Lesson Learned

On a whim Tony and I decided to take Des to the New England Aquarium today. It was cloudy and rainy out, so we were looking for a fun indoor activity.

The fact that it was the first icky weekend day all month should have tipped us off to stay away from any 'fun indoor activity,' unless it was in our own home. Ahh hindsight...

We found cheap parking in the city and walked around the waterfront. We don't venture to that part of the city often, so we took our time watching the boats and seagulls and tourists.

By the time we arrived at the aquarium there was a massive, snaking line from the entrance alllll the way back to the street. This can't be the ticket line, can it? No, it's probably for a duck tour or whale watch or I dunno, is Harry Potter himself here?? No such luck. It was the ticket line. We thought we planned it so we would miss the rush!

There was no way Des was going to sit still in this line. So we pushed the stroller over to the exterior seal exhibit, trying to decide what to do. Des LOVED the seals. Well, at first he was scared. He nearly jumped out of his skin when one of them swam by. It was really funny. We are the kind of parents who find our child's initial terror of harmless situations side-splittingly hilarious. But after that, he was pointing and yelling at them, like, "HI THERE, I SEE YOU SEAL, YOU ARE SWIMMING AND I LOVE YOU," kind of yelling. Aww, look he loves them!

Despite the fact that we were thinking of nixing the aquarium idea and walking around the city for the afternoon, Des's adoration of the seals made me want to take him inside. How much would he love the penguins and turtles and shiny fish as far as the eye can see? But that line. No effin way, is what I said to that line.

"Damn, we coulda bought tickets online and printed them at home," Tony said. "I wish I thought of it."

"What if we went to Kinkos?" I am truly brilliant sometimes. FedEx/Kinkos was just a couple blocks away. We'd be there and back before most of these people even make it halfway to the ticket window.

So that's what we did. And I was so proud of myself for coming up with that plan. All those people waiting in line are clearly not as smart as we are. But as we made our way back to the aquarium, printed tickets in hand, I had a thought. All those people waiting. Those hundreds of people... they're going to be inside eventually. Every one of them, in those dark aisles and along the edges of tanks, congested and crowded. The wind went out of my sail. Ohhh crap.

See, I'm not so good in those situations. I like bright, under-populated, wide open spaces where me and my kid can run around. So umm.. what was I thinking again?

Welp, we paid $50 for this, we might as well go in at this point. And as soon as we walked in the doors, my fears were justified. Wall-to-wall people. The last time I had been here I was in elementary school. I recalled it being A LOT bigger. But maybe that's the claustrophobia talking.

Despite the crowds, it wasn't all bad. Des actually enjoyed himself for the most part, and that's what it's all about, right folks? Unfortunately I had a minor anxiety attack in the middle of the starfish exhibit where it felt like the walls were closing in on me and I was going to be sucked spinning into the tile floor. So for the most part Tony handled Des, and I handled the stroller and the arduous task of keeping my shit together.

When I was breathing at a normal pace, it was so fun to see Des's reactions to all the surroundings. The penguins were his buddies. The shark scared him to death at first, as it did ME, and the turtles were as a big as cars. But he loved it all. And it's always an amazing experience to see this world from a fresh set of eyes. Especially when my old eyes are polluted with stupid anxiety.

Check out these ooh's and aah's (if you listen past the crowd noise):


These pics are a bit blurry due to poor lighting, constantly moving subjects, and my piss-poor photography skills. But you get the gist.




Penguin buddies!


Just like St. John


Puffer fish


I love coral




Also, turtles


"Oh Holy Jesus!" was my very loud reaction amongst the crowd of young children.
"Rawr!" was Des's.


Starfish


Sweet, sweet fresh air


Moving freely is awesome


Me and my turtle boy

Side note: Best of luck to Auntie Jaclyn on her trip back east from California!! We can't wait to see her. And her 'lovie' is going to give her the biggest most excited smiles and hugs ever. She has no idea.

