the most beautiful thing in all the world

Dylan,

It's Christmas morning. We've been hanging out together, wrapping Mommy's secret presents before she gets up, and diligently exploring your toy collection.

You are the most beautiful thing in all the world.

Dad

uncle james

giddyup.

Can you use that in a sentence?

Dylan,

You just combined two signs for the first time. You were signaling "more" and pointing to the sink. I picked up the empty sippy cup to see if that's what you were trying to indicate and you responded by repeating "more" and promptly adding "milk" with both hands.

Dad

frog legs

Dylan,

You used to pull your knees up when I took you out of the bath. I'd hold you in the air for a minute, curled into a ball with your feet crossed, and let some of the wetness drip away before I wrapped you in a hooded towel. Lately, you've been stretching your toes down towards the water as I lift you out, like a bullfrog coming off a lily pad in slow motion, and then trying to splash water around with your toes at the last second.

You're a little harder to manage when you're stretched out a full 32 inches.

Dad

molars

D-bob,

You've got molars cuttin'. Painful. We've discovered Little Teethers Oral Pain Relief Gel for Infants and Children. It's Orajel w/o some of the extras, like saccharin. (C'mon, Orajel, saccharin?!)



Just like before, you're nose is running like crazy and you have an occasional fever.

Dad

ps: Here's a closer look:

den animal

Dylan,

If indeed you once had ancestors roaming the Eastern Sahara, I'm fairly convinced they weren't of the tree-dwelling kind. More likely they were some sort of canine, or another kind of den animal.

Since you first developed locomotive tendencies you've been a fan of squeezing into nooks and crannies, even being more comfortable curled up against the side(s) of the crib than stretched out in the ample space available.

After dinner tonight you tried to climb into an empty styrofoam container that carried take-out chinese (white rice, actually) as it lay sprung open like two joined squares on the floor, all of two inches deep. It was a squeeze, for sure and surprising, frankly, that you'd even recognize it as something into which you might just barely fit, as you did.

Instead of a big-boy bed we might have to eventually get you a dog house.

Dad

controlled descent

Dylan,

At about 30 inches, our bed is pretty tall. But that hasn't stopped you from learning how to climb off the bed on your own. On your tummy, you turn your feet toward the edge of the bed and let yourself sliiiide down off the side. You land feet-first but it hardly slows you down on your way to whomping your butt on the floor. Then you scramble along to wherever it was that you were headed.

Dad

la lengua

Dylan,

You've discovered your tongue, and it fascinates you. For days now you've been rubbing it along your existing teeth (still just the six) and wagging and staring at it in the mirror while you're in the bath.

Sometimes it's Jordan-esque, an absent-minded by-product of focused concentration, and other times it reminds me of a stodgy old woman I used to work with who had a tick of sorts and would stick out her tongue uncontrollably when she got animated.

Self-discovery is a good thing. There'll be plenty more of that in your future.

Dad

rubber ducky

Dylan,

One of your rubber duckies is a sqeak toy, so it has a hole at the bottom for air to travel through. After some active duty at bathtime, the ducky has usually taken on a fair bit of water (and sometimes we fill it up even further, just for fun). I like to hold the yellow waterfowl aloft and sqeeze the water out, shooting it into the tub in front of you. Always fascinated by this, you'll usually reach out with both hands in the water stream, slowly grasping at it with each hand in turn until the source runs dry. Yesterday, you took a new tack, leaning forward and sticking you nose in the falling water. And then you tried to drink. We're talking dirty bathwater here, D. That's gross.

Dad

dancing boy

Dylan,

We've gotten into a routine of feeding you your dinner and then having you watch a Baby Einstein video while we eat ours. You like to get as close to the TV as you can, so we buffer it by putting the IKEA footstools in the way. You often stand up against them, your hands rested flat atop the stools, entranced by the images onscreen, and quite often you'll do a little side to side dance to the accompanying music. It's fabulous to watch from the table.

Dad

102.9

D,

You established a new Personal Record (PR) for body temperature the other day, nearly hitting one hundred three degrees.

We stripped you down and cooled you with wet towels while you drank your nighttime bottle. Then we put you to bed.

You seem to be over it today, although you still have a bit of a wet cough and we're just noticing tonight that your tongue is very white. It even seemed to catch your attention, as you were sticking out your tongue and investigating your mouth in the mirror tonight while you were in the tub.

Could be Thrush, which could also explain your recent poor appetite and really bad breath.

Good thing you have a dr. appointment tomorrow.

Dad

sick day

Dylan,

You're sick again.

It was predictable enough. Remember how all those kids were crying at school the other morning? It was pretty clear that at least two of them were too sick to belong there. And since one of them was your best bud Dylan J., the chance of you getting exposed was 100%. He was so wiped out and dripping with snot that he couldn't even screech a response when you screamed your hello.

You had a pretty bad last night yourself, coughing a lot and crying for a good while sometime between 2-3am. In the morning, your temperature measured 99.6 degrees and your eyes were glossy. I agreed to work from home the first half of the day and then let Mommy take over when she finished her half-shift at the hospital.

I didn't get any work done.

What I did get, though, was some pleasant time with you. You weren't much for eating, even though we tried three times. After a decent morning nap (that you were verrrry slow to come fully out of) you sat on my lap on the living room floor and watched Charlie Rose interview Jimmy Carter. It was special because you were so still and so content, enjoying the incomparable comfort and protection of a daddy's giant limbs wrapped all around you. When I rested my cheek and then the underside of my chin on the top of your head, you rotated your head slowly side to side for a while, not taking your eyes off the TV, exploring the sound and sensation of your thin blonde hair twisting into a mess.

After a while, you brightened up and we had a lot of fun laughing, chasing, and tickling before Mommy came home.

Dad

separation anxiety

Big D,

I'll sure be glad when Miss Shirley, your primary caregiver at school, comes back next week from her carpal tunnel surgery. The place is much more chaotic (especially in the morning) without her.

We arrived at school today to find half the kids in tears. You were okay when I set you down, but the room was too electrified and in just seconds you were melting down with the others.

After I finished labeling and putting away your food I sat down on the floor with you and let you sit in my lap for a while, where you were content to quietly watch the goings on. It's our typical book-reading position; Me sitting cross-legged and you plopped down in the well, feet dangling, facing the same direction.

Eventually you crawled off my lap and started playing. You didn't go far. And I stayed where I was, for a while envying the other adults who got to spend the day here. I tried to sneak out of the room when you weren't looking, but you heard my voice when I answered someone's question about which clipboard your daily status sheet should be attached to.

You scrambled over and grabbed the bars of the gate I had passed through, crying loudly and then reaching, reaching, reaching. I touched your hair, waved good-bye, and left you crying as someone picked you up to get you started on your day.

Dad

blinko

Dylan,

Grampa Joe taught you to communicate using a slow, two-eyed blink. It's terribly cute and you love to use it when you're strapped into the highchair and looking for interaction.

Unfortunately, it almost instantly came to remind him of a neighborhood kid he grew up with who got a lot of teasing for an unfortunate facial tic.

Dad

Cocaine

Dylan,

A few months ago we noticed that your pupils are not always the same size in both eyes. We talked to your doctor, who referred us to another doctor, and we scheduled an appointment with a pediatric opthalmologist.

And we waited.

"Anisocoria" he said. A condition that exists in 20% of the population and just meaning your pupils aren't the same size, "Probably no big deal." But just in case, he referred us to another doctor, a neurological opthalmologist. This guy is so specialized that he's only in the office once a month. Fortunately, we got on the schedule for his very next visit, Dec 13. I say "fortunately", because the thing we needed to check for was a possible tumor on your optical nerve or somewhere nearby that may prevent one eye from functioning correctly and we weren't ready to wait another six months.

Becoming a Dad means having a lot more things to worry about. A little boy like you needs so much in order to grow up healthy, happy, and strong. Many of these things are easy, or at least simple. A few are hard. Some I can only guess at and hope I get right. There are other things too. Things already determined, beyond a father's hope to longer affect. You simply are who you are, D.

