Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Thanksgiving 2007
Sorry for the lack of posts lately, but work has been hectic, and until I get paid to blog, the law comes first.
This year we spent Thanksgiving in Tennessee with Grandma and Grandpa Ueland and Aunt Kelli. Overall the trip was great. We planned well and avoided the holiday crowds at the airports, and had a great time with Grandma and Grandpa Ueland.
The weather in Tennessee was beautiful -- my dad and I actually played golf in shorts on the day before Thanksgiving -- not something that you would be able to do in Minnesota.
It was apparent that Gus was feeling under the weather (we later learned that he had been developing an ear infection), but nonetheless, he had a ball in Tennessee. He particularly enjoyed unsupervised play with Grandma and Grandpa.
One morning after Gus woke up at an absurdly early hour, my parents offered to watch Gus if Emily and I wanted to go back to bed for a little while. I think that we were tucking ourselves back in before the offer had been fully communicated. After an hour or two of rest, we woke up, and Emily fed Gus. I asked my parents how Gus had been and what they had done while we were sleeping.
"We had fun."
Ok.
Later on the trip, I picked up their digital camera, and found that they were telling the truth -- they had fun. I found many pictures of Gus posed in various places in their house. Some of which are below:
Gus with his new excersaucer -- Guster's new favorite toy!
Hangin' with Grandpa
Helping prepare the sweet potatoes?
Family photo.
Gus' highchair (that is a baby pterodactyl flying towards the balloons)
Smilin' for Grandma and Grandpa
Kicking back in the rocking chair
Jailed.
This year we spent Thanksgiving in Tennessee with Grandma and Grandpa Ueland and Aunt Kelli. Overall the trip was great. We planned well and avoided the holiday crowds at the airports, and had a great time with Grandma and Grandpa Ueland.
The weather in Tennessee was beautiful -- my dad and I actually played golf in shorts on the day before Thanksgiving -- not something that you would be able to do in Minnesota.
It was apparent that Gus was feeling under the weather (we later learned that he had been developing an ear infection), but nonetheless, he had a ball in Tennessee. He particularly enjoyed unsupervised play with Grandma and Grandpa.
One morning after Gus woke up at an absurdly early hour, my parents offered to watch Gus if Emily and I wanted to go back to bed for a little while. I think that we were tucking ourselves back in before the offer had been fully communicated. After an hour or two of rest, we woke up, and Emily fed Gus. I asked my parents how Gus had been and what they had done while we were sleeping.
"We had fun."
Ok.
Later on the trip, I picked up their digital camera, and found that they were telling the truth -- they had fun. I found many pictures of Gus posed in various places in their house. Some of which are below:
Gus with his new excersaucer -- Guster's new favorite toy!
Hangin' with Grandpa
Helping prepare the sweet potatoes?
Family photo.
Gus' highchair (that is a baby pterodactyl flying towards the balloons)
Smilin' for Grandma and Grandpa
Kicking back in the rocking chair
Jailed.Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Not a Creature was Stirring . . .
Thanksgiving is my absolute favorite holiday -- and I will write about Gus' first Thanksgiving in a separate post -- but first, a story --
Emily and I planned our trip to avoid the hordes at the airport. We left Minneapolis on Monday evening, and returned home on Saturday morning. Another plus of this plan would be to have an extra day at home to get back into the swing of things before starting the work week.
On Sunday afternoon, with my stomach properly expanded from the gastronomic gluttony of the past several days, I was craving a little snack, and decided that ice cream fit the bill nicely. I got a small dish down from the cupboard, and then opened the drawer to get out the ice cream scoop when I noticed something . . . what was that? I saw what looked like chocolate sprinkles in the drawer. How odd. Now, I know that some of you out there know where this is headed, and are thinking to yourselves that you would have known what the "sprinkles" were instantly, but in my defense, there were also little red sprinkles in the drawer as well. I had a sinking feeling that I knew what the darker sprinkles were, but the red sprinkles gave me hope that perhaps some cookie decorations had been spilled. I was investigating the situation and had Emily come take a look too. She was equally puzzled about the presence of the red "sprinkles" as well, but then she exclaimed, "Oh no! Look!" And with that she held up a bottle opener with a red rubber handle - which showed evidence of being nibbled on. We were not alone. We had a house guest, or rather, a mouse guest.
Let me stop here to say that I am unabashedly a big fat wimp when it comes to things like this - and it is not limited to mice. Bugs - especially the millipedes are also a problem. I just don't want anything to do with them. But now there was no other option. We had a mouse -- and he was in our drawers -- we had to get rid of him.
