Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Nine! Ah Ah Ah!
Read the post title in the voice of the Count from Sesame Street and it makes more sense.Anyway, so much for regular blogging. I blame the holidays and the stubborn cold I've been battling for about a week now. Sleep deprivation is a bitch when it comes to blogging at 10 p.m. (yes, I'm old).
Lindsay turned nine months old last Thurday, on Thanksgiving, and she's celebrated the occasion with some major accomplishments...well, major if you are nine months old. Herewith, the top nine pertinent facts and/or milestones and/or remembrances I'd like to put down to commemorate this occasion:
- My favorite thing she does now, right off the bat: as she nurses before bedtime, we have this heart-warming little ritual where Nicola says "Where's Daddy?" and Lindsay stops nursing and looks over at me, standing by the door. She smiles a knee-buckling smile and then waves goodbye to me! Sometimes I get the "fingers folding to palm wave" and sometimes the "full arm gyration wave"...but these are waves -- intentional waves -- people, I'm telling you. I love this moment, right before she goes to sleep.
- She has learned how to wave, perfecting it in the last two weeks or so.
- She plays peek-a-boo now, working both ends of this classic. Just in the past few days, she'll take a blanket, a hat, a drumstick, whatever's handy...and she puts it up in front of her face as you say "Where's Lindsay?" She drops it, and you say "There she is!" and everyone cheers. Methinks she has us well trained.
- Speed crawling army style.
- Regular crawling -- first distinct movements (in the pure sense) seen on Thanksiving.
- Pulling herself up on furniture, legs, arms, whatever.
- Ate her first meat: fittingly, turkey on Thanksgiving.
- Vitals at nine months: 16 lb 6 oz (20th %), 50th % in height and 75th % in head. That's how we grow them in the Taggart family...big fat pumpkin headed. Not skinny usually -- that must be the Ries genes.
- Turns pages in books, after she peeks around the corner to see what's coming.
I could go on and on, really. Lindsay is just a delightful, drooling bundle of cuteness and giggles and happiness and discovery. It was a joy to watch her play with her grandparents over the holiday weekend and to see how she charms them as much she's got us wrapped up.
I'm done making promises here about what I will and won't do. My intentions are good...is that enough?
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Rewind that back
I used to make this clever observation that high school and college were backwards in terms of the order in life. The logic was that high school is more like a job -- you arrive early, stay at the same place all day with mostly the same people, doing slight variations of the same thing. Very scheduled, very routine. Then you go to college, and you have incredible freedom, random schedules (for example, my senior year I had my first class at 3:oo p.m. on several days), very little structure, etc. This is NOT like a job...so wouldn't it make more sense to have the more job-like experience (high school) lead into a job, instead of the college thing in between?
Still some validity to this observation...but last night, I reconsidered this. College prepares you for work exactly because of the freedom you are granted -- to manage this freedom without 1) failing out; 2) getting arrested; 3) drinking yourself silly; or 4) a combination of these things is (by one measure) a successful journey through college. High school is still about obligations and close monitoring, while college is not. And neither is work, in most cases. My boss isn't watching me every second...otherwise she'd know I'm taking a break here to write a few lines in my blog. She trusts me to complete my job and its tasks (which I do) without her having to watch my every move, and this is how I treat people I supervise. So, college does get you ready to be on your own, so to speak, out in the big, bad world. No, this isn't some grand epiphany on the scale of "Einhorn's a man!"...but I thought it was interesting.
And it's interesting to see how people -- even 10 years out of college -- deal with this freedom. The guy one cube over is not exactly setting the world on fire in terms of his career, and today (with his boss out and our department boss leaving early) he was at his desk for all of about two hours, I'd guess, and he left at 3:10 -- the minute he could get away with it. I don't want to be a jerk about it...I'd hate to be that guy who rats out his coworkers -- but it's a bit ridiculous. I think he's getting away with a bit much, and it bugs me, because I'm working pretty hard here to do the right thing. Oh well -- the only person's behavior I can control is my own, right? Wow, I'm full of dull cliched observations today.
I'll likely be taking the next few days off on the old blog. We've got family in town for the holiday weekend. Maybe I'll post some pictures. Anyway, happy turkey day to all.
Still some validity to this observation...but last night, I reconsidered this. College prepares you for work exactly because of the freedom you are granted -- to manage this freedom without 1) failing out; 2) getting arrested; 3) drinking yourself silly; or 4) a combination of these things is (by one measure) a successful journey through college. High school is still about obligations and close monitoring, while college is not. And neither is work, in most cases. My boss isn't watching me every second...otherwise she'd know I'm taking a break here to write a few lines in my blog. She trusts me to complete my job and its tasks (which I do) without her having to watch my every move, and this is how I treat people I supervise. So, college does get you ready to be on your own, so to speak, out in the big, bad world. No, this isn't some grand epiphany on the scale of "Einhorn's a man!"...but I thought it was interesting.