So, we got a call back from the original specialist -- the pediatric opthalmologist -- he's done some research and wants to bring you back for a test. It's a test both Mom and I had read about while looking into Aniscoria ourselves. It involves having a cocaine solution dropped into both eyes and observing the pupillary reactions. Well, you just had that test yesterday and the results were excellent. Your anisocoria is of the idiopathic variety and harmless. Whew.

Dad

step one

Dylan,

you took a step last night. Maybe THE step. I guess we'll never really know. You were standing against the couch playing with a three-dimensional star-shaped block that fits through a special star-shaped hole in one of your many many battery-operated noise-making toys. I was crouched down near the floor just a couple feet away, if that, talking to Mom when you turned from the couch, walked over and grabbed my knee. "He just took a step" said Mom, or something a lot like that. It was true, you had not just shuffled your feet and then switched your hands to a new support structure, but had actually turned and taken a step, unsupported but by the floor, over to be closer to Dad. I put your toy back on the couch. You took a look, turned, and stepped back to the couch to pick it up.

Dad

Update: The next day you took two steps over to Grandma!

rollicking

big eater

Dylan,

When I picked you up from school today they told me that you had eaten all the food we sent for the day, plus a whole extra jar of food. I wondered how a big lunch would affect your dinner.

Not how I expected.

You started off your evening meal by finishing up a big jar you'd gotten over half-way through yesterday, then you started on another big jar of veggies and lentils that Mom made. This was the extent of what we had planned for you to eat.

You were also drinking a ton of water.

You eventually finished the veggies and lentils, in the meantime eating a tortilla*, a stick of cheddar cheese* (in-duh-vidually wrapped!), a handful of Oh!s, a half-circle of colby/jack, and a heaping helping of tofu.

You were like a machine.

Here's a clip of you workin' on one of those tortillas you love so much (crank the volume for full effect):



Dad


*~10% dad-tax was exacted

one

Happy first birthday, Son.

Dad

too spicy

d,

I think at dinner tonight you finally caught too large a tidbit of habanero pepper in one of your tortillas. You suddenly started crying and your face turned red as you spat out your food and made it clear there was something in your mouth that you were not happy about. You wouldn't take the sippy cup. After 10 or 20 seconds you were finally inspired by a proffered cheerio to divert your attention and resume eating.

I knew this would happen sooner or later. Those are some serious tortillas.

dad

tag

Dylan,

You've become friends with one of your classmates at school and the two of you entertain the staff with your antics. His name is also Dylan and you guys will spend hours chasing after one another or taking turns stealing a coveted toy.

When I dropped you off the other day you wasted no time at all. You and Dylan J said your hellos and then you scampered away with a toothy smile, pausing after a bit to look back over your shoulder. You still had his attention so you turned and sat, facing him, grabbed a nearby toy and started playing, which was somehow the cue for him to fire up his engines. He zoomed across the floor and made a play for your toy. A caregiver laughed, "they're back at it again -- yesterday they played tag all afternoon."

You have a lot of little "friends" who are really just acquaintances around the same age. This is the first bond that you seem to have selected and cultivated of your own volition.

You are socialized.

Dad

beefeater

Dylan,

You ate pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions for dinner the last two nights, and no small amounts.

Uncle Chris and Uncle Todd are big pot roast fans too.

Dad

punkins

Youtube doesn't do these pics justice, but you might still enjoy 'em:



dad

ween

"No Boob tonight" Mommy announced as she re-appeared after putting you to bed tonight. "I guess last night was the last time I'll ever nurse him to sleep".

The plan all along was to breast feed you for the first year. I don't think we expected our timing to be so good -- tomorrow is one year since your due date.

If I haven't told you so already, seeing you nurse was always precious.

It is a condition of Fatherhood to be excluded from that most essential of relationships. But unique to fathers is our perspective as intimate Third Party. A vantage not unlike the majestic helplessness of witnessing birth, allowing us to appreciate nonetheless a special bond we'll never really understand.

Dad

greens

Dylan,

You're a big fan of green vegetables. It might not last long, but for now you love eating green beans, broccoli, peas, even the green baby foods like spinach & potatoes, or green beans & brown rice.

Mommy and I consider it an achievement.

Even your teachers at school were suprised to see that you would eat the green jarred stuff.

Thanks.

You are a joy.

Daddy

frog names

dylan,

I took the liberty of naming your wall frogs. They are (from right to left) King, Theo, and Conspicuous.

dad

seventeen others

Dylan,

Using just your first and last names, reportedly there are 17 other You's:

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 18 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Dad

ps: I managed to skirt the age requirement question for you (13 years). That probably explains why it thinks "over 99.9% of people in the U.S. named 'Dylan' are male" while we've heard it's a hot new name for girls.

Speaking of names, an interesting bit of trivia we picked up while finding one for you, other than "grasshopper", has to do with boys names becoming girls names. The list of primarily feminine names that used to be primarily masculine includes Ashley, Beverly, Carol, Evelyn, Hillary, Jocelyn, Meredith, Nicole, Shirley, Shannon, and Vivian. The interesting bit here is that historically names only switch one way. There is no comparable list of boys-names-that-used-to-be-girls-names.

It remains to be seen whether our chosen spelling for You is on that same path. Either way, I expect that you'll be happy enough with who you are that it won't bother you anyhow.

Dad

south paw

d-

It's too early to tell, but you seem to prefer your left hand for some things including eating.

I think life is just a little bit rougher for Lefties, but your chances of pitching in the Big Leagues go up considerably.

dad

soy what?

Dylan,

I'm reminded again that you are a native Californian. You love tofu.

Not only will you gobble down surprising amounts of the Extra Firm variety, but you'll eat it straight outta the box, unprepared save for cutting it into pinchable little cubes.

Last night I broke open the package of Tofurky Italian Sausages Mom bought recently. Perhaps a bit too spicy, I wondered, but it was no problem for a kid with a Sun-Dried Tomato & Habanero tortilla habit.

I'm glad you liked it, 'cause I think it otherwise had a date with an expiration, if you know what I mean. In fact, you made it clear that you preferred the sausage to the couscous and veggie mixture you had gotten almost half way through already, and porked out on sausage for the duration.

Dad

ps: Can you tell which one is the Tofurky? ;-)

fool-proof?

D,

You've managed to figure out the "child-proof" latches on the kitchen cabinets faster than I could. I'm still routinely found tugging on this or that cabinet door only to be quickly and soundly rejected with a "thunk" by a combination of my own(!) handiwork and some too-well reinforced neural pathways, each time reminded of said handiwork and said pathways. Meanwhile, you're crawling over to a cabinet, standing up and opening the door a crack before pulling the latch down and... voila, access!



Seven weeks. You've only been home from vacation since the beginning of last month. These things were supposed to have you stumped waaaay longer than this. I don't know how long, just waaaay longer than this.

Sheesh.

Dad

desktop

Dylan,

Every parent thinks their child is the most beautiful ever, but not every parent gets to enjoy the consensus view that their child is a phenomenally, exceptionally, amazingly cute little boy.

And it doesn't hurt that you know how to work it for the camera.

Mommy has this picture on her computer desktop and it brings a smile to her heart every time she closes that last open window.



Dad

side sleeper

Dylan,

You are never more precious, more beautiful, than when you're fed, bathed, pj'd and falling asleep in someone's arms.

Over the last several weeks you've solidified your preference for rolling onto your left side to sleep after we put you in your crib at night. Mom has gotten especially good at putting you down on your side. When I try, you keep rolling all the way to your tummy and start crying.

Last night (it was Mommies Night) I gave you a bottle and held you for a little while before putting you down. You started to cry as I left, even standing up in your crib, but I just closed the door and went to find the baby monitor. I didn't make it five steps before you stopped crying and settled yourself in for the night. You were still asleep 11 hours and 45 minutes later when I left for work.

Dad

comings and goings

Dylan,

I love dropping you off at school, and picking you up too!

You're excited to get there in the mornings. Today you let out a squeal and a wiggle when the front door beeeeeeeped in affirmation of the security code I entered. You knew that was the signal and just couldn't wait to go inside.

You're excited to go home in the evenings, too. Eager to be picked up, you're always enthralled with the sounds of rush hour traffic from the parking lot.

Dad

likes and dislikes

Big D,

It's becoming clearer which things you feel are worth your time.

