No Naps, Please

Over the past three-four days, Rowan has been striking like a French civil servant (gratuitous use of hyerlink feature here). He doesn't want to nap during the day and he's also waking up a lot at night.

Now they say that life changes a lot after you have a baby. In fact, for everything that once existed in your life, you will find a new corrolary. However, this is not the Neoplatonic universe wherin "each kind / Does straight its own resemblance find," nor the correspondence of state to individual or macro- to microcosm. No, this is the parenting universe. Truisms like "hate begets hate" and "Those to whom evil is done / Do evil in return" are reduced to "those who do not nap do not sleep through the night." They say sleep breeds sleep; however, Rowan is not about to breed any sleep if he can help it.

In spite of his sleep strike, we're all having a way fun weekend.

R has taken quite the shine to Aunti Keeshie, and we've been enjoying waffle-mania, long walks, and, occasionally, fussing.
L and I are reaping the first benefits of the garden installed by GranpaS. A baby-sized zuke appeared under some green leaves, so we turned it into bread (you can see that I don't have the green thumb in the family).
Before we started baking, R unsuccessfully petitioned to turn the zuke into a teether.
As parents, L and I are now in a new mktg demographic. Maybe this is why we greeted the discovery of this show like a moonlanding for the 21st century.


transplanting the transplants

L and I both remember lots of catalogs in our respective houses as we grew up. It seems buying clothes and things via catalog is something that married/family people do. I hadn't seen a catalog in about 10 yrs and had almost wiped LLBean and Land's End from my memory when an American Apparel catalog appeared at our door. Naturally times change, so now instead of New England themed flannels and fishermen's hats, our catalogs include the tri-blend Track Shirt and California Fleece Pullover Raglan Hoody Dress.

As you can see, Rowan was not into the catalog.

Rowan has found two new motivations for learning to crawl: running from green dinosaurs and chasing multi-colored kittens.

We're gearing up for more visitors and a round of packing and moving. We lasted almost 9 months at our current address. That's under our average, but L and I have moved every couple years since leaving for our respective undergrad universities and are excited about staying in one place for a few years. I keep using the word "respective," maybe because everything L and I do henceforth will be in tandem (with the possible exception of bike-riding).

Anyway, we're moving the first week of Aug, and we'll have painting/moving help from the granmas and Uncle T. We've been choosing colors (kind of a nightmare). It's like playing Risk, or a playground version of "Middle East Peace Negotiation," but without the good humor.

Just kidding, we're not fighting about it. But it's still a nightmare. (This is not a plea for decorating advice. Please do not forward color-schemes.)

We've been treated to a couple days of sleep-in Ro. He's been sleeping slightly later, and having fun no-pants mornings before we crawl out of bed. However, our cats have started getting us up at 5 or so.

I got back from work and walked into the big room the other day to find my kitten in bed with my hand puppet. It was shocking! Look at those lascivious cretaceous jaws!

I'm done with tutoring for the summer, so I'll be spending my days packing things up. L is at phlebotomy training today. Please forward your "lobotomy" jokes to imateenagephlebotomy@hotmail.com


