tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5160260725824027012024-03-18T23:04:56.537-05:00the Light at the end of the tunnelAge: 2stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-74956817443035813192011-02-16T13:49:00.007-06:002011-02-16T14:05:07.345-06:00Meat Kite!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Ok, people, shit's about to get rrrreal. In the last couple of weeks Malcolm's speech has come online. All that previously incoherent babble has suddenly clicked in to coherency and I, for one, am completely and utterly bowled over by it. So if you don't want to read a chronicle of how awesome I think my kid is, ramble on my friend. But I've decided to try to use this blog more to document his progression towards grownupness. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Case in point: W</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">e took the kite out on Sunday and since then Mal's been repeating "high kite" "high kite" over and over again. So in the car this morning when he said "high kite" I started to tell him about how the kite festival is coming soon. I said, "remember how many kites were in the air at the festival last year?" He said "two?" and I said, "no, more than two." He said "fee?" and I said "no, more than three." Then he grinned and said "meatball?" I laughed and said "no, more than meatball!" Then he started repeating "meat kite, meat kite!" I said, but you can't have a meat kite, the birds will eat it! It didn't make a difference to him - what can I say, the boy wants a meat kite.</span></span></div>pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10664065835784975499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-8967691394863930532011-02-14T16:05:00.002-06:002011-02-14T16:11:10.353-06:00Thank you!Malcolm thanked me this morning for his plate of cantaloupe and blueberries, completely unprompted. I'd brought it over to him and started to walk away and I hear this cute little "thank you" from behind me. Considering we haven't really been modeling pleases and thank yous very consistently we were very impressed. He just gets awesomer and awesomer.pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10664065835784975499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-11229757866678446942010-08-12T13:43:00.004-05:002010-08-12T14:01:44.506-05:00shit i'm learning as a parent pt. 1how well your child sleeps through the night, naps, breastfeeds, eats, whatever has very little to nothing to do with what you've done as a parent and has everything to do with what kind of child you got. if your kid sleeps through the night at 3 months old (like mine did) it's because he allowed it to be so. there was very little that we did to make that happen: we put him to sleep in his crib and slowly but surely he woke up less and less throughout the night until suddenly he'd slept all the way through. we were lucky, that's all. my point is, don't beat yourself up if you've tried but your kid refuses to do it, whatever it is. you did not fail. recognize who your child is, accept the circumstances and go with the flow. at the same time, if your child does sleep and eat well don't go around patting yourself on the back like you're some wizard at parenting. just count your lucky stars. and above all else keep this in mind: it can all change at any time.<div><br /></div><div>stay tuned for: comparing your child to others is an evil, evil trap.</div>pamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10664065835784975499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-80300997907816390842010-04-22T11:55:00.006-05:002010-04-22T12:46:38.532-05:00An Open Letter to Steve Jobs<div><br /></div>Dear Steve,<div><br /></div><div>I hope it's cool that I call you Steve and not Mr. Jobs. See, I'm Stephen and chances are you're either Stephen or Steven yourself. That being the case, we more or less have the same name (I don't care if you're "ph" or "v" though everyone knows "ph" came first) and so we're already closer than random strangers, even though we are in fact random strangers. But I digress, and I haven't even begun, so let's move on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Steve, here's the deal: anybody who cares and/or is any kind of tech geek (what's up my brothers & sisters!) knows that the 4th gen iPhone is coming. Whether that dude leaving it in the German-themed brew haus was a genuine epic fail or a full-on publicity stunt doesn't matter (my money's on the latter), we know it's coming. (If you're not Steve Jobs and don't know what I'm talking about, please use the Google.) There's an established track record of a new phone coming out each summer since the 1st gen came out. And AT&T has apparently suspended employee vacations for June, which it did for the last 2 iPhone model releases. </div><div><br /></div><div>See, the thing is we've got this kid. We'll call him Malcolm, because that's his name. Malcolm likes shiny, flashy things. He likes remote controls and buttons on the dvd player and to turn on the stereo receiver and crank up the volume more than it needs to be. He's very much his father's son, except for that deal with the volume--that's all mom. As you might have already surmised, he's a big fan of the iPhone. Hee-yuge fan. He likes it so much that he hates it when we don't let him play with one. How much does he hate it?</div><div><br /></div><div>This much:</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvq12qSFlwLebw6wBWEoz-sOmLiynp-gQPQW9wCa61Y_6Y8x_mfbF4B8PaMIvu5z3hE1er6u0ZulFC0IvUD0d6dLRvTAuZhwXs2keZGmd4DnPxFlSPIeKnxA-_LEKpfZB_voUNhqceHY/s1600/IMG_0551.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOvq12qSFlwLebw6wBWEoz-sOmLiynp-gQPQW9wCa61Y_6Y8x_mfbF4B8PaMIvu5z3hE1er6u0ZulFC0IvUD0d6dLRvTAuZhwXs2keZGmd4DnPxFlSPIeKnxA-_LEKpfZB_voUNhqceHY/s400/IMG_0551.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463010444268620738" /></a><br /><br /><div>That's the Mrs.' phone and that just happened when she tried to get the boy to play with the phone on the carpet and not over the tiles just inside the front door. The same tiles that caused similar, but way lesser, damage to my iPhone. He got mad and threw the phone down. And by the way, the damage to the phone in the picture is a whole lot worse. You just can't see it so well because the photo was taken with an iPhone (and 2 overhead lights!). That 5 mp camera (with flash!)... I can't wait... which, again, is my point. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why the waiting game? Let's push things forward. Help an Apple household out. You've got us, ok, we're hooked. I've never used a PC in my life (and never will) unless I have to get something off somebody else's computer or had to do something on my parents' computers, both of whom I've converted to Mac users. We have 2 iPods, 2 MacBooks, 2 iPhones and we'll probably get an iPad at some point in the future. If you ever release an integrated tv/computer and/or a la carte tv channel ordering, we're gonna be all over those too. But right now, all that really matters is the phone, yo.