Getting used to it

It still seems very surreal that we're living in Nashville now. Of course, we still haven't even been here a week, but I still catch myself saying things like "Well, at home, the mailman came around one o'clock." And then I realize, wait, Twentynine Palms is not our home anymore. This is!

I suppose it will seem more real when we finally get all our stuff unpacked. The movers just delivered our furniture and sixty gazillion boxes yesterday, and needless to say, our house is an ocean of boxes right now. We have our bed up, and William's room is more or less in place, so that does help reduce the feeling of camping out a bit. I hope we'll feel even more at home once I can unearth all our dishes and silverware so we can stop using the plastic stuff.

I think the fact that we don't yet have an established routine is also making me feel a little bit disoriented. In Twentynine Palms, we did more or less the same thing on most weekdays: go to the Y for play class in the morning, come home, have lunch, William takes a nap, wake up and go to the store or the library or physical therapy, etc. or later, go to the pool for swimming lessons, come home, have lunch, William takes a nap, wake up and play, have dinner, etc. We'll have to figure out some kind of routine once David starts his new job--until I find a new job eventually, too. In the meantime, we'll just do some exploring and experimenting!

I did want to give a shout out to my friend, Jennifer. It may not have been hard to leave Twentynine Palms, but it was hard to leave her behind! We could burn up some serious time talking on the phone or in person while our kids played together. Jennifer always has had good advice for me since she has two children, and I was forever bugging her with questions; you know, like ideas for finger foods, cool toys, which medicine is better to give for what, what size to buy in swim diapers, etc. And we'd talk about all sorts of other stuff, too, and it was hilarious the way one of us would call the other to ask a quick question, and an hour later, we'd still be chatting! Jadyn and William have more or less been hanging out together since they were born, and I know I'll miss seeing her, her big brother Jake, and her mom all the time. But I fully expect to hear from her often (hint, hint, Jenn, if you're reading this!) Here's a photo that we took together on our last day in the Stumps:
















In case anyone was wondering, or even if you're not, William's walking is continuing to improve by leaps and bounds. And he really seems to like the carpet here since it provides a much softer landing space when he inevitably topples over or drops to his knees. He still throws his arms wide in that hilarious toddler stagger, but he's really getting much better at putting it all together. Every day, he seems to be able to walk further. He also likes his new swing in the backyard. He always enjoyed swinging at Jake and Jadyn's house and at Luckie Park, and now he has a swing of his very own, and he's darn happy about it. I just can't seem to push him high enough, though; he wants to go higher, faster, higher, faster!

Looks like we made it

We made it. We made it!

But you know...now it makes total sense to me, knowing that Willie Nelson was high all the time when he sang "I just can't wait to get on the road again." Because I just couldn't wait to get off the road again. And now that I'm off, I plan to stay off for a good long time.

But the important thing is...we made it to Nashville. Woo! But getting here, well, that was an adventure worthy of a storyteller. I may not be able to do it justice, but I'll try to at least give you the gist.

We may not have jolted across the plains in a covered wagon or eaten buffalo meat, but we did have 1) one emergency doctor's visit in Albuquerque (David); 2) two lost (but subsequently found) watches (no word on whether they were blind but now see) (Diane); 3) one case of aggravated tendonitis in the wrist from too much carrying and driving (me); and 4) one case of croup (William). And I think I can fairly say that I've had more than my fill of Holiday Inn Express cinnamon rolls for the time being.

We started out last Wednesday from the Holiday Inn Express in 29 Palms. We had breakfast with Dr. Perkins, aka Dr. Mimi, and then dropped off our keys and sped out of town. I got my first (and thankfully) last look at the "town" of Amboy, or at least its remains baking in the 118 degree shimmers of heat. Then we decided to stop for lunch in Needles. Well, we stopped at KFC, and you know, you'd think that we'd be all clear, since it wasn't the 29 Palms KFC, but no. The good news is no, they were not out of chicken, but that was about the only thing that went right there. God, what were we thinking? It was still the desert! I had to resort, finally, to using my Omniscient Mom Voice in order to procure some napkins from the clueless counter girl. I don't break that Voice out very often, so when I do, all I can say is look out. I got my napkins. We ate lunch. But after that, I declared a moratorium on KFCs for the time being. Until they can regain my trust.

But hey, we did get a couple of cute pictures outside this wagon next to the KFC.































Finally, we made it to Tasayan, Arizona. We dropped our stuff at a motel and headed to see the Grand Canyon. And "Grand" is really not a strong enough word to describe it. It is majestic. It is incredible. The colors, the striations in the rock, they barely look real. With the sun slanting from the west, the ridges are sharp in the light, cutting dramatic shadows. I felt silly even taking photos, knowing that I've seen a million photos of the canyon and never felt anything from seeing them. But we tried.

















We barely got a taste of the canyon, since we only spent a few hours there, gaping at it. But we had to head out Thursday morning. We had a lot of road left in front of us. We ate lunch in Flagstaff...somehow Diane and David managed to pull up in front of KFC and convince me to go in, and all I can say is that they must have cast a spell on me or something, but luckily, it was an uneventful experience. Around that time, she discovered that her two lost watches were actually hiding in the bottom of her purse, and we all joked about that for awhile. At least one good thing came out of us going to KFC.

