Dad-dito’s B-day

I fenced this morning at HB studio, where I used to help teach two stage fencing classes - frequently (weekly) – and which I now teach (since M-ito was born) infrequently – ie: when I can grab a long lunch from my job and not have to pick M-ito up from school on that day. I fenced three hours – what seems like, and is, a true luxury. I’m achy and sore from swinging a sword and teaching and lunging first with rapier then smallsword. I have a big smile on my face. I love this kind of thing.

Afterwards I came back to Jackson heights and I picked up M-ito and Mom-ita and took him to his last swimming class of the season. He takes individual lessons at Saf-T-Swim on Long Island – where he has truly learned to swim incredibly well. Mom-ita found that it cost almost as much for half hour individual lessons in Westbury (40 minute drive from home) as it was to take a group class here in our neighborhood. Individual lessons it has been and it has paid off very well with a confident swimmer and a boy who loves to be in the water. I watched him laugh and joke with his instructor, then swim the crawl, the back stroke, the elementary back stroke, the breast stroke, dive, and do all kinds of search and recover underwater tricks. 

We ate dinner at a small Italian Restaurant in Mineola on the less formal pizza side of the establishment. M-ito explaining to me with a diagram where I need to sit tomorrow night at the Shiros in Atlas Park (a Japanese restaurant where they cook at your table) so that I don’t get burned by the cooking oil – which happened to him when he was there last and is also the reason he won’t return. So he won’t be coming with us as it’s date night for Dad-dito and Mom-ita – the first one we’ve had in almost six months.

Sitting in our kitchen, M-ito and I shared a blondie we bought from the Ambrosia bakery folks at their table at the Food Coop – Farm Spot, and laughed as he farted and I made silly noises to complement him. Mom-ita rolled her eyes at us while she finished the dishes. No dishes today for the birthday boy.

I put M-ito to bed, reading him the story of Stick Burr (and replacing Butt with Burr whenever I could – just to make M-ito laugh and giggle, then correct me) a comic book format favorite. We fell asleep together.

Mom-ita woke me up an hour later so I could do my prepare for yoga class in the morning. Writing this blog entry caps off, what for me, has been just about a perfect day.

Gerbils Gerbils

We have gerbils. We held off for a full year in getting them, though M-ito has pressed the whole time for the furry friends. We finally got them and M-ito was in mammal heaven. When people ask, what are they, he loves to say, “They’re in the rodent family. They’re rodents.” I try not to think that way. I tell everyone they have furry tails so they look cuter. In any case we got two a Marc Marone’s Parrots of World in Rockville Center – a place recommended to us the same place we went for the various ill fated fish and the hardier hermit crabs. Overall a good choice, we thought.

We got two white gerbils, females, each about 6 weeks old. M-ito named them Movie and Fari. I don’t know why. they both look so alike I can’t tell them apart. M-ito can. We handled them each day. M-ito has been feeding them in the morning. We taught them to climb into a coffee cup – sans the coffee. 

All seemed perfect.

Then nine days later I looked inside their cage and noticed there were four babies nursing next to Fari (Movie?). Hmmm. I called the shop the next day, after Mom-ita and I scoured the web for gerbil handbooks and every scrap of info we could find on breeding. I called the shop the next day and Marc said, “Well, they must have been a little older than I thought,” an interesting understatement because they have to about 10-12 weeks old to have babies – and, he added, “One must have been pregnant when we sold her to you. Sorry about that. Bring the babies back to us in three weeks and we’ll take care of them.”

Okay. IN the mean time M-ito is fascinated by the babies. We’re fascinated too – I have to admit. They’re pretty neat to watch grow day by day. As of today they are just starting to grow fur and we can see their colors changing. their eyes are still closed. But… what are we going to do with six gerbils? Some of which will undoubtedly be boys and and some girls. Gulp.

I asked M-ito what he thought we should do with them.

“Keep ‘em,” he said without missing a beat.

“We can’t keep six gerbils,” I said. “That’s not happening.”

“Okay, Dad-dito. I have an idea. You’re not going to like it, but I have an idea.”

“Tell me about this idea of yours.”

“We’ll it involves twenty-one cages, maybe twenty.”

“You’re right. I’m not gonna like it.”

And so the negotiation begins. I have a feeling we’ll have three gerbils by the time all the back and forth is done. Maybe more… with visits from family near and far. 

The Altar of the Perineum

I was thinking of this recently. Mom-ita was telling M-ito’s birth-story to some friends at dinner and it reminded of what the midwife said just before his head emerged. She was kneeling down at the foot of the bed.

“I worship at the altar of the perineum.”

Then she unwrapped the cord from M-ito’s neck (it was wrapped around twice – not a big deal for an experienced midwife, but impressive to me none-the-less) and caught him as he entered the world.