State Fair 08

I'm big on traditions. And, to be honest, the reason I think I'm so big on traditions is because I work with a high schoolers. As I talk to my students about their memories, about what's important to them, about what they remember about growing up, the traditions of their families and their cultures are what surface. And in a contemporary culture that values the "here and now," fame and financial success above all else, I find traditions to be all the more valuable for their ability to "ground me."

We've got lots of traditions in the Hawkins' home, and now with Grant, our list of traditions continues to grow.

One such tradition is our annual trek to the Indiana State Fair. I love the state fair. I love it because it is so classically Hoosier. The California State Fair is like DisneyWorld by comparison, but I like the small town charm of the Indiana version. I like that there is a huge brick building that has the word "SWINE" in stone letters. I love that the largest pumpkin contest is high on the list of "things to do today" at the fair. I love that you can register for a fishing license right on premises. It's so Indiana.

Last year with Grant was fun, but this year, it was a toddler wonderland. On the way to the fair, he must have said, "cows, sheeps, horsey" 500 times, and the fair did not disappoint. While we didn't have time for the world's largest pig, Grant did get to see baby cows and goats, ride a few rides, eat kettle corn, and play on some tractors. It was glorious.

Here are some pics.

Daddy's trick and WWW Thursday edition

I think Bret has been giving Grant pointers on how to "ignore" Mommy all under the guise of being very interested in the moving pictures on the screen.

My favorite of Grant's words this week: Thomas, James and Percy. Grant is taking after his cousin Aidan because Grant is in love with all things train. This is good news since I've decided to decorate Grant's big boy room (coming this January) in trains (recently bought this decal for the wall). I'm not going to go overboard: this decal, a garage sale rug I bought for 5 bucks and some Thomas the Train sheets for a Christmas present.



Other new words: church. When asked, "Who do we learn about at church?" Grant responds, "Jesus." Melts my heart. Then he responds, "people." That too, I guess. He says every body part, now including tongue, elbow, knee, and just today I heard, "I did it." He can't throw a ball or run with any real skill, but the boy can talk it up.

Wash Me

Last night Erin suggested that it was time to clean out our minivan.

"Oh, and you think I'm brilliant and have movie star quality good looks. Very funny."

"No, really. We should start tonight and finish this weekend."

After checking both her forehead for fever and my shoes for signs of hell going arctic, I enthusiastically agreed with her. Car cleanliness, the bane of many marriages, has always been somewhat of an issue for us.

When we were dating (the timeline of which is also a source of great debate) Erin drove a lovely green Toyota Camry. It was an automatic with a sunroof, 6 cylinder engine, CD changer, and a variety of soups and cracker combinations in the backseat that would make the Golden Corral jealous.

Pair this with a wide selection of slightly moldy Tupperware products, a few empty beverage containers, and a half eaten bag of Golden Grahams, and you get a picture of Erin's Camry. I tried to clean it once, and something under the seats bit me and growled.

In all fairness, Erin does a remarkable job of keeping our house and child clean. Very rarely does Grant smell more foul than his father, so I applaud her efforts. But somewhere in our genetic makeup, women just don't feel a need to keep their cars clean. Our minivan is no exception.

As we dumped the various toys and used-to-be books out of the backseat, we began to notice a multitude of stains on the floormats. A little juice here, a little mac and cheese there. We decided to actually remove Grant's carseat for the sake of completeness, underneath which we found approximately two pounds of partially masticated cookies and crackers.

(In Grant's world, crackers are called cookies most of the time. This is an effort on Erin's part to convince Grant that a Ritz or Saltine is the best tasting cookie-like object on the planet. When she does give him a cookie, I believe she calls it "sugar coated crack.")

There were also remnants of McDonald's ice cream cones and a few socks under Grant's car seat. By this time, Grant was running around our driveway in merely a diaper, so we paused until the weekend. I'm hoping to find an iPod or something I can take on the Antiques Roadshow when we return to the task.

Dancin' Fool

I don't think much explaination is needed.

Finger Lickin' Good

I don't want to hear about raw eggs or anything of the sort. I grew up licking the beaters, and until we have a hospitalization or two... so will my kids.

TV time and WWW

I swear: Grant doesn't watch that much TV. But by the videos below, you might start to question that truth. He loves his dds (dvds), and his favorite thing to do is to carry around an empty dvd case. He'll tell you all about the pictures a thousand times a day. For example, he was carrying around an empty Wiggles dvd case today, and when I asked him about all the character's pictures on the back, he knew them. I died... more mortified than happy.

Here's a video where Grant plays "Name that Tune." He's not too happy with Mommy's singing, as every time I open my mouth, I get a big "NO" from Grant. He's identifying: the Wiggles, Elmo, Bob (the tomato from Veggie Tales) and Boz (that Giant Green Singing Bear).

Here's a video where Grant identifies the characters in his book (Elmo, Zoe, Cookie Monster (which in Grant speak is cous-cous, like the Mediterranean dish, Oscar and Bird [Big Bird]). Notice his favorite toy in his hand: an empty dvd case.

As far as Grant's language skills, they just continue to explode. It is not uncommon to hear any and every word come out of his mouth. We are no longer shocked. He repeats everything (which I don't think counts as "knowing" a word), but then a few days later, he's using the word all on his own. Crazy ones I heard this week: airplane, fox, bubbles, Jesus and Noah (I think he thinks they are the same person?), violin (don't ask... we have a magnet of a violin on our fridge... which Grant pronounces v-lynn), and octopus (pronounced: o-pus). He talks CONSTANTLY, which Bret says he gets from me. I say that it's genetics. I can't wait to see Grant's birthmom again, so she can let us know about Grant's two biological sisters and whether or not they were jabber-jaws.

If the straightjacket fits...

OK, enough with the cutesy Grant crap. Let's get back to discussing his defective parental units. This blog is beginning to edge away from "man, those people are warped...but entertaining" to "awwwww...more pictures of their cute kid burping up lunch...that was funny at first..."

So Erin has had a theory for a long time now that I've got a little of the autism in me. (That's how you say it when you've got a medical defect here in Indiana. "I've got the autism." You might similarly say "I've got the cancer" or "I've got a bit of the fever" as though there's one strain of each disease stalking around our state like the headless horseman.)

Erin based this theory on a number of observations. First off, she worked one summer at an autism camp, and as she told me stories about her autistic campers, a couple of things occurred. For starters, she frequently found herself saying "Wow...that seems just like something you'd do" and secondly, I frequently found myself saying "Wow...I would totally go for that."

For example, she noted that her autistic campers frequently "flipped out" (for lack of an appropriate term) when things strayed from within the boundaries of how things are "supposed" to behave. I suffer from similar freak outs. If Erin leaves me to babysit Grant and tells me she'll be home at 7pm, when she arrives at 8pm with some story about having to stop for gas or be stranded on the highway, she will usually be telling it to me while I sit in the middle of the family room floor, head between my knees, rocking back and forth while mumbling the lyrics to "Paint It Black."

Another example is that we've often heard autistic kids talk of wanting to be placed inside a "squeezing machine" that puts pressure on their sides. If one of these costs less than a small family sedan, you now know what you can get me for Christmas.

I've often watched Erin wrap Grant up in a "baby cocoon" and wished something similar (outside the "nut house") existed for adults. Nothing sounds better to me than sleeping while wrapped up like a mummy. I might even be up for sleeping in a coffin if I could have one delivered without the neighbors seeing it left on the doorstep.

