Oliver is getting so big lately. He’s almost 11 months old, and he’s starting to look like a little boy as opposed to being our little baby. It’s the strangest thing to realize that he’s not really that little helpless baby anymore. He has the biggest smile now, and he’s getting close to standing up without holding onto something. His latest thing is standing on one side of his pack n’ play and then letting go and moving across to the other side.
Below are a couple pictures. What do you think? Does he look like a baby or little boy to you?
Molly, our crazy goldendoodle, enjoys the snow. So she was in luck today, since we got about 6 or 7 inches of the white stuff overnight. I have been working from home today, and the wife and boy are here as well.
Anyway, we have the mother-in-law’s awesome camera again, and I was able to capture some Molly-in-the-snow pictures like never before. I took these while she was racing back and forth like a crazed, insane moron. Anyway, enjoy:
And after that burst of excitement? Nap time of course:
To celebrate Inauguration Day, I created some Lopinot “Obamicons.” No, it’s not enough that I’m watching Barrack and his wife dance to the same song over and over and over again on CNN. Am I too lazy to reach for the remote or just too tired?
OK, so first off here I must say that this post might gross out those of you with weaker stomachs. The subject alone is probably going to gross out my wife. I’m here to talk about my beloved pillow.
What a pillow it’s been. It’s older than many of my co-workers (yes, even you Susan). The white flower pattern can barely be seen, its strings are falling off and it’s full of more stains than I can count. But I have loved the pillow from day one.
The legend begins around 1982 or 1983, at a Wal-Mart in Carbondale, Ill.
The pillow made the move to Florissant, Mo., in 1984. And it made it to Springfield, Mo., in 1993. During that period, I had to pull the rapidly deteriorating pillow out of the trash at least two times (mom thought she could sneak it out!).
When I left for Fontbonne College in 1994, my pillow was considered an essential. It survived three dorm rooms and then, after college, saw me through three jobs, four apartments, my friend’s basement and lots of other ups and downs. It was there with me, too, when I met my future wife. Though the two didn’t see eye to eye, the pillow made it through our move to St. Charles, Mo., as well as our marriage and the birth of our son.
Sarah even tried my mom’s trick by trying to toss the pillow out. I pulled it out, of course. And she later stuffed it into a zipped-tight pillow protector. But I would have none of it. Nothing could replace my pillow and all of its worn-thin goodness.
Then, about two years ago, I got sick after a work function. I spent the next couple nights sleeping in the guest room and using a newer pillow. I realized that maybe I could move on. It took a while. The pillow was my on-again-off-again sleeping partner for over a year. But I did give it up for good about seven or eight months ago.
And yesterday, the pillow finally bit the dust. With my mom in town for the weekend, I thought a fitting send off would be to let the two women in my life throw it in the trash bin.
In closing, I must say that I’ll always remember and miss that pillow. It’s seen things and been through so many highs and lows with me. No pillow will ever take it’s place. And though I’m not crying on the outside, it hurts deep down to think of my pillow rotting away at a landfill. Oh well. Life goes on.
Today was quite the day. Things started off well. Oliver said, “Da-da” (at least in reference to me) for the first time. It was pretty cool.
Work was fun, but it was a long day. I’ve been working on a big video project for a client.
So with the long-day theme going, at almost 6 p.m. I get a call from Sarah on my cell phone. “I just got home and all the fire alarms are going off. What should I do?,” she said in a panic.
I’ve heard of people going into burning buildings and dying, and I didn’t want to take any chances. “Go in the back door, grab the dog quickly and then go sit in the car. I’m calling the fire department,” I responded.
So that’s what I did. After making the call from my office, I sent the e-mail I had been working on and sprinted out to my car. Weaving in and out of traffic, I made it home in record time.
A firetruck was parked in front of our driveway, lights ablazing. It was a little surreal, but it wasn’t (thankfully) a fire. Everything is OK. Turns out that one of our fire alarms went bad and started firing off. That triggered all the other alarms to sound.
Who knows how long our poor dog had to listen to that noise (she said she could hear the alarms saying stuff like, “Fire. Fire. Please exit the home.”). Pretty scary, I’m sure.
After we got in the house, we had a few good laughs at all the items we had laying around. The three firefighters were in our house for about 30 minutes. They had to chuckle at the giant (I’m talking 2 pounds!) back of generic “Koo-Kies!” cereal (it’s like Cookie Crisp, and yes I enjoy me some Cookie Crisp). I’m sure the dirty underwear on the floor, “Anna Green Gables” box set and many other items in our messy house also provided some good laughs. Not really how we thought the evening would go.
In talking to one of the fine gentlemen from our local fire department, I was told that fire alarms sometimes go bad after about 10 years. Since our house is now going on 11 years, I think it’s time to swap out all the alarms in the house. Sounds like a weekend project …
With a lot of time off the past few weeks, I had the chance to hang out with my friend Mike a couple times. Like me, he has a baby at home. And like me, he finds it a rarity to get a home-cooked meal with much frequency.
However, unlike Mike, I’ve been taking the situation into my own hands. I think he finds it funny that I cook things other than easy stuff (Hamburger Helper anyone?). As proof, below are pictures of the Penne Saporite “Il Frantoio” I made a few days ago. It’s a fresh, homemade sauce with penne pasta. I added chicken to the recipe I was following, and topped our servings with some spices and mozzarella cheese. The first picture below shows it in progress, with the finished product at the bottom of the page.
OK, the coolest thing happened yesterday. We’ve been using baby sign language with Oliver for several months, trying to get him to “tell” us what he wants, as opposed to grunting. Well, yesterday, it finally worked. He is now signing “more” when he wants more food. To make this sign, you move your thumbs and fingers together and touch the 10 digits in front of you (if this makes no sense, Google it for a better explanation).
Here’s a short video of one of the first times our baby used sign language:
Still skeptical? Here’s further evidence:
Would you like to sign “more” to me? I have lots more video proof here. Pretty cool, isn’t it?
There has been a lot to celebrate the past few days. My birthday (33 years old – yeesh!) was Tuesday and, of course, New Years was yesterday. And today? Today marks the one-year anniversary of the start of this blog. There has been a lot to write about this past year, and I anticipate 2009 will be filled with additional memories to share.
With the start of this new year, let me know what you think about Blog Full of Letters? What stories and photos would you like to see/read? What would you like to see more or less of in the future?