the baron's mother (to baby girl x): once upon a time there was a handsome scottish actor. he had thick eyebrows, and a nice smile*.
the baron: [listening]
the baron's mother: and he was sexy.
the baron: mother, what the heck? you don't say sexy to my infant daughter!
the baron's mother: [hearty laughter]
*the baron and her mother had been reminiscing about this movie, which apparently got the baron's mother thinking about this actor. hence, the sexy talk.
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Sunday, December 4, 2011
choo choo for fun
the baron: are we going on a train tomorrow?
toddler x: yes!
the baron: what are we going to do tomorrow?
toddler x: train!
the baron: who are we going to see tomorrow?
toddler x: uncle dylan!
new york city, here we come.
toddler x: yes!
the baron: what are we going to do tomorrow?
toddler x: train!
the baron: who are we going to see tomorrow?
toddler x: uncle dylan!
new york city, here we come.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
princess... like gay, but worse?
tomorrow the baron, the husband, and toddler x will find out the gender of baby segundo. both the baron and the husband are hoping for another boy, for reasons that have to do entirely with their self-perceived parenthood FAILS about raising girls and NOTHING to do with the obvious awesomeness of little girls.
for the husband, raising a daughter would perhaps remind him of his teenaged years; viewing a 13 year-old girl from the lens of fatherhood rather than teenage-boyhood might be too much for him to bear, since he'll acutely remember what, exactly, those teenaged boys are thinking about when and if they call upon his daughter. he has visions of standing guard on the porch, cocked shotgun in hand, warning young men away from the house. it's not a pretty picture.
for the baron, should she be carrying a daughter, her concern will mainly be about fundamental personality differences between herself and said daughter. the baron has been informally polling women at toddler x's playgroup and has found that the disposition of the mother is no guarantee about the disposition of the daughter. in other words, to paraphrase a woman from yesterday's playgroup, a woman whose rather sheltered daughter insisted on being a fairy princess for halloween: 'i used to think girls weren't born to want to be princesses, but she wants to wear her costume all the time. i have NO IDEA how she got this way. i'm not like that at all and she doesn't see those things...'
does this mean there's a princess gene? something that can't be fought or altered, some fundamental part of some little girls that draws them to pink and purple, makeup and jewelry? if so, the baron and the husband are screwed.
for the husband, raising a daughter would perhaps remind him of his teenaged years; viewing a 13 year-old girl from the lens of fatherhood rather than teenage-boyhood might be too much for him to bear, since he'll acutely remember what, exactly, those teenaged boys are thinking about when and if they call upon his daughter. he has visions of standing guard on the porch, cocked shotgun in hand, warning young men away from the house. it's not a pretty picture.
for the baron, should she be carrying a daughter, her concern will mainly be about fundamental personality differences between herself and said daughter. the baron has been informally polling women at toddler x's playgroup and has found that the disposition of the mother is no guarantee about the disposition of the daughter. in other words, to paraphrase a woman from yesterday's playgroup, a woman whose rather sheltered daughter insisted on being a fairy princess for halloween: 'i used to think girls weren't born to want to be princesses, but she wants to wear her costume all the time. i have NO IDEA how she got this way. i'm not like that at all and she doesn't see those things...'
does this mean there's a princess gene? something that can't be fought or altered, some fundamental part of some little girls that draws them to pink and purple, makeup and jewelry? if so, the baron and the husband are screwed.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
pregnant! again!
but reader, let us not dwell on that fact just now.
instead, as the baron, the husband, and toddler x prepare for an early december trip to new york city, let's read a bit about the city.
...
the baron's favorite part of this article?
“Rats are almost as fecund as germs … a rat at four is older than a man at ninety. ‘Rats that survive to the age of four are the wisest and the most cynical beasts on earth,’ one exterminator says. ‘A trap means nothing to them, no matter how skillfully set. They just kick it around until it snaps; then they eat the bait … I believe some of them can read.’ ”
instead, as the baron, the husband, and toddler x prepare for an early december trip to new york city, let's read a bit about the city.
...
the baron's favorite part of this article?
“Rats are almost as fecund as germs … a rat at four is older than a man at ninety. ‘Rats that survive to the age of four are the wisest and the most cynical beasts on earth,’ one exterminator says. ‘A trap means nothing to them, no matter how skillfully set. They just kick it around until it snaps; then they eat the bait … I believe some of them can read.’ ”
Monday, March 7, 2011
so much sewing to do
the baron, for being an unemployed stay-at-home parent, has a kind of big to-do list. it's mostly household-y stuff like vacuuming, laundry and the like, but there's other stuff on there too, stuff that might be labeled 'hobby' but which has come to feel like work. it's the sewing, that damn sewing.
first, sometime late last fall, she thought she'd make her brother a quilt. upon completion of the quilt's top, however, she decided that it didn't look sufficiently masculine enough for him, so she decided to start another, manlier, one for him, one consisting of triangles matched up into squares matched up into larger squares. midway through cutting the fabric for this quilt the baron remembered: dude, quilting with triangles is some hard business.
such a hard business, in fact, that the baron thought she'd take some time out from this second quilt to make a hat for baby x. 'a' hat turned into two hats, which then somehow - after the husband cleaned out his closet and displayed for the baron the pile of collared shirts he planned to donate to the thrift store - turned into four collared summer shirts for baby x (three of which are pictured below).
the baron has been working on these hats and shirts for the past couple of weeks while her quilts languish unseen in a cupboard. today she will finish the last of collared shirts and maybe, maybe get back to the quilts. maybe.
first, sometime late last fall, she thought she'd make her brother a quilt. upon completion of the quilt's top, however, she decided that it didn't look sufficiently masculine enough for him, so she decided to start another, manlier, one for him, one consisting of triangles matched up into squares matched up into larger squares. midway through cutting the fabric for this quilt the baron remembered: dude, quilting with triangles is some hard business.
such a hard business, in fact, that the baron thought she'd take some time out from this second quilt to make a hat for baby x. 'a' hat turned into two hats, which then somehow - after the husband cleaned out his closet and displayed for the baron the pile of collared shirts he planned to donate to the thrift store - turned into four collared summer shirts for baby x (three of which are pictured below).
the baron has been working on these hats and shirts for the past couple of weeks while her quilts languish unseen in a cupboard. today she will finish the last of collared shirts and maybe, maybe get back to the quilts. maybe.
