What Mommy Looks Like

Today, Fletcher noticed his feet. And in true family form, he obsessed about them. He looked, he giggled, he kicked, and he "oh'd". Yes, those feet are mine. Yes, look I can MOVE them. ON COMMAND. I so am the MASTER of my feet. And on it went, with every waking moment of the day, save the one moment in which he did smile at Cooper (which was pretty cool in its own right).

And so this got me to thinking: what does The Boy see when he looks at his Mommy? Certainly, he sees an object of adoration and affection, but I have to ask, does he adore Mommy in the way that Daddy adores, say, and I'm just saying, a juicy beef filet? With creamed spinach. And, oh yes, fried onion strings. Because nothing spoils a juicy filet like a side of onion. I'm telling you, come around dinner time, which for Fletch is about, oh, every 2 hours (on the money), that boy gets a look in his eye. Have you ever seen the Bugs Bunny cartoons where Elmer Fudd is so hungry that when he looks at Bugs he sees a cooked turkey? (Of course, this begs the question why Fudd simply did not see a cooked rabbit, but I digress.) THAT is how Fletch looks at him Mom at dinner time. He sticks his fist in his mouth and smacks. Loudly. Oh, come here, you Deliverer of Milken Elixer. You know what I want. (click here for sound)

Has any other Dad observed this? Just me then? Right.

And, to punctuate his point, as if we were not clued into the fact that The Hunger stirs, The Boy grew tired with us and belted out an Impatient Cry. With capital letters, yes. I have heard people tell me, "Oh, you will learn to tell your baby's different cries." I always thought they were full of hooey, or something that smelled close to hooey. No longer. I have now identified the Impatient Cry. It usually presents every 1 hour and 59 minutes, so I've had plenty of practice in observing said behavior. And I can distinguish it distinctly from the Vaccination Cry, which sounds like a blood-curtling hurl from the bowels of one's being, a Cry so vile that it moves otherwise stoic parents to tears. No, this is not a cry for the faint of heart. And perhaps because I have heard the VC, I can hear the IC and say simply to myself, "Damn, that boy can eat."

Hotel Crazy Paw-Paw

Welcome to the Hotel Crazy Paw-Paw.
Such a lovely place, such a lovely place.
Plenty of room at the Hotel Crazy Paw-Paw.
Any time of year, grandchildren spoiled here.

OK, Eagles tribute behind me, this weekend was a great little family trip to Houston for the in-laws surprise 20th anniversary party. Now, I should point out that my in-laws are certainly not old and decrepid by any stretch of the imagination, but neither are they exactly young. In short, I admit to being a bit uneasy yelling "SURPRISE!" to anyone once they have celebrated their 40th birthday. And 40 is long since in the rear-view here. Happily, no one sported the Crappie Flop on the floor, and it was a great party.

This was Fletcher's first sleep-over. PRODUCT RECOMMENDATION ALERT: Graco Pack-n-Play. The thing sets up and breaks down simply, packs compactly, and most importantly, most excellently serves as a travel crib. Most excellently? Did I really say that? Am I somehow channeling the spirit of Jeff "Surfs Up" Spicoli? Anyway. The Boy had no trouble sleeping.

Friday was awesome in that we were able to see my Dad, and Fletcher put on quite a show. I've been telling Dad how much Fletch is a little chatter-box, experimenting with vowels, consonants, and, occassionally, reciting Shakespeare. I am certain of it. But all he did at first was cry, and my Dad was like, "Really." No, Dad, I swear, the kid can orate with the best. Finally, toward the end of the visit, while Dad was holding him, Fletch put on quite the display for Grandpa, gigglin', gurglin', and squealin'. It was awesome.

Oh, and a word on "Grandpa." My Dad is "Grandpa." I heard him say, oh about two decades ago, when my brothers and sisters started spewing forth grandchildren, that he wanted to be called "Grandpa." This stuck with me, even as every last one of those grandchildren called him Paw-Paw. It's a southern-thang, I suppose. In any event, I laid claim to the name "Grandpa" for my Dad, and father-in-law was more than happy to lay claim to the name "Crazy Paw-Paw."

How will THAT work at holiday dinner? "Crazy Paw-Paw, please pass the biscuits. Crazy Paw-Paw, can I have some more pie?"

