The Boys

This is not a post about Jerry Jones' football team.

It is a post about Malcolm's testicles.

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.

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.

The doc, Dr. Trester, 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.)

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

"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."

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.

In the park behind Central Market

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.

Malcolm at the Lap

Yesterday 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.

There was not much joy in Malcolmville yesterday...

Eventually we were needed to intervene and return the events to some sense of normalcy.

SPOOOOON!

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.

Also, he can now stand up on his own from a sitting position. It's on, people, totally on.

JC Penney's Catalog circa 1985

Names, Signs, Smells, Walking & Laughing

For 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.

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.

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).

Fun fact: Malcolm ate enough blueberries this week that we smelled blueberry when we changed his diaper.

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.

Since early October, Pam's been saying that Malcolm will be walking by himself thru the airports. Well, here comes trouble:

(Now in HD goodness.)

Getting Bipedalicious

Iron-On Winners

Thanks to everyone who voted. The top 3 vote-getters were:

B/W Radiohead

Little Lebowski Urban Achievers

Hall & Oates

Not far behind, and therefore getting put on the next blank shirt of his I come across, were:

Lone Star

Beer Chang

Abide

J.C. Penney catalog-type photos coming soon...

Randomness

A few random things...

Malcolm got over his ear infection pretty easily. We're grateful because that isn't always the case. Shout-out of thanks to Dr. Marty Molina for the help.

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.

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.

But... there is something about it that really pisses me off.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Malcolm 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.

2 versions of the Radiohead bear to choose from. Pam likes the one with the eyes but I like the plain one.

It's the Reagle Beagle from Three's Company!

BoingBoing is an awesome blog I read.

Hall & Oates!!

One of Malcolm's favorite toys is a John Deere tractor.

Some Big Lebowski-themed ideas:

Beasties!

Malcolm likes elephants and we liked this beer in Thailand.

I'm not going to say anything because of the 1st rule.

No explanation needed.

If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...