A morning out on the town...

Last Saturday, I decided to break the morning routine of chillin' at the house in the morning, and decided to take Ian out, just him and me. (Could I write a sentence with more commas? Sure.) Bright and early, we headed out for Jones Bros. cupcakes at Aksarben Village. First, I must admit... I don't know how Sarah carries so much crap around all the time. Between him, a bag, and carrying yogurt and a huge marshmallow (literally), I was quite overwhelmed. I then decided to take him to the playground. I suddenly realized that he might think we were going to the fountains by the giant obelisk. I didn't have any swim clothes or a towel. I thought if I kept far enough away from them, he wouldn't notice. Of course not. That was complete wishful thinking on my part. He ran for the fountains with reckless abandon and pure cheer, which I promptly trounced by steering him to the playground. He then trumped my trouncing, and proceeded to howl like spidermonkey in heat. All the nice moms at the playground with their robotic children proceeded to stare in derision. I thought we were done. My planned day of blissfully pounding marshmallows and passing out by the swing set went up in smoke.

I then decided to make it a task-y trip. We made the drive west out to Costco, where Ian thoroughly enjoyed running around the liquor section, deftly darting back and forth between large pallets of Jack Daniels and SoCo. I grabbed my $10 Starbucks knock-off coffee and figured we were headed for home after that. On my way back, I remembered the park Sarah and I used to visit all the time in the pre-Ian days. It has a HUGE space to run around in. I decided not to give up yet, and made a quick left turn into the park. This turned out to be the best thing I decided to do all morning. Ian LOVED it. (I did too). He had such a good time chasing the birds and running after dogs. I then decided to hide behind the tree and let him chase me, which was definitely the highlight of the visit for me. We then chilled by a tree stump, which Ian enjoyed just standing on. It's the simple times like that I hope I always remember. I hope he somehow remembers it too, even if only subconsciously. I'm glad I didn't give up and go home, that's for sure.

Please? Not being a brat at the park.

We were at Elmwood Park last Sunday for Earth Day, with about 50,000 other children. As usual, I was trying not to be a control/fear freak as I let Ian wander into the writhing, chaotic mass of kid-ness crawling over the playground. (He usually seems so big to me, but so little when there are so many children of various ages. I swear, one kid had a mustache). I calmly watched him from a bit of a distance, but then had to follow in once he went to that shadowed area UNDER the equipment bridges, etc. Who really knows what goes on down there? Are there mini-bullies or kids peddling their leftover Ritalin? No other parent’s venture in there, so I thought I’d be proactive. I came upon Ian patiently standing next to an older child with a small plastic spade. This child furiously shoveled and dumped sand while other hoolig— I mean, children, vainly tried to pick it up with their hands. I saw the look in my son eye. He is a sand shoveling FREAK. (Woodchips, actually, from our favorite park. Anyway…) I expected to see him lunge at this child and make a mad grab for the spade. I know he’s not afraid of other kids, even bigger ones; however, he stood there, pointing at the spade, saying his customary query: “Pweeeze?? Pweeze??” I was so proud, of both my son and wife. Sarah pioneered teaching him to say please and not giving him what he wants until he says it. She also conditioned me to do the same (Good Monkey, Matt…) Rather than yell and scream and whine for the spade, he simply and patiently asked for it. Granted, the kid ignored him, but that didn’t matter. Now I do not intend to imply that Ian is perfectly behaved all the time, or ALWAYS says please and never whines. Trust me, I’ve heard plenty of screeching. But, in this teeming mass of children in the sand, where “might makes right”, he remained patient and did not give in to chaos. Certainly a moment to be proud of.

Shampoo Mohawk

It has become routine for me to give Ian his bath. I used to avoid this. Trying to scrub moving parts can get quite tricky; however, I soon moved past this and came to realize that these are some of the prime bonding moments I have with my son. Ian received his first shampoo mohawk last night. I cannot believe it took me so long to initiate this standard staple of bath-hood. He may not realize the significance of an awesome mohawk yet, but he’ll thank me later in life. We’ve also created a new activity/tradition, birthed from the intense process of rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. (I say intense because he howls like a banshee and/or sobs uncontrollably during this process. I suppose it’s my fault that I recently discovered that I wasn’t shielding his eyes very well. It’s a learning process, folks.) Anyway, I will fill the rinsing device with water and pour it out slowly in a steam. Ian LOVES to try and grab the stream, and he is extremely amused by the fact that he can’t grab it. Of course, he laughs constantly during this process, looking at me to see if I realize that the funniest thing in the world is happening. After I stopped doing this last night, he simply laughed and pointed at me, delightfully yelling “Daddy! Daddy!”. I was so happy in that moment, I thought my heart would propel from my chest and slap against the tile on the other side of the tub. It’s moments like that I don’t want to ever forget. (NO, he was not laughing AT me. Don’t ruin my moment). All that to say, it’s those nuggets of spontaneous joy, buried within the routine, that are simply amazing. What I used to avoid has turned into one of the best parts of my life. With a mohawk.

Ultrasound

What a day! I should be picking up the house right now, but couldn’t resist writing a bit. I went with Sarah to the OBGYN today to hear our upcoming child’s heartbeat for the first time! I always get lost when I go places I’ve never been before, even Omaha, so I planned accordingly and left a bit early. Sure enough, I made a wrong turn, but quickly found my way back on track. I got there before Sarah and was afraid to go in. Only women were in the lobby and coming-and-going from the building. I was afraid that they may want to take out their latent pregnancy rage on any random male within the vicinity, so I decided to wait in the car. After waiting in 3 different areas, we finally got to see the doctor (nurse practitioner?). She broke out the fetal heart monitor and offered to get us an ultrasound if we couldn’t hear the heartbeat. Naturally, I mentioned that our insurance may not cover it and deem it “medically unnecessary”. (I will never forget that term, after fighting a claim. Another story…) She said she wouldn’t try TOO hard with the monitor and that the ultrasound would then be necessary. I like her. Yes, I do.

