My wife’s head is tilted at a precarious angle; she can’t be comfortable. Our nine-month-old dosing peacefully in her lap is the image of comfort. I’ve got a ten pound head in my lap. Every couple of moments, the body attached to it squirms a little.

My family is making what is turning out to be our bi-annual trip to Mother Russia. After a few days of frantic running hither and yon, our plane ride is half over. I really should be sleeping as I’ll need every ounce of strength in me for the next leg of the journey. But I’m not. The orangey poke in the sky, 35,000 feet above the Atlantic caught my imagination.

There is something ethereal in the air before the sun bursts onto the day. Even on a plane full of unknown people, the magnetic strings of the mood suck me in.

Now the shapely stewardess, wearing her smart red uniform is coming down the aisle, wielding a curled duty free catalog. And with a few downward thrusts, the window covers are closed. And with them, my mood.

Maybe I’ve got an opportunity to catch a few more winks after all. Wait, what’s that whimpering sound? Nikita is stirring. And something tells me my winking will have to wait for later.

Soon we’ll find what fun it can be to ride the Muscovian Metro during rush hour on a Friday afternoon with two large pieces of luggage, two children, and a pram. Why? Alexei loves riding the metro. Silly parents, next time get a cab.

It’s snowing outside! Like the little kid I am, I’m ready to get up and go out to play.

Last night, Alexei and I went outside to prepare for the snow. We actually didn’t have many preparations to do, but ever since I took him out on the deck after dinner a few weeks ago to look at the night lights, he’s taken a liking to playing outside in the freezing cold darkness. Anyhow, he saw me get the snow shovels out of the shed and decided it wasn’t fair for me to have all the fun. We peeked in the windows and saw Mama, put two baseballs in the middle of the yard to get covered with snow, and visited our small park in the side yard.

Why, pray tell, am I up and at ‘em so early on a Saturday morning? The snow woke me up. Of course, it may also have had something to do with the fact that I couldn’t find any warm pajamas to wear last night, so I donned my big red fuzzy-bear. It was too warm for me in there, so I didn’t sleep under the covers. This was all fine and dandy until 20 minutes ago when I woke up shivering.

Back to the snow…on my way home from work last night, I heard on the radio that this snowstorm is the biggest one to hit the DC area since records have been kept. I suppose it’s still a little early to say whether it will fully materialize the way it’s predicted to or not. Still, the snow of the century is something worth getting up early for. Even if all I do is write a blog post, roll over, and go back to sleep.

Speaking of posts, this site gives the appearance of lying fallow. That is true to a certain degree, but at the same time I’ve got an impressive backlog of half-baked posts just waiting for me to spend a little time polishing them up. It’s a drag when life chortles along fast enough that there’s barely time to live it.

Owen baby (as Alexei calls him) is in the process of returning to dreamland. Either that or having a bowel movement. It’s kind of hard to tell — the sounds are the same. He was just a very happy boy for this most recent feeding. I’ll have to check with Anastasia when she gets up, but I think that this is the longest he’s gone between feedings, a whopping 5 hours.

All told, there’s a bit of a silver lining to me at this juncture in time. A month ago, I welcomed my second son, Owen Nikita, to this world. Nearly two months ago, I closed on my first home. Work is interesting, in spite of my perpetual behindness. I’ve got the best helpmate around, and she’s pretty on top of that. Surely, I am blessed. Granted, the upstairs is under construction, I don’t have money for the mortgage yet, the kitchen drain leaks in the basement, insurance may not cover a good junk of Nikita’s birth, and so on and so on. I’m wearing my rose-tinted glasses and plodding forward with a smile on my face (and a gnarly beard on my chin). This blanket of snow is just the icing over it all.

Today was a zoo day for father and son. The only bad thing was that I got a little bit of sunburn (fortunately, Alexei didn’t). I was pretty impressed with how quickly we were able to get out of the house. We set a personal best record by arriving at the zoo entrance before 11am.

Even though there was a nice strong breeze most of the day, it was still pretty hot. When we arrived home a bit before four, I decided it would be a good idea to reward ourselves with a glass of lemonade. Mind you, we had been drinking water all day long, but there is something to be said for sitting down and enjoying the simple pleasure of a sweet chilly beverage with your offspring.

Alexei wasn’t too keen on waiting for me to pour it; he wanted to drink right then and there. When I finished diluting the lemonade a little bit, we headed into the living room and sat on the floor. My son came over and sat down on my leg, ready for a sip. I gave him one and then took one myself. To my surprise, he got up. Looking at me, he started making some strange motions with his right hand and saying something I’d never heard before. After a minute or so I guessed what he might be saying, but wanted to make sure.

The motion was something like a fish swimming through the water, like in a Sabbath school song he sings. And the word sounded like, “ish?". Thinking back, a few days ago we had taken the whole box of Goldfish crackers along with a glass of lemonade and sat down on the floor together. He remembered and was asking me for the ‘main’ part of the snack.

To confirm, I asked if he wanted fish, to which he replied, “Da.” Then I asked if he wanted reebki (Russian for fish). Another da. Finally, I tried to confuse him and asked if he wanted a leftover chocolate bunny from Easter. The smart aleck smelled something fishy and responded NO with a wag of his head. Even though he passed all my tests I made him point to exactly what he wanted in the kitchen. I needn’t have done that because it was, in fact, Goldfish he was after.

