Our song

You’re two weeks old today. And I know this about you already, you love Chopin, especially the Nocturnes. And especially this piece:

I can play it for you over and over and over, and every time I do, you turn your lovely little head to listen. It calms you when we’re changing you; after your bath; or just because; I love to play it for you.

Sometimes I play it for you in the dead of night after I’ve changed and fed you, and I stand in the middle of your room, you over my shoulder [I’m waiting for you to burp], and I sway slowly with you to this music. Until you burp you’re not so comfortable and you squirm and wiggle; and I dance. Once you’ve burped, you calm down; and the music surrounds us, envelops us in its sweetness; I kiss the top of your head and slowly you fall asleep.

And we dance together. My beautiful boy. This music was written for us.

What does your dad do?

My boy, I think it’s important that you know what your dad does for a living, because I’m in the kind of profession that is more than just a job – it’s a calling,that means it is who I am, not just what I do – and that will affect you, which is why I’m telling you this.

I work in news. I make news. That means I write and edit words and images about what’s happening around us.

As you see in this picture (taken by your grandmother) you fell asleep on your dad’s shoulder while I was reading a newspaper. Yes, sometimes they make me fall asleep too. But they live with us. Our house is always full of newspapers, and you will grow up in a house where newspapers are delivered outside our door every morning, where dad and mom read the papers over breakfast and coffee, and on weekends we read them from cover to cover; you’ll hear and see news played on the TV and radio quiet often – usually at 8pm (if you are still awake); where Twitter is always on (I will probably buy you a dog for your first birthday and name him Twitter), and dinner guests always talk about the latest news, especially after dad gives them a lot of wine.

What does working in the news mean? And how does this affect you?

Working in the news means that you watch and listen to see what’s happening in the world, and especially about the things that are important to you. Most importantly: you ask questions. My son, you can never blindly accept what people are telling you – except for what your mom tells you. Working in news means that you ask why things are like they are and what can be done to make them better. And once you have the right questions, and once you are up to date with the news, you try and find an original idea about an issue or story, and then you work on it to tell people what’s next in the story, and how the story affects them.

This kind of work is very interesting, and makes me feel like I am doing something constructive to make the world a better place. It is, also, very demanding of time and attention. This is the home you have entered, and the kind of father you have. But don’t worry I won’t expect you to become a news junkie like your dad. And don’t worry about not having my full attention, to me you are a constant source of news, and I have plenty of angles to explore in you.

Great grandmother, great picture

My gran, Dr. Olga Mizroch is 101, and my son, Yonatan, is 1 week old.

 

There are 101 years between them. Love is timeless. Family is forever.

 

Introducing Yonatan Mizroch

My son. There, I’ve said it.

It’s been an intense week since you joined us. This is the first time I’ve had a few minutes to write.

Your mother and I agonized over your name for nine months. Agonized is too light a word. We diseased about it. Yes, that’s better. DISEASED. That’s what we did. We both wanted different names for different reasons. But all the names we thought of didn’t suit you one iota once you came into the world and looked at us, and we looked at you, and you looked at us, and we looked at you. In the end [or, as far as you’re concerned, the beginning] we agreed on Yonatan, because it’s the name that suits you most. You are a Yonatan, you have been given to us by God.

The truth is – and we’ll always strive to tell the truth to each other –  that in my diseasing I even thought of calling you Yoda, because that’s just me, and you look like a little Yoda [minus the green], and you’re as strong and collected as he is.

Do you see it?

But alas, cooler heads prevailed.

So maybe not everyone thinks you look like the Grand Jedi Master whose wisdom has shaped your father’s life, but you do have your father’s body.

Anyway, you’ve been sleeping really well, relatively speaking; getting up every few hours to eat. You don’t cry when you’re hungry – you grunt, snort and squeal. Your mom is much more sensitive to your middle-of-the-night audio signals than I am, but once she wakes me up, I’m up, relatively speaking.  She now sleeps so lightly. When I met your mother, she was quick to slumber and was a  heavy sleeper! Now the slightest signal from you wakes her. It’s incredible, scientific, mystical, biological. Female. Maternal.

Now we take turns feeding and changing you at night and I’d just like to thank you for being such a gentleman about it all.

At work during the day I walk around like a zombie in love: Dead tired but elated.  And I can’t wait to get your little hands around my finger. My little Babywan Kanobi. My little Jedi. We’re besotted with you; every little part of you.

Hello world!

In November 2010 I had a heart attack and survived. Since then I fell in love, left a stressful job, started working in a much healthier environment with truly amazing people, ran 10km in 75 minutes, got married, moved house, run three times  a week, ride 9km to work and back most days, and do a million other little things that fill as much of my life as I can with meaning.

I started this blog 8 days after my son Yonatan was born. This little person is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me. And it’s only been a week!