Godfather IV -- the next generation What a perfect day today was. Everything came together in a perfect and beautiful way. It was a small crowd, we were only 20-some people in the church, basically just an extended version of our family. Our families and our friends Devin and Augusta, that is. Or, maybe I should say Don Devin, since he is now officially Hannes's godfather.
The ceremony was short and sweet, with the right people saying and doing the right things. Jessica said a prayer for Hannes, Jenny lit the candle and poured the water for the priest to bless and Devin held Hannes all through the ceremony in a way that can only lead into a major bonding between the two.
And I sat there, next to Jessica, holding her hand and watched all the people around us: My parents looking at me looking at them, Jessi's Dad getting it all on videotape, Jessi's Mom looking at Jessica and Hannes, Devin holding Hannes, Augusta taking photos of Devin, Joel taking photos of Jenny, Åsa reciting a beautiful poem and the priest switching from Swedish to Finnish and back.
It felt as if all the love in the world had come together to this one place, for Hannes, and for us. And everything seemed just right.
So I squeezed Jessica's hand, and took a look at Hannes. And then my Mom and Dad, and smiled. They both smiled back.
And I remembered how I once got skis for Xmas and we tried them out the same night on our backyard, and how Dad dropped me off on my first day of school and how Mom used to come home every once in a while with a bag of candy, with only that one particular sort of candy that I liked, I remembered how we would take long bike rides all around Helsinki on Sundays, how Mom called me up and told me I had got in the university I wanted, and how I ran through the glass door at Dad's work, and hundreds of other small details through the years. And I fought back the tears. The tears of gratitude.
Then I took a deep breath. It was time for my line. I answered the priest: "His name is Hannes Einari."
Trains, planes and automobiles Santa found us! I was a little nervous because you never really know when you move if Santa's going to be able to keep track of everybody. Hannes was also born so close to Xmas so it was interesting to see that his name had also made its way to Santas big book.
As you know, Hannes has been truly nice all year, so it was no coincidence that he got a huge pile of presents. I think he liked all of them since he kept of throwing up on most of the new clothes he got. I think he just wanted to try them all out and the best way to do it was to get them dirty.
Maybe next year he'll be awake when Santa comes.
It has been a pretty busy time for us, with visits here and there, meeting people and people meeting Hannes and so on. Oddly enough, I haven't got all stressed. It is weird, but I think that with Hannes, I got a huge dose of patience at once. We'll take our time to get wherever we're going. Jessica, Hannes and myself. Simple as that.
Although, I have to admit that I lost my temper when we saw our stroller come down the belt at the Arlanda airport tonight. The Finnair dimtwits had probably just thrown it in, and broken it in the process. So, we'll have to buy a new stroller tomorrow.
The Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit of Christmas
So, this is Christmas .. and what have you done? What have I done? My Christmas begins from the moment I hear John and Yoko's song for the first time. Believe it or not, I haven't heard it this year, yet. The fact that John Lennon was assasinated on my birthday has probably made me love the song even more.
So, this is Christmas. For most of the Finns, this is the time of year to go to church - if you're ever going to. But let's face it, for the most part, Christmas has become a feast. It's the time of year you eat well, take it easy and give presents to all your loved ones. But not too much, and you're definitely not supposed to get all worked up about it. That's why this commercial Christmas doesn't bother me at all. I am not worried about people forgetting Jesus. That's just the way we express our love and caring these days. And love? Isn't that what it's all about, anyway?
I like to give presents to people. I really, really do. I thinks it's a lot of fun to try to come up with presents that they like but had no idea of ever even wanting something like it. Not to say that I am all about quality. No, no, I think quantity adds quality. Which means that if I bought a deck of cards for somebody, I would wrap it into 52 separate presents. If possible, I would also make the presents look different from each other.
My Dad's the same. I think - might be just making this up now - that one year I got shoes from him. In two separate presents. (And yes, I could figure it out after I opened one of them, but it was still fun).
Being an only child, I have always got most presents in my family. And I always kinda wondered why Dad wouldn't open his presents right away but just watched me open mine. Now I know. I have a pretty damn good present for Hannes. I just wish he could already appreciate it! But oh, yeah, we'll play with Hannes's presents just the same.
Contact! A small baby, let's say somebody 25 days old, is pretty much on auto-pilot. He cries when he's hungry, by reflex, he eats, he makes a little mustard thing in the diaper when he feels like it, and the rest of the day he's asleep.
