Wednesday, May 30th, 2007

This morning we had our inspection. It went very, very well. The inspector only found a few things, and they are all pretty easy to fix. She also really loved Back Seat Girl's room. What girl wouldn't? I think her room is my favorite in this house. I spent a lot of time in it wondering what it would be like to have a baby, and after she arrived I spent a lot of time in it nursing and rocking and crying while I packed away tiny baby girl clothes and realizing I can't make time stand still.

BSG and I spent a lot of time outside this morning,and when Back Seat Boy woke up from his nap he joined us. It was the first time he spent a significant amount of time hanging out in the yard and not in the stroller or Bjorn at a park. He did a lot of leaning forward trying very, very hard to touch the grass that seemed to be just out of his reach. Once he got a piece he very predictably put it in his mouth. Here he is, enjoying the breeze through his comb-over.

Here is BSG "smiling" for the camera, and BSB wondering what the heck she is doing. He spends a lot of time wondering what the heck she is doing. We all do.

Did you every wonder-- 'what is the last thing you see before you get your nose eaten off by a baby?' It's this:

When BSG saw me take a close-up of BSB, she requested one, also. She is a true Diva.

The TiVo Generation

The setting: I am in the kitchen, Back Seat Boy is napping in his room, Back Seat Girl is in the living room watching an hour long Dora special (God bless Nickelodeon for throwing an hour long one in there on a work day).

Back Seat Girl: Mommy! What happened? Come in here! Mommy!!

Me (running into the living room): What? What's wrong?

BSG: Where's Dora? Turn Dora back on!

Me: Honey, it's just a commercial. Dora will be back on in a few minutes.

I return to the kitchen and a few seconds later hear BSG reassure Pork Roll "Don't worry, Dora will come back on in a few minutes".

Alison Ran?

Welcome to Richfield. It was a beautiful weekend and Shotgun and I did some work on the house we are intending to sell. One of my tasks for the weekend was to clean the massive amount of Maple tree pollen out of the gutters. So I broke out the hose and went to work. Ever wonder what happen when a couple hundred ants build a nest in a hose and then you turn it on when a nozzle is attached? Well I found out and let me tell you, no water comes out. It seems that the path of least resistance is blocked by ant carcasses.

After doing the real work, back seat girl came out to “help”. There is a small hole in one of out hoses and in true Richfield fashion; this little lemon was made into lemonade by back seat girl and out neighbor. Here is some of the video from the afternoon. In one you can see me ask the neighbor girl if her parents are ok with her running threw the hose. Well, I pretty much assumed that they must be ok because surly someone saw their daughter/cousin/niece/sister/ come over to play. Back seat boy makes a few cameos as well.










A couple of side notes:
The entire time I was cleaning out the gutters one of out neighbors in the apartments behind us was cleaning out his car blasting light rick favorites from yesterday and today. I was serenaded with such classic as-

Put your head on my shoulder
Pretty woman
Sounds of silence (how ironic)
Some Billy Joel Song
And numerous other hits at a volume able to be clearly heard from half a block away.

Also, Shotgun just watched West Side Story for the first time tonight. She was shocked when I knew most of the songs by heart. Thanks, Kate.

Announcement

I am pleased to announce that Stefan and Jenny Debbert have a new baby boy!! Owen was born this morning at 6:30. Three weeks early, but who's counting? He weighed 6 lbs, 2 oz, and apparently has blonde hair. Don't know the length, but I may go and see them this afternoon so maybe I'll have a picture to post later.

Congratulations!!

A Warning

I feel it is my duty to deliver this public service to all of you. I was just looking myself up on Switchboard.com (it's better not to ask why), and it has my age as 31. 31!! Now, listen, I don't think 31 is old, it's just that I am not 31. I'm not even 30. Apparently, the internet is full of WILDLY inaccurate information. That's right--bold, italicized, all caps wildly. What's next? Everything on Wikepedia is made up?

I just thought you should all know that the internet is full of lies and you shouldn't believe ANYTHING you read. Unless, of course, it's on this website. Everything here is completely true.

Six months of Back Seat Boy

This weekend you turned six months old. I can hardly believe where the time has gone. How did you get to be so big? I think you were a tiny baby for about .5 seconds.

Now you are this moon-faced adorable morsel I could just squeeze until you pop. I won’t though. You are always ready to smile. You will smile at anything. If I just glance in your direction I get the big, wide-eyed, toothless grin. Your Grandma calls you a “ray of sunshine”, and I would have to agree with her.

