Lend me your elephant ears…

The Hillsdale County Fair is a big tradition in my family. Both of my parents grew up going to it, as did my sister and I, and now our kids will. It’s way better than our fair for a lot of reasons– and it’s the true end of summer for us. It’s probably the last one in the state making it deliciously autumnal and chilly. My Mom says this is a memory only one generation long– when she was still in school she remembers that fair week was always hot enough to warrant a new “shorts and halter” ensemble. Fair week fashion being very important to her and her siblings.

I don’t think we’ve missed many HC fairs. When I lived in the greater metropolitan area Robby and I came home for it. Last year it was Jack’s first big outing. We bundled him up against the cold autumn night and wheeled his little stroller about much to the horror of a few people we met. The year my Grandfather died– during fair week– we walked about the fair in a somber mood with my cousins because it still seemed like the right thing to do.

The best thing about the HCF (outside of the Corndog/Fiske French Fry/Double Dutch Treat/Lemonade/Hot Peanuts/Custard Pie/Elephant Ear Culinary Extravaganza) is the bits and pieces we’d learn about our parents. When we were small we’d fuss about having to stop so my parents could greet some old friend or another but the older we got the more fun it was. We had pools about how many people Dad would meet or Mom would run into. Old high school friends, cousins, long ago neighbors– my Dad stood 6′2″ and was easy to spot so there were many greetings exchanged while we tugged on his arm for more food money.

While we’d walk around the fair old bits of history would come out from Mom & Dad’s high school days or earlier… not any big tales but the little details that don’t often come up in conversation. In a cotton candy/carmel apple coma we’d be shocked into realizing that before they were Mom & Dad they had lives of their own.

Even going without my parents there is always someone that will spot us and ask, “Are you Bruce’s older girl?” or “You have to be Ruth’s daughter!”

Yesterday was no exception. Jack and I went with Mom to grab some lunch (hello Mr. Corndog!) and see the exhibition buildings and peek at the animals. Jack, as it turns out, is quite the horse race enthusiast. He belly laughed at the practising sulky cart laps while Mom spewed a surprising wealth of the intricacies of horse racing. (Apparently her many fair weeks while growing up yielded her a head full of useful horse info. I might take her to the track.) We ran into my Dad’s youngest sister and the older brother of my Mom’s old high school boyfriend. Not bad.

And we finished off our trip with a visit to my Granny bearing a hot elephant ear. Granny loves elephant ears. We always end the fair with a nice hot cup of tea and piece of ear.

It’s all a good tradition.

And, it turns out, Jack’s fond of elephant ears. Hopefully it will distract him from his newfound obsession with horse racing.

Chicken!

I took Jack in for shots today. He was supposed to have them last week at his “one year well baby check up” but he was 3 days shy of one year and the chicken pox vaccine wouldn’t count when the day comes to enroll him in kindergarten. Go figure. So our good doctor said to pop in after his birthday and he’d give him the round of immunizations necessary.

Usually Robby goes to Jack’s appointments, too. We schedule them around his work day so that we have 4 ears listening to the info that the nurses and doctor give… and so that I don’t have to hold him when they give him shots.

Hey. I did the labor part. He can do this.

Poor Jack’s happy little face screwed up into unhappy surprise and then a scream. The nurses at our pediatrician are fabulous– and, as my mother pointed out, they don’t try to BS Jacky with stupid nontruths like, “Oooh! Don’t worry! This won’t hurt!” because it will hurt. They usually apologize to Jack and tell him it will be quick. And it is– they are really fast at the whole horrible moment. And they have nifty band-aids. Fun ones.

Still. I didn’t like my first row seat to Jack’s wounded expression. Poor baby. Mom nearly had both of us in her lap.

Stupid chicken pox. A pox on pox.

Toddling

Now that Jack’s OneYearOld he’s decided that walking is better than crawling. Apparently he was just waiting for the big day to walk with purpose. He toddles around the house now and likes best when he can hold my pant leg or finger. It’s opened up a whole new world to him.

And to me. Yikes. There’s a lot more to keeping an eye on him now.

His birthday, for the record, went very well. We had a simple supper of salad and the chicken noodle soup my sister is famous for (she’d made a batch on the Eve of Jack that I never had. It was on my mind frequently during labor. I’m nothing if not motivated by food. It’s shameful.) and, of course, cake. Jack wasn’t quite sure about the cake. He doesn’t like having his hands messy (yet). He poked at it gingerly until we got out one of his colorful little spoons and opened his mouth. Silly baby. He got lots of new things to play with– the hit, so far, is a “Hokey Pokey Elmo” that sends him over the edge giggling. We’ve hokey pokey-ed a lot the last two days.