And all the while, Jessica and I keep looking at this tiny creature for every single change in the look on his face. And sure, he's got dozens of specific looks. There's the "Man, I need to take a dump" look, the "I think I'm gonna sneeze" one, there's "I need food, and I need it now" look, as well as the "Boy, this Mom person really does rule". And then there's my personal favorite: "Dad, I know you know that I know a lot more than I let on" which is a cute little croked smile and something that looks like a wink.
Anyway, since so much of his life is just reflexes, you can imagine how happy we were last night when Hannes lifted his head and turned it from side to side, depending on where his Mom and Dad were talking.
He can't hold his head up for more than a few seconds, and the turning really does exhaust him, but still..
The Frog King So, we're home again. Hannes wasn't too impressed by those aer-o-planes. He slept through the entire flight.
With no ladies to charm, he just had his complimentary snack (Swedish milk) and went back to sleep. A shame, really, especially since we got to board the plane first of all, and I kinda secretly wanted everybody to see us and look at us and admire us when the three of us walked into the tunnel that led to the plane. (OK, two of us were walking, one of us was fast asleep in a chair).
Nobody said anything about Hannes, which disturbed me at first. He was so cute on the way to Sweden, he stole the show at Jessi's mother's birthday party .. and now this? Now, nothing? Sure, the guy has a few zits on his cheek and yes, his hair is a bit greasy (but we'll wash it tomorrow, I promise) but I thought he was still adorable. If you don't trust me, ask Jessi.
Admittedly, the lady next to me, on the other side of the aisle, did take a glance at Hannes a few times, but she didn't say anything. Not even when we both smiled at her.
Must have been be a language thing. She must have been a Finn that thought that Hannes and I were Swedes.
Why else would she have told her partner in Helsinki, "Check out that little human being there", in Finnish?
And her partner replied, "Yeah, you have to be really careful here not to hit him with a jacket sleeve or something, by accident".
To which the lady said, "It's funny how people that small look like frogs".
I gave Hannes a kiss and covered his ears with my hand.
I'm the Dad Jessica's mother turns 50 today and since all her friends (and relatives) were invited, the house is filled with people. I'm talking packed. Jessica's father is sprinting back and forth the apartment, with an empty coffee pot going one way, and a full one going back. Jessica has been helping out, too, so I have taken advantage of the situation and just taken care of Hannes.
(Really just ducking work, basically, since Hannes is really a sweet and nice boy, and has been sleeping almost all the time.)
Every once in a while, I have then come out from the room Hannes and I have been hanging out in, and shown him off to people. I have carried him in my arms like the prince that he is, and told everybody how nice and sweet he is. What was really funny was that if I haven't had Hannes with me, and I've met people that I haven't ever met before, they would approach me, shake my hand and say, "and you must be the Father."
Yes, I am the Father. That's me. That little, cute boy you may have just seen here with his mother, the daughter of the person you're here celebrating? I'm his Father. I'm the Dad.
And then we just talked about what a nice and sweet boy Hannes is. 'Nuff about the Dad.
Home Swede home I was a little nervous. I know how infuriating it can be to have a crying baby behind you on a plane. All you can do is just grit your teeth and try to turn it into a smile as you peak between the seats. I have been that guy. Yesterday, I was nervous, because I was sitting behind that guy with Jessica and Hannes. And it was Hannes's first trip to Sweden, his other home country. Note: Technically, Sweden is his only home country since if he does have a citizenship (How do you know? Is the King going to send him a welcome card or something?), it's a Swedish one. I need to file a notice somewhere to get Hannes his dual citizenship.
I must have done a pretty good job at hiding my nervousness, since Hannes was calm, cool and collected for the entire trip (40 minutes). Babies pick it up better than dogs and you know how dogs can always tell when you're nervous.
Jessica's father picked us up at the airport. It was the first time he saw Hannes, and you can bet he was pretty excited. How excited? Let me just say that we spent the next 20 minutes looking for his car at the parking lot. I was carrying four bags, while Jessica and Grandpa were combing the parking lot for one green Seat.
Grandpa carried Hannes the entire time.
He wouldn't have let go but Grandma insisted. As did Aunt Jenny. And Jenny's boyfriend. And Julia, Jessi's younger sister. Jessi's brother missed his chance to hold Hannes in his arms 'cause Grandpa wanted to do it. And so it went, all last night. He's got the entire family wrapped around his (beautiful) finger .
Tall order? Hannes is now 53 cm long and he weighs 4.1 kilos. Amazing growth rate. One centimeter and 300 g per week. At this rate, Hannes will be taller than me (170cm) in about 2 and a half years. He'll be skinny, though, as he'll only weigh about 40 kilos.