Monday, February 21, 2011
lunch for a tiny, tiny king
the baron would like to know if someone would come to her house and cook for her like this, please.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
tea for two
as only half of baby x's tea went into his lap *and* he seemed to enjoy the bit of it that went into his mouth, the baron declared their adventure a success. woot.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
breakfast and some things to do today
it's another grim and dreary day where the baron lives.
the baron's bastardized version of a cafe mocha is a good way to get the day started... especially since she has a long day in the kitchen ahead of her (see that to-do list below).*
*reader, this is baby x's menu for the next week or so. is it weird that baby x is eating like a king - a tiny, tiny king - while the baron eats protein bars and water with the occasional piece of whole wheat toast thrown in for good measure? sigh.
Monday, January 31, 2011
all this useless media
reader, can you pick out all the unfashionable media* in the photo below?
*that'd be: records, laserdiscs, magazines, tapes, tape deck, record player (under that blue cover on the right side there) and laserdisc player (under the record player). also pictured, though only glancingly so: compact discs (baby x is marshaling his considerable skill and concentration to extract a cd case from the shelf). new media what now?
*that'd be: records, laserdiscs, magazines, tapes, tape deck, record player (under that blue cover on the right side there) and laserdisc player (under the record player). also pictured, though only glancingly so: compact discs (baby x is marshaling his considerable skill and concentration to extract a cd case from the shelf). new media what now?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
wherein the subject of breasts is visited
baby x is now nearly 10 months old (!), a fact for which the baron and the husband are grateful. he's healthy and happy and wanting to explore more and more of the world. he's now eating solid food, real solid food, the kind of food that makes the husband occasionally say, as he looks longingly into baby x's food bowl, 'that looks good. if he doesn't finish it, i will.'
the baron spends at least two days a week planning and cooking and freezing meals for baby x, and he's now into adventurous fare like broccoli, rice and cheese casseroles and indian spiced lentil stew. it's an exciting time for the baron and the husband, watching baby x taste new things FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME, and for baby x, for whom everything is exciting and potentially the best thing he ever ate. he mostly likes everything, even (or especially) the addition of herbs and spices to his meals.
however. all this excitement comes with a seemingly insignificant side effect, seemingly insignificant if you are anyone but the baron.
because baby x is now eating three meals a day plus snacks, the baron doesn't nurse him very often anymore. she went, in rather short order, from nursing him 10-12 times per day to their current schedule of no more than 4-5 nursing sessions per day. nine months ago, when her breasts weren't in great shape (you know, reader: tearing, bleeding and other kinds of baby-induced traumas), she would have given anything for the nursing experience to be over. she often thought, in those early days, that breastfeeding for an entire year (as is recommended by the american academy of pediatrics and also EVERYONE ELSE THE BARON ASKED ABOUT IT) seemed like a ridiculous goal, one that she was certain to fall short of.
but.
now nine months on, she's quite good at nursing; it's become second nature for her, and for baby x. now, breasts healed and anxiety about 'is baby x eating enough? AM I STARVING HIM?' mostly abated, she's a bit sad about their diminished bonding time. it's normal, she knows: as he eats more solid food, he drinks less breast milk.
she says to friends that she's looking forward to baby x's first birthday, the one year mark, the day she can start him on dairy milk. this is partly true: it will certainly be easier to provide dairy milk to him on a long trip - or even a short one - than to breast feed him. except that there's a part of her, a not-very-small-part of her, that's looking forward with sadness, waiting to mourn the end of this special time. crazy, eh?
the baron spends at least two days a week planning and cooking and freezing meals for baby x, and he's now into adventurous fare like broccoli, rice and cheese casseroles and indian spiced lentil stew. it's an exciting time for the baron and the husband, watching baby x taste new things FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME, and for baby x, for whom everything is exciting and potentially the best thing he ever ate. he mostly likes everything, even (or especially) the addition of herbs and spices to his meals.
however. all this excitement comes with a seemingly insignificant side effect, seemingly insignificant if you are anyone but the baron.
because baby x is now eating three meals a day plus snacks, the baron doesn't nurse him very often anymore. she went, in rather short order, from nursing him 10-12 times per day to their current schedule of no more than 4-5 nursing sessions per day. nine months ago, when her breasts weren't in great shape (you know, reader: tearing, bleeding and other kinds of baby-induced traumas), she would have given anything for the nursing experience to be over. she often thought, in those early days, that breastfeeding for an entire year (as is recommended by the american academy of pediatrics and also EVERYONE ELSE THE BARON ASKED ABOUT IT) seemed like a ridiculous goal, one that she was certain to fall short of.
but.
now nine months on, she's quite good at nursing; it's become second nature for her, and for baby x. now, breasts healed and anxiety about 'is baby x eating enough? AM I STARVING HIM?' mostly abated, she's a bit sad about their diminished bonding time. it's normal, she knows: as he eats more solid food, he drinks less breast milk.
she says to friends that she's looking forward to baby x's first birthday, the one year mark, the day she can start him on dairy milk. this is partly true: it will certainly be easier to provide dairy milk to him on a long trip - or even a short one - than to breast feed him. except that there's a part of her, a not-very-small-part of her, that's looking forward with sadness, waiting to mourn the end of this special time. crazy, eh?
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
that time at the orthopedist's office
the baron and the husband and baby x spent a good part of their morning yesterday at an orthopedic surgeon's office, in way-far-out-there maryland. they were there on behalf of baby x, by way of referral from his pediatrician. the fat folds on his chubby legs are asymmetrical, which may indicate a wee bit of trouble in his hips.*
in the waiting room, baby x crawled about on the floor upending magazine baskets and chewing on backpack straps. also in the waiting room was an elderly woman and her black-and-blue eyed son (upon whom, apparently, a tree branch fell). the woman sat down near them, opened her bag, and extracted a small beanie baby toy. this beanie baby - a floppy eared dog - had seen better, cleaner days.