</div><div><br /></div><div>And just so you don't think we're total dolts, when we first got our phones back in 9/08, we had covers, sleeves, phone condoms, whatever you want to call them. But after a while we each decided, on our own, to go commando (i.e. naked). Mine got dust caught under the face screen and the back got scratched whenever I'd take it off to clean the face. Pam's kept catching on the fabric in her purse or pockets. It just got to be too much for us. I know, I know... look at the situation we're in now. In our defense though, Malcolm is pretty strong. Maybe a case would have saved my phone because Malcolm was sitting when he dropped mine, but I don't think it would have done much damage control for Pam's because the boy threw it pretty hard. Regardless, they're both cased now, though it's really just to keep the glass from breaking any more and/or slicing our fingers. We know we could have prevented or at least lessened the damage if we'd had some protection, but we didn't so we know we're at fault here, but still, there's no reason to wait any longer.</div><div><br /></div><div>So look, we're eligible for the discounted rate on new phones in May. (Our AT&T contract is up in September & we'd love to switch carriers--Pam can barely make a phone call in the house, and like I said, you've got us--so feel free to give it to Verizon sooner rather than later, too.) I know you're busy working the magic and everything but if you could find it in your heart to do not just what's right, but what's necessary, and just go on and release the 4th gen phone, er, excuse me, iPhone, that would be really, really sweet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Best,</div><div>Stephen Light</div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-48052148499553266332010-03-07T15:20:00.009-06:002010-03-16T10:11:10.160-05:00The Boys<div>This is not a post about Jerry Jones' football team.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is a post about Malcolm's testicles.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the end of January, we took him to the doctor for a wellness check and to get a couple of shots. The doc noticed that his boys were not residing where they should be, but were in fact back up in the body cavity. Previously, they had been down in the sac. </div><div><br /></div><div>As this had been mutually agreed upon between Pam and myself to be "my department," I felt bad for not coming thru for the boy. In my defense though, I thought they were in their home and the fact that it looked small was due to the fact that his balls were small. And it's not like any dude wants to be poked and prodded down there if they don't have to be. Nevertheless, gutterball for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The doc, <a href="http://www.centralfamily.com/practitioners/Elliot%20Trester/elliot_trester.html">Dr. Trester</a>, wasn't super concerned, or at least didn't appear to be. He said it did happen plenty. All the same, he referred us to a pediatric urologist to get a specialist's diagnosis. Dr. Cortez is apparently a popular guy because his next available appointment was over a month away, in the first week of March. (No link b/c the lame website only has 1 url.)</div><div><br /></div><div>So for a month and some change, we're nervous. Every single time we change a diaper, we look and feel, and they're still up. Not good. And it begins to seem like maybe Malcolm has noticed too. From the time he became aware of his body parts and his surroundings, he would often reach down and grab his package when exposed on the changing table. But now, it was seeming like it was happening more. At the beginning of the Month of Waiting, I wrote it off to every male's belief that the penis is generally awesome and none of us would want to be without one, so it's only natural to check and make sure it's there--"Yup, still there. Still awesome." Plus, at his age, he's gotta be wondering what this thing does. But then I too sensed it was happening more, and it was coupled with an increasing restlessness when getting his diaper changed. Our anxiety increased to dull roar level and we began to hope surgery wouldn't be needed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Two days before the appointment, Pam gets a robocall from Dr. Cortez' office. It talks about a letter of referral being needed from the attending physician. A call to Dr. Trester's office gets one sent to us, though they assured Pam they had already sent one to Dr. Cortez. Parental nerves and anxiety are not helped when it says "I appreciate your taking a look at Malcolm to see what you think about surgery on him."</div><div><br /></div><div>Appointment day arrives. We get there 15 minutes early, as requested, to do paperwork. Then we wait. There's no one else in the waiting room so Malcolm is able to run around. He smiles and laughs at the receptionists. He overturns plastic toddler chairs. He looks at the fish in their aquarium. We watch him and exchange glances filled with trepidation too often. 20 minutes after the scheduled time we get called back and they weigh and measure Malcolm. Then they deposit us in an exam room. We wait some more. Too long. The boy is hungry and overdue for his nap.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, an hour and ten minutes after our appointment time the doctor enters. There is small talk. He has a 25 year medical school reunion coming up. I don't know if he can read on our faces that we don't care or if he is going thru the motions because that's what he does.</div><div><br /></div><div>At long last, we pants Mal. Lo and behold the jewels are residing within their case. It's as if they knew they were getting inspected and wanted everything to be just right. Dr. Cortez isn't surprised. </div><div><br /></div><div>"They go up, they go down. They're in, they hang out. That's what they do. Have them checked every year for the next few years. Dr. Trester can do it or you can bring him back to see me."</div><div><br /></div><div>When we leave and discover that this office consultation just cost $317, we know that we won't be coming back unless it's a necessity. The walk to the car is almost like bouncing on air. There is no longer a huge weight on our backs, no anxiety and best of all, no need for surgery. The boy's boys are a-ok.</div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-17687067448100391032010-03-06T22:16:00.002-06:002010-03-16T13:49:05.977-05:00In the park behind Central Market<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsgKVV-3eIOSH5S7ZJKrCN77tIReaYKEPFyjNZ6X7vw0XjifJuJR4cuUdBjEpsZZcMMoFGuCTDWh4SjJmhqUaN_049Xq0J73D2VuFE96hHnYwhwSYjYGxl4rttyUcetyL5js-dceW7Tbw/s1600-h/photo-782206.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsgKVV-3eIOSH5S7ZJKrCN77tIReaYKEPFyjNZ6X7vw0XjifJuJR4cuUdBjEpsZZcMMoFGuCTDWh4SjJmhqUaN_049Xq0J73D2VuFE96hHnYwhwSYjYGxl4rttyUcetyL5js-dceW7Tbw/s320/photo-782206.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445741002036526578" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEVdosZ9KUGXQqcK69rbLRl-SKtZW5NF7l_yxcgHvHd1EvxLLJav1NmJhiQtllyHtvP23oyB_trl1h5Um0fOTXAUstV3mFPR_PZst2ccjURs1p6cRC29ffLiIBR5DyNjF_hAs8g98p48/s1600-h/photo+2-784728.