We turned east and pressed on toward Albuquerque. I listened to XM radio and talked to Mom for a little while on my cell phone, while Diane made up lyrics to new songs and taught William an extended version of Pattycake in the backseat of David's car in front of me. We ate pancakes in an IHOP in Albuquerque and planned the next day's drive and nighttime destination, Oklahoma City. Allowing some time to sleep in the next morning, we'd have about eight hours on the road and still be able to get there by dinnertime, David speculated. We all could use a good night's sleep.

Unfortunately--yeah, you all knew that was coming--William didn't want to settle down that night. We didn't have a separate room or nook for his Pack'n'Play, so he did his little bob-and-weave stand-up routine until we gave up and turned off the lights. Which might have been okay if we all could have stayed in bed the next morning, but instead, David woke up at dawn with an annoying itch on his face. He got up to examine what turned out to be a rash on his face, and William didn't miss a thing. He was standing up in the Pack'n'Play at 6:30, fussing and unwilling to go back to sleep. Worse, David's rash seemed to be spreading, and his face was swelling around his lips and chin, and he flapped around the hotel room in distress. I flipped open the phone book and found the number for a local Air Force base. David called to see if a doctor in the clinic on base would take him for an emergency urgent care visit, making sure to emphasize that he was a doctor and just needed a prescription and it wouldn't take long. Around 11:30 a.m., prescription in hand, he met up with Diane, William and me--we drove to historic Old Town and bought jewelry--and we headed out on the road. Again. David was grumpy and worried about his face, and we were all tired, but we had to keep on truckin'. Insert your favorite road song lyric here.

And God love Jack Kerouac and all the other great writers who have waxed and rhapsodized about the open road, but I hate it. I hate the long endless mocking expanse of highway. I hate the monotony of the medians, even when they're pretty. I even start to hate fast food after I've had it for more than three straight days. Stuckeys and Love's Truck Stops lose their campy allure after the first 100 you've seen. And the West doesn't even have many of those hilarious "Go to church or the devil will git you" signs to entertain you along the way. What a bust. I listened to whatever baseball games I could find on the radio and watched my gas gauge and tried, really tried, to find some romance in the Road. But how much romance can there be when you're mostly consumed with thinking 1) I hope we can find a gas station that's both not scary and has a clean restroom, 2) where can we stop for lunch where we can find appropriate food to feed a toddler, 3) I hope they have a changing table there because I am not changing the poopy diaper of a wriggly toddler on the narrow backseat of my car, 4) am I ever going to get good cell phone coverage ever again, and 5) gosh, I hope he takes a mega-long nap and gives Diane a rest from reading "Babybug" and the panda book for the ninetieth time.

Diane was a trooper, she really was. She read countless books to William and played endless games with him. She handed him scores of Goldfish crackers, picked up his binky when he inevitably dropped it, and oversaw the administration of water and milk sippy cups on a regular basis. I had tried to pack a lot of books for William to read on the trip, but you know, reading a 12-page book only lasts so long, and even if you have a dozen board books, that doesn't soak up that much time. William, to be fair, behaved really well in the car. Better than most adults, I'd say. But who wants to be strapped into a carseat all day every day for the better part of a week?

We were all grouchy when we finally got to OK City. And it was late, due to our late start. We listlessly put away some more McDonald's while we sat on our hotel beds, and then started dreading the next day. Diane held William wWihen I tried to feed him dinner on the hotel room floor, then we gave him a quick bath (and he cried because I had to keep running more water into the tub because water kept seeping down the drain, and he was frightened by the gush of water from the faucet). Once again, William stayed awake while we did, but no one was in the mood for a late night, despite the fact that we had once again switched time zones.

The next day was better. William definitely thought so: Mama Dee gave him butterscotch pudding and Froot Loops for breakfast, woohoo! We knew we were headed to Memphis and Grandaddy Dudley's house, and I figured that we'd seen the worst of the trip. The trees crowded up against the highway were a relief after the lonesome wide open spaces of the west. Grandaddy was thrilled to see us, and we were happy to see him, too. William, especially.


















By that time, William had developed a cough. And my sensitive ears picked up on the timbre of the cough as soon as I heard it: the croup. It worsened Saturday night, and I got up in the night, time and again, to comfort him. At one point, David and I realized he was burning up, and we gave him a dose of Motrin, but we managed to spill half of it on his second-to-last clean pair of pajamas. Blearily, I changed his pajamas and said a silent prayer of thanks that the trip was nearly over. I tossed and turned on the sleeper sofa in Grandaddy's den, and then suddenly, it was morning. Sunday morning, the last leg of the trip in front of us. We bid Grandaddy Dudley farewell and I promised to come back to visit soon.



















And just a few hours later, we were pulling up in front of our new house! Our big wonderful empty house.

















While Diane guarded an exhausted William, asleep in his PnP in his braned new bedroom, David and I drove to a nearby (!) Target and gleefully filled up a shopping cart. We bought toilet paper and dishwashing liquid and hand soap and a broom and oh, all sorts of goodies. We even ran into people we know at the Target. And today, after a visit with William's new doctor, we went to Sonic and got cherry limeades and then went to Toys R Us and bought a swing for William's new swingset. And we finished up our first complete day in Nashville by making a wide-eyed, giddy tour of the new Publix grocery store that is mere minutes from our front door. David and I probably looked like idiots, cheering aloud as we read the expiration dates from the bottoms of the jars of mayo and peanut butter. "May 2009! Yeah!" David cried, plunking down a jar of Hellman's in the cart. Take that, silly 29 Palms commissary, with your mayonnaise that expires after about five weeks.