Today we rocked out in the kitchen with a couple of plastic bowls and wooden spoons. We’re thinking of going on tour if we could just find a lead singer and guitar player. We’ll have to play matinees. Bedtime comes early, you know.

September 20, 2005

Dear Jack,

Your Dad’s putting you off to bed while I type this. It’s been a good day. We gave you your birthday present this morning– a day early but we decided that tomorrow other people will fete you. Today you’re all ours. We gave you a car. Try to remember that when you’re 16 and you are trying to convince us that you need one. This car is pretty snazzy. It has buttons that play music and horns honking and a steering wheel that spins. It also has a stick in the back for us to steer you. You don’t seem to mind that so much. We took you out for a spin tonight and you seemed very pleased with your new ride. (You also impressed a couple of toddlers on the way.)

By the time you read this, Jack, you’ll probably be on to the fact that your Mom tends to get a little sentimental now and then. Endings always really get to me and tonight is an ending– tomorrow a whole new year will start and that will be exciting and happy and good– but tonight is your last night “in the months” and it makes me a little sad. How did this year fly by so fast? A year ago tonight your Dad and I were stuck in an “Infant CPR” Red Cross class with an old school instructor that scolded me for bringing a snack to class. (She told me she didn’t usually allow it because of the danger of choking. Remember that I was very, very pregnant and isn’t that what she would be an expert in anyway? Wouldn’t a Red Cross class be the ideal place to choke?) When we started for home (with our little cards that said we passed) your Dad swung by the ice-cream Parlour so I could get a chocolate malt. I’d felt funny all day and nothing sounded very good except for a chocolate malt. At home I climbed into a bath while your Dad “watched” Monday Night Football while asleep in the la-z-boy. My water broke (or was it your water?) and we kissed the pup goodnight and went off to the hospital.

You know the rest. It was a long night. Then a long day. Then a splendid evening when we met you. Your cousins discovered that you came into the world with your own theme song– that Earth, WInd, & Fire ditty about “the 21st night of September…” Not bad, kiddo. And, after a few more adventures, the nice doctors and nurses decided that we could take you home and our whole world got a whole lot better.

We weren’t bad people before you came along, little man– for the most part… but you’ve improved upon us greatly. Your Dad’s a lot more patient. Your Mom’s a lot less selfish. You’ve made us notice a lot of things we hadn’t before– some stuff that scares us silly but mostly stuff that we’d been too busy to really appreciate. You have us both in a habit of looking up at the sky and ceilings because you always do. And how much sharper you’ve made our sense to laugh!– it comes to you so easily. It’s made our senses of humor broader. Who knew how funny a little monkey puppet could be? or a washcloth on our head? Thanks for that. And thanks for all the ways you’ve encouraged us along the way– the little coos at first and now the gentle pats and neck hugs.

You’ve got a bright future ahead of you– there is so much fun to be had and so many places to go and things to see and eat and smell and hear that you haven’t yet. I’m glad that we get to go along for the ride. Being your Mom is the very best thing I’ve ever been. And this is coming from someone who’s led a pretty charmed life. I’ve had a lot of really wonderful adventures, Jack– but by far you are the best one.

I love you, JackRabbit. Happy 365th day of life.

Mommy

P.S. Thanks for sending the roses today. Nice touch, kiddo.

Separation Anxieties?

This weekend I went to work on a film shoot. I used to do this all the time– traveling here and there and getting to do all sorts of interesting things with interesting people. But recently the only filming I’ve done is with our little camcorder and Jack. Partly this is due to Jack himself– but it’s also a matter of timing… My pal, the director, has been busier with post production stuff then he has with production so there hasn’t been as many opportunities. I haven’t missed much.

I have missed filming in general though. It’s a great group of people and we always manage to have a lot of fun even while we work our tails off. This weekend was what my pal calls a “shootette” because it was small and nearby– just an hour away instead of the usual 8-12 hour haul out East. It was perfect for me… I hadn’t ever spent a night away from Jack. Not for a year and 9 months now. I’ve been away from him for chunks of time but not overnight and all day.