We're busy wrapping up another weekend here in Greensboro (I still haven't discovered what the cool kids call Greensboro, so I'm resigned to calling it by its full and proper name. Sigh.). These past few days have been a good mixture of hassle and chillax. I had to work late Friday and part of the day yesterday, but that was okay. I have also started phlebotomy training, which is part of my work as well. The first portion of this training consisted of me doing a venipuncture. I was assured that I'd get to practice on a citrus or a detached dummy arm, but I found myself using a real needle on a real human. Ro has a new favorite toy. The other morning as I performed a hasty brushing, he kept fussing and reaching for the toothbrush. Who am I to deny a baby some soothing soft bristle action? Mercer says he hopes Ro doesn't become a dentist because dentists have higher suicide rates than folks in other professions. My dentist seems pretty happy. She should be--she's totally raking in the dough from my rotten, sugar-addled British chompers. Speaking of rotten, Merc just found two typos in the Sunday NYTimes. All the news that's fit to print? More like all the . . . periods that are fit to . . . be missing! Yeah! As I started to say earlier, we have had a pretty enjoyable weekend. Last night we went out to dinner with the neighbors. Our neighbor John turned seven. We went to a hibachi restaurant to celebrate. I was a little worried about bringing Ro. We have an uneven history of eating out. By uneven I mean that we have completed one meal out sans having to beat a hasty retreat from the dining area, screaming baby in tow. But this place last night was so full of din from family fun and sizzling grease that Ro's screams were totally drowned out. Tasty!
Today, we did a little shopping. Mercer bought some shirts in various shades of blue, and I bought a bikini to replace the one that Audie ate last week. We paused mid-shop for some ice cream and a lovely headbutt (see above). Both Mercer and I are ice cream monsters these days. But now that the garden is cranking up production, we'll hopefully be indulging in more than just ice cream soon. Sadly, we're moving in a couple weeks, right in the midst of the most bounteous month. I'm seriously considering uprooting our plants and bringing them with us . . . think they'd survive?
Dsepite Audie's ambivalence towards Ro, the two have discovered they do in fact have some things in common, such as a mutual love of pouncing on and shredding newspapers. Rowan is trying very hard to become mobile; the cats' twitching tails have proven quite tantalizing.


New photos reveal...the local train

I was planning on posting about the first garden tomato of the summer. It was the size and shape of a miniature apple and flawlessly red. However, I went to the fridge to take a picture of it and discovered that L had eaten the aforementioned apple/tomato. Eep!

Luckily, Janers recently dropped us some pictures from all the way back in January, when we went up to NYC for our BBQ and Brooklyn-brunch baby shower and (nonexistent) bachelor party.

It was really cool to see these pictures. After having Rowan, even a month feels like ages ago. The temporal sense of the S-Bs has been thoroughly and unsystematically deranged by a two-foot-tall pair of lungs.

So, these photos allowed us to make several discoveries for the first time. Evidently, before R was born, Liz spent time as a mondo-preggo. Auntie Teeks can't believe it, either!

The busyness just keeps on coming. This evening we took a long walk while the landlord showed the house to a couple of potential renters. With any luck, we should be out by mid-August and into the new place.

R's appetite is really picking up, and we're contemplating the time to introduce the old mashed-up rice. He'll be eating sushi in no time.

He's already changed so much, and it's only been four months.

Over the course of the past year, we have not ceased to be as surprised/delighted as Liz looks here. It also appear that I've had a number of haircuts. I had forgotten having the comb-over do pictured in fig. 1.

In the foreground, you'll see a tiny strawberry hat that we can't wait for R to grow into.

Since having a baby, we've spent lots of time anthropomorphizing various things around the house. For example,

Sunglasses: I'm Mr. Crazyglasses, Rowan. I'm your friend.

Rowan: Says you!! Waaaa!

Here, L reminds me that deep down we are all actually moose.

A reiterated shout out to all the aunties and uncles who came to the sushi/shower/madness. Except for the waitress-ghost that haunted G-R.

Argyle vs. Sports reporter's hat.

Q: Who knows how to pick the ponies?
A: Rascals.


virtuous pottery sir gets hitched

Our efforts at regular posting have become downright pathetic! It's like talking to old friends--the less you call, the more you have to catch up on so the harder it is to find the time to make that call. If you talk all the time, you can manage those shorter conversations. My goal, thus, is to post more and call my friends more. Below, Rowan enjoys a post-tub snuggle while a demon kitten finishes the dishes.
So, where were we? When Mercer last wrote, it was late, and I guess he didn't want to start getting into the whole wedding thing. So I guess by now all three of you blog readers know our most recent piece of big news, but here are the pictures to prove it. I took the afternoon off work on Tuesday, and all grandparents came down for the occasion, as well as Aunt Hannah, Meg and Luis, Michelle and Morgan, and Brigid. It was awesome of everyone to come given such short notice and the fact that several of those present were currently or had recently experienced birthdaytational situations (Dad=7.7; Brigid=7.8, along with Ann and Guli, who were there in spirit, if not in body. Happy Birthday, guys!). After traipsing around the perimeter of several courthouse-looking buildings, we finally found the proper locale. After security guards had searched Ro's carseat, we proceeded through the main body of the courthouse, which was undergoing major construction. Jackhammers accompanied by peals of falling glass served as our wedding bells, and we took our pictures in front of the caution tape. I never thought getting married would make much of a difference in day-to-day matters--I still don't--but it was surprising how neat-o (for lack of a better word) it was to take part in a symbolic ceremony around the fact, to have a clear event to celebrate. Plus it is much easier semantically. Mercer is no longer just my babydaddy or my partner (so clinical) or my boyfriend (so sixth grade). And to my mama's relief, she now has something to call Mercer other than "my grandson's daddy."
Above, yukkin' it up in small claims court . . .

