(photo) Makin' faces. 

Dis and Dat

Aaron is back on day shift, which means that for four consecutive days he will leave before Adrian is out of bed and return after the wee one has gone to sleep. It's like a vacation! Except he's at work.

So that means that we get to see exactly how long it takes for Adrian to become bored with my antics. We've already reached the stage where anything-that-is-not-a-hat-but-is-worn-as-one is no longer funny. The humor has also drained out of Mummy-wearing-Adrian's-clothes....

One thing that Adrian is doing that I find entertaining is demanding to know the names for things. Specifically while in the bath. Specifically body parts. He knows every part in order to do the head, shoulders, knees and toes rigmarole. He knows ankles, elbows, belly button. And he knows penis. He knows exactly where it is whether he's in the tub or fully clothed. You can ask him "hey, where's your penis?" and he'll point right at it. No hesitation, no thought required. It's the kind of party trick that's funny now, but won't be so charming when he's 6. Or 16. Or 26.

This is why parents pay for therapy, isn't it?

In which Good Sense wins.

Lately Adrian has taken to exploring the drawers in the bathroom under the sink. I've already had to move my drawer full of essential bathroom goodies (make up, waxing strips, sunglasses with rhinestones) into the bedroom because I'd rather suffer the inconvenience than baby-proof the bathroom. Also, he still feels the need to follow me into the bathroom and I need something to distract him from the toilet paper and flush-handle. So, on occasion when his toys have lost their luster, we wander down the hall to the bathroom where we play the game: hand things to Mommy. He opens a drawer, picks an item at random and hands it to me. I say 'thank you'. Repeat until drawer is empty.
This morning, we wandered into the bathroom opened the drawer full of band-aids and medical tape, opened a box of band-aids and put every.single.one.on.the.floor. Then he picked up each band-aid, examined it carefully, and placed it either in the box or in the drawer. I'm not sure what his criteria for placement was, but he was picking up his own mess! And enjoying it! Half way through, he discovered a band-aid of smaller size nestled in the box with the standards and handed it to me, puzzled. I took the band-aid in my hand, separated the pull-tabs, and had a flash back to 1984: I was sitting on the floor of my parents bathroom, opening an entire box of band-aids, one by one, and placing them upon my skin until I ran out of empty space.
I slid the tiny band aid into my pocket and declared "all gone".
Disaster.
Narrowly averted.

(photo) A bite for you. 

Challenge accepted

Here's to Sarah, for passing along the meme wherein I tell you 5 ways in which Adrian is weird.

Number one: He loves to share. I know that you're thinking "aw, how sweet", but the things he loves to share are usually half-eaten food bits covered in drool and other half-eaten food bits. Not so much sweet as incredibly messy. Well-intentioned, but messy.

Number two: He loves to take a bath. He will sit in an empty bathtub after the water has drained out he enjoys it so much. It's not the bath toys, which he ignores; or the actual washing, which he tolerates. It's the water and the big white bathtub.

Number three: His fashion sense (which I'm fairly sure he inherited from me). Adrian's favorite outfit consists of :the pumpkin costume from Halloween, snow boots, and a headband with cat ears on it--also from the Halloween bin. He enjoys his pumpkin suit so much that I can't just put it in the dirty laundry hamper because he fishes it out and demands (as much as a 13 month old can demand) to wear it the next day.

Number four: His favorite movie is "Elf", starring Will Ferrell. He asks for it by name...although he calls it "Alf". I'm not sure what about the movie appeals to him, but he'll watch the first 45 minutes straight through and then he comes back when the characters sing.

Number five: He has an obsession with buttons. If there is a button on an object he will point to it and declare "buh" (I keep hoping it will turn into "butt"). He will then proceed to push the button 50 million times per second to see if anything will happen. He got a hold of the remote control the other day and nearly deafened the entire neighborhood--first with the volume up button, then with his wails of protest when I wrenched the magical plinth of buttony goodness from his chubby determined hands. This fascination has led him to "call" people on my cell phone...so if you got a heavy breathing call the other day, sorry about that.

So there you have it: five reasons why Adrian is weird and why I wouldn't trade him in for anything.

Pass the Kleenex

It's a house full of sickies! (Not to be confused with sickos)

Aaron and I have a bizarre mucusy ailment and Adrian is running a small fever and requesting to go to bed. If the fever didn't give it away, the near constant sleep and desire to return to sleep are a sure tip off.

Other than being puny and feverish, Adrian has developed a brand! new! skill! Which he will use ad infinitum to drive me mad.
He rolls his eyes.
It first surfaced when we were in the car on the way home from the grocery store. He was getting fussy so I turned around and said that we were nearly home and he looked at me, rolled his eyes up into his head and sighed. It was like he was the worlds tiniest 13 year old. Comical, but at the same time sounding the gong of doom.

(photo) It's not a parachute, that's for sure. 

Now paging...

Teeth 5 and 6 are scheduled to make an appearance any day now. They're sitting on either side of his two top teeth and they're driving him mad. Bang-his-face-into-the-floor-crazy.
Making him almost as crazy as me. Why the insanity you ask? Because my baby still doesn't say Mama. He'll say Dada, baboo (balloon), appem (apple), crak kur, ba nanm, and cak (cat). But not Mama. And it's not because I don't refer to myself in the third person. I do it all the time. So much so that it's often hard to stop once Adrian's in bed for the night.
What gives?
Do I not need a name? Am I merely one step closer to enlightenment now? Next objective: relinquish all worldly possessions...

(photo) Ahoy to Uncle Austin! 