Trains, Planes, and... Make it stop already

Desmond inherited a big bin full of Thomas trains. Every morning, the first thing he does after we walk downstairs is to reach for the bin and whine until we open it, “eh eh eh.” Then he spends the next half hour taking out each train one by one, lining them up in a circle all around him.



The original owner, Des’s cousin Liam, was obsessed with Thomas a few years ago. Liam would sit on the floor with the thick Thomas catalogue, pointing and naming every train from memory before he could even read. The names of close family members would often slip his mind (his famous saying was, “Who are you again?”), but heck if he couldn’t pick Diesel 10 out of a line up!

Truthfully, I’ve always been a bit creeped out by Thomas and his friends. Gray clay-like faces on the front of giant steel machines. They spoke in British accents and used weird words like “cross” and “chuff.” They answered to a man in a top hat and tuxedo jacket. They didn’t have limbs. What if they had an itch on their face?? These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

Des didn’t understand that his favorite bin was full of Thomas trains. He’s just always been fascinated with trucks and cars and anything with wheels. These could have been all of the above. Fun!

Well, he didn’t understand they were Thomas trains until recently.

Tony, in his infinite nerdiness, decided he wanted to learn the names of all the trains. As Des picked each one out, Tony tested himself aloud with the names. Apparently, Des started remembering too. Recently I asked him, “Where’s Spencer?” He stood over the bin, staring into it. Then he shuffled his hand inside and pulled out the sleek silver train. Spencer. Thinking it was a fluke, I asked, “Okay, where’s Toby?” I could see his eyes searching, then his hand feeling around, and out came the brown square train. Toby.

Wow, that's amazing! Impressive! Scary as hell!

And oh greeeeat.

He’s only seen a few episodes of the TV show. But now that he’s learning who Thomas and his friends are, he gets SUPER PSYCHED when it comes on.

Exhibits A through Z:


I guess I have to get over my creepy Thomas issues.


Anything for this face.

Blowing the Stink Off

Des had a bit of an off day at daycare. He was in a fine mood, played well with others, ate all his snacks and lunch. But the napping... oh the napping. His caretaker tried twice, but Des just cried and cried. We've been having some sleep issues recently. And coming off of a weekend always makes it worse.

Needless to say, his mood by the time he got home was less than desirable.

It had rained most of the day, but the skies finally cleared after dinner. As Des sat whining through another episode of Chuggington, I finally said, "He needs to get out and blow the stink off him."

"What, does he stink?" Tony said.

"No, he's been cooped up, he's cranky, he needs to run around in the fresh air. Blow the stink off of him."

He looked at me like I had two heads. I was shocked he had never heard this phrase. My mother must have said that EVERY DAY growing up, 'Get out and blow the stink off ya!' I assumed every mom said that. I plan on keeping the phrase alive.

As we put our shoes on, Tony said, "Okay Des, let's go outside and get that smell out."

I laughed. "It's blow the stink off!"

And as soon as we got out there, put Des down on the wet grass and let him run around the yard, he was a new boy. He was our boy.


This, my love, is what blowing the stink off looks like.

(Sorry for the skinny iPhone video. We have a flip. We should probably use it.)

Sometimes You Just Need a Day

To take a random Wednesday off, despite certain urgencies at work. To hit the road with your baby in the back seat and a couple of towels in a bag. One day to leave the laptop at home. To use the phone to take pictures only.


To splash in the waves.


To dig in the sand.

To run.

To fall.

To laugh.

To make memories.

Today I went to the water with my boy. He is such a beach baby, lucky for me. It was just me and him and that gorgeous ocean air. I wish days like this could happen more often. But then maybe they wouldn't feel so special.

Fingernails

Desmond does not have a lovie. Or a blankie or a binkie or whatever you call it. He has his thumb and... us. He's a snuggler in a major way. Every morning he'll cuddle in our bed with us for a half hour or an hour, as we're all still groggy and hesitant to wake up. During the day he'll often climb up on our laps for a snuggle break. And at night before bed it's snuggle-palooza.

