Little Drummer

Here's baby girl playing her wooden drum for the first time. Happy weekend everyone!

A Tradition

 We didn't have a Christmas tree this year. We didn't do the whole Christmas morning present extravaganza. We didn't light a shamash for the Channukiah. We didn't even hang the stockings. No, this year, our holidays were, in a word, mellow. Gaby and I come from very different backgrounds and different religious upbringings, each with their own traditions. We consider ourselves a very spiritual family, although we no longer practice any specific faith. We want Biet to know the deep joy of the holiday season, to understand her rich and diverse heritage, and to experience all of the warmth and magic of this time of year. So we sat down with each other for a long discussion, and decided that from now on, when the holidays rolled around, our little family would focus on two things: the act of giving, and tradition.

The only dilemma is that, for a multitude of reasons, many of our family traditions have become faded and lost over time.  We don't have any old family recipes to bake, songs to sing, places to go, or people to see. We could have gone the traditional route, like we had enjoyed in past years - tree, lights, hot chocolate, shopping, mountains of gifts, Santa, cookies, stockings, candy canes, and eggnog - but, for some reason, now with Biet, that just didn't feel personal enough.  What we make of our holidays will become Biet's memories, her childhood, and her traditions. So we decided not to let mass media, or pop culture, or holiday sales determine that part of her history. We decided to choose each tradition carefully, and with purpose. And we started with one: volunteering.

After our lazy Sunday Christmas morning, we all dressed up, grabbed the giant plate of cookies I had baked the night before, and hopped on the train to midtown to meet an extraordinary group of people. These people also forgoed the tree and the stockings and the gifts, though not by choice. They each awoke on Christmas morning and made their way to the second story of a little building on 46th street to enjoy good company and a holiday meal; because they had no feast at home in the oven, and no family there to share it with.  Gaby mingled and greeted everyone, holding his daughter, in her Sunday best, proudly (oh my did she bring a smile to everyone's face!), while I did dishes in the kitchen and helped prepare the food. A single tree stood in the center of the room, twinkling with white lights, and surrounded with donated gifts. We stayed as long as baby girl could manage before her nap, gave what we could, and made a few friends in the process.  This was the first time I had volunteered, and it was a blast. It was such a meaningful way to spend Christmas day, and reminded us of what the holidays are truly about: coming together, community, and giving.  I feel that this brand new tradition is a priceless gift to Biet.

After saying our goodbyes, we strolled around midtown, took in the sights (its funny but when you live in New York City, you sometimes forget to enjoy all of the majestic attractions the city has to offer), and stopped by the iconic Rockafeller Center tree. We snapped a few pictures so that Biet will see that her very first Christmas tree was the best and biggest in the world! Then it was back home to put a roast in the oven and cherish and be grateful for all that we have.  I feel very proud of our first family Christmas. I know that each year forward there will be more and more bells and whistles {advent calendars! gingerbread houses! Channukah celebrations! tamales (an almost-forgotten tradition of my late grandmother - more on that next year)! home-made gifts and ornaments!}, and I look forward to experiencing them as Biet grows. But this year, it was simple and quiet and magical.

Christmas Morning

Biet slept in on her first Christmas morning until - get ready for it - 11 o' clock!  Of course that meant that we all slept in, which was the best Christmas gift we could have asked for from our dear daughter (or so we thought). Although we had planned to be up and out of the house much earlier (baby girl's 8am alarm clock skills had never failed us before!), we decided that since we were already running a bit behind schedule, why not enjoy it?  So before heading out to volunteer and celebrate in the city, we leisurely showered & had coffees & lounged around in our pajamas for a bit.  We snuggled on the bed and I gave Biet her sole gift from her Mama. I thought carefully about my gift to my daughter, and chose to give her, on her first Christmas, a poem. Sarah Kay, a student of our friend Sacha, wrote this beautiful poem. I was enamored and deeply moved when I first heard it, and thrilled when I heard she was turning it into an illustrated book. Appropriately for little Biet, the poem is titled "B." I read it to Biet later that evening, and plan on reading it to her many, many more times.  Just when we thought the morning couldn't get any better, Biet looked up from her seated spot on the bed, turned to Gaby, and said, clear as day, "Papá." I gasped, unsure of what I had just heard. I almost brushed it off as a fluke, until Gaby turned the corner to leave the room and she called after him "Papá, Papá!" He came back and she smiled, looked him in the eye, and calmly thanked him for returning with a cheerful "Papá." She speaks. And, so far, she speaks {her single word} with a perfect spanish accent.  What a Christmas surprise!