The Oliver Chronicles

True Love

2010-08-13T09:08:00.000-05:00

Warning: Cheezy Mom Love content featured.

So I'm taking Oliver to school this morning, a beautiful day and had just talked to the contractors who are putting together my kitchen today, so I was feeling very pleased and caffeinated. I look back in my Eddie Bauer see-your-kid clip-on rearview mirror. And distorted as he was, the boy was so cute just eating his raisins and pointing out the Cherry Pickers that seem to live in a school lot we pass every day.

With a deep breath and sigh, I decide to give the boy a sincere: "Oliver, I love you so much."

His response: "Look! A digger truck *on* a flatbed truck!"

Yep. True Love.

The Kindness of Toddlers

2010-08-12T09:11:00.000-05:00

This morning, Oliver's kindnesses abounded.

First, he was standing on my ankle/shin in tennis shoes:

Me: Ouch, that hurts.
Oliver: Need a bandaid? (eyebrows raised).
Me: Sure.

... and off he trots to retrieve the Curious George bandages, struggles with the wrapper and sticker backing, and promptly applies it to a random spot on the wrong leg.

Then later, as I lay on my made bed tired and unwilling to admit morning is really here:

Me: I feel like poo.
Oliver: You feel like that? You feel like poo?
Me: Yes.
Oliver: You need a diaper?

... and Daddy laughs from the nearby vanity, about which:

Oliver inquires: Why you laughing, Daddy?
Eric: Because you're funny.
Oliver: Ohhhhhh (in his new, ohhhhh-i-see-now-what-a-revelation tone he's been using lately).

The kid does make me laugh, that's for sure.

Cousins

2010-05-23T20:23:00.003-05:00

It's been ages since I've blogged, but I couldn't resist giving this photo proper play.

I can't believe how big Oliver has become. Seems like just yesterday he would lie on this same blanket making googly eyes at the fan above. Now he lays all cross-legged and smug like the big boy that he is.

Next week "Baby Sage" will turn 5 months and Oliver 2 years and 5 months and ornery as all get out. I mean, what do you do with a kid who says "I want a time out"?

High Standards

2010-02-06T15:44:00.001-06:00

"Aahnt fahn-see un. Aahnt fahn-see un."

The first time I heard this utterance just a few weeks ago, I was very confused. What was Oliver trying to tell me? "Aahnt" I knew well as his own personal conjunction for "I want," but what was this mysterious "fahn-see un"? And, of course, my confusion didn't take long to escalate his frustration. I really had no idea what he was demanding, only that he was definitely demanding it.

I don't even know how I made the connection, really. I was opening the cupboard to get out his sippy cup for some milk and he got increasingly louder with this demand. A la game of hot and cold, I was getting warmer, warmer, HOT. Something was HOT in the cupboard. I could only conclude that I was in very close proximity to the "fahn-see un." As I grabbed his sippy cup, he was fairly frantic. Then, my 'ah-ha' moment: He did not want his everyday animal sippy cup, he wanted a "Fancy One". When I grabbed one of the non-stackable, non-conforming sippy cups from our stash, his relief was palpable, as was mine. Sure, you can have your milk in this BPA-free yuppie-inspired mug of rubber-hugged stainless steel in the colors of gumby and pokey. Whatever floats your boat, kid.

Floating boats is a funny thing, though. It can sometimes take hold of your every decision. Now he will hardly ever drink out of our ol' tried and true Gerbers. And it's not even that it has to be truly "fancy" (and he does say it with that extra elitist air: "fahn-sy.") It just has to be not run-of-the-mill. The Future-Chico-State-Wildcat sports bottle works fine. The mixed-and-matched of the old Born Free toddler bottles, lids, and nipples work. Even a plastic solo cup with a straw seems to fill the bill. It's really quite funny – until, of course, all the fancy cups are dirty. Oy.

There are a few other odd demands in servingwear, like when he can't let go of the need for the Orange fork. Purple just won't do. Or when he insists on the smallest bowl in the set for a serving of Cheerios. But this fancy cup fascination is much less fleeting. The only surprise at milk time these days is that his pinky isn't in the air as he's drinking from his "fahn-see un."

Standard Cups:

Fahn-See Un:

The Assumptive Close

2010-01-19T11:42:00.000-06:00

Oliver and I have this pattern of communicating that gets me every time. It goes like this:

"Oliver do you want some fruit?"
"I want graaaapes!"
"You want grapes?" (for clarification)

"OK." (as if it was all my suggestion in the first place)

Really, tone is everything in this exchange, but seriously, he throws that "OK" in there after every clarifying question I ask these days. It's especially vexxing when he suggests something he shouldn't have or that I'd otherwise say no to, say "scissors," for example, and it's such a habit for me to restate what he's saying to make sure I have it right: "You want scissors?" -- always met with a quick and assumptive: "OK" and the unstated "Thanks for offering."

Stats

2010-01-17T08:37:00.000-06:00

As of 12/30/09, Oliver is:

27.5 pounds (50th percentile)
35.75 inches (75-90th percentile)
19 inches around his head (25-50th percentile)

That's all I have to say about that. Oh, other than 27.5 pounds is HEAVY!

Happy Birthday Morning

2010-01-08T09:25:00.002-06:00

Oliver woke up as usual asking for his Daddy ("My Daddy! My Daddy! My Daddy!"), but instead got a Happy Birthday duet from both of his loving parents, which did put a smile on his face (not easy, as he can be a bit of a crabby pants first thing in the morning). Daddy had to sneak out for an early appointment, so Mommy threw the rules out the window and:

Provided a lollipop for breakfast per the Prince's request.
Played a whole round of Fun Factory Playdough – mixing the blue and the orange dough and everything.
Dressed him as a Chicago Bear for school – complete with skin-tight airplane underoo's showing through the thin white football pants.
Allowed knee-deep romping in snow outside. (We got 12" in the last 24 hours.)

Bad Mommy. But, Happy Birthday, Monk! More fun to come…

Oh, and this conversation from the distinguished palette of a lollipop connoisseur:

"Mmmmm…"
"Oliver, is it good?"
"I like it. I like it."
"What flavor is it?..."
(nothing)
Is it Grape?..."
(nothing)
"What does it taste like?"
"Lollipop."

Duh.

As per usual routine, we then used each of Oliver's FOUR toothbrushes to scrub the purple from his teeth. He insists on using each differently colored toothbrush at every brushing session. It's really not a bad technique to cover the odds of actually getting them brushed, but it can take more time than one might want to spend assisting. Pink and yellow and blue and orange. Of late, each one also requires its own serving of toothpaste. Have you tasted that fruity crap they give to kids? Gross.

Guess Who’s Turning Two!?

2010-01-07T22:13:00.002-06:00

Oliver is turning TWO tomorrow! We've had him in training for some time now. Here's how the practice sessions go:

"Oliver, how old are you going to be?"
"Twwooooo!"
"When is your birthday?"
"Two."
"No. When is your birthday? Januaryyyy?"
"Eight."

So cute. More later.

Stretch Denim

2009-10-09T07:00:00.000-05:00

You may have noticed that I changed the look and feel of The Oliver Chronicles blog earlier in the week. I did this for three main reasons:

I've noticed that I'm rather verbose in my posts and the old layout just made me seem verboser (intentional misuse) because the real estate allocated to the post itself was so narrow. This new layout stretches out to the width of your browser, thus making the post seem shorter and easier to digest. I like this stretch feature. Plus, the template's name is Stretch Denim. Cute.
I wanted an excuse to get you email notification / RSS subscribers to hit the site itself. Figured curiosity over what the heck I'm talking about with this new/old layout business would get you there. There is lots of other content (photos and slide shows and archives) that may interest you on the full site, plus I frequently edit posts after they are published to fix errors or to add a note that didn't occur to me when I originally posted. If you subscribe, you only get the original. C'mon, click on thru: http://oliverchronicles.blogspot.com. Bookmark it. Make it your home page. Or at least, visit often. And LEAVE COMMENTS. A blogger lives for comments and so many of you are spoiled by the email notifications and feeds that you don't bother to remark or just hit reply instead of commenting for posterity. C'mon, humor me. You can even go back and comment on old posts -- just use the archive links at the right or click OLDER POSTS at the bottom of each set of entries.
As always, change is good. Just mixin' it up over here.

Would love to hear what you think of this new look. Hope you like it.

Thank Goodness for Bedtimes

2009-10-08T00:01:00.002-05:00

Dear Gods of Toddlers, please don't jinx me for saying so, but "Oliver is a good sleeper." Since he has been sleeping through the night, it is a fairly rare incident that he wakes up (short of a nightmare or a tooth coming in or being overtired for some circumstantial reason). And he goes down with such ease.

I pray this ease continues, as it makes our lives so much more predictable. Oliver's bedtime is 7:30 sharp. It goes: milk, books (as time permits), kisses, woosher, bink, woobie, bed. Like clockwork. Tonight I let him stay up until 7:45 but only because Daddy was unavailable for kisses until then and I'm hoping it pays off a bit on the other end because he's been waking up earlier than we'd like. But typically he goes from "crazy monkey jumping on couch and throwing plastic food items around the room," through the sequence above, to sleeping baby in like 3 minutes flat. It's such a blessing – again, one that I hope I'm not jinxing with this post.

It means:

He gets ample sleep according to the Pediatric Association guidelines: 13 hours total – 11-11.5 overnight and 1.5-2 at naptime (more or less).
The countdown to bedtime is pretty predictable and is used as a guide to fit in play, dinner, bath, books, and milk accordingly.
Either of us parents can go out without much guilt after the bell tolls. Oliver knows no different. (Eric is at the Hopleaf now with Boris and Ryan, in fact. And I look forward to my regular "Club of the Month Club" meetings).
Evening conference calls with the offshore teams in China and India are uninterrupted and guilt-free.
Babysitters can rely on a set schedule without much ambiguity at all and enjoy a relative freedom post-7:30.
The routine feeds routine which combats any combat about going to bed. (Yes, I know the day will come where he will fight back, but for now we're loving the routine and lack of combat.)

I wouldn't go so far as to call us bedtime Nazis or anything like that, but we are pretty regimented about the whole thing – because it serves us, and it serves him. Lots of parents value their kid's flexibility and willingness to adapt. For us, our given level of predictability is a fair trade for those qualities. I mean, he'll roll with the punches if we bend the rules a little bit, but we really try to honor them overall.

I find this pattern of predictability worth commenting on tonight, especially, as I am able to pen this post (in advance; I'm post-dating it) without interruption, as Eric is able to enjoy a night out with the boys, and as I remember the crazy days of infant irregularity. Is it really time to go for #2, where bedtime as bedtime simply doesn't exist?

Like a House on Fire?

2009-10-07T15:37:00.003-05:00

You've heard the expression "like a house on fire," right?

The Oxford English Dictionary lists "like a house on fire (afire)" among proverbial colloquial phrases containing "house." Its definition is "as fast as a house would burn; very fast or vigorously." And thus, the irony on Monday when I found Oliver donning a fireman's helmet when I arrived to pick him up from school. I mean, really, the kid is in the habit of doing NOTHING "fast or vigorously," at least when it comes to moving from one locale to the next. So to find him in that typical limbo wearing the fire hat was just too perfect.

Firstly, I was surprised that he would put anything on his head and leave it there, as it's clearly not the case when I try to put a sunhat or sock cap on him. But really the irony came into play as he danced around the place like he had nowhere in particular to be, like it was still middle-of-the-day playtime, like the toe-tapping staff were in no hurry at all. He ignored my pleas and motions to move-it-on-out and continued to climb and dance and act silly with that fire hat on. We needed to go. I said, let's go. Really, now I'm serious, we're going…

I'm not going to lie: There were tears. It wasn't pretty. But eventually we made it out of the joint and into the car.

Then we went to Harvestime, our local produce market and familiar haunt. He was pretty cooperative as we shopped there. It was a short trip with a short list. But even a short list can result in a HEAVY bag if filled with two pounds ground turkey, one pound deli meat, four cans chicken stock, and fruit and stuff. It was only the one bag – I have these great big reusables from Target that I love, love, love (and can never find anymore – these are the ones that are oversized and fold to snap) – but it was heavy enough that I couldn't carry it and carry Oliver at the same time (and HT doesn't allow carts to go to its parking lot and I felt a little lame asking the bag boy to carry just one bag for me). So we walked. And I thought the walk would be OK since Oliver had been fairly cooperative on the way in, even holding my hand and walking himself across the street. But once again, I was WRONG!

Oh, so wrong. I had forgotten, on the way out, we had to pass the gumball machines.

Why me? I try to be patient as he's doing his thing and "exploring," as they like to say, but at some point after taking photos, checking email, smiling at comers and goers until the comers became goers, I have to strong-arm him out of there. To my relief, he complied willingly with the first tug on his arm, but only then to walk as slow as a turtle down the sidewalk with a "Hi, car…. Hi, car…. Hi, car…." and a small wave to each and every parked vehicle we passed. Cute, I know. But totally unnecessary: Not one of those cars even mustered up a smile in response.

Time, at this point, is creeping away and all I want to be is HOME. But, no, it can't be that easy. Oliver doesn't operate "like a house on fire."

We cross the street again to our car. I put the overweight bag in the front seat. And Oliver begins his avoidance routine. (Or is it obliviousness? Hard to say.) Up and down the sidewalk he gallops, stopping only to rattle the wrought-iron gated doors along the block. With a scream and a howl, he's like a caged animal in reverse – clamoring to get in instead of out. To be honest, at this point, I know how he feels. I want to be in that car, all bound and buckled and safely on the way HOME. But, alas, he has to play around some more. There are leaves to shuffle through, sewer covers to jump on, pedestrian paths to meander into. And then, ultimately, there is the back to arch and the squeal to squawk as I wrangle him into the car seat once more.

