Exploring Georgetown

On Sunday, I took Caleb and Joshua to explore Georgetown. I promised magical staircases and secret doorways, and Georgetown delivered beautifully. We descended the stairs made famous in the end of the Exorcist (a story I omitted to tell the little boys), explored the campus of Georgetown University, and spent a lot of time walking along the riverfront.

There were a few too many people to be comfortable during a pandemic, but we kept our masks on and kept to ourselves.

The highlight for the boys was finding a labyrinth in the park. A labyrinth is supposed to be an Irish tool for spiritual reflection, but the boys had enormous fun playing with it as a maze. We even encountered a breakdancer who danced for us in the middle for a few moments.

At the end of the day, though, all the boys wanted to do was find a playground. We stopped at an empty playground by a church on the way home, and they were perfectly content.

The whole day reminded me that small adventures are still adventures.

Welcome to the world, Caleb Joseph Shinn!

It was a dark and stormy evening.  Well, maybe not any more dark than any other night at 11:30 pm.  And it wasn’t exactly stormy, though it had been raining earlier on that fateful March 2nd.

Caleb smiles during his first full day outside of his mommy.
Caleb smiles during his first full day outside of his mommy.

Lisa had been experiencing medium-intensity contractions for about the past day and a half.  The children (Liam and Clara) were nestled all snug in their beds, while Lisa and I pondered dozens of other clichés in the living room downstairs.  We were 5 minutes from finishing an episode of House of Cards, when Lisa lost her ability to focus on the riveting plot conclusion.  This is when I knew that things were getting serious.  She was timing contractions, and their frequency increased to less than 4 minutes apart with 60 seconds or more duration. (I’ll try to keep the technical terms to a minimum and the jokes/literary allusions dialed up for the remainder of this story.)

Lisa decided to employ the Bradley Birthing Method this time around.  Since we weren’t able to attend a full class, we did the next best thing: we bought the book, and at least one of us read it from cover to cover.  The other one of us (ahem) skimmed a few key sections, but didn’t do as much homework as he probably should have.  But he DID know enough to recognize that Lisa’s sudden switch to a serious mood is one of the emotional signposts of labor.

The car was packed, the mother-in-law/babysitter arrived, and I bundled Lisa into the car for the mile-and-a-half trip to the hospital.  But not before a few intense contractions, which Lisa took like a champ lying on the floor outside the bathroom, on our bed, in the kitchen, or wherever else she happened to be at their onset.

During the 11:30pm trip to the hospital, Lisa felt a pop and asked me to consider violating the speed limit.  I did what any wise husband would do, and gave the pregnant lady whatever she asked for, without question and without delay.  Her bag of waters had broken, and labor was progressing fast toward delivery.  Being Lisa, she was more concerned about ruining the seats in our car than anything else.  That didn’t happen, but it was the first time we’ve had the bag of waters break before reaching the hospital. (Scratch one more experience off the great bingo board of life.)

I made my delivery (which was getting Lisa to the hospital in time).  But only barely.  We were the only parents giving birth at the Adventist Health Family Birthing Center in Reedley that night.  They rushed us into the birthing room closest to the front door, and asked for a urine sample.  Lisa’s look told them in no uncertain terms that this request wouldn’t be fulfilled.  We got her to a bed, but only barely.

Lisa had about two very serious contractions, and let the two nurses present know that she was ready to push.  “But we haven’t even had a chance to check you!” they protested.  But their experience and expertise showed, and they didn’t protest for long.  It was time for action, not excuses, and they rose admirably to the challenge.

When the lead nurse, Tisa, checked the cervix, she raised her eyebrows and said, “You’re ready!  It looks like the doctor won’t be making it to this one.”  She quickly paged him, if only for the sake of formality.

Some minor bed adjusting followed, which allowed Lisa to get into the birthing position she preferred: a 45-degree tilt, which I carefully measured and supervised.  It was the only thing I could control and my only meaningful contribution during that phase.

Lisa’s second push revealed the crown of a head filled with dark brown hair.  Another push of two showed a very blue little face, and then the reason for this: the umbilical cord was wrapped around the little guy’s neck.  The two nurses and I glanced at each other, and, as if by mutual consent, we all suspended our reaction to see what would happen next.  What happened next was another good push, which got his (relatively) broad shoulders out of the birth canal, and allowed Tisa to unwrap the cord from the baby’s head, and also a very blue little arm.

The last of the baby (his curled-up legs) slipped into view like a greased banana emerging from a sandwich bag.  And with about the same drama and oddity.  The nurses quickly set him on Lisa’s shoulder, where he turned pink with the rapidity and effect of a Hyper-Color Shirt. (*5-point bonus for you if you remember these!)

I cut the umbilical cord, severing the baby’s physical connection to Lisa permanently, a process which I expect to repeat in various forms for the next 20 years.  He took a few shaky breaths, and I felt like a father bird must feel when he watches his hatchlings fall from the nest for the first time.

