Love Buzz

Posted on August 20, 2010 by Matt Lawrence

He told his wife that it was fine if she wanted a baby. He didn’t really, but he wouldn’t do anything to get in the way. He would support her and the family. He had a big–time career. And he would continue to work. That is how he would contribute.

But he told her to not expect one of those real engaged fathers. The baby was to be her ‘thing’.

About 18 months after the baby was born, he came home from work and his wife had something she needed to do. She handed him the baby.

He was alone with the kid. Snuggled up in the crook of his neck, his mind rambling.

This was not the deal. I have work to do. This family is not going to pay for itself. AND I have to make dinner. This is all wrong. It’s all wrong, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t going to be this way.

But his body was saying something else.

Oh man, this feels good….This warm nugget of love feels really good…I’ve never felt anything like this before…I am so lucky! I love this little guy. Please, please, please never leave. I love you little man.

bondage

Like a mother, a father feels the neuro-hormonal bond through a surge of oxytocin, at the same levels that a mother does [1] during child birth. And skin to skin contact from a man home from work brings new antibodies against disease, transferred through the skin. Our bodies were designed to be together. They were designed to be touching, skin-to-skin. Which is pretty handy because it feels so freakin’ good.

I get high when I see my kids after being at work all day. Though, I used to think it was a contact buzz from living on Vashon. I thought oxytocin was reserved for mommas and Rush Limbaugh. But I kind of like knowing it’s in me. Laying dormant until I see my family, just waiting to pounce on me to make sure I really feel the good things in life.

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1.Gordon, Ilanit, “Oxytocin and the Development of Parenting in Humans.” Oxytocin: It’s a Mom and Pop Thing. 20-Aug-2010. 20-Aug-2010. http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2010-08/e-oia082010.php

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All My Old Shit

Posted on August 7, 2010 by Matt Lawrence

I have a fedora, a skull ring, a really great jean jacket, and a little engraved bracelet my mom gave me when I was 8 that says “MATTHEW” on one side and “LOVE MOM” on the other, she got it at a mall kiosk in a suburb of Chicago.

Somehow, I have managed to keep these artifacts from the life I’ve lived.

In some cultures, there would be no question on the value of a families possessions. The yolk for the ox is necessary—it’s service life transcends the poppa, and is passed through the generations. Everyone in the family benefits.

I have two types of things I could pass on to my kids:

Crap I’ve amassed along the way

I like my crap. Of highest value I would say is my road bike. It is a RAD bike. I built with a friend when I worked in a bike shop in Chicago. The steel frame was built to my body size; hand painted by colors I selected and spec’d out at every point along the way with a high (very high) attention to detail. It is a thing of beauty. Will Jacob think so too?

Crap my family amassed along the way

My family has gathered some really great stuff too. For example: I have my great aunt Idell’s toaster, her metal slotted spoon, dozens of her old handkerchiefs, Mary has some cashmere sweaters, and her “SHALOM” key chain ring which dangles by our door.  I have Mary’s grandfather’s cufflinks that I wore in our wedding.  Mary has a ring my mom wore. Will Elouise want all of this stuff?

~

For the first time in my life, I second-guess what I give away. Do I want to pass my fedora onto Jacob?  I don’t have a watch. I use my phone. Will Jacob want my phone? What is the difference between my great grandfathers Bvlgari and my iPhone? Will my phone enchant my ancestry in the same way it does me? Will they even care? Do I need to go out and buy a nice watch to pass on?

What is captivating about the stuff is not only how it was made, the condition it was kept in, but that it was my grandfathers. Simply that he had it, in his possession, for some greater part of his life makes the object valuable to us.

So, once again, as I mature, my family starts to make more sense to me. I used to think my grandmother was CRAZY for always asking me what I wanted after she died. She asked what I liked, and I would get all nervous, did she think I visited her because I wanted her things? I didn’t know! It was all cool. It was all old. And hers. And welcoming and I wanted it to always be hers so that when I saw it, it meant that I was seeing her.

Which is exactly what she wanted.

It’s a good thing I was finally able to mutter out a few things I liked. Otherwise, she would have never known how much I liked this old Jack Daniels tin.

Jack Daniel's old No 7 Brand. Also my grandmother.

Then again, she probably knew I liked this one….

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I Could Have Been a Red Balloon or a Dragonfly

Posted on August 3, 2010 by Matt Lawrence

I could have been a red balloon, tied to a rail. Unexpectedly, you turn the corner and shriek with joy as I prance in the wind. I could have been a gigantic chocolate bar. I could have been an mountainous pile of gravel dumped in front of your house, begging you to grab at me and scatter my tiny fragments.

I could have been an icy cold pint of beer after a long day of moving bails of hay. Your little fingers blistered and sore from your first day of manual labor. Tip pointed down, dripping in blood, I could have been a silver sword, used to run through your enemy. Having saved your family, returned your father safely home. I could have been a dragon fly zipping gaily around your golden curly locks.

