One more for the road ...

OK, I couldn't resist posting these. I call this set of pics, "Wilder: Up Close and Personal."

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):

"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.

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!
 

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.

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.

Rawkin' Tub Time

Soaphawks are COOL.

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.

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.

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

A few recent shots

Wearing Pop's T-shirt, showing off his jawline ;-)


A reaction to a particularly riveting scene from "Finding Nemo"


Reading after bathtime with Papa


Pickmeup! Pickmeup!


You there!

This week: Nemo trumps Elmo

A couple of pix from last weekend's trip to the local sprayground. Our boy is getting big! And I'm happy to report the HyperBaby stage only lasted a few days ... for now. As for what's new in Wilder's world ... this week, he fell in love with Nemo. He will almost sit still through the entire movie, he loves it that much. Will try to post a few more photos here soon.

Oh. My. God.

Well, Wilder and I just returned from our first Toddler Time session at the local library. I signed up for it on a whim last week. I'm not a "joiner" -- never have been. But something about parenthood makes you temporarily insane -- a condition that leads you to believe you and your kiddo must hang out with those in both your peer groups. You know, complete strangers. Let the fun begin!

Yeah. Right.

In a room of complete strangers, you do not want to have the child who behaves like a crack baby. I have no idea what came over him. I mean, he's a very exuberant kid. He runs full-speed at life, and I love and admire that about him. But today we walked in that room, and it was like he snuck eight cups of coffee and perhaps an illegal narcotic or two somewhere between home and the library.

To make matters worse, all but one other mom and dad in there had a sweet, dress-clad, well-behaved little girl who sat quietly at her mother or father's side or in their lap. It's like they couldn't see the toys around the room that my son clearly COULD NOT WAIT TO GET HIS HANDS ON. OK, there was one other boy, but he wasn't smokin' from the same pipe my kid had, apparently.

Wilder had fun, no doubt. He was positively vibrating with excitement. I ran around after him trying to do what the lady in charge of the class told me to do. She said I should talk to him all day. "When you're at the grocery store," she encouraged, "pick up a can of green beans and say, 'These are green beans,' and continue to do that around the clock, until you're sick of hearing yourself talk." This lady clearly does not know me. I am not what you'd call the "perky" or "chatty" type. Still, I tried. And I imagine it was easy for the other moms, whose daughters were delicately picking through the toys while their mommies looked at me as if to say, "Do you keep him in a cage or what?!" But when your son is moving at 80 mph, it's difficult to verbally keep up with him. He'd pick up a puffball. "That's soft, isn't it kiddo?" I'd inquire. A red puffball. "Look hon," I'd continue. "It's re ...." And OFF he'd fly, to kick a ball or pick up a book or run to the door or shake a tambourine or rock the 2-month-old in his carrier or climb a chair or or or or ... My poor tired mother-of-a-runaway-train-boychild brain could not keep up.

I was the only mom who broke a sweat. Not joking.

I don't know if we'll go back. We probably will, at least once, just to see if there's a repeat performance, and because he clearly had such a fine time. I just don't know that I can take many more weeks of those women looking at me like I feed my son sugar cubes and keep him locked in the house.

Sigh. I'm exhausted. Thanks, blog peeps, for letting me vent.

Mother's Day 2007

It's not noon yet, but my Mother's Day has been awesome so far. Jerry made me breakfast in bed and he and Wilder joined me. I got the perfect card (below) and a book I can't wait to read. But the best present? After they'd surprised me, I leaned over and gave Wilder a squeeze and kiss on the cheek, and then gave Jer a kiss on the lips. Wilder then turned around, planted two big "mwah!" kisses on my mouth and flung his body across mine for a big hug. Wow.

And, because I can't let the day go by without saying it ... Happy Mother's Day Mama. Wherever you are in the universe, know you are terribly missed and that I think about you all the time. You were, beyond a doubt, one of the world's best. Love you.


Wilder and I enjoy breakfast in bed

I had to include this pic because kiddo looks so cute in it.

Great job on breakfast Jer! (He even took my desire to lose 20 lbs. before Kauai into account!)

Best. Mother's Day. Card. EVER.

Saturday! Saturday!

A few pics from our afternoon at the Dallas Arboretum:

A "vintage" yard chair?

Would have been a decent family portrait if it weren't for the little chipmunk's mouth full of raisins.

Doesn't he look like he's in on the joke?

Weeeeeee!

Oh man do I LOVE this pic of Jerry!

Those are some kickin' curls kiddo!

Wilder and Mama, ready to head west.

A good weekend so far ...

We had a really nice couple of days here. The weather's been amazing. Below are a few pics from our Friday. This morning we went out to breakfast at our favorite neighborhood haunt, The Garden Cafe. They've got this great patio out back surrounded by an enourmous organic garden, the products of which they use in their kitchen. All the garden beds have paths between them, so the kids can go crazy and the whole shebang is fenced in, so it gives us parents a nice break. If you go before 10 a.m. or so, there are always tons of families with kids. We met an exceptionally nice family -- father, two daughters and grandparents -- whom we talked to for quite some time waiting for our food. They had both Tennessee and Colorado experiences in their past, so plenty to talk about.