(photo) An Adrian-sized tree. 

Blah

I have a case of the blahs.
A specific case of I'd-rather-waste-my-time-in-front-of-the-TV-than-do-anything-else inertia.
Maybe it's the weather.
Maybe I'm lazy.
Maybe I'm rebelling against self-imposed deadlines...You are not the boss of me! I am the boss of me and the boss says "chill, Winston".

There's also this thing where I dislike it when Aaron works nights and I'm here with out anyone to talk to...or at...or whatever. I get lonely and then I get punchy and kind of freaked out. I'm that lady who's always whipping the curtains open to glare at whomever is on the other side. Because something could happen!

This is why I do not partake in any activity that is designed to be scary. I stay scared much longer than necessary. Years, sometimes. I'm sure this is all indicative of some malfunctioning coping mechanism, but that doesn't help me stop doing the nervous dance.

Shuffle--shuffle-sliiiiiiiide.
*Jazz hands*

Sleigh bells ring...

Holy crap--is it cold outside! My little fingers and toes protest muchly.
It snowed here Wednesday (Thursday?), and I took Adrian outside to muck about in the snow. He was wearing many layers, plus snowsuit, hat, and mittens. I was wearing my jammies, ski jacket and a hat. It was one of those days where I was going to shower but then I realized that my other bra was dirty and I was supposed to wash it but never really got around to it. I've been wearing the same two nursing bras for over a year now, and I keep saying I'm going to get another one, but clearly that hasn't happened. The plan is wear one, wash one, but sometimes I forget and it seems silly to go out and buy another one when I'm going to start weaning Adrian any day now. Really. Okay, so maybe not any day now, but definitely sooner rather than later because I have a drawer full of perfectly good non-nursing bras that I could wear in a variety of colors (none of which match the no-longer-white of the bras I am currently sporting). Advice to moms the world over: buy more than two nursing bras. And if you happen to be buxom, good luck finding one that fits properly. Who's the yahoo that decided that only small-chested women need nursing bras? It's bad enough that we have to carry around 5 pounds of chest before we're pregnant, but at least then there are undergarments to hold things in place and offer proper support (with reinforcing and space-age technology); but then we have to carry around leaky milk-machines and there isn't a nursing bra that can keep them covered and supported at the same time. I've been slouching for a full 13 months and I fear I may be permanently shorter because of it.
Stand up straight, you say? Okay, but then I'm in danger of toppling over backwards from the weight perched awkwardly on my chest.

Maybe I'll just lay on my back and scootch around that way. I won't be able to reach the cupboards, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

(photo) Thanksgiving fun 

Alive and well-fed

We've returned to our humble abode in the Chicago 'burbs. Thanksgiving was good. In attendance: Nina, Gary, Erica, Myself, Adrian, Anna Mae, Ed, Ernie, Dick, Cheryle, Rick, Elaine, Jeff, Nick, Alex, Barb, Dave, Cameron, Kennet, Shanna...I think that's everybody. If I left anyone out I offer you a million apologies. There were a lot of new faces and I was completely obsessed with keeping Adrian on his sleep schedule.

I promise to be verbose and funny next time. Right now I'm in desperate need of a shower.

Family is cool

Heya!

I am about to suffer from family-overload. I just got back from a week at my parents. (Wherein I convinced my cute mom to start a blog because it is easy-peasy to do) Then on Monday my sister-in-law Erica the wee showed up and we've been shopping and playing chase the baby and it's been grand. And tomorrow, Adrian, Erica-the-wee and I will drive to Rock Island for a Thanksgiving feast that will include 12-15 persons; none of whom will be my husband as he has to work. I've already made sweet potatoes to knock your socks off and pecan tarts...I don't know that the tarts will make it though.
We've all been surreptitiously swiping them from the kitchen...call it the first casualty of Thanksgiving.
Also! VeryMom and Petite Banane have new baby girls and it makes me miss the tiny, cuddly bundle that was Adrian 11 months ago. sigh. babies!

Did you miss us?

Here we are!

I don;t have pictures to show you yet, but I'll tell you that we had a fabulous time and that I learned a few things.

1. Adrian should only be allowed to fly in the mornings. This is out of consideration for fellow passengers and my sanity. We flew home last night, dangerously close to his bedtime, and half way through the flight he drops a deuce. That's right. Cruising altitude, recycled air, changing poopy diapers on an airplane. In my efforts to stick to Aaron's night-shift schedule I completely neglected the fact that Adrian is an afternoon pooper.

2. No matter how many times you say "no"; the dogs will still get more than their fair share of Cheerios or goldfish crackers. At one point Blaze was so excited by the prospect of treats from the high chair that he actually ate broccoli.

3. Naps are no fun anywhere. But I am now a slave to the nap schedule. I may even be a cult follower of the nap schedule.

4. One week isn't enough time to see everyone that I know who lives within driving distance of DC. So sorry, guys! I promise you're on the top of the list next trip.

5. My parents need to buy a car seat. Ours is still sitting on the tarmac at Dulles.

More later, dears!

Ready. I'm ready. Are you ready?

Ha!
I am (mostly) packed up for this trip. One suitcase for myself and the small fry.
We'll be gone for one week. Posting may or may not occur from Arlington.
It's hard to say with these things.
I simultaneously love and hate travel. I love the part between the actual travel bits. I don't really like the airport, I have a hard time sitting still for flights and I hate packing.
I always forget something, so I always have that I'm-forgetting-something feeling; which is nauseating to someone who makes as many lists as I do.
I make lists about lists. It's very satisfying, seeing everything all arranged on paper.
Which is completely different than my housekeeping style: not-quite-chaos.
But that, dear friends, is another story for another time.
ta!