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHEVdosZ9KUGXQqcK69rbLRl-SKtZW5NF7l_yxcgHvHd1EvxLLJav1NmJhiQtllyHtvP23oyB_trl1h5Um0fOTXAUstV3mFPR_PZst2ccjURs1p6cRC29ffLiIBR5DyNjF_hAs8g98p48/s320/photo+2-784728.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445741010443257970" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo">PS. These pictures are among my favorites of the boy. In the first one, the look on his face alone could tell the story but I also dig the blurriness of motion and his round belly. The second one is all about the sense of exploration.</p>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-77754811659050631122009-12-20T11:05:00.010-06:002009-12-20T15:09:31.968-06:00Malcolm at the LapYesterday Malcolm had his first go at a certain rite of passage. It went about how we expected. He was handed to an older white male in a uniform. This man performs but one task for certain parts of the world: to bring toys and joy to children. <div><br /></div><div>There was not much joy in Malcolmville yesterday...</div><div><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsilowSrhahM-sdenEl8nWZol5S_R6NpX6_n8otePoDnF6m-TL2p4AtyMP9CupXT9J-F3pByfWaP4_nY8NSxdkKUoQ4mr7XyoE_8_aYh-nayHh_feUfFr0aE1UUzdkJ7nG6Jex7EcjCQ/s1600-h/P1020889.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsilowSrhahM-sdenEl8nWZol5S_R6NpX6_n8otePoDnF6m-TL2p4AtyMP9CupXT9J-F3pByfWaP4_nY8NSxdkKUoQ4mr7XyoE_8_aYh-nayHh_feUfFr0aE1UUzdkJ7nG6Jex7EcjCQ/s400/P1020889.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417374493635870498" /></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hjoUBuiUiF-wIPE6w16_eZmleW6Zkn4epbOlCvtCxQbbdP2oAREbKsdTqbG7JG_p2RsJa7e9WyqZvSRxUs6e5oE7rr2MhyphenhyphenOnU3DVuRm44oJOsD4dwuDzOy5kMXnAqGZuMgJrkxFKsXw/s1600-h/P1020890.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-hjoUBuiUiF-wIPE6w16_eZmleW6Zkn4epbOlCvtCxQbbdP2oAREbKsdTqbG7JG_p2RsJa7e9WyqZvSRxUs6e5oE7rr2MhyphenhyphenOnU3DVuRm44oJOsD4dwuDzOy5kMXnAqGZuMgJrkxFKsXw/s400/P1020890.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417374916455751650" /></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually we were needed to intervene and return the events to some sense of normalcy.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwf0LfaZIuGDgw4fiqntOtkykpKCTJBJBp8D5m3MgipJDtXNjAWGQRm2twNKCAzmFo3mdcIVW4A6r7hpLIbM23AlKIhmtJ_Co7VWVTj2pG-75t25FtXwrPev40-3QzH0n3jVADOpfle-I/s1600-h/P1020891.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwf0LfaZIuGDgw4fiqntOtkykpKCTJBJBp8D5m3MgipJDtXNjAWGQRm2twNKCAzmFo3mdcIVW4A6r7hpLIbM23AlKIhmtJ_Co7VWVTj2pG-75t25FtXwrPev40-3QzH0n3jVADOpfle-I/s400/P1020891.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417373705456806562" /></a></div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-91264749307231114282009-12-15T18:20:00.002-06:002009-12-15T18:29:35.116-06:00SPOOOOON!Malcolm fed himself with a spoon tonight. It was pretty damn cool and pretty damn messy but he totally acheived. On the menu was butternut squash and some other non-spoon-requiring items.<div><br /></div><div>Also, he can now stand up on his own from a sitting position. It's on, people, totally on.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TbDlMlr5YrI&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TbDlMlr5YrI&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KLOLM4fmhBs&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KLOLM4fmhBs&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-15654255573764809092009-11-24T13:05:00.001-06:002009-11-24T13:20:08.139-06:00JC Penney's Catalog circa 1985<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBHsBqqbh3cQPy60V7SQb2iFyY7884haoVjcCpfpgRbvQBNNauIomwW5-Yp2eUaZxl7Yiwq4LlepAS-ueInQ6d0X7vQmGSyUWHrNTG0PRyxfz2IszGbDKEjDfpPbjNp5tCG14eEoASn0/s1600/IMG_0338.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBHsBqqbh3cQPy60V7SQb2iFyY7884haoVjcCpfpgRbvQBNNauIomwW5-Yp2eUaZxl7Yiwq4LlepAS-ueInQ6d0X7vQmGSyUWHrNTG0PRyxfz2IszGbDKEjDfpPbjNp5tCG14eEoASn0/s400/IMG_0338.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407748806806313986" /></a>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-66520931429329639592009-11-23T09:16:00.007-06:002009-11-24T10:20:56.872-06:00Names, Signs, Smells, Walking & LaughingFor years Pam and I have called each other "Momma" and "Daddy." We started because we thought it was funny how couples who were married a long time always seemed to stop calling each other by name. My grandparents did at least. And it was kind of ironic because we were young, and at that time, not even married. Whenver we used them, it had to be with a country accent because that was the only way it worked. Me, I chose to channel Elvis, because you can never go wrong with the King.<div><br /></div><div>Now The Boy is here and the whole "Momma" and "Daddy" thing has taken a new turn. And I understand why people probably stopped using each other's actual names. When talking to The Boy, pronoun usage has really dropped way off. And so has the first person. We are full-on rocking the self-referencing third person. To sit here and think and write about it really bugs me, but in the moment it just can't be helped. Mainly, I think we do it because we're trying to help get him talking. Nobody wants to hear a baby say "I" back to you. Everybody wants "Mama" or "Dada." We certainly do.</div><div><br /></div><div>We've been using some basic sign language with Malcolm. It's taken several months but seems like it is beginning to pay off. He hasn't used any of the signs unsolicited by himself, but he does use a couple when we use them and say the word so I think it's only a matter of time. He knows "milk" (squeeze the hand like milking a cow) and "all done" (brush hands together like wiping off crumbs (not the true sign, I Stephen-ized it).</div><div><br /></div><div>Fun fact: Malcolm ate enough blueberries this week that we smelled blueberry when we changed his diaper. </div><div><br /></div><div>We're flying to San Diego on Wednesday to stay with our friends Kelley & Casey for Thanksgiving. And we'll also get to hang out with our friend Kyrsten. She's got a little girl, Annika, who's a few months older than Malcolm. We'll be 4 blocks from the beach and once the turkey (2 ways) dinner has been digested (hopefully by Friday) we'll hit the zoo. We've been looking forward to it for some time. The only thing to get past is the flight out there. Malcolm's a pretty happy little guy but he hasn't been trapped in a place filled with lots of people yet. So we're curious to see what happens. If we're lucky, we won't be the people on the plane hated by the rest of the people.</div><div><br /></div><div>Since early October, Pam's been saying that Malcolm will be walking by himself thru the airports. Well, here comes trouble:</div><div><br /></div><object width="660" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/15_Sb6IyMWw&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&hd=1&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/15_Sb6IyMWw&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="405"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>(Now in HD goodness.)