OK, I couldn't resist posting these. I call this set of pics, "Wilder: Up Close and Personal."
Monday, June 25, 2007
Letitbeaphase, letitbeaphase
So today is Wilder's 20-month mark. Good thing it's not a real important milestone, because he would not be ringing it in with what I'd call a great amount of decorum.
He started it off by waking up at around 1 a.m. this morning. He went from fussing to having a real come-apart in the span of a couple minutes. Usually I let him cry these things out on his own. If I go in there, the length of such episodes is tripled or quadrupled. But this morning he sounded in real distress. Yet that distress was nothing compared to what I was about to witness.
I put it thusly to a friend earlier today in an e-mail. Incidentally, this friend has a 6-week old and is therefore going through sleep issues of his own (DISCLAIMER: I haven't edited out the profanity):
I still have no idea what it was about. I guess it was either a very bad dream that he hadn't quite woken up from or he was actually in some kind of pain. We popped in a Baby Einstein finally and, after a couple minutes, he chilled to the point where the next door neighbors probably couldn't hear him anymore. Poor guy.
OK, so that was the beginning. The middle consisted of the usual succession of nos and head shakes and flopping on the floor in protest. Normal toddler stuff. This is getting long, so I'll wrap this last part up real fast. I had to change a dirty diaper right after dinner and before bathtime, giving him a few minutes to run around naked as a jaybird. He took this opportunity to pee on my left foot, which was wearing one half of my favorite pair of sandals. Got that cleaned up. Put him in the tub. That was going nicely. Then he crapped. In the tub. Thank God by that time Jerry has gotten home (he worked late tonight) and was able to quickly come in and scoop him out of my hands. So the kitchen floor is mopped up, the tub is sanitized and the tub toys are in the wash. I need a drink ...
That said, here are a few photos from this weekend. I wanted to post more but I'm tuckered.
Playing in the stream at the zoo.
What could evoke this reaction? A bear? Lion? Elephant? ...
Nope, it was this guy. And I agree with Wilder; he's supercool.
Yes, I am a GIGANTIC dork.
Jerry and Wilder hanging in the tent during our front-yard camping experiment. (NOTE: It did not last all night.)
Jerry laughing. Why? I was drinking a Crown and Coke and, after I told Wilder no three times when he asked for a drink, he threw his bink in, fished it back out and proceeded to suck the whiskey coke off. Booger ...
Yes, we watched "Nemo" on the laptop in the tent.
He started it off by waking up at around 1 a.m. this morning. He went from fussing to having a real come-apart in the span of a couple minutes. Usually I let him cry these things out on his own. If I go in there, the length of such episodes is tripled or quadrupled. But this morning he sounded in real distress. Yet that distress was nothing compared to what I was about to witness.
I put it thusly to a friend earlier today in an e-mail. Incidentally, this friend has a 6-week old and is therefore going through sleep issues of his own (DISCLAIMER: I haven't edited out the profanity):
"Did I say last week that he's a good sleeper? I should NEVER make such statements. He's not only decided bedtime is the equivalent of a diaper-rash cream application in how it must be approached (READ: kicking, screaming, etc.), but he's woke up between 11:30-1:30 the last four nights acting like Nazi paratroopers have just landed in his room and are trying to abscond with him. Last night, in addition to the imagined kidnapping, he also acted like something was trying to eat him alive from the inside out. I do NOT exaggerate. Apparently he'd entered a Mother of All Tantrums contest and was aiming to win the grand prize. Holy. Friggin'. Shit. I thought I knew what a come-apart was, but my kid proved to me last night that when it comes to having come-aparts, he's turned professional. It went on for like 20 minutes and ended with him on flat on his stomach on our living room floor in a pool if his own panic-induced slobber. If that was a glimpse of my future I'm finding a dark closet to cower in. I'll say one thing for the very-very-wee-infant stage, brother ... at least they're not aware they have free will yet."
I still have no idea what it was about. I guess it was either a very bad dream that he hadn't quite woken up from or he was actually in some kind of pain. We popped in a Baby Einstein finally and, after a couple minutes, he chilled to the point where the next door neighbors probably couldn't hear him anymore. Poor guy.
OK, so that was the beginning. The middle consisted of the usual succession of nos and head shakes and flopping on the floor in protest. Normal toddler stuff. This is getting long, so I'll wrap this last part up real fast. I had to change a dirty diaper right after dinner and before bathtime, giving him a few minutes to run around naked as a jaybird. He took this opportunity to pee on my left foot, which was wearing one half of my favorite pair of sandals. Got that cleaned up. Put him in the tub. That was going nicely. Then he crapped. In the tub. Thank God by that time Jerry has gotten home (he worked late tonight) and was able to quickly come in and scoop him out of my hands. So the kitchen floor is mopped up, the tub is sanitized and the tub toys are in the wash. I need a drink ...
