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Last year, I posted this entry about my great-grandmother Louise Lay’s arrival on these shores on this date in 1897. The date has arrived again, so Happy Arrival Day! Here’s a drawing of the Kensington, the ship on which she sailed:

New York shot down gay marriage rights today (read the New York Times article). In response, Rochester’s progressives met in historic Washington Square Park downtown to grieve, shout and plan for tomorrow. Here are two images from today’s events:

Our three-year-old son, Bernie, has reached another milestone. Ever since he was a toddler, we’ve been putting him to bed by reading books and then laying with him until he falls asleep. In fact, for the first year or so of the routine, we read books and sang songs.

Two nights ago, I read him his books, and then turned off the light. He gave me a kiss and said, “Daddy, will you leave so I can go to sleep?”

“You want me to leave?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

So I left. He turned over, cuddled under his covers, and went to sleep on his own. He did the same thing last night and tonight. It’s exciting to see, and also nice for us, because it puts us back on adult time much earlier. We still have the nice ritual of snuggling and reading books, but he’s comfortable enough now to stay by himself in his room while he falls asleep.

I was talking to a good friend the other day who mentioned that kids seem to go through a developmental leap each spring. She’s seeing it with her daughter, and we’ve really noticed it with Bernie. I ascribed the change to John’s birth. I figured that maybe Bernie just decided to act more like an older brother. Whatever the reason, he’s certainly becoming more grown-up by the day.

When you have your first child, you’re deluged with cliches about how fast the child will grow up. As much as you think you’re ready for it, you’re not. Bernie has gone from a five pound preemie to an active boy in the blink of an eye. It didn’t always seem like a blink along the way, but it sure seems that way now.

Today is Jen and my 10th wedding anniversary. Ten years ago today, Jen and I were in the foothills of the Tucson mountains with my grandparents Dot and Bernie Flanders, my aunt Linda and uncle Richard, my two cousins Tammy and Todd, Jen’s brother Sandy, and our friends David Gordon and Priscilla Havlis. We were married by a justice of the peace in front of my aunt and uncle’s house on a beautiful Sonoran Desert afternoon.

The wedding party was small because we were planning to travel back east for two receptions — one in Pennsylvania and one in upstate New York. We got married when we did because were about to move overseas. Or so we hoped.

A small wedding was a fantastic idea. David (my best man) and I had a relaxed morning before the wedding, stopping at Baggins Sandwiches to eat a little food and chat. Then we headed to Michaels Crafts and bought some ribbon to string between chairs so we could create a little aisle to walk down for the wedding. Jen and Priscilla made some flower arrangements at my aunt and uncle’s house.

Shortly before the wedding, Dave and I arrived at the house to change into our wedding clothes. I wore a vintage 1930’s blue pinstriped wool suit. Yup — a wool suit for a desert wedding. That’s macho! And stupid! Jen wore a beatiful cream colored silk outfit with a sleeveless blouse and pants. Her hair was long and flowing and she looked gorgeous.

Dave and I set up chairs for the guests, and hung the ribbon from the chairs to make the aisle. We also set up a semi-circle of rocks, inside of which Jen and I stood during the ceremony. Dave is an artist, and he actually made my gold wedding band. Jen’s wedding ring was a family heirloom given to me by my mother.

We walked down the aisle to a Yo-Yo Ma/Bobby McFerrin tune from their album Hush. The JP did his thing, and we said our vows. Mine included a verse from the song “Sweet Lorraine” — When it’s raining I don’t miss the sun / For that’s when my baby smiles. / And to think that I’m the lucky one / Who will lead her down the aisle. I’m not sure whether Jen heard any of that, because she cried throughout the ceremony. I tried not to take it personally.

Following the ceremony, I walked over to the JP with a check to pay him for his services. He said he only took cash. Dave overheard and went in the house to ask my grandfather whether he had any money. Grandpa came up with the $75, and I avoided going to jail, or whatever happens when you don’t pay the JP.