</div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-50322730656653597052009-10-30T15:45:00.004-05:002009-10-30T15:54:58.584-05:00Getting Bipedalicious<div><br /></div><object width="660" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/z2x_BOcDmcM&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/z2x_BOcDmcM&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="405"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="660" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tx1hVchlCjE&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&hd=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tx1hVchlCjE&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&hd=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="405"></embed></object>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-90226044621430258522009-10-26T09:38:00.002-05:002009-10-26T09:41:57.032-05:00Iron-On WinnersThanks to everyone who voted. The top 3 vote-getters were:<div><br /></div><div>B/W Radiohead</div><div>Little Lebowski Urban Achievers</div><div>Hall & Oates</div><div><br /></div><div>Not far behind, and therefore getting put on the next blank shirt of his I come across, were:</div><div><br /></div><div>Lone Star</div><div>Beer Chang</div><div>Abide</div><div><br /></div><div>J.C. Penney catalog-type photos coming soon...</div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-49299250670866105202009-10-23T11:12:00.003-05:002009-10-23T14:07:09.481-05:00RandomnessA few random things...<div><br /></div><div>Malcolm got over his ear infection pretty easily. We're grateful because that isn't always the case. Shout-out of thanks to <a href="http://www.texasfp.com">Dr. Marty Molina</a> for the help.</div><div><br /></div><div>He now has 7 teeth that have poked thru--4 up top and 3 on the bottom. They often pop out in pairs so eyes are peeled (I hate that expression) for #8.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm sorry but I can't remember whom it was that bought us a subscription to Parenting magazine. Thanks for that. There's been some helpful articles in several issues. </div><div><br /></div><div>But... there is something about it that really pisses me off. </div><div><br /></div><div>The magazine isn't geared towards parents, it's written for mothers. There are pages about the baby's health and then the mom's health. Ones with baby toys and mommy toys. And more than one article about what to do when your husband doesn't do this or that (these often contain a "men... what are you gonna do" vibe). I understand that the way things have been it is generally the woman that is the primary caregiver to infants. When only 1 of us has breasts that produce milk, it's just going to happen that way. And beyond that, child-rearing has been for centuries seen as "woman's work." The man goes out and earns the living and the woman takes care of things back home. But that's all changing. In my circle of friends, there are quite a few dads, and all of them are pretty actively involved in raising their kids, even the infants. So yeah, maybe Parenting is just marketing to the people who will buy their magazine; there are Dad-centric websites but I haven't noticed any Dad mags. But I'm a parent too (damn it!) and if you're not going to have anything in your publication aimed at the dad, then you should call yourself Mothering.</div><div><br /></div><div>Along those lines, I also realized I don't want to be called Mr. Mom because I take care of the boy when I'm not working. It's a demeaning term for an outdated (what's up 1980s?) way of thinking. I'm the Dad, ya see? Daddy-o, El Dadarino if you're not into the whole brevity thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>I know I posted it to Facebook, but if you missed it there, he's starting to stand up on his own and has taken a few steps on his own here and there. The first time he took a couple of steps on his own he knew he had done something special. He got very excited, yelling and shaking his fists with a big smile.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, any tips on this problem would be greatly appreciated. Usually when one of us is home alone by ourself with the boy we'll use the restroom with the door open. He's not cut off from us and we can at least hear what he's doing. But now that he's getting all mobile, he's coming right up to the toilet while I'm standing there peeing. I try to block him out with my legs as best I can and still hit my target, but he's a wily one and now knows to try and outflank me. And he's reached down into the bowl once and wet his hands. Thankfully, the water at the time was pure. And I'd rather not sit if I don't have to.</div><div><br /></div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-11404283004624082292009-10-22T09:21:00.001-05:002009-10-22T09:54:37.476-05:00Malcolm needs your votes!We're making Malcolm some iron-on onesies. I found a few images on the interwebs but we currently only have 3 onesies. Check out the images and note your top choice in the comments. We'll take the top 3 and make Malcolm even more awesome this winter.<div><br /></div><div>2 versions of the Radiohead bear to choose from. Pam likes the one with the eyes but I like the plain one.</div><div><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggN5xEowZeGFruLCo6nR8IHmv6JvSIOowMw4Rg_RgfFu94VR-qyXA5ZnkZ4BH8uTrtF9oGlOjfeoOhXkd1Q8WN3EUpixV664BQ-s0eX66iyO0LVC6dTOfXdw6HODlnEfn-U5_uuuuBwU8/s1600-h/radiohead%2520bear-726877.png"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggN5xEowZeGFruLCo6nR8IHmv6JvSIOowMw4Rg_RgfFu94VR-qyXA5ZnkZ4BH8uTrtF9oGlOjfeoOhXkd1Q8WN3EUpixV664BQ-s0eX66iyO0LVC6dTOfXdw6HODlnEfn-U5_uuuuBwU8/s320/radiohead%2520bear-726877.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429514799889506" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkV6HO0m0mYUyNGVNrURrQq_N1DOrgyM2gQg9_akCbD2svh7BkoorVauBsKnFHCVcLoI3BULplTcW7OLk2IbxGJskzHC57M2LuQazGeMv4HHvpSeoeigGs0uLsEPmvNbFwgv_q3BAGwg/s1600-h/Radiohead_bear-728286.png"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixkV6HO0m0mYUyNGVNrURrQq_N1DOrgyM2gQg9_akCbD2svh7BkoorVauBsKnFHCVcLoI3BULplTcW7OLk2IbxGJskzHC57M2LuQazGeMv4HHvpSeoeigGs0uLsEPmvNbFwgv_q3BAGwg/s320/Radiohead_bear-728286.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429524175379426" /></a></p><br />It's the Reagle Beagle from Three's Company!<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRaAR5ICuPu-8RzmA2s1XAOOy4cDCDDrulA0vDqQMoKmONOqDkcwAvXArEd287N6gcoO-gt8bUyogrw2uokz34PHE6q8xlpZwKQCAW1hfNxc1r_nfByuIwMjjaeZCWTlxwohF_CX6HTQ/s1600-h/regalbeagle-729277.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRaAR5ICuPu-8RzmA2s1XAOOy4cDCDDrulA0vDqQMoKmONOqDkcwAvXArEd287N6gcoO-gt8bUyogrw2uokz34PHE6q8xlpZwKQCAW1hfNxc1r_nfByuIwMjjaeZCWTlxwohF_CX6HTQ/s320/regalbeagle-729277.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429526065002610" /></a></p><br />BoingBoing is an awesome blog I read.