It's not overly frequent or clingy, although he has his days. It's mostly just every once in a while. And when he's done, he's on his way getting into everything and tearing the house apart.

Instead of a blanket or teddy bear, as he snuggles he'll rub our fingernails. His left thumb in his mouth and his right hand stroking the nail bed of one of our fingers. He shares this habit with others, grandparents, aunts, uncles, his day care provider. He's an equal opportunity fingernail-rubber. It sounds weird, I know.

But no. Here's what's weird...

One of my most vivid memories of Desmond's birth was when they put him on my chest right after he came out. (Of course that would be vivid, right?) I looked him all over, beside myself with joy, completely fascinated that I grew this perfect person inside of me and now he was on the outside. But mostly I stared at his fingernails. For some reason I was fixated on them, like tunnel vision amidst all the chaos and excitement. At that moment, his fingernails were the most flawless, sublime thing about him. They meant he was okay, healthy, HERE in the flesh. And I rubbed them. Gently between my thumb and index finger, I squeezed each tiny pink nail one at a time. Unbelievably small, but so so strong.

Every time he climbs up on my lap, every time, I think about those moments right after he was born. Even as he continues to grow at such a feverish pace I feel like I can't keep up, every day he brings me back to that time when he was so tiny I could hold all of him in my arms.



He'll have his thumb in his mouth and if sometimes I'm not fast enough to provide a hand, he'll whine, reaching for it. And when he finally finds my hand, my finger, my nail, he rubs softly. As if reminding me that he's still my baby boy.


Always.

What Des Learned on Vacation v.2

I don't know how or when it happened. But Desmond learned how to answer a simple question in a way that will crack up a room full of people. And himself. He is his father's son.



"Des, are you poopin'?"

You have no idea how many times we've asked him that, and it never gets old. Hours of hilarity.

GRUNT.

What Des Learned on Vacation v.1

I'm still suffering from a major case of Real World Re-entry Depression, so the next few blog updates will likely be St. John/vacation related. You have been warned.

Desmond learned a lot while we were away. It was like we flew down with a baby and came back with a little kid. I always suspected that island was magic, but now I know.

We were able to capture many of his mad skills on the Flip cam. And I just keep watching these dozen or so 30-60 second clips over and over. Here are the first clips in the series of What Des Learned On Vacation.





We have a walker, folks.

I know I posted previously about his first steps. But since then the extent of his walking ventures were 1 or 2 steps, and then crouching down to a crawl because, you guys? That whole center of gravity thing is way more stable down there. And so are toys. They're all just laying there on the floor, might as well just get down there with 'em.

Somewhere between the beach and the villa, we saw a switch flip in his head.

So wait, I can hold 2 toys AND transport them from here to there while remaining at the same level the whole time? And then my Nana will loudly rejoice and shower me with praise?? Yes please!

For real, the kid likes to put on a show. This is a whole new side of him. He sees people psyched he's doing something, and he wants to do it over and over. Simply adorable.

Now we're home and he's walking all over the house and he's already taken a header off the coffee table with a nice little shiner to show for it. Home kinda sucks.

First Airplane Ride

We're home from North Carolina, where we were visiting cousins John, Abbie, and Carly. They moved a year ago and it took us this long to get down there, shame on us. So we finally got to see where they've been living this past year and hang out in their new territory. Dang, we miss those guys up here in New England. But they've made a nice little home in the South.

This trip was also a chance to get Desmond used to traveling. It's about a 2 hour plane ride to NC, so it's a nice quick trip to get us started, since we have some longer rides in our future. I had no idea how nervous I would be, even for this short get away. Visions of toddler tantrums in a tiny tin can airplane cabin ran through my head. Followed by the inevitable mommy meltdown, where I'd be pulling out my hair and raiding the drink cart for mini bottles of vodka.

I work with people who travel frequently. I hear some of them complain about kids on planes often. And I know I should be all "Eff 'em," but I'm not going to lie... I feared that we would be those people. The ones people would go home and tell their friends about.