That said, here are a few photos from this weekend. I wanted to post more but I'm tuckered.
Playing in the stream at the zoo.
What could evoke this reaction? A bear? Lion? Elephant? ...
Nope, it was this guy. And I agree with Wilder; he's supercool.
Yes, I am a GIGANTIC dork.
Jerry and Wilder hanging in the tent during our front-yard camping experiment. (NOTE: It did not last all night.)
Jerry laughing. Why? I was drinking a Crown and Coke and, after I told Wilder no three times when he asked for a drink, he threw his bink in, fished it back out and proceeded to suck the whiskey coke off. Booger ...
Yes, we watched "Nemo" on the laptop in the tent.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Quick Shot
I'm going to post more pics later of our zoo excursion, along with some hopefully good shots tonight of our yard camping, but I wanted to post a quick one. This one is classic Wilder. Squatted down, picking up rocks and a drool trail more than halfway to the ground. It's also photos like these that sometimes amaze me at how beautiful my boy is. In the day to day of crying, screaming, drooling and smearing goldfish residue all over his face, you can't always see it. But my goodness is he handsome!
Friday, June 22, 2007
TGIF!
Jerry surprised Wilder and I with a day off today. We meant to go out of town. We wanted to go camping and see how the boy would handle sleeping under the stars, breathing fresh air, etc. Alas, it was not to be. In this state you have to have a permit to camp on public land and we did not and everything was booked solid. When we were childless we might have (OK, would have ...) thrown caution to the wind and thumbed our noses at those kinds of restrictions, but that's difficult to do when a park ranger might walk into your camp at 11 p.m. and make you go home and you have a toddler in tow. We considered finding a cabin somewhere, but we decided to save the money (and we're consoling ourselves with our TN trip in a little over a week).
So, all that said, we wanted to make the most of our weekend trapped in the concrete jungle. We took a little hike, swung by the spraygrounds (where we and about 50 other people got caught in a thunderstorm downpour -- it was awesome!) and went out to dinner. Just a few pics, including one Jerry took of Wilder and I after coming home from dinner. I very rarely like pictures of myself these days, but this one is OK, and it's a fantastic one of my sweet, sweet boy.
Wilder enjoys his sprayground outing just minutes before the skies opened up and dumped!
On our hike, Wilder finds a small butterfly to marvel over.
Our post-dinner pic.
So, all that said, we wanted to make the most of our weekend trapped in the concrete jungle. We took a little hike, swung by the spraygrounds (where we and about 50 other people got caught in a thunderstorm downpour -- it was awesome!) and went out to dinner. Just a few pics, including one Jerry took of Wilder and I after coming home from dinner. I very rarely like pictures of myself these days, but this one is OK, and it's a fantastic one of my sweet, sweet boy.
Wilder enjoys his sprayground outing just minutes before the skies opened up and dumped!
On our hike, Wilder finds a small butterfly to marvel over.
Hi hikes! This was the boy's first hike w/o one of us toting him in his backpack. When we turned around due to swarms (literally) of mosquitoes, Wilder cried to go on. This was great -- we've got ourselves a little hiker!
Our post-dinner pic.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Foh Toes
Clearly, I've gotten lazy when it comes to titling my posts. Below are a few images captured from the last couple of weeks. Wilder, of course, continues to amaze with his growing brain and his utter and obstinate unwillingness to eat vegetables. The kid who used to pack it all away for a good caloric burst of energy now obstinately shakes his head when I cut him a piece of summer squash the size of a pinky nail. I am also happy to report that he turns a bright shade of lobster red when he exerts himself in high temperatures -- he gets that from my side of the family. So, to sum up he:
A) Gets red when exercising and;
B) Is cranky when he first wakes up.
Yes, this is my legacy to my offspring.
Wilder in mama's sunglasses. Yes, he looks just like a giant blonde fly. For some reason, he can't help but grin like a jack-o-lantern with these on.
A) Gets red when exercising and;
B) Is cranky when he first wakes up.
Yes, this is my legacy to my offspring.
Ah well, onto the photos!
This is Judy. She is, for all intensive purposes, Wilder's honorary Dallas grandparent. She gives him lipstick kisses and he adores her equally.
An impromptu family photo taken just before bedtime last night. 
Pop finally gets Wilder to smile for the camera.
Wilder in mama's sunglasses. Yes, he looks just like a giant blonde fly. For some reason, he can't help but grin like a jack-o-lantern with these on.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Whew ...