<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLlPOTeSzLeCCoLXw_eAJTxHixJb4pyZqknkJTHSG7g7g_Y4pDVlO2wErlsFSg9nh_j-0kj1e2sPYcHAz7X8BkjF9JpsoTr0GAR-jmYM7ex8TcRfWnLMrJH0E90mTFh6v-0BlXvsu2NE/s1600-h/logo-730672.png"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLlPOTeSzLeCCoLXw_eAJTxHixJb4pyZqknkJTHSG7g7g_Y4pDVlO2wErlsFSg9nh_j-0kj1e2sPYcHAz7X8BkjF9JpsoTr0GAR-jmYM7ex8TcRfWnLMrJH0E90mTFh6v-0BlXvsu2NE/s320/logo-730672.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429533109461090" /></a></p><br />Hall & Oates!!<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8R5u1A-qH2j3O7khSJLWoXOMWm2aUtk4hFu3BD9VIXuKLLOLhWQX5PYfxghHsWTnAKzZxw1wy65LVE2rH55K8IL7FAR9v-UQbsxIhpfWAgyptn6EclypoohtnEVDSJkqpn8E7EWYMb8/s1600-h/Hall_and_Oates-731821.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8R5u1A-qH2j3O7khSJLWoXOMWm2aUtk4hFu3BD9VIXuKLLOLhWQX5PYfxghHsWTnAKzZxw1wy65LVE2rH55K8IL7FAR9v-UQbsxIhpfWAgyptn6EclypoohtnEVDSJkqpn8E7EWYMb8/s320/Hall_and_Oates-731821.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429534537812930" /></a></p><br />One of Malcolm's favorite toys is a John Deere tractor.<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWrysyRL015mPI1IKxWvl-QM8td3150lVQXU-VSHX5qw_kNyPyfb0cTJkfTaK8WMXbTl4-lxE1wTU3AnODT-iCUskzTUFS9zevIC9DYS-AX34vsdAzkZqK-0uVAythvK0YeBD9kI61wk/s1600-h/0907dp_07_z+john_deere+2000_logo-732999.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsWrysyRL015mPI1IKxWvl-QM8td3150lVQXU-VSHX5qw_kNyPyfb0cTJkfTaK8WMXbTl4-lxE1wTU3AnODT-iCUskzTUFS9zevIC9DYS-AX34vsdAzkZqK-0uVAythvK0YeBD9kI61wk/s320/0907dp_07_z+john_deere+2000_logo-732999.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429544827207730" /></a></p><br />Some Big Lebowski-themed ideas:<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-zv3oqiDuvHKsSZ8AU7n2xDtjAeCkQ2qKI8cgesUSwDAH2i_jvT44D3j2bi02JRMYrOs0a9vdcfmfG3TMl6A9gUpfIM9ixX_ElRJq1rBQRkupMhiGh2unpy5tQioaJH0A_nwO875Nko/s1600-h/15423570_400x400-734069.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-zv3oqiDuvHKsSZ8AU7n2xDtjAeCkQ2qKI8cgesUSwDAH2i_jvT44D3j2bi02JRMYrOs0a9vdcfmfG3TMl6A9gUpfIM9ixX_ElRJq1rBQRkupMhiGh2unpy5tQioaJH0A_nwO875Nko/s320/15423570_400x400-734069.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429547946540274" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXsypTWlecg0-YszFI7lYSQdg0aAUlvM-wW-reX8zqVPw2WWHlthmZ-imUx9ew7Su7D0ijmCwZvhkeeL7bvHqaP13v644kku6bMHGJMOtuAsVT2G8WV_kMubj7FmnWCESS5wDK7Ki5lY/s1600-h/abide-734996.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXsypTWlecg0-YszFI7lYSQdg0aAUlvM-wW-reX8zqVPw2WWHlthmZ-imUx9ew7Su7D0ijmCwZvhkeeL7bvHqaP13v644kku6bMHGJMOtuAsVT2G8WV_kMubj7FmnWCESS5wDK7Ki5lY/s320/abide-734996.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429551576261090" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbSGt9W6c16kbbw-zkfzhbv_IlmOt4qkfN1fJ0Sf0Wn3F_x1WOZHJM4jhdppVeqSNu78nyYoBvKnYPCco6kd5ir4kmIP5n7p-0Ou2p-yQM5eqOfRpZlD9bZBV4F25dHd9VC1qrui_HZU/s1600-h/ralphs-logo1-736897.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQbSGt9W6c16kbbw-zkfzhbv_IlmOt4qkfN1fJ0Sf0Wn3F_x1WOZHJM4jhdppVeqSNu78nyYoBvKnYPCco6kd5ir4kmIP5n7p-0Ou2p-yQM5eqOfRpZlD9bZBV4F25dHd9VC1qrui_HZU/s320/ralphs-logo1-736897.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429555689224706" /></a></p><br />Beasties!<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZid2Lq5r5hS04TCFS1hgEvHvMhECLTYBqoIojS84lR9pBgTvgazztRsaG5yjOmIi9t8-jGEWESF9uHN84qGqh2zVHFha4fJtjIh8OIeWRGhXg-b13kJRQ2jMY2BCld7jGy8DIKEa0HOo/s1600-h/beastie-boys-check-your-head-album-cover-738179.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZid2Lq5r5hS04TCFS1hgEvHvMhECLTYBqoIojS84lR9pBgTvgazztRsaG5yjOmIi9t8-jGEWESF9uHN84qGqh2zVHFha4fJtjIh8OIeWRGhXg-b13kJRQ2jMY2BCld7jGy8DIKEa0HOo/s320/beastie-boys-check-your-head-album-cover-738179.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429567497400130" /></a></p><br />Malcolm likes elephants and we liked this beer in Thailand.<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2uSiZO96s50Jxtori2g8Z2wJGslFDz6SU16h2di2GS5gokHeAlF8O8oy8qAhhkgi9bypcMWIlKlNQfzSxdT6fKjLBmoYP80mSuTmrY1Zc0Hg-FqyrNqWVjWRBs03nqLzi11r0yEcggQ/s1600-h/chang-739380.bmp"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2uSiZO96s50Jxtori2g8Z2wJGslFDz6SU16h2di2GS5gokHeAlF8O8oy8qAhhkgi9bypcMWIlKlNQfzSxdT6fKjLBmoYP80mSuTmrY1Zc0Hg-FqyrNqWVjWRBs03nqLzi11r0yEcggQ/s320/chang-739380.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429571352617570" /></a></p><br />I'm not going to say anything because of the 1st rule.<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzfV7TrBtH3XXW09GmSN4HfUriy4xhzH6NYVoVPOoDJl9Yfs3KGni9Xf_Mzi-wacTUFVVZycAqYMf-4O_UjKh1GLlXI0yfJz0xT1zm0XSMA7euqnq3AzPXXE2bJo95CPkkb3EOjZqCvk/s1600-h/FightClub-740210.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimzfV7TrBtH3XXW09GmSN4HfUriy4xhzH6NYVoVPOoDJl9Yfs3KGni9Xf_Mzi-wacTUFVVZycAqYMf-4O_UjKh1GLlXI0yfJz0xT1zm0XSMA7euqnq3AzPXXE2bJo95CPkkb3EOjZqCvk/s320/FightClub-740210.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429574874211426" /></a></p><br />No explanation needed.<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMkw2qqsxhg-cuS-WvDAf8PjfB37GTeaDoysclmas-5NzC8zDxTFrr4PL02Pa8Ev1EaxhrsCgH9NOBgo98eR2-SZHG59d5jpdG3EdG4HEezsyBIr4ZLjdnDKdU-5b3O1JrYdmyJ_p0Hw/s1600-h/Lone+Star+New.JPG-741373.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvMkw2qqsxhg-cuS-WvDAf8PjfB37GTeaDoysclmas-5NzC8zDxTFrr4PL02Pa8Ev1EaxhrsCgH9NOBgo98eR2-SZHG59d5jpdG3EdG4HEezsyBIr4ZLjdnDKdU-5b3O1JrYdmyJ_p0Hw/s320/Lone+Star+New.JPG-741373.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429580214347378" /></a></p><br />If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...<br /><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UIGIsjDzUVZ_n7b3BheyC7bPkjWjbN2MLVr2DfXdfng-l0zQ7gLYdzArFGEWZ7DpPi00YQSQvZ6ZydMmqWBx0lymHabEdwNu0LhhDkXjw7_0nOIPeG5UNXSUTgBmZMYkiZ6zONt5Jgo/s1600-h/PATCH_a-team-743107.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UIGIsjDzUVZ_n7b3BheyC7bPkjWjbN2MLVr2DfXdfng-l0zQ7gLYdzArFGEWZ7DpPi00YQSQvZ6ZydMmqWBx0lymHabEdwNu0LhhDkXjw7_0nOIPeG5UNXSUTgBmZMYkiZ6zONt5Jgo/s320/PATCH_a-team-743107.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395429586720019506" /></a></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAxVE-5-kuPHw_VOUP-ppb8yluBudFr8EGPbOMjEMbvSD5LXqF6c70kbQDoiD8rbFtBEQfDyPKXSRrz3umaUTNk27Xnwd9jvzyy-08jW0A0ZzdIfd4W29WLA6bNOhhtBTPUfvQ8I0aX34/s1600-h/radiohead%2520bear.png"></a></div></span>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-6955189458651363222009-09-27T22:20:00.003-05:002009-09-27T23:23:04.522-05:00We had a good runIt took about 9 months and 3 weeks but a day I was dreading finally happened. Malcolm got sick.<div><br /></div><div>An ear infection to be exact. Or ears infection because he's got it in both ears, the left being worse than the right. It's not good but it seems like it could be worse. As long as he's not lying down, he's pretty normal other than a runny nose. He's laughing and playing and crawling around and putting his hand in the cat's* water bowl, just like any other day. It's just when he lies down that it really seems to hurt. He's not taking his naps and hasn't been sleeping well or much at night. (This started yesterday, Saturday, morning.) That, coupled with Pam having a pretty bad allergy attack at the same time has not made for an awesome weekend. Meanwhile, I'm gearing up for the Austin City Limits festival and trying not to catch anything.