"Oh my god, on the flight there was this kid who would NOT. SHUT. UP. Kicking the seat, crying, and the parents just let him do it! I mean, if you're going to take your kid on a plane, learn to control them, fer chrisakes."

Commence nail biting. And not sleeping. And pooping my brains out.

But seriously? I'm learning to just say it... Eff 'em.

Des had a few breakdowns, yes. On take off and landing mostly. The tell-tale grabbing of the ears told me the pressure was getting to him, poor kid. We did all the things they say are supposed to help... drinking out of a bottle (he doesn't take a bottle, so a sippy), sucking on a paci (he doesn't take a paci, so his thumb), eating lollipops (which he flat out rejected, who is this kid?). The only thing that seemed to help was chewing on snacks of Cheerios and dried fruit. But still. He screamed. And I silently apologized to all the passengers around us. And then I quickly stopped caring about anyone around us because my kid was in pain. And all we could do was try our best to help him.

So some people were inconvenienced in 3-5 minute increments a couple times on their flight. Amazing how much worry I put into it, and yet how easy it was to just GET OVER IT.

Oh, and then there was that time in the middle of the flight when he choked on a pretzel, freaked out, freaked US the hell out, and then vomited the contents of his stomach into my hands. So that was exciting!

But I have to say, when all was said and done, it went amazingly well. He was mostly in great spirits, slept for a good chunk, was kept entertained by the DVD player, and happy to sit in my lap. We could not have asked for anything better.




LOVING the aiport. "VROOM VROOM"... constantly. His lips must have been numb from all the vrooming.


Big mush.


Sleeping soundly after Aero-vomit-fest-2011. We were both a little spent.

More pics and updates on NC to come.

Milestones

Desmond has always been a bit on the slow side of average on the milestone charts, with everything except growth (he's a BIGGUN'). I'm not calling my kid slow, he's just... deliberate. There, that sounds nice. And we've been very patient, I think. Despite the constant reminders from Random Internet Mommies proudly regaling the world wide web that their child walked at 9 months! Spoke in phrases at 1 year! Got their masters right after Kindergarten! And that's awesome. Brag away. I would/have/will too. It's every mom's right.

Des will [insert milestone here] eventually, because he always does. Just on his own time. So even if we have to remind ourselves sometimes, we sit back and enjoy him as he is on this very day, without worry or concern or fear of judgment. We've learned how fast it all goes. (Holy hell, have we.) And we know what a gigantic, life-altering adjustment it can be moving from one step to another. Breast milk to formula, liquids to solids, rolling over, crawling, smiling, laughing, talking... I count it as my own little blessing that I have a few extra breaths to relish each stage.

But... There IS one big milestone we have been on the edge of our seats waiting for... His first steps.

He has been strongly standing on his own for weeks. We can stand him up in the middle of any room and he'll just hang out, standing there like a tree. If he feels the need to move, he'll lower himself down to crawl away. When standing, his feet are glued to the ground. The whole lifting a knee and stepping one foot in front of the other... Meh, not his thing.

Des turned 15 months old on Friday. Again, a bit on the late side for not walking yet, depending on who you ask. But hey, that's fine! Take your time, little man! Heck, if you can put it off until after our upcoming travels, all the better. These milestones are always super accommodating like that, right?

Well...

Yesterday, I was in the kitchen and Tony yelled from the living room, "He just took 3 steps!!"

Of course, I dropped whatever dish I was washing and ran the hell in there. And... nothing. He would not repeat the performance for mommy, no matter how much we prodded.

"I swear, I stood him up in front of me and he walked right into my arms!"

"I believe you, honey. It just FREAKIN FIGURES I wasn't here to see it."

But I'm not bitter.

Because today I stood him in front of me and 3 separate times, he walked to me. The screech of glee that came out of me was like nothing I've ever heard. Each time he did it, I'd grab him and squeeze him and go "GOOD JOB OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO AWESOME BAYBEEEE!!"