So that's our biggest news of the week . . . that and we are fixing to close on a house. Yeehaw! It's late 19th century with a garden-suitable backyard and a porch swing. The inspection showed a couple minor issues here and there, but nothing major structurally. I'll post pictures as soon as it is officially ours and I don't have to be a trespassing creep to procure such pix.

It has been nice to have a mellow weekend. We have stayed busy just relaxin' (see figure below for proof).
We spent many, many dollars at various food stores. The natural foods store around here, in particular, sucks you in with its quasi-healthy fare and tantelizing displays of bulk goods. Thus my sated impulse to spend 9 dollars on chocolate cherry trail mix.

Last night, as Rowan was uttering his presleep screams, Mercer & I decided we wanted to watch a movie. However, we had returned all our (unwatched) Netflix two days prior, deciding we'd never again have an opportunity to view them. So we ventured across the lawn to awesome neighbor Sallie's. She's an art designer who often travels to China on bizness, so she picks up pirated DVDs on a regular basis. We got halfway through Sweeney Todd before the DVD inexplicably cut out, but we did get to bear witness to the greatest (English-translated to Mandarin-back translated to English?) captions ever. The name translations were the best. Por ejemplo, Judge Turpin was Wu (minus the Tang Clan), Mrs. Lovett was Liu, Pirelli was Dillycomb. And to top it all off, Sweeney Todd himself was Virtuous Pottery Sir. So when Lovett sang, "Mr. Todd, oh Mr. Todd," the caption read "Virtuous Pottery Sir, your pottery is virtuous."
Peace out!


4 July Weekend Pt. 1: NCMD / MDNC

The pillow fort has become a floating palace. S-Bs have been all up and down the road in the past week or so. Most recently, L and I went to MD and my folks came here (in reverse order, then correct order).

Here Ro finds something new to chomp on. He's been going to town with some drool-a-tron action, so he just may be ready to start cutting teeth.

My dad had to buy a new watch after this monsoon drooling session was over.

There have been countless (i.e., more than two) events going on simultaneously in this end-of-June / beg.-of-July period. We celebrated the birthday of Grandad B (and young M.E.) on the 30th, Grandad S on the 7th, and Rowan SB on the 6th. We look forward to the bday of Gran B later this month. In addition, a number of L's associates celebrated bdays (I'll let her shout out her own shout outs), and we celebrated the one-year anniversary of our discovery of the concept of Rowan. Not to break the conceptual mold or anything, but it's been an amazing year.

We went up to MD for the 4th of July, R's 1st big road trip as a boy (and not a concept/embryo/fetus/prog rock keyboard player). It too 6 hours, and he was basically good the whole way. We were psyched, and had fun in the car.

Here's R and G-G in my folks' place. Behind them is one surprised art restorer (who is, I hope, a good sport). We got to see friends and family that we had not seen for a while as well as brand new family we'd never met before. We also ate a ton of fried chicken. Oh yeah.

Here's furry uncle Bunky, who was an excellent shepherd of babies. He seemed quite protective of R. He's also a dog, which is awesome.

Here, Gran B shows Ro how to survive in the wilderness: eat the flower garden. Just kidding, he didn't really eat the flowers. But my mom did.

Just kidding. Again.

Once we got done eating crabs and greeting old friends (it was good to see you all again), we headed back to NC to put in some time in the old Jumperoo.

Grandad B: "Hey, get off the table, you kitten!"
Audie: "What? Hey, YOU get ON the table!...
and gimme the real estate section. I'm busy flipping property!!"

What did we do next? Find out in Pt 2...

L: I like polka dots!
Me (behind camera): Me too!