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, we remembered, or actually got reminded via the virtual mistress known as Facebook, that we have a doctor friend with a family practice. A couple of phone calls and a drive out 2222 for verification that it was indeed an ear infection and we got a prescription for some meds. Fingers are crossed that it will work because Malcolm's girlfriend, Talia, is on her 3rd set of antibiotics and nothing has worked. She's getting herself chiropractically adjusted tomorrow and hopefully that will do the trick for her.</div><div><br /></div><div>The worst thing is when he's crying and you know it's because he's in pain and there isn't anything you can do to easily relieve it. Trying to suck the snot out of his stopped-up nose with one of <a href="http://alexandranow.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/nasalaspirator.jpg">these</a> helps but is so not fun for the little guy. Seriously, the sound of him yelling and the tears running down his face is damn near the worst thing ever. Sometimes when he's coming down from a big cry and I'm holding his feverish little body, it makes me sadder than anything else. Sadder than breaking up with someone, sadder than watching <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0108101/">Shadowlands</a>, sadder than a death in the family. Of course, I realize that this pain is temporary and for that I am grateful, but still, it isn't temporary enough.</div><div><br /></div><div>In other developmental, uh, developments, Malcolm's got 4 teeth coming in up top. He's talking plenty lots of "ma-ma-ma-ma" and "ba-ba-ba-ba." I'm patiently waiting for a little "da-da-da-da" action. He likes getting chased around the house. Anything he's not supposed to get into, he likes getting into. </div><div><br /></div><div>And generally, plenty of contagious laughter, with his mouth open wide and his hands slapping at whatever is within reach and his eyes full of spark and sparkle.... I got to tell you, nothing has made me appreciate life more than hanging with The Boy. And I've seen things, been places, met people, experienced this, that, and the other... plenty of things that have made me happy... but nothing like him. He's good people.</div><div><br /></div><div>*Yes, I said "the" cat. Most of you probably know but the Boots was killed back at the beginning of the month. She got attacked by a dog over Labor Day weekend. Surprisingly, of the 2 cats, she let the boy paw at her more than Freeway, who generally runs from Malcolm whenever he gets close. The Boots would actually come up around the boy sometimes, like she wanted to lose a clump of fur (he's not so good with the petting yet). She could be a moody thing and we made her fat because we thought she was pregnant, but... she was family.</div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-51362173286035778142009-09-11T16:26:00.002-05:002009-09-11T16:29:41.078-05:00Guess It's a Good Thing I Don't Party Like I Used To<p class="mobile-photo">Or: Don't Have An Emergency</p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWrQ3-UVjLLlxKKY2_IdTRDKE0o23spxOLDYr2sqycJyH8g5S_4XFJOhI77Y0GK8TzZ2pMnOl0tIwzZmpT_31fwW7cFpWjk3NMstFnQZS6svZbVZlKNM8BM2cS6QrRUQGZLGWAatou4E/s1600-h/photo-708029.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWrQ3-UVjLLlxKKY2_IdTRDKE0o23spxOLDYr2sqycJyH8g5S_4XFJOhI77Y0GK8TzZ2pMnOl0tIwzZmpT_31fwW7cFpWjk3NMstFnQZS6svZbVZlKNM8BM2cS6QrRUQGZLGWAatou4E/s320/photo-708029.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380324466652931122" /></a></p>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-67124593350796662402009-09-10T08:53:00.002-05:002009-09-10T09:01:58.391-05:00It's been a whileI've been out on the road a bunch this summer and know I need to write a post. In the meantime, because he's like crack for the eyes, here's <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/packandgetdressed/sets/72157622204052229/">some pictures</a> I took yesterday. And if that wasn't enough for you, here's <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/packandgetdressed/collections/72157620324738553/">the page</a> that shows all the Malcolm pics on flickr. Try not to o.d. And if you just can't wait, here's one that Jason took over Labor Day weekend.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3jhSexDIHr4cZuSkfMrxVt8EjsJnTBQHQ2inwNA_SS3PUqlfOqqdlUo-S64kTWR533kTWWAi1-YwuswkbgRc_VYgQU5GuD4mxWJu-Ol7k-mGIfeeGYvjseJFVbWiHpHF2IAmnfiBfEo/s1600-h/Labor+Day+Weekend+002.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3jhSexDIHr4cZuSkfMrxVt8EjsJnTBQHQ2inwNA_SS3PUqlfOqqdlUo-S64kTWR533kTWWAi1-YwuswkbgRc_VYgQU5GuD4mxWJu-Ol7k-mGIfeeGYvjseJFVbWiHpHF2IAmnfiBfEo/s400/Labor+Day+Weekend+002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379838263654644338" /></a>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-22313198395004690722009-08-23T19:06:00.002-05:002009-08-23T19:22:38.055-05:00FirstsThis past Thursday Malcolm took 2 unassisted steps. He was leaning on his grandma then took his hand away from her and made 2 small steps forward, before promptly falling down. He's been pulling himself up and standing next to things for a couple of weeks. And with this has come his desire to walk. He holds onto our fingers and laughs as we go around the house. Sometimes he even kicks a ball as he walks. Now, ever since Thursday he wants to walk a lot more, and his speed has definitely increased. Nothing on his own since then. It was probably more fluke than anything, but hey, it happened!<div><br /></div><div>We've also been trying to get him to wave bye-bye whenever somebody leaves. There's been a couple of semi-waves--a shake of the arm with a closed fist at the end--but that's about it. This evening, Pam did a video chat with her sister, Amy. As the adults waved and said, "Buh-bye," Malcolm decided he wanted in on that action, too. We all watched as he said, "Buh-buh," and made a very definite wave. After a round of applause and near-standing ovation, and as Amy kept waving from 1750 miles away, he did it again. A wave and a "buh-buh." And then again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, as he sits and eats his dinner (summer squash and yukon gold potatoes, cheddar cheese, honeydew melon), or at least what he isn't smearing all over his face, he's saying it again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Current awesome factor: 9.9</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-50193644392511795112009-08-17T12:03:00.000-05:002009-08-17T12:04:17.984-05:00A Walk in the Park<object width="660" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/U9Oq2r9Pmlw&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/U9Oq2r9Pmlw&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="660" height="405"></embed></object>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-34043981814461418842009-07-23T21:42:00.000-05:002009-07-23T21:44:11.973-05:00It Is To Laughthanks to Amy for shooting this...