Listening Post: Happy Birthday Edition

Five-years-old today, and with me for the very first time for her birthday.

Happy Birthday, Inara.

Here's Ash -- Shining Light.

Up in the Air

I should've warned everyone about this earlier but I'm out of the loop all day today. I'm in Dallas right now, making my routine pilgrimage to a place I normally wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near to bring Inara to her mother. This time around, my child spent an entire month with me in Los Angeles, just the two of us, and I have to admit that more so than any other time I've had to part with her, I'm particularly devastated.

Anyway, I'll have a piece for Banter tomorrow, but aside from that I've got more work on my desk than I know what to do with right now and I'm going to be going through a bit of a grieving process so I can't vouch for how strong the output around here will be over the next 48-hours or so.

Talk amongst yourselves.

California Love

If you're friends with me on Facebook, chances are you've already seen most of these. But since I'm indisposed I figured I'd put up a few more pictures of Inara's time in Los Angeles, working around her being sick -- and her having made me pretty sick.


Relaxation


Making the pilgrimage to the Nickelodeon Animation studios in Burbank


Inara and Spongebob


At a voice recording session for Monsters vs. Aliens (Thanks to Bob Schooley and Mark McCorkle)


Dora the Explorer animator and Supervising Producer Jeff DeGrandis draws a picture of Dora and Boots just for Inara


With Lego Spongebob


With Diedrich Bader ("Rex Kwon Do!")


Her Finished Drawing


Welcome to L.A., kid


Ennui


Flowers


Stopping to Smell...


The Girls


Corn!

But If You Try Sometimes, Well You Just Might Find...

Santa Monica


"We are Sex Bob-Omb! One, Two, Three, Four!"


Inara and Taryn


Pickles are always funny.


It's all about the shoes.


Nirvana

Morning Glory

California Girl

In case you were wondering why I was completely absent today -- take a look. Flew to Dallas, picked up Inara and flew back in a mere 15 hours. (Mere. Right.)

This is what happened when she saw the big donut atop Randy's Donuts near LAX just a couple of hours ago.

I'm gonna be a little indisposed for the next couple of weeks, but I'll keep as much content coming as I can.

Walt of Voodoo

I'll be out of the loop all day.

I'm taking Inara to Disney World.

Thus the cycle of subservience to the Almighty Mouse continues.

Parenting for from Dummies

So Inara is sitting here watching Dora the Explorer -- of course, because that stuff is catnip for preschoolers -- and in this particular episode Dora travels to China.

While there, she learns that the Chinese kids apparently have their own version of Swiper the Fox who regularly torments them -- he's a weasel named Ying-Ying.

This is the most subversive thing I've ever seen on this show.

"So, the Chinese have created a cheap knock-off of Dora's intellectual property," I said to my daughter when I saw it.

She just stared at me -- then went back to singing the "We did it!" song.

Daddy Care Day

Just a quick note to wish a very happy Father's Day -- and say thanks -- to all the dads out there.

Now I'm going back to spending today the way it should be spent.

Fight or Flight

Story time...

So I'm taking Inara through airport security in Fort Lauderdale on Saturday morning and the crack staff of the TSA is being especially difficult.

As I haplessly juggle a toddler, a folded-up umbrella stroller and two carry-on bags -- all while trying to re-dress myself after my virtual cavity search -- an irate agent is demanding that I give her my undivided attention while she runs some kind of Ghostbusters PKE-meter device across a pouch of Caprisun fruit punch she's removed from our luggage. Another agent has already informed me that it was apparently impertinent of me to assume that I could get an 8-ounce bottle of shampoo past him, so needless to say I'm not in the best of moods -- especially not since a sign at the beginning of the line declaring that printing toner cartridges are now forbidden on planes lets me know in no uncertain terms that potential terrorists are still dictating the terms of the game and no part of this little dog-and-pony show is keeping me any safer in the air.

After collecting the now scanned and TSA-Approved Caprisun, I bend down to make sure Inara's boots are zipped up -- still trying to balance the unopened stroller with one hand while making sure our bags don't fall off my shoulder -- when a large female agent who happens to be casually strolling by looks at me and huffs with snotty condescension, "See? Now you know what it's like to be Mommy."

At that, I stop cold, affect an expression of shock and contempt and scold, "Her mother," gesturing to Inara, "died in a car accident last year."

The look of absolute shame on that woman's face -- I'm telling you, it's the little moments.

Kid Love

Things will probably be a little slow around here for the next few days -- not dead, mind you, just a little slow.

Inara's back with me for a limited engagement.

Dad's very happy about this.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

I just put Inara to bed.

Every parent believes his or her child is special. I realize that there's a danger in this way of thinking; far too often it plants a demon seed which grows into an insufferable sense of entitlement as the years go by in a young life. We've watched the effect of this brand of parenting on a massive scale -- with children serving as little more than the reflection of their mothers' and fathers' own narcissism -- as it reached a point of critical mass over the past decade. We've been forced to live with the consequences of it, and we've come to despise it.

But all of that being said, I have no choice but to believe -- after all I've seen and felt and come to understand -- that there is something different about my daughter.

It's not simply that she's learning at a truly accelerated pace; that she counts higher or spells better or comprehends concepts she shouldn't be able to at the age of 25 months or engages in two-dimensional thinking; there are plenty of parents who can make that claim. No, what Inara possesses and exhibits that never ceases to leave me astonished -- and occasionally shaken to my very soul -- is empathy. Humanity. She's not just an incredibly sweet little girl; she seems to have a genuine understanding, on a primal level, of the way those around her are feeling. She knows when people are happy, or sad, or angry, or excited, or lost. She feels it. Maybe this gift is something many children have, and I've just never been around one long enough to see it for myself. Maybe it's perfectly natural for a father to convince himself of these things when it comes to his child.

