Mele Kalikimaka.

We lived with Aloha this Christmas!!

 It was so wonderful. In fact, it felt like we were back to stay for good.

Plus, wouldn't Emmett and Margot do well as little North Shore Keiki's?

No I am not skinny dipping in the pool...my swimsuit strap covers only the right shoulder.

It was so fun to revisit our favorite food spots.

And participate in our ritual Sabbath day surf observing.

Sun + Beach + Football = Eric's Best Christmas Present Ever

Margot and Berkley star in Blue Crush: the Sequel?

p.s. Eric's dreaming of a White Christmas 2010.

 Carly, however, wouldn't mind having another 80 degree 
sunshiney one.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

9 months in. 9 months out.

My Margot has been out of me as long as she was in me.

I think now is the moment she begins her true independence. 

She breaks away; not much, but in smallish ways.

Walking invades crawling, "Ma Ma" replaces crying for her needs, hair hides the infant baldness, she assumes the bottle holding while eating, and naked gums are lost to a mouth stocked with teeth...basically "grown-up" traits.

Frequently I end up moaning with regret the minutes I may have wasted with Margot the Infant; yet, today was the beginning of my yielding to the inevitable: Margot the Girl.

 I was, for the first time ready, even anxious, to find out more about this daughter: her interests, hobbies, strengths, weaknesses, joys...all things that are ahead for her. 

Here's to tomorrow!

p.s. 
Happy Christmas! It really is the most wonderful time year, 

for it is when we celebrate the arrival of the Good news: 

"Hail the Heav'n-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Son of righteousness!

 Light and life to all He brings, Ris'n with healing in His wings.

Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man may no more die;

Born to raise the sons of Earth, Born to give them second birth.

Hark the Herald Angels sing Glory to the new born King!"

Hope you all have a really fabulous Holiday!

Willem Emmett Red is 3.

Willem Emmett.

 I don't think he even knows his first name is Willem. 

The week he was born we called him Willem, but it was wrong. The name was a stranger to him. 

He's Emmett. 

The origin meaning of the name Emmett means, "All Containing; Universal; Strong." 

And he came that way.

 He is a sort of renaissance man boy.

His interests, his personalities, his temperaments are"All containing".  

Like how he's obsessed with all sports that involve a ball, but will sing and dance his way between the bases. He will "read" his books late into the night and then construct intricate cities and 

roadways with his train tracks.

He's stubborn; he'll act tougher than nails, even amoral at times, but in a instant he'll break, and before I know it he is smothering me with love. 

He doesn't fit a mold. He is every mold.

He is the most passionate and enthusiastic, not to mention, dramatic, person I've ever met! 

Oh, and his rampant imagination; everything is an adventure!

He has an intense zeal for life. 

No day is ever dull or meaningless with Emmett.

I'll be frank, I am wasted at the end of every day.

 He keeps us all going full speed, 100% of the time.

But I know this small body houses a firm soul.

He is no fence-sitter; rather a force: "strong"...let's all hope a force for the good!

p.s. Melt.

Hallow's Eve

 

Up until about the age of 13 Halloween is the best.

"Everyone we know is giving out Candy for free!"

But then, there comes a point where you can't hide your post-pubescent voice as you show up on the doorstep and ask,
"Trick or Treat?"

 Regardless of how childlike your costume may be.

 Halloween thus turns into lame-ness.

UNTIL....

you have your own kids!

Than you relive all the excitement of the holiday through the eyes of your little ones.

It was a treat in and of itself watching Emmett's face at each house as they dropped candy into his ghetto walmart grocery plastic bag.

p.s. My Mom's prom dress inspired our 70's prom king and queen get up, in case you were confused as to what we were attempting.

Icky Chocolate Brownies.

I used to pull great strength from the fact that I have endured the struggle of bringing not one, but two human souls into this world.

Well done me!  I survived the difficult feat of living through pregnancy and giving birth...twice!

How funny that in these last weeks, this strength of mine has been strained, actually,

 pretty much demolished, by one seemingly simple task:

Potty Training.

Nobody warns you during pregnancy of Potty Training.

They make sure to inform you of so many of the obstacles that come with little ones like

 the sleep and feeding issues, but nobody mentions,

 "Oh and by the way, potty training marks the end of your life."

Nobody tells you how your role as a mom will eventually evolve into a sewage worker.

And how your patience and loving instruction for your toddler goes down the toilet (if your lucky) as they suddenly realize they are in control and can dominate you by pooping and peeing wherever and whenever.