Anxiety sets in.

I am flying to Arlington the day after tomorrow.
With Adrian. The boy-who-will-not-sit-still.
Just me and Adrian.

Can't breathe.

seriously.
What if he screams the whole flight?
What if he suddenly develops motion sickness and vomits all over us and anybody within a 3-foot radius?
What if he frees himself from my grasp, goes running down the aisle, is mistaken for a hijacker and get arrested by an undercover air Marshall?
Will I have enough money for bail? Do they send toddlers to Guantanamo Bay?
No, but they probably send moms.
Ooh...A vacation.

What time is it?

Boy it seems late.
Adrian has been in bed for over an hour now and it's not even 8 pm. Before we started this whole sleep-training business, I'd usually still be chasing his turbo butt all over the house wondering when he'd calm down so I could get him to sleep.
Our new pediatrician recommended this book, and it's made my life wonderful again. I love the pediatrician, I love the guy who wrote the book. I only wish I had read the book about 7 months ago.

I love Adrian, but his sleeping habits had become a nightmare. He would only nurse to sleep and refused to be put in his own bed. So he wound up napping on the living room floor, and sleeping in our bed. Which means that I was literally hovering over him 24 hours a day. I figured that I really couldn't leave him unattended during his naps. Getting up to pee at night became a real challenge, as he wanted to nurse as soon as I started to get out of bed. I was miserable. I had a baby attached to my side for 23 1/2 hours a day. The only time I had to myself was a 1/2 hour shower. But now! I have seen the light of early bed times and regular, scheduled naps, and we are both much happier people.
I realize that all of this will unravel as we travel to Arlington, but I know that it is possible to accomplish, ergo it should be possible to re-accomplish. (reaccomplish?)
I've also noticed that Adrian is nursing less, and requesting to nurse less often. It's possible that we may be seeing weaning in the near future as well. Although I'd like to hold off on that until I can get him to drink whole milk. Right now he takes it in his mouth and then gives me an open mouthed smile and lets the milk run down his chin.
He's so charming.

You know you're distracted when...

you try to remove a cookie sheet from the oven without oven mitts.

dumb. dumb. dumb.

and also, ow.

(photo) Adrian putting on a show for his birthday audience. 

To grandmother's house we go...

Here it is, the much anticipated trip-to-the-East Coast with the baby out of my uterus.

In mid-November, Adrian and I will be traveling to Arlington, VA to visit with my parents for a week. Anyone who wishes to see us while we are there can email me (karacrafts(at) gmail(dot)com), and we will set something up. I would like to stress that the purpose of this visit is to give my parents time with their grandson. (Translation: we will not be leaving the DC metro area during our visit. If you are beyond the reach of the Metro system, then you must come to us)

Also, I'm very excited! I love Arlington in the fall. I am a bit nervous about Adrian and my parents' dogs. These are big dogs, and Adrian has really only had experience with small dogs. Hopefully they won't scare the bejeesus out of him.

Yay!
Arlington!

Update: 12 months!

Happy Birthday, Baby boy!

Wowee. You made it one whole year. Nice going.
First, your stats:
Height: 28 1/4 inches
Weight: 22 lbs 4oz

And let me tell you, I am feeling all 22 pounds when you hang off of me like a monkey.
your annual check up went well, you seem to be hitting all of the bench marks for gross and fine motor skills, your language comprehension is good.
Now for the bad: you're a little behind on your verbal development. The pediatrician said not to worry unless you hit 15 months and still aren't saying "mama" or "dada". What's with that, by the way? 'Balloon' you'll say, but not our names?
This year has been so busy--it hardly feels like 12 months have passed. I can't believe that you were so new and tiny such a short while ago. I have loved this time that we've shared, with the exception of the sleep problems and the fact that you treat diaper changes as an excuse to scream bloody blanking murder. To be honest: the sleep problems are almost entirely my fault as I cannot seem to set a routine for you and I'll let you sleep just about anywhere so long as you sleep. This has, however, put a huge dent in my time, especially now that your Dad is working 12-hour shifts. So my goal for the new one-year-old you is to get you to sleep in your own crib and get you to sleep without having to nurse to sleep.

I have really enjoyed watching you grow and develop into this funny little person with likes and dislikes. I love that you now bring me things to look at: rocks, blocks, books, carpet fuzz. The world is endlessly fascinating to you, and I love that you want to include me in your explorations. I love your funny four-tooth grin and the way you scrunch up your face at things that you find silly. I love that you eat table food, and that you have a particular fondness for fruit. I love that you dance, and that you'll dance to anything--commercials, the musical interludes on NPR, lullabyes. I love it when you rest your head on my shoulder as I sit on the floor before you run off to explore something new.

Your birthday party was quite the event, sweetpea. In attendance were your Aunt Erica, Nana and Grandpa Flecker, Maemae Cherlye and Grandpa Dick Puetz. You were showered with gifts and phone calls from people who couldn't be here, but sent their love. You were quite the entertainer for your audience, and they all loved it. You were funny about opening your presents--you didn't want to tear the wrapping paper. We helped you tear into one but you pulled your hand away and wiped it on your pants as though you had touched something distasteful. You're a weird kid--further proof that you're definitely a member of this family.

Happy birthday, baby boy. We all love you so much.

I can't imagine my life without you, and I wouldn't want to.

Love,
Mama

Tomorrow!

Tomorrow! It is Halloween!
And what you should be reading here now is how much wonderfun* Adrian is.
But I am tired and my throat is a little scratchy. Come close and I will breathe my germs on you!