Right now, I'm hunkered down in the empty bonus room on the second floor of our new house. William is asleep. My brother left a little while ago, having come over for the tour of the new house and to share a pizza. David's wandering around the room in front of me, thinking about buying another new TV--his current favorite daydream. I guess I'll sign off for now. I'm so glad that we are here, we are alive and healthy (er, mostly), and the trip is OVER. Buenos noches. I'm off to sleep in my happy new room.

Walking! We have walking!

We interrupt this regularly scheduled roadtrip to bring you major news.

William is walking. That's right. WALKING!

Let's say it some more, shall we? Walking! Walkingwalkingwalking!

He's been tentatively taking a step for about a week now. He would take a step, think better of it, then slowly crumple to the floor and crawl away. Then, on Sunday afternoon, William took a few halting steps in the pool. And then last night, here in our hotel room in 29 Palms, he took several steps, and Diane, David and I cheered madly (and yes, with some delighted surprise). He lapped up the attention and kept on trying. And today, he's managed to log several series of at least six or seven steps in a row!

Of course, he staggers a bit like a drunk, but he gets this wonderful huge smile on his face, like he knows he's accomplishing something special. Which of course he is! He's so funny.

Walking at last! I feel like he invented walking or something, I'm so proud. My friend Jennifer speculated that maybe he hadn't tried more to walk earlier because we had that scary tile floor all over our house--and he's smart enough to know that it hurts when you fall down on a floor like that. Makes sense to me. I guess it just took some confidence-building, a little leap of faith, and some carpet to get him moving on two legs.

Yay!

Okay. That's the big news. Isn't it funny that William saved this up for the last few hours that we are living here in the Stumps? We head out tomorrow morning...

At long last...

Well, this is almost it, kids. We're about 60 hours from leaving Twentynine Palms for good. We've been frantically throwing stuff out, sorting and organizing, packing and fretting all day. Tomorrow the movers arrive to start the real packing.

I keep hearing the "Beverly Hillbillies" theme song running through my head. I keep trying to figure out a cute way to adapt it to our situation, but I'm having some trouble. I was never much of a lyricist anyway. The most important part is "loaded up the truck and moved the family" anyway.

Desperate to get away from the chaos that is moving, I took William and his grandmother, Mama Dee, to the pool on base this afternoon.
















William got to say goodbye to his friend Madison. He's known Madison longer than just about anyone else. They've both grown so much over the past year that it's almost hard to believe. We'll miss Madison.




















And before we have to dismantle his crib and pack away all his stuff, William is getting one last night's sleep in his room tonight. Here he is with his daddy, hamming it up while they read "Goodnight Moon."


















The thought that we are leaving this house has made me a little nostalgic. It's not that I really love this house, but we brought William home from the hospital to this house. This is his very first home. So far, it's been his only home. This is what he knows. This is the house where we became parents. Leaving means that we're moving on, and William is growing up. So, while that's good, definitely good, it's also made me a little reflective. William will likely never see his first house. Yet, this is the house where we first got to know him and love him.

Four years. It's been four years to the day that we arrived here. Back then, it was just David and me. I think I cried. It was hot, blazingly, searingly hot, and I remember being in a breathless shock from the unfamiliar heat. We cowered inside in the air-conditioning and ordered pizza from Papa John's the first night in this house. We ate it while sitting on the bare floor, since our furniture was still in transit. And I tried not to think about how long we'd have to live here. And now we're done. We arrived around Independence Day in 2003, and now we're celebrating our new independence by getting the heck out of Dodge on Independence Day in 2007.

And, oh, are we ready to be in Nashville at long last! The trees, the grass, the family close by, the Targets close by! This will likely be my last blog posting for a few days, as we begin the Great Journey East. I envision myself a latter-day Laura Ingalls, only my covered wagon is a Mazda Protege with satellite radio. Instead of nibbling on stale sourdough biscuits, William and I'll likely be downing some Cheez-Its and Ritz crackers. And hopefully, God willing, we'll cover more than about 15 miles a day. We're shooting for a final arrival in the country music capital on Sunday. We're going to veer off and check out the Grand Canyon first, but then we'll probably drive straight on.

Hope everyone has a great Fourth of July. I'll try to check email and comments here when we stop for the nights along the way, so drop me a line and say "hi."

The last swimming lesson

William officially finished his first set of swimming lessons today and received a certificate, noting the accomplishments of "SuperWilliam" in the pool.




















I hate that the classes are over because he was finally getting to the point where he was really, really enjoying himself. He was grinning and giggling and laughing today, and for the first time, he didn't even cry when he was getting into the pool. And he was also leaning forward so I could tow him into the pool for "pull-ins", which he loves to do now.

Here's William with his fellow Water Baby graduates:
















And here he is with his buddy Jadyn, the budding Olympic swimmer (they're testing out the baby pool after two solid weeks of the big pool):
















And here I am with William, relaxing in the baby pool. We spent the first half of class doing our usual routines in the big pool--Ring Around the Rosy, pull-ins, passing back and forth to one of the instructors--then got to splash around in the little pool at the end of class. Usually there's a day camp group that takes over the baby pool but not today.