He had been pretty excited about the rice I bought at Harvestime, so I thought that getting him inside for some of that mess-making tastiness would be a no brainer, that he'd rush in "like a house on fire." Nope. Not a chance. I'll spare you all the gory details, but again, I'm not going to lie: There were tears. It wasn't pretty. And I gave in entirely. Just left those groceries, perishables and all, in the foyer of our building and let him lead me "ow-seye" (outside), up the block to "nah-nees" (nani's/old nanny), down the block to "dah-gees" (doggies that hang out in their owners windows), across the street to "side" (slide), to the corner of the playground for "wa-er" (water from the fountain), and various places in between.

It was exhausting. It is exhausting. It will continue to be exhausting, I'm sure. What I'm not sure about is how long my patience (what little I exemplify, that is) will last in this regard. I mean, if he's this stubborn at 21 months, what is the ornery little booger gonna be like at 2 or 2-and-a-half? Plus, keep in mind, winter is well on its way. Imagine these delays in freezing temperatures. I'm sure it seems like that would be a no-brainer deterrent, but really you should know better. I do.

Packing It In, Packing It Up

2009-10-06T14:05:00.006-05:00

Grandma Inez came in this past weekend and we had another great visit. Well, Oliver did anyway. I found myself busy and distracted as ever with work and Eric's art show and brunches and chores and plays, but it was still great nonetheless and I am so grateful to have the help and to be able to fit in lots of fun in such a short time.

Friday night while Grandma babysat, we went to this great benefit for Cystic Fibrosis called Festiv-Ale. I'm sure you can understand the draw from the name. We had a great time. Great cause. Great beer. I thought I had won the silent auction for an All-You-Can-Drink Happy Hour at Duffy's, but I haven't heard the final word yet. Eric and I met way back in September of 2001 at an All-You-Can-Drink Happy Hour at Duffy's, so I thought it would be appropriate to bid on it. Sorry, folks, but it's about as close to romance as we get around here.

Saturday was the Ravenswood Art Walk, in which Eric was showing. So after a morning of getting up at 5:30 a.m. with Oliver and out the door by 6:00 for a busy morning out in Des Plaines putting together the SSS Catalog, he rushed down to the studio to sit around for two straight days while people ogled his art. These things are kind of a mixed bag. The exposure is great. The feedback is interesting. The sitting around sucks. Anyway…

I worked here at home on Saturday morning testing a new website that allows policy-holders to submit property loss claims online. I know, I know… could it get any more exciting than that!? It was great to get some work in, though, while Grandma was able to bond with the Monk. Finally we mustered and went over to see Eric at the show. Then it rained. Then we went to Target. Then we got Starbucks. Then we went to Borders. All of which was in an effort to get Oliver to snooze in the car. After the early wake-up, he really needed a second nap that day. Of course, none of our plans worked and he fell asleep instead in concert with the left-hand turn-signal to turn onto our block at the end of our adventure. Never fails. But at least it gave me a chance to catch some quiet time and to catch up with Mom as we sat in the car while he snoozed. Why not? Sometimes the forced inertia is a good thing.

Sunday was Uncle Brian's birthday brunch at Café 28. Good food. Good visits. Good times. The rest of the gang went on the Art Walk, but Eric went to the studio and Mom, Monk and I came home. While he napped, Mom helped me organize 21 months of clothes – also known as "ridiculous amounts of clothes." It's hard to believe he was ever so small, really. But now everything is all packed away by size in ginormous zip lock bags – have you seen these things? Not sure what they are waiting for, though, as I haven't quite mustered the gumption to go for #2 yet. Maybe Leslye (Eric's sister) will have a boy. She's due in January around the same time Oliver was born, so season-wise it would be perfect. My gut says she's having a girl, though. Alas, I suppose her gut is the only one that really counts in this case.

In the afternoon on Sunday, Eric's parents stopped by, exhausted from all the art-seeing. (Made me kind of glad I skipped it.) So we visited for awhile and I did some chopping. (I just can't seem to keep myself away from the cutting board, really.) Poppa took Oliver out for a quick trip to the park and learned the valuable lesson of how "ows-eye" (outside) can turn into "all day" when Oliver is involved. The kid just doesn't want to come in. Drives me absolutely crazy.

Anyway, the rest of Sunday was a bit of a scramble, but an enjoyable scramble. I went to pick up Eric at the studio and Ryan and Catherine and Caroline and Henry were just arriving, but since I was whisking Eric away it seemed only fair that I whisk them with me, too. We rushed home where the moms had set the table and the Poppa had changed the tank on the grill and where the opener was waiting for the nice bottle of wine Ryan and Catherine had brought. And we had a lovely meal, appetized with aged cheddar and served with Chilean grass-fed beef (Thanks, Jaime!) as a main course and a key lime frozen pie I had whipped up for dessert. Wah-la. I love it when things come together. Of course, in this case, together with lots of help from grandparents.

The grandparents also helped with all of the aftermath. More than helped, actually, they did all of the dishes on their own because Eric and I had to rush off to go see a play at the Goodman. (Stoop Stories, which we gave a C-. Thank goodness it was short at least. Oh, and that we had time to find street parking – would have really stung had we paid to park, as well.) Then it was home to bed. Gladly. Except, of course, that Monday marked the start of the grind and the departure of the grandma once again.

Monk came home from school on Monday and went immediately to grandma's preferred spot on the couch and said, "Grandma," which ironically we couldn't get the kid to say all weekend. He was definitely sad to see her go – we all were. See you for Thanksgiving, Grandma! Have fun in California and tell my aunts and cousins I say HI!

TAKE 2: Testing Office-to-Blogger Integration

2009-10-02T13:52:00.002-05:00

I just noticed that Word has a publish to blog feature that allows the user to compose a post in Word and then with a single button publish the text and upload images (to own server). We'll see if that really works. If it does, then you'll see this short description and a picture of a beer below, because that is on my mind right now. T.G.I.F:

The Winning Dishes

2009-09-22T20:25:00.003-05:00

For those of you who know me, you know that I really enjoy cooking. It's a somewhat new (say, within the last 5 years) interest, but I spend a lot of time researching, planning, and cooking. It's just fun for me. It can definitely turn into a lot of work, but overall I find the experience very rewarding, even cathartic, particularly the chopping. In any case, we have a pretty diverse palette around here. Lots of International foods and an affinity for spice, so it's not always easy to find a dish that suits the whole family, which now includes Monk -- that very good eater we know and love, but yet still a toddler. Of late, I've found a couple winning dishes, though, and am so proud. I seriously doubt that they will stick because it seems the kid is as fickle as he is ornery, but it's still quite a feat.

Last week I tried a recipe for Chicken Florentine out of The Big Book of Chicken -- just spinach and rice and parmesan and chicken in a casserole. I was shocked that he ate it. I'd have normally amped up the garlic and onions the next time, but since he and we liked it, I should probably add it -- as is -- to a normal rotation.

I like to make a casserole dish on Sunday or Monday of a week in case I'm feeling lazy on a subsequent night of the week and we can just have leftovers. Thus, I made a lasagna this week. And the kid ate it tonight for dinner. I was pretty impressed. I think he really ate mostly the cheese and noodles, but may have also managed down a few pieces of Italian sausage as well. Good times.

As I type this, I have some Palak Tofu brewing in the crockpot. I can't imagine Oliver will go for Indian food, but it's worth a shot. If nothing else, he'll grub on the rice, I guess.

Nothing too exciting in all this recipe trial and error, I suppose, but it is an interest (if not an obsession), so I thought my cooking should make an appearance in The Oliver Chronicles.

I love love love a cooking blog and find many of my recipes on blogs. The Palak Tofu recipe is from a blog called A Year of Slowcooking, where the author made a meal in her crockpot every day for 365 days. Wow. Impressive. I'm a fan of the crock, but haven't nearly mastered it. And my adventures in cooking are hardly worthy of a blog of their own, but you may see them make an appearance here now and again. Let me know what you think or if you have any must-try recipes or favorite cooking blogs. I'm always up for something new. In the meantime, I'm sure glad to move away from the soy nuggets and american cheese and frozen peas that has been the menu of choice up til now.

Picker

2009-09-08T12:03:00.002-05:00

Like mother like son. Oliver loves to pick at stuff. Woobie nubs, noses, and on Monday at the park: tree bark. For like 30 minutes. Slides and swings be damned. Made for some relaxing time on the neat sheet for mommy, though.

Adventures in Babysitting

2009-09-05T08:15:00.001-05:00

Granted, the title of this post may be a little misleading to some, especially those who are familiar with the popular 80s film. But in our case, it's kind of turned on its head. I mean, it's us who gets an advenure when there is babysitting going on. And how lucky we are in that regard.

We are just kind of getting the hang of this babysitter thing to be honest. I mean, we like spending time with the boy and are otherwise pretty beat so, on most occasions, welcome the couch and the clicker. But sometimes, every so often, we get the gumption and actually put a plan together to get out and about for an evening in this wonderful city of ours. Wednesday was one such night! And many, many thanks go to Bubbie and Poppa (Eric's parents) for babysitting -- especially on such a late night out and especially without a TV (ours is in the shop).

About 6 times a year for the last 3 years (at least), Eric has been threatening to charter a moonlight sail. Seriously, I can't tell you how many times I've heard: "We should really get a boat and a group and go out. I'm gonna look into it." On a recent trip down Lake Shore Drive -- the route which so frequently inspires the comment -- I responded with an: "I'll believe it when I see it."

And it worked. Next thing you know, Eric is IMing me with dates and times and boats. And he called. And he confirmed. And we went. Wow.

Ryan (not pictured at left) and Catherine (at left) joined us for dinner at a place amidst the hub and bub on Broadway called Wilde. We sat outside and enjoyed some Irish pub grub -- and after stumbling upon their half-price beer special, stumbled out to Belmont Harbor and met our captain Ben (at left), who was good-natured and witty and charming and, of course, skilled -- everything you'd want in a captain.

It was the perfect night for sailing. Clear night, full moon, fireworks off of Navy Pier, and the first day of rides for that new weird air balloon thing. It really was gorgeous. And despite the modest wind availability, we were still able to put 'er up for part of the trip. Catherine and I even took the wheel for a bit. (Please excuse my lack of sailing terminology.) To be truthful, my time at the wheel was more of a photo op, but Catherine really did take responsibility for heading us south toward the pier.

We had such a nice time. It was enjoyable, right down to our Jamaican cab driver on the way home. I highly recommend the outing. I highly recommend it with the following cautions:

Do NOT end the night on a cheap bottle of red wine purchased at Walmart in Beloit, Wisconsin.
Tether your camera to your body so as not to throw it away in a park district trash can when disposing of the empty beer bottles.
Don't even bother trying to take flash-less night photography on a moving vessel.
Be prepared for one or more days of post-sail "sea legs."
Try not to be such a "motor-mouth" that you miss the beauty and serenity of it all. (Eric's all-too-valid feedback on my overzealous conversational style that night. What can I say? It was good to catch up with R&C.)
Watch out for foot-high plastic fences when you're walking into the woods to take a pee after dark. (This last piece of advice is courtesy of Eric who fell face first in the dirt due to said obstacle. Ouch!)
Wear something nautical. Wish I had. Wouldn't that main photo of me have been that much more stunning in stripes?

See a video of our view of the fireworks below (complete with a silhouette of Eric and ooo's and ahhhh's from me). Good times!

Fooled

2009-09-04T08:30:00.003-05:00

As a parent, one should be cautious about making rash, broad-sweeping statements having anything to do with their own or other's children. This much I know. For example, anything starting with "XXXX never..." or "XXXX always..." are especially dangerous. But I thought I was on the safe side with my proud announcements early on that Oliver was "take it or leave it" with his binky (pacifier) and woobie (security blanket).

Once again, he has promptly proved me wrong.

Literally overnight he has grown very attached to both items. Used to be he'd only use them at night and if I asked him for the binky he would gladly just hand it to me, but now he's having this odd behavior where he'll be playing and then all of the sudden start screaming for his "bee" and "oo'bee." And thank goodness the two usually travel in a pair because I wouldn't be able to distinguish the two requests given Oliver's toddler accent. This on-a-dime change in behavior is so amazing to me. In any case, I thought these photos say it best:

"What? So? I'm only marginally interested in my binky and woobie.
I could take 'em or leave 'em anytime. Really, I could."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Ha-ha-ha, sucker! You actually thought I didn't like my bink?
You seriously fell for that feigned ambivalence? Ha-ha! Fooled you!"

Taste of Fun

2009-09-01T22:10:00.018-05:00

Last weekend we made the trek to the big city of Fort Wayne to see Grandma. We like to hit the town when there is some sort of goings on. In this case, it was Taste of The Arts, "downtown Fort Wayne's premiere arts and food festival."

I started out the weekend by scrambling out of the house and out to a cafe near Oliver's school to do one last conference call and cram a soup and sandwich down and before grabbing him and hitting the road. This adventure started at 12:30 for a 1:00 call. Off to get Oliver at 2:00, then out to Eric's office to get him (in HORRIBLE traffic -- a 30 min trip took an hour). So at this point, I'm feeling like a CTA bus driver with all these stops and pick-ups and a little like the victim of poor route planning (again, not unlike the CTA -- sorry Emily) to go west to get Eric then to head east to Indiana.