'can i give this to him?' she said, gesturing toward baby x.
with as much grace as she could muster, the baron offered the woman effusive thanks for the kind gesture, but said that the toy was a bit on the small side for baby x. in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'WHEW. bullet dodged THERE, eh? well done, the baron! no strange toys from strangers for baby x!' she cast a sidelong glance at the husband and imagined him giving her a psychic pat on the back.
but.
the woman had a counter offer, one that the baron could by no means have anticipated.
she said, 'i have a plastic bag full of toys in the car. i have a very big teddy bear in there, would he like that? would he like a teddy bear?'
the baron said, '...', followed by, '...'
in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'what the what?!'
[reader, let's pause this scene for one minute. usually, the baron isn't so much a fan of people. just in general, people in general. in a waiting room, you'll often find her in a corner with a book and her sunglasses on. this morning's waiting room was no different; left to her own devices the baron would have taken baby x to a corner of the waiting room and tried her hardest to convince him to play quietly.
but.
babies rarely want to stay quietly in a corner, and baby x is no different. also, babies are kind of old lady magnets. and this woman, with the past its prime beanie baby, was old. 72 years old, she said. and it seemed as though she, like the beanie baby, had seen better days. during the brief time she spent with the baron and the husband, she mentioned that her middle son died 14 years ago and that her youngest son had terminal liver and pancreatic cancer but had been refused treatment by everyone and was 'pretty well using'. 'using', in this case, meant to indicate drugs, as far as the baron could tell. also, her oldest son, did the baron mention, had been attacked by a fallen tree limb and had black and blue eyes?
it seemed that, in this case, this woman needed to gift a gently used stuffed animal to baby x MORE than the baron needed to heed her own instinct to avoid strangers. the idea that baby x
might appreciate and delight in a very large second hand teddy bear seemed to genuinely make this woman happy.]
the baron said, 'if you're sure and you don't mind, then he'd love a teddy bear.'
she made off to her car at a quick clip and returned with a black plastic bag from which she pulled a very large teddy bear. and a frog.
the woman said, 'i give away a lot of toys, at mcdonald's or arby's. i get them from friends. i give away a lot of frogs especially. see?' at this, she opened her jacket to reveal her sweatshirt: a cartoon frog, underneath which read Forever Relying On God.
[reader, let's pause this one more time.
ok. this was the moment when the baron began a mental retreat. without looking at him, the baron knew the husband was doing the same thing. baby x, on the floor with his new bear and frog - because, oh yes, she gave him one of those too - couldn't have been happier or more oblivious to the extreme religiosity happening above him.]
the baron, being not especially religious herself, made a series of oohing and aahing sounds while her brain whirred away trying to find a natural end to the situation, a graceful escape to the conversation. none came, but luck was with them:
they were called into an exam room by the nurse.
*trouble in this case having to do with hip dysplasia. the pediatrician thought baby x's hips felt fine, but based on baby x's fat folds suggested the trip to the orthopedist to be sure. the orthopedist, after a full physical examination and x-rays of baby x's hips, felt that baby x is perfectly healthy.**
**baby x needed to stay perfectly still during the x-ray; the husband and the nurse held baby x on the table to keep him still. the baron hovered outside, waiting for the x-rays to finish, and over mild grunting heard emanating from the from the room heard this from the nurse: 'this is a strong baby!'
in the waiting room, baby x crawled about on the floor upending magazine baskets and chewing on backpack straps. also in the waiting room was an elderly woman and her black-and-blue eyed son (upon whom, apparently, a tree branch fell). the woman sat down near them, opened her bag, and extracted a small beanie baby toy. this beanie baby - a floppy eared dog - had seen better, cleaner days.
'can i give this to him?' she said, gesturing toward baby x.
with as much grace as she could muster, the baron offered the woman effusive thanks for the kind gesture, but said that the toy was a bit on the small side for baby x. in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'WHEW. bullet dodged THERE, eh? well done, the baron! no strange toys from strangers for baby x!' she cast a sidelong glance at the husband and imagined him giving her a psychic pat on the back.
but.
the woman had a counter offer, one that the baron could by no means have anticipated.
she said, 'i have a plastic bag full of toys in the car. i have a very big teddy bear in there, would he like that? would he like a teddy bear?'
the baron said, '...', followed by, '...'
in her mind, in her in-my-mind-voice, the baron thought, 'what the what?!'
[reader, let's pause this scene for one minute. usually, the baron isn't so much a fan of people. just in general, people in general. in a waiting room, you'll often find her in a corner with a book and her sunglasses on. this morning's waiting room was no different; left to her own devices the baron would have taken baby x to a corner of the waiting room and tried her hardest to convince him to play quietly.
but.
babies rarely want to stay quietly in a corner, and baby x is no different. also, babies are kind of old lady magnets. and this woman, with the past its prime beanie baby, was old. 72 years old, she said. and it seemed as though she, like the beanie baby, had seen better days. during the brief time she spent with the baron and the husband, she mentioned that her middle son died 14 years ago and that her youngest son had terminal liver and pancreatic cancer but had been refused treatment by everyone and was 'pretty well using'. 'using', in this case, meant to indicate drugs, as far as the baron could tell. also, her oldest son, did the baron mention, had been attacked by a fallen tree limb and had black and blue eyes?
it seemed that, in this case, this woman needed to gift a gently used stuffed animal to baby x MORE than the baron needed to heed her own instinct to avoid strangers. the idea that baby x
might appreciate and delight in a very large second hand teddy bear seemed to genuinely make this woman happy.]
the baron said, 'if you're sure and you don't mind, then he'd love a teddy bear.'
she made off to her car at a quick clip and returned with a black plastic bag from which she pulled a very large teddy bear. and a frog.
the woman said, 'i give away a lot of toys, at mcdonald's or arby's. i get them from friends. i give away a lot of frogs especially. see?' at this, she opened her jacket to reveal her sweatshirt: a cartoon frog, underneath which read Forever Relying On God.
[reader, let's pause this one more time.
ok. this was the moment when the baron began a mental retreat. without looking at him, the baron knew the husband was doing the same thing. baby x, on the floor with his new bear and frog - because, oh yes, she gave him one of those too - couldn't have been happier or more oblivious to the extreme religiosity happening above him.]
the baron, being not especially religious herself, made a series of oohing and aahing sounds while her brain whirred away trying to find a natural end to the situation, a graceful escape to the conversation. none came, but luck was with them:
they were called into an exam room by the nurse.