So last night Erin, partly in jest and partly because she wants documentation before having me committed, took a king sized sheet and wrapped me up like she used to wrap Grant up. It was heavenly. She propped my head up on a pillow, and I watched the second half of the Colts game in sheer, 200 thread count ecstasy.

Unfortunately Erin fell asleep during the 4th, and my forehead began to itch. Major bummer not having arms or hands at this point. I also still had my glasses on, which wasn't conducive to going to sleep. A few minutes later, my dessert beer began a-callin' which led to some pretty ugly scenarios. Suddenly my "man-coon" wasn't such a great idea.

I managed to fling my glasses off my forehead and go to sleep unaided. At about 2am, I woke up with my bladder threatening to secede from the union, and my body temperature was approximately 108 degrees. I was suddenly swaddled in hell's blanket. I managed to get free and sprint for the toilet, narrowly avoiding being made to wear a "man diaper" to bed the next evening.

I keep life interesting...right, hon?

To Die For Cute

All Boy

Grant doesn't "mother" his stuffed animals. Sure, he gives them hugs from time to time, but he usually yanks them by the face and throws them as far as he can. He's a boy.

In this same regard, Grant knows the names of his body parts (head, nose, eyes, toes), even his boy parts. We have never called them by some alternate, cutsie name; we've always just called "it" by its scientific name.

Grant can now call it by name as well, but in his pre-polished speech, it doesn't come out quite right. So, instead of calling it by its official moniker, he pronounces it as "pieces," which I guess also applies.

Talking Fool

Here's Grant on our way out on vacation. He talks non-stop and repeats himself constantly. In addition, my new favorite thing he does is when you ask him (what do you want?), he'll look around and go "um" like he is really sizing up his options. If you listen closely, you'll catch it.

Snorin' Man

Here's a video from our vacation of Grant "sleeping." You need to turn the volume up full throttle to get the idea of how bad it is. While seeing the doctor yesterday for his 18 month check up, we decided that Grant should go see an ENT doc, just to make sure everything is okay. He has had issues breathing since birth (the hour after his birth, the nurses called doctors down because they were concerned about his breathing). So, we'll see.

Grant weighed in at 26 pounds (50th percentile) and was 33.5 inches long (85th percentile), and his head was in the 90th percentile. Long, skinny with a big head... and utterly adorable.

More videos to come.

Back Home

Here are some pics from our vacation! We had so much fun just hanging out with Grant away from cell phones and emails all week.

Bret, who has to leave for work during the days, was really excited to see Mr. Personality in action. It's hard when he only gets weekends and evenings to really see how much Grant is growing and changing.

Of course, Grant kept us entertained with all his antics, including serious poops in the pool. A lot of his new words deal with the pool: pool, swim, rope, jump, buoy. He also says "ready" all the time (which he says and then proceeds to stand by the door), and thanks to a dvd (which he pronounces dd) left by some very smart mother and found by Grant in the condo, he says "bop" all the time (which refers to those blasted Canadian doodlebops). Bops is not to be confused with Bob, which is the name of the tomato on Veggie Tales. He likes and says both of them equally.

He also starting calling Grandpa, PaPoo, which I don't quite get. He calls Grandma, Na Na, and he's got a mangled version of Mamaw and Papaw too.

In the end, I was right about that campy Dixie Stampede. Grant loved it. I have never, ever seen him that excited and engrossed. It was worth every penny... and having to eat with my hands just to see him so thrilled.






We've got some really cute vids from the week; I'll try to get those up soon.

Packing In

So here we are on our last full day in Branson. I'm happy to report that we've had a couple of good meals courtesy of Landry's and the Outback (a local restaurant that was supposedly the inspiration for the chain). We've enjoyed the Titanic museum and Shanghai acrobats, and Grant got to ride some more amusement park rides at a little kiddy amusement park. All in all, a good time has been had.

Tonight we are venturing out to the Dixie Stampede. Erin is convinced that Grant will find this highly entertaining. We shall see.

Once we get back to Indy, we'll post a more complete report. In the mean time, I'm off to the pool with Grant. Later!

Branson Monday

First off, I'm sorry that I don't have any pictures to post. As with many resorts, the Internet connection here consists of a single cable modem for approximately 5000 people, so it's dog slow. When we return to reality, we'll post some pictures.

Yesterday was hot. I mean REALLY hot. Heat index put us well over 100. So what do you do when the pavement is slowly melting the Goodyear's off your minivan? You go to an amusement park!

For whatever reason, we decided that Monday was the day to visit Celebration City. It was a lot of fun. Grant got to ride his first merry-go-round and ferris wheel. I was fine on the merry-go-round, despite my disdain for all things equine. The ferris wheel left me shaky. I'm okay with roller coasters at this point, but being suspended at a height at low speed doesn't do much for me. (Erin will assuredly post that I quivered like a little girl. So be it.)

Today we're taking it easy and planning to see the New Shanghai Circus this afternoon. Chinese acrobats won the "what show should we see first" battle. I've been lobbying to see this Shoji character that is so heavily advertised down here. I figure with all these World War II vets down here enjoying their retirements, a Japanese guy on stage with only a violin for protection has to be entertaining.

Branson Part 1

Branson has proven, thus far, to be an interesting experience. In some ways, it's not at all what I expected. In other ways, it's exactly what I expected.

First off, our accomodations are generally very nice. The condo is plenty large, and features a very nice kitchen. In other ways, this place is in dire need of updating. They have a putt-putt course which was built probably 10 years ago and hasn't been touched since. They've got VCRs in all the rooms, but not DVD players. I went to the front desk to "reserve" a DVD player, and they gave me one with the caveat that "the remote was lost." That makes selecting "Play Movie" on the DVD rather tricky. All in all though, the resort has been fine.

I did have to chuckle when I visited the resort "activities center." It was chock full of middle school kids whose parents were off attending the timeshare sales pitch. They were miserable. Luckily they had all bonded together to play various card games. I overheard one kid ask about "Nintendos or other games." He was pointed to a checkerboard and a deck of cards. Another asked about videos and was handed a list of VCR tapes. "There's nothing too recent on the list." No kidding. Another kid inquired about playing the game "Operation." The attendent (i.e. babysitter) offered it to him, but the batteries were dead. "Do you have new batteries?" Noooope. Note to self: Never, ever do this to Grant.

Mornings have been spent at the pool, given that it's been in the 90's every day so far. Grant has mastered jumping off the side into the water, and I hear that last night he managed to master pooping in the pool. The swim diaper prevented us from being escorted from the grounds.

Our only struggle at the moment is finding that memorable restaurant for the trip. Last night we ate at a steakhouse which was very mediocre. This morning we had breakfast which featured more hair than food. I'm doing some research as I type this, and hopefully tonight will be more successful.

I guess the thing I'm most surprised by is the fact that Branson truly is about the shows. There's no big walking district like Gatlinburg, and it's been too hot to really want to be outside. Therefore tonight we may venture out to one of the shows. I'll keep you posted...

Vacationing

Sometimes I lose a battle in our house. I know this is hard to believe, but it's true. Sometimes the loss has a bigger impact than others. A few weeks ago, such a travesty occurred.