Maybe.

But she's taught me that sometimes I need to shut my brain off, to stop spending my life trying to peek behind the curtain to see how the magic trick is done. And when I do this, I know I can't come up with any other explanation for Inara's rare and inexplicable compassion for the world around her than it being just that: some form of beautiful magic.

Earlier today, she and I went to a place called Butterfly World. While she was wandering the aviary, laughing out loud as butterflies danced all around her, she noticed a man standing alone. She looked down, suddenly very quiet, picked up a flower from off the ground and walked over to him. Without saying a word, she handed it up to him. The look on his face as he leaned over and took the flower from her was something I will never forget. There was more beauty in that moment than in almost anything I've seen throughout my life.

Later, when we got home, she and I laid down together for a nap on the couch. We slept until we were awakened by the sound of rain on the lake outside. She curled up closer to me as the thunder came. I told her not to be afraid -- that it was wonderful. The living room strobed white with lightning, so I whispered to her, "Give me your hand," and we held our arms out together like a maestro conducting an orchestra. I waved her arm up with mine at the moment the sky cracked and exploded, shaking the entire room.

Years from now, I hope she remembers that when she was just a little girl, she and her father could make the thunder.

Lazy Sunday

Goodnight Noises Everywhere

Tomorrow morning, Inara goes back to New York -- but tonight there was this:

After watching some TV on the couch together, followed by a little collaboration on a coloring book that features cartoons of dogs (whenever Inara wants to do this, she gets the book, looks up and announces, "Draw puppy?") and a couple of bites of what she excitedly called a "yummy salad," I finally decided to put my daughter down for the night.

I picked Inara up, carried her into her room and set her gently in bed -- along with a cup of milk, her blanket and stuffed bunny -- then laid down next to her on the floor. I listened to her fidget for a few minutes, then from out of the darkness came a tiny voice.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, baby."

Nothing. She didn't respond at all, just went back to sucking on her sippy cup.

A few moments later, there was the voice again, even quieter this time.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, honey. I'm here."

Even though she couldn't see it, I gave her a warm and reassuring smile -- one fueled by pure contentment.

Again a little later: "Daddy?"

"Yes, Inara. I'm still here. I'll always be here."

After a while, the voice grew smaller and smaller -- its entreaties further and further apart. But each time she called out for me, I answered, until she stopped altogether and the only sound left in the room was her steady breathing.

This is the best Saturday night I've had in years.

Baby Love

Just figured I'd offset the somewhat sexist Whigs wake-up this morning with this piece of heartwarming girl-related news: I'll be out of the loop for the next couple of days because I'm going to New York City to pick up my baby.

Yes, Inara's coming back to her dad for a while -- and her dad couldn't be happier about it.

I'd promise that this won't mean another several weeks of syrupy sweet pictures posted all over here and on my Facebook page, but really, who am I kidding?

See you all soon.

Midnight in an Imperfect World

I think I finally understand the notion of God.

Maybe we each create the benevolent force that he or she deserves. If this is true, then it would explain my lack of faith, and my lack of faith, in turn, would explain my lack of need for faith at this point. Whether there's a personal divinity or one omnipotent force paying careful attention to our trials and traumas, listening intently for our desperate entreatments, I know that it gave up on me years ago. I realize that it's much too late for me.

But I also know that it's not too late for my child.

And that's why a short time ago, as I pulled my little girl close to my chest after running to her bedside and picking her up while she coughed, over and over and over again, her tiny body heaving as she tried to catch her breath, I silently begged someone, something, for help. Not for me, but for her. I stood, rocking her back and forth gently, trying to calm her, to get her breathing clearly and steadily again, to ease the terror that I saw in her eyes. I don't have the luxury of concerning myself with the terror in my own in moments like these, I suppose.

I sat down on the couch, allowed her to lay flat on my chest and stomach, wrapping her arms around me, her head finally resting under my chin. And I just held her for close to an hour. I spend so much time declaring to myself and anyone willing to listen how entirely my heart breaks at the prospect of not spending every single moment of my daughter's young life at her side, witnessing every accomplishment great and small and providing a sense of security that she would never once have to doubt or question. I realized as I clutched her small body in my arms that it was this that I had sworn, to be there not simply during the times when her boundless energy and radiant smile fill me with immeasurable joy, but when her suffering leaves me feeling as scared and helpless as she is.

Inara was born into a world in which she'll never know a father, her father, living with her in the same home. More than anything I've experienced in my life, this knowledge is a source of singularly searing agony. What once seemed like the simplest of circumstances to hope for, the most fundamental and unpretentious thing I would ever want, turned out to be the most elusive. If I dared to pray to that benevolent being on behalf of myself, my one desperate desire, it would do no good, and I know it.

Inara is now back in her bed. I'm still awake.

Kid Rocked

Well, last night marked my first hospital experience with Inara.

After a rough day for her -- very little sleep, not much eating, coughing, runny nose, general misery -- her fever spiked dangerously high just after 9pm. Although I was lucky to get her seen pretty quickly, it shouldn't surprise anyone, least of all me, to learn that the sheer terror involved in having to hold your sick and crying child in place while doctors and nurses hover over her is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. This was made worse by the fact that she had just finally fallen asleep on my chest as I sat in a chair waiting for her to be examined.

It was a rough night for both of us that continued long after we left the hospital -- into the wee, small hours. She still looks undeniably pitiful this morning -- and I'm sure I don't look much better -- but hopefully she'll be feeling better soon.

Translation: It'll probably be very slow around here again today.

Happiness Is...

Time Out

In case anyone's wondering why I'm taking the day off.

Party Girl

I have a digital camera full of great pictures from the party. I'll put those up a little later, but for now these are ones Jayne took of Inara and Dad.