Wilder is a very friendly kid these days. When we walk in the afternoons, he waves and says "hi!" to everyone we pass. Today he went and stood in the middle of our tables, turning cirlces and waving "hi" to everyone. One older guy chuckled and asked if he was running for office (today happens to be election day in Dallas -- we have an 11-candidate mayor's race going on).

One more little story. After breakfast we went over to a neighborhood park, Lindsley Park. It's one of the better near our house. Great equipment, huge open areas to run in, good climbing trees, etc. A Hispanic family was preparing for a birthday celebration at the pavillion, and a nice old guy gave Wilder a green balloon. He threw it around for about 15 minutes. Throw, chase, pick up, hug, throw, repeat on endless loop. At one point he went to pick it up and pretty much fell on it and it popped. He spun around about eight times with this look of crazy bewilderment on his face. You could just tell he was thinking: "Balloon? Balloon????? Where'd you GO?!" It was kind of sad even though Jerry and I couldn't stop laughing. Anyway, Jer quickly hoisted the kid up on his shoulders and all was well. No crying or come-aparts.

Enjoy the pics, k.

2007-05-12

Bye bye Pampers?

No, no ... we're not fully potty-trained yet. I actually have a confession. I'm a horrible person because I use disposable diapers. I didn't want to. I wanted to try cloth and make it work, but I just knew it wasn't going to be practical for us. I can barely remember to launder my own britches. Seriously.

Anyway, enough unloading of guilt. There are a few fellow mommies who read this blog so from time to time I try to write about things that make our mommy-lives easier or are just plain good ideas. And I think I've stumbled upon something really cool that I'm at least going to try.

It's called gDiapers. The website totes them as "a new, earth-friendly hybrid" diaper that's "not cloth, not disposable." The idea seems ingenius. And they're really cute to boot. I'm already picturing Wilder in the red Hawaiian print for our September trip to Kauai. My little surfer boy!

Anyway, I think I'm going to order some and see how they work for Wilder. Might be hard to transition at this point, but we're going to give it a try.

I'll write a review on this blog once I get a good feel for how gDiapers hold up against good 'ol Pampers.

Son of a Brisket!

I realized in a flash last night that my momhood is now complete.

I was cooking brisket (nope, that's not it ... wait for it ...) and some of the sauce splashed out onto my arm. It hurt. Now, in the past, any number of colorful expletives would have come out of my mouth. I have a legendary pottymouth. One of my old nannies use to joke that my kid's first words would rhyme with "brother-chucker." However, when the sauce hit my arm, Wilder was nearby. So what did I say?

"Ouchy. Ouchy."

[Hangs head in shame.]

Oh dear ...

Tub Buddies

A brief rundown of Wilder's bath friends. I call out their names, he picks them up and hands the to me. Example: "Wilder, where's elephant?" (Cue really horrendous elephant sound interpretation by Wilder's mom; sounds more like a whale giving birth). Wilder looks amused, locates elephant, hands to mom.


Various farm animals (dogs live on farms)

An assortment of ducks (or, if you're Wilder, "duck ducks")

Other various creatures, thriving and extinct

PS. The more I look at these, the more that frog in the background freaks me out. Who IS that guy and why is he staring so hard??)

Wilder: 18 months, going strong

Wilder turned 18 months old this past Wednesday. We celebrated with a doctor's visit and three shots. Worst. Birthday. Celebration. Ever.

Anyway, all joking aside, it was an OK day. He hated the shots, of course, but recovered nicely. Here's the stats:

WEIGHT: 27 lbs., 8 oz. (97th percentile)
HEIGHT: 34.75 inches (50-75th percentile for age; 25-50 for height)
HEAD: 49.5 cm (95-97th percentile)

TRANSLATION: Tall kid, skinny, huge head.

He doesn't actually look that skinny, though. Doc still calls him chunk and cracks jokes about her back breaking when she picks him up. Ha ... funny doc.

In other developments, the kid's growing brain continues to amaze me. He's learning words I'm not even trying to teach him. Moon (points to sky). Plane (points to sky). Bubble (points to place he just passed wind in the tub ... I kid, I kid). He's also learned the letters "A" (because it's first) and "W" (for Wilder). The latter comes out dubba-ooh. Cute. He loves bringing picture books over to me, climbing in my lap and having me quiz him on what's where. And, finally, he's a wrestler extraordinaire these days. We've got some mattresses in the living room currently (long story, but rest assured it's not marital discord), and of course they make an excellent place to assault one's parents when they're not paying attention.

OK, enough momming out on details. ; ) Below are some photos from yesterday. We planted some flowers and vegetables last weekend and have been doing a lot of watering. Wilder is OBSESSED with water. Puts his head right into the spray, sticks his head under dripping plants, etc. Not sure what this says about him. But he gets pretty soaked, so some photos below of that, plus some of him and Jer roughhousing on the living-room bed.

Love to all, k.

(If you click on this photo to make it bigger, you can see just how much water this kid actually has on him. Wilder=waterbaby)