This voice was foreign to me. I was possessed by complete joy and I could not contain myself.

And tonight, it happened again, this walking thing:


And despite my subdued voice at the end of the video saying "Good enough, buddy," I assure you I am beaming inside with that same possessed joy as earlier.

Once the novelty wears off, the screeching may be more in panicked terror as he takes a nosedive off the deck. But I'm relishing in the moment now.

It was a big day, Desi boy. I'll remember today forever.

Haircut Round 2

One day recently I looked over at Des and his bangs were hanging in his eyes. Then I noticed hair starting to creep down his neck and over his ears. Weren't we just here? Didn't we just have that whole exciting haircut experience, like, yesterday? Okay so I guess it was more like 3 months ago. But still. That seems really fast. If this is going to be an every 2-3 month thing, I might just have to buzz it like daddy's. Boys are so high maintenance!

If Desmond's hair had a little curl to it, he might able to rock the shaggy do, Jo-Bro style. But unfortunately it is stick straight (dad's genes, not mine), so it looks all raggedy and straw-like. My cute little scarecrow.



Off the barber we go!

We tried 2 different days, and the lines were ridiculous. When we went the last time in January it was on a weekday afternoon. So I'm sensing there might be an issue with the weekends. These suburban dudes and their grooming while surrounded by animal carcasses.

It was getting to the desperation point with his hair. I was resorting to hats, every day with the hats. So after a 3rd attempt at our regular barber, all with 30+ minute waits (no thank you!), we finally decided to try out the kid's salon, Snip Its. Over stimulation, over prices and all.

This experience was entirely different from the barber, obviously. But not in a bad way. We waited about 20 minutes, and Des kept himself quite entertained. For a while he just sat on my lap with his thumb in his mouth, taking in all the scenery: kids running around, bright colors, fun music. Once he got his bearings, he was off to investigate puzzles and books and games. He was really into this submarine-looking thing.


Whenever there's a button, he's there to push it... over and over and over.

When it was time for the haircut, he was not that excited about getting in the chair. We had another little boy next to us screaming his lungs out, so that may have made him nervous. And that kid had a lot of hair, poor guy.

So while the chair and the cape and the unknown lady with sharp things were all scary at first, he loosened up and did amazingly well. Just a few whines and only a little blood. The stylist nicked herself on the finger pretty good when Des turned his head suddenly. Hey, better her than him! Sorry lady.

His mood was helped by the dancing cartoons on TV! And bubbles! And animal crackers! And lollipops!



Good lord, the pops. If the stylist needed Des to look down so she could get the back of his hair, I just had to hold the pop down by his lap and he'd bend his neck down, his lips open like a fish reaching toward the sweet sweet sugary goodness. I couldn't contain the laughter.

Of course, he looks stinking precious with his new big boy cut. And after a few days, it's a little less Lloyd Christmas...



... and much more Desmond Jack

Hunger Strike

It's 9:00am.

Things I have tried to feed my child today:
- waffle
- hash brown
- banana
- blueberries
- peaches
- blueberry muffin
- yogurt
- fruit puree
- shredded cheese

Things he has eaten:
-

Things he has thrown on the floor:
- See: Things I have tried to feed my child today

Things he would rather do than eat:
- Cry, whine, scream, etc.
- Figure out the child safety locks on every drawer in the house

- Play with cat toys
- Climb the stairs
- Watch Toy Story 2 for the 1 billionth time

Des is dealing with another cold accompanied by a fever, hence the lack of eating. We usually can't keep up with his massive appetite. His daycare provider, who has been taking care of kids for 16 years, says she's never seen a kid eat like he does. So this hunger strike is foreign and frustrating. I'm home with him today. We're just trying to survive on juice, Motrin, and as few tears (from either of us) as possible.

Send healthy, happy baby vibes our way!

The One Where I Talk About Boogers

Have I mentioned how brutal this cold season has been? Not so much for the adults in the household, but for the little one with the growing immune system.