So I am going to bed. But first I must brush my teeth. Because I am obsessed with having clean teeth. It's one of those things...whatdoyacall'em? Neuroses. Yes.

That's the ticket.

*sometimes my brain makes odd contractions. This was one of my favorites. another good one is hummo (a hummer limo)

Moral Dilemma

I'm stuck between wanting to do right by the planet and wanting to minimize the amount of ungodly fussing that occurs during diaper changes. Right now, we're using Seventh Generation brand diapers--they're earth-friendly and they work wonderfully. But I am beginning to believe the marketing hoopla that surrounds those pull-on diapers.

hmm...Convenience versus a less-toxic future planet.
I guess it's not really a contest, is it?

(photo) A good day. 

Me, me, me!

Okay, so I know I started this little bloggity-doo-dah to keep far-flung-family abreast of Adrian's milestones and what have yous. But I am going to take this post and talk about me. And you can't stop me! (But if you're so inclined you can leave. No hard feelings. Except I'm watching you and I know who you are.)

So!
Me!
Yes indeed. Adrian has been here for nearly a year now and I wake up on a regular basis with the thought: Holy shit. I'm someone's mom.
Now, I know how to do all those basic baby-care essentials thanks to YEARS of baby sitting and I have a pretty good idea of what a mom should be thanks to having a really great role model (hey ma!); but seriously. I'm someone's mother. I'm responsible for the socialization of another human being. I have to make sure that he eats and sleeps and wears a coat when it's cold outside. And a hat. Although getting Adrian to wear a hat is a full-on battle royale. He's under the impression that it's some kind of game: I put this thing on his head and he takes it off. We've played at this for 20-30 minutes before I give up, frustrated and ready to bang my head against a wall.
I'm not sure where I got this idea but I thought that when you were a grown-up you'd wake up one day and feel different. That's a big negative. And again, for some reason I thought being a mom would make me feel different. I feel tired, I feel stressed out, I feel awed as I watch Adrian grow and learn, but I'm still pretty much the same person. Minus the going out for a drink and a night on the town bit.
Also, you think I would have figured this out before now, but Moms don't get a vacation. Saturday? Sunday? Just two more days of the week where you feed, clothe, wipe noses and bottoms. There's still laundry, and dishes, and vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms. Except now it's American-Gladiator-style, because you're doing all of those things with a tiny person hanging off of your legs or arms.
Which is to say:
This is hard. This is work.

Hands down the most difficult job I've ever had.
So you'll have to forgive me if I get a crazed look when you ask me when we're planning on having another one.
Because, seriously? Two? Are you out of your mind?

here y'are.

The bot that I use to post photos is running reeeally slow. So you can go here to see photos rather than checking back later.

Although I'd love to see you again.

Patience, my pets!

Aaron's computer is completely kicking my ass. I can't get it to recognize the camera plugged in to the USB--he'll have to figure it out later. Not now, because now he's watching Adrian so that I get a chance to say hello. (Hello!)
The short of all that is that you're going to have to wait just a little while longer for photos.
You'd think that I'd have amassed a ton of them over the past 6 weeks, but it's difficult to chase a baby and keep track of a camera. Not to mention the fact that every time I bring it out, Adrian wants to give it the once over. I have a lot of pictures of his hands and his forehead.

What you may have missed

Oh! SO many things have happened in the past six weeks, dears.
Adrian has four tiny teeth, and he grinds them..Incessantly. It's my new least-favorite noise. It makes my skin want to crawl off of my body and hide under the bed.
We've also discovered the "joy" that is separation anxiety. And let me say "whee". There's nothing quite like taking a shower while your child screams at the door...Except perhaps having a two-and-a-half foot bathroom attendant.
On the amusing side of things, Two-ton-Tony has discovered that he can put his finger in his nose. And he does. All the time. While he's thinking, while he's watching TV, when he's mad.
It's a sight to behold.

And now I have to go because Aaron's working night shifts now and needs to go to bed.

More on that when I can steal a few minutes.

Home again, home again

jiggity jog.

well, we're back online! It's only been a month and a half, and my inbox was obscene. Thanks to everybody who listened when I said "I don't have internet so don't send me anything".
The rest of you yahoos got my email account temporarily closed.

But everything is now fixed and I am online and photos will be forthcoming.
Our new house is super cute, and I like it a lot. It reminds me of my parents' house--it was built around the same era (post WWII), and has a nice flow.
In between crying over the fact that the movers threw out ALL OF MY PAINT, and laughing at the antics of my sweet little boy I've been very busy.
Adrian now has four teeth (two top, two bottom), and his vocabulary has expanded to include "baboo" (balloon) and "bac" (vacuum). His all purpose word is now "bah". It means: bird, bath, truck, ceiling, pictures, baby, and 'hey, let's go over there'.
But first I have to go and see what I missed in everyone else's life in the past 6 weeks, starting with Sarah, as she is about to pop.
I am experiencing a warm glow as the internet-shaped hole in my heart is being filled.

Update: 10 months

Dear Adrian;

You are now 10 months old. This happened two days ago, with less fanfare than usual as we are getting ready to move to the Chicago 'burbs.

This past month your vocabulary has developed into 2 whole words: 'hi' and 'up'. Sometimes 'up' means 'up' and sometimes it means 'hey, look over there', and occasionally 'up' means 'cat'. I'm not going to complain because at least you're trying.

