Dear Jarrett

Dear Jarrett-
Wow. I'm really impressed that you took the time to send me a handwritten thank you note. Really, I am. But its SO not necessary. I should thank you instead. Thank you for shipping in all those lovely transvestite sized shoes for me and my big - footed sisters. Keep it up!
Yours,
Diana

Really?

Babies need cologne? I had no idea. Found this at WalMart. It smells like....baby. If you are a baby and you need cologne, why would you want it to smell like...baby?

That's How We Roll II

This week will be the week he makes it all they way over to his belly. He's almost there!

That's How We Roll

So, a month or so ago I read an article in New York Magazine about the lobster glut and what it has done to lobster dining in NYC. Apparently, for whatever reason (global warming, pollution), lobster's main predator--the cod--have died out and now the lobster population is exploding. In the article they mentioned that one of the best lobster pounds, Red Hook, in Brooklyn, was about to lanuch a loster truck in Washington D.C. I immediately began researching!

The Red Hook Lobster Truck began operations downtown about a week ago. They've been a massive hit, with lines as long as two hours to get a lobster roll. They Tweet their location every day and I've been following them to see if there is ever a time that we could get there. But, alas, with full time jobs in the 'burbs and two kids, it just wasn't working out.

So, last night I did the next best thing. Made them myself, with lobster meat picked by Bob. Having spent so much time in Maine, I know what a good one tastes like, and these were spot on perfect. Lemon juice, mayo, melted butter, toasted roll, a touch of cruncy celery, and for me--a dusting of Lemon Herb Old Bay seasoning. Spectacular. The only way it would be better is if my feet were hanging off a dock in Maine somewhere.

Balloons

Last night we were honored to be on the street in front of Declan Carmical's home as hundreds of balloons were sent to heaven to celebrate the birthday of Declan and his twin brother, Cole. I haven't posted anything in Tatertown about this because I have been struggling with my own reaction to it.

Declan is a sweet little boy who passed away last week, before his first birthday. I won't go into the story here because I cannot nearly do it justice. His family, primarily his mom, has kept chronicle of their days since diagnosis and you can learn his story here. I urge you to be strong and read it.

I don't know this family. The only things we have in common that I know of are that we live in the same neighborhood and we have children that we love. I learned of them several months ago from my friend Lee, who went to high school with Declan's mom. I can't say that I followed their blog day by day because I didn't. And that's because I'm a coward. But as things grew more and more grave and folks in the neighborhood were increasing their vocal and strong support for this family, I couldn't hide. I'm sure there were days that they wished they could ignore what was happening to them and they could not. I am ashamed of my cowardice.

Pretty much every day for the last few weeks, Lee and I have huddled in my office for some time and talked of Declan and his family. The people we work with watch us walk around with tears in our eyes.

On Sunday, Lee went to the visitation and brought me back Declan's prayer card. I carried it around all week and read it over and over again.

When I learned of the "Balloons To Heaven" tribute and birthday celebration I immediately thought that I wanted to participate. But still, I felt mildly uncomfortable and a bit like it was somehow wrong or inappropriate for me to so. Because, again, I don't know this family. Who am I to add my sadness to their burden by mulling aroud their court with tears streaming down my face? But I thought about it over and over and over and finally decided that I just had to do it. So, off I went to Party City (which seems ridiculous) and got my baby blue and gold balloons at lunchtime. I made my balloon tag with Declan's photo and enclosed his prayer card. And, luckily, I have a husband who, without asking, could tell that this was important to me and just helped me get the kids together and jump in the car last night and head to Withers Grove Court.

It was sweet and sad and inspiring to see all those ballons lift way to the sky. I still feel like I don't understand if it was appropriate for me to be there. But I hope it was. We met Declan's daddy, Stan, and it felt right for me, a stranger, to hug him and say how sorry I was for their loss. I don't think its much of an exaggeration to say that I met God's grace last night and it is embodied in that man. It was clear that no matter how I felt about my presence, he and his family took some small measure of strength and solace from all the people, strangers and known, whose lives have been touched by their little boy. Mine certainly has.

Le Cordon Bleu

La Marge

It finally happened. After years of time and money dumped into the crane machine at various Red Robin's across Northern Virgina, Connor hit the jackpot today.

Marge.

Connor has never seen an episode of the Simpsons, though he knows of them. Mainly, from the Simpsons ride a Universal Studios, I suspect. So, he's not really clear on her name an several times yesterday he called her something that sounded like "Lamars". I've converted it to the french--La Marge--in homage to the dames resemblance to Marie Antoinette.

Vive la arcade!

13 Weeks

These are for Nana who hasn't seen her baby grandson in 6 weeks. How big he is getting!

On another note, he's wearing one of Connor's sleepers. When you have a baby 7 years after the first child, there is little likelihood there will be baby clothes to pass down. But two things happened:

1. We gave alot of Connor's things to one person who sends us back bags of baby stuff and once in while an item of Connor's shows up. His red, Ralph Lauren Polo onesie is back for an encore performance via this path.

2. Somewhere in the back of the basement I missed a bin. And its a bin filled with 3-12 month old clothes. Some of Connor's sweetest baby things are in there.

I don't know what it is--something about love and continuity, I guess. But I get such a warm, sweet feeling when Palmer gets to wear one of his brother's things. I almost feel like I'm in a time machine and I'm getting to see Connor as he once was one more time.

I Object!