And it's interesting to see how people -- even 10 years out of college -- deal with this freedom. The guy one cube over is not exactly setting the world on fire in terms of his career, and today (with his boss out and our department boss leaving early) he was at his desk for all of about two hours, I'd guess, and he left at 3:10 -- the minute he could get away with it. I don't want to be a jerk about it...I'd hate to be that guy who rats out his coworkers -- but it's a bit ridiculous. I think he's getting away with a bit much, and it bugs me, because I'm working pretty hard here to do the right thing. Oh well -- the only person's behavior I can control is my own, right? Wow, I'm full of dull cliched observations today.
I'll likely be taking the next few days off on the old blog. We've got family in town for the holiday weekend. Maybe I'll post some pictures. Anyway, happy turkey day to all.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
An even 3 dozen
Heartfelt thank yous to my incredible bride and to my two beautiful daughters for making my birthday weekend very special. Once, the nerf football was the symbol of the perfect birthday -- the pristine foam in one or two shades, the soft squeezability before it got soggy or hard. It was what everyone gave you when you were eight, and that was cool. Now, I settle for a donut for breakfast, pizza and cold beer for dinner. Maybe later on we'll get the Speisekammer meal I'm cravnig...but even that won't top the love and smiles and giggles from my family. And Dec. 14, Barenaked Ladies here we come!
Below: candle blowing and zoo visiting
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
I didn't choose these people...but I guess they are OK
NJ recap: off we went with Ella and Lindsay for a 5-day dash (2 in the air, 3 on the ground) to Chatham and other scenic northern NJ suburbs. I won't bore you with the details of the trip. If you made it past yesterday's graphic description of Lindsay's phlegmy state, then you deserve a break.The time with my mom and step-dad was great -- they are fun to be around, interesting to talk to, and fantastic grandparents. And I totally dig my sister and her husband and my adorable little niece. Surprisingly, the time with my dad and his extended family was actually OK. My dad seemed more relaxed than I've seen him in a long time, even though 1) he is now playing Mr. Mom at nearly 63 years old to my 4- and 1-year-old "brothers" -- Zach and Andrew; 2) we were "burying" his father that weekend; 3) he was off his home turf; and 4) he hosted 15 people (including 5 kids under the age of 6) in his hotel "suite" on Saturday night.
The service at a Westfield, NJ, cemetery -- home to the Taggart family plot, apparently (great grandpa and grandma, now grandfather, assorted grand aunts and who knows) -- was short and sweet and, well, appropriate. I was glad that my uncle, who bore the brunt of my grandfather's decline in recent years, was honest in mentioning the terrible toll that alcohol took on Campbell's life and his relationships. My dad's side of the family is all too familiar with struggles with the bottle, and Tom made pointed reference to the awareness we Taggarts all must have of this lurking menace in our genes. Is that over the top? I don't know -- I think it's in there somewhere, and I think Tom and I (if I may self-identify) are the first two Taggart men in quite a while to avoid this unfortunate family trait. Tom has taken it on more...formally, as he doesn't drink anymore and attends AA. Hope that's not a secret! I...well, I think about the boasting I've done of my drinking exploits, and I think of the tendency I still can show to binge when the opportunity presents itself, and maybe I'm not totally clear of the legacy. I'd like to think I am -- in an average week, I might have one or two drinks, total. That to me is not a problem...and I can look back and see when it was problematic and had all the chance in the world to blossom into a full-blown problem. Am I rationalizing? Maybe -- and yet I still know that alcohol will not control me, and I am doing my best to make good choices in all aspects of my life so as to lead the Taggart name in a better direction.Sweet jesus -- step down off the pulpit! I didn't mean for this post to be so...about me. Back to the weekend -- Tom spoke a wonderful piece, as did my dad and aunt. Tom read the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, which says in part "For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned...." That really resonated with me, as I stood a few feet away from my own father, whom I have never really pardoned for his mistakes, his failings, his weaknesses. And we were burying his father, with whom my dad had (I think) some of the same issues. Vicious cycle, this paternal bullshit.
I saw my two cousins (19 and 17 I think) for the first time in about four years, and they've turned into really cool kids. I enjoyed talking to them. My aunt was her usual sweet but superficial self -- you can never quite get past the surface with her. She's like her mother -- always acting as if everything is OK even as tragedy and sadness batter the foundation.