We had a really good time during the entire session of Water Babies. It wasn't a big class, so it never felt too chaotic. And we already knew all the other moms and babies, so it was like a big reunion from the Y and the breastfeeding group at the hospital. I hope we can get in for some swimming lessons at the Y in Nashville once we move back. Now that William is comfortable in the pool with me, I want to try to keep it up. Plus, his daddy hasn't gotten a chance to take a spin around the pool with him yet, so I want to see if we can work that out, too.

Just growing

Watching William continue to grow up constantly amazes me. He literally changes every day, and it's just incredible. Sometimes I just sit there and watch him, as he cruises around and think, "How is it even possible that this is the same person who was a little baby just a year ago?" I mean, you can look at his pictures and tell that it's him, but he's just such a person now. He understands so much of what we say to him. It constantly amazes me that he will tool off to get his sippy cup of milk if I ask him where his milk went. Or get this! Now he's turning books and flash cards around if they're upside down so that he can look at them the right way. I love it when he does that.

We took him in to see his pediatrician a couple days ago for an early 15 month appointment. He weighed over 25 pounds and was over 31 inches tall. William's just about at the 75th percentile for height and weight now. Big kid! Needless to say, he's far outmeasuring his father at the same period in his life. We looked up David's stats, and David didn't hit 24 pounds until he was two years old! So David's hoping that William will at least outgrow him. I'm pretty sure it's looking good for that.

There was something else David wanted me to report on...Oh yes. You know how we always read "Goodnight Moon" to William every night before bed? Well, every time that David gets to the part about "the old lady whispering hush," William gives a soft shriek. We were a bit mystified at first, but then David figured it out. Every time we're in a restaurant and William starts to get bored, he begins to call and shriek in a progressively louder voice (See: Reasons we probably shouldn't take William out to eat for awhile). We always say things like "Hush," and "Sssh," and "Use your inside voice, William" (not that I think a 14 month old really has good grasp on the concept of an inside voice yet, but oh well). And William delights in shrieking louder, usually with a huge smile on his face because he knows that he's doing the exact opposite of what we want him to do. So when he hears "hush," he wants to make noise. That's my boy.

Well, we're off to our very last swimming lesson. Today, we get to swim in the baby pool, so we're all excited about that.

William's First Big Boy Haircut

We marked yet another rite of passage today. William got his very first Official Haircut. A Big Boy Haircut, in fact. I've been snipping off stray pieces of hair, here and there, with my nail scissors since last fall, but it was time for a real haircut. So I took him to the beauty parlor on base for the big event.

And how silly is this? As I was driving to the salon, I started to get nervous! I mean, William really doesn't have that much hair. There was really only so much that anyone could really do to it. So why was I feeling all jittery? I don't get nervous before his doctor's appointments anymore. And I've even become somewhat fatalistic about my own hair appointments (after weathering a few disasters, including one chronicled here last July). So there I was, clenching the steering wheel and shaking my head over the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

And of course, I was all prepared to put up my dukes in defending the "no high-and-tight under any circumstances" line, too.

No need to worry, it turned out. Miss Nancy was all ready for him. No one else was even in the salon, so it was nice and quiet and non-chaotic. The perfect environment for a young man about to experience his first haircut (and his anxious mother). And Nancy was the perfect person to cut a young child's hair for the first time. She sat William on this neat wooden horse thing so he'd be positioned correctly. Then she showed him the cape and pointed out all the animals printed on it: the monkeys, the elephants, etc. And then she got to work.

































He looks a little solemn here, doesn't he?




















But there were no tears, no crying, no shrieking. And William was really good, too. (Heh.)

In fact, the whole thing only took about ten minutes. Nancy sprayed his hair occasionally with a spray bottle with a polar bear on top, and William liked that a lot.















She talked to him, told him how he was going to look like such a big handsome boy when she was finished. (But of course, right?)



















Meanwhile, I was clicking madly away, taking picture after picture. During my career as a journalist, I learned from both professional photographers and personal experience that the best way to get a good photograph is to take a bunch. If you take 20 photos, you might get one or two really good ones. But if you only take one, well, you're gambling. Digital cameras are a godsend. Especially when you're trying to capture the elusive and ever-changing expressions on your child's face.

The shutterbugging also had the effect of dampening my nervousness. I was too busy to worry about the scissors.















Nancy moved quickly and gently, and before either of us knew it, it was done!



















While I oohed and aahed over this little boy who suddenly looked so grown up, Nancy gathered all the little wispy blonde locks and put them in an envelope for me to take home. Unfortunately she was out of certificates for boys, but she gave one of the girl's certificates, just in case.

Doesn't he look good? I think William looks a lot more like David, now that he's got a big boy haircut.




















The best after-photo:



















So whew! We got through that, and it was just fine. So many things seem to turn out Just Fine, no matter how much energy I expend worrying about them in advance. There's a lesson to be learned in that. Mothers-to-be who are reading this, you might want to remember that, too. (You know, along with the other important lessons, which are Learn to Love the Bouncy Seat and Always Pack Stuff In Case You Get Stranded in Dallas. And wear sunscreen. Okay, that's not really a lesson. But it's still good advice.)

Goodbye, Chris

William and I had one last lunch with my friend Chris Mahr yesterday.



