I am grateful that Fletcher's grandparents are so close.

SHOUTS OUT to our friends with whom we were able to meet this weekend: Kim, Jenny, Noah, Betsy and Tiny E! It was great seeing you all!!

Are you a slacker Mom?

OK, so I have no idea if this Google Ad will be up when you read this, since the ads change frequently, but you should check out the Slacker Mom Quiz. Good times.

Growing up fast

Jen walks into the study this morning, and shows me a sequence of photos we took of Cooper when he was but a young pup. Apart from being an extraordinarily funny sequence culminating in his barking full-puppy-throttle at the photographer (Jen) and with my being recorded comforting a visible agitated dog, this got me to thinking. First, Cooper has changed so much. Next, Fletcher has changed and will continue to change.

We've got a couple things going for us. One, this blog: I'm documenting the events for family, friends, and perfect strangers alike, to watch Fletcher change and grow over time. Second, digital photography. No longer do we have to PRINT photos. Plus, digital photography makes it so much easier to spoil the political aspirations of one's children, because, after all, who wants their child to be President? Sheez. I don't need THAT kind of attention. So, yuk it up, kiddo. Daddy is not far behind with the Nikon.

Two of the nurses (Teresa, and Sr. Linda) mentioned to us before leaving the hospital that we should take pictures of Fletcher at 1-month intervals, and to put together a montage of those photos to show how much he has changed. Well, we are now 2 months into this adventure, and I can tell you: Fletcher changes every day. Every. Single. Day. It's ALWAYS something, though sometimes subtle.

So, I'm not going to spoil the surprise and post month 1 and month 2 photos here in this post. I am sure the more enterprising among you can look back through the posts to see how much he has changed.

He is much bigger, though less swollen. Sleeps at more appropriate times. Personality is starting to emerge: laughs and jabbers. (I secretly fear my little boy is going to be the clown with a long list of "conduct cuts" because he cannot be quiet in class.) Hair is still red. Eyes are still blue. (Speaking of which, I still have a bone to pick with the milkman.)

Good coffee house in Austin

Jen and I took The Boy down to meet a friend and her young 'un at a cool coffeehouse. Irie Bean Coffee Bar had a really great "Cheers" type of feel to it. Jay, the owner, was pouring the espresso and finding time to play with Connor (the aforementioned "young 'un"). The feeling was "all irie, mon." Lots of regulars. Everyone knew everyone's name. Good coffee, quirky digs.

To me, and this is just me, this place seems like a good place for the Mommy Mafia, although apparently it has flown below their radar so far. Maybe that is part of the charm. Starbuck's it is not, and I think all the better for it. Look, I like Starbuck's. But as our friend Gina says, she is not about to let Connor run wild in Starbuck's! Here, they love Connor (and vice versa!), play with him, and the environment is very laid back.

Fletcher mostly slept, but when he was awake, we just fed him. And by "we," I mean The Mommy Unit. I mostly just watched and drank my coffee.

Laid back. Good on ya, Jay!

Fletcher goes to church!

Yesterday, we took Fletcher to church for his first time. We had been holding back, for fear of exposing him to so many people (and germs, to get right on the point). He did GREAT! As luck would have it, there was no nursery care during his first visit, so he got to get the whole church experience. He loved the singing and the lights, and, if he is anything like his pop, which he is, he loved all the attention!!

The sermon was from Romans 5:1-5, which I found quite fitting. It's about rejoicing, in good times and bad. Since Fletch has joined our lives, there has been a lot to rejoice about. He was/is absolutely worth the wait!

Oh, and he pooped his diaper TWICE during church. Good job.

As I write this, he is chillin' in his bouncey, playing with a toy parrot. It's the first time I've seen him ever express interest in the parrot (usually, he's all about the elephants or bears), and the first time I've seen him GRAB for something. It's pretty cool to watch. Not every Dad gets the chance, and I am thankful.

Nakedness, Please

If my boy was to have his druthers, he would explore the world wearing nothing but a smile. I say this, because everytime we try to change his clothes, he cries. The taking off of the old uniform -- not a problem. He giggles with glee. The putting on of the new one? Not so much.

Maybe one day when he can speak, he will 'splain it me.