Changing diapers is no longer one of them.

But you'll usually sit patiently and listen to a good storybook.

Dad

pointing at reptiles

Dylan,

Mommy recently decorated your room with these fantastic things called "wallies", which are essentially wallpaper decals that can be applied and removed with a wet sponge. You now have three giant colorful tree frogs, a smattering of green leafy accents, and a custom-made dragonfly with purple pipe-cleaner wings mounting your bedroom walls under the ceiling of blue sky and puffy white clouds.

Every time you're in your bedroom -- including every nap or diaper change -- you extend an arm and an index finger insistently toward the frogs. In fact, this morning at 7 o'clock I heard you yammering in your crib and went to get you started on your day. The *instant* you saw me enter the room you jumped up, pointing ardently over the crib rail and across the room, eyes wide, focused and unmoving.

Ordinarily I like to change you first, but Mom had just jumped in the shower so it made a perfect diversion before the normal routine of substituting a fresh diaper and handing you off to The Boob. You stood on the spare bed, dancing across small piles of your own clean laundry, and reached up to touch the frog most accessible, the low one with wide red and blue lateral stripes and a keen eye for the dragonfly.

You love your froggies, and it's wonderful.

Dad

pocket comb

Dylan,

I combed your hair while you were in the tub the other day. I used a simple little black comb that came with a beard-trimming kit. It's just like the comb my dad carried around when I was young, with wide-spaced teeth on one half and narrower spaces on the other.

You were captivated by the experience, desperately wanting to see what was going on. When I showed it to you, you grabbed the comb and immediately pressed it to your forehead, holding it there as if waiting for it to do it's thing. At first I thought I might be reading too much into this, but you put it to your forehead two more times before settling for sticking it in your mouth.

I've combed your hair a couple times now and each time you take the comb, press it to your forehead, pause, then go ahead and stick it in your mouth.

I'm impressed by how quickly you made the connection (very generally) for how this "tool" is meant to be used.

Dad

rough reminder

Dylan,

You (We) had a rough night last night. It took some extra effort to calm you down and put you to sleep at bedtime, but nothing special. Listening on the baby monitor we could hear that you weren't settled in. It sounded more like you were turning over and over again. Then you began to cry. After 20+ minutes I went in to check on you.

You were clearly uncomfortable. I picked you up, but there was no position that suited you. Mom nursed you some more and you went back to bed, but it was only a little while before you were crying again, louder and more forcefully now.

We tried everything we could think of. It was heartbreaking to hold you while you fought to get out of every new position. If we set you down you wanted to be held, but you just kept writhing and crying, so tired and suffering so much.

I offered you a bottle. Twice you pushed it away but on my third attempt you grabbed it with both hands and drained it without pause. And then you went to sleep. It didn't make sense that you would behave like that just because you were hungry, but you were "down for the count" I assured Mom when I crawled into bed, hoping for a good night's sleep before Mom's half-marathon in the morning.

I think I slept almost half an hour before I heard you, again with the sounds of suffering. It gets fuzzy from here. I think I may have gotten another 20-minute nap in my bed at some point but I'm not sure. For a long while we suffered together, searching fruitlessly for any position, action or motion that offered comfort.

I worried we might need to take you to the Emergency Room. It had been hours by now.

I determined/decided that it was a really bad case of gas. I patted your bottom a lot, but if anything that made the screaming and the writhing worse. I held you every which way but upside down by the ankles. I laid you on the spare bed and bicycled your legs which seemed to help --or at least quieted you down several times. I also tried rubbing your tummy and especially your lower back, the latter helping a little sometimes.

On the occasions that you stopped crying and settled in (usually with deep knee bends and big up and down arm swings) you demanded that I remain standing. Over and over I'd sit carefully down in the rocking chair and you would let loose with the howling and the twisting, especially when I'd try to rest my tired arms (still holding you) on a pillow in my lap.

Eventually I managed to sit down. The trick was keeping you tight against my body, which kept steady pressure against your tummy. Along with, of course, all the right jiggles and swings. I fell asleep with you in my arms and slept for almost half an hour, then slowly, groggily, and wearily I put you into your crib for what must have been the fifteenth time that night and you let me go to bed. This was 3:30am.

You woke up at 6:30 as if it were an ordinary day. I was up about fifteen minutes later so Mom could make it to her race. She was "this close" to skipping the event to give me a chance to rest. I'm glad she raced 'cause she blew away her goal of "sub-9 minute miles" to average 7:49 per mile (an hour fourty-two and change) on a beautiful sunny October day.

The night reminded me what rough nights with a baby can be like, and how glad I am that you've been such a successful night sleeper.

Dad

eleven

Dylan is eleven months old today.

We celebrated by buying some size 4 diapers. The size 3's just aren't up to the job on the night shift anymore.

He's getting better at standing. He was so engrossed in the stuffed Western Meadowlark from Uncle Joe the other day that he let go of the footstool and stood playing with the bird for a full 20 seconds. As soon as he realized what he was doing he reached for support.

Dad

Power Poles

Dylan,

Today for the first time we took the steep route to the top of the PG&E trail. 52 minutes up, 31 minutes down the other side.

That hill climb was a spiritual experience. I was glad having you with me.

There is something about the labor of running (and pushing a stroller) up a long steep hill that focuses and quiets the mind like few things can, drawing all attention to the rythmic details of the requirements: breathing, striding, persevering, while freeing it of the usual random, transient brickabrack.

The quiet, focused mind gives rise to the soul.

Stripping away the plaque, blowing out the sludge, and burning the grimey build-up off my immaterial faculties, it reminds me in the starkest and surest terms of who I am.

Dad

yes, that is...

...a cigarette butt!



You can't stop him. You can only hope to contain him.

camelbak

Dylan,

You've learned how to drink from a CamelBak. Your six existing teeth are just perfect for the Big Bite Valve system.



Mom thinks it's awesome. If they made 'em in your size, I think you'd be getting one soon.

Dad

apple

Dylan on vacation learning how to eat an apple:





A number of August posts have been updated with matching pics.

Dad

balance

buffet

Dylan,

We took you out to Fresh Choice for dinner tonight for the first time. Yes, you made a considerable mess on the floor for someone else to clean up. You also ate like a champ. Mom put a whole mess of things out on the tray for you to sample and you just grabbed one indiscriminate handful after another and shoved it toward the back of your throat.

You ate Jello (Mom didn't take into account how much you like to sqeeeeze your food to make sure it doesn't get away!) You munched on a long piece of honeydew melon. When it got down to about an inch and a half it disappeared. I found it a little later resting on your far shoulder.

The real stunner of the night was the bread stick. We had given you the last little piece of mine and after a couple of funny looks, you took to it. It seemed a perfect food for you to learn how to use those teeth of yours. Mom picked up a new one so you could have a little more. I joked about you eating the entire thing. Oh, what a ridiculous notion that was, ha ha ha. Not. We kept feeding you other things --like meatballs-- as you finished off section after section of breadstick. You ate everything but the little bit that fell on the floor.

Someday when we're visiting Uncle Charlie, he and I will regale you with stories of all-you-can-eat buffets from our youth.

Dad

slide

Son,

You went down the slide today on the new play structure in the back yard. I set you at the top and you cruised down to meet me, riding the humps with a quiver and a thrill.

Dad

toy toss

Busy D,

You've learned how to throw things over your shoulder.

We keep two plastic bins of toys in the living room on the side of the rug that demarcates your play area. Often now you'll scramble over, rear up on your knees keeping one hand on the edge of a bin and start pulling out toy after toy. The selection process is quick and definitive. Anything less than the right toy for the job is unceremoniously hefted over your shoulder and dropped, descending into apparent oblivion, as far as you're concerned. Unblinking, you do not waver from the task at hand, though rejected toys may pile like mountains at your heels.

Dad

knock knock

Dylan,

You woke me up by pounding on the wall this morning. I hope that was a coincidence.

You were also especially happy. Probably had something to do with this being the first day in a while that you didn't have a poopy diaper waiting to be changed. You then played by yourself for a long time, waited patiently through another diaper change (bingo!) and a change into your school clothes, and continued to occupy yourself with the toys in your room until Mom was ready to go.