For old times' sake, we ate at China Wok in Palm Desert. Back in the olden days (i.e. when we were both still working for The Desert Sun), Chris and I ordered takeout from there at least once a week. We didn't have to look at the menus yesterday; we just ordered our usual. Thank goodness they still serve those! I would have been pretty devastated if I couldn't have chicken with mushrooms one last time.

This time, I had to share my chicken and mushrooms. William was perfectly happy with his banana, veggies and cheese...until the waitress deposited my plate of fragrant food on the table in front of him. If you don't want William to have any of your food, you pretty much have to keep it out of his sight. And sometimes that doesn't even work. You have to be pretty furtive about if if you're eating something that you don't want to share or, for food allergy reasons, can't share. It's no use trying to tell this hungry one-year-old that he can't have any of that delicious-smelling food that you're inhaling. "Sorry, honey, but you can't have any of my lobster burrito because it's not a good idea to introduce a child your age to shellfish. Maybe when you're three." Sure. Good luck with that. Actually, we've done just that. You just have to be firm. And not mind feeling a bit like a heel. :)

Anyway, it was great to see Chris again before we move. She's been a terrific friend to me, and I'll miss her a lot.

* * * * *

David wants me to report that William sounds like the Hamburglar. Remember the Hamburgler? I'd forgotten about him, myself, until we stopped for dinner at Mickey D's in Temecula a couple weeks ago. That's the night that William had his very first Happy Meal. Anyway, the walls had pictures of the Hamburgler, Mayor McCheese, Grimace, and the Fry Guys. Ah, memories from the past! Well, William started babbling some new words (I guess you could call them words) last week, and David swears it sounds like the Hamburgler. William actually says something that sounds like "gogglegogglegoggle," while the Hamburglar used to say "Rubblerubblerubble." But it's the same sort of pattern of sounds. You'd swear, too, that William really believe he's saying something important. And heck, maybe he is. It's not his fault that we just don't speak that language.

(Is that really how to spell Hamburglar? It just looks weird to me.)

William is also standing on his own for much longer periods of time. People keep asking me if he's walking yet, and I have to say that he can, but he only will do it if he's holding my hands or pushing something like a push toy or his stroller. But he seems to be working on his confidence level: he will actually walk when he's only holding onto one hand now. So I think that, for William, this standing and walking thing is mostly about just developing the confidence to just do it.

Also, he knows that he can get places much faster if he just drops to the floor and crawls because he's the World's Fastest Crawler. But I think he's coming around. He stood up and drank out of his sippy cup while helping his daddy unload the dishwasher this morning. I think it's only a matter of time. So he's a late walker. Big deal. He's got the fine motor and social skills down pat. And as I always say, I learned how to read two years before I learned how to tie my shoes. (Er, but I still tie them in the bunny-ears style. Oh well.)

More of the Water Baby

And we have a few action shots of swimming class today.

William prepares to "jump" into the pool:
















William swims!















And here's a group shot of Jennifer and Jadyn and me and William. It's hard to get both kids to look at the camera, especially at the same time.















William was pretty tired by the end of class, when we took these pictures, so he wasn't as smiley as he could have been. Oh well.

Water Baby

We are now on Day Three of swim lessons at the local pool.

Ostensibly, the purpose of the class is to get babies and toddlers to not be afraid of the water. The secondary purpose is just to splash around and have fun. William's got the second part down, and he's working on the first part. It helps that there are only three other mommy-baby pairs in the class, so it's not too overwhelming--and he knows all of them.

Today's lesson didn't start out so great. William objected when I changed him out of his regular clothes and into his swim diaper and bathing suit.




















But he calmed down once he got all suited up (and slicked up with a double coating of sunscreen).



















This is my favorite picture from today. He looks like an imp. Well, after all, He IS an imp!




















I admit, I had figured that it would take William a couple days to get used to getting into the big pool. The water's cold when you first get in, and it can be a little scary to a little guy. He did great on the first day, but he was fussy yesterday. He didn't fuss the whole time, fortunately, but he did get upset a few times.

Today was better. William tensed up a bit when we lowered ourselves into the water, but he didn't cry. He even enjoyed it when one of the instructors and I passed him back and forth, and he grinned when we led the "train" of babies and mommies around our little shallow end of the pool. But there are certain ways that I hold him that he doesn't like very much, and he starts to get agitated. The problem is, I can't always figure out what those positions are, except that I know he doesn't like being on his back. Right now, his favorite thing is when I sit him on the side of the pool and ask him to "jump" into my arms. He doesn't really jump, of course, but he will lean foward and then I can pull him gently by the arms into the water. Then I push off backward and tow him with me, and he thinks that's Big Fun.

And, I have to brag here for a moment. The instructor suggested that we gently let them go underwater for an instant. William's little friend Jadyn is such a water bug that she's already doing that with much panache, but today she wasn't in class. So it was up to William to give it a try. I told him what we were going to do, and then gently sank down until his head went underwater. And then I immediately popped him back up, and everyone cheered and applauded. He blinked and stared as us from underneath the water streaming down his face and dripping from the brim of his hat. But he didn't cry! And he didn't get upset! I didn't do it again, though. Didn't want to push my luck.




















I don't have any in-the-water pictures yet because we have to stay with our babies when they're in the pool. I'll try to get someone to help us out tomorrow and shoot a few action shots. In the meantime, here's one last picture of William--after class, this time, with his wet hair as proof that he went underwater.

