fits & starts

There's No Uuuuh Sound in English

I've headed back to school. Sort of. Last week I began taking Korean lessons at a small learning center in Koreatown. It seemed like a good idea at first, a spur of the moment thing. When I called to inquire about lessons, the voice on the other end told me they started the next day. I said, "Okay."

Here's the thing. I thought I was going to learn some conversational Korean. You know, My name is. How are you? Where is the Starbucks? Who are you and what have you done with my pants? But to speak Korean you need to know the alphabet, you need to know how to read Korean. So that's what we're doing. Next week we move on to learning words and phrases. So far all I know how to say is "Hello teacher how are you?" and "Goodbye teacher, go with peace." But I also know the alphabet and how to put sounds together. There are a few sounds that we don't have in English but those are actually my favorites, so I practice those ad nauseum.

There are two other "kids" in my class, except they really are kids. Probably in their early 20s. One is an adult adoptee and the other is an American-born Korean. We are totally going to have a kegger after the next class.

Mr. Fits, H. and I will probably wind up heading back to Korea in the next couple of years, and I'd love to be able to have basic conversations with people. But I also feel like that by learning the language, it brings me closer to the culture. You can't learn Korean without learning about Korea. That part is invaluable.

The bonus is that I've been bringing home Korean food for us after class: bulgogi, gobdol bibimbap, chap jae, kimchi. So whatever I don't gain in knowledge, I'll surely gain in pounds.

The Age of Innocents

At H's 15 month check-up our pediatrician heard a murmur. No big whoop, I thought. Until she said, "It's probably nothing, but I'd like you to have it checked out by a specialist."

In the weeks that led up to our appointment, I continued to mostly think it wasn't a big whoop because I know it's common and she probably just wanted to have us check it to be sure. And in the interest of not creating any suspense, I can say post-appointment that it's totally not, um, a big whoop.

H and I went to check out his heart the other day, only he didn't know it. What he thought we were doing was going to play with a radio that was--for some reason--at his level, steal toys from other babies' strollers, and play with the cord to a portable heater. (NOT ON, people, NOT ON. I only let him play with cords of things that are not on.)

When it was finally--after a good hour--our turn, the pediatric cardiologist came out to get us. He listened to the boy's heart. "Yep, he has a murmur," he said. Were there any health problems? Anything he has trouble doing? Anything that I'd seen that troubled me about him? Any history of heart problems in the family?

No. No. No. And I don't know--he's adopted.

"Of course," said the doctor. "Let's have a look at his heart."

And that was when it finally occurred to me that something could be wrong. I put my little boy down on the table, distracted him with a singing-dancing Elmo, and watched as the doctor got his chest ready for an EKG. It was only then that I thought, What if he sees something he's not supposed to see? What then?

On the sonogram machine, I saw an all-too-familiar image: insides lit up in a static-y white light. The doctor showed me what I was looking at: arteries, atria, valves, ventricles, chambers, my son's heart. It was beating fast and loud, like an amplified windshield wiper working overtime.

All those years of ultrasounds, searching for a heartbeat, came rushing back. The heartbeat they show you when the fetus is only a few weeks old is just this tiny blinking thing. An echo of a dot. It's miraculous because it's beating inside you but visually, it's not much to look at. But the heartbeat of a 15 month old is amazing. The hugeness, the detail, the black and white beauty of it. The fact that it's not going to slow down or vanish or merely end up a picture on your refrigerator that you finally take down when you've accepted that it's really gone.   It was a great moment for me just to be able to look--shamelessly and with all the gratitude in the world--at H's heart as it did its work.

In the end, as I promised, there was nothing wrong--no abnormalities or defects. It's called an Innocent Murmur and chances are it will disappear one day. It's common in infants and children and won't restrict him in any way. We're all clear. On the way back from the doctor, I bought H a balloon because he loves them. It was really the least I could do for him after he had shown me his perfect heart.

I'm Back

I'm so out of practice I couldn't even think of a good headline. To recap the last couple of months in 30 seconds or less: worked, ended job, went to Miami with the lean mean walking machine. And here we are. October already. Where did the time go? One minute you're enjoying summer, the next, you learn Katie Holmes is with bump.

The kid is doing great. The tooth count is now at 12. Numbers 13 and 14 are poking through. Walking: forwards and backwards. Running: dangerously fast. Talking: sorta. Freakishly obsessed with: bananas, raisins, feet (other people's), balloons, shampoo bottles, and Cookie Monster. (It's not that he really likes Cookie Monster, it's just the only one of the Sesames he can say. It goes something like this: "Cccccooh. Ccccooh." And then he laughs.)

For Halloween, H. is going to be a lion. A Children's Place lion to be exact. He knows that a lion roars, so rather than having him endure the injustice of being, oh say, a dog (he doesn't know that one), we let him be the animal he knows how to do. (He also knows snake, but I didn't see that on the rack. Nor the owl.) We are hoping that LSP will hang with him in public at the local Halloween parade because I have insider information that she is going as someone who is way too cool to ever be seen in person with a lion. Let's just say he can be one of her groupies. If she lets him.

Also? Look what I saw on our deck yesterday. Need I remind you we live in Brooklyn?

I sent this picture to my husband who informed me this was not a grasshopper but a praying mantis. I think it must be praying for Katie Holmes.