Another fun development is your attempts at walking unassisted. You're now taking 4-5 steps before you plop on your bottom and crawl the rest of the way. This whole crawling thing is delightful to watch, but a real nuisance as you seem to be rocket-propelled when we turn our backs. This past week I've caught you trying to eat paper, leaves, and a bug when you thought we weren't looking. You're at the point now where everything new gets the full 5 senses: first you look at it, then you pick it up, then you shake it to see if it makes noise, then you bring it to your face, pause, and try to stuff it in your mouth. Keys, hairbrushes, cell phones, cat food--you'll try anything at least once.

Oh! Also, what is with your new sleeping schedule? Since when did you get the idea that it is okay to wake up before 6 am? Who told you that? Just because Granpa is up at 4, doesn't mean that we all have to get up. This morning you slept in until 6:15 and I was grateful.
Never in my whole life did I think that I would consider 6:15 sleeping in.
You are ridiculously cute when you awake. You nurse for a while, and the you say 'up' repeatedly. If we don't hop to, you then proceed to climb all over us and pick at our ears, noses, and eyes. You're our little monkey-baby.

Our new home is just down the street from a playground, and I look forward to watching you explore all of the equipment as you grow. Your father and I have gone and admitted that you are our primary concern, and we have chosen our new home with you in mind. We're excited to start a new chapter in our lives, and we're so glad that you'll be a part of it.

We love you little man.

Love,
Mama

Back by popular demand!

Now that you know that the house has an exterior, let me tell you about the interior:
It inhabits an alternate dimension straight back to the time when Betty Crocker was the creme-de-la-creme of all things and every family meal included some kind of jello-salad concoction.
Which is to say: it's old school and it rocks.

3 bedrooms, 1 bath, rectangular living room, and a kitchen with brand new sink, dishwasher, gas stove, and floor. A very clean fridge--possibly brand new but hard to tell.
Full-length basement with built-in bar and laundry room.

I heart my new abode.

In other news:
I now have an Illinois drivers license and temporary license plate. Both were relatively painless procedures--my wallet smarts a bit, but she'll recover.

Adrian is officially 10 months old. I'll get to that next time.

Hooray!

(photo) Soon-to-be home!

We found a home!
Move in date: September 1.
Yay!

Now we have a ton of crap to take care of before Thursday.
Boo!

More later.

Like hunting, but without the death-bit.

(photo) Give me the camera!

So, tomorrow Aaron & I are driving to Chicago to meet with a realtor to find a place to live. For under $1,000 a month. In a somewhat safe neighborhood. In a domicile that isn't falling down around our ears or covered in lead paint or was recently used as a flophouse, whorehouse, or similar. In or near Chicago Heights.

We've decided that our main concern is finding a house that isn't equipped with the likes of the baby-killer-2000. Someplace that is easily adaptable to all of the needs of an almost toddler, namely doors that he can't open and floors that aren't covered in broken glass and rusty nails.

We're so demanding.

(photo) Be-yoo-tiful jar from dirt mall. Hooray for dirt mall! 

Moving is crap.

So, Aaron and I figured out why poor people don't just up and move.

We sat down and did the math and when all is said & done, it's gonna cost us about $5,000 to relocate to Chicago. And that's with the Army moving our stuff for free.

$5,000! That's 125 cases of diapers, or 17,000 individual diapers. That's about 10 YEARS worth of diapers.
Clearly I enjoy playing with the calculator a little too much.

I have to go lay down until I'm no longer overwhelmed at the prospect of spending $5,000 to move to Chicago.

Holy crap.
$5,000.

(photo) Going for a walk. 

Bah!

Yes, bah!

Anybody know the name of a realtor in Chicago?

Tomorrow, Aaron plans on accepting a job there...Unless they want him to work for peanuts. Literal, actual, dug-from-the-ground peanuts.

In the interest of not getting my husband dooced preemptively, I'll just say that the job is a with a company that deals with vehicles that have wheels and those particular vehicles are frequently seen traversing the many highways and byways of the USofA.

Also:
Chicago!
Whee!

You know you're a parent when...

You find ossified chunks of partly-chewed graham cracker in your hair.

The library and stuff

(photo) Red-eyed baby

This photo has nearly nothing to do with this post, but so many of you have told me you enjoy the photos, so here you are. I aim to please.

The other day we went to the library, and I picked up a book on teaching your baby to sign. Adrian has already picked up one sign. The sign that means "eat". We're trying to interest him in the others, but he gives me a look like "crazy lady, I have no need for these ridiculous hand gestures so cease and desist with the pantomime"
But this story is more about my love of the library. I'm bookish. I've always been bookish...I remember going to the library with my mom when I was in elementary school and checking out the maximum amount of books (ten) on Saturday, and by Wednesday finishing them all. I have memories of being chastised by teachers for reading during class. And there were numerous occasions when I nearly missed my metro stop because I was too engrossed in the words in front of me. The library is one of the greatest services that is provided to the general public. I love the endless rows of books, and that particular library smell: books, carpet, and toner.
One of my earliest memories is the day that I figured out how to read: it seemed as if the whole world had just unlocked itself to me. After that I would drag a chair out of the kitchen and over to my parents bookcases to peruse their book collection, in case there was anything that might appeal to my little kindergarten eyes. That was how I discovered the book entitled "So that's where babies come from!" I was schooled in the processes of human reproduction at an early age--you won't catch me confusing a zygote with an embryo, no sir.
Lest you think I was all smarts, I also recall the time I snuck an egg out of the refridgerator and nestled it between 2 pillows for 3 days before I learned that you can't hatch eggs from the grocery store.
This post has kind of run away from me so I'm going to sign off.
Later, Internet.