Traps were in order.
Now as many of you know, Emily is a vegetarian and a friend to the furry and four-legged, and predictably, she voiced her opposition to killing our friend. She thought that catch and release should be our strategy, and so we headed off to the hardware store to see if we could get some live-traps.
Now, I had only ever heard of the traditional spring loaded snap traps, and was not optimistic that we would find something that would allow us to catch a mouse alive. To my surprise, there were a few options. We chose four small traps made by Victor. These traps were tiny rectangles with a door on one end that lifted up when set, and when a mouse ran in, would fall shut trapping the mouse inside.
Back at home we emptied the drawer where we saw the evidence of the mouse's presence, and started baiting and setting the traps. On the advice of our parents and the Internet, we used peanut butter as our bait 'o choice. Even setting the traps, I was a bit unsettled by the whole thing. I told Emily that since she was the one pushing for a pardon for our friend, that, in the event that we caught him, she would have to be the one that let the mouse out of the trap by sliding the trap's door open. She agreed, and we went to bed.
The next morning we got up with the Gus Man and getting ready to start the work week. Emily said that she thought that we caught the mouse because she thought she had heard him. We checked the traps, and sure enough -- two of the four were closed! Now, given the design of these traps, I was sure that one or both of the traps was a false positive. The traps rely on balance -- once the mouse runs in, the trap tips, thus shutting the door. Therefore if the traps were rocked even slightly, the door would shut. Nonetheless, no chances would be taken. I got a shoebox out of Emily's closet, and a set of tongs so that we could put the traps in the shoe box so that any mice inside could be transferred to their new home near the Minneahaha Creek (a few blocks from where we live). Emily used the tongs to pick up the traps, and commented that she now did not think that there were any mice in either of the traps because they felt so light. But, as I said -- no chances would be taken. Em put the traps in the shoe boxes, and we bundled up Guster so the family could set off on our adventure to return our very own Stuart Little to the wild.
About a block from the creek Emily decided that she was just going to open the traps there since she did not believe that they contained any mice. She opened each trap and gave them a little shake to see if any mouse came out, and sure enough -- no mouse. A bit relieved, we headed back to the house to get showered and changed for work.
As we were getting ready, I decided that I should probably re-set the traps so that we could catch our friend. I opened each trap in turn to see if I needed to add more peanut butter. I slid open the door of the first trap and looked in. Plenty of peanut butter. Beautiful. I set the trap under the sink. Next trap. I slid open the door, and much to my surprise -- a brown mouse came running out! I let out a yelp like a 7 year old schoolgirl and dropped the trap. Emily got into the act as well finding jumping onto the nearest chair. Great. Just great. Mission catch and release was flawed. We only had half the plan down. Catch? No problem. As W would say -- "mission accomplished!" Release? Oh, what's that you say? Outside? We want to release the mice outside? Apparently we didn't get the memo. The upshot? The mouse was loose.
Time to call in an expert. We called in a wildlife removal specialist and they came out and set additional live traps. But so far we've come up empty. We haven't seen any further evidence of mice, which is good, but we still will feel better when we catch our friend. Again.
You may be wondering how Gus was during all the excitement. He was great, except for the part where his Dad let out his scream of terror. Gus was in his crib and I think that the scream and the subsequent commotion scared him a little and he started to cry a bit. But he was quickly calmed, and I think that he thought the whole thing was a fine adventure.
Anyway, that was our post-Thanksgiving excitement. Here are some pictures of the G-Man:
Swimming towards Dad.
One laid back Potato.
Helping Mom fold laundry.
Sitting tall.
Whaddya want?
Emily and I planned our trip to avoid the hordes at the airport. We left Minneapolis on Monday evening, and returned home on Saturday morning. Another plus of this plan would be to have an extra day at home to get back into the swing of things before starting the work week.
On Sunday afternoon, with my stomach properly expanded from the gastronomic gluttony of the past several days, I was craving a little snack, and decided that ice cream fit the bill nicely. I got a small dish down from the cupboard, and then opened the drawer to get out the ice cream scoop when I noticed something . . . what was that? I saw what looked like chocolate sprinkles in the drawer. How odd. Now, I know that some of you out there know where this is headed, and are thinking to yourselves that you would have known what the "sprinkles" were instantly, but in my defense, there were also little red sprinkles in the drawer as well. I had a sinking feeling that I knew what the darker sprinkles were, but the red sprinkles gave me hope that perhaps some cookie decorations had been spilled. I was investigating the situation and had Emily come take a look too. She was equally puzzled about the presence of the red "sprinkles" as well, but then she exclaimed, "Oh no! Look!" And with that she held up a bottle opener with a red rubber handle - which showed evidence of being nibbled on. We were not alone. We had a house guest, or rather, a mouse guest.