*trouble in this case having to do with hip dysplasia. the pediatrician thought baby x's hips felt fine, but based on baby x's fat folds suggested the trip to the orthopedist to be sure. the orthopedist, after a full physical examination and x-rays of baby x's hips, felt that baby x is perfectly healthy.**
**baby x needed to stay perfectly still during the x-ray; the husband and the nurse held baby x on the table to keep him still. the baron hovered outside, waiting for the x-rays to finish, and over mild grunting heard emanating from the from the room heard this from the nurse: 'this is a strong baby!'
Friday, January 14, 2011
in the 2011
reader, it's been a good long while since.
since what?
since the baron has come to this place to check in.
she has no good excuse. excuses. life and baby x are, it seems, perennially in the way.
sigh.
the baron wants to ease in slowly, so:
baby x has just now taken down the next highest row of cds on one of the two cd towers in their sunroom. this is not a particularly sturdy cd tower and needs anchoring to the wall, but in truth, the baron and the husband perhaps did not anticipate their son standing and reaching and grabbing at just 9 months old. they maybe thought they had a wee bit more time to figure things out.
the cd tower is safe for the moment, however, as baby x is now trying to reach the telephone charging cords on top of the telephone table. in the process, he has become stuck underneath the telephone table, trying repeatedly to stand up straight and finding repeatedly that the underside of the top of the table will not allow him to do so. another long day ahead.
since what?
since the baron has come to this place to check in.
she has no good excuse. excuses. life and baby x are, it seems, perennially in the way.
sigh.
the baron wants to ease in slowly, so:
baby x has just now taken down the next highest row of cds on one of the two cd towers in their sunroom. this is not a particularly sturdy cd tower and needs anchoring to the wall, but in truth, the baron and the husband perhaps did not anticipate their son standing and reaching and grabbing at just 9 months old. they maybe thought they had a wee bit more time to figure things out.
the cd tower is safe for the moment, however, as baby x is now trying to reach the telephone charging cords on top of the telephone table. in the process, he has become stuck underneath the telephone table, trying repeatedly to stand up straight and finding repeatedly that the underside of the top of the table will not allow him to do so. another long day ahead.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
an open letter to baby x, or embrace immobility
dear baby x,
it's hard to believe you're six months old now! i want you to know that your father and i are excited and happy about your progress. it's thrilling to watch you take in your surroundings, to begin to recognize people and places.
ahem.
i want to talk to you about something, though, something that's been bothering your father and me. lately, at night, when we check on you in your crib, we find you, um, not exactly as we left you. sometimes you're moved just a little to the left or right. sometimes, you're rotated 180 degrees and have flipped from your back to your belly.
now you're exhibiting this disturbing desire to move all the time during the day as well. today, for example, i put you down for a nap in your crib. i swaddled you, as insurance that you'd stay wrapped up tight on your back. when i checked on you 20 minutes later, this is what i found:
baby x, that's you there, with your swaddling cloth wrapped all around your legs. and also, you appear to be trying to break through the bars of the crib. you appear to be smiling.
your father and i are very happy about your progress, did i mention? but, let's consider taking things down a notch, huh? i'm beginning to miss the days when you stayed put, when your arms and legs hardly flailed at all, when you were super content to lay on your back watching the ceiling fan spin.
just something to think about.
love,
the baron
it's hard to believe you're six months old now! i want you to know that your father and i are excited and happy about your progress. it's thrilling to watch you take in your surroundings, to begin to recognize people and places.
ahem.
i want to talk to you about something, though, something that's been bothering your father and me. lately, at night, when we check on you in your crib, we find you, um, not exactly as we left you. sometimes you're moved just a little to the left or right. sometimes, you're rotated 180 degrees and have flipped from your back to your belly.
now you're exhibiting this disturbing desire to move all the time during the day as well. today, for example, i put you down for a nap in your crib. i swaddled you, as insurance that you'd stay wrapped up tight on your back. when i checked on you 20 minutes later, this is what i found:
baby x, that's you there, with your swaddling cloth wrapped all around your legs. and also, you appear to be trying to break through the bars of the crib. you appear to be smiling.
your father and i are very happy about your progress, did i mention? but, let's consider taking things down a notch, huh? i'm beginning to miss the days when you stayed put, when your arms and legs hardly flailed at all, when you were super content to lay on your back watching the ceiling fan spin.
just something to think about.
love,
the baron
Monday, September 27, 2010
open letter to baby x: integrity
dear baby x,
this week your father had an unfortunate experience with some men with whom he had been professionally friendly. the men and your father parted ways, initiated by the men, but the situation was badly handled: common decency wasn't afford your dad. it's a shame, because some of these men have children, and i worry about the message being sent to them. integrity and courage are important, in big ways, yes, but also in small ways: everyday, common acts of kindness. perhaps it was time for your father to say goodbye; new plans abound, and he's already moved on.
baby x, we hope many good things for you: success and happiness, health and wisdom acquired in youth. we also hope that you'll walk tall, and know from an early age that the hard thing and right thing are sometimes the same thing, and that there's no shame in struggling to reconcile that fact. the shame comes when we recognize that the hard thing and the right thing are the same, yet choose instead a path of least resistance. in short, we should be ashamed when we act the coward.
i want you to know that, in spite of the sober tone i've taken, not every situation will be a challenge. fortunately, oftentimes, the right thing and the easy thing are the same thing. these are moments that you should recognize, that we will help you recognize, so that you may be more prepared and comfortable to make the hard choices that will inevitably be presented to you.
your father spent a good part of his childhood, and a good part of his adulthood, with his fist in the air, so to speak, raised in defiance. i want you to know that he has never been averse to a challenge, even when the odds were very, very clearly stacked against him. i also want you to learn from his example, and to know that while things are often shades of grey, they are also often black and white: if your father and i do our job right, the best thing to do and the right thing to do will always be clear to you.
love,
the baron
this week your father had an unfortunate experience with some men with whom he had been professionally friendly. the men and your father parted ways, initiated by the men, but the situation was badly handled: common decency wasn't afford your dad. it's a shame, because some of these men have children, and i worry about the message being sent to them. integrity and courage are important, in big ways, yes, but also in small ways: everyday, common acts of kindness. perhaps it was time for your father to say goodbye; new plans abound, and he's already moved on.