Whether or not I interpreted his gestures and words exactly as he intended me to, I’ll never know. Nevertheless, it was pretty amazing to witness Alexei communicate what he wanted but had never expressed before. Instead of just sharing some lemonade with me, my son gave me a magical moment that I’ll have the privilege of reminiscing on for the rest of my life.

Goldfish. The only fish that smiles as you eat it.

Much as a beltway around a large city often serves to starkly demarcate good neighborhoods from bad ones, in my little slice of the universe, I view rain as a similar divider. Said simpler, on a nice day anybody and everybody can walk outside. But throw in some ominous clouds and a sprinkle or two, and only the havenots are out and about.

You guessed it, today was rainy. The normal population of the Wednesday library group is around 20 children and their grown-ups. When it started today there were seven; two more trickled in before the program finished. In all fairness, the walk to the library wasn’t that bad, just a light drizzle. However, it was coming down nice and steady by the time Alexei and I left the library at noon. He was pretty happy inside his plastic bubble. All the water and cars zooming by must have been pretty interesting (especially with snack in hand).

Before I faced rain as a dad with a stroller, I had the pleasure of experiencing it in several other situations. Not to be moronic or anything (of course I’ve “experienced” rain…I don’t live in a desert), but on the backdrop of my upbringing in suburbia, rain was usually something that could be avoided. Yes, there was the few seconds in between the car and home, but that doesn’t count in my book.

I graduated from the University of Maryland, College Park in 2007. It took me longer than most of my high-school peers to get through undergraduateville (in fact, a few of them already had doctorates by the time I gradumacated). Anyhow, way back when I entered UMD, parking was even more limited than what it is now. As a commuting freshman, my parking spot was not what you would call very good. After a 40+ minute drive to school in the morning, I had a brisk 20-minute walk to get to class. Under good conditions, I really enjoyed it. Walking in from Lot 4 to the main part of campus could be relaxing — to pass through cow country every morning was definitely one way to start the day. Coming back around to our topic: when it rained, it poured. Twenty minutes of slogging through a torrential sheet does wonders for your clothes. Sitting in said clothes for hours at a time does something else. There was some small condolence to be found in sharing varying degrees of soakedness with the others in class with me. By the time one class had finished, we’d all have dried out a little bit only to be soaked the moment we stepped outdoors to go to the next one. Walking on the sidewalk near streets was especially treacherous. I got pretty good at avoiding the splash zone (quite handy with a stroller). To close out my rambling thoughts on walking in the rain at UMD, I’d like to share a guilty pleasure. As a driver, I loved to splash pedestrians real good! Maybe I should have been more compassionate, as I was in their shoes more often then not. I wasn’t, though, and deliberately went out of my way to soak people whenever possible. Mua-ha-ha!

Sandwiched in between my eight years at UMD, I lived in Russia for a year. As part of the self-discovery bit, I wanted to get out into the world and fend for myself. Teaching English, I soon discovered, was probably the easiest way for me to make a living outside the US. The only question was where. Showing my great geographical prowess, I narrowed down my options by trying to find a really cold location, as cold weather and I get along well together. On a map, I found a small sliver of Russia, disconnected from the main landmass. I knew nobody there, and it shared a latitude with Alaska. Alaska is cold, so by association, Kaliningrad must be also.

Kaliningrad, the Seattle of Russia. Obviously, I slept through a bit of geography. Instead of perpetual snow, I found rain, rain, and more rain. In fact, there was probably a month or two when I didn’t see the sun once. As an economically strapped student teacher, I never had the luxury of driving during that year. Most of the time I took public transportation. Living in a rainy city, waiting at [uncovered] bus stops, and being long walks to/from said bus stops left a sopping Troy on more than one occasion.

As I think back on these repeated walks in the rain, I really don’t have any bad memories. In fact, a certain feeling of nostalgia more accurately captures my mood. I enjoy being dry as much as the next guy, but perhaps walking in the rain does a body good. If I had had a car or some other way to avoid the rain, I’m sure I would have. And yet I’m glad that I didn’t. For without the rain, and more specifically, me being in it, I wouldn’t have these memories.

Alexei is at the age now where he can stomp on puddles by himself. He’s not real good at it by grown-up standards, but he has a ball nonetheless. I was there to see his expression the first time he made a splash. I enjoy seeing him try to jump up and down (still hasn’t got the hang of that yet). And, I’m looking forward to him someday appreciating the inconvenient rain, like I do now.

Rain, rain, go away.
Come again ano….

I DON’T think so! Let’s go out and play!

About two weeks ago, Alexei and I were putzing around the house and decided to go exploring inside the big toombochka (Russian for dresser) in the living room. He found some nice vases to clink together; I found the guest book from my wedding.

It was the first time I’d more than glanced at the guest book, and I must say I was pretty impressed. Just the simple gesture of scrawling one’s John Hancock is actually a gift in and of itself. So, without incriminating anybody too directly, I thought I’d share a few choice entries from our guest book. Nobody’s name will appear, but the handwriting is authentic.

1- Happyness	2- Not for me
3- Half measures	4- Cool
5- Go girl	6- Very Happy
7- Love Troy	8- Best life; da
9- Bravo	10- Blessings
11- Affectionately	12- Russian: Be happy
13- Russian: Newlyweds	14- Russian: Kiss
15- Proposal

As I was flipping through the pages, I found myself wanting it not to end. But end it did. And from that beginning’s end sprang the last two years of marital bliss. Happy Anniversary, us!