Springtime!

After weeks of night-snows and slushy rainfall, spring weather has finally arrived And none too soon. We're experiencing serious cabin fever here as we've not been able to take Óðinn Flóki Þorgeirsson outside (and yep, that's his name everyone!) It's recommended that new babie sdon't go out for strolls here in the sub-arctic until they are 4 kilos, and he's just topped 3 a month into waking life. So we still won't be taking walks with a carriage yet, but at least we can feel more comfortable opeing windows and letting some air in knowing he's steadily gaining the extra fat he needs to stay warm by himself.

So, about the name. Most people know who Óðinn is, as in super-god of the Norse pantheon. But Óðinn is also Toggi's father's name. Toggi is formally known as Þorgeir Frímann Óðinsson (remember, the letter Þ makes a th sound), so now we have a Þorgeir-son-of-Óðinn and an Óðinn-son-of-Þorgeir in the family. And a Valentína Jóhannsdóttir (daughter-of-Jóhann) and a María Þórisdóttir, otherwise known as Roff. So none of us have the same last names, and one of us (me) have two! Got that?

About his middle name, Flóki. It literally means complex or knotted. As in solving a mysstery can be flóki, or a ball of yarn can become flækt which is the conjugated version of the word. Historically, the name is associated with Hrafn-Flóki who was supposedly the guy who thought Iceland would be a good name for this not-so-icy island. And then there's Alfreð Flóki, Iceland's premier surrealist, who passed away in 1987. Toggi, as an artist, liked the idea that the name, which we simply like for the way it sounds and looks, references one of Iceland's more intriguing creative minds.

Siblings

Thank you all for your wonderful comments!

Here's a sweet shot of Valentina with her little brother ... he needs a little extra fuel each day bottle-wise, and this time I let her help out.

Got to go...baby's calling!

Portrait

And here is...our little one, as yet unnamed, which I know drives Americans crazy. But here in Iceland many people choose not to reveal the name of their babies until they are christened at two or three months old. We have a "working title" for him, but so far we haven't found a name that sticks to him undeniably. Relatives have opinions about what he should be called, but we simply won't be swayed. He has a proper name, we just have to find out what it is!

Anyway, he's the picture of health at two and a half weeks old, even if he did show a certain impatience by arriving five weeks early (due date: April 23, birthday: March 25). He does all the things newborns love to do, like drink, sleep and make a fuss. He's got us all dancing around his needs, as little ones are wont to do, but we're happy to oblige. He is, after all, so little: five and a half pounds and just under twenty inches long.

We're very pleased to meet this new life, all of us except Mio the cat, who isn't quite sure what kind of creature it is that's taken over his spot on the bed. Mio is actually bigger and much heavier than Baby, and so has been banned from hopping up on the furniture or into our laps...it wouldn't be pretty if he were to misjudge his landing! He's crazy curious and pretty offended that we've chosen to bring a new life into the home, but he'll get over it, I'm sure.

A nurse came today to weight Baby and offer me any support I might need. it's actually vey nice: she'll come by once a week for the first five or six weeks to check his progress as well as my own and the family's - one of the benefits of socialized health care. That and the fact that I didn't have to pay a dime for the care I received before, during and after his birth, nearly three weeks of hospital time between the two of us in total. We've been given an almost overwhelming amount of medical attention, mostly along the lines of preventive care for premature births. The doctors and nurses had to admit though, after a nine day post-natal watch, that he was perfectly healthy (sjö, níu, þrettán) and and deserved to go home, a brilliant decision indeed!