It's always the same pattern. One week Desmond suffers through a disgusting cold, the next week he improves every day, has 2-3 days of seeming complete health, and then we'll hear a single cough in the night. The next morning, it's back to square one. The cold is usually the same too. It includes a cough that starts off dry and hacky and gradually gets more and more stuff behind it, until he's coughing up shrapnel. His face is swollen with congestion. And oh the snot. I could write a book about it. Dry green stuff, runny yellow stuff, the thin bubbles of mucus that inflate and then pop.

Wiping his nose is like trying to put a cat in a bathtub. There's flailing and screaming and pinning down of limbs. The mom and dad tag-team effort is the best way to go, with one person holding legs and arms and the other bracing the head and wiping. Obviously when it's just one of us this method is not possible. In that case we just kinda throw tissues in his general direction and hope for the best.

I used to be one of those people who found it off-putting to see a child out and about with a runny nose. Ha... haha. Oh sweet, naive me. Little did I know. To avoid that I'd either have to never leave the house or tape a folded tissue to his nostrils.

In all of our snot struggles, we have found one of the most vile and amazingly effective products out there. The NoseFrida:

Otherwise known as the SnotSucker

You literally suck your kid's boogers out with a tube. There's a filter in the middle so there's never any snot-to-mouth action. But still. It's a miracle I even purchased this without gagging. The reviews are amazing and we were desperate. And I could not be any happier that I pushed through the chunks in my throat and bought this thing.

It still takes a good wrangling to get him to sit still, but the process is quick and efficient. I'll admit it. I'm in love with the Snot Sucker.

I talk about it more in my latest column. Feel free to check it out.

Thing I Never Thought I'd Type

I just sent this update to Tony via instant message:

des ate his first booger
there was a big one on his cheek, i could see it when i went in to get him from his nap
but i couldn't wipe it right away cuz he was crying, so i just picked him up and rocked him for a bit
then when he lifted his head the boog was gone and there was something in his mouth
he had his 'new food face' on and then swallowed it before i could try to fish it out
then he drank all his milk
so i'll just count that as his snack

Life. It's wicked glamorous.


Checking out J.Crew, playing with necklaces, and eating shnoogs. What?

Winter Blues

We have been battling an illness over the past few weeks. And by 'we' I mean our poor sweet baby, while Tony and I are popping Zicam like they're breath mints and doing everything short of buying him a pony to keep Des from being miserable. There's nothing sadder than a sick kid, especially when it's your own. After a long day, Tony and I lay in bed talking about how much we wish we could be sick for him. How there should be an invention that can suck out whatever parasite is poisoning our son and inject it into ourselves. How we would very happily provide a cozy home for any virus, as long as it stayed the heck out of our baby.

Dear Geniuses in the Fields of Science and Smart Things, Please invent said mechanism on behalf of parents everywhere. Shanks.

Des had his 12-month well visit with the pediatrician and we found out that he's, well, not so well. At least, not well enough to have his scheduled shots. He had some congestion and a slight cough for a while, but he was eating and sleeping fine and his spirits were up. So we didn't think much of it. But after the doctor spent an unusually long time looking into his ears, he told us that he did in fact have a bad cold and an ear infection. Happy first birthday little dude!

We're on our 2nd round of antibiotics, after the first round didn't quite do the trick. Giving it the old 1-2 punch. For those that are not aware, antibiotics produce amazing works of art in diapers, let me tell you. There was even one when I considered yelling to Tony to grab the camera, but I thought better about achieving that new low. Not yet, mama... give it time.

Despite some understandable bouts of crankiness, Des has been a trooper. Even through the ear pain, fevers, and yucky congestion. We go back to the doctor for the 3rd time next week, in the hopes that everything is cleared up and he can finally get his shots.

And for those that are interested in this kind of stuff, Desmond's 12-month stats are:
Height: 32" (95th percentile)
Weight: 24.4 lbs (70th percentile)

The doctor says he'll be tall and lean like his dad. And that he will "tower over mom." I'm hoping for 6'5", 230 pounds, laser rocket arm. But really, as long as he's healthy it doesn't matter. Right now, health is what we're striving for!