On honeymoon.

(photo) Mike and Annette DeCarlo

Those are my father's parents on their honeymoon in New Orleans. The date, as near as I can figure, is between 1944 and 1947.
I have many more old photos to clean up in Photoshop that I will eventually share with you.

Lovely, thanks!

My birthday was lovely, thanks for asking!

Aaron got up early with the baby, so I was able to sleep in until 8:30 am! It's a wild and crazy existence, but somehow we manage.

Gary & Nina watched Adrian so Aaron and I could go out to dinner. We went to this great Indian restaurant, The Great Indian Restaurant. The food was phenomenal (my tastebuds wept for joy), the service was wonderful, and we got papadams to go. (Mmm, crispy goodness)
Then Aaron & I went to the Barnes & Noble bookstore where I perused many a section, breathing in the lovely smell of books, and purchased a travel book on India. (Are you sensing the theme of the evening?)
We had every intention of going to a Burger King for the purpose of procuring one of those paper crowns they hand out on birthdays, but we didn't pass one on the way home. Next year, I shall have to supply my own crown for the festivities. Last year I wore my sequiny tiara with attached pink fluffy boa, but that's currently in storage. I'm a big believer in ridiculous headwear.

I received a birthday package from my family which included a disc with the photos from our trip to Birmingham. I've been busily working on those photos so I can post them to Flickr. I've done about 40, I've got 30 more to go.

Wish me luck!

RIBCo

Last Friday (same day as our trip to the zoo), Aaron & I went to the Rock Island Brewing Company--a bar known locally as RIBCo--to meet up with his friends from way back.
I really enjoyed getting to meet everyone, hearing stories about their misadventures, and watching Aaron enjoy himself. It was the best time he'd had in a long time.

Thanks, y'all.

ick

whole. peas. in. dirty. diaper.

The zoo

(Photo) The zoo!

Friday afternoon, we went to Niabi Zoo. It was our second trip, the first occurring in June. The first time we went, Adrian was interested in the birds, and the birds only. I imagine that was because the birds were the only animals we saw moving. But that's what happens when it's the middle of the day and it's hot.
Adrian got a lot more out of it this time. We saw elephants, gibbons, all sorts of domesticated animals at the smelly (oh! how it smelled!) petting zoo, wallabys, emu, lions (and lion cubs!), and, well, you get the idea.

Adrian especially enjoyed: the llama at the petting zoo, the river otter, the fish in the aviary--yes, that seemed weird to me, too--and the carousel that played calypso music. The way the otter exhibit is set up, you're pretty much face-to-face with the otter through a big window. The otter would make that squeaky-whistling noise they do, and Adrian would wave and say "Bub!" (We decided that the otter's name must be Bob.) Adrian watched the macaws at the aviary, but was much more engrossed by the fish tank in the foyer. I think we spent the longest amount of time watching Adrian watch the fish. And then the calypso carousel provided Adrian an opportunity to dance--and dance he did. Here's some photos.

As for me, I enjoyed the elephants, the wallabys (is it wallabies?) in the Australian Walk-About, and the bears. The macaws in the aviary scared me a little. They just sit on a perch and eyeball you, like street toughs. There's no barrier between you and them--I assume that their wings are clipped, but it's unnerving to be that close to birds with giant, razor-sharp beaks.

The Australian Walk-About was really neat--it was a large fenced in area, through which a blacktop path meandered. The path was roped off, and wandering through the enclosure were at least 4 wallabys and 5 emu. Nothing but a bright yellow rope between you and them. The whole time I was asking Aaron, 'what keeps the wallabys on that side of the rope?' and 'does this seem weird to you?' There was a keeper present, to discourage imbeciles from crossing over the rope, but it seems to me that someone is bound to get the bejeezus knocked out of 'em by a wallaby at some point.

That was our field trip for the week.

Join us next week when something else will happen...like my birthday! My birthday happens next week! Tell me you love me, because it will be my birthday and I like to hear that sort of thing.
(End of shameless plug)

(photo) We're going to the zoo! 

Piglet!

(Photo) Behold the snorty pig face.

It's taken me weeks, but I finally have it on film: The snorty pig face.

It has passed through a wide range of meanings, but he's finally using it to convey displeasure. You'll notice he's wearing part of his dinner on his shoulder, after he has ripped off his bib a la The Incredible Hulk.

You wouldn't like him when he's angry.

Trust me.

Adrian Crawls!

(Photo) Adrian crawls!

He decided to go for it yesterday. He does a combination of a crawl, crabwalk, and yoga pose. For more images, you can go here.

A little glimpse of me.

When I started this here blog, I was inspired by the likes of dooce, finslippy, verymom, and suburban bliss. I thought to myself: wow! they are funny! and honest! (Of course I was very pregnant and prone to hysteria, but that's neither here nor there)

But here's the thing, Internet. I don't think I can share my internal monologue. It's unfit for human consumption. To put it bluntly: the voice in my head is not a very nice person. Aaron constantly reminds me of the time we were driving home from the grocery store and I spied an unfamiliar child playing in our neighborhood. The words that sprung, unbidden, from my mouth: Who's that fat kid? Not "hey, I wonder who that is?" or "I've never seen him before". Thank gods the windows were rolled up, as I was instantly mortified.
I honestly believe that the world could do with more nice, so I make an effort to be nice. (Practice what you preach blahblahblah) Some days I do better than others.
So, while I would like to share with you the inner monologue that chatters daily, I am socially conditioned to be afraid of what you might think. Also, some day I may need money from you and I'd hate for you to hold this against me.