What a great kid!

Dad

five dollars

D,

You have a new play structure standing in the back yard. Nana bought it for you at a garage sale. It's a multi-colored three-walled plastic unit with two floors and a slide. You're not in sufficient control of your body (nor sufficiently afraid of falling) to be cut loose on the thing, but Mom took you out to play on it yesterday and you loved it.

Dad

reading circle

Dylan,

When I arrived to pick you up from school yesterday I found you sitting quietly and attentively in a small circle of your peers listening as someone read a story. It was as if you had aged a year that day.

Dad

marathon

Dylan,

Thanks for putting up with long stroller rides.

Your imminent arrival last year inspired me to improve my health and fitness. I started eating better in an effort to lower my cholesterol, and ended up losing a bunch of weight. Then somebody "invited" me to do a marathon with him this Fall and I took up running. Again.

Now Mom and I are both doing long workouts on the weekends, and often enough that means you're along for the trip. That means you sometimes have to hang out in the stroller, napping and sight-seeing, for hours at a stretch.

Today you hung tight for two hours and five minutes while the whole family ran 14.5 miles together on the Creek Trail.

Thanks again,

Dad

millenium

Dylan,

Last night we went out for dinner to celebrate Uncle Marc's birthday at Millenium, a fancy upscale vegetarian restaurant in San Francisco . They had a high chair waiting for you.

Mom and I were able to keep you pretty much engaged, mostly by feeding you constantly. You ate your baby food, some cheerios, some red beans from my dinner plate, and some lentils from Mom's. And before any of this you ate practically the whole bowl of green lentil spread that came with the bread (don't worry, we got a second bowl). Mom and I each took you outside for a brief break-- me before the main course arrived and Mom before dessert-- just to head off any potential meltdowns. You absolutely loved the nightlife in The City. We stood just outside the front door and you soaked in the lights, the people, and the action. Passers by stopped to tell me you were beautiful, or to tell me about their own kids and the wonderment of procreation. You flapped your arms and legs in excitement as you found one thing after another to focus your attention on.

Inside, another guest from a nearby table stopped to tell us how incredibly well-behaved you were. She said her 5 yr-old doesn't behave as well in restaurants and never had. That was nice to hear.

Dad

busy d

Dylan,

The folks at school say you're "busy". Always scrambling hither and yon, playing and exploring. It's really nice to know not only that you've made yourself comfortable in those new surroundings quickly, but also that you're especially inquisitive and high-energy in the eyes of people who have a lot more data to compare you against than do I.

You've also bonded very quickly with Shirley (your primary caregiver at school). When you got tired, you'd fuss when she left the room, and settle down when she returned.

Fostering your ability to build trusting relationships was high on our "Parents' To-Do" list. Check.

You also didn't cry when we left you there Monday morning, and didn't cry for Mommy until you saw her through the window when she came to pick you up in the evening.

We're off to a very good start.

Dad

spicy

Dylan,

You really like eating flour tortillas. Especially the "Organic Sun-Dried Tomato and Habanero Pepper" variety.

Nice.

Dad

End of Summer

It's been a long season for us but now it ends. Not just Summer, but Cheryl's Maternity Leave and Dylan's days at home with Mommy. She goes back to work today and he goes to school.

It's good that he has no real concept of the passage of time.

Dad

school today

"6:40, no poop; Woke up in a good mood"

Such was the mental note Mommy made on the morning of Dylan's first day of "school".

Dad

teddy bear

Dylan,

You bonded with your first teddy bear. You have a variety of bears and other stuffed animals that you received as gifts, mostly before you were born, which have primarily served as room decorations because we kept your crib clear of toys for so long. Your bear of choice seems to be the one Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Todd made for you. It probably has a name already, but I can't remember what it is.

Dad

angry face

Dylan,

You gave yourself an angry look the other day when I was holding you in front of a big mirror. It was a face I hadn't seen you use and you seemed to be directing it at yourself (although you haven't caught on to the whole reflection thing).

Dad

Ten

Big D,

You're ten months old today.

As I said to Mom yesterday, we're a good five percent of the way there. ;)

Dad

neighbors

Dylan,

Tonight after I got home from work I took you next door where I could hear Emma(4) and Ian(2) playing in their backyard. Emma invited you to sit with her in a little inflatable boat, then got out to find and bring you a string of toys to sample. You did very well with a large plastic shovel and were content enough to stay in the boat that I was free to play some (form of) baseball with Ian.

Emma was very pleased to have "Baby Dylan" over.

It was a good visit. We didn't leave there until 7:00 but we got you fed, bathed, nursed, and asleep by 7:58.

Good night, d.

Dad

holding your own

Dylan,

When you were a very little boy I enjoyed feeding you a bottle. I always tried to do my share of caring for you and the bottle helped me overcome the biological handicap Fate deals to all dads.

But sometimes it was a pain. To hold you and hold your bottle for you meant I didn't have any surplis capacity for other important things, like grabbing the remote control or scratching my nose. Many were the feedings that I reminded myself that one day you'd be able to manage a bottle on your own.

Ta da! That day has come. And it's a good thing, too because when you start school next week it will be required of you.

At home we can lay you on the floor with your head propped up a little on the boppy and you'll hold your bottle with both hands and drink it down while watching Baby Einstein.

Dad

school

Dylan,

We've (read: Mommy) picked a daycare for you to attend when Mommy goes back to work next Monday. She's been trying to soften the blow by acclimatizing you to the new environment. Two or three times this week she brought you in and hung around for an hour or two while you sat in. You're apparently taking it in stride, very happy to be there and to play with other kids. We'll see how it goes when there's no Mommy around when you go lookin'.

To reduce confusion with the baby-sitting service at the gym, which we've always called "daycare", and to help build positive associations with the word, we're calling the place "school".

We've requested that your "primary caregiver" at school be the lady who sings all the time. We think you'll like that.

Dad

sickness

Dylan,

You got sick for the first time. You threw up all over the couch just about as soon as Mommy was done feeding you. Then you threw up again later all over your crib. It splattered everywhere and was even dripping down the wall.

You were obviously not yourself that day. You were very subdued and tired-looking. You had gone a pretty long time without holding any food down. You'd never gone so long without taking advantage of your Huggies' super-absorbant properties. You were extra cuddly, especially with Mommy.

We gave you two ounces of water, and you held that down. Thirty minutes later, another two ounces. Continuing on the half-hour, next went down two ounces of PediaLyte, two ounces of half-strength formula mixed with PediaLyte, two ounces of regular-strength formula and then a healthy nap. I could hear the liquid sloshing in your tummy while I rocked you to sleep.

Over the next coupla days you got steadily and progressively better, although you did spit up several times which (although it was once your signature move) has been very rare of late.

Dad

new generation

I am my father.

I got a picture in the mail the other day. It's a blown-up black-n-white image of my dad and myself at the beach when I was very small. I'm not sure how old the Me in the picture is -- old enough to stand, with support -- but probably eight to ten months, or right around Dylan's age now.

This picture is a wonderful thing to have, but what's especially fantastical about it is how I saw myself in the photo when I slipped it out of its envelope. I knew what to expect. I knew who were in the picture and how it was composed. But first laying eyes on it I saw myself not in the little boy, but in the man holding the little boy steady on a sandy beach in front of a large driftwood log.

I've never looked like my father before, but I'm not the only one who was thrown by the image. When I layed it out on the pool table for Cheryl's folks to see, they looked at it and asked if it was from our recent vacation. I look so much (now) like my father did (then) that we're being mistaken for one another by people who have a damn good idea of what I look like.

Wow.

Dad

hoarse

Dylan,

You've been going through Nap Boot Camp this week.

When it's nap time, you go down, whether you're into it or not. Mom tells me you cried yourself to sleep at both nap times today, but at least you slept well after.

When I came home tonight the sound of your voice made me think you had a cold. Mom explained you were just hoarse from all the crying.

Dad

homecoming

Dylan came home late Saturday night. He flew well, thanks to a lot of work from Mom and a lot of time spent on The Boob. He was up waaay past his bedtime but that didn't keep him from waking up at his (new) normal waking hour of 4am PDT. Dylan ate, then played while I lay on the floor nearby until he said he was ready for a nap a couple hours later and we both went back to bed.