[Blogger's confession: I had planned a told-ya-so commentary about the irrationality, inconvenience, and unnecessary length of our route. However, while generating the Google map to illustrate my point, I discovered that it's really just about a 10-mile difference to run out and get Eric before going east. It's just a long drive, no matter how you chalk it up. Still think I'm sticking to my guns and making Eric drive downtown next time instead of the perpetuating the standard of curbside service.]

In any case, suffice it to say that it was a LONG trip. We managed to arrive just before Oliver's bedtime, but of course, he fell asleep in the car just as we were pulling into town, didn't survive the attempt at smooth transition, got overly excited to be at grandma's house, and ended up staying up way later than he should have.

We had a great time at the Taste of the Arts on Saturday -- and on our way, a quick stop at the Barr Street Market, because who can resist a Farmers Market, right? At the taste, Oliver spent most of his time trying to climb up on this huge orange sculpture. We watched some belly dancers and some inner-city youth strut their stuff on the performance stage. We ate sausages and drank beer and sampled cheesecake and spicy pasta. Good times. Then we came back to the house for nap time -- for all of us. Lots of zzzzzz's in that house.

Upon waking, it was, of course, time for more food, so we whipped up some turkey burgers and fired up the grill. Before we could get very far into the meal prep, though, Oliver set his sights on some corn we had bought at the Farmers Market. So Grandma shucked it for him as she endured the sound of his gruntlike chant: "Co, co, co," which escalated in intensity to the point where I suggested snarkily, "Just snap it in half and give it to him raw," thinking that either he wouldn't be able to eat it or it wouldn't taste good and he would lose interest, at least until we could get some water boiled to properly cook it. But I was wrong. Very wrong. That kid ate every last kernel off the cob and then sucked any remaining juice until there was simply nothing left. We all thought it was very cute and funny and took a series of photos to commemorate:

What wasn't so cute was the diaper aftermath the next morning. Traumatizing. Seriously traumatizing. But anyway... I digress. After dinner Oliver was quite cooperative and went to bed (we must have really worn him out) and Eric and I took the opportunity to go see a movie: Away We Go at the "dollar" theater. I really liked it. Eric thought it was just OK. Really can't beat an Under $10 date, though: 2 McDonald's sundaes ($2.16), 2 Movie Tickets ($6), Change ($1.84).

Sunday we hit breakfast at Sara's, a home-cooking family restaurant and another of our Fort Wayne favorites (although I think we decided that our standby Ashley's Skillet over there has fallen from grace a bit). After breakfast, we needed our nature fix, so went to Fox Island (a 605 acre park, which contains the largest contiguous forest in the county. Six miles of marked trails through the preserve enable visitors to enjoy the beauty of the park.) While we didn't hit the full six miles of marked trails, we did have a nice walk around the small lake that is part of the park. So nice. A little mosquito-y, but so nice. And we got our fix of critters, too: frogs and butterflies and ground squirrels. Then it was home for naps again. As Grandma and Oliver snoozed, Eric and I hit the road for some toddler-free errand running. A little less than inspired, we went to Target and loaded up on fall clothes for Oliver. Then, sadly, it was time to pack up and head back home.

The Long Weekend

2009-08-28T11:40:00.000-05:00

We all look forward to long weekends -- Memorial Day, Labor Day, Fourth of July, or for the lucky government employees: MLK Day, Washington's Birthday and Columbus Day (puh-lease), but sometimes a weekend is as long as the activities you pack into it. Last weekend was one such weekend. (Here it is Friday again already (time flies), so I don't want to lose sight of what was a great stay-at-home-ish weekend we had -- especially in comparison to July where we were out of town for every. single. weekend.)

Eric was home a little earlier than usual on Friday, so we had intended to go for a walk around Andersonville, one of our favorite Chicago neighborhoods, but then it started raining. Lamely, our intended adventure turned into an outing to Target -- but hey, at least we got out of the house. Besides, options are pretty limited when the boy goes to bed at 7:30 and dinner was out because Eric had spoiled his by eating with deep dish pizza for lunch (3 PIECES!) with Ethan after their field trip to the MCA (must be nice). So Target was fun and we bought Oliver an awesome set of plastic food (a space-minded substitute to the play kitchen that I know he would totally love), as well as one of those annoying echo microphones. Anyway, he loved the food set, especially putting the french fries and hot dogs into his mouth sideways. Can you say "choking hazard"? Those pieces have since been removed from the set. So anyway, after playing with china-made plastic for a half hour or so, he went to bed happy and Eric and I watched Secrets and Lies on DVD. Great flick.

Saturday morning, we got up bright and early with the Monk, did a quick round of triage around the house, then headed out to the Green City Market, where we dropped a LOAD of cash on locally grown produce and fresh flowers and hand-crafted cheese and organic pastries (whatever that means). We so love a market and Oliver did too, as he helped himself to samples of berries along the way. It's hard for the vendors to detect a 33" thief, I think. They had a bluegrass band there that he was really digging, too. Good times.

In fact, the times were so good that when we got back to the car, he
completely sacked out. Rather than heading home for the precarious transfer of nap locale, we decided to ride it out and headed up north to Abt, where we needed to shop for a new TV since ours is a POS. We arrived at Abt to find Oliver still snoozing, so we continued to drive and drive and drive. Finally, we got hungry for lunch and Eric ran into Pita Inn to get takeout for us, when, of course Oliver woke up at last. So we chowed on some fresh, delicious middle eastern food before hitting the electronics superstore.

Abt is like a Disneyland of electronics and other attractions, including a HUGE aquarium complete with two green moray eels (wow), a big fountain, a bubble maker, an interactive butterfly exhibit, and home-baked cookies among other things. Oliver went NUTS. He was like a maniac, arms outspread running from one thing to the next with total disregard to all of the shoppers (and there were sooo many, very busy). He ran not just to the fountains and ball mazes, but also to microwaves and vacuum cleaners. He was in heaven. (Seriously, you have to check this place out -- here's a virtual tour.) Shopping for us, on the other hand, was a bit of a challenge. It was like asking the kid at Disneyland, right in the middle of it all, to stop and read the details on a commemorative plaque. No chance.

After we dragged Oliver out of the Abt kicking and screaming, by Eric's suggestion we decided to decompress in some nature and went for a quick stroll through the Linne Woods forest preserve. To our relief, Oliver found this adventure to be as exhilarating as Abt. We kept him in the Bob for the first 7/8ths of the trip as we traversed a bunch of mud puddles from Friday's rain and then let the wildthing roam for the last 1/8th or so, which in terms of time took about 12 times as long as it would have if he had stayed in the stroller. There were sticks to be picked up and poked with. There were bridges to cross -- and recross, and recross. It was a fun adventure, though.

So now Eric and I were starting to fade since we didn't get the 2.5-hour nap that Oliver did, so we set our sights on the couch, but first in preparation for that, we hit our local library to rent a movie and let Oliver roam the stacks. We had such success with Secrets and Lies, we thought it would be a good idea to enjoy another award winner. We rented Children of a Lesser God, but then didn't end up watching it. By the time we got things organized around the house and got The Monk to bed, we were too pooped even for a movie.

And then there was Sunday -- but I'm fearing that this post is getting out of control and I think I've made my point about a weekend being as long as you make it -- so in bullets, Sunday had:

Painting at studio for Eric.
Foster Beach for Oliver & Mommy
Brunch with Joy, while Oliver napped.
Back out to Montrose Beach.
BBQ at Leslye and Brian's.

In essence, another FULL DAY -- trying to make the most of these fading days of summer:

The Tomato Tango

2009-08-27T09:00:00.002-05:00

We are trying to grow tomatoes in a container on our deck this year. My Uncle Gary helped us to plant them and our only responsibility has been to water and love thereafter. And in that regard, we've been doing pretty good, really. We had one branch, heavy with unripened tomatoes fall off when we were moving the container to a new spot on the deck, but otherwise, Eric and I are doing our part.

Oliver on the other hand is doing his part to sabotage the whole plan. The kid loves tomatoes. Not sure if this love is normal or not, but he especially loves tomatoes that he can pick right off the vine and plop into his mouth. Occasionally, he'll treat himself to 5 or 6 at a time, but right now there aren't any in the orange stage yet. (Despite the variety claiming "Husky Cherry Red," they are orange when ripe.)

He's tried a green one -- even chewed and swallowed -- but we're trying to teach him to wait, that he can only eat the orange ones. He gets it. I'm certain that he gets it. He gets it, but he does not like it. At. All.

Oh, the drama! As is the predominant toddler-parenting protocol, I have found myself brainstorming preventative measures. How do we avoid this type of breakdown moving forward and still teach him all the lovely lessons of self-sufficiency, organic gardening, and the nutritional benefits of lycopene? (Only partial sarcasm intended here.) So far, to that end, I've:

looked into plant foods to make the tomatoes ripen faster
blocked the path to the plant with rideable toys
smuggled store-bought cherry tomatoes to the porch for the ol' switch-a-roo
allowed him to pilfer unripened tomatoes from the plant (path of least resistance)
distracted him with watering cans (risky proposition)
and more

Really, brainstorming avoidance and prevention techniques pretty much occupies the majority of my brainpower these days. The tomato tango is just one of many situations that could produce a tantrum, really. I'm fairly certain we're going to hit the terrible twos full force within the next month or so. He's already showing significant signs of it. What can I say, he's advanced for his age. Ugh.

Oy, Oy, Oysters and Tamales Bay

2009-08-26T10:00:00.000-05:00

I'm throwing the chronology of our trip to California completely out the window -- much like Eric throws the logic of a direct route from Point A to Point B out the window. This trait is sometimes enviable -- that he's willing to go off the beaten path, that he takes interest in seeing things others might miss, that he's more drawn to water than land -- but in this case even he will admit we took an unnecessary detour (to a place we'd been 3 times before, no less).

Tamales Bay is a coastal estuary located on the central California coast north of San Francisco. They are famous for the oysters that they harvest there and on our first trip to California, we made a wonderfully memorable spur-of-the-moment stop at a place called Tony's, where Eric had a dozen on the half shell, I had a grilled cheese, and we both had an ice cold Sierra Nevada while the sun was going down (or at least that's how we remember it). Tamales Bay, thusly was doomed to become that classic the-first-time-is-always-the-best time.

During last year's trip, we routed ourselves that same way only to find that Tony's was closed. Then this year, Eric chose once again the twisty turny Highway 1 to Tamales Bay on our way to Santa Rosa. (We had made a stop in Sausilito first.) He just won't give up on trying to recapture "the first time."

As we're driving, he mentions that he thinks Tony's is closed on Tuesdays -- or is it Thursdays? (I'm sure you can see where this is going.) So with me behind the wheel twisting and turning in our rented Jeep Laredo (thumbs-down), we make our way north. The scenery is no doubt beautiful and the eucalyptis scent produced a much-needed calming effect, but eventually, as we wrap up "the-detour-that-cost-us-two-extra-hours-on-the-road," we approach Tony's to find it closed once again. They are only open on WEEKENDS! So we moseyed up to the next roadside stand (whose name escapes me) to shovel down a dozen oysters and a beer on the "barrel tables" they require you to sit at if you want an adult beverage.

As you can see from the main photo in this post, Oliver is not interested in Oysters (at least not beyond knocking the shells about). I was less interested than usual myself and ate only 3 of the 12. Eric polished the rest under the pressure of the displeased and delayed crowd, and then we hit the road to Santa Rosa just in time for Friday commuter traffic. Next time, if Tamales Bay is in the cards, we are going to Santa Rosa, driving west, eating, and driving east back to civilization and 101.

The Pacific Coast Highway is one of the most beautiful drives in the world, I think, but it is by no means the most direct route and should be used sparingly in that regard.

Blueberries. Lots and lots of blueberries.

2009-08-24T16:13:00.002-05:00

The title of this post was my response to an email I just got from Oliver's daycare:

From: Tanya T. Fugitt
Sent: Monday, August 24, 2009 2:48 PM
To: Denise Burch
Subject: Black POOP

Denise we were concerned because Oliver’s Bowel movements (2) were almost black. Can you shed some light on the situation? Maybe it was something he ate?

Tanya

High Hand

2009-08-24T08:00:00.001-05:00

Looking at all these photos of our trip, I just can't get over how much ground we covered and what a great time we had just being in each and every moment (a rarity for me as an overbooked, chronic planner). But in that regard, it was very yogic to be so very present. And in that spirit, how appropriate that this post is about our visit with my dear friend Colleen and her beautiful family, since (a) Colleen is a fantastic and committed yoga instructor and (b) it was her yoga that brought her within reach for a visit in Loomis near where we had been staying.

On a warm Sunday morning, after their 2-hour-straight drive from the Bay Area, Colleen, hubby Steve, Jake and Samantha met us at this beautiful nursery and cafe called High Hand. I'd never seen a place like this -- part botanic garden (except everything is for sale), part organic cafe, part fair trade market, and part art gallery (although I didn't get to see this part). We had a lovely breakfast, complete with $8 mimosas, and then let the kids run around the nursery, where all of them took to the fish pond that had these huge koi to be fed. (The nice gardener gave us some food and everything.) Oliver was especially drawn to all of the fountains and water features. The kid loves wa-er, wa-er, buh-buh-buh (where the latter is his sign -- fingers strumming lips -- for water).

Oliver got to know Colleen a little better (since the last time he saw her the only interaction he was really capable of was accepting a bottle and subsequently spitting up on her). She's very patient, that Colleen, especially as Oliver wanted to explore and touch everything in sight. And he warmed right up to Sammy who offered him delicious strawberry ice. YUM (and so cute)! Jake brought him an awesome dinosaur, which he was pretty afraid of right away, but after another week with it as our roadtrip companion, he grew fond and even somewhat attached.