Let me stop here to say that I am unabashedly a big fat wimp when it comes to things like this - and it is not limited to mice. Bugs - especially the millipedes are also a problem. I just don't want anything to do with them. But now there was no other option. We had a mouse -- and he was in our drawers -- we had to get rid of him.
Traps were in order.
Now as many of you know, Emily is a vegetarian and a friend to the furry and four-legged, and predictably, she voiced her opposition to killing our friend. She thought that catch and release should be our strategy, and so we headed off to the hardware store to see if we could get some live-traps.
Now, I had only ever heard of the traditional spring loaded snap traps, and was not optimistic that we would find something that would allow us to catch a mouse alive. To my surprise, there were a few options. We chose four small traps made by Victor. These traps were tiny rectangles with a door on one end that lifted up when set, and when a mouse ran in, would fall shut trapping the mouse inside.
Back at home we emptied the drawer where we saw the evidence of the mouse's presence, and started baiting and setting the traps. On the advice of our parents and the Internet, we used peanut butter as our bait 'o choice. Even setting the traps, I was a bit unsettled by the whole thing. I told Emily that since she was the one pushing for a pardon for our friend, that, in the event that we caught him, she would have to be the one that let the mouse out of the trap by sliding the trap's door open. She agreed, and we went to bed.
The next morning we got up with the Gus Man and getting ready to start the work week. Emily said that she thought that we caught the mouse because she thought she had heard him. We checked the traps, and sure enough -- two of the four were closed! Now, given the design of these traps, I was sure that one or both of the traps was a false positive. The traps rely on balance -- once the mouse runs in, the trap tips, thus shutting the door. Therefore if the traps were rocked even slightly, the door would shut. Nonetheless, no chances would be taken. I got a shoebox out of Emily's closet, and a set of tongs so that we could put the traps in the shoe box so that any mice inside could be transferred to their new home near the Minneahaha Creek (a few blocks from where we live). Emily used the tongs to pick up the traps, and commented that she now did not think that there were any mice in either of the traps because they felt so light. But, as I said -- no chances would be taken. Em put the traps in the shoe boxes, and we bundled up Guster so the family could set off on our adventure to return our very own Stuart Little to the wild.
About a block from the creek Emily decided that she was just going to open the traps there since she did not believe that they contained any mice. She opened each trap and gave them a little shake to see if any mouse came out, and sure enough -- no mouse. A bit relieved, we headed back to the house to get showered and changed for work.
As we were getting ready, I decided that I should probably re-set the traps so that we could catch our friend. I opened each trap in turn to see if I needed to add more peanut butter. I slid open the door of the first trap and looked in. Plenty of peanut butter. Beautiful. I set the trap under the sink. Next trap. I slid open the door, and much to my surprise -- a brown mouse came running out! I let out a yelp like a 7 year old schoolgirl and dropped the trap. Emily got into the act as well finding jumping onto the nearest chair. Great. Just great. Mission catch and release was flawed. We only had half the plan down. Catch? No problem. As W would say -- "mission accomplished!" Release? Oh, what's that you say? Outside? We want to release the mice outside? Apparently we didn't get the memo. The upshot? The mouse was loose.
Time to call in an expert. We called in a wildlife removal specialist and they came out and set additional live traps. But so far we've come up empty. We haven't seen any further evidence of mice, which is good, but we still will feel better when we catch our friend. Again.
You may be wondering how Gus was during all the excitement. He was great, except for the part where his Dad let out his scream of terror. Gus was in his crib and I think that the scream and the subsequent commotion scared him a little and he started to cry a bit. But he was quickly calmed, and I think that he thought the whole thing was a fine adventure.
Anyway, that was our post-Thanksgiving excitement. Here are some pictures of the G-Man:
Swimming towards Dad.
One laid back Potato.
Helping Mom fold laundry.
Sitting tall.