<br /><br /><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TDuhUjYMW_8&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TDuhUjYMW_8&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-83378870402892502942009-07-16T12:47:00.001-05:002009-07-16T12:55:27.567-05:00it's starting<div><blockquote type="cite"><div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; color: #000000font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><b>From: </b></span><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;">Pam Whitehouse </span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; color: #000000font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><b>Date: </b></span><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;">July 16, 2009 11:33:53 AM MDT</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; color: #000000font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;color:#000000;"><b>Subject: </b></span><span style="font: 12.0px Helvetica;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:100%;"><b>it's starting</b></span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; min-height: 14px; "><br /></div> </div><div>left him on the other side of the table on his play mat to go make a sandwich. this is what I found when I came back. he loves these cords!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu8gplzGhR7H4cb3v5MCGK3YjxYeCmeKfICDZiykma0XIr78cJmkMq26_y22Y9VwIIX2C0Kr6F9_pAFDTmd6eN1XTYf9AH0B_S5vW-CAsZk6MmteeyTEhw-v4EO9diHP61Sc2XBT4LxE/s1600-h/photo.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifu8gplzGhR7H4cb3v5MCGK3YjxYeCmeKfICDZiykma0XIr78cJmkMq26_y22Y9VwIIX2C0Kr6F9_pAFDTmd6eN1XTYf9AH0B_S5vW-CAsZk6MmteeyTEhw-v4EO9diHP61Sc2XBT4LxE/s400/photo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359117844623454818" /></a><br /></div></blockquote><div edited="true">ichat between me and Pam:</div><div edited="true"><br /></div><div edited="true"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:36:08 AM<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </span></span>he was just hanging out there, with his knees on the shelf there</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:36:12 AM<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0); ">slight:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> hahaha</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:36:24 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> he unplugged my computer</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:36:39 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> it was on the coffee table plugged in</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:36:52 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> good thing these computers unplug easily or he'd have it on his head</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:36:55 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0); ">slight:</span> babyproofing</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:37:00 AM<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0); ">slight:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> wow</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:37:04 AM<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0); ">slight:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> hooray!!</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:37:27 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> so says the man in denver</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:37:33 AM<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> ;-)</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:37:50 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0); ">slight:</span> i love it!!</div><div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:38:49 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> he's going to truck across the floor to see you when you get home</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:39:08 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> omg he's coming right for me!</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:39:27 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> seriously just army crawled back over the shelf toward my feet</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:39:58 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128); ">pazaam:</span> ok, off to feed</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; "><span style="color: rgb(128, 128, 128); ">11:43:57 AM</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0); ">slight:</span> he's a mover!!</div></div></div></div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-82112035369631498542009-07-07T12:55:00.004-05:002009-07-07T13:13:46.232-05:007 - 7 - 7Today marks 7 months since Malcolm got ejected from the womb.<div><br /></div><div>From this:</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZ05Ybimb2OYAQrJjtDGcSBaKdfH1p7chQXtCoiXwS2Vyi0jdBUNsXnTcaqPRI78HbcrO9YchQqqJjSzNaekW84lq40r0XAbaTC-APeFCZVep01O3D06-BqHzXvzUqX6CpjOxxroUPVg/s1600-h/P1010957.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZ05Ybimb2OYAQrJjtDGcSBaKdfH1p7chQXtCoiXwS2Vyi0jdBUNsXnTcaqPRI78HbcrO9YchQqqJjSzNaekW84lq40r0XAbaTC-APeFCZVep01O3D06-BqHzXvzUqX6CpjOxxroUPVg/s400/P1010957.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355781552958748594" /></a><div><br />to this:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZqeEpRtIT8Mi5J2zKikM6GEXBAW7NmMxTPemC7y26WO8y1BatDztyqbh7jTPlvSwQXrDLvMDbYAaOo3yJAzjQpMgJ4GyC0jkyPwRU2W41-MzuhqJvuYQ3fURT3svp_eY324xc1rkxeo/s1600-h/P1010958_2.JPG"></a></div><div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZqeEpRtIT8Mi5J2zKikM6GEXBAW7NmMxTPemC7y26WO8y1BatDztyqbh7jTPlvSwQXrDLvMDbYAaOo3yJAzjQpMgJ4GyC0jkyPwRU2W41-MzuhqJvuYQ3fURT3svp_eY324xc1rkxeo/s1600-h/P1010958_2.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCY0X5Q5H0v4rB700NH2bkPGo655G2W-7BDKrENEndMthNeLUEMjZngn8xrGgf4l6CQMFyX4LlGHzUDcKMOcfpfkN8l7zUmW6e-nglVND4ncZdhYUQ-B9i3eqNj9P-FiN8I1UK-D-gjE/s1600-h/IMG_0215.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCY0X5Q5H0v4rB700NH2bkPGo655G2W-7BDKrENEndMthNeLUEMjZngn8xrGgf4l6CQMFyX4LlGHzUDcKMOcfpfkN8l7zUmW6e-nglVND4ncZdhYUQ-B9i3eqNj9P-FiN8I1UK-D-gjE/s400/IMG_0215.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355780128740874530" /></a><br /><br /><div>Yeah, we hit the jackpot.