Steve and the kids were able to hang out with us back in Lincoln while Colleen did her yoga thang in Roseville, which was so nice, too, but more on that later. In a nutshell -- great location, great visit, and grate-ful that the Millens were able to make it!

Oh, and I suppose that picture of Eric warrants commentary, but I think I'll let it speak for itself. Ew (not so coincidentally the man's initials).

Aunt Melissa's Chickens

2009-08-21T10:45:00.008-05:00

We spent several nights throughout our California vacation at my sister Melissa's house in Orangevale (near Sacramento). If you asked Eric and I about the highlights there, we'd probably say: swimming in their great pool, delicious bbq dinners courtesy of brother-in-law Andy who is a great grill master, Noah's bagels courtesy of my early-riser sister, or visiting with our teen nephews, among other things. But, if you put that same question to Oliver, he would undoubtedly answer: CHICKENS! Aaaaahhhh! Bak, bak!

My sister has 6 chickens that run around on her property, obviously a novelty for a city-dwelling toddler. After spending every morning and evening outside chasing these chickens, he's now officially crazy for chickens. He even does the "Chickens! Aaaaah! Bak, bak!" exclamation when we pass the Pollo Vivo shop on Lawrence Avenue on the way home from daycare. (Yes, there is a place that sells live chickens in our neighborhood -- 1.59 lb mediano / 1.69 lb grande.)

It was such a treat to see him get so excited over these things that I seriously considered our options for rearing a chicken on our back deck. As a second option, I also considered the awesome plush chicken puppet they had for sale at our local toy shop, but I'm way too cheap at $29.95. As a third option, I asked the balloon artist (Balloon-a-tic) at our block party last weekend if she could make a balloon chicken. Her response: "Nobody has ever asked."

So we'll just have to limit our Gallus domesticus interactions to trips to the farm at Lincoln Park Zoo, I guess. Oliver's school has a field trip planned there for this Friday, so I'll have to be sure to warn them of his obsession. I'm half expecting a call to come and pry him away from the chicken-viewing fence like we had to later in our vacation when he saw more chickens at the Sonoma County Fair. Those baby piglets and goats didn't stand a chance of winning his affections:

Ahhhh, California!

2009-08-20T08:32:00.004-05:00

We got back from our 11 day vacation to California just a few short weeks ago (Aug. 3), but it seems like a lifetime ago, really. It's crazy how time flies. But the memories are still sharp. We had the best time! It was the ideal vacation with a perfect balance between rest and activity (that's always our goal, especially with a little one in tow) and we were so lucky to see so many friends and family. Perfect. We made the rounds all over Northern Calilfornia, even making a stop in Napa for mommy's 20-year high-school reunion.

It was such a great vacation, each leg unique on its own, so I think I'll share the details of each experience in separate posts. In the meantime, I thought I'd share my awe at how much Oliver has changed in just a year's time. Every time I download a new batch of photos from the camera, I end up taking a trip down memory lane looking at older albums on my laptop. I always say that this is one of the main benefits of digital photos. Otherwise, I don't know if I'd ever look at older photos. So anyway, I found this photo in the CALI08 folder -- from our trip to California last year. Wow has that baby grown up!

Time Flies

2009-08-19T17:02:00.003-05:00

Time flies when you're having fun, right?! That's my excuse for the blog neglect and I'm sticking to it. Sadly, I haven't taken the time to post since May, but during that time we've had some great fun, so I'll do my best to post a few back-logged memories of our family and the boy. Please forgive this photo-less post in the meantime. They say, if you write down a goal and share it with others, it increases your chance of success. So let it be said that it is my goal to post to the blog more frequently than in the recent months past.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it's all more forgivable if I post with an Oliver photo. Not of great significance in terms of an event or a memory, but here's the most recent photo I have of him on my iPhone. He's borrowing our downstairs neighbor Maggie's pink car. Ubercool, Monk!

Bats Have Many Uses

2009-05-01T10:24:00.002-05:00

Remember this thing? Oliver's plastic bat?

Well, the ball still hasn't been untethered from it's packaging.

And he still likes to push the ball-end around the house like a vacuum cleaner.

And he still hasn't figured out how to actually swing it as it should be swung (and for this I am grateful), but yesterday he did find a new use for it.

Aparently it functions well as a herding stick. That is, if you are a Cat Shepherd. Oliver was using the bat (his is red) to wrangle Junior (our cat) out of the living room and down the hall with the utmost care. And Junior was complying willingly. Do you think it would be cruel if I dressed him as Bo Peep and let him carry his "herding stick"? So cute!

More Fun from Daddy

2009-04-30T09:57:00.006-05:00

So, I'm having a leisurely morning this morning, with a welcome reprieve in workload until a new SOW gets signed (that's statement-of-work for you non-consulting types, not anything having to do with that nasty flu). It's raining and gloomy outside, so I decide to cheer myself up with a proper breakfast.

I chopped up the leftover grilled vegetables from dinner last night -- red, yellow and green peppers, eggplant, zuchinni, and onions (we had chicken fajitas) -- and put them in a pan with some eggs. Let it cook until almost done, then sprinked some cheese on and threw it in a 350-degree oven to cook for the last 5 minutes and get a little fluffy. YUM! I even emailed a picture of it (at left) to Eric just to make him jealous. Beats toast and jam, I think.

"So how is any of that More Fun from Daddy?" you ask in reference to this post's title. Well, he left behind some evidence of fun-having in the kitchen, you see. When I got the pot-holder out of the drawer to use in retrieving the frittata (that's what fancy people call my concoction) out of the oven, I was greeted with this:

Eric had put masking-tape eyes on the pot-holder to use as a hand-puppet in entertaining Oliver. So great. Of course, while "so great" was my first thought, my second thought was -- crap, how is this going to manifest when Oliver is 3 and requires much more than a hand-puppet for entertainment. I'm imagining the entire living room transformed into a cushion-fort for a start or a public-art-sized adventure with Crayola. Eric's creativity really knows no bounds, so I may be doomed. I mean, if a simple Huggies box can be so easily transformed into a herky-jerky hardwood floor rollercoaster ride like it was earlier this week, then I'm definitely in trouble.

Ham

2009-04-28T10:00:00.002-05:00

Ah, ham. Such an appropriate title for a blog about the little Jewish boy from Chicago.

No, really, it is.

I mean, Oliver is a ham. He really laps it up when his goofiness gets grins and giggles from the crowd. And just watch when the camera gets pointed in his direction.

In addition, he really seems to like ham (and so does Mommy because it's sooo easy, and with a slice of paper cheese and a grape makes a meal, right?)

But actually, the inspiration for this post was neither of those things. It was Oliver's feet.

They are hams. Seriously thick and seriously rotund hams.

A few weeks ago, we travelled to Fort Wayne to see my mom for the weekend and I thought it would be a good idea to go to the fancy kid's shoe store for a proper measuring since I'd been squeezing him into Robeez and hand-me-down tennies and had no idea what his real shoe size was. Well, it turns out that "squeezing" is not nearly a strong enough word for what I was doing to that poor kid's feet.

He definitely has some hams. Size 6 hams. Size 6 WIDE hams, to be exact. The guy had to recommend Stride Rite's special wide and deep model so his feet wouldn't get too crushed. (I, however, was slightly crushed, because the wides weren't as fashionable or versatile as the non-wides. Function over fashion this time, I guess.)

So Grandma bought him his first pair of real kicks that weekend and he's been wearing them ever since. They go with more outfits than I originally thought and we got them just in the nick of time, as the snow finally melted enough to actually set foot on ground outside.

Here's the Before and After. Foot and shoe. Ham and Rye:

Small Appliance Repair

2009-04-27T10:00:00.001-05:00

For months now, one of Oliver's favorite activites has been (and still is) servicing the humidifier we keep in his room. (We are supposed to use it to help relieve his congestion, but seldom remember to. Ooops.) He has always liked to take off and put back on the screen over the steamhole. And has recently advanced his maintenance also to include using a Big Gulp straw to check the levels in the hole that is exposed when the screen is removed. This can go on for quite some time. It's very important work, so of course he is very focused. Unfortunately, the repairs are usually initiated when we're trying to get him dressed and ready for daycare. So, I have to apologize for the impromptu nature of the photo. I had been meaning to get a picture of him in his "workshop" for some time and finally grabbed the camera to capture the moment, however inappropriate.

Next stop: Toaster Ovens (and pants).

Seize the Day

2009-04-25T12:59:00.003-05:00

Last weekend, Eric and I took a trip without Oliver. Grandma came into town to watch the boy while Eric and I took some time to ourselves for a trip up to Milwaukee. And boy did we make the most of it. It was a great trip and we packed in tons of fun.

We hit the road around 9:15 and arrived by 10:45. Amazingly there was no traffic. And I had no idea Milwaukee was so close. Such an easy drive. Plus, the weather was gorgeous, so it made for really pleasant travel.

Right away, we headed for the Jan Livens exhibit at the Milwaukee Museum of Art. Wow that's one impressive building. Seriously world class. The special exhibit was very impressive, too. We were frequently reminded of our time spent in Amsterdam. Back pre-baby, when we could swing International travel without thinking twice. After touring the exhibit, we sat down with a cup of coffee from the cafe and watched these really good classical guitar players. It was a perfect break and the view was great -- overlooking the lake and lakefront path out of these huge windows. I'm telling you, this museum is really worth seeing. We'll definitely be back.

After the museum, we consulted the trusted iPhone for not-to-be-trusted directions to the Milwaukee Public Market, We love a market and this one had all the pickin's: cheese, beer, wine, spices, middle eastern food, bakeries, grills, butchers, sweet shops, delis. We consumed a gourmet sandwich, traditional hummus, and of course some Wisconsin-brewed beers, and took our cheese and cookies to go. Yum! (Peanut Butter Buddy = homemade peanut butter cookie, topped with smooshed peanut butter cup and dipped in dark chocolate. OMG!)

After the Market, we rushed over to Lakefront Brewery to grab the last tour of the day, but unfortunately it was sold out. This left us drinking $4, not-as-delicious-as-I-remember-it, Cream City pale ale out of undersized plastic cups in an oversized room with cafeteria-like tables. A little disappointing, but we could almost imagine what fun the beer garden along the river might be like in the summertime.

Then we made the tough call of whether to commit to staying overnight or to drive home. Honestly, it had been a full day already, but we decided to stick it out -- I mean how often do we get "us" time anyway -- and I'm so glad we did.

We checked into the lovely (sarcastic) and reasonably priced (not sarcastic) Hampton Inn & Suites downtown just long enough to sit down for a few minutes and consult the trusted iPhone again. Flixter, the iPhone movie app, found us a theatre close by with a movie starting in 30 minutes. Gotta love technology, right?

So we headed over to the East End (I think that's what the bartender called it -- or maybe East Side -- whatever) to see Gomorrah, an Italian mafia movie. It was pretty good. Not great, as the reviews would have you believe.

Then we bellied up to the bar in the dark corner pub called Von Trier, where the bartender served us pretzels, a Bell's Winter White and directed us to one of two spots for dinner, which was a good thing because half a sandwich and a couple dips of hummus really weren't holding me.

We opted for pub food for dinner. When in Wisconsin... ya know? Hooligan's Super Bar had a great selection of beer. We opted for the Alpha King (odd choice since we were in Wisconsin and it's brewed in Indiana, but we had the gal pull us a sample of the Cream City from her tap and found it to not be any better). In addition to beer and food, they had satellite trivia, which we played a few round of, Eric renaming himself to "Wayne" for the occasion. Whatever.

While still embarrassingly early for a Saturday night, after Hooligan's we were pretty spent so called it a night. The next morning we grabbed the tail-end of the complimentary breakfast and headed home. We were home by noon unpacking our cheese haul and playing with The Monk.

It was a very fun trip and I'm so glad we were able to go. Many thanks to Grandma for watching Oliver -- who she said was a perfect angel while we were gone. Doubtful, but I'm glad she sees it that way.

Daddies Are Awesome

2009-04-24T12:28:00.001-05:00

Eric is a great dad! He really does more than his share with Oliver -- including dirty diapers, daycare drop-off, baths, and the famous changing-table tango -- and all with much less frustration than Mommy. I'm not sure the long-term effects, but when Oliver does something particularly ornery, Eric just laughs it off, where I tend to get a bit tense about it.

And Oliver LOVES his daddy. With each of us side-by-side at the crib's edge, Oliver will invariably stand up with arms outstretched to Daddy. Like every single time. And you should see the boy's face light up with his daddy walks in the door after work. He's even more excited to see Eric than the unfed cats are.

But it's no wonder, really. Eric goes all lengths to make Oliver smile (and what a smile it is!). There are tons more gushing words I could say about Eric as a father, but I'll save them for some sappy Father's Day blog entry or something. For now, I just wanted to express my gratitude and share my amusement, as I'm sure Oliver was equally amused when Eric donned these get-ups to get a grin out of The Monk. Nice.

Oliver the Voyeur

2009-04-23T11:21:00.010-05:00

Oliver cracks me up. He's much like his daddy in the way he likes to just observe stuff. He's always surveying a situation. Site-seeing. Just generally taking it all in -- often skeptically. This is especially obvious when he gets around other kids who are playing. Whether it's at the park or at the Garfield Conservatory (as in photo above), he is typically more entertained by watching the other kids run and jump and play than he is engaging in those activities himself. In the case of the photo, he was watching kids run up and down stairs -- oooo.... fascinating. Nevermind the cool tree and books that were there for his enjoyment in the kids area of the conservatory.