Later Sunday Dylan and I decided to make an impromptu trip to the aquarium. It was about D's nap time and the aquarium is almost an hour and a half away, so he was happy to sleep 99% of the trip. It was a pretty busy day at the aquarium. Probably a lot of families making an outing of their last summer weekend before school starts. I was glad we decided to buy the membership cards after our last visit because I got to avoid the line stretching out the front door and all the way up the block by going through the Members Entrance where there was no wait.

Last time we were there (with Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Todd, yay!) Dylan was thrilled with the marine life. This time he seemed as taken by the evidential evolutionary progress of the many bipedal hominids, their offspring in particular. And his appreciation of shore birds has gone way up since his beach-bumming days in Maine.

I carried Dylan around in the Bjorn for the better part of four hours, minus two diaper changes, three feeding attempts (two successful) and some fun time crawling around the special 'under 3 yrs old' section. I think I have a hernia.

Dad

flight 179

Dylan,

You're flying home tomorrow night. Mom tells me you've been extra-fussy pretty much all week. I'm worried about how rough the flight will be for you since it's an evening flight. You'll be woken by every seat belt *ding* and every comment from the cap'n, and that's only if you manage to get to sleep in the first place.

I'm sorry for Mom that I'm not there to help, but at the same time I'm kinda glad to not have to go through it.

Remember, D: Nice Matters.

Dad

latched

I finished installing latches on all the cabinets in the kitchen. They are very annoying.

Dad

kilter

In an e-mail from Mom:

"D seems a bit off-kilter since Mon...I think he misses you."

I miss you too, D.

Dad

freestanding

Dylan,

You're starting to demonstrate that you can stand on your own with nothing to support you but your own two feet. You will occasionally do this of your own volition in a distracted sorta way when you're focusing hard on some thing, such as a slice of nectarine making its way toward your mouth. More often, you do it as part of the 1-2-3 Game, where Mom will stand you up and start counting out loud after she's let go of you.

Sometimes you fall and she catches you, and you enjoy doing that over and over, falling as if on purpose -- making no real effort to stand. More often though, what brings you down isn't an inability to balance but the realization that you are unsupported. When you recognize this state of things you usually lower yourself down onto your seat. I think it's fair to say that you can stand just as long as you want to -- you just don't wanna.

On the beach Saturday you stood by yourself till the count of 17. Obviously you had something else on your mind.

Maybe we'll have to re-think the name of that game.

Dad

moving furniture

Dylan,

You've developed a real knack for re-arranging furniture.

You've made a hobby of grabbing the wooden barstools on the tiled back porch of the vacation house and pushing them forward and back like you're rowing a boat.

It's noisy and gives you an obvious sense of self-satisfaction.



Dad

playpit

Dylan,

We just got back from a great day at the beach. I dug a hole in the sand and you played in it for almost two hours!

The hole was about 18" deep with a 2' circumference. It was very cylindrical thanks to the high water table and constant bottom-up erosion. I used the sand I'd dug out to build a wall most of the way around the pit, leaving about an 8" shelf for you to hold on to and leave your toys. Mommy took a nap on the beach and you just played and played. You must have eaten tablespoons of sand in the process.

I'm flying home tomorrow and I'm already looking forward to my Anchors getting in a week later.

Dad

applause

Dylan,

You've learned how to clap your hands together.

Dad

ahem

Dylan showed us a new trick this morning. If you clear your throat (or make comparable sounds) he responds with his version of the same.

This was very cute at first, and D even started initiating the reciprocal.

It became less cute when he practiced it so much that he threw up on the floor.

Dad

d be nimble

Dylan,

You can stand up and, steadying yourself with one hand, reach down and pick up a tennis ball with the other.

Two weeks ago you were still at risk of falling back and whacking your head on the floor anytime you were standing up.

Dad

adapting

Dylan,

You cried yourself to sleep this afternoon.

The day's schedule and your very short mid-day nap colluded to leave you over-tired. Mom took you home to feed you and give you another nap but you just didn't want to be put down. Eventually, she did the right thing and left you in your crib to find your own way. After 20 or 30 more minutes of spirited crying, you slept.

It would be nice if we had the time and ability to map all our days around your natural sleep/eat/wake rythms. Since we don't, you're learning to adapt.

Dad

handy

Dylan,

You routinely pick up a tennis ball with your left hand, then transfer it to your right hand to play with it.

Dad

pounding blueberries

Maine is famous for its wild blueberries. I know, I know, the lobstas and clam chowda are pretty well known, too.

We've been eating blueberries at a pretty good clip while we've been here. Dylan especially loves them. He's tried a lot of new foods here including watermelon, pluots, cantaloupe, lentils, cannelli beans, yogurt, oyster crackers and more, but the blueberries have the distinction of an established daily maximum.

Blueberries are, of course, a choking hazard. So we cut them into quarters before giving them to The Boy. Sometimes he'll pick them up himself, cheerios-style, and sometimes we'll feed them to him one at a time. Either way, he'll just keep pounding them down until he gets the "all gone" sign.







Dad

boston

Cheryl went to Boston to hang out with old friend Colleen. Dylan and I played and napped together all day long.



Dad

I see myself

Dylan,

People always tell me that you look just like me or that you obviously take after my side of the family. It's not too difficult to look at the blonde hair and blue eyes and see that you don't exactly look like Mommy, and traits like your skin tone are easily attributed to my mother's influence. When you were first born you reminded me of my own father, and I've since seen hints of (my) Uncle Joe, (your) Uncle Todd, and others here and there, but not myself.

Putting you to sleep the other night was the first time I'd ever really seen what's so plain to everyone else.

I was holding a peaceful, sleeping, little version of me. I was a little surprised, not by the fact but by the suddenness. By the clarity of it.

It reinforced the idea that it's my job to raise you to be a better me than I am. To lean on my strengths, sure, but also to lean on my weaknesses. And my mistakes. To use them all to guide you and to teach you and to provide for you. To get you (at least) one step closer to all that a man might be, given every tool and every opportunity.

Dad

sucking towel

Dylan,

In the bath tub you always want to suck on the wash rag. Rather than fight you for the soapy rag I'm washing you with I routinely give you a separate "sucking towel" while you're bathing. Sometimes I even soak it with cold water first.

You attack it as if you're parched and it's your only water source of the day, practically drinking from the towel.

It's pragmatic because you're much more amenable to having your face washed when you're not trying to mouth the soapy rag all the time.

Dad

tiny dancer

Dylan is a big music fan. Ever since Cheryl enrolled in a mommy/baby music class he's been all about the rythm.

Almost any time he hears music or singing he does a little shoulder roll manouver and sways side to side. It's a little dance that he does to let you know he's diggin' the groove.

Now we sing to him constantly.

Dad

itsy bitsy spider

Dylan,

Your favorite song is The Itsy Bitsy Spider and whatever song is in second place is so far behind as to have faded into irrelevance. You've loved Itsy Bitsy from the very first time Mom sang it to you.

You love it so much that we can use it as a tool to stop your crying. In the carseat on the tail end of a long drive or while your diaper is being changed, if we break out Itsy Bitsy we're always rewarded with a cheerful smile, sometimes even when we leave out the hand motions.

You love it when the rain comes down and tickles the length of you from head to toe, and when the Sun comes out you love to watch it move back and forth across the sky.

This morning you were even putting the fingertips of both hands together during the climbing phases. Very impressive.

This isn't the only song you've heard/seen that has hand motions along with it, but for reasons you'll probably never be able to explain, it is absolutely your favorite.

Dad

toss up

Dylan,

I have memories of my Dad, with his bear paw hands, tossing my youngest brother in the air or holding him in some unconvential one-handed grip. And I remember that while some fretted, I thought it looked like fun for both of 'em.

I was right.

My hands are as long (if not quite as massive) as Grampa Russ' and if you haven't eaten too recently I sometimes grab you by the rib cage and toss you in the air above my head a few times. It's probably the best way to see all your teeth, the way it makes you smile.



