Keeghan started thinking it was fun to try to climb over the side of the bassinet, so it was time to stop using it as a changing table. It was hard to let go, because my Grandma picked it out just for Ian, but it was time for it to be useful somewhere else.
We moved this into his room, instead:
From the family archive. (Thanks, Uncle Barry.) You are looking at the Wise and Wonderful Betty Gray, back when she was the Wonderful Betty Lynch. Along with her sisters, Jean and Eileen.
If I’d known how very much I’d someday want my children to feel like they knew her, I’d have spent several weeks with her writing her childhood as a children’s book. I’d still like to do that, but it would have been more fun to collaborate with her.
I was looking for something else entirely when I happened upon this note I made, dated 10/6/2006:
Grandma said, “don’t worry about getting a big tummy. Just let it hang out. When I was young, we tried to hide everything, which to my mind is kind of stupid.”
(This, obviously, was in response to the news that the person we now know as Ian would be arriving the following summer.)
Cutest Monster EVER.
Daddy is out of town so we are making do as best we can, just the three of us. Which is nice because I have the boys all to myself but also hard because EVERYONE misses Big Loud Thing. (That’s a Doctor Who joke, right there. If you get it, well, good for you and if you don’t, well… it’s probably not that funny anyway.) So today, we had plans to go to the spray park. At noon. And I started trying to get this family ready to leave at 7 am, because that’s how things go when you have a four year old. People think it’s hard to get out of the house with a new baby. That’s bull. The baby has to bow to my will. He can’t move. He can’t talk. He just lays there and looks cute. He hardly even cries. In fact, I honestly think he just checks to make sure Big Milk Thing is around and then goes along for the ride. (That’s the rest of the Doctor Who joke. Non-geeks can just move along.)
Now, honestly, this should have been no sweat, because after spending an entire day refusing to nap anywhere but in Raba’s arms, Keeghan was back to loving his crib today. (In case you’re out of the loop… Yesterday at 11:22: “so far today every time I try to put Keeghan in his crib for a nap he works himself up and cries. Then, when I hold him, if I don’t tuck his legs up under him JUST LIKE Raba does, more tears. Dimples when I get it right. And the grandparent spoiling has officially begun at age 6 weeks and 4 days.”) So we had a good hour of Mommy + Ian time to get ready for a fun afternoon. But the fact that Ian had been carrying on an oppositional, “No yes no yes no yes no yes” argument WITH HIMSELF so far that morning should have clued me in. We spent TWO HOURS on getting dressed. In reality this means he spent a lot of time naked and wandering the house. We’re trying to work on the goal of efficient, self driven dressing in the mornings around here because well… Mommy’s hands are full and her ability to sit in your room handing you clothing one item at a time is probably going to be impinged upon by epic diaper blowouts once Daddy returns to work next week.
Mr. Hyde
Which is when Ian ran out of his room naked and panicky shouting, “THEY’RE CLOSING. THEY’RE CLOSING. THEY’RE CLOSING THE SPRAY PARK. MOMMY, HELP ME GET READY.” He wasn’t playing. He was seriously afraid that he was going to miss it because he wasn’t dressed. Which for some reason did not prompt him to just… put on his clothes. We pushed through this somehow… I honestly don’t remember. It’s either the new mom brain or I’ve just had a psychotic break. Anyway, we went to the spray park, which turned out not to be as challenging as I thought, because I was able to park the baby in the shade at a strategic location where I could see Ian almost the entire time we were there and he’d come check in every few minutes. Which is an awesome example of why I LOVE HAVING A FOUR YEAR OLD. He’s old enough to be independent and that is SO COOL. We call this behavior “Dr. Jekyll.”
However, while at the park, he also screamed at several little kids, punched a woman, pestered anyone foolish enough to speak to him, and generally raised Cain. Hello, Mr. Hyde. Why do you even stop by? Your manners are terrible. You whine. You fixate. You rage. To wit: When we got home from the spray park, Ian wanted burgers. I said, “no sweat! We’ll cook up some burgers!” At which point Ian announced, “But you cannot have cheese on yours, Mommy. Cheese is only for me.” Hm. The problem here is that you never know when one of these proclamations is going to arc over from “funny things kids say” to “accede to my demands or I’ll kill all the hostages.” So I COULD have been looking forward to an evening of dragging Ian, kicking and screaming (which unfortunately is not a metaphor when you are dealing with Mr. Hyde) to his room, over and over, all because I enjoy my burgers, WHICH I MYSELF AM PREPARING, with cheese. But it didn’t happen. Hello, Dr. Jekyll. I’m glad you arrived while the burgers were cooking. Everyone loves you. You are charming, sweet, polite, and funny. Also, you give awesome hugs. And you have a GREAT smile.
