Iohan's baptism

Just over a week ago, Iohan Hilary was baptized into the Orthodox Church at our parish, Christ the Savior. The boys' beloved godfather, Brandon, flew into Chicago for a too-short trip to be present at the sacrament; godmother Corene, being nearly eight and a half months pregnant, was unable to make the trip. (She was sorely missed!) Laura's mom and Gabriel's brother both made the trip from Michigan; we were also blessed with the presence of some of our Chicago friends, who roused themselves for the very early Sunday morning baptism. It was a wonderful weekend, and we are joyful beyond words that Iohan has been received into the Chruch.

Christ the Savior Church, with the baptismal font. The iconography is quite new (some, in fact, is still in progress) and is so beautiful as to be awe-inspiring. Brandon, right behind Father John, holds Iohan during prayer.

Those baptized into the Church are baptized by triple immersion, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I'm fond of baptizing babies as close to the customary 40 days as possible. They have no idea as to what's going on and they don't fight the priest. Iohan took his baptism beautifully. Here he is over the font, with the icon of the Baptism of Christ in the Jordan on the far wall. I love this picture because Iohan is named for Saint John the Baptist and Forerunner, seen on the icon in the act of baptizing Christ. Iohan is practically reaching out to his patron saint here. I just realized that Iohan is about to be baptized by a man named John as well.

Post baptism, our pink little baby is dried and dressed in his white baptismal gown.

Every baby needs to fuss a little after being dunked in the water three times.

Feet are annointed with the oil of the Holy Chrism.

Father Anthony Coniaris, in his book, Introducing the Orthodox Church, writes:

"Baptizing infants before they know what is going on is an expression of God’s great love for us. It shows that God loves us and accepts us before we can ever know or love Him. It shows we are wanted and loved by God from the very moment of our birth. To say that a person much reach the age of reason and believe in Christ before he may be baptized is to make God’s grace in some way dependent on man’s intelligence. But God’s grace is not dependent on any act of ours, intellectual or otherwise; it is a pure gift of love."

(Thanks to Christine for finding that succinct passage.)

My mom made this beautiful gown and jacket for Jonah's baptism just over three years ago. All our boys have worn it, and I hope to one day pass it on for any grandchildren that we may have.

Who dat?

Manny has been slow to speak, much slower than Jonah was, and with less articulation and enunciation. He tends to drop the last sound or syllable from several words, which I know can be a sign of a deeper speech pathology. When I mentioned this to our family doctor, he wrote a referral for Manny to see a speech therapist. The evaluation indicated that Manny's speech is, in fact, normal. The therapist actually recommended a session for him every week perhaps for as long as six months, which we've decided is overkill. Since the evaluation, though, we've emphasized the final sounds of words when speaking, asking Manny to repeat them if he drops them. His progress has been remarkable. On his own, he now includes the final sound of many words, especially new ones. (It's as if he's trying to unlearn some of the poor pronunciation on words that he learned longer ago.) He's also started putting together three and four word phrases and has started to ask questions using the big question words -- who what and where especially. Both of these are big steps.

As happy as I am to see this progress, though, I have to admit that I'm going to miss this "baby talk" when it's gone in too short of a time. His sweet little voice asking me, "Who dat?" of the trains in his catalogue is absolutely priceless. It took a little while to get him to say, "Who dat?" while on camera. I'm glad that I stuck with it. And there's a little extra Manny-craziness at the end to boot. "Who dat?" Dat, my friends, is my sweet Mooster.

Angry gnome

Please don't revoke my parenting license for letting my baby continue to cry just so I could take some pictures of him doing so. We call him our little angry gnome when he cries because he looks like, can you guess?, an angry gnome. (Except gnomes are supposed to be ugly, but this guy is incredibly handsome!) Iohan looks just like Jonah when he cries, his face scrunching up in the same way that Jonah's did when he was a baby. A friend once told me that he appreciated seeing pictures of Jonah crying, only because it shows one of a baby's many facets. With that in mind, I've tried to capture the sad faces of my babies alongside their happy ones. Each little memory like this is something that I want to retain, so I snap away while my child cries. But not for too long...

...not when Iohan looks at me with these accusing eyes. So sorry, sweet baby!

Feast of St Nicholas

Happy feast of Saint Nicholas to all!

Not having a fireplace, we improvised with the stocking-hanging location. Near the back door, in the kitchen, works well enough for us!

Manny and Jonah are thrilled with their puppy stockings. Iohan slept thru the party, and, like most babies, will probably sleep thru most of the special days of his infancy.



$1 flatware from Target...

...and a little box of Jelly Belly jelly beans are enough to make two boys very happy. Yet another reason to treasure these early years.

