Fresh Out

Two days ago I was hating myself for not having texting in my plan.  Because waaaay over in Tennessee little Clara Lou was born, and she was there in all her blonde-haired glory making those tiny squeaking noises in a glass bed, but I couldn't see her because we aren't texters, and we don't get videos from our friends on our phones. Or pictures from our sisters after their babies are born.**

And, duuuuude.  I was really missing out.

Is it even fair for a kid to have such good hair, hours out of the womb?  I thought it was supposed to be all greasy and cotton candy-like. 

Look at that pout face!  Later this month I'm flying to Knoxville to see her, bite her face, and rifle through all her baby clothes.  She's the first baby in our family!  We already love her so much.

**That's right, Sis.  I linked to your blog, who's been sleeping ever-so-soundly for years.  I even poked around at Rilo Kiley and Feist, and I think may have disturbed her because she yawned at me.  Maybe it's time to shake that thing to life again with some pictures of your nursery and your baby as she grows.  And stories about giving birth and the first time June steps on her head.

Cheese and Fruit

Several days ago I was emailing my friend Jess, saying how I really don't care what my kid is like - as long as he or she isn't too serious, knows how to have a conversation with adults, and has an appreciation for good cheese.  That last part I wasn't even thinking about, it just came out.  Little did I know, I was about to meet The Coolest Kid in the Whole World and he would prove my own point back to me.

It started when I got a call from good ol' Williamsburg.  It was my friend Jen saying she and Matt were coming through the area on their way to a big airshow in Osh Kosh, and would we want to hang out, maybe grab dinner?  That turned into yes! and then they were going to be spending the night and bringing their baby Ian, fifteen months old.  Matt is a commercial airline pilot (and Ian, by necessity, is quite a Road Warrior we later learned) and they go where the wind takes them when they get the chance.  The night before they came, Dustan and I were in the guest room setting up a Pack n' Play we had borrowed for little Ian to crash out in.  Thaaaaaat was interesting.  It's the first time I've ever set up a Pack n' Play and this is what I learned.  There are rules for such assembly.  Rules that must be obeyed.  If you don't read the directions and follow them, someone's baby is getting a leg snapped off at the knee.  After the ninth "Why...aren't....the sides....LOCKING??" we decided to read the secret manual.  We got told by a Pack n' Play.  And afterwards, our eyes met, mirroring the vacant feeling of having been mastered by baby gear.  It sucked, and I'm not looking forward to that happening again.

I was sitting on the couch thinking a little bit later and started hollering my thoughts back towards the bedroom for Dustan to hear.  "I hope that little baby likes us!"  Pause.  "I mean, I hope he's a good boy.  I hope he's not a monster."  Another pause.  "Because I know Matt and Jen are cool...but what if they don't make him mind, and he pulls Trail's ears and stuff?"  Now I'm not waiting for a response.  "Cause you know how sometimes kids mess their parents up, no matter how cool they were at the beginning.  And what if the music keeps him up all night?  Did you tell them we're above a bar?" 


Ok, so I'm in the bathroom blowing my hair when they get here and when I come out, there's Matt and Jen and Ian.  Immediately it was awesome.  I knew they hadn't been ruined by their kid.  They were happy with him, but not overly.  Jen put him on the bar in the kitchen and he said, "Blueberries," and started cramming his face full of blueberries.  We greeted each other and Ian just knelt there, eating busily.  He looked up at me and caught my eye and said "Camera."  He had big brown eyes and a shaggy mop of hair.  I thought of Fievel on The American Tale.

Jen was telling us he eats everything.  She gave him salmon sushi and he devoured it and wanted more.  She calls it her 'expensive experiement.'  Now I'm kinda eyeballing this kid because he just got way more interesting.  Jen points to one of the cheeses on the tray and goes "Ian, what's this?"  I was totally unprepared for his response.  He looks at it and goes "Ha..varti."

Really, Ian?  I was like (to Dustan) "See?" and then (to God) "Jesus, please let our kid be this cool!" and then (to Jen) "Does this mean I need to get my Ph.D in physics?"  Because...she, um, has that, and is a rocket scientist for NASA.  So maybe that's why her fifteen-month-old has so many words in his bank.  Either way, I was totally charmed.

But speaking of the whole fifteen-month-old thing, remember that one time I was busting on mom's for speaking in a weird time warp language?  I get it now.  I'm in the Club.  Because today, I'm 12 weeks pregnant.  In real-people terms, that means three months.  But in preggo terms, it means I'm starting to leave my first trimester and enter my second trimester.  Hopefully, I will also leave behind the gags and the pukes and the cravings and the interminable wasteland that the first trimester has been.  I'm not 10 weeks, I'm not 11 weeks, definitely NOT 13 weeks, so...that's how it goes.  I can't tell you I'm three months pregnant because even though that means everything to you, it means nothing to me.  12 weeks means my Blueberry is going to Fruit Graduation today and becoming a lime!  She's already gone from blueberry to grape to strawberry to kumquat to fig, according to my updates from Babycenter.  And that's why every time I read those updates, I really really really want a smoothie.  (Except today, when she becomes a lime, and I can only think of that Corona billboard).

That's my fruit news, in other fruit news - like what kind of fruit, Sis?  Pineapple?  Watermelon?  (cringing)  Sis is about to have a real live baby.  Check out her dreamy baby shower.