Funny how happy we are about Hannes being right on the "average curve", he is a perfectly average baby, and we couldn't be happier. You don't want your baby be under the curve and not really too much above it, either. Average is good, average is safe. Average is home.
I was always the second shortest guy in class. I don't know how it is at schools today but way back in the good old 1970s Finland, we were told to always form a line before going to a classroom, in order of height. Boys formed one line, girls their own. So every time we ran back to the classroom door, to form the line, I just had to make sure to stand behind Nicky. I was behind Nicky for five years, from 1974 to 1979. Always there, towering over Nicky, from about 0.5 cm higher up. We were best friends, too.
But nobody else remebers that I was the second shortest. Everybody in our calls remembers surely that Nicky was shortest and Adamsson the tallest, except that Eija was even taller, but she was in the girls' line.
Then in high school, we moved to Joensuu, and I was the shortest guy in class. Finally it was my day in the limelight. Only, we didn't have to form any lines anymore.
Anyway, for now, we're happy Hannes is on that average curve. That's healthy.
He Said, She Said Hannes keeps changing every day. He gets bigger by the minute, and he seems to have left the delvery trauma behind him, at least as far as his looks are concerned. He's beginning to look like a human being.
Which - naturally - leads to the question I hinted at in yesterday's entry: who does Hannes look like? Me .. or Jessica?
Well, this is how we have divided up Hannes's different body parts (top down):
Hair: Volume from Grandpa Eino, style, Grandpa Anders.
Eyebrows: Risto, Grandma Asta
Eyes: Risto/Eino, sometimes like Jessica
Nose: Risto, with a Jessicesque "thing" on it, between the eyes
Upperlip: Jessica
Lower lip: Being negotiated
Chin: Jessica, Grandma Yvonne, with a touch of Anders
Overall shape of face: Risto
Overall body shape: Grandpa Anders
Buttocks: Jessica
Thighs: Risto
Toes: Uncle Joakim
Fingers: Jessica
A perfect blend, in other words.
It was Hannes's birthday 16 days ago. His first, really. Mine is today. My first as a father.
From father to son My Dad's in town to see his first grandchild. Now, if you knew my father, you would probably describe him as "funny, easygoing, tough and timid." And you would be right, but you would miss the fact that he has a very warm heart. So you need to know him pretty well to be able to interpret his gestures and looks. Well, I can and I can tell that he was mighty impressed with Hannes. He's a proud grandpa, simple as that.
He is also the member of my family who has paid most attention to which one of us Hannes looks like most. He looks for all possible Pakarinen traits and begins all his sentences, "You, too, were like that when.." My father is the official President of the Risto Hall of Fame, as he has kept mementos of every single big event in my life. He has kept a lock of hair from my very young head, the first fallen tooth, my first hockey jersey, the brace I had to wear on my leg when I was 5, my Phantom suit from the graduation party, a poncho my mother made out of a blanket she had got in the maternity package, a wooden boat I made on grade 5, all my drawings through grades 1-8, an Ilves hockey support scarf he gave me when I was 9 and he went away for a week on a coach training course and every single newspaper clipping I have ever appeared on. And so much more.
It's now my turn to open the Hannes Hall of Fame. First artifact: a cast molding of Jessica's belly, circa 2002.
Happy birthday, Finland My grandfather, Hannes's great-grandfather, was born in 1914 which means that he was born in a Finland that was still a part of the Russian empire. The previous one. The one with the czar and all. Quite a different country from the Finland that Hannes was born into exactly two weeks ago.
Today, December 6, is Finland's Independence Day. It's the country's 85th birthday.
In the 1912 Olympics in Stockholm, Finland was allowed to send its own team, even though it was still a part of Russia. It was an autonomous great-duchy of the empire, so I guess that justified it. The biggest star of the Finnish team, and one of the brightest stars of the 1912 Olympics was Hannes Kolehmainen who, in Finland, is said to have run Finland onto the map. Hannes K won the gold medal in the 5000m, 10000m and crosscountry events.
Hannes Kolehmainen returned to the limelight 50 years ago when he lit the Olympic Torch at the 1952 Helsinki Olympics.
One helluva Hannes.
We live only three blocks from the Olympic Stadium. I think I'll take a little walk there tomorrow with our Hannes. It's time he gets in touch with his roots. Right?
I would love to write something every day, and I try, I really try. I mean to. Sometimes it's just too damn cozy to lie on the bed and just look at Hannes that I may forget to write. Then sometimes, there's simply too much going on, and I don't even know where to begin. But to your question .. do I ever freak out?
