Hot / talented / intelligent wife? Check. Homemade salted caramel and chocolate ganache cake? Check. Abnormally attractive offspring whose physical appearance will earn him above average wages throughout the course of his life? Check. Years 1-30 completed with resounding success.
(Post Edit from Kathryn: Since when did Mike do his own birthday post?! Happy 30th Birthday, love. I love you + us & our life. We had a fun day, right? My favorite part was watching you & Quinn just hanging out on the couch after church. He adores you, & we're both lucky that you love us. And - Glad you liked the cake, because that was complicated enough that there's no way I'm making it again until next year! xoxo!)
For those following my pathetic facebook status updates this week, you're likely well aware that I'm thrilled to have these two home again. Seems like home also agrees with Q. Note the spastic happy-dance motion on continual replay. He continued this routine all night, including in my arms while I tried to give him a bottle. Sorry, no video of that segment of the evening, as I was wearing a uniquely monogrammed white t-shirt covered in sweet potato puke. We'll save that reel for the special features / director's cut.
Good to be back in the fatherhood / husbandry game (wait, that's probably not the right word... oh well). Much love to my Texas second cousins that took such good care of my next of kin.
Last week I joined Kathryn at Quinn’s six-month check-up. Included in this visit were booster shots for his immunizations. This trip taught me two things; first, that Quinn is becoming increasingly aware of his own life, and second, that my emotional and spiritual connection to his life experience consume me to the core.
Let’s start with the evolution of his awareness, signs of which have been rampant over the past several weeks. A particularly poignant example occurred two weeks ago during bath time. As background for those who haven’t tuned in lately to Q’s bath time, he has become increasingly crafty at playing with the water faucet, carefully applying pressure until spraying himself in the face. In this specific instance, he wryly stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, as if he were applying his “thinking cap” to the task. Success from these efforts resulted in a brief look of shock, followed by an expression of utter glee (picture every dimple activated, his massive cheeks inflated to the max, and his leaning-towards-greenish eyes as big as saucers). In this simple moment, cause and effect (coupled with surprise and delight) abruptly become concepts within his own repeatable grasp. Life was his oyster, as it were.
This increased level of awareness will of course bring him to realize the sadness and pain that contrasts life’s joys. This brings us back to the aforementioned topic of the doctor’s appointment last week. As soon as we began to disrobe him in the exam room in preparation for this shots, his lower lip started in quiver and frown, in a cartoonish way that only Quinn can do. He knew the drill. Something wasn’t right, and pain was on the horizon. He began to cry as soon as I laid him on the paper-covered exam table.
Segue to topic number two: the all-consuming nature of my feelings for this boy. Were you able to glimpse in to my psyche at the moment I had to place him on the table, you would instantly understand what I mean. Not to overstate the significance of the moment, but I felt in some way like Abraham bringing Isaac to the altar. By no means the same level of consequence, but I was certainly leading this helpless child to a moment of pain that he didn’t bring upon himself. A massive pit formed in my stomach, something I didn’t expect given that I haven’t ever had an issue receiving shots myself. (Kathryn had insisted that I join her for this round of shots, and in all honesty I discounted her prior descriptions of how horrible she had felt making Quinn go through this… lesson learned!).
The shocked and pained look in his eyes starkly contrasted the look of joy and amazement we shared at bath time. But both had an equal effect of captivating my soul. These simple moments are forerunners of greater events to come (not the least of which Kathryn described recently – imagine the challenging task and bizarre sensation of beginning to move your jaw and tongue in unison to guzzle down an unappetizing foreign slurry!). And as these moments happen, I pray for the discipline and recall to remember and cherish them, whether through writing, video or pictures (and NOT relying solely on my wife’s brilliant photography and prose).
Some nights when I’m rocking him to sleep in his tiny nursery, I’ll divert from our normal routine of repeated (and slightly tone-deaf) renditions of Renee & Jeremy’s Powder Blue. In these moments, I’ll quietly stare at him in the near darkness and admire his perfect features and sweet expression. And often I’ll say a prayer of gratitude and worship, completely awestruck at the marvelous miracle in my arms and the true richness of the blessings that I enjoy by having him and his mom in my life.