But seriously, if he's having fun, then I'm having fun. There will be plenty of time for him to get in the thick of things, I'm sure. He's actually taken quite a liking to a slide in a park. I'm personally not a huge fan because his shoes get stuck and cause his feet to get caught underneath him, resulting in anything but a slide. If I wasn't holding him, he'd surely go head over heels and break his neck. Seriously. Here's a few shots of him at the playground last week. Eventually we're hoping not to have to wear hats and fleece jackets. I know it looks like the sun was shining, but it was still pretty chilly. Ridiculous.

Memory Lane: Applesauce Plus

2009-04-09T08:05:00.000-05:00

According to my iPhone, I took this memorable photo of Oliver on August 29, 2009 -- pre-blog.

Man, I loved those striped jammies. Also love how he made me crack up with applesauce all over his face and the bonus snot bubble. Even held and smiled for the camera despite it all. Can't say that too much has changed, really. He still makes a mess with applesauce -- although more now because I'm letting him learn how to use the spoon (not my choice, exactly, but abiding my the age-appropriate parenting advice notes). And he still has a perpetually runny nose thanks to daycare. More often than snot, though, it just runs down under his nose in an entirely uninspired fashion. Enjoy!

Word of the Day: Bay-buh

2009-04-08T08:52:00.005-05:00

Oliver's vocabulary is expanding -- and ever changing. I started this post a couple weeks ago when his most-identifiable word was "Bay-Buh," meaning bagel, which he wanted for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But, alas, time has passed since then and he's not nearly as obsessed. The bay-buh is definitely still one of the favorite food groups, though, and we make sure to always have some on hand.

He doesn't vocalize the Cinnamon Raisin part, but that is undoubtedly his preferred flavor. He didn't go for the blueberry I bought last week in a pinch. He does know, though, that they are kept on top of the fridge and points and grunts in that direction often. I know he shouldn't have them for every meal, but I usually give in if he's already eaten some semblance of protein or fruits/veggies. For awhile there, I thought he might turn into a bagel.

I still feel like he's on the verge of adding a bunch of new words to his vocabulary, but for now, there is still a lot of babbling and mamama and dadada with multiple and varied meanings therein. I'd blog about more of them, but some are just too difficult to map out phonetically, especially his other favorite food: CHEESE! (In this case, he is the product of his parents genetic make-up and predisposed to a love of cheese. Although, I suppose nurture plays a role, too, since we always have cheese around.)

Oliver's word for cheese is kind of a chhhh sound, but made by holding the teeth in clenched position and loosly pushing air through on either side of the tongue. It's a very difficult thing to depict phonetically -- kind of like letting the air out of a tire-sound, but just kind of -- and I have yet to be on-the-ball with the video camera. I have yet to give up either. I probably just need to set him up. Me with the camera. Daddy slowly opening the fridge to show Oliver the inside of the door where we keep the good stuff -- Processed American Cheese slices -- YUM!

Nature vs. Nurture: Baseball

2009-04-07T14:34:00.008-05:00

It’s a pretty common question I ask myself. How much of Oliver is just Oliver plain-and-simple – a 15-month-old little boy – and how much is he a product of his environment? That age-old question of nature vs. nurture.

On Saturday, on our second of three trips to Target of the weekend (pathetic, I know), I thought his behavior spoke loudly and affirmatively “Nature. I am who I am, regardless of experience.”

I had my back turned, deliberating the all-consuming question of what kind of outdoor trash receptacle we should buy, and when I turned back around, he was reaching for a wiffle ball and bat with all the grunting and whining of a little boy wanting a piece of sports equipment. So, of course, Daddy gave it to him.

At this point, I tried to deconstruct where he was getting this desire for the ball and bat. I mean, Eric and I could not be less interested in sports (with the exception of the tangentially related beer drinking). Then I was thinking that he might have seen our neighbor coaching his daughter in tee-ball earlier in the day (talk about forcing the nuture-factor), but it was also unlikely since they were down in the yard and we were busy up on our deck above. Or maybe he caught a glimpse of the Cubs on TV somewhere, also extremely unlikely since we don’t watch much TV and almost never sports. But ultimately, I concluded that he’s a boy and a love of sports must be innate.

I was excited to get the new toy home, to open it and let him play with ball and bat separately. I was especially curious to see him play since he hadn’t been overly interested in the balls I bought him from the going-out-of-business sale at Right Start earlier in the week (Tip: 30% off over-priced is simply regular-priced, not a steal by any stretch of the imagination. I’m such a sucker for a sale.)

However, in the interest of passing time and staying out of the house (where he otherrwise seems to get into more trouble than anywhere else), we hung out at Target a bit longer and let The Monk hold on to his prize.

Instead of swinging it around with a hey-batter-batter-hey or begging to have the package opened, as one might expect regarding a new toy, he insisted on pushing it around the store, holding it out in front of himself with the ball end down, and pushing it down the aisle, under the counters, into corners – using the plastic-packaged ball much like a janitor scraping gum off the floor. And really, really enjoying it all the while (as evidenced by this action shot below).

Against my better judgment, I tried to show him how to swing it, but again, he wasn’t interested in that use at all. He just kept pushing that thing around like a vacuum cleaner (also, unlikely as a learned behavior since I never vacuum myself). And he wouldn’t let me have it back. And he wouldn’t get back in the cart. And he wouldn’t follow us toward the check out. He just kept pushing in all directions and groaning (his focus mantra) and babbling (his joyful mantra). So needless to say, it was a long exit out of Target on that particular trip.

In any case, he has had as much joy from the thing at home as at the store and has not shown an ounce of interest in removing the packaging from around the ball. It’s really quite fun to watch. Next innovation will be somehow attaching a mop to the end of that thing so he can clean his own smooshed bananas from the floor.

Here Is Pointer

2009-03-24T19:56:00.013-05:00

How are you today, sir? Very well, I thank you. Run away, run away.

Oliver makes an initial impression of being a kind of cautious, precision-loving kid. You wouldn't expect this level of focus from a 14-month-old, but if there is something to be explored, the exploration is frequently intitiated with Mr. Pointer. His focus, often accompanied by a low groan or grunts, allows him to smash peas with a single press, skewer carrots into new orange fingertip, and start an art project with the exactness of a master painter.

Eventually, though, the focus, precision, and Mr. Pointer himself are replaced by flat-palmed rigor. Peas flying. Carrots smashing. Paint a la Jackson Pollock.

The photos above I took tonight as he disected his dinner. I should have taken a picture of the floor under his chair to show the aftermath of focus lost. Gross. (Grosser is that he tried to eat it off the floor later in the evening before I had a chance to clean it up. Ew.)

The photos below are from an art project in school. They called it "body painting." Just stripped the kids down, taped paper on the floor, and dumped out some tempera paint. He started out quite timidly, but had his fair share of paint on the bod by the time he was done. Can't quite figure out why the teachers would want to go through all the trouble, but I'm sure glad they did because it looks like good fun. Believe it or not he didn't come home with a drop of paint on him.

The unfortunate thing about this particular art project is that it was oversized and thus defies my plan to digitize all of Oliver's works of fine art with my scanner. I guess I'll have to really wimp out and take a photo of the work. It was pretty funny: Just days after I had posted my art-saving dilemma and plan, I read this amusing column on The Daily Babble. What's a mom to do?

Face Forward

2009-03-19T19:01:00.007-05:00

I guess it's been a week or so since we've been officially face forward in the carseat in both of our cars, but this is a shot I took with my phone on the day we flipped him around in my car. He seems very pleased, doesn't he?

It is kind of a fresh perspective, I think, and makes it a little easier to see and interact with him from the front, which we better get used to because they say that even when kids are out of their carseats and boosters, they are supposed to ride in the backseat until age 13. (Whatever?!)

I wish the iPhone took better photos so I could zoom in to show you Mr. Toothy Grin. He's really getting some whoppers. And it's really no matter how far apart they may be coming in, the doc says we should start brushing. I did buy the brush, but he really isn't too interested yet. I suppose I should really work on it, though. OK, I'll start Monday (hopefully with more enthusiasm and staying power than my typical Monday-morning diet kick-off).

I'll try to get a better shot of his choppers this weekend when we're in Fort Wayne visiting Grandma. I sure hope he enjoys his 3.5 hours of face-forward fun on the road there and back. I know I ~~won't~~ will.

Word of the Day: Mama

2009-03-11T19:54:00.006-05:00

When Oliver had his one-year appointment with the doctor, she asked how many words he was saying besides Mommy and Daddy. I was a bit stunned by the question, actually. It seemed a loaded to me -- I mean, was he even saying Mommy and Daddy?

Eric assured me that he had heard Mama and Dada, so that counts. What he didn't elaborate on is that Dadadada is simply the sound Oliver makes when he's enjoying himself while walking (he gets very proud of himself) and Mamamama seems to mean any number of the following:

Mama: More (generically)
Mama: More (of something I just had, often shortened to the familiar "Ma")
Mama: More (of something I have yet to receive and you must guess)
Mama: Milk (generally with an uprising questioning tone to the end)
Mama: Gimme (of something he sees and wants and is pointing to)

You can see where this is going.

As far as I can tell, Mama never means ME!

I'm cool with that, though. Really, I am. My mommy friends say that once they know that's your name, they never tire of using it at all hours undesirable and in all tones unappreciative. So I can wait.

I can't wait, however, til he really starts talking. Not so much for the developmental status nor for the convenience of enhanced communication, but simply because I'm sure it'll be cute and entertaining. And cute and entertaining helps to balance out kicking and screaming (see Guantanamo Bay in Chicago). The kid has become an absolute monkey on the changing table -- an angry monkey (kind of like that one in Chris's closet on the Family Guy).

Actually, now that I've started listening closer, I do think he's got a couple words in his repertoire, but really barely two, and I'll save those for another post. Given the way he babbles, though, I know he's definitely got something to say. Just hope it comes out soon. I'll need the blog fodder for sure.

First Haircut

2009-03-02T16:49:00.020-06:00

On Saturday, Oliver had his first haircut. And I have to wonder why we didn't do it a long time ago, as his bangs have been poking his eyeballs for months now.

We were in the car on the way to Garfield Conservatory and thought we'd give the haircut a shot since Oliver had been having a good morning with a great nap and was in a good mood.

At first, we thought we'd head down to Snippet's on Clybourn ("a specialized children's hair salon") to get the full treatment and certificate, but then decided it was just too much trouble because there might be a wait and traffic down that way is no fun. Plus, who needs to go to a place that offers a "Missy Manicure" service. So I called my friend Emily -- of Emily and "Theo of the Good-Looking Hair" -- to see where they go on the northside.

Turns out they go to "Julie" of salon-name-unknown and web-site-non-existent, which is no problem in my book because it just means no wait and no over-inflated prices. And like I said, Theo's hair always looks good (except that one time when his daddy cut his bangs and the other time when he went to bed with his hair wet).

So we headed over to Julie's place, which we learned is also known as JRH Kids Cuts.

Immediately we were put at ease by the presence of the car haircut chairs, a must-have for any first haircut. Phew. And Julie was very nice asking us if we wanted him to sit on our laps or in the car chair and if he would tolerate the apron around his neck. Turns out he was fine in the car and with the apron and with the snip-snip-snipping, thank goodness. Although, Julie was quick to remind us that every time is different and he might have a full-fledged fit next time, but so far so good. Although there were no tears, at one point Mr. Pouty Lip did come out.

The whole ordeal took all of 3 minutes and 6 snips to be honest. Not really worth all the pomp and circumstance -- although I did manage to take a fair share of photos, including him enjoying some playtime afterward in Julie's play area.

My own hairdresser tried to give me a tutorial the other day on how to cut Oliver's hair while he's sleeping, but I wasn't ready for that. Maybe at some point in the future now that I've seen how basic and less-than-precise the "professional" cut is, but I kinda doubt it.

Julie didn't send us home with an official certificate, but she did throw his hair into a small manilla envelope and gave Eric a ballpoint pen to label and date it.

I subsequently brought it home and put it into the awesome silver personalized keepsake holder that our friends Jeff and Richelle got us -- one for his first curl and one for his first tooth. I tried to take some pictures of it with the lid on so you could see how cool it is, but it's so shiny and kept just getting a reflection of me and my camera. So here's a quick shot of it and its contents:

Gitmo Chicago

2009-02-27T12:00:00.008-06:00

And that is why I can stand here tonight and say without exception or equivocation that the United States of America does not torture. -- President Barack Obama

And yet, to look at this photo of Oliver you might call me a traitor, un-American, in direct defiance of the leader of the free world.

What was I doing to him, you ask? Well, the same thing I do to him every day. Changing his diaper and/or changing his clothes.

When he was a little thing, he freaking LOVED the changing table. It was the go-to spot for whenever he was fussy. Even when he wasn't in need of a change, it brought smiles and laughs as he engaged with his lion mobile above head. But, no, not now. No way!

I've truly come to dread the whole endeavor. I'd leave him in the same outfit day in and day out if I didn't think the daycare would report me. I don't know what his problem is.

I guess I should be thankful that he's not any squirmier than he is. It's only the rare occasion that he tries to turn over and gets up on all fours up there. But really, I can't wait til he outgrows this phase. And for some reason it doesn't make a difference if I try to change him on the floor instead. And it doesn't make a difference if it's the strip-down or the cover-up part of the exchange. He's simply inconsolable.

More...

2009-02-26T07:29:00.003-06:00

Oh my gosh, I just witnessed Oliver eat a breakfast of all breakfasts. Man, that kid can eat:

First Course: Bananas
Second Course: Waffles
Third Course: Ham
Fourth Course: Blueberries
Fifth Course: Toast with Jam

Thank goodness it's the most important meal of the day! And thank goodness it should wait until he's safely at daycare to come out the other end. Pretty common feedback from the teachers at daycare: "Man, Oliver can eat. He loves to eat. It's his favorite part of the day."