Gabriel spent way too long putting this mini-kitchen together, not because of any ineptitude on his part, but because the thing arrived in an impossibly large number of separate pieces. I almost burst into tears when I looked into the box, but Gabe saved the day when he said, "Don't worry, honey, I'll take care of it. What are dads for if not this?" Thankfully, the boys really like it, so it wasn't time wasted. Well done, Gabriel.

First snow

The same day that we met Santa was also the day of our first snow. Jonah loved walking in it, pretending that we were in a fierce snow storm (the snow didn't even stick, porr deluded child). He kept telling me throughout his walk that his dog pal Whiffy was at home, reading a book called "Jonah, Mama, Manny and Iohan and the Snow Storm." An exciting read, to be sure!

Looking over my shoulder just now, Jonah just said, "Ooooh, look, it's the snowstorm!" Now Manny thinks that it's a snowstorm, too.

First visit with Santa

Well, this is something that I never did as a child: The meeting with Santa. The religious group in which I grew up was pretty zealous about not celebrating any holidays that may have had a religious meaning behind them. We had no Christmas tree when I was a child, though my immediate family and one set of grandparents did give gifts. (Ironicially, we celebrated the entirely secular holiday of Thanksgiving with gusto.) Visiting Santa was out of the question. Indeed, from the first I knew that "Santa Claus," he of the red suit and herd of reindeer and elven slavery, was a myth. Sinful child that I was, I maliciously ruined Christmas for some neighbor children, making sure to let them know that, "Fools, Santa isn't real!"

Now, as a mom, this is one battle that I'm choosing not to fight, or at least not to go out of my way to fight. I plan to avoid Halloween like the plague no matter how cute kids in costume look, but Santa is ubiquitous, and, as far as I'm concerned, harmless. As my parents did with me, I told Jonah that Santa is a pretend man who rides around in a sleigh with reindeer and is believed to bring children gifts. My kids won't actually receive gifts from Santa, nor will I ever stand in line at the mall so they can sit on his lap, but I won't go out of my way to avoid Santa. Our children will know about Nicholas, saint and Bishop of Myra, and, admittedly, things could get a little confusing when the kids learn that "Santa Claus" is a corruption of "Saint Nicholas." For now, though, Santa Claus of the reindeer and Saint Nicholas whom we honor on the 6th of December are two entirely different people.

This Santa fell into our laps. This fall, Jonah's been attending a Chicago Park District "play class" near our house. The class lasts for 1 hour and 45 minutes, which has been just enough time for me to go grocery shopping or play at the park with just Manny before arriving breathless and one or two minutes late for pick-up. For the last day of class, there was party (of sorts) at which the kids could play with toys and ride-on cars and tricycles in the big gym, eat way too much sugar and meet Santa. Jonah was totally enthusiastic about the first two, but unsure about the third choice. After he saw a couple other kids walk away from Santa with a toy, he decided to give it a try.

Mr. Tom, Jonah's teacher for play class, is on the left. Jonah really liked him. You may notice somebody fixing Santa's beard in the back. Because he knew Santa wasn't "real," Jonah wasn't bothered by the fiddling around.
Can you see the green beard Jonah's wearing? Store-bought cupcakes with (what I consider) nasty frosting.

Apparently, this defective-beard Santa only brings cellophane stockings filled with cheap plastic toys from China that Mama throws in the garbage within fifteen minutes of arriving home. I wish my kids realized how lame that is.

In case you're wondering, Manny did not like Santa at all. He was concerned when I went near Santa to take a picture of Jonah. When Santa left and shouted "Merry Christmas!" while waving at the kids, Manny almost burst into tears; he only didn't cry because someone distracted him with a cellophane stocking of his own. Apparently he's not crafty enough to avoid being suckered in my cheap toys, just like his brother.

Busy growing.

November 19, 11 days old November 28, 20 days old. And handsome!

Yes, it is hard work being a baby, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

Brothers

These pictures were taken just a few seconds apart. I don't think that Manny necessarily made Iohan cry, though you might not know it from the photos. At any rate, Manny is commiserating with his little brother. What a sweetheart.

Can you see Iohan hanging out down at the bottom? He's camouflaged pretty well. Aren't baby critters usually born with some sort of camouflage? Yeah, he's like that: A little critter.

I think that this picture was Jonah's idea. He really, really loves Iohan. He says things to him like: "What do you think, little guy?" and "I want to see that little chubby guy." All this in his special baby voice, of course, which is much softer and higher pitched than his regular voice. He also likes to show Iohan everything he makes, and he's pretty good about helping by fetching various things and washing him off at bathtime (supervised, of course!). If only Jonah were old enough to babysit, I'd be all set.