The other day a co-worker (not of my faith) remarked that one of his lasting memories of Harvard Business School was a commencement speech offered by then dean Kim Clark (who is of my faith). In an unorthodox address to a group of driven business people, he spent the entirety of his allotted time addressing the importance of balance in one’s life. The specific sound bite that my co-worker mentioned to be of particular impact on him (enough so that he still remembers it 15+ years hence) was the oft-quoted teaching from David O. McKay that Kim included in his message; “No other success can compensate for failure in the home.” In keeping with this teaching, I would further pose that no joy in life can compare with joy in the home.
And so concludes the longest come-back post in blog history. To those who actually read this, there’s a bonus give-away in store for the first person that can correctly count the number of times I employ my stylistic quirk of starting sentences with the word “And.” Double-bonus to any English majors out there that can convincingly support or deny my usage of the colloquialism "as it were." Don't hate the player, hate the game.
(Attended a live taping of The Colbert Report tonight)
S. Colbert: "Does anyone have a question for me? Yes, you, young man"
M. Whiting: "My wife is almost 20 weeks pregnant. What should I name my baby boy?" S. Colbert: "Xerxes" M. Whiting: "So let it be written, so let it be done."
K Dub and I attended this concert a few weeks back. Her camera was confiscated at the door, so the best we could do was an iPhone audio recording. Through the magic of iMovie, I've created a photo montage that captures the essence of the evening.
Bonus points to anyone who can spot Young Love Berg in the montage.
Fox was at Bubby's with us (+ his parents & Mike's other nice friends) this morning & he had his first experience with the photobooth. When it was our turn, he ran into the booth & kept saying, Khaki! Mike! Money! Khaki! Mike! Money! Cheese! over & over again until I propped him up on Mike's lap & he put the bills into the machine. How could we say no? So he joined in, & that was just fine by us. Plus, look how well he performed? Love him. We might just keep him when Erin & Matt say See you very soon & very often! (i.e. not goodbye)at the end of May.
So, with that introduction of just how much his friends (big & small) & I love him, Happy Birthday to Mike. He's among the most particular people I know, so the fact that he decided to marry me is sometimes just astonishing - but I'm lucky that he did, & more grateful for that event (& all of the subsequent experiences, challenges, & happiness) every day. This month marks 5 years of adventures in matrimony, & this year is bringing even more - with more variety & challenges, I'm sure. But it's so fun to do it all with him! I can't wait.
(For the record - the birthday dinner this year consisted of burgers + great desserts at DBGB Kitchen & Bar. I suppose it's technically a French restaurant, but they're known for their burgers & since Mike is a burger guy, that's what we ordered. Yum.)
Good bye hot girl I tried to pick up in periodicals
Good bye zoobie guys with long sideburns (don't worry, they've already remade 90210, so before you know it, long sideburns will catch on nationwide... socks with sandals are sure to follow shortly thereafter)
Good bye, fleeting glimpse of facial hair...
... soon you will go the way of Christmas '09 beard, just another clog in the drain of life
Good bye cheesy Magelby's rolls... may you always be cheesier than an evening at The Malt Shoppe / Fat Cats / The Dollar Theater
Good bye snowboarding diet of Reese's Puffs and and In N Out... The 1000 calorie freebie afforded by 6+ hours of intense daily exercise has been liberating
Good bye incessantly monitoring the Doppler radar... Your pathetic and sporadic specs of green and white will mock me no more
Good bye mountains... thx 4 the memories, TTYL, LYLAS
Successful morning meeting with Huntsman Corp. They were thoroughly impressed with my knowledge of the local culture. I imagine they don't see too many bankers that understand the local nuances of Shade clothing and fry sauce.
Shortly thereafter, i met k dub and wandered pointlessly through The Gateway, while wondering aloud 'who the "fetch" (utahism) conceived of building an outdoor mall in such a cold climate?'
Currently in the parking lot of the Red Iguana, hoping to avoid a carjacking.
One desk agent to another, while servicing pre-boarding for JFK-SLC: "man, you wasn't jokin' 'bout these Mormons.. They just don't STOP with the stupid questions."
Cue a well-known LDS single approaching counter: "excuse me, can I change my seat?" (using gooey, aw shucks, "I live by the point of the mountain" voice)
Agents had just repeatedly said the flight is filled to capacity and seat changes are impossible.