I don't know when we'll all be together again, and that's OK. My family has never really been big on large gatherings. The behavior was exemplary -- funny how a graveside discourse on alcoholism will keep the drinking to a minimum throughout the weekend. Let's hope that sets the tone for future family events.
End of the trip photo, below.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
She stood! And everything changed.
So yesterday. The posting thing -- didn't quite work out, as Lindsay had a triple cocktail of cold, teething and general baby fussiness. She was awake for all of, oh, 10 minutes after I got home, but Nicola and I spent the rest of the evening clearing the decks in the house, having dinner, doing the dishes, taking out the garbage and the rest of the Cleaver house chores. Lindsay awoke repeatedly throughout the night, leaving us both tired and, in Nicola's case, already behind the 8-ball and facing another long day of tending to our Little Bean the Big Huge Snotty Red-Eyed Mess.
I came home early to help out, and to do some quick work on the crib. See, this is the day that Lindsay decided to learn how to pull herself to a standing position in the crib. Dripping snot and tears, there she teetered at the crib rail...and Nicola could no longer safely leave her in there to work out her wake-ups and little issues. Daddy to the rescue, johnny on the spot with an allen wrench! I lowered the crib mattress two notches, and we put Lindsay to bed at the ripe hour of 5:30 p.m. And now, barely two hours later, she's already woken up and shown us that she can still pull herself to a standing position. If you haven't been in these shoes, you can't understand the incredible change in circumstances and perspective. But look -- our kid can now stand up! And she got there under her own steam! And she is steamed all right -- mad that she feels like crap and getting a hot moist blast from the vaporizer next to her crib.
Nicola called this the toughest day in a long time, and I don't blame her. The helpless feeling of the parent of a sick child is no fun. All you want to do is make it better, in a simple Hallmark-card kind of way, and that's just about the only thing you can't do. So you wipe the snot -- usually on a shirt sleeve or back of the hand -- and you sing the lullabys and you hope that it doesn't take too long before your little darling is back to her normal happy, smiling, blossoming-before-your-eyes self.
Tomorrow -- that would be a good time for that, OK?
I came home early to help out, and to do some quick work on the crib. See, this is the day that Lindsay decided to learn how to pull herself to a standing position in the crib. Dripping snot and tears, there she teetered at the crib rail...and Nicola could no longer safely leave her in there to work out her wake-ups and little issues. Daddy to the rescue, johnny on the spot with an allen wrench! I lowered the crib mattress two notches, and we put Lindsay to bed at the ripe hour of 5:30 p.m. And now, barely two hours later, she's already woken up and shown us that she can still pull herself to a standing position. If you haven't been in these shoes, you can't understand the incredible change in circumstances and perspective. But look -- our kid can now stand up! And she got there under her own steam! And she is steamed all right -- mad that she feels like crap and getting a hot moist blast from the vaporizer next to her crib.
Nicola called this the toughest day in a long time, and I don't blame her. The helpless feeling of the parent of a sick child is no fun. All you want to do is make it better, in a simple Hallmark-card kind of way, and that's just about the only thing you can't do. So you wipe the snot -- usually on a shirt sleeve or back of the hand -- and you sing the lullabys and you hope that it doesn't take too long before your little darling is back to her normal happy, smiling, blossoming-before-your-eyes self.
Tomorrow -- that would be a good time for that, OK?
Update added 11/16: photographic evidence (and please don't notice the droopy drawers -- she's sick, after all)
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Let's begin again
I don't know who I'm writing for. I know I have a few people who read this sporadically...but do they really care or are they really entertained by my anecdotes about Ella's phone stuff or Lindsay's milestones or recollections of my experiences? I guess the answer is...I'm going to keep writing this for me, whether or not they ("you"?) are entertained. I'll write what inspires me and what moves me; I'll document things for future reference; I'll make an observation or two just to keep my own brain sharp. I find myself noticing things and thinking, "I should write about that" and then...I rarely do. But I should...this is for me...and anyone else who stumbles in, don't take it the wrong way that I'm saying "this is for me." It's a mechanism to make this exercise less about obligation and more about inspiration.
Today's topics: two random things. Tomorrow: N.J. weekend recap.
Today's topics: two random things. Tomorrow: N.J. weekend recap.