baby x, we hope many good things for you: success and happiness, health and wisdom acquired in youth. we also hope that you'll walk tall, and know from an early age that the hard thing and right thing are sometimes the same thing, and that there's no shame in struggling to reconcile that fact. the shame comes when we recognize that the hard thing and the right thing are the same, yet choose instead a path of least resistance. in short, we should be ashamed when we act the coward.
i want you to know that, in spite of the sober tone i've taken, not every situation will be a challenge. fortunately, oftentimes, the right thing and the easy thing are the same thing. these are moments that you should recognize, that we will help you recognize, so that you may be more prepared and comfortable to make the hard choices that will inevitably be presented to you.
your father spent a good part of his childhood, and a good part of his adulthood, with his fist in the air, so to speak, raised in defiance. i want you to know that he has never been averse to a challenge, even when the odds were very, very clearly stacked against him. i also want you to learn from his example, and to know that while things are often shades of grey, they are also often black and white: if your father and i do our job right, the best thing to do and the right thing to do will always be clear to you.
love,
the baron
Friday, September 3, 2010
barney doesn't live here
early in her pregnancy the baron and the husband decided that no "children's music" would darken their doorstep: no barney, no dora the explorer, no mickey mouse... you get the picture, reader, right? their only concession to baby x's age and need for soothing sounds are a series of cds called rockabye baby, which re-imagine popular songs as lullabies. they've got the beach boys, coldplay, u2, and the beatles, all retooled enough to keep baby x sleeping, but still highly and easily recognizable as music the baron and the husband actually like.
baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).
their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.
baby x and the baron share their first nursing session of the day with the amelie soundtrack, scored by yann tiersen. (they used to start the day with simon and garfunkel, until one morning when the husband happened upon them listening to 'bridge over troubled water' and suggested it was kind of heavy for the baby). lately, before his bath time and dinner time, baby x is danced around the living room by his father to 'everyday people' by sly & the family stone. sometimes it's led zepplin, and once it was the cars... but no one wanted a repeat of ric ocasek. baby x's days are filled with a playlist the baron and the husband built for baby x, containing the likes of phoenix, the rolling stones, vampire weekend, rem, the killers, the beatles, u2, coldplay, and one song by cat stevens (you can guess which one, reader, can't you?).
their house will likely, eventually, see more conventional children's music, especially once baby x gets out and about into the world. until then, though, the baron and the husband are liking their chance to shape his musical tastes. fingers crossed that what they teach him now will stick.
Monday, August 16, 2010
mourning glory
the baron, the husband, baby x, and the two big dogs have plans to travel to upstate new york later this week. the husband has made this trip many, many times; the baron just twice.
they'll be visiting the husband's members of nuclear and extended family, one of whom is very, very ill. this trip is will give baby x a too-brief opportunity to meet his kin, and the baron wishes the circumstances were better.
she's got no sense of humor about this; pithy is the best she can do.
they'll be visiting the husband's members of nuclear and extended family, one of whom is very, very ill. this trip is will give baby x a too-brief opportunity to meet his kin, and the baron wishes the circumstances were better.
she's got no sense of humor about this; pithy is the best she can do.
Friday, August 13, 2010
incomprehensible, uh, ramblings
reader, the baron was recently wondering why she hasn't written in so long. she wondered this while scraping curdles of her own breast milk from under her fingernails and realized, oh, right.
from her last post, which she titled 'part 1', the baron sincerely intended to flush out a series of 'parts', describing her first few weeks and first few experiences of parenthood. that, sadly, will not come to pass... because of, you know, the scraping of curdled milk from under her fingernails. also, because of the profound lack of rest. also, because she lately has a hard time laying her hands, so to speak, on the right words:
the baron: the husband, will you hand me that... uh, that... uh... ...
the husband: [expectant look on his face] yes?
the baron: that, uh...
the husband: come on, honey, use your people words.
usually, the baron is scraping around for food processor, burp cloth, spoon, water - you know, reader, really rarefied words. NOT. to say her mental acuity has taken a significant hit is to state the obvious, but it has and duh.
most days she's carried along by the gentle motion of repetition: feed baby x, burp baby x, play with baby x, baby x naps, watch 'the west wing' (josh and donna, can't you just admit you love each other?), feed baby x, burp baby x, and so on until the evening when the husband comes home and the day's tenor changes. the baron looks forward to 6 pm, when the husband gets home; he's much needed company, and a much needed reminder that she's not in it alone. also, he's a dab hand at pouring her a glass of wine, so. that makes a difference.
after baby x's bath and bottle (of which he gets two or three a day, after his bath and overnight, if he wakes up, and one for breakfast), the baron and the husband prepare their dinner and have conversation while doing so. reader, it might be the baron's favorite part of the day: a real conversation where the husband tells of a world outside babies and curdled breast milk, where anecdotes don't begin and end with the contents of a dirty diaper. he always listens intently - or mostly intently - to her rantings about the day, even if her stories are pretty much the same. see: paragraph above. at this point the husband usually reminds the baron to take a shower, because reader, sometimes she needs some reminding. having gotten the curdles out from under her fingernails and having simply taken off the peed-on pants seems like 'clean enough' to her. sometimes she needs reminding.
they end their day together, on the sofa, with dinner and whatever television is on, or something from netflix if it's come. they're working their way through 'the wire': dinner and 'the wire' is a good night for the baron. they're usually in bed by 9:30, and the baron typically falls right to sleep, unless she doesn't. sometimes she stays up listening to the baby, unable to sleep though wanting to so very badly. some nights she stays up wondering how stringer bell can be so handsome and so evil at the same time, or worrying about the fates of omar little and bubbles.
anyway. about those other parts, she had originally intended to write a series of posts on a series of themes, but reader? let's just shorthand this one, ok?
part 2. the baron loves capri sun, or, breast feeding makes the baron very, very thirsty.
part 3. seventh generation was the best option, or the baron and the husband looked around for other, more viable and earth-friendly option than standard diapers but didn't come up with much. though it bothers the baron that baby x is starting his life with a big gaping soul debt to the planet (hello, earth, sorry about all those diapers...), she couldn't find a better option than this.
part 4. diaper rash is a real threat, or, make sure baby x is very, very dry before closing up that fresh diaper, because dude. some body parts should never be that color red, if you catch the baron's drift.
part 5. contrary to her own beliefs, the baron can function on just a few hours sleep. for days and days and days.