In thinking about this post, my mind wandered to a distant memory of a particularly poignant 80's Monster Ballad that I thought carried the above title. Alas, I couldn't find it, and am left without the anthem that I thought perfectly encapsulated the theme of this entry. As a somewhat unrelated but equally delightful runner-up, I managed to stumble on this little gem:
Let its nostalgia and inspirational chorus envelop you as you delve further in to this post. And don't worry of it doesn't quite fit with what follows.
Time waits for no man. So goes the immortal proverb of the unknown philosopher. This week in the men's room of a client's lobby in midtown Manhattan, I caught a glimpse of myself as if staring in to some unknown face, one markedly changed by age.
A far cry from this lucky schmuck (that's yiddish, for all you non-subway riders) that stumbled in to NYC five years ago after marrying the cutest and most interesting girl at BYU (sorry for those female readers that also graduated in '05... I know, the truth often hurts, but she was just cooler than all of you).
Much has happened since leaving Zoobieville. I've accumulated this pile of notebooks, which detail the gripping comings and goings of my lifetime at Citi. They chronicle three CEO's, four branding changes, seven different versions of business cards, dozens of clients, two bosses and a stock drop from $55 to (at one point) $0.99. One day I'll tell my kids "you know, in my day, you could buy a sandwich with five shares of Citi stock."
Another mile marker of change - I've grown increasingly impatient with drunk people, especially 30+ year olds that import Jersey Shore lawn games to Manhattan bars. Surprising, I know, given my upbringing in Fairfield County, CT (the binge drinking / pink polo capitol of the East Coast).
This post is getting way too lengthy, and isn't nearly as well organized as I had intended. Ah well, your fault for reading it.
Smokin' hot date on Thursday PM with K Dub. We had a VIP session on "Shooting HD Video on your DSLR" at the Fifth Ave Mac Store. This two-hour jaunt mainly consisted of Kathryn listening to some stereotypical Mac guy (picture horn-rimmed glasses and skin tight t shirts, irrespective of physical fitness) drone on about how cool his $10,000 camera equipment was, while I tried to trick Geniuses in to explaining how to use Handbrake DVD ripping software (a big no-no to those law suit-wary Mac nerds).
We accomplished our primary objective of the evening: figure out how the heck to activate the video function. Here's our first run of shooting "HD" (not really visible in HD on the web because we didn't render it properly) on the 5D. *The shot is blurry due to my lack of talent in managing the manual focus, but at the end of the clip I think you can still make out Kathryn's glaring scowl at my immaturity.
After discovering this new world of documentary possibilities, we moved our party to Pop Burger for a little impromptu crunking session. Here's a shot of mah shorty gettin' LOW!
I bet you didn't know K Dub could get down like that. She's actually amazingly musical and rhythmic. SO musical that when her hairs get all over the bathroom, they fall in the shape of treble clefs.
Unrelated note for the evening: If anyone is interested in what wet nail polish tastes like, I believe Kathryn can tell you from personal experience.
...a relatively recent tradition in the (New Canaan) Whiting household. Rules of the game: give something of meaning without spending money. Nothing worse than a problem that can't be solved with money.
Time to put my thinking cap on...
Eureka!
For 2010, I'll give Kathryn a minimum of two Mike-authored blog posts per month.
A few guidelines:
1. I'm setting a realistic bar, one that I can likely meet and perhaps beat (rule #1 of sales - under-promise, over-deliver)
2. During at least one of the monthly posts I will drone on effusively about how great my wife is, much to the dismay of our maritally unfulfilled readers (add "rubbing the greatness of my marriage in the face of my friends" to our aforementioned list of Stuff Mormon Girls Like)
3. I'll do my best to limit my impact on the blog's readership by posting these entries during "non-peak" blog surfing hours (you know, like Saturdays, when our female Mormon readers use their coupon-clipping savings to pay for babysitters and go on their weekly "we're married, but you BETTER treat me like we're still dating" dates / attend stamping parties / train for their upcoming half-marathons / host scrapbooking group / go to Dashboard Confessional concerts or the local production of Wicked).
4. I will ALWAYS justify the margins. Otherwise this gift will become the bane of Kathryn's existence, and I'll get the boot.
Kathryn from a distance, waiting with a friend for Shake Shack to open.
Me, lurking around the Shake Shack entrance... Kathryn is inside, being lured to the restaurant's basement seating area.
Peering through the window... as most New Yorkers do on a nightly basis. She's still in line for food.