This in itself became fodder with different friends lately– my pal Judy told me to “Go! Go!” because she’d never been apart from her kids for a night until the oldest was darn near close to her tween years. A few people I know clucked at me as though I wasn’t supposed to be interested in filming or breathing or any of the other things I enjoyed before mommyhood… Rob was excited about me going away– he’d never spent a night alone with Jack. He had visions of all the Man THings they could do while I was away. (Because I’m just such an embodiment of estrogen and all things pink…)

In the end it was nice to get away if just to get back again. I missed Jack when it came time to sleep because at home the very last thing I do before crawling into bed is check on him. I missed that quiet little moment watching his little fat belly rise and fall to the hiss of his snoring. During the day, at the shootette, I was too busy to miss him much– which was nice, too. I think I like that best about filming most of all– it consumes your focus for the time being completely. It’s nice to be consumed once in a while. Kind of clears your head a little.

On the way home from filming I picked up my Mom at the airport. She’s come in for a few weeks to celebrate Jack’s birthday and take care of things on this side of the hemisphere. It’s good to have Mom home for a while. There’s no one to play with around here during the day.

When we got in to town we met up with Rob and Jacky over at my Mom’s house and after I’d snuggled Jack and smelled his neck we showed him his Momma. After a few seconds of confusion (and my homecoming added to that) he grinned.

I know just how you feel kid.

Combat photography

I took Jacky in for a “First Birthday” picture at Sears. I know that I’m cutting his first year short by a week but I’ve seen enough of my friends’ kids pictures to know that, if I wait a week, no doubt he’ll break out in some freaky rash or end up with a bruise or bug bite or some other thing I’d have a moral dilemna deciding whether to airbrush or not.

So I took him today.

The benefit to waiting a week would have been having my Mommy go, too, which would have been nice. It can be a little tricky all by yourself to have such a momentous outing. Getting him in cleaned and ironed clothes and driving across town with enough snacks and small toys to keep him entertained (and awake)… oh. And did I mention that the dog went, too?

What the hell was I thinking?

So there I am in the Sears parking lot unfolding the Urban Assault Stroller and getting Jack tucked in the top and Philbin tucked in the bottom and realizing that I would need to carry my tote and Jack’s diaper bag because the little dog, while very little, tends to be territorial… Rain would make this scene fun, wouldn’t it? Did I mention that it was raining? And that I am parked so that I have to stand on the grid of a storm drain to get Jack out of the car and all I can think of is Don’t Drop Anything In To The Storm Drain Grid because that’s all I need– to lose the keys or Jack’s nuk or my sanity down the storm drain.

We make our way in the non-handicapped accessible doors (which means that I have to navigate the stroller between two heavy, heavy doors that were manufactured in 1967 when apparently the only people Sears wanted coming in through the doors were the able bodied. It’s dry in the store. And nicely cooled by an air conditioner. I wheel Jack back to the studio where it is a good 30 degrees warmer. This was great 6 months ago when we had a little tushie shot taken but not so much now that I’ve swaddled the poor boy in a long sleeved shirt, blue jeans, socks and shoes. Even the dog is panting.

The photography department girls greet me and pretend to be disappointed that I didn’t bring along a dog after all… until I point him out in the stroller cargo area. The relief on their faces is instantly transformed into stoic smiles.

And the fun really starts. Jack is happy to stand holding on to the giant numeral 1 but Philbin wants nothing to do with sitting still near the base of it. We get the dog to stay put then convince Jack to stand back up (he’s dropped to his knees in solidarity with the dog… I’m saying, “Sit! Sit!” and at least one of them is paying attention.) Just as the girl is ready to snap a photo Philbin takes off the side and we start all over again. I bring out the raggedy caterpillar toy that both my son and my pup love to play with together thinking maybe Philbin will sit still with it nearby. Big mistake. Now he wants to play and Jack’s thinking that standing isn’t so fun after all and he’d like to play, too.

Arrrgh.

Somehow we get a shot of both of them. I mumble something about combat pay and hope that they won’t tack it on the bill… while I stow the dog back into the stroller so we can get more shots of Jack.

NOW the dog wants in. While Jack poses the dog barks. Nice. We put Jack in the stroller and get a couple of just the dog that seems to placate the dog and please Jack.

I’m in a full sweat now and wondering if I’ll have enough money to buy a change of clothes in the Land’s End section.

All told we there about a half hour– though I’m sure it seemed longer to the poor girls there. And, at least as far as the proofs are concerned, we got some good shots. (Do you like that “we” there? I’m sure if they could they’d send the mommies off for a latte while they get the shots they want…)

Remind me of this when he’s 12 and doesn’t want to sit for a picture, either?

Achoo. Achoo. Achoo.