part 6. 'the new yorker' comes just once per week, 'good omens' is kind of hard to hold with one hand, but 'the lorax' never gets old, or, the baron reads to baby x. a lot. baby x has a number of those cardboard books, the ones that are good for babies to chew on, but reader? the baron spends hours and hours per day entertaining baby x and is only able to read 'five little monkeys' and the like so many times before wanting to claw her eyes out; early on, she decided that it couldn't actually hurt to read more sophisticated fare out loud to him. courtesy of 'the new yorker' and 'harpers', baby x will be able to speak to you at length about the war in afghanistan and the current state of the economy.
part 7. counting to ten doesn't actually work. having the husband repeat the refrain 'i love you. stay calm.' does, or, the baron is short tempered. the baby tests her limits on a daily basis. parenthood offers no shortage of opportunities to FAIL. the baron is just trying to have more good days than bad.
part 8. the baron hated being pregnant: the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, the shrinking wardrobe. the baron loves being a mother; it makes the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, and the shrinking wardrobe totally worth it. or, this baby? kind of amazing. he's recently figured out how to roll over, has begun babbling and cooing, can reach for toys, and is interested in the world around him. he's a delight and everyone who meets him comes away with a smile.
it's very early in the morning now, and the baron is thinking about going back to bed. even though baby x is sleeping nearly 10 hours nightly, the baron isn't: she gets up every night around 1am, no matter what, to pump and refrigerate breast milk. she thinks of this early morning ritual as the penance she must pay for, you know, pregnancy and stay home parenthood, but oh wait.
more later, maybe.
from her last post, which she titled 'part 1', the baron sincerely intended to flush out a series of 'parts', describing her first few weeks and first few experiences of parenthood. that, sadly, will not come to pass... because of, you know, the scraping of curdled milk from under her fingernails. also, because of the profound lack of rest. also, because she lately has a hard time laying her hands, so to speak, on the right words:
the baron: the husband, will you hand me that... uh, that... uh... ...
the husband: [expectant look on his face] yes?
the baron: that, uh...
the husband: come on, honey, use your people words.
usually, the baron is scraping around for food processor, burp cloth, spoon, water - you know, reader, really rarefied words. NOT. to say her mental acuity has taken a significant hit is to state the obvious, but it has and duh.
most days she's carried along by the gentle motion of repetition: feed baby x, burp baby x, play with baby x, baby x naps, watch 'the west wing' (josh and donna, can't you just admit you love each other?), feed baby x, burp baby x, and so on until the evening when the husband comes home and the day's tenor changes. the baron looks forward to 6 pm, when the husband gets home; he's much needed company, and a much needed reminder that she's not in it alone. also, he's a dab hand at pouring her a glass of wine, so. that makes a difference.
after baby x's bath and bottle (of which he gets two or three a day, after his bath and overnight, if he wakes up, and one for breakfast), the baron and the husband prepare their dinner and have conversation while doing so. reader, it might be the baron's favorite part of the day: a real conversation where the husband tells of a world outside babies and curdled breast milk, where anecdotes don't begin and end with the contents of a dirty diaper. he always listens intently - or mostly intently - to her rantings about the day, even if her stories are pretty much the same. see: paragraph above. at this point the husband usually reminds the baron to take a shower, because reader, sometimes she needs some reminding. having gotten the curdles out from under her fingernails and having simply taken off the peed-on pants seems like 'clean enough' to her. sometimes she needs reminding.
they end their day together, on the sofa, with dinner and whatever television is on, or something from netflix if it's come. they're working their way through 'the wire': dinner and 'the wire' is a good night for the baron. they're usually in bed by 9:30, and the baron typically falls right to sleep, unless she doesn't. sometimes she stays up listening to the baby, unable to sleep though wanting to so very badly. some nights she stays up wondering how stringer bell can be so handsome and so evil at the same time, or worrying about the fates of omar little and bubbles.
anyway. about those other parts, she had originally intended to write a series of posts on a series of themes, but reader? let's just shorthand this one, ok?
part 2. the baron loves capri sun, or, breast feeding makes the baron very, very thirsty.
part 3. seventh generation was the best option, or the baron and the husband looked around for other, more viable and earth-friendly option than standard diapers but didn't come up with much. though it bothers the baron that baby x is starting his life with a big gaping soul debt to the planet (hello, earth, sorry about all those diapers...), she couldn't find a better option than this.
part 4. diaper rash is a real threat, or, make sure baby x is very, very dry before closing up that fresh diaper, because dude. some body parts should never be that color red, if you catch the baron's drift.
part 5. contrary to her own beliefs, the baron can function on just a few hours sleep. for days and days and days.
part 6. 'the new yorker' comes just once per week, 'good omens' is kind of hard to hold with one hand, but 'the lorax' never gets old, or, the baron reads to baby x. a lot. baby x has a number of those cardboard books, the ones that are good for babies to chew on, but reader? the baron spends hours and hours per day entertaining baby x and is only able to read 'five little monkeys' and the like so many times before wanting to claw her eyes out; early on, she decided that it couldn't actually hurt to read more sophisticated fare out loud to him. courtesy of 'the new yorker' and 'harpers', baby x will be able to speak to you at length about the war in afghanistan and the current state of the economy.
part 7. counting to ten doesn't actually work. having the husband repeat the refrain 'i love you. stay calm.' does, or, the baron is short tempered. the baby tests her limits on a daily basis. parenthood offers no shortage of opportunities to FAIL. the baron is just trying to have more good days than bad.
part 8. the baron hated being pregnant: the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, the shrinking wardrobe. the baron loves being a mother; it makes the morning sickness, the weight gain, the sore breasts, and the shrinking wardrobe totally worth it. or, this baby? kind of amazing. he's recently figured out how to roll over, has begun babbling and cooing, can reach for toys, and is interested in the world around him. he's a delight and everyone who meets him comes away with a smile.
it's very early in the morning now, and the baron is thinking about going back to bed. even though baby x is sleeping nearly 10 hours nightly, the baron isn't: she gets up every night around 1am, no matter what, to pump and refrigerate breast milk. she thinks of this early morning ritual as the penance she must pay for, you know, pregnancy and stay home parenthood, but oh wait.
more later, maybe.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
parenthood: 1. getting there
the baron's cesarean section incision (and her insides too) are very nearly healed.