Friends start arriving...
More friends arrive...
All present and accounted for... lock and load!
Sending friends down the stairs in staggered pairs, all of whom acted like it was a total coincidence that they were running in to Kathryn and the rest. She was thoroughly confused.
The finale! Happy Birthday!
Mormons letting their hair down, NYC style. Pass the green jello and funeral potatoes!
Portrait of a woman overcome with confusion and affection. Love you K-Dub!
Travel for work. As much as possible. No wife at home missing my awesomeness + all expenses paid + exotic destinations where people drive cars and shop in strip malls = an all around good deal. Yesterday's trip was to Minneapolis, MN. Fun fact about Minneapolis: Prince's home town. One of my ex co-workers from Minneapolis loved to remind people about this, as if his hailing from Minneapolis gave her town some sort of unique cachet. I gave her an A for effort.
My trusty steed for the trip - 2009 PT Cruiser. An abomination of American engineering and perhaps the epitome of unimaginative and useless design that has led the American car industry in to the toilet. Take it from an expert. After all, I work for an American bank!
The lobby of the Graves 601 Hotel. Bar none my favorite hotel I've come across in my journeys across the country as a bank pitchman. Fantastic rooms, MONSTER plasma screen TV's, first-rate interior design, excellent food, impeccable service, all for a relatively cheap rate. And I like this backdrop to their front desk... it's a moving sculpture that oscillates with air currents in the room. Looks like something out of Lord of the Rings.
Drink coconut water. Slick deal available on Amazon right now. I've ordered four cases to date during this sale. I might need to restock before month's end. One can never have enough third world fruit beverages.
Sausage Fest #1. B White and D White in from the CT. Mullet-licious Argentine food at Libertador, four hours of Mario Kart Wii, old man hoops on Saturday morning, scalped Yankees tickets on Saturday afternoon. Good times kicking it with them during their tag team mission break (Dave gets home, only to have Bryan leave later in the summer).
Sausage Fest #2. Man date with Tim Cannon in Chinatown. He may have the edge in basketball, but I taught him a new kind of humility in Street Fighter II. Dinner at Joe's Shanghai next to a couple from the Netherlands (the restaurant is so packed that the waiters seat you at the same table as strangers).
Pity feeding by kind ward members. The Burtons cooked up a storm this afternoon (thanks again!) during my second man date with Tim in 24 hours. (Crap, so much for playing it cool and not calling for a few days). Tim and I are victims of Mormon women's payback for those long missionary stints during the Restoration. Back in the day men would be called away from their families for years on end, and as a reckoning modern-day NYC Mormon women flee the city / their husbands for the summer and head for Utah / Arizona / Idaho / some other locale where Olive Garden is considered Italian food. The remaining males band together and are often the subject of charitable Sunday meals on the part of the remaining females.
Take low budget pics with my iPhone because ‘our’ camera is somewhere in Northern Idaho.
Survive on supplements and air dry my 10x reused protein cup. Why get a new cup when a simple rinse will do? And why use a towel to dry when you can just let nature take its course for a few hours?
Chip away at week-old stale brownies. The ultimate pick-me-up between protein shots.
Not put things away. The kitchen scale and blender at the bottom of the frame have been in the same spot in the middle of the kitchen floor for 48 hours. And don’t even think that peanut butter is going to be set right side up!
Blog even though I know only females read the entries on Mormon blogs. Or at least those are the only people who will admit to reading the entries. Men occasionally read Mormon blogs, just like they occasionally flip through Cosmo or US Weekly when in line at the grocery store. Then when their wives / GF’s say “OMG did you know so and so broke up with what’s his face,” they know exactly what they’re talking about, but play it cool and say “why would I possibly know that?” but totally know and just don’t want to lose their man card.
Sleep sprawled across the bed. I’ve concluded that my preferred body position somewhat resembles a swastika (arms and legs bent and stretched at similar angles). I considered drawing a diagram for you in MS Paint (yes, MS Paint, because ‘our’ Mac is also in Northern Idaho and I am thus relegated to my vintage work laptop), but decided against that. We’ve made a concerted effort to keep the anti-Semitism on our site to a minimum.
Good bye cheesy Magelby's rolls... may you always be cheesier than an evening at The Malt Shoppe / Fat Cats / The Dollar Theater