Portrait of an Artist

2009-02-25T12:00:00.012-06:00

It is so cool that at Oliver's daycare, they do real art activities. I got to witness it in action on his birthday this year. I posted some photos to The Oliver Chronicles, but they had also taken these shots at school, where they laminated them, added captions, and hung them on the wall for a period.

He just had his quarterly "parent/teacher-conference" and "progress report" last week, so they sent home everything that he's created in his mere 6 weeks there along with these action shots. It's already quite a collection of original works, not including the valentine he adorned with his cute little footprints.

Of course, being as unsentimental as I am, I feel the conflicting sentiments brewing already. "Clear the clutter." vs. "Aw... my babies first fingerpainting". "If you don't use it, lose it" vs. "I wonder if I should use an acid free mat when I frame this crayon drawing".

And then my love for technology entered the picture and I thanked the heavens for the inventor of the affordable All-In-One printer/scanner/fax/copier that allows me to preserve his greatness in a format where it will actually get seen with relative ease. No, I'm not going to just pitch everything as soon as Windows tells me it's captured. We'll keep the hardcopy as backup, as I'm sure they will be worth something someday -- plus the scanner seems to be cutting off the edges a bit. But I do like the idea of scanning them in to create more of a catalog of work. Much more palatable for my organizing sensibilities. Plus, then I get to share them more easily with all of you. Please feel free to open the bidding at a level commensurate with Renoir.

With that, let me unveil The Winter Blues: A Frigid January by Oliver James Weinstein -- and for other great art, please see his Daddy's website (oh, wait, he doesn't have one -- Eric, get busy!):

Winning Numbers: 02-30-04-12-05-03

2009-02-23T12:26:00.010-06:00

Maybe it's worth trying to win the lottery with those numbers. Maybe they're cursed. Certainly feels that way as I am beginning to crash this afternoon after a long night of multiple wake-ups with The Monk -- 2:30, 4:12, 5:03. I mean, WTH?!

I suppose we can't really trust the numbers anyway since they're all based on my foggy half-asleep memory. I don't know what's up with the kid. We had him into the pediatrician again on Saturday, who said we are the winners of the Mega Millions Virus Lottery. He's getting one on top of the other from daycare, it seems, and just can't seem to catch a break. Poor kid!

Actually, he was much better on Sunday, when we had brunch at Jim and Dawn's with Sharon and Milos -- nice time. No crying or barfing or anything of the sort. And we learned that he really likes chocolate donut holes (I mean, who doesn't?)

Anyway, I digress... just wanted to moan and groan a bit about my desire to get a full night's sleep sometime soon. I actually have some sort of plan assembled in my head that involves early-morning workouts at a nearby gym. Of course, when I ran that hypothetical against this morning's circumstance, it didn't look too promising. A 5:00 baby-soothing session does not bode well for a 6:00 treadmill session. Oh well... maybe next week.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2009-02-20T16:32:00.010-06:00

I had thought of many titles for this post and many ways to frame it, but really wanted to showcase Oliver's awesome valentine he made at school, so I thought I'd tell you about Oliver's second-ever Valentine's Day last Saturday -- and let's just preface it by saying it wasn't all roses and chocolate.

Friday night involved pizza and beer (both in the "lots of" form) and a late night, so Eric and I woke up a little peaked as my Grandma Carnes would have said -- that's phonetically pee-kid (oh, the irony continues). But none-the-less we trekked up to Bubbie's house in Riverwoods for a Valentine's Day lunch with the whole family. It was great, actually -- a spread of comfort foods from cottage cheese and peaches to grilled cheese and tomato soup. Problem was, Oliver wasn't comforted by any of it. He just wasn't having any of it. Not interested and crabby as hell. So I take him out of the high chair and am sitting on the couch in the next room when it begins. The vomit. The hurl. The milky, parmesan-smelling, chunk of cracker barf.

Keep in mind that this is our first adventure in throw-up. Spit-up, as any parent will tell you, is a much milder and completely acceptable beast comparatively.

Let's just say thank goodness Bubbie and Poppa have hardwood floors because carpet would have been a disaster. He seemed to improve after that and by some grace of god, I had thrown in an extra set of clothes for the trip. But, no sooner did our original clothes come out of the dryer than he was up for a repeat performance -- this time on Daddy and in the kitchen. Poor kid. It really is horrible. Long story short, we get home, he does it twice more over the course of a few hours and finally goes to bed. We worry all night that he's going to choke on it and die in his sleep, but he makes it and we go about our business.

The weekend and into the week were pretty spotty with more incidents of lost lunches -- oh, and the all-night heaving session I had on Sunday and Eric on Monday. Details are unwanted. I understand. TMI, you say? I understand. I wish I could have skipped it, as well.

Overall it's been a rough week, but we got through it. He's feeling much better. Not eating as much and Er and I are about the same (don't you just hate it when NOTHING sounds good?). I handled it all much better than I thought I would, to be honest. I didn't completely freak out. And I didn't run away and leave Eric to clean it up. In fact, I found myself rushing to help because my baby wasn't feeling well, and well, I hate that.

This does not mean that when I see the following (a not-uncommon occurence in our house) that I rush quite as fast or at all for that matter. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Photo released with permission from Cub and Junior (origination unknown):

It's Still Freaking Cold

2009-01-30T10:36:00.003-06:00

According to the news last night we've only had four days above freezing so far this year. I am perpetually pissed off. It is unnatural to spend this much time indoors. I'm grateful, though, to have a great job that allows me to work from home and to have a baby who looks so cute all bundled up:

-- Post From My iPhone

Everything Is A Pushtoy

2009-01-26T17:48:00.002-06:00

Oliver is all over these days... And Eric and I got firsthand exposure to exactly how vast "all over" is, as we were home with the little monkey for a full week because he was sick.

In addition to crawling into every corner and crack, he found great entertainment in converting our furniture into pushtoys. Magazine rack - pushtoy. Kitchen chair - pushtoy. Step stool - pushtoy. Bar stool - pushtoy. New Dyson - pushtoy. Highchair - pushtoy. Toy chest - pushtoy. Wine rack (pictured below) - pushtoy.

And then there's the conversion of the kitchen cabinetry into climbing wall. But that's another story.

-- Post From My iPhone

Famous Likeness

2009-01-23T19:03:00.004-06:00

My sister just sent me this most excellent side-by-side:

Love it!

Happy Birthday, Oliver!

2009-01-21T14:51:00.000-06:00

Yesterday (plus a couple weeks because I'm a slacker blogger; actual DOB = 1/8/08) was Oliver's birthday. Hard to believe, but true. It started with a disaster of a morning and ended in a mess of cake and cream. Good times!

It was only his fourth day of daycare, which had been going OK but not great. He's pretty used to easy and quiet, so daycare is a bit chaotic and overwhelming for him. And it doesn't help when Mommy forgets to pack his woobie (small security blanket) and bink (pacifier). Ooops! I did, however, remember the little Dr. Seuss books I brought for all of the other kids in his class. Since they frown on sweets, it seemed like a good compromise. Cute books, really. I hope they like 'em.

So instead of running home to get woobie and bink, I thought I'd hit Target to buy back-ups of each, as well as a few guilt-gifts for putting him through such trauma this week and especially on his birthday.

But even before I left for the trip to Target, there were some tears at the daycare. He really didn't want to be there. His awesome teachers tried to distract him with an activity though. When I left, he was expressing his emotions via art -- Oliver with the Blues, it seems. Yes, those are tears on his cheeks.

Turns out Target didn't have his bink brand, so I bought a sampler of three other brands. Then they didn't have his woobie either -- a white teddy with lion embroidered on it. So instead he got the pink one -- a pink teddy with a ladybug embroidered on it. Sorry, Oliver.

We went through the same separation angst after I brought back the Target goods, along with a back-up woosher (musical crib toy) -- a splurge for sure at $32, but it was his birthday and I was feeling guilty. (Even more guilty knowing that all my Target trinkets didn't soothe him at all.)

BUT, when I returned in the afternoon to get him -- he was happy again. Teachers said he had a pretty rough day all day, but at least he was happy when I got there. He was wearing the awesome birthday crown that Miss Luce had made for him and was busy trying to walk.

Yes, WALK! He's doing a great job, actually. Although, it's hard to say what qualifies as first-steps. They always make it seem like a black and white issue, but when you get right down to it, there are definitely different grades of first steps. I mean, he took some first steps when we held his hands and jostled him along; he took some first steps when he started moving with his push toy; he took some first steps when he held just our fingertips. It's mostly clear that those don't count, but what about now... when he steps from standing to mommy or daddy, but kind of ends the sequence of two-to-three steps with a nosedive into our arms and the origin or the stand prior was because we stood him at arms distance from us. If that counts, then he's taken his first steps. If we have to wait for him to move successfully between inanimate objects without falling, then we have a ways to go.

Anyway... that night I picked up a couple slices of cake at Lutz (yum!), some candles, and a simple balloon. I fed him his standard, yet favorite, grilled cheese and peas and we waited for Daddy to get home for the messy celebration before bathtime.

Here he is enjoying his cake and signing a big finish: VIDEO.

That following Sunday we had a pizza party for him. I'll try to get that into a slideshow soon. Still have that cruise to document, too. Blogging is hard work. And, according to Eric, who was amiss when I told him I can't find the photos from our trip to AZ last April: "You're slacking as the family archivist." He has a point, but my 2009 resolution is to do the best I can at everything and to be satisfied with that instead of beating myself up about it. Huge challenge, but I'm working on it...

SAHD

2009-01-21T14:08:00.003-06:00

Oliver -- poor little guy -- has had a fever for the past few days and a cough for a couple weeks prior. I'm hoping he gets better soon, but in the meantime, he's been at home instead of daycare.

Monday was lucky because my client was observing MLK Jr. Day, so I didn't feel too bad about taking off. Tuesday was my 5-hour-day gig, so I was able to take that off without a lot of sweat (and a little gratitude because I was able to watch all the inauguration coverage live). But today, I needed to get some work done for my Maryland client so Eric stayed home with The Monk today.

Here are some excerpts along his eye-opening journey so far (and it's only early afternoon as I write this -- wait until the sundowns start)...

As he hit the snooze bar after I was up with Oliver for 45 minutes around 5:30: "How's his temperature? Is he going to daycare?"
With a tightening voice as I was bundling up to leave: "What am I supposed to do with him all day?"
First call: "This kid is a monkey. He's all over the place."
Response: "Should I be worried?"
Second call: "Man, you can't get any work done with him. I really thought I'd be able to get some work done."
Third call: "Sorry, that was Oliver playing with my phone."
Fourth call: "Aw, man, I was just about to get in the shower and he woke up. Do you think I can take him outside?"
Fifth call: "Ew, I think I should change him. He smells like he has a nasty poo."
Response: "Why don't you do that and give him a bath to make him feel better and pass the time?"
Eric: "I just gave him a bath."

Hahahaha... love it. I know I shouldn't be getting so much pleasure out of it. And, I know, like me, Eric is enjoying his day with Oliver for the most part, but it's so true that being a stay-at-home is WAY harder than anyone could imagine. So cheers to all my SAHM friends! Much props.

The Crowned Prince

2009-01-15T17:56:00.002-06:00

I'm working on a more detailed version to recount Oliver's first birthday (1.08.09), but since I'm stuck here in the car with him as he naps off another long, hard day at the new daycare, I thought I would post this cute photo of him I took with the trusted iPhone when I picked him up from school that day. His new teacher, Miss Luz, made it for him.

-- Post From My iPhone

The Gift of Warmth

2009-01-12T12:16:00.002-06:00

Our son is so generous. On the eve of his own birthday party, he decided to give his mommy a special present to warm her heart and saturate her bra and drip down on her socks:

-- Post From My iPhone

Year in Review: January 2008 (The Birth)

2009-01-07T20:27:00.012-06:00

If it were a year prior to the moment I am writing this, I would have been down at Prentice Hospital waiting for the induction meds to kick in. Hard to believe. Actually, 'hard" is a good word for January, really. It was hard times -- and of course, a few good times, too. (Warning: This is a long post... another one of those for the-good-of-the-archive more than the-good-of-the-reading.)

New Year's Eve was spent like a beached whale on the couch, as our stellar handyman, Esteban, put up some extra storage in our back hallway. I was really starting to get into nesting mode in anticipation of Oliver's due date of January 31.

I was done with what was a crazy December working on the Manage My Home site for Sears, so I could finally focus on our home -- a little ironic, I guess. Eric and I had spent a good amount of the holidays on trips to Ikea and Container Store and cleaning out closets and all that good stuff. I was also getting very excited for the shower that was set for January 6. (See awesome invitation at above!) My sisters were coming in from CA and my dear friend Emily was hosting at her place.

Friday, January 4 was to be my last day at work, but I was still doing this and that on Thursday and I also had a doctor appointment that day. Even though I had had some problems with blood pressure and been in the hospital once already for monitoring, I expected the appointment to be relatively routine. Turns out, the BP was high again so it was back to the hospital for an observation period. My sisters came into town on Friday to find me laid up at Prentice, where the views, the flatscreen TV, and Room Service were pretty novel, really. The doctors sent me home on Saturday on bedrest with orders to come back into the office for a check on Monday. That night we ate Thai Food (nobody had warned me that the salt was bad for my blood pressure), Sunday I violated doctor's orders and went to the shower. I took it easy over there, though. It was so great to see everyone and get so many awesome gifts. And most definitely a highlight: Emily's Bread Pudding! (which she made with croissants because she could find brioche or challah, so you can imagine how delish it was).