- Last Thursday, Nov. 10, was the 14th anniversary of an epic day spent with my friend Gene Larson. I'm trying to get past boasting about my drunken exploits...I'm nearly 36, and the line between proudly discussing how much I partied and quietly wondering why in the hell I did such things is starting to shift a bit. But still, this is worth remembering, if only for how it helped cement what has become of the most important friendships in my life. Anyway, for UNC readers of this, you'll appreciate this day: Carolina football game with Jim Beam-laced stadium cups; then to Troll's, where we ran into some old friends of mine; then back down to the Dean Dome for an exhibition game (?), and we drank more there (and students don't really do that); then to Franklin St. again for dinner at The Rat, where I knew some of the managers and waiters (used to date a girl who bartended and hostessed there); then to Swenson's, where Gene worked, for some sundaes; and then finally back to Troll's...or was it Henderson Street? Or Bub's? I can't remember. We had a blast, and we even called Gene's Dad, Sgt. Major Morris Larson of the United States Marine Corps, to honor the Corps' birthday (Nov. 10 -- this is the only reason I can remember the USMC birthday). Here we are, 14 years later, still best pals, still bleedin' the Carolina Blue, still sticking by each other through thick and thin...and the occasional "over served" evening. Ah, now there's a story!
- Am I completely nuts, or is the Christmas thing starting way TOO DAMN EARLY this year...even more so than normal. I ran across "The Grinch" on TV tonight. Hello, people! It is Nov. 13, and TBS or whoever is running "The Grinch"? I will go right off my rocker if I see Heat Miser or Rudolph in the next few days. I think part of my issue is the California Christmas -- I still can't get used to the weather. 68 degrees today and sunny, up to 80 later this week, they say. I miss the crisp fall of New England, the chance of snow, my stepfather guessing how cold it is by the curl of the rhododendron leaves. I even miss Portland's winter a bit. On July 15, I saw my breath in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, and yesterday I wore shorts outside. Go figure.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Phone home
We got back Monday and I'm just now finding the time to write. I guess that 14 hours of flying with two young ones temporarily put my brain into spasm. I'll write more about the weekend later, but for now, three interesting, semi-connected gems from Ella...all phone related.
- We buy Lindsay one of those classic Fisher Price phones, with the red plastic receiver and the dial that "brrrr-rings" as you turn it. Same old toy, except the cord is crazy short now, probably for liability reasons. Ella had one when she was litte, but upon seeing it a few weeks ago...she wants to know how to dial it. This kid has never seen a phone without push buttons. Any muscle tone I had in my right arm during high school was from dialing a dial phone...or maybe other things I don't want to discuss in case my mom is reading. But I digress...I couldn't believe Ella was unfamiliar with this type of phone.
- At the airport last Thursday, Ella observes "look at all those phones over there." I say, "yeah, you don't see pay phones much anymore" and she says "what's a pay phone?" Again, something so obviously generational -- nobody uses payphones anymore because they have their own personal cell phones and they don't need to dig up 10 cents (now 25? 50?) to make a call on a phone they hope isn't covered with snot or another mystery fluid on some street corner.
- I call Ella tonight and she explains her distraction by saying with great nonchalance: "I'm checking my messages." I say "you mean on the old [inactivated] cell phone that your mom gave you [that Ella carries in her "purse"? how many messages do you have?" "96" she replies. "But I forgot to check them yesterday." So my 5-year-old daughter has 96 make-believe messages -- "mostly from friends" -- on an old cell phone AND she's just sure it's partly because she forget to check those make-believe messages yesterday. I mean, pretend voice mails do pile up, you know!
Off to bed. I'm staggering through work this week -- too old to handle the jet lag anymore. And then my pal Dave was in town -- shout out to Dave "Lychee" Mello from Jamaica Plains, Mass. Thanks for stopping by!
Happy Vets Day to all.
Ella, Lindsay and cousin Cece, below.
And this is what happens to a pumpkin when you leave it outside for a week and it rains a lot.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
It all adds up to anxiety
Baby with second tooth coming in + Baby nearly ready to crawl + Baby with a bad case of the wrigglies + 5-year-old who needs some entertaining - tired, anxious parents x 6 hours in a plane x lap child status for the aforementioned baby = ???
1) An enjoyable family outing across the country, full of eye-opening surprises
2) Hundreds of disgruntled fellow passengers, who've had their fill of us
3) Some of both of the above
I'd settle for #3, because that at least involves some good parts.
Well, anyway, we're off to NJ in the morning for my grandfather's memorial service. We'll get to see extended family, including my two little "brothers" -- ages 4 and nearly 2. Yes, Ella has two uncles who are younger than her, but no, surprisingly enough, my father and his fourth wife don't live in either Arkansas or Mississippi. It's a long story.
We have packed way too much for a five-day trip that really only includes three full days on the ground...but it's hard to pare down when you are traveling family style. Baby clothes are small...it's the rest of Lindsay's crap that takes up so much blessed room! We've got monitors, and birdie-music-crib things, and backpack carriers, and stroller, and car seat, and toys, and so on. Ella is a more experienced traveler -- she arrived from her mother's with a packed backpack and a purse that includes a wallet (old credit cards inside), an old cell phone, mints, gum, writing implements and an actual real $20 bill. Still, her entertainment needs take up some space too.