six weeks and two days ago, the baron and the husband went to the baron's obstetrician for her 39th week checkup. the doctor checked the baron's overall health, then checked her cervix for dilation and came up with a whopping 1/2 centimeter. the baron, at one week from her due date, was one-half inch dilated, suggesting that the baron's body was saying 'hello? not quite ready for this. let's wait a bit longer. just a bit.' baby x, conversely, was pushing down on her cervix, hard, the in-utero version of, 'hello world? i am ready to come out.'
the doctor suggested that labor be induced, that very afternoon. to this, the husband said (and reader, the incredulity was heavy, heavy in his voice), 'wait. you mean, we go to the hospital today and we get a baby tomorrow?' to this, the doctor said, 'yes.'
that afternoon found the baron and the husband making for the hospital. traffic was kind to them, and they arrived at the hospital just on 4:30 pm. by 6 pm, the baron was hospital gowned and waiting on the on-call doctor to begin her inducement.
inducement: it comes in two parts sometimes, as it did for the baron. she received prostaglandin gel at 9 pm, intended to, uh, ripen her cervix (thus making dilation more likely). in theory, this sounded like a great idea. in reality, the insertion of the gel caused baby x's heartbeat to decrease. in a really frightening way, the kind of way that made four nurses and a doctor rush into the baron's room. they laid their hands on the baron, pushing and pulling her this way and that, trying to find a good position for baby x, one that would alleviate pressure on him. they put oxygen tubes into her nose. the medical people held their breath and watched and waited, a collective whole, and the baron and the husband did too.
baby x recovered. the baron and the husband passed the evening awake but pretending to sleep, or trying to. reader, it was a very, very long night.
the baron was meant to take a room in the labor and delivery unit the following morning at 11 am when she would receive the second drug - pitocin, to dilate her cervix.
however. no bed was available in labor and delivery at 11 am. or at noon. or at 1 pm.
in fact, no bed became available until after 5 pm, which meant that the baron did not receive her pitocin as scheduled. which means, reader, that the baron's cervix stayed locked up tight, hovering at right around 1 centimeter. but reader? the gel, the one meant to soften? that gel started her contractions, gently at first, then not very gently at all.
so not-very-gently-at-all, reader, that by 5 pm (when she as finally moved into labor and delivery), the baron began courting the friendly nurses, chatting them up about the odds of her receiving an epidural post-haste.
near 6 pm, the baron was connected to the pitocin drip. it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed again. and recovered, again.
at 6:15 pm, the baron was introduced to the anesthesiologist, a lovely man bearing a lovely gift. the epidural was administered, but it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed for a third time. and recovered.
at 6:30 pm, the on-call doctor - the man who would be delivering baby x - entered the baron's room and examined the baby's heart rate monitor print out. he seemed perturbed and was quiet, and the baron and the husband were too. too much quiet coming off a doctor makes a person nervous.
doctor: how invested are you in the idea of a vaginal delivery?
the baron: uh.
the husband: uh. can you talk us through the benefits of one over the other?
doctor: your baby's heart rate has dropped three times since you've been here. when he passes through the birth canal, because of the strength of the contractions, we'll expect his heart rate to drop again - that's natural - but for your baby, given these three incidents, i say why not just go with a c-section and remove the risk of his heart rate decreasing for a fourth time? also to consider, if we begin the vaginal delivery and his heart rate drops too precipitously, we may end up having to do an emergency c-section anyway.
the baron and the husband took the doctor's advice. it was 6:45 pm.
by 7 pm, the husband was being outfitted in too-large-for-him blue scrubs, and the baron was being shaved. she had long since shed her vanity.
by 7:15 pm the baron was being wheeled into an operating room.
at 7:20 pm, the husband was allowed to join her, taking a seat near her head. their view of the baron's nether region was blocked by a blue sheet.
at 7:25 pm, the baron - totally, totally devoid of feeling from the ribcage down - was being mined for baby x.
at 7:44 pm, baby x was born.
at 7:44 pm, the husband leaned over the baron's face and kissed her forehead. he whispered words into her ear, and the baron's insides swelled with emotion bordering on ecstasy. reader. the baron and the husband made a baby. he was born, scooped out, and with him came more love and light than words here can convey.
at 7:45 pm, one of the nurses charged with cleaning baby x gasped, 'oh my god, is that red hair?!'
by 10 pm, the baron, the husband, and baby x were back in the labor and delivery room, waiting for transport to the recovery floor.
below, how the baron and the husband kept themselves occupied during their 5 day stay.
six weeks and two days ago, the baron and the husband went to the baron's obstetrician for her 39th week checkup. the doctor checked the baron's overall health, then checked her cervix for dilation and came up with a whopping 1/2 centimeter. the baron, at one week from her due date, was one-half inch dilated, suggesting that the baron's body was saying 'hello? not quite ready for this. let's wait a bit longer. just a bit.' baby x, conversely, was pushing down on her cervix, hard, the in-utero version of, 'hello world? i am ready to come out.'
the doctor suggested that labor be induced, that very afternoon. to this, the husband said (and reader, the incredulity was heavy, heavy in his voice), 'wait. you mean, we go to the hospital today and we get a baby tomorrow?' to this, the doctor said, 'yes.'
that afternoon found the baron and the husband making for the hospital. traffic was kind to them, and they arrived at the hospital just on 4:30 pm. by 6 pm, the baron was hospital gowned and waiting on the on-call doctor to begin her inducement.
inducement: it comes in two parts sometimes, as it did for the baron. she received prostaglandin gel at 9 pm, intended to, uh, ripen her cervix (thus making dilation more likely). in theory, this sounded like a great idea. in reality, the insertion of the gel caused baby x's heartbeat to decrease. in a really frightening way, the kind of way that made four nurses and a doctor rush into the baron's room. they laid their hands on the baron, pushing and pulling her this way and that, trying to find a good position for baby x, one that would alleviate pressure on him. they put oxygen tubes into her nose. the medical people held their breath and watched and waited, a collective whole, and the baron and the husband did too.
baby x recovered. the baron and the husband passed the evening awake but pretending to sleep, or trying to. reader, it was a very, very long night.
the baron was meant to take a room in the labor and delivery unit the following morning at 11 am when she would receive the second drug - pitocin, to dilate her cervix.