We were discussing where to take a "do-over" vacation following our debacle in Key West. Several places were on the list, but we wanted to follow two primary rules. First, the place had to be within driving distance. The second was that it needed to be relatively cheap, given the amount we spent at Taco Bell and the hospital in Key West.

In the end, Erin won this battle, and I now find myself sitting in Branson, MO.

"But you're not over the age of 80" you say. Agreed.
"And country music really isn't your bag" you say. True, true.
"And you don't drive a Buick or carry your own oxygen" you say. Again, all true.

But the fact is that Branson is in the Ozarks, and it is near a very large lake. And it is cheap, and it does have lots of restaurants. And it does have a wide assortment of fake Elvis's and "Jamboree" style shows featuring men dressed as women, all staples of the vacationing experience for me.

I'll keep you posted on how the week progresses. I heard they're giving away handicapped parking tags in the lobby tonight. Gotta get me one of those...

P.S. To my grandparents who dearly love Branson, please take no offense. I'm sure we're going to have a wonderful time, and we look forward to sharing our pictures with you when we return...

Hmmm

Grant just tried to put one of those plastic pronged outlet cover thingys in my nose. He wasn't joking. I'm sure he thought: "I have a two pronged plastic device, and she has two holes right there in her nose. Maybe if I stick this in there, she'll stop kissing me all the time."

And...

I told you my favorite words, but Grant's favorite words for the week are Elmo (Al-mo) and hold which he says all day as he points to everything.

Sprinkler Fun and WWW 3

Grant had his first sprinkler experience a few weeks ago (I've got to convert video now that we have a different camera, so videos are slow in the making), and I think the jury is still out. We have a pool in our neighborhood, but since Grant naps for three hours in the middle of the day, we haven't found time to visit. I'll make sure I grab some video of Grant in the kiddie pool; I hope he's less hesitant than he was with the sprinkler. In his defense, though, the water was freezing!


Here's another sprinkler incident. The zoo (we have a year pass) put in a new sprinkler park. I think it is supposed to be used when really hot outside, not at 10am in the morning on a mild day. Go figure. Grant loved walking around, but when the cold, cold water came out, it wasn't his favorite.


And now, for Wonder Word Wednesday. It's so hard to narrow the field to my favorites because every new word is so cute! It's amazing to me watch Grant pick up language every day; it's mind-blowing to think about his little sponge brain.

So, this week: see ya (which he says after saying good bye); there you go (which he says when asked to put something back in its place); go dog (which he says when he hands you the book Go, Dogs, Go.); bite (just imagine Mommy eating a cookie); read (which English teacher Mommy loves).

But my favorite is when you ask Grant to count: One (which he pronounces "n-one"), six, eight. The same works for ABCs: A, M, O, Z. Too cute!

We're off tomorrow on a Key West make-up vacation. We'll be posting throughout the week, so stay tuned.

The Knot is Tied

A big congratulations to our dear friends Micah and Carter on their recent wedding. We met the couple when Bret and I helped out at their pre-marital retreat at church, and they are so special. We are so psyched for them. Check out their blog here, and if you have time, check out their wedding pictures. They're my favorite (really, of all time!). We love you guys!

Carter and Micah: Let's get together ASAP!

It was fun until...

Bret and I tried our first camping trip as a married couple this weekend. That's right; we have yet to attempt the outdoor living experience. Bret's not a big camper, as his idea of roughing it is a Super 8. With that said, we plopped the kid at Grandma and Grandpa's house and head out with some friends from church to Kickapoo State Park in Illinois. With plans for a long canoe trip on Saturday and plenty of smores thrown in for good measure, we were excited.

And all was good, even through the violent thunderstorms that lasted for hours through the early hours of morning... We were good until after breakfast when, plauged by some "get me out drizzling rain" stomach bug, Bret got sick. And sick again. And sick again. Last time Bret went to camp, in the fifth grade, he had a similar issue, but that time, at least a handful of chili dogs were involved.

So, we packed up (in the pouring rain) a day early and headed home. As it turns out, the rest of our friends were not far behind as there was so much rain that flash flood warnings were issued for the state park.

We'll try again in the fall. If that trip doesn't go as planned, I think our tent might show up for sale at the next garage sale.

Mine

That's right. Grant has learned the dreaded word known the toddler world over. I thought it would come with siblings or daycare, but no, Grant has learned it, uses it, and uses it emphatically.

Grant does not like to be told something is... in fact... not his. He throws a royal conniption. Needless to say, it's been a long morning of retrieving from his grasp things that are not his. Hard lesson, a lesson complete with tears, theatrics and full blown wailing. Got to learn the lesson some time.

WWW 2

Welcome back for another installment of Wonder Word Wednesday!

This week, my favorite of Grant's words or sounds include: tick tock (which he says while pointing at the clock), eyes and nose (which he likes to point to ON ME when I'm trying to get him TO SLEEP, and moon. I also love his "what does a rabbit (or kangaroo) do": he says "hop, hop, hop," but his jumping doesn't leave the ground (it's more the bended knee version of a jump). He also says "boo" for a ghost, and just this morning he said, "juice, please."

But the greatest of all is his word "boz." Now, I know you're thinking that you're not familiar with this word. Well, let me help. Boz is a green bear that lives inside the DVD player and sings and dances from time to time. Well, Grant stands at the DVD player and says "Boz" 50,000 times a day. Most of the time, I have to tell him "no, not right now," which leads to all kinds of tears and objections.

So, there you have it. The life and speech of an 18 month old.

Pee-Yew

For the past couple of years, we've had a brood of rabbits living under our deck. (I don't know the official term for a collection of rabbits. A pack? A flock? A harem?) The rabbits haven't really caused me any concern, other than the bare patch they've chewed into my otherwise crap-tacular lawn. But at a recent neighborhood block party, a couple of my neighbors swore under their breath at me regarding the slow destruction of their backyard gardens at the hands (paws?) of my furry footed friends.

So last week I purchased a product that claimed to repel rabbits, raccoons, and various other sorts of small vermin. It came in a spray bottle of the sort that might contain window cleaner or countertop disinfectant.

After mowing the lawn, I quickly read the directions which indicated that you merely spray the perimeter of the area where the small animals have been congregating, taking special care to soak any areas where they feed.

I also took note of the fact that the product claimed to be "all natural" and would not harm pets or Grants. This pleased me greatly, as I don't need Grant growing a set of horns or an extra leg because I used a toxic rabit repellant on the yard.

I began spraying the area around our deck, carefully soaking the bare spots in the grass where the rabbits chose to lunch. Things were going very smoothly, and I was pleased that the product was so easy to use. Since the product was not toxic, I was not paying much attention to whether it was getting onto my hands or clothing. I also decided that since it wasn't toxic, more product around the deck would be better than less, so I sprayed until my hand cramped from squeezing the trigger.

Just as I began to consider heading in for an iced tea and a shower, I began to notice a rather foul stench. As I began to investigate the source, the stench became unbearable. Literally, I was having trouble containing my lunch as I tried to figure out what I had done wrong.

I grabbed the bottle and began reading the fine print. As it turns out, the reason this product apparently is effective is because it is designed to smell like the urine of various animals large enough to eat rabbits and raccoons. At this point, I noted that I was somewhat soaked in the product. It was on my hands and arms, as well as my shorts.

Nearly overcome, I dropped the bottle and ran inside to strip down for a shower. Unfortunately, I carried the pee perfume indoors with me. I ran into Erin as I went upstairs, and before I could even explain, she began gagging uncontrollably. It was awful. The more time that passed, the more I smelled like the product of a moose on a bender.