The Farewell Tour of San Diego

Well, en route to Nashville, we have concluded one crucial step of the preparations. We just wrapped our Farewell Tour to San Diego. We had the propaganda weather that we never had when we actually lived there, and it was just perfect for playing on the beach in the mornings. It was so clear that there was a really terrific view of the point (Point Loma) in one direction and the Hotel Del Coronado in the other.




























I never did put William in his bathing suit because, unlike all those brave (or deluded; take your pick) tourists who were also staying at the Navy Lodge on Coronado with us, I used to live there and I know all too well how chilly it can get on the beach. Also, the water is ice cold. I walked William down to the water and let him dip his tootsies in the surf, and that was about as much as either of us was willing to take of that.

So we played on the sand mostly.


















It was a little hard to say a final goodbye to San Diego. I mean, I won't miss the desert and 29 Palms, but San Diego is special. We lived there for two years and then visited for another four, so I feel like I really know the city. I'll miss eating lobster burritos at El Zarape, our favorite neighborhood hole-in-the-wall, and I'll miss gazing at the Pacific ocean from the car window or a seat in a cafe. We haven't lived there for awhile, so it's not like we're really leaving San Diego. But yet, we are. Who knows when we'll get back to visit again? It's not that we aren't dancing with joy at the prospect of moving to Nashville (because believe me, we are!). But we have a lot of good memories from San Diego. David asked me to marry him at sunset on a rocky bluff at Sunset Cliffs, and we've licked dripping ice cream cones countless times on the patio at the Hotel Del Coronado. We'll miss it. I told William that he may not remember the times we've taken him to San Diego, but I will. And I'll tell him about playing on the beach and visiting the zoo.

Speaking of the zoo...














I took William to the zoo on Wednesday morning, and all I can say is, what a difference a couple of months makes. He not only stayed awake the entire time we were there, but he was really engaged with watching the animals. He was fascinated by the polar bear that sat right by the glass, and he pointed excitedly and wiggled and strained in my arms when we walked around the giraffe yard. He seemed to recognize the monkeys from the monkeys in his books, and he stared at the panda in the tree for a long time, with wide eyes. In the picture above, he got up close and personal with a peacock. I'm not sure he understood what it was, but he sure did recognize the two ducks that kept parading by his high chair when it was lunchtime. I had a hard time getting him to eat his yogurt and mandarin oranges because he kept whipping his head around to find the ducks. "Du! Du!"

We had one last final meal with our friend Kristin, who we will dearly miss. And yes, I took William to eat at the Hotel Del Coronado, too. I'm glad that William and I tagged along with David while he did the transitional class for the Navy. It was a nice week. Well, except for the fact that William never went to sleep until we turned out all the lights; he just stood there in his Pack n Play and babbled in his happy little baby voice. But the lack of sleep did take its toll. By Friday night, William was standing there, weaving from side to side, with his eyelids at half mast, but he was determined to outlast us, by George. Finally I snapped off the lamp, and he hit the PnP mattress with a thunk a minute later. Poor little guy. He just didn't want to miss a second of his last trip to San Diego, I guess.

Isn't it funny, though, how we've yearned for so long to leave, and now that we're really leaving, we're realizing that we're going to miss some things about California?

Happy Father's Day, 2007 version

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there, particularly my husband, my own daddy, my father in law, and my grandaddies.

William would also like to wish his own daddy a Happy Father's Day for the second time. (Wow, it's already their second Father's Day together!)















Thanks to David for being a great, enthusiastic, involved father to William. It's David who gives William a bath each night, then dresses him for bed and reads "Goodnight Moon." I think they both look forward to it. And boy, you should see William's face light up when David comes home from work every day. It's like Elvis has entered the building. I always hear about these fathers who are only minimally involved in their children's lives, and I am always incredibly grateful that I'm not married to a man like that! David changes messy diapers, pushes the stroller, sings night-night songs and plays with the toys.

Thanks to my father for raising me, putting up with me (see: teaching me to drive, surviving the year that I took trigonometry), putting me through school and teaching me how to do all sorts of things. For my toolbox. And for always being there for me now.

Thanks to Aaron for raising David and helping him become the person he is today. And thank you for always being so welcoming and loving to me. It really means a lot to me, and I just wanted you to know. (Also, go Braves!)

And thanks to Grandaddy Bill and Grandaddy Dudley for being such terrific grandfathers---and now great-grandfathers! I have so many terrific memories that involve both of you.

And now, to mark the occasion, I am fixing to make David one of his favorite meals: scrambled eggs and bacon. If William plays his cards right, he might score some, too. Hope you all are having a great Father's Day!

This one's for you, Dad

At long long last, we have found a food that William doesn't like.

Drum roll, please.














Lettuce.

Stranded in Dallas

Well, not taking a car seat with me on our flight came back to haunt me. Why, yes, I did get stranded overnight in Dallas on Friday with a one-year-old, how did you ever guess?

So Mom and Daddy drove William and me to Baton Rouge on Friday afternoon. Turns out, the incoming flight was delayed out of Dallas, so we were having to wait on that plane to arrive. But then, the airport inexplicably let another plane full of passengers depart to Dallas on a plane that arrived from Dallas before ours arrived, even though our flight should have bumped that second flight. Of course, I couldn't get a person on the phone to find out what I should do, and they only had one gate agent in BR working the desk. And of course, she was swarmed by other annoyed passengers, including one woman whom I barked at when she tried to get in line before me. I think she was sufficiently scared by the sight of a stressed-out mother because she was ingratiatingly nice to me the rest of the time. She was too old to be dressing like Paris Hilton anyway, if you ask me. But I still didn't manage to get ahold of the gate agent to ask what in the world I was going to do if we missed our connection. So I was starting to freak out a little. Okay, more than a little. What would we do if we missed our connection, I fretted.

