Another February Lunchtime Appearance

I like this clip because, amidst the high chair action, you can see and hear Mateo almost cry before he becomes altogether distracted by the hood strings of my sweatshirt.

Our Days Are Numbered

It is now official: I have to be back at medical school on June 1, 2009. Mateo will head back to the US with me in late May to spend a summer of fun with his grandparents in VA while his mom dives into the deep end of med school in NY once again. Bernardo will follow us in August, once he has finished his teaching for the semester and turned in his Music Therapy Masters thesis. Aside from anticipating those three months during which our family will be straddling the Atlantic and surely missing each other fiercely, there is a gamut of emotions associated with bringing a close to these past 2 years in Spain and moving back to NY, this time with Mateo in tow. We are thrilled to be closer to the family and friends that await us stateside and pained knowing how acutely Mateo's grandfather and great-grandfather will miss the little man's enormous presence in this home. I am excited to re-join the world of clinical medicine and yet dreading the time that I will have to spend apart from my boys each day.

One of the many sensations we perceive through all of this is, however, unequivocal: since realizing that our time here is limited, our days have become especially sweet and our awareness of the beauty of our surroundings--the landscape, the family, the rhythm of our days--especially heightened. Running along the river and watching the cows and their calves graze on the greenest of Asturian hillsides is blissful. Listening to Mateo laugh consecutively in the arms of his great-grandfather, his grandfather and his father around a single table and in the span of 5 minutes is a richness that few may know. Our mornings together, the three of us playing and breakfasting and seeing the town wake up outside our windows, are brilliant.

Now, if we could only understand our entire lives with this perspective, knowing that our days together on earth are inevitably limited and so always nurturing a heightened consciousness of the beauty around us. How else could we possibly appreciate all of the many blessings? I am going to employ all of my senses and give it a try.


Mateo preparing to launch the yellow cup (followed by every other object within his reach). The elementary school that Bernardo attended can be seen through the window behind him.

Meatless Fridays?

No problem in this household!

The Feast Before the Fast

Our little chinito was a big hit in the Carnaval celebrations today, as much around our table as while regally strolling through Mieres and while playing at daycare with his buddy, Israel, who was a lion for the day. Little boys in costume = big fun. I imagine it'll be even better when Mateo is able to understand when he is, indeed, costumed. He sure has captured that serious "gaze-into-the-distance" of a mini revolutionary in this first picture, though. Mao would be so proud. (Or, possibly, offended.)

A Hint of What's to Come

"...we've got some Carnaval preparations going on here..."

Call it what you like, Mardi Gras, Carnival, Fat Tuesday; it is arriving to our house and our son in a big way tomorrow.

(I also like this clip because shortly after I first speak, you get a quick glimpse of the way that Mateo likes to breath hard through his nose while flashing a mere suggestion of a wicked smile. He makes me laugh. This is a great phase.)

Lunchtime at Our House

We're going crazy with multimedia blog posts! A special thanks to a handful of Bernardo's violin students who didn't show up for their classes yesterday, granting Berni time to download family videos!

Enjoy these high chair tricks by the roly poly man himself. He digs the new chair, especially when the plastic tray isn't there to restrain his movements, as seen here...

These Men Can Dance

Evening play:

Like Father, Like Son

(I like them both.)

Bernardo, 14 months old, on San Lorenzo beach in Gijón. For those of you who attended our wedding, you may recognize the church in the background from the Palm Sunday mass that we attended together, before sharing the warmest of meals on that rainy April Sunday in Gijón.

Mateo, 6 months old, celebrating his great-grandfather's 94th birthday with a big meal amidst snow-covered mountains in Felechosa.

The continuity of familial celebrations is gladdening; the resemblance of the boys, staggering. If this is any indication that Mateo has inherited character traits of his father along with the looks, the world is in for a treat.

Outgrowing the Changing Pad

Man, I love those legs. The happy socks are courtesy of Aunt Alexa, who picked them up for Mateo in her great state of Michigan.

The disarray displayed below the changing pad is nothing compared to the state of my mind. But I, like the socks, am happy.

Daily Duos

We try to get a good dose of music in each day, the best kind being that which we can make together. Mateo seems taken with all of it: the piano that he explores with his dad, the cello that plays to him during his afternoons at home with his mom, the bowing and plucking of Bernardo's violin students, whom we sometimes sneak over to the Conservatory to listen to in the early evenings. This fascination is to no credit of our musical skill but rather to Mateo's sense of wonder, as he is seemingly just as excited by the sight of my cello case, white and shiny as it is, and three times his size. He starts breathing quickly and shifting his weight back and forth between his right and his left foot (while in his exersaucer chair, of course) and reaching out with his arms as soon as he spots me with the case in my hands. Our afternoon music makes me laugh because, consciously or not, as soon as I start playing for him, Mateo begins banging on the musical touch pad of his little exersaucer chair, effectively accompanying me and my Bach suites with electronic excerpts of a) the opening lines of Beethoven's 5th Symphony; b) Old MacDonald; c) the melody of Vivaldi's "Spring" with synthesized drumbeat or d) assorted animal calls (cat, dog, cow, lion). Bach is either laughing along with us or rolling over in his grave.

Mateo takes a stroll

We don't crawl, but we do have this going for us:

Made in Spain

Cheering on the home team. Thanks for the t-shirt, Uncle Robert!

Dog Gone Cute

Few things in life rival the goodness of a recently bathed baby in clean pajamas.

The paintings of Asturian landscapes in the background were done by Mateo's abuela, Mercedes.

Sunday's Best

We got home from mass in time to watch the final sets of another spectacular tennis match between Nadal and Federer, this time the final of the Australian Open. Meanwhile, Mateo spent the hour playing, "reading," chewing, untying, and talking on the couch alongside his grandfather.

Entirely focused on the task at hand.



There will always be a touch of Bolivia in our home.



A studious pair.

This photo was not a setup.