The rest of the process was less tense, especially for the doctor, who strolled in a few minutes later wearing a t-shirt from his alma mater and looking around to see what he’d missed.  There were shots and washings and  measurings (21 inches long) and weighings (8 pounds, 10 ounces) and footprintings and other processing steps, few of which lend to interesting analogy or comparison.

After watching the baby for a while, I came a crisis point.  I couldn’t keep calling him ‘The Baby’ for the rest of his life.  Sooner or later I was going to have to slap him on the butt and give him his name.  I looked at the little guy, and didn’t see the utility in the first of those two steps, so I decided to skip it.  I named him Caleb Joseph, because the other option under consideration just didn’t feel right.  I held him and, in a mini-ceremony that seems like something my dad would be fond of, declared his name for anyone who happened to be around and listening.

Caleb, now possessing a unique identifying moniker, set about working on the next most important thing in his life: getting some food.  He seemed to be reaching out to put anything nearby in his mouth, and seemed especially happy when his efforts paid off.  He latched on right away, and fed like a teenage boy pulling up to a yard-long trough of ice cream.  He manifested his first display of unbounded enthusiasm.  His greed was pointed at sucking and eating, and was therefore excusable.

After all the excitement was done, Lisa and I looked at each other.  “So that’s it, eh?” I asked.  “Yep,” she answered, “we have a baby!”

Clara at 11 Months

She’s growing so fast! Our little Clara is getting to a really fun age. She’s much more interactive – talking, laughing, and giggling a lot. She can say both ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’ now, and she’s clear on which one of us she wants at any given time. She’s still a pretty easy-going little girl, and not much rattles her. It turns out this is a very good quality for a second child to have! Her brother Liam loves to play with her, talk to her, climb into her crib in the morning, and generally play round. He’s one of her favorite people, but he is a little bit rough with her at times. We’ve tried teaching her sign language, but she hasn’t used anything but ‘please’ yet. She’s modified this sign to fit her preferences, and she does this sign with a circular motion of her hand up on top of her head instead of on her chest. Her hair sticks up on top of her head, which is cute and a little funny-looking. She goes to bed pretty easily. All we have to do is lay her in her crib with a pacifier and a blanket, and she puts herself to sleep. Liam STILL hasn’t mastered this art, though he’s getting better. Clara has two cute little teeth on the bottom of her mouth, which she uses to chew cheerios and anything else we give her. She does’t like to be fed, but will eat without hesitation (or notice, apparently) if she has something in her hands to work on or play with. We’re enjoying every stage, and especially this one. Enjoy the picture below, taken by Lisa and Rachel in the studio last week.

Break Time

Yesterday morning we went on a walk down the street–Liam on his scooter (with his helmet, of course), Clara in the front seat of the carriage and Maggie running alongside sniffing at smells that wafted her direction. It was quite a long even though we only went to the end of the street and back. By the time we got home, it was time to cool off and have a break. Liam wanted to take a break with his sippy cup of milk and his sandals close by. He also really wanted to be in the picture with Clara. He is a funny boy!

The picture of Clara by herself is the first time she held the sippy cup by herself. She was so proud of herself.

Her little personality is developing and it’s fun to watch the things she gets excited about, the places she randomly decides to stop and play, and her reactions to Liam. She’s learning to be patient with him when he takes the thing she’s playing with and Liam is learning how to have a toy ready to trade when he wants to take one away from her. Oh, the bumps and happy times of learning how to share!


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New pictures of the kids and me!

Here’s Clara asleep at Ellyce and Vidal’s wedding.



Here’s Liam enjoying what he calls “Daddy Milk”, which is really Keifer from Trader Joe’s. Keifer is a special treat for Daddy, and it resembles milk, so Liam made the logical jump to calling it Daddy Milk.



Here’s a rare picture of me. This is what it looks like when I’m teaching you photography. Lisa is using a wide-angle lens to test the light in the shade of a tree at Ellyce and Vidal’s wedding. When I’m teaching, I often offer myself as a subject without bothering to smile or pose. This leads to lots of bad pictures of me, which are the most common type I have. Oh, well. I guess this one’s not too bad.



Clara’s One-Week Pictures

Clara is opening her eyes a little more these days. We took today (mostly) off work to spend time together as a family. We did, however, spend a little time in the studio making Clara’s one-week portraits. I’m happy to report that she, like her brother before her, does very well in front of the camera. Enjoy her first official portraits!
With love and pride,
Andrew + Lisa

Clara Marie: the Saga Continues

OK, friends, I’ve bowed to the pressure from all sides to keep posting pictures of my lovely daughter on the blog. If you want me to keep them coming, leave comments to let me know that. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll go back to posting about razors. Enjoy!

Clara pictures 2 – Update!

Here are a few more pictures of little Clara Marie! Many people have asked to see Liam and Clara together, and as they’re two of the brightest lights in my world, I’m happy to comply. Thank you all so much for your expressions of love, support and help. Pies are never turned down! Enjoy the photos!