Yes. I freak out all the time. But I freak out in a Finnish kinda way, which is pretty stoic. Freaking out over here doesn't include running or yelling or even crying. Freaking out - with me - means a lot of sweat. You can tell I am freaking out when my light blue shirts turn navy blue.
What do I freak out about? For me, being a father for a newborn, our first, too, means dealing with my own insecurities. That's what I freak out about. I freak out, not because Hannes cries, but because I feel inadequate if I can't figure out why he's crying .. and then make him feel better. It's not the staying up at night part that troubles me at all, geez, I enjoy sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the night, with Hannes on my arms. I love it. What makes me sweat is that I worry about him eating/not eating, not sleeping, waking up Jessica (oh yeah, I worry about her, too), and whether or not I'm doing things right, in general.
So, basically, dear editor's wife, our life is a rollercoaster of emotions right now, ranging from the nirvana we reach when he looks soooo cute to the freakout of self-doubt.
He's always with me. I played squash with the buddy of mine on Monday, and I could feel Hannes in the air. Or maybe it was the sweating that made me think of him?
Hannes Bueller's Day Off What is it with changing diapers that seems so fascinating to everyone? Everybody I know has asked me about it: "Have you changed diapers yet?", "Ok, we'll talk later, I guess you're gonna have to go change Hannes's diapers now," "Well, it'd be nice to see ya, if you have the time with all the diaper changes and all..."
Not many people have asked me what it feels like to hold your own baby on your arms. Or, what it feels like to see Hannes just about to burst into tears (inasmuch as babies "burst into tears") and knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it, or make things better. Except wait. Nobody seems to be interested in knowing what it is like to stand by his bed and just stare at him, and gently touch his cheeks. Not sexy enough, I guess.
Here are some answers: it is an amazing feeling to hold your own baby. Now, Jessica has carried Hannes for nine months, this is my chance to establish a contact with the little guy. And I would give anything to take away the tummyache or whatever it is that makes him cry sometimes, even though we think that everything should be OK.
Changing diapers ... that I can take. If you can fold a piece of paper and stuff it in an envelope, you can change diapers to a baby.
Jessica's Mom is here for a few days and yesterday she and Jessica ventured out to the city, to do some shopping. It was good for Jessica, too, I said, to go out and see some real people and that even though our world has change forever, for the most part, Helsinki still looks the same.
At the same time, it meant that I was left alone with Hannes, for the first time. Jessica fed him before she took off, so that was one less item for me to worry about. All I needed to do, was keep him happy for about three hours. That was my task. And I took it seriously.
So, we began our "guys' afternoon" by watching a little hockey on TV. The game was obviously pretty boring, and Hannes fell asleep halfway through the second period. Not even the Zamboni could wake him up. There I was, lying on the red sofa, with "our Highness" on my stomach. In the third period, I got bored as well, and we decided to go check our email. I had got mail, Hannes not so much. I sang a few oldies for him, while he was staring at me in awe. Then we took a long walk all the way to the bedroom. And then a little shorter walk to the living room. And to complete our tour, we took a semilong walk to the kitchen. Hannes farted. I decided it was time to change him. (And no, that is not a big issue for me).
There was nothing in his diaper. I had, once again, acted too hastily and drawn my conclusions based on too little evidence. Hannes and I decided to watch some more hockey. There we sat for about 15 minutes, when I felt as if somebody was nibbling on my nipple. I was about to ask Hannes if he saw anyone in the apartment, when I realized he was the one making that sucking noise.
That must be one of life's biggest disappointments: to be hungry and realize that the person holding you is a man. Nipples - yes. Milk - no.
Fortunately, Jessica's sister, Aunt Jenny, had taught me the trick of using my pinky as a subsitute-nipple and I managed to fool Hannes. The rest of the afternoon, I sat in that red chair from Konserthuset staring at the VCR clock.
Jessica came exactly 42 minutes (many O Sole Mios) later.
I have no idea where all the songs are coming from. All I know is that I have recently, say in the last week or so, become a regular poor man's Pavarotti. Even better than that, since I am very, very versatile. I not only do opera, I also do old Finnish hits (from the 50s and 60s), I have done covers of the Beatles and Creedence Clearwater Revival and I hum old children's songs.
I surprised myself the other night when I burst into a whispering version of "O Sole Mio" at 4.15 am. I was even more suprised that I actually knew the text, in Finnish, halfway through the first verse. Unreal. I had no idea. The second half I just made up as I went along.
Hannes had no idea it was wrong. He liked it anyway. I think. He fell asleep.