Dad

big little boy

Dylan,

Last night after Mommy put you to bed she told me to peek into the Pack 'N Play and see just how big you look when you're fully laid out. I could tell you had been dead asleep when she put you down because every limb was limp and fully extended. It was the first time I ever sensed that you would be growing out of the Pack 'N Play. Your extended toes were all the way to one end and your head extended past three quarters of the length of the thing.

You looked tranluscent in light-blue pj's and what little little light leaked into the room. And you looked huge.



Dad

I am the greatest father who ever lived

Not really.

But I did get a compliment today from someone I deeply respect and it made me feel like I'm on the right track.

Dad

good-bye

D has turned the charm up a notch. A big notch.

He's learned how to wave hello/good-bye to people. He'll do it readily when people wave at him and he loves the interaction.

Of course, everybody gets a thrill out of a super-cute little boy squealing and waving at them.

Dad

signs

Dylan has adapted a new sign for "ceiling fan". He flaps his wrist like he's waving, but he adds a little rotation to it to mimic the movement of the blades. He's been doing it every time we enter a room with a ceiling fan, whether it's on or off.

He really got a thrill when he realized that he could communicate this to other people and elicit a consistent response. He'll sign "fan" and it makes everybody smile and say "fan, fan" and do Cheryl's original sign for fan which is an upwards pointed finger going in a circle.

He's suddenly trying to communicate a lot more with his hands.

Dad

beach boys

Dylan, Grandpa Joe and I went to the beach together yesterday. All the ladies (Mom, Nana, Aunt Sue, and Auntie Em) were out shopping.

We played in the sand.
We splashed in the warm tidal pools.
We chased sea gulls.
Dylan ate sand. GJ and I ate ice cream.

Dad

"dada"

My first morning in Ogunquit (after a night that wasn't as long I might have hoped) Cheryl set the boy on me, "alarm-clock style". He crawled to where I was sleeping, and I knew he was there, but I was tired and I wanted to sleep some more. He whacked me across the cheek and said "dada". I woke right up.

He said nothing else, before or after. I don't know if it qualifies as a word, in the vocabulary sense, but it's officially the first time he's called me by name, and after being away from my boy for a week it was nice to see he still knew who I was.

Dad

daddy pillow

Dylan fell asleep on my shoulder while we were at a family reunion at Foster's Clambake (and lobster, too!). It was very loud with cafeteria-style seating, high ceilings and even live music. He slept 35 minutes. I had just flown all night from SFO but suddenly my food no longer mattered.



It had been a looooong time (in the Dylanized sense of the term) since he had fallen asleep on my shoulder. Months.

Dad

anticipation

D-

I can't wait to see you tomorrow.

Dad

D is a fish

From Mom:

"its hot hot hot...and very sticky...we spent most of the day in and out of the water...D is a fish. water is coooold."




Dad

natural

Dylan,

Know this:

I will always see excellence in you. And beauty. And talent. I will always assume that you will be a natural at whatever you do.

This is not to say that I'll be disappointed in you when you fail (you will, I might) or that I'm trying to hold you to a high standard.

It is to say that I will always believe in you, by default. Always see the most and believe the best. Always.

I will smile when I see you excel, and think "of course".

dad

remember?

Dylan,

I wonder what you will remember. Or if, really. I can't say that I have any memories lingering from when I was 9 months old (or so), but then I couldn't tell you which or when my oldest memories are anyways. I had no sense of time or age at that time and at that age.

So I wonder if you'll remember anything from this fabulous vacation you're on. Will you remember the heat (97F w/92% humidity)? Or the feel of the sand... in your mouth? Will you hold an image in your mind of the tide pools you sat and played in like cool little bathtubs? Or perhaps a gull you stared at, up close, conceptualizing "bird" for the first time?

Maybe years from now you'll have looked at the photographs of you in your special sun-suit with the matching hat sooo many times that the lines will blur -- you'll create memories to match these images. Memories where you'll see yourself from the outside, like those I have of my grandfather and me.

I think if anything you will remember an image of Mom and a sense of happiness.
A feeling of being loved by everyone around you as they joy in a holiday in Maine for cause you won't likely appreciate for many many years: Gathering with distant family, basking in each other's company in the beauty and freedom of summer days away from the routines, the responsibilities, and the compromises of everyday life back home.

Dad

d-proofing

We've been a little behind the curve on baby-proofing the house. We've been pre-emptive on a couple things like lowering the crib mattress at the first sign of escape potential but I've yet to install latches on the kitchen and bathroom cabinets, and our method of blocking The Boy from the entertainment center's acronymous inhabitants gets weaker by the day now that he's able to muscle the footstools out of the way. For this last I've schemed a solution of heavy-duty plexiglass and brass hinges, but schemes alone don't keep a boy safe.

We were fortunately gifted with a couple bags of baby-proofing supplies from a friend with an apparently considerable surplus, and I've supplemented the stockpile further already. I can see why some of the items went unused, and they may remain that way until I pass them on to the next person -- after all, we're not padding this place up like an asylum. At least not yet.

By the time d gets back from his vacation I'm going to have this place all readied. I'm gonna have to.

Dad

oceans away

Dylan,

Congratulations, Dylan. Only eight months and three weeks old and you've set foot in the waters off both the East and Left coasts. You're one wet foot ahead of your daddy, but not for long!

Mom says you enjoyed playing in the surf, chasing the receding waves. She even dragged you around waist deep in the frothy Atlanticness for as long as she could handle and you weren't complaining.

Back on the beach you made repeated attempts to eat the sand, apparently unperturbed by its incredible likeness to... well, sand.

Mom has designs on a really large beach blanket.

Remember Son, that there are still two (or three, or seven, or eight -- depending on who's talking) more oceans out there, and if you should ever get it into your mind that you want to stick a foot in those waters too, there's only one thing in the world that can stop you.

Dad

pictures, then and more then

Feb 23, 2006:

Nov. 7, 2005:

adjusted

Dylan,

Mom tells me you slept eleven hours Saturday night. You're a champ.

Dad

ol' blue eyes

empty

There is an emptiness here at home tonight. It is quiet in a way that feels hollow. I feel the calmness of a void in which time is both fast and slow. Where schedule and routine give way to... nothingness.

It's not that I haven't kept myself busy, not that at all. I puttered about the house this morning before doing an hour and twenty minute run, nearly half of that pushing Liam and Evan (my recompense to Kevin after inviting him on a long run at no notice). I did yard work when I got home, excising some 70% or more of the potato vine (to which I remain allergic) which grows out of control at the corner of the garage. I got a haircut. Shopped at Macy's -- bought a pair of shorts. Went to the bank. Paid bills online. Shopped at Target -- bought another pair of shorts and more baby-proofing supplies. And I tried to shop at Home Depot, but they close at 8pm on Sundays.

It's just never this quiet here anymore. So quiet I could hear when I'd left the hose on outside where I'd watered the hydrangeas. So quiet the rooftop attic fan tricks me into thinking the AC is running. So very quiet that time itself pauses to take notice.

What's missing is a wonderful mother and a beautiful child. A hug and a kiss. A smile and a squeal. My anchors.

Dad

Dylan,

You're learning to recognize the tone, if not the word itself: "No".

We're starting to use it with some effect. I know that soon you will use it to great extent.

Dad

travel update

Dylan,

Mom says you did well on the plane, so long as you were being entertained. You didn't sleep much or eat much solid food, and while Mom and I were talking on the cell phone from the car I could hear you unravelling in the background, but considering a 90-minute-delayed departure before a 5 hour flight, you've exceeded expectations.

Thanks for being good.

Dad

peacemaker

Dylan,

Other parents have told me stories about how hard it is to get a kid off pacifiers, like they're some baby version of heroin. I knew from the first time that Mom wasn't around and I stuck my pinky finger in your mouth in a desperate move to stem the crying, that I was making a deal with the devil- a compromise for which I would surely pay dearly. But it worked, so shortly thereafter I went to Long's and bought your first official pacifier.

You used a pacifier every night to go to sleep and for most car rides in the carseat. Many, many were the times in those first six months that we went to calm you down in the middle of the night and had to hunt blindly around the crib mattress or even on the floor for your paci before getting you back to sleep.