Then you make yourself loony as you start creating a fantasy world in the toilet to entice your child to use it,

like poop birthday parties in the toilet tunnel with presents and candles,

and tinkle turning into yellow twinkle stars.

I must admit, it has been rewarding to see Emmett join in the imagination fun, coming up with his own poop terms like brown snakeys and icky chocolate brownies. 

I've come to realize that potty training Emmett will not happen over night, and could even take months, maybe even 9.  And at the end of those nine months, perhaps i'll once again discover my enduring strength, this time not from pregnancy, but from potty training.

Compelled to Blog Privacy by Paranoia

I have felt an impending necessity to make our blog private.

I'm actually surprised I've lasted this long...considering how I am constantly looking over my shoulder, ready to attack any creep that may spring him/herself at my little ones.

I'm really not exaggerating, although, I admit, and E would agree, I have been known to over indulge on details.

This time I'm almost under indulging.

I'm very paranoid.

I would love for those who would like to keep in touch to leave their email addresses.

We'll switch over to private mode starting the 1st of October.

As Emmett would say,

"Gracias!"

p.s. whoever said TV zapped brain cells must have swallowed helium as a child (which really does zap brain cells), because Emmett has practically made Spanish his second language thanks to my friend Dora the explorer and her pal Boots.

Female Visitors

We had visitors this weekend.

Eric's Mom: Joann.

And 2of his 5 sisters: Lori and Anne Marie.

We did the usual:

The coast, St. Honore's boulangerie, Lake Oswego farmer's market, downtown Portland town, Mother's Bistro.

And we did some new ones too:

Portland Japanese gardens, finding nooks and crannies of upper Portland with the most desirable little homes (only a car full of girls would do such a thing), and discovering Cannon Beach's fresh salt water taffies.

After their visit I couldn't help but be a little jealous that Eric got to grow up with so many great girls in his home.

p.s. Lots of female visitors = Lots of help with kids = free hands that don't know what to do with themselves = really awkward pose by me.

The Giver

Eric's birthday was yesterday.

Eric is the world's most thoughtful gift giver, hands down.

He has my birthday, Christmas, anniversay, Valentine's gifts planned months in advance.

And they never disappoint.

Like the one time we were in Borders looking at art books and I randomly pointed and mentioned that I loved this one early picasso painting, "Embrace in the Street (Les Amants Dans La Rue)". And he secretly wrote it down. And months later, on our anniversary, I received a gorgeous oil reproduction of the picasso with a certificate to buy a worthy frame. There are other times when "priceless" is his theme and he presents me with his sketches, or writes cheezy poems or, for instance, sings home-made lyrics to The Sound of Music's "These are a few of my favorite things"....about Carly.

Evidently, I sort of struggle with his days of honor.

This time I tried to mimic his tactics.

I planned months, (or rather, a month) in advance. I listened carefully for subtle interests of his. I wrote them down. I even made sure he couldn't witness what I bought through our online accounts.

So what was his thoughtful, fabulous, unique gift?

I bought him Basketball Shoes.

In a nutshell: they were a bust.

"Too small, doesn't even play basketball anymore, not even 'real' Jordan's, get him shoes every year...."

Not like he said all of those things, but I knew it.

I had totally failed, yet again.

And to tell the truth, I was far more dissapointed than him.

So Eric, here's my second attempt at your birthday gift:

I now solemnly hand over to you the throne of all rockin gift giving.

I will never out-do or even match your skills ;

i'll remain the surprised, enthusiastic, grateful

gift receiver.

p.s. Emmett finally let Eric eat a piece of his birthday cake, thanks Emmett.

And

Margot went mobile for Eric's birthday.

Feminist Criticism vs. Margot.

This morning. Not so great.

Went to send a feminist critique on Flannery O' Connor to my Instructor via email.

My paper was nowhere to be found on my dinky lap top.

Lost.

Gone.

Forever.

I cried.

Bawled.

You see, I don't have much time or energy for typing decent papers.

So polishing one off feels a feat for me.

I cried again.

Then Margot woke up hungry.

I instantly switched from student mode to Mom mode.

I decided to introduce her to a whole new world....Food.

I watched her slurp the rice cereal in and out,

pulling Jim Carrey like faces,

reacting to new tastes and textures.

Then she smiled, telling me she liked and approved of this new world I had shown her.

My paper suddenly seemed tiny and unworthy.

Margot makes everything all better.

p.s. While Margot was eating her rice cereal,

I ate some dark chocolate joe joes.