But I was just me, home from work. You were stoked to see me, and I was glad about that.

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Racist, Patriarchical and Violent: Light Reading To My Daughter Before Bed

Posted on July 29, 2010 by Matt Lawrence

Pa beats Laura for playing with Jack (their lovable dog) on the Sabbath. He then looks at her sadly and they cuddle as he regales her with stories of how much more difficult it was for little children–and especially little girls– back in her grandfather’s day.

Summer days in the Northwest are long, it stays light until about 10pm.  By the time we are reading our kids to bed, it can be pretty late. My ability to edit what I am reading on the fly is usually challenged by a glass of wine, the day’s mental exhaustion, and the cozy kid I’m snuggled up to.

Wilder’s series are not safe, but neither was life back then.  The family lives in the woods amongst wild cats, bears, and boars. Life is harrowing in the Big Woods and Little House on the Prairie tales, and as my wife was says, it is up to us to teach them about the dangers in the world–though, she definitely wants to do so in a measured and caring way. I do see that Pa and Ma provide a loving home during a time in our country’s history that was bloody, harsh, and ever-changing.

There are details on how the frontier family hunts and stores food which is sure to get any nouveaux city chef a total food-on.

Though I am reluctant to be the delivery mechanism for those dangers just as she is about to drift off to sweet kid-land slumber, it was not so many years ago that I would have banished the books on some type of moral high ground. Either I’m loosening up, getting tired or simply finding more gray in how I approach the world.

Fortunately, my daughter still likes the passionate, loving, non-fascist cartoons of Dr. Theodore Seuss. But who doesn’t?

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Sharing is Caring is Crap

Posted on July 25, 2010 by Matt Lawrence

I say it all day long:

“Sweetie, please share with your brother–Is that very special to you–Would you be willing to share that–Honey, if you don’t think you can share it, then I’ll have to take it away–In this house, we share with one another-Oh, good sharing. Thank you for sharing–Jacob, that’s you sisters…”

Look, there is no way I’m going to share my éclair with you. When I’m riding my bike. I’m riding it, dammit–you can’t use it. I don’t want anyone borrowing my new boots. They are new, and they are mine. And I am still excited about them. You can have a sip of my bourbon. But not a sip that big! [this happens all the time]

The point is, I am an extremely generous man. When I want to be.

I completely agree with my daughter. Sharing (when you don’t want to) sucks. And what could be harder than living with Little Lord Fauntleroy, who is currently totally unstoppable and barely trainable.

Soon I tell her, soon, we can reason with Jacob, and explain to him that it is a very special blue silk and that Elouise is not ready to share it. But currently, it is entirely up to Elouise to give in. And she is great, she usually does. Except when she doesn’t. And that’s when it’s hard. Because she is tugging on the doll’s head, screaming–and he is tugging on the doll’s feet, wailing. And I’m like; WTF!? There are 1500 dolls in this house!

Maybe I’m delusional about the future. I am starting to think merely explaining the concept of sharing to Jacob isn’t going to cut it.

I remember sharing with my brother. It was horrible.

aaaarrgh! when will it end???

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The Jitters

Posted on July 18, 2010 by Matt Lawrence

Before he was born, I was scared that he and I were not going to get each other. I was paranoid that the baby inside Mary’s belly was maligned against me. I was worried that no matter how much I moved towards him, to understand him and to love him; he would ultimately push me away. Our whole lives were going to be contrast and struggle. I felt like this through much of the pregnancy.

He has a killer dance move. He puts one ear down to the ground and smiles–his little legs kicking his butt in the air. Then he rolls over and pops back up, continuing to flail his arms and twirl in circles–smiling the whole time.

I totally get that move. When ever he does it I scream. He knows I like it. When he does it,  he he looks at me to make sure I see it.

Jacob and I are fast buds, the relationship is mine to screw up.

Why was I so worried? What was I thinking? While it was happening, I had a hunch there was nothing wrong with me or my thoughts, that what I was experiencing was…normal.

And yet I wonder why I was so worried.

photo: Ben Scott-Killian

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Wedding Season, Part II (via Sea Breeze Farm . La Boucherie)

Posted on July 9, 2010 by Matthew Lawrence

How many perfect days do we get in a life? I have had three perfect days in my life. One of them was at Sea Breeze Farm on Vashon Island.

Getting married yourself is one thing.  Someone entrusting their wedding to you to you is an entirely different beast.   Especially when you’re not exactly in the wedding business.   But indeed, our dear friend Matt, who at that time was the Sea Breeze Farm manager and his bride Mary, did just that. We were tremendously honored when Matt and Mary told us they’d like to get married on our farm.  And given the many concentric circles of family and … Read More

via Sea Breeze Farm . La Boucherie

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