Luckily I was able to get rid of the smell with a shower, and the product no longer smells after drying on the lawn. But the sheer memory of the smell made Erin and I somewhat ill for the rest of the night.

I haven't told Erin yet, but you're supposed to apply the product once a week for the first few weeks. I'm not sure I can bear it.

Busy. Weekend. Now. Tired.

Whew!! That was a weekend.

I took one picture and one video on the actual fourth of July (bad mom! bad mom!). The video is when my mom stopped by to give Grant the most precious (and annoying) toy ever: the duck that does the chicken dance. Here's a short clip of Grant's new favorite toy.



The picture: Grant eating a cookie in the car. Riveting, I know.

But, the weekend only got crazier. We had a huge family reunion down in Bedford on Saturday in honor of Bret's uncle's 80th birthday. I thought there might be about 30 people there, but the place was packed. I don't know a 150 people to call my family (or maybe even my friends), but Bret's uncle Vic had people flying and driving in from all over the country. It was a special time. Grant loved seeing everyone! Here are a few pictures: Grant with his grandfather (Bret's dad who is called Papaw) Grant with his cousin Kate But, the fun was just starting. On Sunday, as part of my dad's birthday present, Bret, Grant and I took my mom and dad to a baseball game. The Indianapolis Indians, our minor league team in town, are fun to watch, and Sports Illustrated even decided that our ballpark is the #1 minor league park in the nation. We had great seats, and Grant loved watching people, eating ice cream and popcorn, and wandering around like a drunken man (he's still so unsteady when he walks; Bret says it looks like he's "had a few."). The game went into extra innings, but we left with one tired baby at the top of the ninth.

Here are some pics from Grant's first baseball game (it was free visor day when you get to that pic). Congrats are also in order to our friends Matt and Amy Tenney who welcomed baby Grace into the world! Baby Grace was early and her delivery was not without complications, but she and Mom are both troopers, and we are so grateful that she's here. Bret and I will visit the Tenney family in the NICU tonight. Here's their blog if interested.

New Tradition

In hopes that I can do a better job of chronicling the life of Grant, I'm going to start Wonder Word Wednesday (www). Each Wednesday, I'll try to post a little something funny Grant has said or new words or sounds he's mastering. It's more for my sake than yours, but if you're interested, you can follow along at home.

July 2: He thumps his chest to act like a gorilla, strums imaginary strings when asked to play the guitar, and says "come on" to everyone, everywhere. He's also mastered the word outside (said: ow-sigh) as he stands at the back sliding glass door.

One phrase he has not mastered but Mommy has is the phrase "hit and run." That's right: this morning I was victim to a classic hit and run. I got hit pretty hard (about 40 mph or so), but I'm doing okay (except for some real neck stiffness). The cops said it was unlikely to catch the guy without a license number, so if anyone sees a gold Lexus with a hood that looks like an accordian trolling the streets of NW Indianapolis, please give me a call.

Teething!

Grant has three new teeth, and he's got a big one coming in any day. His gums are swollen, and they have turned black and blue. I read a book that said teething doesn't hurt kids, but when I look at those gums, I beg to differ.

Busy Weekend

The summer whirlwind is in full effect these days, and this weekend was no exception.

On Friday night, we took a trip out to the latest in family fun entertainment in central Indiana -- the Indiana Live Casino. This has been touted as being "just like Vegas" but I have a sneaking suspicion that no casino in Vegas has ever opened in a pole barn until the real casino is built.

We had family from California visiting, and the casino did provide for a couple of hours of entertainment, mostly watching my mother-in-law shuffle nickels and pennies into a slot machine and then squeal like they were $50's when she'd win $2 or $3.

I did take note of the fact that there were an inordinate number of people wheeling their oxygen tanks behind them throughout the casino. As if watching people toss their pension away one slot pull at a time isn't nerve wracking enough, waiting for the place to blow when Gramps decides it's time for a Camel with an oxygen chaser left me feeling strangely unsettled.

Having gotten our fill of Vegas in a cornfield, we moved across the street to Indiana Downs to blow more cash on the ponies. I will say that I generally enjoy watching the horses more than I do the slot machines. I can sit outside in the cool summer breeze, beer in hand, breathing in the horse-pucky-scented air. It's delightful. My father-in-law was the big winner of the night, hitting a $35 jackpot on the final race. Enjoy those six free gallons of gas, Dave!

On Sunday we ventured to Nashville, Indiana. If you've ever had a hankering for a scented candle or a sculpture made out of leftover car parts, Nashville might just be your place. Grant relished the opportunity to show off his recently acquired walking skills all over town. Once he got tired, he would stick his arms out and request to be airlifted out of having to walk any further by saying, "Up up!" It must be nice to immediately have at least four people clamoring to relieve your stress by simply saying, "Up up!" I repeatedly informed everyone that I too was tired but got shunned like a fat kid when picking teams. Such is life...

Congrats

Our friends Tony and Jennie just welcomed baby Oscar into the world! They got Grant this little outfit for Grant's homecoming, so we'll have to find something of similar insult.


Click here for their blog.

Explosion

We're in the middle of a full blown language explosion over here. Grant is language crazy! I have a beautiful scrapbook that chronicled the first year of Grant's life, and I had hoped to keep it up for a record of things like expanding vocabulary. But, life is busy, so, for now, this blog will have act as some sort of baby book.

Grant talks constantly, and it is starting to get easier and easier to understand him. At first, I thought he was just repeating words. I'd say zebra, he'd repeat it, but I didn't think he fully understood. But now, he's starting to use those repeated words all on his own.

Just today, Grant (at the zoo) walked up to a group of daycamp kids waving, and he said, "Hi, guys." I about died at the cuteness. He does the same thing with everything. "Hi, Dad." "Hi, ducks." "Hi, zebra."

But, it doesn't stop there. I thought I might try to chronicle his words, but there are just too many: zip, all done, shoe, milk, amen, truck, car, Grant (which he pronounces Nant)... it just keeps going.

And he knows every sound I can think of: snake, owl, dog, lion, chicken, truck (beep beep), etc, but three of my new favorites include frog, train and santa claus (ho ho ho). He also pulls his tongue in and out to imitate a lizard.

It's just amazing to watch and to listen to Grant become a boy. It melts my heart to hear his little voice make meaning.

The Life of a Mother

I knew it would happen eventually. Every mother warns you that it will happen, so it didn't quite sneak up on me, but still the same, it marked a moment in time when you realize what exactly being Mommy to Grant means.

The other night, Grant did something he never had done prior. He pooped in the tub. Bret was watching Grant play as I put away clothes, and I heard Bret squeal. Upon my hasty return to the tub, I saw several "pieces" floating in the tub. Bret's exact words at this moment: "I'm out of here."

I couldn't keep Grant in the tub, but I couldn't trust him to stand by, dripping wet, as I cleaned out and disinfected the tub. So, I moved him to the tub in the master bedroom, put some warm water in it, ordered Bret to stand watch, and I returned to Grant's bathroom to clean. Not fun.

But as luck would have it, I heard another squeal. Grant decided to do another "big job" in the second tub.

It was a long night: another parenting hurdle crossed.

