Someone got therapeutically sauced this morning, mode tout-petit. The freshly instituted rule around our house is when the Kid does a face plant on the front sidewalk and scrapes a nice patch of skin off his upper lip, he gets to drown his sorrows in grandparent-made apple sauce.
Friday I looked down to see Jai had discovered and was fiddling with the knobs on the gas stove. Saturday while out for a walk he suddenly and gleefully aimed to veer his little body right out into the street. Sunday he (big surprise) was the one who “happened upon” the forgotten scissors. At a restaurant in the evening he communicated quite clearly that he wanted to get down and explore, then immediately made a beeline right for the nearest uncovered electrical outlet.
This morning I glanced to the side for an instant, then turned back to find a smirking child standing next to me on the couch–not down on the floor where I’d left him seconds earlier.
Pshaw! I scale couches like this when I’m sleepcrawling.
I went to bed not quite sure how to feel about our oh-so-clever teenage neighbor friend commenting over dinner that watching us with Jai was the most effective form of birth control.
Then I recalled how he hyperventilated some time back when he discovered the sopping diaper I left in his favorite pair of Nikes, and I switched off the light and slept like a baby.
Whilst playing test dummy this morning for a kid wrestling with the mechanics of kissing, I had a sudden insight into the evolution of the phrase “sucking face.”
Of a sudden the Boy decided last night to shrug off any supports and stand up all on his lonesome. His parents proceeded to choose that very moment to irrigate their eyeballs a little. Big people are so odd.
After much neglect and a brief dalliance with Facebook, I’ve decided it’s time to come home to the blog. I likely won’t write very much for a while. But I figure I might as well enjoy myself putting a few last words in the mouth of the boyo, before the fast-approaching time when he starts to speak for himself.
Thanks for the forbearance of any of you who have still been checking in over these months. A few things have changed in our lives, which I will write about sometime soon. But mostly we’ve simply been enjoying the developing body and personality of the now 13-month Kid.
Dilemma of the moment is figuring out which of the today’s two memorable events is more uncomfortable:
stepping in a puddle of cat pee on the living room rug (oh yes I just did)
staring at my own face in the newspaper
I haven’t figured out a way yet to send a scratch n’ sniff link, but if you’re interested in checking out the newspaper story for yourself, click here. The man facing the camera is my director, Paul. If you click on the arrow to the right of where it says “1 of 3” above the photo, then click it again when it changes to “2 of 3”, you’ll eventually get to see my shiny noggin. “Read story” right above takes you to the whole article. (For anyone who gets the paper version of the Philadelphia Inquirer, it’s on the front page of section E.)
The poor kid, blessed *ahem* as he is with half his daddy’s genes, turns half a year today. And as he grows he appears to be developing into at least 50 percent goofball. Flying Spaghetti Monster ha’ mercy.
Uncle Jud, uncle Jud, what am I? A brain sucker. What am I doing?
Hey what an exciting day! Jaibird, who our new President had from the word “change,” is practically peeing his pants with excitement. Oh wait, he is peeing his pants with excitement. Excuse me for one moment…
The rule–let’s call it the Rule of Tongue–was no blogging until my ability to string words together reached a level higher than that of my preverbal child. Unfortunately the wait for my foggy brain to reconnect with its polysyllabic word center made for a pretty lengthy silence.
It’s been 101 days since we marked Javid’s 2nd birthday, and 100 on the nose since the shit hit the fan.
Yep, you heard me. If I were speaking metaphorically about the economy, say, I might now tell you a little about worries we both have of funding cuts threatening our jobs. Or maybe I’d just plug in a link to a Scrubs episode or some such silliness as a distraction from the anxieties so many feel about the world’s current financial mess.
Sorry for the long absence. We’re all fine if still chronically sleep deprived. :-)
I’m planning to jump back into the blogpool soon. In the meantime Jaibird has asked if he might warble a few songs for you while you wait.
Tap tap. Ahem.
Hello everyone. Thank you very much for turning out tonight. I’d like to start off with a classic by Simon and Garfunkle, “Feeling Goovy.” Then we’ll probably kick it into gear with a tune or two by the Goo Fighters–I do love a good guitar riff. Later on if you ask real nice I might even throw in a pop ballad, maybe something from the Goo Kids on the Block or Boyz Goo Men. Shall we get started then? A one and a goo and a…
Our son Javid would have been two today. We’re finding it no less strange a milestone than it was a year ago. Rather, with the coming of a second birthday, our memories of him get wrapped in yet another layer of imagining–of him continuing to be alive, growing, flourishing. Getting older.