We made our way back to the ultrasound room where they promptly squirted that strange clear ultrasound jelly on Sarah’s tummy, which I’m convinced is made of gelatin. It didn’t take them too long to find the little bean. We saw the heart beat (which is a little fast flutter) right away! I felt nostalgic and somewhat proud of myself that I could actually recognize it this time. It took 20 minutes and a lot of squinting for me to recognize the heartbeat on Ian’s ultrasound. The nurse practitioner then announced “there’s only one, no twins!” I promptly yelled “yay!” and threw my hands in the air. The female ultrasound techs then gave me this disgusted look. Anyway, and not due to their disgusted looks, I felt kind of bad as I cheered. Sarah has kept mentioning that she feels that we might be having twins. I completely stressed out at that thought; but once I found out that we really weren’t, I felt sad, even as I cheered! How strange! It must be that built-in parenthood thing that makes you want to crawl through glass and get punched in the face, just to see your kid smile. All in all, I’m happy and proud of my little 7 cm. baby, he/she is going strong. I can’t wait ‘till week 20!

Ian dancing to his OTHER favorite song, also from Cars. (His favorite movie :)

Home. Toys. Toy Story.

It is a nice breezy afternoon and both Sarah and Ian are sound asleep. Toys are strewn about the floor and I really don’t care. It’s funny how that would have bothered me 6 months to a year ago, but thank God, I’m easier-going now. I could pick them up now, but they’ll just be out there again after he wakes up! Sarah took a walk today and Ian and I watched Toy Story together. He actually sat in my lap for almost 20 minutes during the beginning, which quite a long stretch for my monkey boy. That was only the second time I’ve ever seen it, the first being while Sarah and I dated. I must admit, it’s nice to be home. Sarah and I are often on the opposite ends of the spectrum. She’s home most of the day(s), and wants to get out on the weekend; however, I take pride in the fact that it’s almost 2 PM and I’m still in my pajamas. And Ian. Like father, Like Son. (No, not the bad 80’s movie. I digress).

It’s funny how I used to feel like we HAD to do something on Saturdays, before Ian was born. It then felt stifling being “stuck” at home often after he was born, especially on weeknights. Our routine has changed. Saturday days are now fun “family time” at home while we go to bed early on Friday nights. Having to wake up at 7AM every Saturday and Sunday does that to a couple. I’ve grown content with it, a quieter contentment than I’ve ever known. Watching Ian spin in circles in the morning, dancing to “Life is a Highway”, beats the crap out of the sleeping in every weekend, “what-are-we-gonna-do-today?” pre-parenthood Saturday. That being said, I know things will change as he grows older, and when we have a new baby. I’m enjoying the new, temporary calm of this routine.

Round 2....

Sometimes I can't believe that we're doing it all again... by we, I mean Sarah doing all the work of building the baby while I write blog posts. :) Seriously though, I look at this picture of Ian and remember the awe, exhilaration and utter strangeness of knowing this little person was growing inside of her. I wonder what it will be like to have two. I remember feeling like it was "Sarah/Me and the Baby" for the first 6 months or so of Ian's life. He grew, in my mind, to be come "Sarah/Me/Ian". He is now a fully integrated member of our family, infusing it with his life and personality. I'm amazed at the miracle of it, and thinking that his personhood was encapsulated in that zygotish body, with his personality yet to develop. I celebrate it and am awed by it. I cannot wait to see the picture of our next little person, and to feel him or her (or as I say to Sarah, "himmerrereorherr") grow from "the baby" into an amazing person that I will cherish.

This is the first time Ian walked from the house to the car! (About a week ago.) I was so proud of him. He would scream and not hold my hand when I first started letting him walk with me, but he stopped doing that after a few times. I guess he got tired of going rigid and screaming as loud as he could. Anyway, he is doing awesome and loves to walk everywhere! I just can’t let him get away, he’s quick and wily….

Drive Home

This is about the first time I drove with Ian by myself, soon after he was born. He was crying and I tried to keep him calm. I came up with the chorus on that drive, and was singing it to him while driving.

Saturdays Rule.

I can’t believe how awesome our weekends are. I know that’s basic and simple, but it’s simply true. By the time I get home from work, Ian has had a long, mis-adventurous day of playing in sand and/or woodchips at the park, throwing bouncy balls around the house and yelling when getting his diaper changed. He’s quite worn out for the 90 minutes a day I get with him during the week. Saturdays rule because I grab him in the morning and foggily drink coffee on the couch while he does laps between the kitchen door and the front door. I’m not joking; he literally runs laps. He’ll go back and forth without stopping, often laughing most of the way. I may then lay down on the ground and let him attack me. (This is unique way I’ve found of interacting with him AND laying on the ground like a slab of beef. I CAN have my cake and eat it too).

We later (all 3 of us, I don’t mean to exclude my awesome wife) walk the long way to the park. I can’t remember the name of the park. It’s in the County Club area. We often come across nice, well-bred, well-grammared parents ask us if we live in the area. We always say “yes”. They’ll then ask where. We give a vague answer, “oh, a mile or so away”, hiding the fact that we live on the OTHER side of NW Radial, which is a bit more…economically diverse. I would tell them that, but I don’t want them to spew their Cherry Mochas in my face and run off with their children. Besides, Ian likes rich kids.

The point is, Saturdays are awesome because I get to see the spectrum of Ian’s personality, not just his end-of-the-day, eary-evening tiredness. I also get to see him longer, which is obviously nice. I can’t think of a clever way to round out this post and finish it up, so I’ll just stop now. Thank you.