however. no bed was available in labor and delivery at 11 am. or at noon. or at 1 pm.
in fact, no bed became available until after 5 pm, which meant that the baron did not receive her pitocin as scheduled. which means, reader, that the baron's cervix stayed locked up tight, hovering at right around 1 centimeter. but reader? the gel, the one meant to soften? that gel started her contractions, gently at first, then not very gently at all.
so not-very-gently-at-all, reader, that by 5 pm (when she as finally moved into labor and delivery), the baron began courting the friendly nurses, chatting them up about the odds of her receiving an epidural post-haste.
near 6 pm, the baron was connected to the pitocin drip. it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed again. and recovered, again.
at 6:15 pm, the baron was introduced to the anesthesiologist, a lovely man bearing a lovely gift. the epidural was administered, but it didn't go well. baby x's heartbeat slowed for a third time. and recovered.
at 6:30 pm, the on-call doctor - the man who would be delivering baby x - entered the baron's room and examined the baby's heart rate monitor print out. he seemed perturbed and was quiet, and the baron and the husband were too. too much quiet coming off a doctor makes a person nervous.
doctor: how invested are you in the idea of a vaginal delivery?
the baron: uh.
the husband: uh. can you talk us through the benefits of one over the other?
doctor: your baby's heart rate has dropped three times since you've been here. when he passes through the birth canal, because of the strength of the contractions, we'll expect his heart rate to drop again - that's natural - but for your baby, given these three incidents, i say why not just go with a c-section and remove the risk of his heart rate decreasing for a fourth time? also to consider, if we begin the vaginal delivery and his heart rate drops too precipitously, we may end up having to do an emergency c-section anyway.
the baron and the husband took the doctor's advice. it was 6:45 pm.
by 7 pm, the husband was being outfitted in too-large-for-him blue scrubs, and the baron was being shaved. she had long since shed her vanity.
by 7:15 pm the baron was being wheeled into an operating room.
at 7:20 pm, the husband was allowed to join her, taking a seat near her head. their view of the baron's nether region was blocked by a blue sheet.
at 7:25 pm, the baron - totally, totally devoid of feeling from the ribcage down - was being mined for baby x.
at 7:44 pm, baby x was born.
at 7:44 pm, the husband leaned over the baron's face and kissed her forehead. he whispered words into her ear, and the baron's insides swelled with emotion bordering on ecstasy. reader. the baron and the husband made a baby. he was born, scooped out, and with him came more love and light than words here can convey.
at 7:45 pm, one of the nurses charged with cleaning baby x gasped, 'oh my god, is that red hair?!'
by 10 pm, the baron, the husband, and baby x were back in the labor and delivery room, waiting for transport to the recovery floor.
below, how the baron and the husband kept themselves occupied during their 5 day stay.
Friday, March 19, 2010
it's been a long time, reader
reader, the baron is pregnant. still. she's about three and a half weeks out from her due date, though really? isn't that due date just a best guess? so at this point the baron is pretty much on tenterhooks trying to listen to her body's every tic and sigh. as in, 'hm. is that the baby kicking or the start of labor?' it's kind of distracting, actually.
her behavior - this constant self-monitoring on the lookout for labor - is not a recent development -she's pretty much been obsessively listening to her body for the past nine months... thus, she has no real, good excuse for her prolonged absence these last few months. where has she been? the answer to *that* question is, she's been nowhere. let's chalk the silence up to job stress and nesting distractions, how's that?
so.
three and a half weeks out. this home stretch is taking forever, in the baron's opinion! she's very much feeling her weight now, as well as every little shift the baby makes. she's tired all the time, and wanting to sleep all the time (these developments having come on in the last week or so)... but has a hard time sleeping for anything beyond three hours before having to pee again. and the pee? can still be measured in teaspoons. her blood pressure is elevated, and she's having nausea again, as well as wicked, wicked indigestion. though she knows it's best for everyone if he makes it as close to 40 weeks as possible, the baron is kind of ready to expel baby x post-haste. well, ready except for the lactation specialist she and the husband have yet to find. ready except for the pediatrician they have yet to interview. ready except for the hospital bag that languishes on the bedroom floor in anticipation of ALL THE THINGS YET TO PACK INTO IT.
so. mostly ready.
however, things aren't entirely bad for the baron. spring is very nearly upon her, and the last week was gorgeous beyond the telling of it. she and the husband had a baby shower, thrown for them by very good friends, and baby x is ready for his converse closeup. and that last photo? that's a cheesecake with apricot glaze and strawberries. baby x, see all the wonderful things waiting for you?
harlan in repose.
baby shower courtesy of gina, kathy, and kevin.
itty bitty converse courtesy of lady x.
cheesecake by the baron.
her behavior - this constant self-monitoring on the lookout for labor - is not a recent development -she's pretty much been obsessively listening to her body for the past nine months... thus, she has no real, good excuse for her prolonged absence these last few months. where has she been? the answer to *that* question is, she's been nowhere. let's chalk the silence up to job stress and nesting distractions, how's that?
so.
three and a half weeks out. this home stretch is taking forever, in the baron's opinion! she's very much feeling her weight now, as well as every little shift the baby makes. she's tired all the time, and wanting to sleep all the time (these developments having come on in the last week or so)... but has a hard time sleeping for anything beyond three hours before having to pee again. and the pee? can still be measured in teaspoons. her blood pressure is elevated, and she's having nausea again, as well as wicked, wicked indigestion. though she knows it's best for everyone if he makes it as close to 40 weeks as possible, the baron is kind of ready to expel baby x post-haste. well, ready except for the lactation specialist she and the husband have yet to find. ready except for the pediatrician they have yet to interview. ready except for the hospital bag that languishes on the bedroom floor in anticipation of ALL THE THINGS YET TO PACK INTO IT.
so. mostly ready.
however, things aren't entirely bad for the baron. spring is very nearly upon her, and the last week was gorgeous beyond the telling of it. she and the husband had a baby shower, thrown for them by very good friends, and baby x is ready for his converse closeup. and that last photo? that's a cheesecake with apricot glaze and strawberries. baby x, see all the wonderful things waiting for you?
harlan in repose.
baby shower courtesy of gina, kathy, and kevin.
itty bitty converse courtesy of lady x.
cheesecake by the baron.
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