</div></div></div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-82384554921787089702009-07-06T16:46:00.004-05:002009-07-06T18:23:05.757-05:00TouchWhile Malcolm may very well be the World's Most Awesome Baby™, and while we have many days of awesomeness, not every day is fun-filled moments of golden rays of sunshine, magic unicorns and giant cupcakes. Some are plenty stressful. Last Wednesday was pretty much full-on fussy baby day. None of the usual suspects (tired, diaper, food) were really working to calm him. When it gets like this and you've tried everything and none of it has worked and he keeps crying, those cries turn into nails on chalkboard. And Pam's got a standing event on Wednesday nights, so I fly solo for 3 hours. I've got no problem flying solo with the kid; I've done it many times for more than 3 hours. But when it gets to be 3 hours of non-stop fussing... nails on chalkboard. And add into that the fact that he's a growing boy getting stronger and more active, it's not just dealing with his noise and the mental stress but physical stress, too. (He has gotten so squirmy lately it's ridiculous.) About the only thing that will soothe him is going outside to see what's happening. Of course, living in central Texas it's not comfortable to stay outside for any extended period of time.<div><br /></div><div>So by the time Pam got home, I needed a break. Some me time, whatever you want to call it, because I was in one hell of a bad mood. And nothing makes a bad mood worse than to know that the cause of your bad mood is a helpless little baby who's only fussing because something is wrong and he can't tell you what it is and you've failed to figure it out. Woo-hoo, I'm already failing as a parent. Hooray me! Not really, but in the moment... it sucks.</div><div><br /></div><div>I let Pam take over on Malcolm duty and went about cleaning out the cat box, taking out the trash, and throwing a pizza in the oven, all with one hand because the other was holding a freshly-opened beer. She jacks him up on the boob and he gets almost instantly content; some things only a mother can do. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then it's time for bed and the goodnight routine. He gets a diaper change and his teeth/gums brushed, a change of clothes if he needs it. The current parent/DJ turns on some tunes and he gets a relaxing dance leaning on a shoulder. Then it's goodnight to the robots, the elephantes, the dragon, the John Deere tractor, the big blue marble, the relatives and Mommy and Daddy. Some nights we're both in there for this routine and sometimes it's just one of us. Pam, being the excellent mindreader that she is, made sure I came in to say goodnight. </div><div><br /></div><div>They're slowly turning in the middle of the room to some Rockabye Baby. The lights are off but it's still twilight outside. She's got him on one shoulder and with her other arm pulls me in so we're a dancing family triangle and he's got us on both sides. She lets out a couple of long, deep breaths to help calm me down. She says things like, "Yes, you're a tired little boy" and "Mommy and Daddy love you so much" and such in a quiet, soothing voice. </div><div><br /></div><div>He reaches out his arms to the side of her face and touches her forehead with his own. Then he turns and holds his arms out to me. I lean in and we touch foreheads. It's a brief touch, a second at most, but it might as well have been a lifetime. In an instant my bad mood is gone, the stress of the last 3 hours is gone, the stress of life is gone, and my body, mind, and soul are nothing but vessels overflowing with love, peace and happiness. He's given us little hugs before but nothing like this. Nothing. I don't need the golden rays of sunshine or the magic unicorns or the giant cupcakes when I have a connection like that with my boy.</div>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-39511988917540343442009-06-26T14:45:00.002-05:002009-06-26T15:02:49.037-05:00Malcolm is Matt DillonOk, enough already with the eating/food posts, I know. And at some point, these posts will end. But while it's fresh and new at least, we are currently cracking up at how much he talks while he eats. It is total nom-nom-nom-ville, and just like Matt Dillon's character in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087265/">The Flamingo Kid</a>.<div><br /></div><object width="580" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/J00RuH64n10&hl=en&fs=1&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/J00RuH64n10&hl=en&fs=1&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="580" height="360"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="580" height="360"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dH8KI5qTj5M&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dH8KI5qTj5M&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="580" height="360"></embed></object>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-516026072582402701.post-8919732602546465762009-06-26T12:26:00.003-05:002009-06-26T13:25:42.207-05:00"You in the Jungle, Baby"Yesterday, we went to <a href="http://www.babiesrus.com/shop/index.jsp?categoryId=2255957">Hell</a> and got Malcolm a new toy--a rainforest themed exersaucer. Tropical rainforest, Pam would like to point out, not temperate! We first went to an infant/kid resale shop to sell some stuff and see what they had. They had several exersaucers, but all looked beat up or worn to some degree. And though they would have been considerably cheaper than the one we bought, we just couldn't bring ourselves to get anything less than the best for Malcolm. We've talked about getting him used stuff, that it will be perfectly fine, etc. but for this, we just couldn't do it. There's plenty of waste in this society and world at large, and he does have some hand-me-down stuff, but looking at these, it was hard to tell if they all worked how they were supposed to.<div><br /></div><div>So we went on to Hell and looked at what they had. There were really only 2 choices that seemed to be at least somewhat educational. But (spoiled kid alert) he already has 1 of those at Grandma's house. We were considering another one that was a little bit cheaper, and endorsed by a shopping mom: "She (her kid) loves it!" but its activities and theme seemed a bit disjointed. Also, its color scheme "offended our sensibilities." It was all red, purple, orange, and blue. If we're going to have to look and listen to this thing for the next year, then it's got to be easy on our eyes. So Evenflo Triple Fun ExerSaucer, welcome to your new home. And possible eventual destruction by Malcolm the Monster.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9IjtuAab18YnJwkzWgGGrgxUzhrA7gG6qC8QyUu-23TZO6n7SrlYYIX3I4n52ezk2KsF7DhQkMvgmtWq9acKFSDx_gOc463Za0cn3-uX__volSelXjDrw0ON8o2HjDg7wlzV_fZ4Y9c/s1600-h/P1020499.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK9IjtuAab18YnJwkzWgGGrgxUzhrA7gG6qC8QyUu-23TZO6n7SrlYYIX3I4n52ezk2KsF7DhQkMvgmtWq9acKFSDx_gOc463Za0cn3-uX__volSelXjDrw0ON8o2HjDg7wlzV_fZ4Y9c/s400/P1020499.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351693480350997714" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNekC7N_4u1xyjpDSCKW-AzPkSZX8eaRTlLnVL6Hmdk9jd8FvdewU7pMEFRfZtpk5KL6Y0mf4rrFvM85AOR9gRll9Tr1VtA4rdRQ9FXuI6-p3NzxohLFc-6WSaork3oEbQdJ7TpTN60Pk/s1600-h/P1020497.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNekC7N_4u1xyjpDSCKW-AzPkSZX8eaRTlLnVL6Hmdk9jd8FvdewU7pMEFRfZtpk5KL6Y0mf4rrFvM85AOR9gRll9Tr1VtA4rdRQ9FXuI6-p3NzxohLFc-6WSaork3oEbQdJ7TpTN60Pk/s400/P1020497.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351693470316948754" /></a>stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17721684625681994198noreply@blogger.com0