Then it was off in my grandparents’ white Chevy Corsica (complete with cans hanging off the bumper and the traditional “Just Married” sign) to La Indita, a great Mexican restaurant in downtown Tucson. The whole gang was there, and we had a great dinner on the outdoor patio behind the restaurant. The patio was surrounded by vine-covered trellises filled with singing birds. Dave made a lovely toast, and Jen and I danced our wedding dance to Chet Baker’s recording of “Time After Time.”

When we got back to our apartment (a guest house on Dodge Blvd. that Dave Gordon described fondly as a “hole”), Dave had put flowers on the bed and lit candles around the apartment. Given the dry weather, it’s fairly surprising that the guest house didn’t burn down.

I’m pretty sure that most folks we knew thought the marriage wouldn’t last, but they were wrong. Here we are, 10 years, two kids, five states, and two countries later, more in love than ever.

Everyone is home safe and sound. I brought Jen and John back from the hospital at 9 p.m. on Monday. My sister, Gretchen, came over to stay with Bernie (who was sound asleep). She took some nice photos, which are now over at the Photos section.

John is doing really well. He’s breastfeeding very successfully. Jen is quite tired, but she’s recovering. We’re all just very happy to be home.

I really need to take a shot of John’s feet. They’re huge!

More soon. For now, take a look at the photos.

It can’t be a bad thing when your new boy shares a birthday with Douglas Adams.

And with Bobby McFerrin, Ralph Abernathy, and Lawrence Welk. Wacky!

John is out from under the oxygen tent, although he’s still in the special care unit. Jen is doing quite well. We hope to have John in Jen’s room by late tonight, and we really hope to have the whole gang home by tomorrow (Monday).

For those of you keeping score at home, Bernie was born on 11/3, and John was born on 3/11. Coincidence? Yup, but it’s still kinda cool.

We hope to be able to take John out of the O2 tent to feed him around lunchtime today. And we hope to have everyone home tomorrow.

Jen and I are thrilled to announce the birth of John Flanders Crane. He came into the world at 6:13 p.m. on Saturday, March 11, 2006. He weighed 6 lbs 11 oz at birth.

He’s already taking after his brother — he has a little problem with his lungs, so he’s in an oxygen tent in the special care nursery until at least tomorrow. Bernie had to do the same thing, and he’s completely fine, so we expect to have John with us very soon.

Jen came through with flying colors. She’s really doing well. As for Bernie — he gets to meet his new baby brother tomorrow!

Here are some photos of the day. More details will come in the days ahead.

It was back on February 10 that I wrote a post titled “We almost had a baby tonight.” Here it is, the 5th of March, and we still haven’t had the baby!

As happened with Bernie, Jen’s health has been an issue this time around. Her blood pressure has been quite high, which can be a sign of preeclampsia. So she’s been on bed rest for the last three weeks, which is annoying on its own. Why? Well, no two doctors have the same definition of “bed rest.” Doctor #1 said it meant lying in bed and getting up only to go to the bathroom. Doctor #2 said, “Most of my colleagues would prescribe bed rest, but there’s no evidence that it has any effect, so just take it easy.” And Doctor #3? “Bed rest means bed rest, but you shouldn’t just stay in bed. You can move around.” Got it?

Doctor #3 also made a 9-months-pregnant woman on bed rest wait for 45 minutes in his office until he showed up for our appointment on Friday. We’d already been at the hospital for 90 minutes before that for our weekly tests, too. Good stuff all around.

Not to mention that we picked this doctor (after our midwife plan was nixed) because he’s a family practitioner with an OB specialty. That means that he’ll be the guy who actually delivers the baby, rather than just getting whoever is on call. Except that he’s going on vacation on Friday, so he probably won’t be around when the baby’s delivered after all. If we’d had this doctor for the whole pregnancy, that might just be the luck of the draw. But we didn’t even get this guy until two weeks ago, and he knew he’d be on vacation.

This whole thing just needs to end. A nice, healthy baby. A happy, healthy mommy. And a less stressed me.

All that said, it’s still fantastic that the baby has had three more weeks in the womb than we expected. It’s over 7 pounds now, which is also really great. Bernie was 5 lbs 15 oz, and he was three weeks early. At this point, Baby #2 isn’t technically premature (just two weeks early), and the baby’s weight is fine.

Who knew having a baby could be so challenging? What’s that? You say everyone knew? Oh.