Which, of course, we did. By the time we got to Dallas, it was about 40 minutes or so after our connecting flight departed to California. I was especially irritated to see that if they had let me and my fellow passengers depart when they let the second flight leave, we could have made our connection. Grr. The fact that William and I were both hungry because we hadn't eaten dinner yet, due to the delays, was not helping matters.

And because it was Dallas and I have bad luck in Dallas, I couldn't get a single person to help me. There I was, pushing the stroller from gate to gate, from info desk to info desk, just trying to find an actual human being who could freakin' tell me what to do to get on a plane to California. After about six tries, a lovely woman named Bernice finally took pity on me and helped. I was so tired and frustrated that I just couldn't believe we were going to be stranded. I started to cry. There I was, with tears rolling down my cheeks, because I just wanted to go home. But of course, the best she could do was book me on a flight the next morning. I looked at her in horror, then down at the (cranky) baby in his stroller. No way were we hunkering down in the airport all night.

So Bernice called hotels until she could find one that would provide a free shuttle service AND had a crib available, which you would think would be incredibly common in the greater Dallas area but apparently not. But of course, the airline wasn't willing to pay for my hotel. I did get a discount rate, what they term a "distress rate." Boy, is that an appropriate name or what! Of course, my suitcase with all our stuff was locked up and I'd have to do without it. Great. All I had with me was the diaper bag. Luckily, I at least had a clean T-shirt and a clean pair of underwear in there for me, and a clean outfit for William. But I had no toiletries at all. And no milk for William, either, although I did have a few jars of food.

Pushing William in front of me, I forlornly stumbled into the closest airline shop and bought a toothbrush and toothpaste for me and a navy T-shirt for William to sleep in. Then we went outside and waited for an hour for the hotel shuttle. We must have seen fifty other shuttles whiz by, stopping to see if we were their next customers, but ours was nowhere in sight. Finally I called the hotel and said, in very tight tones, "We were told that a shuttle would pick us up at Gate B7 twenty minutes from the time we called. That was an hour ago. When do you expect someone to be here because I have a small child and I need to get him fed and to bed."

The shuttle arrived a few minutes later. I was under the impression it would be an actual shuttle. But nope. It was a minivan. A minivan without any available car seat or booster seat. I buckled William directly into middle bench seat seatbelt and held my breath the entire ride; that's when I was cursing myself for not having a carseat. The one time I don't have one with me. God.

After we arrived at the hotel and checked in, I asked about getting some milk and food. The hotel seemingly only had two staff members: Iwa, the front desk guy, and Jose, who did everything else. Iwa got on his trusty little walky-talky and summoned Jose back again from the shuttle bus driver's seat and asked him to take us over to a 7-11 so I could buy some milk and some food (and deodorant) for me. By that time it was after 9 p.m. After I made a mad dash through the 7-11, Jose the Shuttle Driver dropped us off at the hotel again, and I took William upstairs. But...no crib. I fed him dinner and then called the front desk. Apparently, Jose was the only one who could fetch us the crib...and he was going back to the airport to retrieve more distressed travellers like us. Iwa, of course, couldn't leave the front desk. So we waited another hour for good ol' Jose to deliver the rather scary-looking, Romanian-orphanage-style crib with its iron bars and lumpy mattress.

I gave William a short bath and then dressed him in his new T-shirt. He was not amused by his new bed.















I finally brought him into bed with me, where we fell asleep together, nestled in the pillows, watching "SportsCenter." Then I transferred William into the crib, where he slept the rest of the night. Meanwhile, I tossed and turned in the bed, worrying about whether our suitcase would get permanently lost and if we would have trouble getting home the next day.

The upside of the whole experience was that at least we got breakfast in the hotel before leaving for the airport. William got his milk and Cheerios--and a banana. I had orange juice and Frosted Flakes, a childhood fave. And we didn't have any trouble with our flight on Saturday morning; we even sat next to a very nice grandmother who was happy to play with William and hold his flashcards for him. And our suitcase made it to Palm Springs, too. Also, and thank goodness for this, that should be our last time flying for awhile. Incidentally, the weather on Friday? Just fine. Leave it to me to get stranded in Dallas overnight when the forecast is warm and sunny and perfect.

But man. I hate DFW. It is the Black Hole, the Bermuda Triangle of Airports. I have never had a good experience there. My parents have gotten stranded there before, too, so I guess the DFW bad karma affects the whole Larson clan. I'm hoping it doesn't rub off on the Wyckoff side of my family.

So that's the whole sad tale. Aren't we pitiful?

Here is the moral of this sad tale. Actually two morals: 1) Be better prepared for the worst, because if you're going to be anywhere within 200 miles of Dallas, you can pretty much count on the worst; and 2) There are some things you just can't control. So, stick a toothbrush, deodorant and clean underpants in your carry-on bag, even if you think you don't have room for them. And find a way to be as Zen as possible if the worst does happen, which again, if you're near Dallas, it will. I think I can do the first part. The second one, I need to work on.