Ouch

I jumped out of bed this morning with a list of projects for the day. I put in my contacts, threw on some clothes, and walked into the office where our computer hums quietly day and night.

As I walked in, I noticed that the computer wasn't really humming. It was more or less groaning, much as one might do if they'd eaten some bad tuna. GRRR...grrr...GRRRR...grr... Erin noted that it had been doing this for a while, so I decided that it would become my first chore of the day to repair my poor PC.

After dragging the thing out from under the desk, disconnecting the mere 75 cables attached to it, and opening it up, I discovered the offending fan that was going out. It wasn't a particularly necessary component, so I disconnected it. I also decided to clean the rest of the box out, removing several years of dust.

I was seated on the floor of the office with the computer open in front of me. At one point, I reached across the machine and tried to pull up on a component on the far side. As I did this, I had what felt like a bolt of lightning shoot across the small of my back. I yelled (some might say, "Screamed like a small child") and fell over on my side and then my back. I lay there moaning, at which point Erin came running up the stairs.

When she arrived, she immediately looked disappointed. "I thought you'd cut your arm off or been electrocuted."

Sorry to disappoint you, dear. Immobilization isn't enough to warrant my cries?

I've had back problems for the last 15 years, but today was something special. It took me an hour to get off the floor of the office. I couldn't sit up, I couldn't stand, I couldn't move. At one point there was discussion of implementing a "pee jar."

Luckily, after a fist full of medication, I was able to move myself over the course of 10 minutes into my recliner in the bedroom. A couple of hours passed, and I was able to slowly walk around the house and do basic things. I told Erin, and this is no exaggeration, that other than the pain I experienced when I broke my arm in the infamous horseback riding incident, the first fifteen minutes this morning was the most excruciating pain I'd ever been in.

To make matters worse, the doctor keeps telling me to strengthen my "core" to make these episodes less likely. Apparently "strengthen," in medical terms, does not mean "fill to capacity frequently," which is more or less how I treat my "core." Erin angrily informed me this afternoon that I needed to start getting in shape. Alas, I think she may be right. I'd better eat like I just escaped from prison tonight...

Friendly Little Dude

Grant might not win the most athletic award in high school. Or the best looking (though I don't see why not). Or the most likely to succeed. But, I am going all in with this bet: the boy will win the "friendliest" award. Hands down.

He says "hi" to everything and everyone. At the park, every child gets a personal greeting. His toys, the same. The mailbox as we're walking. The butterfly that flies by. Even last night as I put on his pjs: "What's that?" asked Grant. I replied, "Those are your pajamas, sweetheart." "Hi," stammered Grant. He's on a friendly basis with his night clothes.

This kid is super social, and he's going to teach his introverted parents a great deal.

New Blog Addition

The Taylor family has decided to get it in gear and start a blog! Yeah! After their recent addition of baby Brakston into the family, I've been waiting and waiting and waiting, and now, I can stalk them everyday to see if there are any new photos of Brakston! Grant and Brakston are going to be great friends (and cousins) as they grow up, so it's exciting to be connected (even if it's cyber connected). Click here for their blog.

Six Great Years

Bret and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary tonight. Our actual anniversary was on Sunday, but with Father's Day and all that jazz, we opted for a mid-week night out. We went to Mama Carollas, a local Italian eatery and then to the Illinois Food Emporium for dessert (which was the place that "catered" (if you came to our wedding, you know why "catered" is in quotation marks) the desserts for our wedding). It was a great evening.

But even better than the evening have been the last six years. There have been some hard times, some sad times, some angry times, but more than anything, there have been great times. Bret and I were talking tonight about how blessed we feel to have each other. Our marriage has been a wonderful gift.

Now, off to make him watch the video of our wedding.

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, we're finally back from jet-setting (read: sheer exhaustion) around the United States, and Grant is successfully back on East Coast time. He's sleeping like a champ, eating even better, and loving being back among his toys. Today, we ventured out to the park and to the library, and after lunch, he was asking to go to bed. He's sacked out as I type this.

I'm almost caught up on emails, and I am tackling the chores that have lay dormant for a month now. I've got notes to write, bathrooms to clean, and this afternoon's task of cleaning the carpets. Summer fun.

Our California trip, while exhausting in some regards, was loads of fun, and Grant loved hanging out with family. We cannot thank our family members enough for loving us through their hospitality.

I cannot even begin to express how much Grant has changed in the last few weeks. He mimics every word and every sound (Daddy is on strict orders to think before he speaks); he's toddling everywhere, and he has grasped (finally!) the concept of "no-no" (which he says back to me while wagging a finger). What he can say is slowly growing, but it is very clear that he understands a great deal more than he can verbalize. Bret and I have taken to spelling certain words, and Grant responds to entire sentence commands: "Grant, pick up the rollercat toy and take it to your Grandpa." I feel like he is (sadly in some ways) out of the baby stage and on to full-fledged boyhood.

Here are some pics from our trip:

The stuffed toy I WON GRANT!! There's something sweet about winning against young children.

Our Reno family: my sister Deanna and nieces Ashley and Samantha


Grandma HAD to bring that boat all the way from Indiana, so after finding refuge in Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Richard's pool (after being kicked out of another one), we blew it up for Grant to enjoy.









Uncle Richard and Aunt Bonnie!!
Grant's great Grandmother.

I can put that whole thing in my mouth; I just know it!
Grant's cousins (kid heaven for Grant). Check out their blogs: Holdridge and Ramones. Cousin Brady was already snoozing.
Here's cousin Brady! Boys!
Cousin Christina knows the way to Grant's heart: Elmo.
Give me that fondue you're eating, Mommy. My mom and I ended the trip with a great evening strolling Santana Row in San Jose. We ate at a French restaurant called Left Bank. I had fondue because I have a slight addiction to all things cheese.

Piano Lesson

I took piano lessons as a kid from second grade through my freshman year of high school. With such a long term commitment to a single instrument, one would think I would be a moderately proficient piano player. Instead, it's merely a chance to be embarrased every time someone says, "Oh, you took piano lessons for 7 years, you must be able to play --insert song I can't play here --." I can't even play Christmas carols well. That little Zuzu chick on "It's A Wonderful Life" looks like Beethoven next to me. I can't hold a candle to Liberace (snarf snarf).

Anyway, the point is that none of this was the fault of my two fine instructors. The first was a family friend who bailed out in disgust around fifth grade, and the second was an elderly lady named Myrta Tilson. Both possessed excellent piano teaching skills, but they had a student who would sooner spend time wishing he knew how to play the piano than actually practice playing the thing.

In an effort to keep me interested, my first teacher actually allowed me to play Duran Duran sheet music rather than her standard repertoire of classical pieces. (Remember, this was 1982. Duran Duran was so rad.) If you're sitting there thinking, "Hmmm...'Hungry Like the Wolf' doesn't contain a piano part that I can remember," you'd be correct. It was horrific. It was like playing "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik" on a pedal steel guitar. Awful.

Anyway, Ms. Tilson was slightly less prone to bending to my desires to play New Wave hits on her piano. She was an excellent pianist in her own right, and she had other people lined up to be her student, so my inability to commit to practicing irritated her beyond belief. In the end, I quit taking piano lessons from her, although I did mow her grass and trim her shrubs occasionally, as a sort of apology for being such a crap student.