It’s also strange to have those imaginings in the presence of a baby who is alive and getting older. Jai is now 2 1/2 months old, and weighs almost exactly what Javid weighed when he died. One similarity amid so many profound differences.
We only ever got to hear Javid make even a faint sound once or twice, during the times when they were trying to see if he could come of the ventilator. Even then, with his damaged lungs, he could only produce tiny squeaks.
Little brother Jai, seemingly determined to balance the scales, is fully able (and more than willing) to wail and bellow. Nothing wee about the sounds this kid produces.
As Jai moves in and begins to occupy more of our mental landscape, we do notice ourselves shifting things around in there. But Javid’s place is secure, and we continue to feel grateful for the brief months we got to spend with him.
Say hello my Nana Lapp. Hello Nana. Guess what she went and did yesterday? Got herself two brand new knees, yessir. Isn’t my Nana clever?
(Maybe when I grow up I can get a bionic body part or twenty.)
Now that my Nana comes with a built-in soundtrack (so cool), I’m feeling inspired to learn to run and jump and play myself. The next time I see my Nana, I’m going to propose that we be physical therapy buddies so we can push each other.
C’mon Nana, bet you can’t learn to walk again before I can. See how hard I’m working?
Say it with me now: Pain is just weakness leaving the body. Pain is just weakness leaving the body. Go Nana!
Hah! I actually get to say it: Just as the doctor ordered. Or rather, just as the doctor was instructed to pass on from his main squeeze. (See most recent comment on previous post.) And while I’m on the subject of said squeeze and physician, congratulations to you Patti and Mario for, as we referred to it when we finally did it 10 years ago, “buckling to social convention.” :-) If or when you decide to take the extra step of procreating, my only request is that Mario be allowed to name all the kids. Just imagine how fun that would be!
Hey, the Boy’s a month old … more even than a month! That certainly went by quickly; we’d better start saving immediately for his faux mitzvah.
I’ve somehow let two weeks slip past without posting anything. That’s a ridiculous long time when measured in stanky diapers. It’s also time for plenty of other developments, for example growth. On Monday we had a pediatric visit and the Kid weighed in at 8 lb. 3 oz. Even if that weight was load-in-the-pants assisted (we’re waiting for the official ruling), that’s a pretty respectable number. And he’d also stretched himself out more than two inches. AL had better start eating bananas so he don’t get no leg cramps like his poor daddy back in the 9th grade.
Speaking of AL, happy freakin’ birthday to my dear significant O! Jai’s mama and my mamacita turned 39 on Wednesday, or as she herself might say, so indistinguishable from 40 you might as well go ahead and round up to 50. Always the optimist, mi wifita.
We spent most of her birthday outdoors at Ridley Creek State Park. Jai got to experience his first pickanick lunch, following which he got schlepped around some trails by the recent graduate of Hole-Slashed-In-Yer-Gut Academy. Maybe we won’t bother to mention that at her OB appointment this week.
In the evening we stopped for Thai food, which AL would eat for first and second breakfasts, lunch, dinner and by IV drip if that were available. What dish, you ask, did the birthday girl order? “Young girl on fire.” I’ve already started checking our credit card statements for anything resembling a hot red sports car.
So it turns out all those rumors about new parenthood causing sleep loss, foggy thoughts, lethargy, crankiness and luxuriant pink armpit hair were at least 80 percent correct.
I don’t have think I have enough coherency stored up to eek out more than a few paragraphs, so this post will mostly be pictures. Please don’t be led astray by any apparent glint of awareness in our eyes–the camera adds at least 30 IQ points.
So the initial rulings from the judges are in, and it appears the Boy has squeaked through the qualification rounds and into the finals. He benefited from a high start value for difficulty in recognition of the enormous handicap presented by his unfortunate draw of parents. It appears the judges were impressed with his ability to stay calm in the face of the mounting pressure … as well as his general scrumptiosity.
Like a certain Wee Boy when he first gets wrapped up in a swaddling blanket, I found myself squirming a bit against the need to return to work this week.
Again like the Boy, I eventually had to face up to the inevitability of my restraints. Given the lack of options, I tried to follow his lead and relax into the experience.
It did mean little time for blogging, although I hope to remedy that in the next day or so.
In the meantime, we took note this morning that today would have been his due date! It’s already hard to imagine him having ever been inside of Ana Lisa. After these last months of always trying to guess what he was up to inside there, it’s much more fun to just look down and see for ourselves.
I’ve got my own ‘puter again. No more having to share, yay. (Just imagine the kind of role models we’re going to be … something along the lines of my dear Dad who always encouraged me to drive slowly. Snort.)
Little Boy continues to pack on ounces, if not of weight than certainly of ‘tude.