I'll let you know how it went once we return next week. Until then...only 7.5 weeks of shopping time until Christmas!
1) An enjoyable family outing across the country, full of eye-opening surprises
2) Hundreds of disgruntled fellow passengers, who've had their fill of us
3) Some of both of the above
I'd settle for #3, because that at least involves some good parts.
Well, anyway, we're off to NJ in the morning for my grandfather's memorial service. We'll get to see extended family, including my two little "brothers" -- ages 4 and nearly 2. Yes, Ella has two uncles who are younger than her, but no, surprisingly enough, my father and his fourth wife don't live in either Arkansas or Mississippi. It's a long story.
We have packed way too much for a five-day trip that really only includes three full days on the ground...but it's hard to pare down when you are traveling family style. Baby clothes are small...it's the rest of Lindsay's crap that takes up so much blessed room! We've got monitors, and birdie-music-crib things, and backpack carriers, and stroller, and car seat, and toys, and so on. Ella is a more experienced traveler -- she arrived from her mother's with a packed backpack and a purse that includes a wallet (old credit cards inside), an old cell phone, mints, gum, writing implements and an actual real $20 bill. Still, her entertainment needs take up some space too.
I'll let you know how it went once we return next week. Until then...only 7.5 weeks of shopping time until Christmas!
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
And so it begins
On my way to work this morning, I saw the official Giant Christmas Tree of Pier 39, San Francisco's Cheesiest Tourist Destination, lying on it side in a tractor trailer. Preparations to erect said tree appeared to be in full swing. At least they waited until November...but I don't think I'm quite ready for Christmas stuff yet. Can't we get past Thanksgiving first?
Halloween in our neighborhood was quite a scene. We took Lindsay out for a walk to check out decorations and see some friends. We live half a block from Alameda's version of Christmas Tree Lane...um, oops, PC police say Holiday Lane. They go crazy over Christmas...more on that at the appropriate time. More and more, they also go all out for Halloween: scary dudes in costumes, smoke machines, lights, movies projecting on sheets in front windows, a "hanged" man swinging from a tree in his front yard via some kind of harness and handing out candy, etc. And somehow word has gotten out about this scene here and in other parts of Alameda, because carloads of kids are brought in from Oakland and the surrounding area.
We kept the house dark this year due to a small baby and an antsy dog, but in past years we've easily run out of candy after an hour or so. Around the corner, I witnessed lines of kids 1o or 20 deep waiting to get candy from doorways. There's no tradition to it -- you know, the knock at the door or doorbell, and you open the door and small kids in cute/scary costumes say "Trick or Treat" in unison. No, this spectacle was more assembly line, adult hands repetitively dipping into 20 lb bowls of candy and dropping the goodies into outstretched bags. It's a business transaction. Bah humbug.
But my kids are still cute! I'll post a picture of Ella once I track one down.
Update! Got the photo. Quality is mediocre...but damn, what an awesome Cinderella she made. Makes me proud...and also sad that I missed it. One of the challenges of being the non-custodial parent.
Halloween in our neighborhood was quite a scene. We took Lindsay out for a walk to check out decorations and see some friends. We live half a block from Alameda's version of Christmas Tree Lane...um, oops, PC police say Holiday Lane. They go crazy over Christmas...more on that at the appropriate time. More and more, they also go all out for Halloween: scary dudes in costumes, smoke machines, lights, movies projecting on sheets in front windows, a "hanged" man swinging from a tree in his front yard via some kind of harness and handing out candy, etc. And somehow word has gotten out about this scene here and in other parts of Alameda, because carloads of kids are brought in from Oakland and the surrounding area.
We kept the house dark this year due to a small baby and an antsy dog, but in past years we've easily run out of candy after an hour or so. Around the corner, I witnessed lines of kids 1o or 20 deep waiting to get candy from doorways. There's no tradition to it -- you know, the knock at the door or doorbell, and you open the door and small kids in cute/scary costumes say "Trick or Treat" in unison. No, this spectacle was more assembly line, adult hands repetitively dipping into 20 lb bowls of candy and dropping the goodies into outstretched bags. It's a business transaction. Bah humbug.
But my kids are still cute! I'll post a picture of Ella once I track one down.
Update! Got the photo. Quality is mediocre...but damn, what an awesome Cinderella she made. Makes me proud...and also sad that I missed it. One of the challenges of being the non-custodial parent.