Once upon a time… all 3 of us have colds.

Papa Bear (and he is a bear when he’s sick) has it the worst. He has this wretched hacking cough that jars me awake. (And yes, at 3 a.m. it IS all about me. I’m not a pretty girl. I need all the beauty sleep I can get.)

Mama Bear (that’s me) went in for a strep test this morning. 14 hours later I’m STILL waiting for the results. The quickie one came back okay. They did a slow (apparently REALLY slow) one to be on the safe side. You’d think, with medical technology, that this would mean I’d only have to gag horribly once… but no. Two big Qtip sticks came at me. Uck.

Baby Bear has a runny nose. And watery eyes. Poor baby. He hates having either of us pick his nose (which, I have to agree, is completely justifiable) or even wipe it. It’s an ongoing little drama. I think he’s weathering it okay now. We had a few nights of him waking up every 20 minutes that were getting a little old till we remembered that we have friends whose babies do this just for kicks.

The Little Black Dog refuses to play the part of Goldilocks– but, even so, it wouldn’t much matter. He wouldn’t sleep in Baby Bear’s bed anyway. He prefers the top of Mama Bear’s head.

And we all sniffed happily ever after.

One small step for Jack! One giant leap into toddlerhood

He’s walked. For two days now.

He has this amazing little zorba the greek thing happening with his arms out stretched and his bottom half wiggling with high, halting steps. Or it’s Tevye singing, “If I were a rich man”– we aren’t sure.

We are sure that we are amazed. And surprised at how startling it is to see him moving across the room at knee level.

Baby steps, kiddo… don’t walk away too fast.

Katrina is one of my least favorite names…

I can’t get the babies out of my mind. All day the images of the babies affected by Katrina poke my memory and leave me unsettled. Today I was in search of an extra pacifier to tuck in my pocket for Jack on an outing and it occured to me how very, very blessed we are to have extra pacifiers.

The Hurricane Aftermath news bothers me– I’m not sure it’s fair to place blame on anyone or anything. I think our government has made some major mistakes, yes, but I also think that the magnitude of this disaster warrants a little error on the part of the rescue efforts. This hasn’t ever happened in modern times here before. We’re so used to immediate relief in communications and basic sanitation… it’s hard to imagine such a scenerio as this that would render all of those things obsolete.

New Orleans itself is such a quagmire in itself. The levy system is so ridiculously outdated and has been for years. The city’s built in a hole– it wouldn’t necessarily taken a Hurricane Katrina to cause some of the devastating flooding…

At work today a coworker railed against me because she knows I am somewhat conservative. I think she honestly thinks George Bush is in control of the weather which has her giving him far more power than I ever have.

And I’m tired of people up here in the midwest saying they know exactly how they would have behaved… I can’t say for sure that if it came to it Rob wouldn’t strangle someone if it meant food for our boy. Not sure I wouldn’t.

But it all makes me sad.

And much more patient with fussy Jack tonight.

Good people

A big holiday weekend for us.

The first part of it was spent at the “Fair at New Boston”– a tradesfair that depicts the 1790s and early 1800s in Ohio. My pal Bea is a milliner and I am one of her burden girls or shop girls. Rob has tagged along now for the last couple of years to play, too, and this year we introduced Jack to the experience.

Let me add here that Jack was utterly adorable in his little gowns and daycap. Best dressed kid under 5 there.

The fair is really interesting in its own right– lots to see and do and buy. The food is phenomenally good and the ambience is unique. The real draw though are the friends that attend every year. Friends that I don’t see often enough. All weekend it seemed we laughed. And they are so kind to our Jack– especially his Auntie Ericka. I think she is almost as smitten with him as he with her. I am amazed at the capacity I have for hope and love and good things now that Jack is here and seeing him with my pals and him so accepted and loved in return only adds to my lot.

I needed this weekend. I’ve been a little dark lately. It was good to spend 14 hours a day laughing. I heard some great poo stories. And added to some diabolical plotting for upcoming practical jokes. (Stay tuned.)

And the rest of our weekend was equally happy– our pals Liz and Fadi were in town from California with their little son Joseph. He’s about 10 weeks behind Jack in age but so clever! and really, really cute. I’ve known Liz since we were about 9 years old and certainly through the years that you imagine growing up just as you are at 12 with your very best friends right near by and all of your babies playing… It was wonderful to see our babies play with each other… though Jack’s joyous screeching left Joseph looking for reassurance from his mama. They’re good people.

It’s been a weekend of good people. I needed that.