To wrap all this up, I'll leave you with a mental image that always gives me the giggles:
Snoop Dogg changing diapers.

Word.

Update: Nine Months!

Dear Adrian;

You've officially been out of the womb for as long as you were in it, and I have to say that this past 9 months have really sped by. Maybe it's just a lack of sleep & catering to your every whim that make it seem that way, or maybe it's because there's so much more to do with you around.

I love that I get to see everything again for the first time through your eyes. This month we took you for your premier visit to the library--I had no idea that libraries could be so funny. Each new turn was greeted with a little gasp of wonder and excitement, paired with excited flapping baby arms. You also experienced the 4th of July and a block party for the first time--not that you saw any fireworks, you were already in bed by then. You are an ambassador for babies: everywhere you go, you spread a little cheer.

On our trip to Birmingham you were wonderful in the airport, on the plane, and while visiting. You met a whole slew of relatives on my side of the family; aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, and dogs. You charmed them all and earned us a few open invitations. You also have a few girlfriends at the security check in the Birmingham airport--you offered to share your graham-cracker-smeared burp rag as a token of your affection.

This month you have become more and more your own little person, which is alternately hilarious and frustrating. We're now entering monkey-see, monkey-do mode; which has led to "so big", sticking your tongue out, and making a snorty pig-face. Your current nick name is Piglet--as the snorty pig face happens when you are excited or just trying to get a reaction out of a stranger. The down side of this personality of yours is that you are stubborn--more stubborn than your father & I combined (lord have mercy on us all). You've also started with the fake-cry-temper-tantrum, but we can dissolve that with the distraction of a book or a toy. I imagine that the older you get, the more work it will be for us to distract you.

You're fully cruising the furniture now, and will look for every opportunity to avoid crawling. You know how to crawl--you've done it 3 times: to the playstation, to the liquor cabinet, and to eat grass--you just prefer to walk. We're trying to keep you from walking all on your own just yet--even though you've taken a few unassisted steps--we don't want to have to babyproof this house as your grandparents have already done their baby-raising.

And you still don't have any teeth. You've managed to consume pork bar-b-que, rice, bread, bratwurst, bananas, peaches, and many other foods without the use of teeth. However, you've had the runs for 11 days now despite what we feed you. The doctor ran some tests and told us not to worry, but we can't help it. Your digestive system has gone from one extreme to the other--just when we thought you'd gotten everything running regular-like. I'm at a loss--your bowels are a mystery to me.

You're 3/4 of a year old, and every day you get farther away from being a baby. You're a funny little person with an agenda of your own, and once you're fully mobile the world will be yours to command--or so you like to think.

We love you, Piglet.
Love,Mama

(photo) Being a baby is exhausting! 

Poor baby.

Adrian and I went to the doctor yesterday morning, due to the diarrhea & diaper rash. She gave us a prescription for the rash and a stool collection kit. So twice today I was scooping poop out of a diaper to put in a plastic vial. And I have to tell you, I came up with a fairly long list of things I would rather be doing. None of them involved poop.
I guess I should be grateful that he's fine otherwise and still his usual jovial self, but I am too tired to be anything but tired. Wee man decided that 5am was a fine time to rise and shine, and did you know that PBS isn't on that early?

More evidence that babies eat brains.

Ahem.
So, we went to Birmingham and here is a list of everything I remembered to pack:

for Adrian:3 sets of jammies, 3 onesies, 1 tshirt, 1 pair shorts, 3 pair socks, 4 bibs, 52 diapers, diaper wipes, desitin (aka baby butt cream), teething ring, 2 plastic blocks for banging together, jingly lion toy,plastic chain, sunshine rattle, 1 book, quilt, lightweight blanket, lamby blanket, plastic spoons, formula, bottle, bottle liners, cheerios, graham crackers, diced peaches, and empty ziplocs for dirty things.
for me: 2 pair pants, 1 skirt, 3 tshirts, 1 lightweight sweater, 3 pair socks, 3 pair underwear, 3 bras, extra pair of shoes, and jammies.

List of things I forgot to pack:
sippy cup.
camera.

That's right. I can remember to pack a jingly lion toy but I can't remember to pack the stupid camera.

Thankfully my brother Jono had brought his digital camera and he promised to send all photos my way. And I will be harassing him via email until he does so.

The trip was good, other than the fact that Adrian had diarrhea the entire time and developed his first-ever diaper rash. In spite of these difficulties, he was a charmer and now has a whole host of girlfriends in the Birmingham airport.

We're back!

Woke up this morning, walked down the dark hallway to the bathroom and stepped into a cold, wet pile of cat vomit.
Mmmm...welcome home.

Leavin' on a jet plane...

I do it myself.

Hello all!

Tomorrow we (Aaron, Adrian, and myself) will get on a plane at 6:15am and fly to Birmingham, Alabama to visit with my extended family. I am very much looking forward to seeing everyone--it's been 3 years since I've seen some of them. I am not looking forward to getting to the airport at 5am with an eight month old baby. I have visions of Adrian pitching fits from here to Birmingham (with a stop over in Detroit)--spreading ill will in his wake. I plan to anticipate the worst and hope to be pleasantly surprised.
We still have yet to pack for our grand adventure--and anyone who knows me well will tell you that waiting until the day before is making me antsy. I dislike packing, I have a tendency to over-pack, and I live with the constant feeling that I've forgotten something (usually my toothbrush). I think that my compulsive list-making all started with the lists for travel, compiled weeks in advance under the delusion that this will make me remember everything essential. I fail to take into account that I am easily distracted and often wind up placing 'items to be packed' in kitchen cabinets as I fix myself a cup of coffee. It's like a scavenger hunt set up by my subconscious.
All of that is really to say that I'll miss you Internet, but I'll take lots of photos and fill you in when I get back.