Monday, January 7, Eric and I went in to see Dr. McNair who didn't like what my pressure was doing, who made me pee in a cup even though I had to try like 5 separate times, and who said I wasn't dialated, but "That baby is cooked. Go across the street." So back to Prentice we went to get induced. Sent Eric home for the bag (which we hadn't even packed yet) and let the fun begin. I'll leave out the gory details here (and it was a bit gory to tell you the truth)... just know that Oliver was born some 27 hours later on January 8 at 5:something PM. Hooray! He was 7 lbs, 10 oz, but looked like a 20-pounder in the photo below, eh? Hooray! And Eric proclaimed him Oliver James (with some doubt and hesitation that maybe he was an Owen). Hooray! It was so exciting to have this little bundle. I hardly slept because I just couldn't stop staring at him in wonder and awe. Hooray!

Hooray, EXCEPT! After two days in the hospital, they sent us home, but mommy was not well. I couldn't breathe overnight and I was still very swolen. My BP was still high, skyrocketed in fact and I had to go back into the hospital through the ER (not fun). Long story short, I spent the next five days in the hospital missing Oliver and being really scared about my health and well-being. Oliver was well taken care of by his grandmas, though -- such a blessing.

The rest of January is a bit of a blur. The day after I got home, January 16, was Oliver's bris (wish I had some good pictures of that day, but I really don't -- everything is kinda blurry because of the no-flash rule). Then a week with mom here helping me, still not feeling quite myself but already so in love with that little baby. Then mom gone and Eric back at work. The weather was an absolute nightmare and we really didn't leave the house but for an occasional doctor appointment, so it was pretty aweful. Oh, that reminds me... when Oliver first came home, before I was readmitted, we took him to this barrio pediatrician office in Uptown. Let's just say that was a BAD IDEA! But we have a great pediatrician now, thank goodness.

And that was January 2008. And January 2008 was hard. And hard is character-building and perspective-giving and all worth it in the case of Oliver James Weinstein:

Your Baby's First Year of Life - Week 52

2009-01-05T14:44:00.006-06:00

The second you find out you're pregnant you sign up for these weekly updates from online magazines and mommy sites so you can monitor all those tiny developments like getting eyelashes and having identifiable private parts, all the while devouring your What to Expect book that lives on your nightstand.

Then, eventually, you have the baby and you move on to the second volume of What to Expect, which keeps your attention for maybe the first 6 weeks when you discard the seemingly common-sense advice. But, the emails, they keep coming. Who has time to unsubscribe with a 6-week-old to take care of? Mostly you skim them now, not following the links from the teasers to the more in-depth content. Then one day you get the one called "Your Baby's First Year of Life - Week 52." Week 52? What? How can that be?

It's true, though, this week is Oliver's 52nd week. The little diablo will be uno en January 8. (Sorry for the Spanglish, I read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao on vacation where the two languages were commonly interchanged.)

We aren't going to do too much for his big day. Just a family dinner on the Thursday, then a pizza with family and a few friends on Sunday. Oliver is hoping to take his Stroller Strides girlfriends out to lunch next week, too, but all-in-all it should be a quiet one. (Well, I guess three events isn't exactly "quiet" but in the whole Elmo-and-Dora scheme of things, pizza is quiet.)

And quiet is good.

We just got back from a very active vacation -- a 10-night Eastern Carribean Cruise! It was great to spend a lot of individual and extended family time (but more on all of our adventures at sea later when I get the hundreds of Oliver photos downloaded from our camera).

Also on the docket for blog later (blater?) is some sort of Year in Review effort. I've been thinking that I should try to do a little catch-up on the blog since I didn't start until September and he had 8-9 months of life prior that went entirely without commentary. The audacity!

So, visit often, comment more, and have a happy new year!

I Saw The Sign...

2008-12-19T08:15:00.008-06:00

... and it opened up my eyes... to the undeniable confirmation of the fact that Oliver is paying attention, soaking it up, learning all the time.

Since he was about six months, we've been using baby sign language with him despite zero response or seeming interest. I have felt pretty silly simulating milking a cow, drawing my hands outward from my nose like whiskers of a cat, and tapping my fingertips together while I said the corresponding "milk," "kitty," "more". But low and behold, he got it.

Last week it was questionable if he was really using the signs as intended or if it was a coincidence. The sign for milk kinda looks like the same as the "I'm fascinated with my hand and the way it can move" gesture he had done all along while staring at his moving fingers. And the sign for finished kinda looks like "I'm throwing my hands in the air because I can and it's fun."

But this week, he's really been using the signs in context. I'd say "Milk" is the big winner with "Finished" as a close second. "More" is usually the spoken "eeehhhhhheeee, eh, eh, eh" whine/grunt instead of the more-civilized fingertip tapping. And I haven't seen those kitty whiskers surface (but I had kinda dropped that one anyway to focus on the more action-oriented ones). It really is pretty amazing, though, to see him milk the cow around bottletime and to synchronize the all-finished sign with his spitting out of whatever bite he has in his mouth.

I'm not a fanatic by any means. I mean, I don't see the importance of tracing an elephant's trunk in the air to identify the African mammal. And can't see enough distinction between the signs for cold and afraid to really bother, but now that I've seen the power of this little sponge and the help that the signs can provide, I'm sorry that we didn't tackle more sooner.

I'm going to try to introduce "diaper" and "eat" soon so he can get those into his vocabulary, too. And since we eat a lot of bananas around here, that one seems apropo. The signs for mom and dad and grandma and grandpa would be sweet, but again they are all so similar (and a little weird -- tapping thumb to forehead is dad). I'm sure there are others that would be useful (especially now that I've taken some time to poke around on the web for more examples), but I have full faith that the boy will be speaking complete sentences by the spring (right?), so we'll just wait it out.

I don't have any good pictures of him signing, but again, poking around on the Internet, I found one of a boy signing "book," which (again, low and behold) is exactly what Oliver was doing last night when it was time for a book after his bottle. I kept going, "Book? Do you want to read a book?" Each time doing the sign for book that I know, which is putting the palms of your hands together, then opening them up with the pinky sides still touching. Oliver just kept doing this cute kinda gesture that we thought was indecisiveness, like "I don't know if I want to read a book." But, duh, this wrist rotation with the hands held together is probably a little advanced for the boy, so what you see is the babies turning their hands inside out and up, but away from each other. Wow. The kid is brilliant -- or maybe he was just signing "where?" Hmmm.

Grey Ice - Part Two

2008-12-11T10:22:00.001-06:00

I went back to the scene of the mishap over lunch with my trusted iphone in hand and was able to capture my tragic mis-steps. Classic.

-- Post From My iPhone

Milestone: Bipedalism

2008-12-10T12:32:00.006-06:00

Well, almost anyway. I'm guessing he'll be walking on his own in the next couple weeks -- even before his first birthday. What a superstar!

Eric has this theory that every time we travel or put Oliver in totally new situations, he changes dramatically -- "a new baby" as Eric puts it, so likely by the time we come back from our cruise in January he will probably also be skipping and doing the do-se-do. Actually, I do give the theory some credence, so I'm sure I'll have lots to post when we get back.

I've been a bit remiss with the posting, especially with the milestones:

I mean, the kid is practically off jarred food. He's a good eater and even likes his vegetables. Like most of us, though, he leans towards the carbs: crackers (of the graham or club variety), mac 'n' cheese, cheerios, cheezy-poofs, egg noodles, etc.

He is in size 18 months jammies. Despite his genetic origins, the kid is kinda tall and all of the feet in his 12-monthers have holes in the big toe area. OK, I'll admit, this might be partially due to the claw-like nature of his untrimmed toenails. You try taking the clippers to a bucking kangaroo.

And, get this: The kid appears to be fluent in Vietnamese: "Nngng Gngung". Since I am not, in fact, fluent in Vietnamese (and neither are you for that matter) this claim cannot be confirmed or denied.

I'm sure there are loads of other things I'm forgetting to chronicle here, but I'm doing the best I can, dammit.

Oh, in other news, Oliver is starting daycare in January when we get back from the cruise.

Grey Ice

2008-12-10T09:24:00.003-06:00

Why didn't I bring my phone with me on my bagel run so I could have snapped a photo?

Anyway... so I'm doing my morning bagel run (no, I cannot be deterred, even by several inches of snow and ice, plus I’m recovering from the stomach flu so I need my carbs, right?). And the alley that I usually walk down beside the ‘L’ tracks is pretty ice-packed, so I opt for walking directly under the tracks, which is typically ankle-twisting gravel, but in this case it seemed like traction-safe terrain with unblemished snow that I was enjoying walking on – tromping on, to be exact. Gotta get bagel.

Then I get to a part that looks like ice-covered asphalt – that grey color when black is made opaque by the ice. So I tread a little lighter, stepping gingerly with my right foot and “crack! Splash!” I’m ankle-deep in a pond. OMG! So again, I’m not deterred and instead of trying to back out, I plow forward four more steps through this pond of ice and slush. OMG! OMG! I announced with every step. And of course there were witnesses: “Don’t worry, I did it just last week,” one woman told me. Nice of her to say, since I sincerely doubt it.

Luckily, I was wearing my winter boots with jeans still tucked in them from the ice/snow removing session with my car on the street this morning. I’m not sure the boots are intended to be waterproof to full submersion, but so far, they are holding up OK. Just to be safe and with dry socks in mind, I think I’ll take them off and settle into work for the day.

I’m still grinning about what an idiot I am. On the way back, I especially enjoyed seeing my four-holed patch of ice. If only I’d brought my phone with me, I could have snapped a photo.

Today's Commute

2008-11-20T08:14:00.001-06:00

I'm blogging from the train that I very nearly missed. Winded and relieved to have just made it, I sit down next to this guy:

-- Post From My iPhone

The Boy Loves A Cat... The Boy Is A Cat?

2008-11-14T13:28:00.018-06:00

Oliver seriously loves our cats -- one more than the other, but we won't name names. His typical reaction to spotting a cat is a huge smile and an "eeeeee" squeal. He loves to plow his head into their tummies, but first he has to catch them (see strip one below).

The other day, though, I was a little concerned because not only does he love cats, he seems to be behaving much like a cat, as well. He's totally into batting a ball or a block out away from him, chasing it down and batting it again (see strip two). This behavior is quite amusing.

He's On The Move...and More

2008-11-07T15:11:00.006-06:00

No, I'm not pregnant again (thank goodness). The photo is to help illustrate my constant disbelief that this little tiny piece-of-rice-sized thang that grew in me for 9 months is now doing so much more than I ever expected. He's turning more and more into a boy everyday. It's really quite amazing. Downside is that all this new development means that he's too excited about stuff to sleep as much as he should, but I'm hoping that too shall pass.

It really is so cool that he is:

crawling! (especially chasing the kitties all over the house)
eating cherios (1 of every 5 even fed to himself by himself)
babbling (more dada than mama, an occassional uh-oh, and eeeeeee for kitty)
looking more and more like his daddy everyday
playing with the TV remote control and staring expectantly at the screen
standing up holding on to the couch, crib rail, or cool singing block that our friends Sharon and Milos got him.
looking at the appropriate person or thing when prompted with "Where's X?"
waiving bye-bye (not consistently, but enough to bring a crowd in a restaurant lobby into a unified "awwwww...")
identifying "nose" on his own and others' faces
patting pictures of kitties in animal books before or exclusive of others
sticking his tongue out constantly, making his mommy think he might actually get teeth someday
focusing in and pointing at the most miniscule piece of dust, dirt, or litter (almost always accompanied by an extended groan)
eating yogurt and cream cheese
weighing almost 21 pounds
getting a real kick out of watching other kids play
enjoying library time with Nani (Pushpa) - Man, I just noticed that the Picassa red-eye corrector did a number on Eric and Pushpa's eyes. They generally do not look that creepy.
laughing uncontrollably when tickled at the tops of his thighs
getting whispy little duck curls on the back of his head

And those are just the good things. I'll leave the bad for another post, I suppose.

A Dragon Lives in Michigan

2008-10-29T09:00:00.006-05:00

This past weekend was our second annual trek to Saugatuck to see the fall colors and spend a weekend in the small tourist-friendly Michigan town. Eric and I went last year when I was pregnant and were excited to engage in the Fall Festival activities at a different level this year. As it turned out, we spent most of our time in bars, as the gift shops and craft booths got a little old and the outdoor festivities got a little cold. BUT in any case, Oliver was a hit in his dragon costume throughout. We're not typically "Halloween people," but something about a kid in a furry suit gives it some appeal.

Our fun started on Thursday, when I my sister Danielle and her able, helping hands arrived from California to come on the trip with us. Friday was spent packing (a feat seriously underestimated by my husband) and driving (amazingly decent traffic for a Friday). The leaves were pretty along the way, but it was a little overcast, so not nearly as magnificent as they were when we drove around on Sunday while Oliver napped in the car.

First thing we did when we got there was go to the "Whatever we do, I'm not going to that horrible bar across from the hotel" place. Turns out that when you're not pregnant and people are not smoking, a bad bar becomes a great bar with excellent draught selection and a pretty decent menu. In fact, we returned toThe Boathouse on at least three more occassions and an attempted fourth. Oliver was a terror that night, not going to sleep until 10 p.m. and waking up pretty much every two hours thereafter.Ugh.
So we weren't especially well rested for Saturday, the big event. Oh well, such is life with a baby... We started with breakfast at thediner across the street from our hotel, then it was naptime, so Danielle put The Monk to bed and Eric and I did the touristy shops, where I bought a book and some cards by Brian Andreas, who writes these cool little vingette story poems that actually touched me, even though I'm not normally very schmoopy. We also bought ourselves some toasty warm hats to get us through the inevitable winter.