The point of all of this is that I did some research this week and found out that Ms. Tilson now lives in an assisted care facility here in town, and apparently she's still playing the piano with gusto. I'm going to make an effort to go see her soon, in an effort to learn more about her and appease my guilty conscience over wasting so many hour long sessions with her over the years. (Although she did still get paid, so perhaps I should apologize to my parents for having them pay for Ms. Tilson's hour long Marlboro break for 5 years...oh well...)

Sleeping with Grant

Since night one in our home, Grant has slept in his crib. It's just the path we decided on, and he seemed to acclimate just fine.

This vacation, because we are staying with family and are cribless, I've been sleeping in the same bed with Grant. With the bed pushed against the wall and my body acting as a barrier, little Grant has been tossing and turning next to Mommy.

A couple of observations for his future wife:
1. He snores like mad. We've known this for some time, as we can hear him snore from our bedroom down the hall, but when you're sleeping in the same room--much less the same bed--it's deafening. I remember listening to my Grandpa snore through the wall when staying the night. Grandpa is one thing. My 16 month old... well, it just ain't right.

2. He's a spooner. I wrap him up. I place him against the far wall. I put pillows between his body and mine. Give it 10 minutes max; he's got his face in my neck. Snoring. Or he's got his back pressed up against my back. Or he's got his arm thrown over my eyes. This kid wants to be close, and he'll roll the width of queen size bed to make sure of it.

3. Somehow, even though he weighs just 25 lbs and I weigh... well a bit more than that, Grant owns the bed. He easily takes up 3/4 of the bed, and I'm left hanging off the side. I don't get it.

4. He's Houdini. Really. I wrapped him up tonight in a sheet, the classic burrito fold. My thinking was that when he fell asleep, I could leave without fear of him getting out or rolling off the bed. Ha. Not only could he get out (which he has done several times on this trip), but he is not opposed to using his teeth. Smart cookie. Scary, smart cookie.

More on our travels later.

Never Say Never

I don't want to make some declaration that I later have to rescind, but as of right now, I am never, ever, ever going to take a child on a cross country plane trip without his or her own seat. Ever. Thank goodness Grandma was there because Grant was A LOT of work. Plus, when he decided to gag himself (as he does when he's trying to help the teething process), he spit up all over Grandma. We hadn't taken off from Denver yet. Ouch.

After a quick trip to Reno, NV to visit with my sister and family, we are now sitting pretty in Elk Grove, CA. We went swimming at Grandma's pool today, but that only lasted 15 minutes or so because we were informed that children who are not potty trained are not allowed to swim in the pool, special diapers or not. I almost said he was potty trained. Almost.

So far, aside from family, the highlight of the trip was our stay at Circus Circus in Reno. There was an extensive midway and serious circus acts. I won Grant a giraffe on the camel races, and he thought the midway (and the trapeze artist) was the greatest thing on earth.

We're going to stay mellow here in Sacramento for a bit. Relaxation time. Plus, I play cards with my grandparents all day. I'm going to take them for some cash. I mean, at a dollar a game, it does add up.

We love you and miss you, Daddy!

Slow Posts

So let's see, we went to Key West, Grant was sick, we came home, then what?

Grant healed. As of Monday night, there was virtually no trace of the previous week's illness. His mad walking skills were progressing quickly, as he hurriedly rushed between objects in our living room. It was good to see the little dude back in action.

On Tuesday, Grant, Erin, and the Grandma headed for the west coast to bless those members of our family who still choose not to live in Indiana with a visit from Grant. We hope they enjoy his presence. We bill by the hour.

On Tuesday night, yours truly began quickly dismantling the dash to my Sonata in an effort to replace the no-longer-working CD player. This was one of those "why don't you wait and do that while I'm out in California projects" which means that Erin doesn't want to wait in the ER.

I managed to perform this task without doing the following:

a) breaking any portion of the dash
b) breaking the new stereo
c) dripping hot solder on any fleshy parts

My only error in judgment was that I needed to punch a hole for the iPod connector in the back of the plastic tray that the new stereo fit into. Rather than approach this like a sane person (or better yet, an engineer), I decided to just poke a hole with my soldering iron and burn outward until it was large enough for my iPod connector.

I'm fairly certain I will be unable to get the stench of burnt plastic out of my clothes or lungs any time soon. And I think my right eye is starting to droop. You can start divying my stuff up as soon as you like.

Key West--The Final Chapter

A potpourri of thoughts:

Bret's poor glasses were--in one deft motion--crunched in the hands of baby Grant. It was like Grant was trying to remind us: "if you mess up, you're next."

Grant and Mommy before the wedding. One of my favorite Grant memories happened at the wedding. Let's set the stage: it was hot. It might have been the hottest I have ever been, but don't worry, the wedding reception had plenty of frozen cold libations, and other such drinks, to help with the heat. Bret had ordered such a drink (a rum and coke to be exact) and was drinking it out of this coconut glass (which were part of the reception's theme). Grant was "walking" around the table, and before you knew it, he had that coconut raised over his head with rum and coke spilling everywhere: his head, his clothes, his mouth. So, Grant had his first drink in Key West. I'm sure it put hair on his chest.

Here are some final pics of Grant in the hospital. What a trooper! The nurse cut a green sock and put it over Grant's IV, but he was no fool; he had that thing out of his arm before the allotted time. Smart cookie. Also, there's a pic of Grant "playing" with my Gameboy; he looked so grown up pretending to play Ms. PacMan. Finally, there's a pic of Grant in his crib (or baby jail).

Key West was not a total bust. We played in the pool, got to see family (albeit for too short a time), and got to see a part of the United States we might never made it to otherwise. Bret would like it noted that we did have some fabulous food in Key West, despite our hospital stay. Our favorite, without question, was Florida's oldest restaurant, Pepes. Just our kind of place. Yummy.

Key West

What a week. There are some weeks that just can't adequately be described, and I think this qualifies -- especially for Erin and Grant. Let me start off by saying that Erin did an amazing job, despite existing on virtually no sleep and having to deal with a very sick, very angry baby, and at times, a very irritated, very irritating husband. Given the amount of stress this week produced for all of us, she held together better than I did, and I owe her a big anniversary night out here very shortly.

We arrived in Key West on Friday night late and headed straight for the airport. On Saturday, my cousin was getting married in the afternoon, so Saturday morning consisted of a quick trip to the pool, followed by preparations for the wedding. It was hot. I mean REALLY hot on Saturday. Everyone at the wedding was sweating in pools. The ceremony was short and sweet, and it was followed by a very nice meal in the courtyard. Everyone had a great time, despite the sticky conditions, and I was glad we were able to come down and support Erin and Gordon as they embark on married life together.

Saturday evening, I went out with my cousins and the bridal party for a night on Duval Street, Key West's version of Bourbon Street. We had a great time, and I would heartily recommend the experience, even if you're not a big partier. The opportunity to see alcoholics creating their own enterprises (take pictures with a drunk guy for $5, have a drunk guy tell you a joke for $5, have a drunk guy sell you a big, nasty hot dog, etc) is time well spent.

On Sunday, Erin, Grant, and I wandered back to Duval Street for lunch. We ate at a Jamaican restaurant. Grant enjoyed the steel drum music. In fact, he enjoyed it enough to break my sunglasses in delight. So after lunch and a brief stop for new shades, we again retreated to the hotel. On Sunday night, we went out to dinner with family, and that's when things started downhill.