(photo) Pizza night at Benny's. 

Things what are funny.

(photo) things what are funny.

Hunh.
Well, somehow it's Friday again, and I'm just now uploading the photos from last Friday.
In an effort to get to bed at a decent hour, I have kept myself away from the computer after Adrian goes to bed. The downside to this is that I wind up not posting here, and breaking many a heart (I'm sure). Obviously my gallant plan is in need of revision.

Adrian thinks that wearing his dad's glasses is hilarious.

And now I'm being shuffled out the door for another Friday night of family fun.

More later--don't cry for me, Argentina.

Somber man

(photo) So serious.

Lately Adrian has taken to making the most serious of expressions, which also make him look slightly like a drug-addled teenager. It's very funny to me because he can't yet speak, so I get to put words in his mouth.
"Mother, I am filled with ennui"

Of course, I think knock-knock jokes are funny, so you probably shouldn't take my word on it.

Adrian seems to have an odd sense of humor, too.
Things he finds funny: when Aaron smokes a pipe; throwing rocks; spitting.
We're living a life of high culture indeed.

(I am up past my bedtime! This now fills me with a sense of dread rather than the sense of glee from my youth. Another sign that I'm actually one of those grown-up people.)

(Photo) Good fun for everyone! 

Flickr and me

Hiya!

So, I take A LOT of photos. A Lot A Lot. And there are times when I'd like to share all of them with you, but I am afraid that would slow down the load time of this page and you would decide that it's not worth it to stick around. So, if you're interested in many photos, you can now go here and view them to your hearts' content. Or you can choose not to and enjoy the gentle ramblings of yours truly.

So there's that.

In other news, Aaron and I were driving to the grocery store yesterday and passed a squad car, upon which was written: City of Rock Island Police/Senior Volunteer Patrol.
It was driven by an elderly man in a baseball cap.

And I cursed myself for not having the camera.

In perspective.

Just when you think that your life is terrible because you've run out of tonic water and are unable to make gin & tonics (a tasty treat for mummies everywhere), some crazed fundamentalist asshole goes and blows up the London transit system.
This is one of those moments that makes me wonder how on Earth can I ever explain to Adrian what this (terrorism, war) is all about.
How do you explain this less-than-lovely side of life without terrifying your child?
Right now his language comprehension is such that I can avoid the subject altogether. I envy the fact that his life revolves around bottles, walks, and the dreaded sleep.
Why do we have to grow up and make life so hard?

In Review.

Hello, Internet.

I have been extremely tired of late and I have been using my spare baby-free moments to nap instead of sharing with you. I figured you'd understand. Here is a rundown of what you have missed.

Thursday, June 30:
We took Adrian to visit Grandpa at work, where Adrian had his first display of stranger anxiety. To be fair, it was loud and there were lots of new faces. After that we went to a late lunch at the Olive Garden where Adrian ate 2 coasters (as part of his pre-circus training) and was then so bored with the whole ordeal that Aaron and I had to eat in shifts. One of us would walk with Adrian while the other ate. (Have a baby: Never eat at the same time again!)

Friday, July 1:
I don't remember Friday. I know it was there and I lived through it, but I honestly can't tell you what happened. I changed diapers and fed the baby (oh what a glamorous life I lead).

Saturday, July 2:
Our baby likes pork! We ate ribs, and fed scraps of pork to Adrian as he leaned forward with his baby-bird mouth wide open.

Sunday, July 3:
We attended a dinner cookout thrown by neighborhood friends. Adrian again showed a little bit of stranger anxiety, which was quickly forgotten when he met a man with a moustache. Moustaches are fascinating to our wee man. And that night, I was terrified out of my skin. It's funny now, but not so much then. A play by play, just for you:
5am: Aaron & I are sleeping. There is a cat asleep at the foot of our bed, which is usual protocol for us. I, still sleeping, hear cat fighting noises (which will be explained shortly). Then I hear Aaron screaming--I snap my eyes open and he is sitting bolt upright, eyes wide open--so wide that I can see the whites all the way around his pupils. He looks terrified; so I start screaming--then he screams again--so I scream again--and then he's holding me going "it's okay, it's alright, you're okay". My heart is going a million miles an hour, I'm shaking and completely freaked out. We hear cats fighting all the time, as Ming the Merciless refuses to accept the fact that our cats now live here too. We hear Ming beating up on our cats all hours of the day and night, and usually one of us will just grab the old fleabag and put him outside for the time being. So I thought, when I heard Aaron screaming, he was just trying to get the cats off of the bed so he could grab Ming. But when I saw the look of terror on his face, I was so startled all I could do was scream back. I have never, in all the time I've known Aaron, seen him get scared. He loves scary movies, spooky stories, and the like. Apparently, when the cat fight started, he was having a nightmare and the cats were fighting right on top of his feet, so his dream carried over into this reality.
Our screaming was so loud, Nina stuck her head in the door to make sure nobody was dead and we woke the baby.
Yeah, so that was awful. Funny in retrospect, but you couldn't pay me to do it again.

Monday, July 4:
We went to a block party, watched fireworks on TV and called it an early night. I was still jumpy from the night before, so I went to sleep with the light on while Aaron stayed up talking with his family.

So I guess the big news is that even though I have never been so scared in all of my life, those Kegel exercises really work.

(Photo) Plum-eating baby.