We've been pretty busy here the last few weeks. Slowly pulling some things together that we've been meaning to do for some time. Painting our front room a non-Parkay yellow color (after six years that particular color starts to make you feel a bit homicidal rather than what I assume is its intended "cheeriness"). That effort was fraught with folly ... I put two gallons on the wall in full-steam-ahead mode before I realized it wasn't going to dry anything other than that pinkish/lilacish color that neither Jerry or I could live with unless Cinderella her friggin' self was moving in and paying the mortgage. It was a mixing fiasco perpetrated by Gidden, Evil Overlords of Erroneous Paint Formulas. Ahh, damn you Gidden!!!! (We ended up with a lovely neutral shade that complements the orange kitchen/red office nicely.)
Speaking of office ... this weekend, spontaneously, we decided to tackle the office/den/library/"man room." I say "we" as if Jerry had much choice. I tend to decide on a whim that these things must be done. He theoretically could not help me. But I think A) he's a very sweet man and so plunges himself into the effort with enthusiasm and B) fears the look in my eyes and what it could turn into should he not pitch in. I've said it before; will say it again -- I married the right man. He gets me and all my mostly unloveable idiosyncracies.
/tangent.
Anyway, this room had become:
1. Absolutely filthy with neglect
2. A storage room
Bikes and strollers were mixed in with mold and dust and bunnies and lord knows what else. Much cleaning solution and paper towelage were employed. Like, enough to bring a small forest back to life (in the paper towel dept. ... the cleaning solution was just enough to make me goofy on fumes).
We're not quite done yet, but the end result is rather nice. I finally got some pictures framed and displayed that were taken by my old friend and our wedding photographer, David Wood, 12 years ago on a tour of the Pacific Northwest. They look fantastic. I bought a huge but manly houseplant (this remains the "man room," after all) and a container for it that I liken to a tire. Again, the manly thing. As the coup de grace of manliness, I've decided that, rather than purchase a new media cabinet, I will decoupage our old one with old pinup prints for a really funky piece. I think I'm more excited about the possibilities than Jerry.
Anyway, it looks good, and I've now been blogging about cleaning and decorating for a few hundred words, and I should probably stop before this gets out of hand. I will end with the statement that should any of you who read this blog ever decide to come visit us (hint nudge hint nudge), we have some really lovely, non-girly, non-pinky/lilacy spaces for you to chill in. Oh, and we make stellar coffee and steaks and breakfasts and will take excellent care of you. Our dogs will lick you and our child will drool on you, but that's all part of the love.
Seriously, people ... come feel the love. Dallas is lovely this time of year (if you don't mind horribly oppressive humidity and clouds of vampire bugs.) xoxo, Kris
Speaking of office ... this weekend, spontaneously, we decided to tackle the office/den/library/"man room." I say "we" as if Jerry had much choice. I tend to decide on a whim that these things must be done. He theoretically could not help me. But I think A) he's a very sweet man and so plunges himself into the effort with enthusiasm and B) fears the look in my eyes and what it could turn into should he not pitch in. I've said it before; will say it again -- I married the right man. He gets me and all my mostly unloveable idiosyncracies.
/tangent.
Anyway, this room had become:
1. Absolutely filthy with neglect
2. A storage room
Bikes and strollers were mixed in with mold and dust and bunnies and lord knows what else. Much cleaning solution and paper towelage were employed. Like, enough to bring a small forest back to life (in the paper towel dept. ... the cleaning solution was just enough to make me goofy on fumes).
We're not quite done yet, but the end result is rather nice. I finally got some pictures framed and displayed that were taken by my old friend and our wedding photographer, David Wood, 12 years ago on a tour of the Pacific Northwest. They look fantastic. I bought a huge but manly houseplant (this remains the "man room," after all) and a container for it that I liken to a tire. Again, the manly thing. As the coup de grace of manliness, I've decided that, rather than purchase a new media cabinet, I will decoupage our old one with old pinup prints for a really funky piece. I think I'm more excited about the possibilities than Jerry.
Anyway, it looks good, and I've now been blogging about cleaning and decorating for a few hundred words, and I should probably stop before this gets out of hand. I will end with the statement that should any of you who read this blog ever decide to come visit us (hint nudge hint nudge), we have some really lovely, non-girly, non-pinky/lilacy spaces for you to chill in. Oh, and we make stellar coffee and steaks and breakfasts and will take excellent care of you. Our dogs will lick you and our child will drool on you, but that's all part of the love.
Seriously, people ... come feel the love. Dallas is lovely this time of year (if you don't mind horribly oppressive humidity and clouds of vampire bugs.) xoxo, Kris
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