During dinner, Grant began coughing. He's prone to being generally full of snot, and he's also prone to dramatic fits of coughing, so we weren't all that concerned. But as dinner progressed, he coughed more and more, so we headed back to the hotel early. That night, he had a little temperature, so we gave him Tylenol and put him to bed.

On Monday, he seemed to be doing much better, in some respects. He didn't sleep well, so he was tired, but he generally was his usual self, just tired. We didn't do anything on Monday, with the exception of a quick bite for lunch. We took him back to the hotel, but by Monday afternoon, we couldn't get him to drink or eat anything, and the fever had returned. We called our insurance company's "Dial-A-Doc" service, and based on the fever and inability to get Grant to
drink anything, we headed for the emergency room.

Upon arrival at the Lower Keys Medical Center, they took Grant's vitals, and he did indeed still have a fever and was a bit dehydrated. With much screaming and parental help, we put him on an IV. At this point, Erin and I figured they'd get some fluids in him, tell us to give him Tylenol for the fever, and we'd be on our way. Little did we know...

At around 11pm, the ER doctor returned and informed us that Grant tested positive for RSV, a common respiratory virus in children. Given the hydration issues, he suggested we admit Grant for the night to make sure he got plenty of fluids. We weren't thrilled about a night in the hospital, but obviously were mostly concerned for our precious little dude, so we agreed. It took until roughly 1am to get into a room. In the mean time, we had to put two new IVs in Grant's arms because of various problems. The little guy is strong. Disturbingly strong. It took three of us with all of our effort to give him an IV. I felt terrible for him, as by this time he was exhausted and completely scared. In the end, Erin stayed the night, while I returned to the hotel only a few minutes away.

I returned to the hospital on Tuesday morning to find that Grant was still runnning a fever, although it was controlled with Tylenol, and he was still not drinking anything. He'd been up all night, as had Erin, and both were completely and utterly exhausted. Grant was litterally limp, he was so tired. We saw the pediatrician around 2pm, and he informed us that while Grant didn't have a bad case of RSV (a bad case apparently involves putting the kid on oxygen and spending 5+ days in the hospital), he was still concerned about his inability to take fluids on his own. He recommended a 2nd night in the hospital. Our vacation was quickly slipping away.

On Wednesday morning, I arrived at the hospital to find that both Grant and Erin had gotten some sleep. Grant slept at least 14 hours that night, and he was pretty much back to his old self. The fever was gone. The only question now was whether he'd drink anything.

He awakened and immediately drank some grape juice provided by the hospital. He was obviously thirsty, in part because he'd finally yanked himself free of the IV in the middle of the night. We were thrilled to see him drink something on his own, until a few minutes later when he had a fit of coughing and spewed it all back up. This happened a couple more times, and we began at this point to consider the very real possibility that we wouldn't be leaving on our scheduled Thursday flights.

The good news was that Grant was in great spirits. He was standing up in his crib, giving everyone and everything his signature point accompanied by "What's zat?" The nurses, predictably, declared him adorable. Our nurse called the pediatrician and asked what to do about the fluids. At this point, we started giving Grant tablespoons of water, which he thankfully held down. When the pediatrician examined him Wednesday afternoon, he told us that if Grant could start taking an ounce of Gatorade every 15 minutes for the rest of the afternoon without spewing it up, he'd be fine to release him.

Thankfully, Grant didn't have any more trouble after this point. He's still coughing a bit, but he's holding down fluids and there aren't any other signs that he was ever sick. We couldn't be more thankful that he's doing well.

I'm now sitting here at MIA -- the call sign for the Miami International Airport, or the eventual status of the contents of your luggage at the hands of the MIA baggage handlers, take your pick. I'm sitting in the very spot where I took a phone call in January 2007 to let us know that we needed to get back to Indy ASAP. Our baby was on the way. Interestingly, the big baggage wrapping machines that so angered me on our previous visit are no longer around. I'd like to think my complaining did the trick, but perhaps I'll never know.

Anyway, as I sit here, I'm not thinking about the fact that I left a mess at work last week, anxiously awaiting a chance to sit in the sun for a week with my family on vacation. I'm not thinking about how much money we spent, only to spend our week in the hospital. And I'm not thinking about the fact that I now have to return to work, exhausted instead of refreshed. All of those things have crossed my mind this week, but in the end, none of that matters.

Right now I'm only thankful that Grant is okay, and I'm thinking about how amazing the past year has been and how much I can look forward to other good times with my family. I'm thinking about how much Erin and Grant mean to me, and I'm thinking about the fact that I couldn't have imagined loving a kid any more than I love Grant. So as I sit here in the same spot where I heard that Grant was on his way, I'm thankful to God that Grant is okay and that we got through this mess. Vacation will have to wait until next time.

I'd also like to thank the staff at the Lower Keys Medical Center. They work in a modest facility in a remote locale, but they were wonderful to us all week. Grant got wonderful care in the hospital, and I feel fortunate that there was a hospital so close to our hotel that could provide him with good care. If we ever return to Key West, I hope to avoid these fine people at all cost.

We have some pictures from the hospital that I'll post once we're back in Indy. What a week.

Quick Update

Just a brief update to let everyone know that we're still around. We traveled to Key West last Friday to start our vacation, attended my cousin's wedding on Saturday, and hung out a bit with family on Sunday. Sunday night, Grant started coughing.

We tried on Monday to nurse our little dude back to health. But on Monday night, a fever led us to the emergency room. In the end, he was admitted to the hospital here in Key West with RSV, a respiratory virus that is apparently fairly common in little kids. I'm not sure what the acronym stands for, but I came up with Really ***** Vacation. You can choose your own adjective starting with S.

The good news is that Grant is doing fairly well, although they are keeping him in the hospital until Wednesday. After three attempts at getting his IV going, he has developed a healthy contempt for medical professionals. He is keeping them all entertained, and each new person that enters the room declares him adorable.

We know. Just make him well.

Travelin' Man

Under threat from the doctor to have to visit the physical therapist, Grant is up and walking. I purchased a new toy (read: 1 dollar garage sale find) shopping cart that has aided his walking, and now, after a weekend of walking around with that cart, he's taking lots of steps on his own (mind you, this is the fourth "walker toy" I've tried and the only one to work). Walking is slowly becoming his prefered mode of transportation, but it's not like he's going to walk around the mall or the airport anytime soon, but he is mobile and upright, so we're moving in the right direction.

I've feared that I would have to start telling people he was nine months old, as I got many a stare, "word of wisdom," or snicker from anyone who asked how old he was as he crawled around under foot. I thought it might be easier to just say he was 9 months old, and just let them stand in amazement at his verbal skills and massive size. Thankfully, I will not have to resort to such mistruths.

WhoaMan

I'm frequently reminded of the differences between my brain and my wife's brain. As I step into the closet to retrieve the day's clothes, only to have to step over the last few day's of her wardrobe, I am reminded. When I get into her car and find the entire contents of a 7-11 convenience store strewn about the cabin, I am reminded. When she tells me she's starved for affection, and I reply with a bodily function, I am reminded.

I was reminded yet again yesterday when I arrived home after work. "That low tire light thingy is on in the van again."

Now this is usually not a reason for concern. The light kicks on when the tire goes below 30 psi, so it's frequently just a matter of putting a little air in to make the light go away. But the light is usually accurate. In this case, the light was somewhat more disturbing.