Dr. Jekyll, with friend Gregory, as Zoo Animals, which is more appropriate than you know.
Some days are all Dr. Jekyll and a few, thankfully rare, ones are almost all Mr. Hyde. But there are also days when it’s like living with a fast cycle bipolar disorder patient- he switches from Jekyll to Hyde repeatedly, rapidly, and WITH NO WARNING. I feel like I’m one of those lumberjacks riding a log rolling down the river, moving as fast as I can not to be tipped off into the river where I’ll be hit on the head with my own log, drown, and die. And this is when my Grandma Gray would have said: “If you aren’t lucky enough to have a family, then these things never happen to you.”
Grandma, you were SO RIGHT.
Blood pressure is good, baby’s heart rate is good, my blood sugar has stabilized on medication, and I’m weighing in at 198.5. Looks like the weight gain has FINALLY slowed, which is good. I had been gaining 2 pounds a week or more, so just over a pound per week looks pretty good to me. I’m not vain about it (and my wise and wonderful Grandmother once said “people worry now too much about things that are not important- like getting fat when you have a baby,” which was great advice) but it is hard work carrying all this extra weight around!
Since we have now seen a scrotum on the ultrasound and therefore know we must buckle down and pick a name appropriate for one of the male sex (yes, sadly, we’ve admitted that “Catherine,” however lovely, is not appropriate at this juncture), we decided to consult the baby’s family tree in search of famous rogues, notorious personages, and baby name ideas. What we mainly found was the fascinating history of ordinary people- and a few names we WON’T be using. A sample follows, for your amusement and inspiration. I promise you, I am not making ANY of these up- each and every one is the given name of one of this child’s male ancestors. There were also a great many solid Johns, Roberts, Williams, and Thomases to be found- plus at least one Dick and one Harry. So there you have it.
Otto
Elijah
Ottilie
Erwin
Adolphus
Ebenezer
Orion
Phineas
Asa
Moses
Hiram
Adelbert
Eliakim
Orin
Azor
Sylvanus
Ransom
Jebediah
Selar
Theophil
Levi
Erastus
Orrin
Joe Bob
Sven
Parmenas
Jeptha
Enos
Marmaduke
Appleton (surname: Beckwith. I mention this because A) This was one of my favorite names on the family tree and B) it appears more than once. Which means someone spent his entire life introducing himself as “Appleton Beckwith” and still named someone after himself.)
Albertus
Adaeu
Phineas
Hercules
PS: Thanks are owed to the tireless geneaology research done by my dad, and to the bottomless archive of my Grandma’s memory. A great deal of what we know about our family history is due to things she remembered, and Dad tracked down in the historical record.
It was our first truly cold & blustery day of the year. Mister went with me while I performed my civic duty, and on our walk home (my polling place is less than a quarter of a mile away- seemed silly to drive when I’d be nearly home before I found a parking spot) he started telling me he was cold and wanted to go inside… guess the park wasn’t such a good plan, after all. Fortunately, the local Soft Play Room had open play time that morning, so we headed right over. As you can see, Mister managed to dredge up a little enthusiasm for the day after all.
He’s also been talking about voting ever since. Grandma Gray would be proud. She used to call me every year to make sure I voted. No worries, Grandma. I did.
Great Grandma Gray would be proud. On the way home from Ian’s firstest ever swim lesson today, we kept passing yard sales in our neighborhood. No surprise- it’s a beautiful day and at this time of year who knows how many more gorgeous Saturdays there will be? Every time we passed one, Ian would point out the window and say, “Find somewhere to park yours car, Mommy. I want to get out.”
We finally got home and he said, “Mommy, I want to go shopping.” So we grabbed the little red wagon and went to a couple of the yard sales in the neighborhood. For a grand total expenditure of $1, we brought home a mint condition, hardcover copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, two race cars, and a plastic work bench. What can I say, the little dude drives a hard bargain.
(PS- The swim lesson was a don’t ask/don’t tell kind of experience. I wish I had a photo for you of him squatting by the side of the pool, his face streaked with tears, yelling that he wanted to go home while all the other kids had fun in the water. Good times. Of course, as soon as we got dressed when the lesson was over, he announced that he wanted to go back.)
I’ll fly away, oh Glory
I’ll fly away in the morning
When I die Hallelujah, by and by
I’ll fly away.
When the shadows of this life have gone
I’ll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls I’ll fly
I’ll fly away.
Alison Krauss & Gillian Welch
Photo courtesy of mikebaird via flickr creative common