As we tooled around town all day, we were continually running into this group of women organized into teams who were doing a scavenger hunt. Seemed like a lot of fun, so we got involved where we could and I ended up having a woman eating a banana while sitting on my shoulders. Turns out they were all staying at our hotel, so we hung out in the community room with them while they did the final scavenger hunt counts and round-ups. Nice ladies. Great idea for the scavenger hunt. I might have to try something similar sometime.

By the time Eric and I were done exploring on our own Saturday morning, Oliver woke up, it was time to don the Dragon costume, to drink an afternoon beer, to cruise through the craft booths, and to do more shopping and time killing until the parade. Was a good time. Everything is just funnier when you have a 9-month-old dressed as a Dragon in tow. The Halloween Parade in Saugatuck is exactly two blocks long and we joined just at the end, but had a good time anyway. (We managed to miss the Adult Halloween Parade in nearby Douglas that night, but that's really another story.)

After the parade, we stayed out and about and tried to tire out our little Dragon, which seemed to work pretty well. A highlight of the tiring out was a trance induced by a Barry White "karaoke" number -- see the 2:00+ minute video of said Dragon watching a musician at The White House Bistro -- HILARIOUS. We were grateful for the Dragon costume for keeping the little guy toasty throughout the day because it was pretty dang chilly.

Saturday night Eric and I went out to Douglas and I got my face painted like a pumpkin and drank more beer. No surprise there.

The next morning, we packed it up and headed out of town. First to Douglas's Kalico Kitchen for some breakfast buffet -- grits and biscuits and ham and eggs and potatoes and not a piece of fruit in sight. Then, of course, we had to stop at Crane's Pie Pantry for some PIE and CRISPS. Yum! But before pie, of course, we had to drive around so Oliver could finish his snooze, so we detoured and saw some seriously awe-inspiring leaves. The sun was shining so brightly and the colors were super. We stopped at a lakeside park, too, and took turns bundling up and walking down to the beach where the waves were big and the gusts of wind even bigger. Good times!

On the way home, we stopped at a Halloween USA to get our costumes for the big party next weekend, but more on that later. And that's about it.

Sorry for the length of this posting and the play-by-play nature, but in addition to broadcasting updates to all of you through this blog, it also serves as diary / journal for me, so I'll need to come back to this next year when I start questioning the expense and the hassle of a roadtrip to Michigan. As it turns out, it's all worth it and I'm sure we'll do it again -- hopefully with Aunt Danielle again because that made it all that much more fun!

Chronology is For Losers... and other blogging excuses

2008-10-27T14:51:00.003-05:00

So, I've been a bit negligent of the ol' blog here. Sorry 'bout that. I'm suddenly very busy and have also been getting really hung up on the standard convention that says a Blog is a Web Log and a Log should have some sense of order in time, regardless of its web-like medium. Thus, I'd need to post that cute photo I took of Oliver four weeks ago, before I can post a summary of our trip to Madison, before I can post that random thought I had (when was that, anyway?), before I can post a summary of our trip to Saugatuck. Of course, I also have some deluded belief that a blog post is only as good as its accompanying art. So that means I'd have to download all of the related photos to the above posts before anything else. And then, by that point, dammit, it's all old news. Grrr...

But, lucky you, I've decided that the time continuum is bunk. This is my blog and I'll do whatever I please, even if that means random misordering, photo-less posts, or even more than one post in a day if I feel like it. Now, preaching about this new approach and actually embracing it may be two different things for ol' Denise here, but I am going to try to let go of my need for things to be orderly in this case. Let's call it business-analyst therapy.

So stay tuned for some new posts about this and that and the other.

Well, That Made It Easy

2008-10-03T08:56:00.007-05:00

Looks like Oliver will be making Hoyne Avenue his home for awhile.

We've been struggling since Oliver was born to figure out our next move house-wise. We hope to bring another Weinstein into the world at some point and the 2BD/2BTH condo probably wouldn't cut it, so we are trying to anticipate what's next for us. For some reason this is an extremely difficult decision for us -- part laziness, part resistance to change, part an aversion to spending money.

So, anyway, one of the top contenders for the next move was converting a 3-flat rental we own into a single family home. It has a beautiful backyard, a three-car garage, a great neighborhood, and would yield 4,900 square feet of living space (including a sunlight adorned third floor for Eric's painting studio) -- quite a move up for us.

We engaged an architect to help us figure out if it could be done, if a 108-year-old home could be converted to modern luxury. We passed that test and worked with him to do a basic layout of the dream home -- 5 bedrooms, 4 baths, and a bonus two-bedroom apartment on the ground floor (to help subsidize the mortgage). Next step was to get a contractor to give a rough estimate based on the layout -- not a specific bid, but a rough estimate. That was three weeks ago and the numbers came back yesterday.

$525,750

(not including lighting, plumbing fixtures, tile, cabinetry, which would run another $80K). Hold on, let me get my check book. And keep in mind this is an estimate -- we all know what that means, right? Oh, yeah, and let's not forget that we still owe hundreds of thousands on the 3-flat itself. What a mess!

Actually, it's not too much of a mess. It does well as a rental and we'll probably just hold on to it and let the rents pay down the mortgage. And things actually seem a little less messy as we eliminate the myriad options, which was the point of this whole exercise in architecture anyway... but we've still got the big question of WHAT'S NEXT? Could be a new house in this neighborhood, or a move to another hood closer to the highway for Eric's commute, or in a better school district, or gawd-forbid the suburbs.

For now, though, as with all things having to do with finances and economy these days, I think we'll just hold tight and enjoy the conveniences of not having to walk more than 15 steps to get a crying baby from his crib or more than 30 to carry the laundry from the hall stackables to the bedroom. It doesn't mean our dreams of a wrap-around front porch and plenty of room for entertaining and guests are dead, but we are grateful to be one step closer to knowing what the next step is -- or isn't, as the case may be.

$8.71

2008-09-29T10:56:00.007-05:00

Uh-oh, I've started a very bad habit. And it seems to be getting worse.

I have this great new office space that I share with a bunch of independent-contractor types like myself. I have fully justified the expense of the rent against my sanity, my ergonomics, and my hygiene. All worth it. More than worth it, in fact.

But what I didn't calculate into the equation are the coffee runs -- not to my kitchen anymore, but to the corner cafe, Beans & Bagels. Now, if it were just Beans, it would probably be OK, but for some reason I can't resist the Bagels in there. It started with just a bagel and cream cheese (still a luxury, but reasonable) and now I'm up to a full lox sandwich every morning. Not only does this come to $8.71 with my large iced coffee, it spoils my lunch which I (or Eric, rather) packs every morning. It's like a double-whammy of waste.

But I really can't help myself. It's so delicious over there and I feel like I'm helping out the small guy in these tough economic times by passing by the Starbucks, right? Plus, it helps break up my morning. Plus, it's always an interesting walk down the alley under the 'L' tracks to Montrose. Plus, eating Jewish donuts helps me to feel more a part of the family. Plus, plus, plus...

Not sure what I'm going to do about this addiction. Unless B&B moves, I can't imagine stopping my morning break over there. Maybe when the weather changes, I'll change my ways. Or maybe if the Dow drops 777 points in a single day... oh wait, shit, that happened today.

Oy vey! And Happy New Year!

4800 Block of North Hoyne

2008-09-24T13:23:00.009-05:00

I love our neighborhood.

This is a new-found love that comes with having children, I think. I mean, I've always liked where we live, but now that Oliver's in the picture, we find ourselves fraternizing with our neighbors much more -- and really enjoying getting to know everyone. We especially love all the diversity -- Cambodian kids next door, Indian nanny, Guatamalan girl whose mother owns a Mediteranean restaurant around the corner on Lawrence Ave.

Not to equate Oliver to a dog, but I feel like a "dog person," experiencing the attention and camaraderie that comes with having a dog around. We're becoming more and more involved with all the kids in our neighborhood (even though there's nobody quite Oliver's age). It reminds me of when I was a kid running around with all the neighbor kids -- really good memories. Of course, we have city-issues to contend with -- like traffic (we're petitioning the city for speedbumps at least) and having only a sliver of a berm and a stretch of sidewalk on which to play. But all in all, it feels like community and feels like home.

Every afternoon (after school, I presume) all the kids get together and hang out on the sidewalk to play -- with a good handful of parents keeping an eye. Even our nanny (Pushpa) spends her free time out there with all the kids. Yesterday afternoon I was on my way to the grocery store (actually just Chuy's, the somewhat-pathetic corner market) and was waylaid by the gathering, put down our blanket (still in my backpack from Stroller Strides) and proceeded to hang out til nearly dark.

Oliver loves to watch the other kids. He sometimes gets a little overwhelmed, but it's all good fun. Toys are discouraged, though, because of the issues that come with "sharing" among so many kids.

We are really trying to savor these last days of summer. Can't believe next year he'll be running around with the lot of them.

Happy Camper!

2008-09-22T13:07:00.011-05:00

Oliver went on the second camping trip of his life this past weekend and had a great time. We went camping at Yellowstone Lake, Wisconsin, a favorite spot of ours -- especially every other year, when nearby Monroe hosts the every-other-year (bi-annual, semi-annual? you tell me.) Green County Cheese Days Festival.

From CAMP08_Yellowstone

It was really the most beautiful weekend for camping -- nice and cool in the shade and overnight, but clear and warm in the sun. For those adventurous enough to trek down the hill from our campsite (Eric, Dawn), there were beautiful sunsets over the small lake, too. (The rest of us just peered through the branches around our campsite at the bright orange sky).

Oliver had a great time playing with Christian, who he was also meeting for the second time in his life (I just love saying that). Christian is the son of Andrew & Christa Weiss and is just about a month older than Oliver, so it was good fun to see them play together on the Neat Sheet (which I highly recommend for outdoor fun).

The Weisses travelled all the way up to Wisconsin from Urbana/Champaign -- so great to see them! And Jim & Dawn Finn joined us on Saturday (all the way from Arlington Heights), and willingly joined into our lazy group around the campfire. Thanks for being such sports, Finns!

The friend-fest continued in Monroe on Sunday where we saw the Harts (Ryan, Catherine, Henry, and Caroline) -- although very briefly (such is life with children in tow). Check out the full photo album to see some great shots of Henry on Ryan's shoulders watching the parade. (And, as a side note, please do not get the wrong impression of all the beer/baby compositions. No babies were harmed in the filming of such fodder. There is, however, some shame in the amount of beer the grown-ups went through in just 2 days of camping. But, c'mon, when in Rome... when in Wisconsin, right?)

I have to admit to a slight disappointment in Cheese Days, though (even after I advised everyone else not to build expectations too much). You see, I LOVE cheese. I mean really, really LOVE it. And I have come to the conclusions that Cheese Days as a theme is not lived up to by the festival. Sure, they have the elected "Dairy Queen and Princess" on their float and they have a wonderful cheese tent where you can fight your way to free samples, but beyond fried cheese curds and a grilled cheese sandwich, there is a lack of cheese-inspired food choices for purchase. I'm not sure what other choices I'd suggest, but really, there wasn't a cheesy nacho in sight. How 'bout cheese on a stick? Good 'nuff for me. Or hunks of cheese shaped into elephant ears? Or a quesadilla? Is that too much to ask? There were some good-looking cream puffs (dairy-deliciousness close enough to cheese to pass the test), but between the crowds, the 4-hour parade (things move a little slower in Wisconsin), the bees, and a crying baby, we needed to hit the road.

But at the end of the day, we had a really awesome weekend. We're so lucky to have a baby who is such a trooper. Thanks for making this installment of The Oliver Chronicles such a happy one, little man. We look forward to many years of successful trips, of enchiladas in the fire, of rice crispie treats for breakfast, and of wonderful memories with family and friends.

Test Post for BlogPress

2008-09-18T18:15:00.001-05:00

This should be a vertical photo of Oliver in a beer box.

-- Post From My iPhone

A Tired Mommy

2008-09-18T17:36:00.002-05:00

Yes, I poured baby formula into my glass of ice water.

And yes, posting photos from my iPhone automatically treats them as landscape, which is what I was trying to test out with this post anyway. This could be SERIOUSLY limiting.

Any of my HTML-brilliant friends out there know if there is a way to rotate a photo in the mark-up? Seems like a stretch. I'll have to write a nasty review to the makers of my iPhone blogging tool: BlogPress (http://blogpress.coollittlethings.com/)

-- Post From My iPhone

I Want A Blog!

2008-09-18T16:20:00.000-05:00

I've had the strong desire to blog lately. It's not that I have that much to say, really, I just think it would be a nice diversion, a nice thing to call my own, and a nice way to keep in touch with friends and family (beyond the reaches and depths of Facebook, to which I am also recently addicted). I saw that my long-lost but recently found friend Joan (Canada) Gallob has a blog on her family and it seemed to make sense to me to have one of my own -- even if part of me questions the self-importance it might convey.

Obviously, I'll have a lot of Oliver tales to tell, but I can already anticipate some diatribes of my own, however trivial (like the Jewel shopping cart that had me ranting and raving through checkout at 7:30 this morning) or seemingly dire (like my chronic indecision over whether to go for the "dream home" or not, and the ever-pressing question of public vs. private schools -- yes, I know he's only 8 months).

I welcome all comments and dialog, so don't be shy. More to come...