Feel better, budzo.

The Gift of Gab

If Tony wasn't around, this would be a very quiet house.

He talks a lot. To Des, to me, to the tv, on the phone. He sings songs, real and made up. Having lived together for 10 years, I'm certainly used to it and have never minded. It keeps me entertained.

Just lastnight, as I was doing the dishes and Tony was feeding Des, he said to nobody in particular, "Mmm, blueberries. Nature's... blueberry."

WHAT? I almost peed myself.

It must be a genetic thing because his sister is the same way. When she was our roommate I would hear her talking to the refridgerator as she prepared her lunch. It's fascinating to me, this gift of gab.

So far, Des seems to have taken on my traits when it comes to conversation and general disposition. He babbles a whole slew of syllables and screeches if the mood strikes him. But for the most part he's a pretty quiet kid. Calm and content. He has mastered The Serious Face. He's satisfied to listen and observe, and then he'll pipe in every once in a while with something exceedingly witty and intelligent. Yup, just like mom.

Taking him to stores and restaurants is an easy experience. He sits back and looks around most of the time, pointing at interesting things as if to show his approval. He never really says anything back when the waitresses say hi or tell him he's cute, but he will stare at them until they are out of plain sight. Creepy kid.

I bite my lip a little when I think that Desmond might be more like me in this area. Not that being quiet in itself is a negative thing. But I don't want him to feel shy or insecure, as I have felt in the past. I don't want him to think that he is anything less than the most amazing kid on the planet. Tony is the opposite of me... outgoing, charming, confident. He makes people feel comfortable. Sure he talks a lot, but people also go to him because they know he'll listen.

It's early yet. Des's personality is still forming and coming out in adorable snipits. I'm hoping that he will take on more of the friendly, outgoing personality traits of his father. If not through genetics, then just from exposure to things like "nature's blueberry."

Edited to add photographic evidence of The Serious Face:


photo stolen from Jaclyn S.

Desmond's First Year Slideshow

For your viewing pleasure, if you have a spare 9 minutes in your life:



Songs:
"First Day of My Life" - Bright Eyes
"Three Little Birds" - Bob Marley (orig), covered by Elizabeth Mitchell
"Glow" - Donavon Frankenreiter

I still can't watch it without crying. But I'm a sap like that. And ya know, it's my kid 'n all. My baaayybeee, I mean.

The best part of watching this with everyone at Desmond's party was cousin Katie pointing and yelling "DES!" at every. single. photo. That girl is a hoot.

Tony and I had so much fun making this. Enjoy!

First Haircut

It's been obvious for a while that Des needed a haircut. The bangs were past his eyes and the back was starting to cascade down the collar of his shirts in a very mullet-like fashion. It cannot be tamed, no matter how many passes with a comb I take at it. And unfortunately, the hairclip for little boys has not been invented yet. I'm putting a request in to the creators of the European shoulder bag to get on that.

I've been reluctant to cut it. As you know, I'm not usually sentimental. But I kept looking at his hair thinking, that's the same hair he had the day he was born. And when he was growing inside my belly we had no idea he'd come out with this full head of dark hair. Over time it gradually got lighter, as we figured it would (Tony's hair was white-blonde as a kid and mine has always been on the fair side). But it's still the same hair from my teeny tiny newborn baby boy.

It's not like I made a big fuss the first time we cut his fingernails, saving the little clippings in a baggy with the date on it. I promise you I did not do that. But hair, nails... they're technically the same thing, right?

So before his birthday, as visions of his mop-top covered in blue frosting danced in my head, we decided it was time to suck it up and take the plunge.

