that his white Christmas involves so much snow that a Belgian church has actually caved in. Yet further evidence that (a) God is clever with His humor and (b) participating in organized religion is at least a little dangerous. Grandpa Stan was, happily, not near the church when it caved in (nor, mercifully, was anyone else, I understand). On the downside, he has had much of his Holiday travel plans curtailed by what seems to be the European storm of the century. Snowstorms AND wet cold. Let's send him lots of warm love!

GG Marg and GG Keith: As mentioned above, Marg and Keith have enjoyed a visit from Kat and Brian today. GG Marg loves Christmas and loves being able to be with her family as often as possible. The snow has been fairly heavy down there where they live too, so unfortunately it has been hard to get around. Understandably, this can bring even the cheeriest elf into a bit of a funk. It's hard, you know, for GG Marg and the family to be so far away from where you are having your first Christmas so it's extra important for us to let everyone know how much we are thinking of them and how much we wish we could be there too (even in the icky snow)! GG Marg and GG Keith are always thinking of you and how happy you coming to our family has made them. They have sent some really wonderful gifts along too to keep you warm, safe, and happy in the days and years to come.

When I was little, Christmas was one of the most exciting times for me. As a kid, you get a lot of attention at this time of year and it can be a lot to get a handle on. As I got older, I still enjoyed Christmas time but the focus changed for me. It became less about the stuff in the boxes and more about the stuff you can't fit into a box (much less describe). It's hard to have your first Christmas away from the majority of the people who love and think about you all the time. It's just important to remember that the stuff in the boxes is just a way of trying to say from afar all those things that can't be wrapped up. You have a lot of people who love you, my dear. The best gift they can ever receive in return is the sight of your happiness and contentment. And, of course, Chapters cards for your Dad.

Love and Blessings to you and the whole family on your very first Christmas ever!

Cheers

Dad.

Oma!

One enduring and wonderful fact about the family you have joined is this:

You have a profusion of grandparents.

To make naming all of them simpler, your Dutch family is easily identified by their Dutch names! And this special lady is your Oma! Today is her birthday and I would like to tell you a bit of what I know about her!

Most importantly, you love her! You love her in a way that is really unique to her. You waved to her first. Your first sounds sounded like "Oma." You laugh every time you see her.

And while some parenting experts will blame all of the above on baby gas pains, I like to think it's because of something I call the "Grandparent's Genius". The "genius" involved is something your Oma has in droves: the knowledge that her primary job as an Oma is to make you laugh, wave, and babble. Omas have the best job because (a) it's one they have done before, (b) it's one they did a long time ago and that they miss, and (c) it's one that's impossible to screw up. Your mother and I are the ones responsible for making all the mistakes and Oma is the one responsible for making you laugh, wave, and babble. There are very few unsightly diapers, arguments about curfew, and no university bills to pay. There gets to be just laughter, waving, and babbles.

Your Oma knows this and loves this. She gets to come see her own little girl and to play with her darling granddaughter as long as she wants and then, when she feels like stretching her legs, she can walk through the park and try to find a place that will let her drink a beer in the sunlight (which are few and far between in our current location...though this rarely stops your crafty Oma...the "Grandparent Genius" also involves knowledge that cops rarely hassle Omas about sneaking a sip of beer here or there).

Your Oma has been there since your first breaths and blinks. Already, she has wiped your runny noses and played with you on the beach. She has rocked you to sleep and comforted your parents when they needed it too. She is here to laugh, wave, and babble with you and she loves you too.

Happy Birthday, Oma!

I'm still here

Hey sweetie. I'm sorry for the relatively emotionally heavy tone of the last few entries (and, if you are reading them backwards, then I apologize in advance that you may have to spend more money on Kleenex...do they have Kleenex in the future?).

I'm having a hard time lately getting even enough time to Tweet let alone time to write blogs to you (do they have Twitter in the future too?). In fact, part of the point of this entry is to let you know that I'm sorry this is a bit of a theme in our lives right now. I am finding that my new job is making it necessary for me to be away from you for really long periods during each day and it bothers me. What bothers me more is that, often when I am at home, I feel very burned out and I am either too stressy or too tired to be much fun.

I am not complaining. Daddies (and Mommies) who have jobs outside of their homes have to be away from their babies. It's a good thing because it means that we are able to get stuff so we can take care of you properly. I am lucky enough to really enjoy what I do and I promise you that if I ever stop loving what I do, I'll start doing something different (Mommy can tell you that I'm a real grouch if I have to do something I don't want to do). The reason I mention this is because I want you to know that, even though I have to be away from you during the day, I'm still here and I am completely in love with a whole bunch of things that you will never remember doing, saying, being, or trying.

The fact that you won't remember these times is a double-edged sword. I clearly have to tell you that I was gone a lot during the daytimes of your early childhood because you won't really remember that happened. Unfortunately, it also means that you won't remember the cool stuff and the laughs that we get to have when I am home. Your Mom says that you won't remember the actual events but that your heart will remember the feelings you had. If that is true, I hope you remember how happy you feel when I return home at the end of the day instead of the fact that I'm gone for most of it.

Here are some things I wish you would be able to remember:

• How hard you try to find me when I hide behind the corner.
• How often you have used my chest hair as a balance aid.
• How much you love the fact that I won't let you play with my eyeglasses and how hard you consequently try to get them off of my face.
• How you babble to me because you know I need to be able to talk to you.
• How you immediately started licking an old breakfast plate when I was momentarily mesmerized by the new version of Pac-Man for the PS3 (a classic computer system that was used for playing amusing and, clearly, distracting video games).
• The fact that you puke on me often and without so much as a belch to alert me to the coming flood.
• Your face the first time you tasted solid food (sweet potato). I have never seen a more exquisitely balanced expression of both pleasure and alarm in my life. It was like the face you would have if a blessed Angel of God Almighty had just appeared before you and then slapped you across the cheek.
• The fact that you love being spooked and surprised by us. You have the loveliest bated-breath grin every time we figure out a new way to sneak up on you or swing you around. I am in no hurry for you to develop fear.

There are a zillion other things I am forgetting. I'll write other posts about them later. For now, the last thing I would love for you to be able to remember is in this picture:

I haven't shared this picture with anyone until now. I don't know why...mostly because I forget to. But it might also be because this is the moment I met you...and that's something that is just ours. For a few moments, the nurses, your Oma, and Auntie Nicola just left us alone and let us bond. After 30 hours of trying to get into the world, you were born. This is the very first time you looked up at me and I looked down at you. If you could have spoken at that moment, I think you would have said something like, "What the hellllll just happened??" The best part was when I was able to just hold you and you stopped crying. Your alert little violet eyes were still darting all over the place trying to adjust, but your heart was calm. You'd been fed by your Mother and then held securely by your Father (securely because I sat the heck down). In that moment, I looked down at you and told you who I was (I think I told you my name) and that I was there for you.

And I'm still here...even when I am away.

Dad.