"Which tire is it complaining about?"
"One of the rear ones."
"Oh, one of the BRAND NEW rear ones that was put on 2 days ago?"
"Uh, I think so."

On Saturday I took the van in because there was a large nail sticking out of the side of one of the rear tires. Therefore I immediately thought, "Oh great, the tire place jacked up the installation of a new tire."

"Did you take a look at the tire after you noticed the light?"
"Nope."
"Did the car drive funny or anything?"
"Uh, erm, no."

I stepped into the garage to have a look at the offending tire. It was flat. Completely flat.

"When did you first notice the light? Saturday? Sunday?"
"Dunno...probably just today. I don't really notice dash lights so much."

I decided to inspect the flattened tire myself. In approximately three seconds, I discovered a screw sticking out of the treads of the new tire. It was a large screw, of the type one might find holding together the corner of an oil rig in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

"There's a large screw in this new tire, dear."
"I didn't run over anything! I didn't do it!"
"I'm not upset, dear. But can you just watch where you drive?"
"I always look. I didn't run over anything."

Erin always assumes that I'm angry, and that her insistance that she hasn't driven through an actual screw production factory leaves her blameless in the incident. In reality, it's the annoyance of having to return to the tire shop and drink their nasty coffee that is bothersome, and I'm genuinely not that upset.

Historically, though, she doesn't always notice things in the road. On her previous vehicle, she drove through what appeared to be the remains of a crash involving a truck carrying plate glass windows in front of her place of employment, only to have the tires go flat later that day while parked at the school. I noticed the large amount of glass as I arrived to put on her spare tire.

When I asked her about the glass, she replied, "What glass?" Indeed.

Grandma's Glasses

Funny every time.

I'm Funny

This video cracks me up; watch as Grant watches himself on video. The video is one of him laughing while being tickled, but he thinks he is pretty funny on screen. One of his new favorite things is to watch himself on the camera after I've shot a video. He's pretty cute, huh?

Grant's new favorite word, thanks to an evening with my dad in which my dad "taught him how to argue" (great job, dad), is "No." Grant has shaken his head "no" for some time, and those people close to him know that he made up his own sign language sign that means, "no," or "get the heck out of my face." He's spirited (to say the least). Well, here's a conversation centering around Grant's new word. Daddy tried to be funny, but Mommy prevailed!

Music Lover

Grant's love of music is becoming legendary. Of course, he loves the piano, his harmonica, and now, the guitar. However, his love goes much deeper than that! Sure, he loves the traditional tunes of "Twinkle, Twinkle" and "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider." And sure, he likes the classic church tunes (my favorite thing is when I sing "Jesus Loves Me" because Grant shakes his head "yes" the whole time and does his strong boy at the appropriate line).

But, that's not all. Grant's favorite TV show (I'm not kidding) is Austin City Limits, a concert show on PBS that Bret tivos (new verb sighting). Grant dances to the music of Franz Ferdinand and Ray Davies. If Bret pauses the concert, Grant signs "please, please, please" while pointing at the TV. He'll watch the whole concert.It's too cute.

Daddy has a new music buddy.

Mother's Day travelin'

One must be on some sort of street provided "medications" to schedule one's self the way Erin and I have scheduled ourselves over the past few weeks. I told her yesterday that I was having trouble relaxing, and I've BEEN having trouble relaxing since trip number one to Mexico several weeks ago.

Since then, we've had trip number two to Mexico, prom, and a trip to Madison (the eventual subject of this ramble). We still have a trip to Key West and a trip to California to go before this idiocy ends. At some point, I need a real vacation that doesn't involve anyone but Erin, Grant, and anyone with a liquor license.

This weekend, we went to Madison, Indiana with Erin's folks for our annual trek to the Madison In Bloom festival. We dearly love Madison, and strolling around for an afternoon in spring is always a nice diversion. We always have lunch at The Downtowner, and then we wander around to the various houses, occasionally pocketing a trinket or two from the particularly nice backyards.

Things this year started a little rocky. The first house wasn't very stirring, so we moved on to house number two, which turned out to be an Episcopalean church. Not wishing to be struck by lightning, I didn't pocket anything, but apparently the damage had already been done, because a bird pooped on me about five minutes after we arrived. As someone not fond of being shat or spat upon (is anyone really?), I spent a good while bathing in the sink inside the church fellowship hall.

For whatever reason, the gardens this year just weren't doing it for us, although it was still nice to wander around, and the people were, as always, exceedingly friendly. Erin had a pounding headache, so we bailed early and went to Scottsburg, Indiana and used some Holiday Inn points from my stays in China to stay at the Holiday Inn Express.

We took the opportunity to let Grant swim in the pool, which he has done in the past. This time he seemed somewhat leary of the whole thing. I didn't understand why until my eyes began to burn and several of my toes dissolved. I am of the opinion that the Holiday Inn pool maintenance might be a little suspect.

For dinner, we drove up to The Pines. We had driven past this place a multitude of times, and I had regailed Erin with stories of eating there with my grandparents as a child. I hadn't been there in years, and I warned her that we shouldn't go there necessarily for the food, but more for the experience.

The Pines is housed in a metal pole barn, and the inside is outfitted like a mortuary. It's very odd. Nobody under 80 apparently eats there, and there is some suspicion that perhaps these individuals are confused and merely think they're saving themselves some extra legwork by checking themselves into a mortuary, a reasonable theory proposed by my uncle. There are trellises everywhere, a gazebo, and green grasses painted on the walls. The staff is all dressed in tuxes, a feature of many of these types of restaurants in Indiana. It's as though they're serving in a five star restaurant in their mind's eye. In any case, the food was fine, and Grant took the opportunity to throw a large quantity of pudding around the room.

On Sunday we drove up to Bedford to be with my grandmother and mother on Mother's Day. We took a scenic route in an effort to allow Grant to take a nap on the way into town, and it turned out to be quite beautiful. If you're ever in the neighborhood, the county roads between Little York and Plattsburg, Indiana make for a wonderful drive through the woods, providing ample opportunities to witness river folk, a favorite of Erin's. About a half hour into the drive, Erin noted that every house featured exposed insulation on one portion or another. She was, indeed, correct.

We came home last night exhausted, but looking forward to my cousin's wedding coming up in a couple of weeks. Despite the presence of a shifty uncle or two, it will be a nice opportunity to hang out at the beach and consume whatever is available.

Half Giggle, Half Cry

What do you do with your ice cream cone?

What kid does this? He doesn't take after his daddy (that's for sure).

Little Miss Grace Update

It goes in cycles. A few times a year for an entire week, Bret and I get this question: "Now, aren't you adopting from somewhere else?" It's like everyone got an email reminder at the same time to ask about the process.

As is always the case with international adoption, it is out of our hands. It's been almost three years since we started on our path to Grace (read: longest freakin' pregnancy ever), and we've still got some time to wait.

We could realistically get her sometime between November 2008 and April 2009, but the Olympics are the big wild card. No one is certain how the CCAA (the Chinese governing body in charge of all adoptions) will function during the month of August. Will it shut down? Will it still allow travel? Will people be working? And then, will things pick up after the Olympics?

Ideally, we would have Grace home by March of 2009; if not, we will have to redo paperwork (again) and pay more fees (again). We cannot wait until the day that baby Grace is home, safe and sound and part of our family forever and ever.

We very much love her, and the wait has been a true test of patience and trusting in God's timing.