You have a great giggle. It’s impossible not to smile when I hear you start to laugh. The person who can get you to laugh the easiest is your big sister. You watch her intently, and if she decides to grace you with some eye contact, you smile gleefully. If she goes so far as to actually talk to you or do something silly, you can’t help but laugh with delight.

You’re starting to develop a bit of a schedule, much to my delight. I’ve decided to take your lead on this since that’s what I let your sister do and she figured out a pretty nice daily schedule for herself. I usually end up laying you down by 8. You’ve gotten into the bad habit of waking up between 5:45 and 6, but usually I can get you to go back to sleep for a little while. The problem is that I can’t get back to sleep.

When you do wake up for the morning you couldn’t be happier. You are usually content to lie in your crib for a while and wrestle and talk with your blanket bear. When I go in to greet you, you act like you are surprised that yes, we are still here and did not move out in the middle of the night while you were sleeping. You kick and grunt and smile, and just when you think it couldn’t get any better, I change your diaper. You LOVE getting your diaper changed. The only thing that is better than getting your diaper changed is eating, especially that cereal stuff we’ve started giving you. You open your little mouth like a bird when you see the spoon, and have since the second time you’ve ever tried it. It is pretty funny. You even get excited when you see me get out the milk and the bowl.

You’re to the age where you will try to grab anything, ANYTHING within your reach, or at least what you perceive to be within your reach. It’s hard to eat now with you on my lap, because you are constantly grabbing at my plate, at the fork going into my mouth, at my face, at my drink, etc. Everything that ends up in your hand goes into your mouth, of course. I have forgotten how much babies love to put everything into their mouths.

Watching you has made me remember things about your sister being a baby that I had forgotten. For instance, you have developed a fascination with the tags on your toys. Your favorite part of any toy is the tag. I remember now that your sister was the same way. You finger the tag, or stick it in your mouth, or hold it up really close to your face and look at it with awe and wonder. “Behold, it is the almighty tag. There is a wealth of information on this thing. It has washing instructions on it. It tells you where it is made. It tells you what company made it. Plus, it’s kind of shiny and slippery and fits perfectly into my mouth.” At least that is what I imagine is going through that little brain of yours.


The last six months have flown by, and I know the next six months will, as well. Before I know it you will be trying to walk and talk and the precious little baby you are now will only be a memory. I am tenaciously holding on to these innocent moments before you are treating me like an indentured servant as other people in this house are known to do. You look at me now after I feed you or change your diaper or get you after you’ve woken up from a nap with such gratitude, like these things aren’t expected of me--like I’m the greatest person in the world for keeping you alive for this long. I think you’re saying “Wow. Thanks Mom. I really was hungry/tired/messy, and you took care of it. I love you”.

Happy Birthday, Little Man. I love you, too.

P.S. You scream like a girl when you're excited, but I think it makes me love you a little more. You even make screaming like a girl cute.

Why?

I heard well before I ever thought about having my own children the stories of toddlers who constantly ask 'why?'. You answer one 'why', and it's met with another 'why', and another, and so on. I thought to myself "Self, surely this is an exaggeration". I had never witnessed first-hand any small child do this. I thought it was one of those old stories that got exaggerated over time. Yea, maybe a few kids do this, but not to the point where there can't possibly be anymore answers to the "whys?".

Enter Back Seat Girl. She loves to prove her mother wrong, and she has done it once again. In the last two weeks she started asking 'why?' to everything, everything she possibly can. Even when it doesn't make sense to ask 'why?', even when she's asking about how she feels or why she is doing something, she asks us "why?".

Last weekend I had to work so Driver, being the good dad he is, loaded the kids into the stroller and took them to the park. They came to a 4-way stop at the same time as another car. Driver waved his hand and told the driver of the car to go ahead. Back Seat Girl saw this as an opportunity to stump her stupid parents yet again. This time, however, Driver had an answer.

BSG: What did you say to that lady?
Driver: I told her she can go.
BSG: Why?
Driver: So we wouldn't go at the same time.
BSG: Why?
Driver: Because then we would hit eachother.
BSG: Why?
Driver: Because then we would get hurt.
BSG: Why?
Driver: Because according to the laws of physics two objects can't occupy the same space at the same time.

That was one of the shorter exchanges. They can go on forever, to the point where you really can't think of any more answers. The other night she asked me why she couldn't go to heaven right now. (The original question was "Who is Jesus?") We always try to distill them down to phsyics. I've found myself saying on more than one occasion to my two and a half year old "physics, Back Seat Girl, it's all around us".

I feel myself getting less intelligent by the day.