That helped too.

Ode to Sugar Doodle.

I don't know if I want to one up what a lot of people have written this week about their husbands and the father of their children.

(Although, I'm pretty sure He'd take the cake.)

But I will say that He is the ideal husband... for Carly Runia Red.

And He is the supreme father for

Willem Emmett Red

&

Margot Vollie Red.

I'll be the first to say it,

Sugar Doodle, "You're Irreplaceable"

(quote by: Sasha Fierce).

p.s.

Eric and I have an on-going struggle with terms of endearment.

Most of the time we'll call each other one of our most favorite foods or desserts such as,

"my delicious flourless chocolate torte"

or

"my little pomme frite with garlic aioli."

We think it conveys our love most accurately.

Untitled

This post is a first for me, I have never written on this blog, or any blog for that matter. Carly is the one who keeps it up to date. Quite frankly if I was in charge it would have never happened, however I would comfortably suspect that a large part of why it is still going is because of me, I love it. It makes me happy.

So, in this blog post, I wanted to express my appreciation to my wife, publicly. I know that doing it this way can be embarrassing but personally conveys more meaning. It can show that there is no fear in the true feelings and that how the person feels is more important than what others may think which in this case, is true for me.

Carly,

I have been taught that there is not just one person for everybody, and that falling in love is something that you have to work on. I agree that you have to work at it in order to keep it, as is with anything; you need to nurture to grow. However, with you I have always had a unique feeling. I have always felt it, since the first day I met you. I can’t trace it or explain it; it is a very sacred, spiritual and emotional feeling. I knew that you were the ONE for me and I know that there is nobody else. These past few months have been rough, probably some of the most trying times we have or ever will face, during these hard times I have felt so much from you, so much Christ-like love. I have felt constant charity and pure love and because of you I have grown and will desire to continue to grow to a better husband, father and man. I love you and thank you for giving this imperfect human being a chance.

“Wise men say only fools rush in

But I cant help falling in love with you

Shall I stay

Would it be a sin

If I cant help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I cant help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I cant help falling in love with you

For I cant help falling in love with you"

The Sun Came Out.

The sun doesn't come out very often up here in Portland.

So when it does, us Reds make it a festival of an event.

Emmett's routine remark for this festival is first a gasp, followed by a really high pitched screaming voice, "Wook Mom, the sun came out!!!"

(p.s. I wasn't kidding about him being the "wook mom" shadow.)

These last couple of weeks we've had a flood of sunny days.

In fact, Emmett has pretty much stopped pointing out the sun is out.

These are some of our fun in the sun outings of late:

Airplane flying

Farmer's marketing

Cannon beach-ing

Pool partying

Wook Mom!

This Drawing sits on our book shelf which faces our bed.

So on Sunday, while reading in my bed, I was purposely trying to ignore this noise:

"Mom Wook! ... Mom Wook! .... Mom Wook! ... Mom Wook!

(A.K.A. Mom Look!)

Kinda sounds cruel.

However, F.Y.I., this noise follows me as closely and as constantly as my own shadow.

Probably even closer, if that's possible.

Eventually I gave in, hoping to quiet this shadow temporarily,

"Yes Emmett?"

Emmett, standing right below the drawing on the bookshelf looking just like this, replied,

"Wook Mom, I'm Jesus!"

p.s. Eric's sketching skills...not bad, huh?

Green with Envy.

Hmmm. Of all the things I fretted about with having a second child, I never anticipated this. I'm fraught with jealousy.

Eric, my BFF, soulmate, lover, is now enamoured with another girl...Margot. Margot, my sweet little sunshine, gleams brighter for her Dad than any other person on this planet.

I feel replaced.

p.s. I suppose there are worse things.

Margot! Can't Touch the Hair.

Emmett has long blonde hair.

There are many, particularly my Dad and brothers, who totally disdain this long blonde hair.

In fact, last time we visited, I couldn't leave Emmett alone with Papa due to his constant threats he'd cut it all off.

But Emmett with short blonde hair wouldn't be my Emmett.

"Protective" would classify mine (and Eric's) opinion on the matter.

However, this protectiveness has seeped down, beyond us parents, and into Emmett himself.

This video conveys what I mean:

So quick to forgive.... but....we still gave him a trim.

p.s. Margot's hair now fits into a clippy. Way to go Margot!

Margot's Blessing Day.

p.s. Margot is wearing the same blessing dress, cap, and blanket that I wore on my blessing day.

I know...precious, huh.