Surprisingly- no, make that amazingly -a couple weeks ago you stopped taking the pacifier at night. Then I realized that you really weren't using it for the car rides anymore either. I'm guessing it had something to do with our change to your nighttime ritual wherein we (read: mom) started nursing you after the bath. It not only knocks you cold with mind-boggling effectiveness, but you started refusing the pacifier when you were done. We were afraid at first that it would mean you'd wake up without it waiting in your mouth, but you don't seem to miss it.

You've fully weened yourself off the pacifier with practically no involvement on our part. If I'd only known making a deal with the devil was this easy...

Dad

Dylan and Mom headed off to the airport this morning (not too shabby for a cell phone pic).

Dad

packing

Dylan,

Tomorrow morning you leave for your first vacation, including your first plane ride, first interstate travel, and first official family reunion. It'll also be the first time you've been without your daddy for a whole week, until I join you for two weeks in the middle of your trip.

Mom has been packing frantically for at least a week. It takes a lot to plan for a month in Maine with a 9-month old, but she's doing a great job and you'll have everything you need and more.

Be good for mommy.

Dad

personali-d

There's more.

Dad

drawers

Dylan,

You seem to enjoy grabbing drawer handles of all kinds. You do it not for the practical value it may offer, but for the pure joy of grabbing on to them. It's like art. You see the inherent value of hand and handle coming together for no other purpose than to unite, and your jubilant smile each time is a celebration in recognition of the event.

Just wait till you learn that's the tupperware drawer you're pulling on.

Dad

range

Dylan,

A wise man taught me to be aware of my "circle of influence". Since then I have always considered this lesson in the context of my career.

Your circle of influence is expanding rapidly, but not so much in terms of the numbers or stature of people you can affect, but by your own physical mobility and its effects on time and space.

You now have the run of the house. By that I mean you can take yourself from any point in the house to any other point (provided the doors are open a crack). Today I watched you crawl right out of your room, down the hall, into the dining room (where you paused to chew on a doorstop), and on to the kitchen. You went right to the only full stack of drawers in the kitchen cabinets and since you couldn't even see them until you got around the fridge, I think you had them in mind from the start.

Dad

wear and tear

D,

You've got big red patches on your knees from all the crawling around you're doing on our hardwood floors.

Dad

did I tell you we got a new camera?

Dad

size-wise

The Boy had a check-up yesterday and was determined to be exactly average. His height, weight, and head circ. were all at the 50th %ile for a 9-month old. Of course, he was only 8 mos + 12 days old, so we'll see what the little fella can do with the next two and a half weeks to set himself apart.

Oh yeah, he's just under 20 lbs (shocking, I know), just over 28 inches, and his head is... well, round and beautiful.

Dad

rise up

Dylan shows us how it's done:



Dad

nicknames

Dylan,

I'm not sure what we'll be calling you by the time you're capable of reading this post, but I want you to understand that there are at least two important rules where nicknames are concerned:

1) One does not choose one's own
2) The more you protest, the more it sticks

So far, to varying degrees, we've called you by these names:

grasshopper (given by Uncle Todd and used predominantly in utero)
bug (mommy's first nickname for you)
D-Y (to remind people how to spell your name right)
D (dad's default when he's speaking to you)
d (dad's default when he's IM'ing with Uncle James about you and g)
Big D (obvious reasons)
little d (obvious reasons)
The Boy (inspired by Uncle Sam's use in reference to Anil's son Amit)
Bubba (given by Aunt Gretchen on her first visit to see you)
Bubbas (with a soft "s", an adaptation that mommy sometimes uses)
Mammas (the root of the aforementioned adaptation's pronunciation)
Nugget (from Dad, used rarely)
d-bob (from a long line of Bob's Big Boy-inspired names, inlcluding steeplebob)
pickle (used when Dad wants to reference that most obvious of nicknames which Mom has banished from use)
BoogerBoy (inspired by the tremendous amount of snot associated with the two front teeth [upper] that are just about to cut; new in the last day or so)

Dad

jeepers creepers

Dylan has traded in his commando-style crawl for full-on creeping, aka 'hands and knees' crawling.

Dad

our baby is gone

There have been a lot of milestones in these first eight months and eleven days and for the most part each can be traced to a single moment, like the first time he rotated his head from side to side or his realization that the toys overhead would move in response to the wild swinging of his arms. When he recognized "up", when he crawled, or when he stood. But this latest milestone was so sudden and so undeniable that it took me by surprise:

Dylan's not a baby anymore.

Of course, he's still incredibly dependent on his mommy and daddy, and may not meet the full requirements for toddlerhood just yet, but he quite literally is his own boy. He sits and plays with his toys, yammering to himself about quantum mechanics and various other undecipherables. When he wants to move, he moves. When he wants something, he tells you. He expresses himself in a hundred different ways. He is engaged with his environment.

I had no expectations for this milestone, in fact it was completely uncharted. Maybe that's why it seems more of a milestone for me than for The Boy. I suddenly realized that I'm no longer The Parent of a Baby (kinda like when I turned 22 and realized "wow, it's a long way up from here") and this identity I had gotten comfortable with was gone in a flash of realization, followed quickly by a new and vague understanding that this is likely the rule, not the exception, and the sooner I get used to it the better.

Father of a Regular Person

Dylan,

I'm sitting in a meeting at work. I miss you.

Dad

ceiling fans

Dylan,

You've spent a lot of your lifetime in reclined or supine positions, which may or may not be a factor in your fascination with ceiling fans. We have two ceiling fans at home, one in our bedroom and one in yours. They have served to distract and/or occupy your attention a good number of times. Sometimes I'll even reach up and spin one with my hand just to give you something to look at while I change your diaper (in your room) or dress you after your bath (in ours).

The fans have never been more useful than lately. See, you're getting bigger. And more mobile. And you've been really putting those facts on display when I get you dressed for bed. You incessantly and insistently try to push my hands out of the way and roll over (99% of the time it's to your right) before I can get you diapered, and if you manage to get around you either want to romp around the bed or climbing up to my shoulder like I'm some sort of escape route to The Boob that awaits. Tonight you grabbed on, stood up, laid your head on my shoulder...and just waited.

This is where the fan comes in. By this point the last thing you want is to spend more time on your back getting pushed, prodded, and snapped, but if I can just get you to notice the fan (which Mommy left running just in case I needed it) you'll forget about all your worries and I can get my job done. Tonight, in fact, it worked so well that it completely reset your mood and I was able to get a few laughs out of you before Mom wisely called out "I don't think you want to be getting him all worked-up right now..."

quarter turn

Dylan,

Every time you sit up you rotate 90 degrees to your left. Your mechanics are very consistent. You plant the sole of your left foot while keeping the top of your right foot against the floor and backing over that right leg, and of course you do this with reckless abandon. You've managed to wedge yourself into spots you can't get back out of, backed up into walls/furniture, and right off the side of the bed, where I let you experience just a tad of freefall before catching you.

Dad

adult supervision

Dylan,

Someday when you want to ride your bicycle around the block by yourself for the first time, or walk to school- alone, or to see a movie of your own choosing with friends I've never met, and you say to me something like: "Dad, I think I'm ready for a little more independence...", I'm going to remind you of the day I left you to your own devices for three minutes and you managed to find and eat an *entire pile* of detritus, debris, and dust bunnies Mommy had conveniently swept into a pile but waited for a more convenient time to vacuum up.

Then what are you gonna say?

Dad

married, with children

Dylan has taken to assuming the "Al Bundy" position while getting his diaper changed.

Disturbing.

Dad

processing

Dylan,

I'm always wondering what's going through your head while you're experiencing life.

Dad

standing o

D-

Yesterday Mommy laid down a blanket on the back lawn where she blew bubbles at you for so long she got light-headed and needed to lay down herself. You quickly recognized her as a jungle gym. You practically leapt to your feet using Mama for support and stared wide-eyed at the bottle of bubble potion a few feet away while pumping your hips like Tom Jones.

After climbing around some you held up both hands and stood, if only for a moment. And to show it wasn't a fluke you re-gained your balance and did it again, raising your hands up near your shoulders and not immediately falling down. Mom and I were impressed with the effort, and I'm almost convinced you knew what you were doing.