We originally planned to take him to one of those haircut places for kids, with the rocket ship chairs and TVs playing cartoons at every station. We even drove up one afternoon. I went in to ask what the wait was and it was like Dr. Seuss exploded in there. It was a 30 minute wait, with dozens of overstimulated kids running around, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Instead we took him to a local barber that Tony went to as a kid. We pulled up and I was all excited that they had one of those red, white, and blue twirling barber poles. Ooh so kitsch, I love it! Walking in, the vibe was slightly... different.. than the other place. Let's just say that instead of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck on the walls, there were other animals... heads of them.

"Hmm... this is a lovely room of death. Look Des, Bambi!"

Okay, so I would get past the carcasses. And the pro-hunting, anti-liberal bumper stickers everywhere I looked. And the oddly grandma-esque display of porcelain teacups badly in need of dusting. Where am I? Did I just enter some alternate universe? Maybe the deep south? But for some reason, it all worked. Tony grew up here, Des was totally at ease, and I felt like this was the right place for his first haircut. Whoa.. was I feeling alright? This really is another universe.

Some before shots of the do:

After a short wait in the room of death, they were ready for him. Des was in good spirits and I was hopeful that this would go well.


He was a little hestitant at first. But he stayed still and went with it.


Finding his happy place.


This is a face that says, "You guys are gonna sit there and let a stranger do this??"

Then he got a little fussy. Then a little more. Until he wanted none of it anymore.

And the barber brought out his secret weapon.


A toy jeep with a dead deer strapped to the front that played "Sweet Home Alabama." The deer lifted his little head and sang along with the chorus. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

And by golly, it worked. He was totally entranced, and more importantly, still. So the man with the sharp scissors could do his job without any bloodshed.

It was my job to keep pushing the button after the song stopped.

A few snips here and there, and he was finished. Not his finest work, the barber admitted. But it did the trick. He looked like such a handsome little man!

And as is tradition for first timers at this fine establishment, Des got his photo taken reading a Playboy.


It's a bonding moment every mom dreams of sharing with her son.

All in all, it was a surprisingly fantastic experience. Nothing like I expected it to be. But I don't know how anyone could have predicted such a scenario.

Desmond's 1st Birthday Party

Warning this entry is extremely picture heavy!
On that note, all photos are by Scott Barbick. Editing by me (so don't blame Scott for that!).

Desmond's first birthday was Saturday January 15, 2011. What a day. It was an overwhelming, joyful celebration for our little one. It took a lot of work by me, Tony, and many other hands, but I think we pulled it off. Everyone had a great time (at least I hope so!), including the birthday boy... as long as he had a veggie stick in his mouth.



Truth be told, Desmond is not into crowds. And perhaps for future birthdays we'll keep it a little more low key. But we needed this. For him, for us, and for our whole family. We never had a christening or dedication or anything like that. So this was really a celebration of our first year as a family. We made it. Phew.




I made this banner with my own two handsies. I hope he likes it, cuz it will be the center piece for many birthdays to come.

When we realized how many people would be attending, we took a hard look at our home. I half debated renting a hall. But instead, we took our open concept living space, removed a lot of the furniture, and replaced it with hall-like tables and chairs.




It worked out very well. We'll definitely be using that idea for future parties.


To the surprise of everyone (and yet no one), Auntie Jaclyn flew in all the way from California for the ocassion. And the tears flowed like wine. Auntie wouldn't miss her "lovie's" day. Des will appreciate that one day. For now, we appreciate it for him, in spades. Love you Jac!


4 generations of Salamone men.


So many presents. Billy and Katie helped out.




Katie enjoyed the gift portion of the party very much. Also, the lollipop eating portion. And the portion where she entertained everyone with her hilarious charm. So.. the whole party.


Sorry, Tony... your quick wit is no match for Katie's hilariousness.









Desmond was not a huge fan of the cake. At that point, he was pretty done with his party. But we even tried the cake the day after, in a calm environment. He still was not having it. I don't think he liked getting his hands all squishy, and the idea of putting the squishy stuff into his mouth didn't seem to cross his mind... despite EVERYTHING else in his wake getting in there one way or another.

I have such gorgeous nieces.

What a day. What a year. Happy birthday, Desi boy.