Connor just ran in the door (its 8:15am) to get ancilliary toys to take back to the Diaz' home where he had a sleepover last night. By now, their house is likely half full of Connor's crap. Anyway, I'm at the computer working on the blog. He sees me and gets an angry face.

"PPPPPP Puker Face? I don't like that mom. It hurt my feelings."

Turns out, now that he can read, I'm in a whole new world!

He read the entry with Danny during the sleepover and he said it made him angry--that he couldn't help it that he vomited.

"Erase it" , he commands.

So, now I am Howard Stern. How much to tell? How much to not tell?

I think my judgment has been good so far. PPPPPPPP Puker Face will remain.
I'm confident that when he's older (or he's gotten some sleep) we'll overcome the objection.

P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P Puker Face

So, exhausted after four straight days of work (to which I am vastly unaccustomed), Palmer and I tumbled off to sleep last night at 7pm. I also had a pretty profound headache and a neck spasm.

Things proceed normally. He wakes around 10pm for some yum-yum. Then, again around 12:30. Then, again around 2:30. This is the way it goes.

At the 2:30 feeding I was distressed that my headache had not abated and very thirsty. I drink water all night long, but that just wasn't doing the job. So, I ventured downstairs for a big cup of Gatorade and an icepack. Back to bed. Pack under the neck. Cup right next to me on the nightstand. Quickly back to sleep.

At around 3:15 I awake to a splashing and trickling sound. I am confused. I feel for the baby in the co-sleeper. He's okay. The sound stops. Then the sound resumes. Now, I am sure that I have somehow toppled the cup. I sit up and say to Bob, "What is that sound?". He clicks on the light.

There, in the darkness, is my big boy, doubled over, vomiting onto the beige carpet. Splashing. Trickling. No moans, no groans, no wretch. Just the horrific sound of the vile bile splashing onto the pile.

He's clearly confused about where he is. We shout, "Run to the bathroom". We shout this three or four times, after which he begins to stumble that direction, making it only halfway before a pause to splash some more onto the 100% wool hand cut area rug.

He makes it to the bathroom just in time for the event to end. Then, the injustice of a chunk of vomit hanging off his nose faces him in the mirror. Poor thing.

Bob scoops up the chunks, sprays the carpet.

Palmer lays smiling through the whole thing and gets a middle of the night dry diaper out of the deal.

Connor goes back to sleep with a bowl next to his bed.

I feed the baby again and we tumble back to sleep together as I realize that my head and neck are now fine. Replaced by the drama of parenthood.

Back To Work

Today was the official day. We were only there for two hours. We both did fine. When I picked him up he was swaddled, on the floor enjoying a toy, and smiling.
Ahhhh.

Hey La, Hey La--My Girlfriend's Back

So, awhile ago, like 18 months ago, I wrote this.

But, I'm happy to report, that all has been made Wright and they have returned from the land of the German stink faces. I couldn't be happier. Really. I missed them and I missed her. I can't wait to have them all back in our lives.

Savannah

So, for the ride home from Orlando, we decided to break the drive up into three parts instead of two. This was done in order that we remain in full control of our sanity should Palmer cry alot. That didn't happen--he was an angel. But it gave us a fun, late night in Savannah, Georgia.

Bob and I have been to Savannah twice before. Both visits were during vacations on nearby Hilton Head island. But we had not been here in about 10 years (we think) and it has changed alot. It used to be that when you looked across the river from the Savannah waterfront all you saw was a green, reedy island. Now, you see this. It looks spectacular. The Westin was sold out for the whole weekend (we drove through on a Friday) . But that turned out to be a blessing because we stayed at the Marriott on the Savannah side and were able to walk right out onto the waterfront and Connor got a taste of a very old, very cool town. None of our pictures from outside are useful because it was so humid that the lens was constantly fogged. Typical for the subtropics in July!

To get a quick, full bite of Savannah we decided to have dinner at The Pirate's House. And to top that off, we were seated in the portion of the house (read the website about how many rooms/buildings there are) that is accepted to be the oldest standing building in Georgia. Called the "Herb House" it was the gardner's home for the first planted garden in Georgia by the colonists who hoped to grow grapes for wine (FAILED) and mulberry trees for silkworms (FAILED). They did succeed, you'll be shocked to hear, in growing cotton and peaches, however.

The evening was made all the more fun and interesting by our waiter, Elijah, who regaled us with stories of the building's haunted inhabitants. Connor was delightfully freaked out. And when Elijah told him he could perhaps capture a view of a haunted spirit by camera the game was on. Elijah helped Connor take about 30 pics of a specific hallway that he said is the main traffic area for apparitions and he told us to look at the images (taken through a window from another room) very carefully once we downloaded them. We did so--and lo and behold Connor believes he sees something in this photo that doesn't make sense--an apparitional cigar. What do you think?

Shot Of The Day

Annual Crape Shot

The trees look great. The boy is a filthy mess. But I wanted honest representation this year.

We Get On Swimmingly

Our trip to Florida was an adventure for a 9-10 week old that involved his first forays into the whole pool and swimming experience. Okay, dipping experience. Thankfully, if the water isn't chilly, he likes it!



This is his first dip, all decked out in sun protection with an awning.



This is at Discovery Cove where we found a grotto and water that was as warm as a pot of soup. Gross for me, but he loved it and took an entire nap floating in my hands.



And this is by the end of the week when the sun protection fell by the wayside because we found shade or swam late in the day. My baby can rock the Man-kini!

Shot Of The Day