Dad

resolution

Dylan,

The new camera is on its way.

Dad

power poles

Dylan,

For the first time since you started joining me on The Rancho Walk seven months ago, we managed the full regular distance and made it all the way to the top of the Power Poles trail. You rode in the B•O•B and I ran (slowly) most of the way up to the vista point where you missed out on the fabulous views because you were asleep.

It's good to be back. And it's good to have you with me.

Dad

standing for something

For the first time today we found Dylan standing in his crib. He was supposed to be taking an afternoon nap but had been crying for 20 minutes instead. After a bit of especially angry crying I decided I'd take another route. I went in and found him standing at the end of the crib, where the rails are highest, crying for all he was worth, tears streaming across his face, and to top it off he had a poopy diaper.

I'm not sure if he was more upset about a nap he didn't want to take or about not having many good options once he was standing up.

Dad

squeaky clean

Dylan just made the jump from the infant/reclined end of his plastic bathtub to the toddler/upright end. Hopefully next we'll break his habit of leaning over the saddle horn to try and drink the bath water.

Dad

eight months

For those keeping track, big d is 8 mos old today.

dad

better than a rooster

Most mornings I consider myself lucky. This is because it's usually Cheryl who gets out of bed to deal with The Boy -change him, feed him, and so on- while I get to sleep longer.

The mornings that I feel most lucky are the days that Cheryl sneaks back into bed and sits the little fella on the covers between the two of us. D doesn't always realize that I'm actually right there, depending on which way I'm facing and whether or not I've moved, but as soon as he catches on he starts waving his arms, rocking his tiny pelvis, and smiling from one king-sized corner to the next. Then he clambers at me, looking for something to grab, whack, or pull until he knows that I'm awake.

Dad

raspberries

One of the most effective early ways we found to make D laugh was to give him raspberries on his tummy, especially just a bit to his left side.

Lately, he's taken to dispensing them himself. He'll go to town on mommy's shoulder, or attack her leg when she's sitting on the floor with him.

It's really cute to see and surprisingly audible. Maybe it's his willingness to drool so much, but I seriously think he's better at it than I. And I'm saying that after having just had a di-rect head-to-head with him, either one of us on an opposing side of Mommy's arm while she held him (I was supposed to be getting his bath ready).

Dad

real food

D's been knocking off a lot of milestones lately. He's even getting himself into a seated position from his tummy (he pushes up to his hands and knees then slowly backs his butt over his heels). The last two mornings Cheryl has gone into his room to find him up on his knees looking for a route over the crib rail.

Today he's eating dinner with Cheryl. Actually eating the potatoes, carrots, and what all from the leftovers we had the other night. I'm assuming she didn't feed him the spicy sausage. He's eating broccoli too. Not pureed stuff, but full-on foliage straight from the farm.

My goodness, what will he be up to tomorrow?

crawling video

Check out Dylan on the move:



Dad

fireworks

Dylan,

You slept through the night on your first 4th of July, fireworks a-blastin' away outside. Nice Work.

Dad

rough night

I knew we were throwing fuel onto the fire, even though we couldn't yet feel the heat.

For the last week or two Dylan has been giving us cues that say "Hey, my sleep/wake rythms are no longer lined-up with this routine we've been using". His naps are more inconsistent, he falls asleep while nursing in the evening (RESPECT THE BOOB!), and doesn't go to sleep as easily after his bath. Worse than those, he's waking up several times a night, sometimes before we've even gotten ourselves to bed.

Still, we packed our weekend full of activities not very amenable to Dylan's adjusted rythmic needs.

The Boy didn't sleep as much as he often does on our Rancho Walk, but he was very well-behaved at our new breakfast place, Tom's Depot, and sat in a restaurant high-chair for the first time.

After breakfast we went to visit Nana and Grandpa Joe. Paul and Elaine were back in town and we hadn't seen them yet. I knew D was tired, and I had imagined he might be willing to take a nap there, but the folks were on their way out the door when we arrived and the house was being cleaned, so we hung out on the patio table until D started to get irritable.

And here comes the gasoline.

Uncle Marc had phoned Grandpa and mentioned that he and Aunt Lisa were hanging out at home watching the World Cup.
I decided to stop by.
Dylan fell asleep in the car (of course) but it's only a five minute drive. I imagined him being tired enough to nap at their place. He slept another 10 minutes after I brought him inside, but that doesn't even count. We got a call from Mommy and found out she had finished her bike ride (48 miles) at a high school just a few minutes away. Soon the whole family was there. It was really nice to visit Marc and Lisa, and to experience their panini-maker, and Dylan put on a little show of his crawling skills for them but he did not sleep.

By the time we left, we had essentially spoiled even his afternoon nap as well. Sheesh.

When I finally put him down for the night he actually sneezed himself to sleep. One sneeze. Out like a light. He woke up a few times through the night, but we mostly left him to cry and he'd fall back asleep.

Sunday morning we went to the Creek Trail for a run. Mommy went farther than Daddy is capable of, so he and Dylan turned back early. Dylan got his first experience on a playground swingset while we waited.

We stopped at the nearby Farmer's Market for pastries, stone fruit, and smoothies.

We got home, showered, fed The Boy, and packed up for a trip to the coast. We had low clouds at our house so we figured the beach would be cold, but the fog had all burned off and the Capitola beach was sunny and beautiful when we arrived. There was a lot of walking involved, but it was a fun trip. Dylan was introduced to the Pacific. It occurs to me now that I'm glad he met my ocean first. It somehow affirms our common roots.

We got him to bed at a decent time, slightly on the early side of usual. He strained against my grasp one instant, and fell asleep the next. We brought the baby monitor next door and watched the neighbors light off little fireworks in their backyard for their 2- and 4-year olds, then we sat in their living room and talked for a while.

Dylan started screaming around 10:30. I went home, calmed him down and put him back to sleep. He woke up again a couple hours later, screaming like he was in pain. Nothing I tried helped. Time for Mommy. Another couple hours, more hard crying. After twenty or so minutes of reaching deep into my bag of tricks, Cheryl came out (I was in the living room now) in relief. And I was relieved. He did a lot more crying as the night wore on, and we did a lot of listening. Cheryl did very little sleeping. It may have been gas pains, it may have been his new (2nd) tooth, but after a day when his naps consisted of a stroller ride and two car trips I knew we were due for some suffering.

Tired Dad

game playing

Dylan created his first game today.

I was feeding him a big ol' helping of rice cereal with some pears mixed in, and after just a few bites he was staring off to either side of the high chair as though disinterested. He'd even swing his eyes high overhead when switching his gaze from far right to far left, avoiding me all the while.

So I started to do the same.

Then I heard a little noise from him and I could tell he was getting a kick out of daddy looking around, as if it's what he was trying to get me to do all along, and finally I swung my face around to see his and he gave me a happy little smile. I held up a spoonful for his smiling face. He opened wide and took a big bite. We went through the little routine again and he took another big bite. Now, this wasn't one of those times when he smiles so big I can sneak the spoon into his mouth 'gotcha' style - he was distinctly smiling then opening wide. And wide like I'd never seen. Tongue out of the way and everything. Again and again. Look around; signal; eye contact; smile; bite. We were both having fun.

He invented a game and I figured out the rules.

We powered through that rice cereal until we had just a couple bites remaining. Then mommy walked in the house and all bets were off. Game Over. Fun while it lasted.

Until next time, d.

daddy

my boy is growing up

What a dramatic change this crawling is!

He suddenly has so much more control over his situation. His 'sphere of influence' is incalculably larger: Now he can travel to the toys, or across the living room to chew on the doormat (yuck!) if only given the chance. He can spin like a compass arrow on his belly, and he can clamber over waist-high obstacles.

There was a pillow resting atop a small nursing stool on the floor. Next thing you knew there was a Dylan resting atop said pillow!

It's wonderful to see so many changes. It makes my heart sing to see him sitting in his play area happily moving from one toy to the next, chewing on this one and rotating that one. And he's very close to figuring out (finally) how to roll from his tummy to his back. He'll have it down within the week I'm sure. Hopefully that'll mean we can take the roll-stabilizer out of his crib and he'll sleep even better.

Way to go, d.

Dad