Natchez in Review

I think I can safely say that William loved visiting with his grandparents in Natchez. He got lots of attention, to put it mildly.

Here we are at church last Sunday.
































With Grandmama:
































Mom and Daddy really enjoyed his being around too. But Mom did ask me if Diane was exhausted after keeping William all day when we were looking for a house back in March. Hee hee. (For the record, Diane, would you like to weigh in?)

He splashed in the big bathtub...

















And of course, he loved all the food. Here's the photo of William eating grits for the first time. This picture is also important because it was taken at the Marketplace Cafe, my favorite place to eat in Natchez (we ate there at least five times when we were in town).



















He also practiced walking when we visited Mama Lou and Grandaddy Bill in Vicksburg...Mom has a picture of me at the same age in this very location.















I love this picture. It looks like he's just pushing his grandaddy forward...but also checking to make sure that all his fans are watching his every move.



















William, posing with his mama, grandmama and great-grandmama:

















Three generations of Williams, version two:
















He just looks all big and pink and happy, doesn't he? That's probably a good way to describe him most of the time, in fact. William is such a ham. Such a ham, in fact, that it's hard to capture the sheer hamminess on film sometimes. He just moves too fast! Mom and I were constantly trying to capture certain things with our cameras, like the vaunted "all done" and the way he waves to people. Thank goodness for digital cameras.

I'll post the, erm, interesting story of our return to the desert later, when I've sufficiently recovered from it.

"I'm a mommy"

Remember how much I agonized over not going back to work last summer? Remember how much I worried about what it would do to my career, to my identity, blah blah blah? How in the past, I've always said things like it's good for a mother to have a career because she's a good role model for her children, and how in the past, I used to say that I couldn't imagine staying at home with a child?

And lo and behold, I've stayed home with William for over a year now. I don't think he has a negative view of my career goals just yet, though, so I think we're good on that front for the time being. :)

But the other night, I attended Mom's book club meeting with her, and one of the women there asked me what I do. I appreciated the irony for a moment or two, and then laughed and said, "I'm a mommy." But y'all know me. Five seconds later, I couldn't help adding, "But I used to be a newspaper reporter."

The woman (a few years older than my mother, I think) said something to the effect of how being a mother is a very important job. Which it is, absolutely. And now that I think about it, it's kind of nice that someone did ask me what I did first, not assume that I didn't do anything (well, anything official that comes with a paycheck and a 401(k) eligibility). Of course, then the woman asked what my husband did, and I sighed and said, "He's a pediatrician." Because even though I made peace a long time ago that I would be a stay-at-home mom this year and be financially dependent on my husband, when you say it out loud, it does still sound a little bit strange. At least, it sounds strage, based on the Past Me.

And you know what? I still feel some of the conflict internally. Alethea and her friend Caroline and I recently had an email conversation about this whole topic. If you work full-time, you miss your child and wonder if having him or her in day care is the best situation and you can't do things together with your child like swim lessons or weekday playgroups. If you stay home, you worry about saving for your child's college and your own retirement and financially bolstering the family and providing insurance, should anything happen to your spouse. And that doesn't even get into things like personal goals and interests. So what's the best situation? What can you live with? What risks can you take or should you take? Gah. If you really stop to think about it all, it's crazy-making. And if for some reason, you're totally completely at peace with your situation, well, there's a whole raft of books out there on both sides of the fence that are guaranteed to induce some guilt in you even then! It's a case of "damned if you do, damned if you don't."

I guess that David and I will just have to make the decision that is best for our family. That's what we've done up 'til now, and so far, it's worked out pretty well. It's not always easy to know what the right decision is, so we're just trying to do the best that we can.

The News from Natchez

We've been having big adventures here in Natchez, William and I have. We hung out with my brother and grandparents last week when they were in town. We've eaten out a lot and taken walks around the neighborhood and down to the bluff overlooking the Mississippi. We've run him through all his tricks, showing him off, too; you know, "William, can you clap? Can you wave? Can you blow a kiss? All done? Are you all done, William?" William throws his hands up in the air, a la "touchdown" when he's "all done," and it never fails to elicit laughter from people. In fact, Mom and Daddy ask him to do it a lot because it always makes them giggle. William just looks so pleased with himself when he does it. Here, check it out for yourself:















And William attended his first political event last week: a campaign kick-off for a state senator who attends Daddy's church. The event was held at the local Marketplace Cafe, which is my favorite place to eat--you know, the beignet place--and they had a whole huge roasted pig! William was quite intrigued by that, since that's definitely not something you see every day. I let William taste a little bit of the barbecued pork, and he snarfed up most of my baked beans.

In fact, he's getting quite the intro to good Southern cookin' while he's here. We let him have some grits on Saturday morning, and he loved them. Heck, I don't even like grits, and I was born and raised in the South. I haven't given him any fried okra yet, but I guess that's only a matter of time.

We also had a minor scare here last night. Well, it didn't seem so minor to me at the time. William dove off the big bed in the guest room and thunked his head on the hardwood floor. Gah. That noise. I was crying as much as he was, maybe more. Luckily, he's fine. He had a light pink bump on his forehead for a few hours last evening, but it's gone now, and he's been as rambunctious as ever. But oh my God, I was upset.

So that's the News from Natchez for now. We're having a really good time, even though I'm being eaten alive by mosquitoes!