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...

We had a good run

It took about 9 months and 3 weeks but a day I was dreading finally happened. Malcolm got sick.

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.

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.

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 these 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 Shadowlands, 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.

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.

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.

*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.

Guess It's a Good Thing I Don't Party Like I Used To

Or: Don't Have An Emergency

It's been a while

I'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 some pictures I took yesterday. And if that wasn't enough for you, here's the page 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.

Firsts

This 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!

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.

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.

Current awesome factor: 9.9

A Walk in the Park

It Is To Laugh

thanks to Amy for shooting this...

it's starting

From: Pam Whitehouse

Date: July 16, 2009 11:33:53 AM MDT

Subject: it's starting

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!

ichat between me and Pam:

11:36:08 AM pazaam: he was just hanging out there, with his knees on the shelf there

11:36:12 AM slight: hahaha

11:36:24 AM pazaam: he unplugged my computer

11:36:39 AM pazaam: it was on the coffee table plugged in

11:36:52 AM pazaam: good thing these computers unplug easily or he'd have it on his head

11:36:55 AM slight: babyproofing

11:37:00 AM slight: wow

11:37:04 AM slight: hooray!!

11:37:27 AM pazaam: so says the man in denver

11:37:33 AM pazaam: ;-)

11:37:50 AM slight: i love it!!

11:38:49 AM pazaam: he's going to truck across the floor to see you when you get home

11:39:08 AM pazaam: omg he's coming right for me!

11:39:27 AM pazaam: seriously just army crawled back over the shelf toward my feet

11:39:58 AM pazaam: ok, off to feed

11:43:57 AM slight: he's a mover!!

7 - 7 - 7

Today marks 7 months since Malcolm got ejected from the womb.

From this:

to this:

Yeah, we hit the jackpot.

Touch

While 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.