To my Partner In Crime on her first Mother’s Day
Hey Sweetie,
The term “my better half” was coined by someone very much like myself, someone who married up, found someone that would compliment them in all the best ways, knew when it was time to talk it out, fight for what you wanted, help us find a path towards a life we both could find satisfying and challenging.
I love you for your unwavering support for any idea I show even a half-hearted interest in.
I love you for being the planner of all things that we decide to do in our lives, as I am much more comfortable being the sherpa (seriously, don’t leave me to the planning of a thing. It will not happen or it will happen very, very badly). Just let me be the heavy lifter, you tell me where to be and when to be there. It took us years to work out this system, let’s not blow it now.
I love you for being an example of how someone can go for what they want, straight away, without hesitation. There are not many like you out there in the world, and the ones that do always live the most extraordinary lives. I am beyond lucky to be able to take part in this constant adventure we are on.
I love you even more now that you are a mother. I expected this would be the case, and I was right. The first time I saw you holding Cole I knew this was the best thing to ever happen to us both. The patience and adoration you show Cole fills my heart with love, the kind I have to make awkward jokes about to try to dispel how challenging it is to feel something so strongly (sorry about that, by the way). Cole has been such a blessing. I’m glad we waited until this stage of our lives, when we both knew we had more than enough love to pass on to a new pack member, a new Partner In Crime.
Happy Mother’s Day mama, here’s to many, many more.
Boys’ Clothing Sucks
I was in Wal Mart* the other day, because I am an incredibly discerning consumer of goods, when my eyeballs suddenly demanded that I look away from this horrific sight.
The thing is, I like Spider-Man. I love Pixar, but… I mean, COME ON. Look at this crap. It’s a complete mess. The floor space for girls vs boys was about five to one, with a truly anemic selection for boys. I found almost nothing except tacky cartoon characters sprayed all over badly designed clothing. Beyond the lack of style, when did it become okay for little boys to be walking advertisements?
And I don’t mean to go back to the well on this photo, but have you seen this kid?
I can say with 100% confidence that while Cole will suffer clothing, his default preference is au natural. I tried to get him into the most adorable onesie and only got the arms on before he was pitching a fit. I just left it on him like a weird cloak for a minute before freeing the poor child.
But where does one go to get decent clothes for boys? Here in Oregon, there’s a particular aesthetic which translates into the availability of cool consignment shops like Stone Soup that have much better items. But even there, the wife and I have difficulty finding stuff that we like.
So I put it to you, where are you fine people getting good, fashionable clothes for your kids? I don’t need a budding hipster, but I wouldn’t mind a little swagger now and again.
*Yes people, I am aware I should be avoiding these places, and more often than not, I do, but when I do go, I try hard to not think about where the merchandise comes from, the same way I try hard to not envision petting a cow as I dive into the hamburger that I should also not be eating.
On Dogs and Babies
Brad and GetReadyDad mentioned dogs in the comments of my post on co-sleeping, so I thought I would talk about my experience with our full grown labs, Jack and Molly, since Cole came along. I have a feeling I will be talking about them repeatedly over the next few years (how fun it will be when the kid becomes a cheerios dispensing monster?). A little profiling of our canines:
Molly was our first and was a total nightmare as a puppy. Willful and independent with dreams of freedom, we learned quickly that leaving anything (like say, a cell phone) on the floor meant “chew this, Molly!” Now, at five years old, Molly has mellowed and become an sweet, affectionate dog. Molly is my dog, because I worked so hard to get her to this point, and the result makes me a proud.
Jack, is, was and always will be Christine’s dog. I love the hell out of the guy too, but damn, that guy is a showoff. Easy to train, eager to please, the little suck-up gives all other dogs a bad name. I can see why he’s Christine’s favorite. He’s amazing. A nearly perfect dog. He is, however, unbelievably needy of Mama. There are, essentially two things in this dog’s life. Mama, and food. Everything else is a distant who gives a crap.
These dogs are my best buds, and I don’t really remember what life was like without them, but when we got pregnant, I was worried about how this would go over with them. Jack, I was convinced, would be inconsolably jealous and a potential aggressor. His time with Mama would be sacrificed in a big way. Child lover Molly, I was convinced would smother Cole in an attempt to love him up.
It didn’t really work out that way at all.
When Cole was born, we did what all the books say to do, I brought home blankets and clothing from the hospital that smelled of the baby. Jack initially tried to take a baby hat from me like it was a treat, which was not an exciting development. Three days after the birth, we all came home. Christine went inside first to greet the dogs, while I took my time bringing in the car seat and our little burrito. Initially, it didn’t even register to them that there was someone else in the apartment. Eventually, they got curious and definitely wanted to know what was up. Sort of shockingly, they were both scared of Cole! Jack was particularly leery, and Molly, after quick sniff, kept to herself. I was in Ultra Protector Dad mode, and between that and Mama being worn out, I think they somehow knew their new roles right away.
Now, six weeks in, the dogs are pretty comfortable/resigned to their demotion on the attention hierarchy. From the first night on, when were are told to get off the bed, they do so with enthusiasm. But they have always found a way back up onto the bed. Even now though, they are surprisingly less interested in Cole than I expected. They have this unsettling way of climbing onto the bed and plopping down heavily next to Cole without ever even grazing him. Molly occasionally comes up and give the kid a lick on the head before mom shoos her away. Jack isn’t interested, but isn’t afraid either. He takes his attention from Mama when he can get it, the same way he takes his food.
Ultimately all dogs are different, and I can’t vouch for how yours might behave, but I am fortunate that so far, my story about the dogs and the baby is a mild one at best, and am still thankful for having these two around.
Lifestream
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Shared Taken with instagram.