Whaddya want?Monday, November 12, 2007
Legends of the Fall
Although we live in Minnesota, and the weather is already starting to get cold (we've already had days with frost and flurries), this past Sunday we had a perfect Fall day, and we took Guster for a walk around one of the nearby lakes. Days like Sunday remind me why Fall is my favorite season. Today I found myself thinking about how the season got its name, and I realized that I really didn't know. I had some vague notion that Fall implied something about fallen leaves, but that sounded sort of convenient, and I wasn't sure that was actually true. Then I started to think that this is exactly the type of question that Gus would someday ask, and I wouldn't know the correct answer. Great.
So I decided to take a look and confirmed that, in fact, Fall does denote a connection to fallen leaves. The word traces its origins to old Germanc languages. Although the exact derivation is unclear, the Old English fiæll or feallan and the Old Norse fall all being possible candidates. However, these words all have the meaning "to fall from a height" and are clearly derived either from a common root or from each other. The term came to denote the season in the 16th Century, a contraction of Middle English expressions like "fall of the leaf" and "fall of the year."
Also confirmed: Gus has a big nerd for a Dad.
The other thing that Fall makes me think of is raking leaves. A few weeks ago, the family had a yard work day. Rain had prevented us from mowing our lawn for a few weeks, and the leaves were starting to drop, so on one clear dry Saturday, we hopped to it. Pictures of our day are below:
Suited up for work.
Helping Mom mow.
Posed.
I wonder if I can get this whole thing in my mouth?
It's good!
So I decided to take a look and confirmed that, in fact, Fall does denote a connection to fallen leaves. The word traces its origins to old Germanc languages. Although the exact derivation is unclear, the Old English fiæll or feallan and the Old Norse fall all being possible candidates. However, these words all have the meaning "to fall from a height" and are clearly derived either from a common root or from each other. The term came to denote the season in the 16th Century, a contraction of Middle English expressions like "fall of the leaf" and "fall of the year."
Also confirmed: Gus has a big nerd for a Dad.
The other thing that Fall makes me think of is raking leaves. A few weeks ago, the family had a yard work day. Rain had prevented us from mowing our lawn for a few weeks, and the leaves were starting to drop, so on one clear dry Saturday, we hopped to it. Pictures of our day are below:
Suited up for work.
Helping Mom mow.
Posed.
I wonder if I can get this whole thing in my mouth?
It's good!Thursday, November 8, 2007
The latest and greatest . . .
Things have been pretty busy on the homefront these days. Dan was in town this past weekend, and Steve was able to get a break from his nights and weekend schedule at Lucia's, allowing the three of us to hit the town. A good time was had by all, but at the end of the weekend I felt like I needed a few days off to catch up. Instead, I got to fly to New York, and then drive out to Long Island for work. Blech.
I got back into town yesterday, and must admit that it was heart-meltingly gratifying to see Guster break out a big smile for his Dad. This was a lot nicer than the reception that Emily and I received when we got back from Chicago in August.
The Gus Man is doing a lot of new stuff these days. For starters, he is sitting up all by himself. We had been sitting Gus up before and leaning him against us or pillows, but even then if you didn't steady him, he would topple over to the side. It was funny to watch since Gus had not really figured out that he should get his arms out and brace himself. He kind of looked like Chris Farley in those SNL sketches where he would fall and crash through a table. Maybe physical comedy is a calling . . .
Anyway, about a week ago, Gus decided that it was time for him to sit up by himself. So he just did it. No shaking. No leaning. No toppling over. Well, ok then. Nice job, G-Man.
Gus has also mastered rolling from his back to his stomach. He had not been able to get the hang of it before, but now that he's figured it out, he wants to do it all the time. Especially when he is on the changing table. A poopy diaper, poopy baby, and a zest for rolling are a recipe for disaster waiting to happen.
Mainly Gus is just tons of fun. He is very ticklish (especially under his arms). He also is enjoying playing with his toys -- he received a small wooden rattle from his Grandparents that he just loves to shake. Gus is also amused at the lengths that his parents will go to ensure that he is entertained. Silly songs, nonsense noises, and crazy dancing. Emily and I will do just about anything for the approval of the only judge that matters on Guster Idol.
Pictures below:
No shirt, no shoes, no problem!
Victory!
Lounging.
Golf pants.
Getting ready for a nap with Dad.
I got back into town yesterday, and must admit that it was heart-meltingly gratifying to see Guster break out a big smile for his Dad. This was a lot nicer than the reception that Emily and I received when we got back from Chicago in August.
The Gus Man is doing a lot of new stuff these days. For starters, he is sitting up all by himself. We had been sitting Gus up before and leaning him against us or pillows, but even then if you didn't steady him, he would topple over to the side. It was funny to watch since Gus had not really figured out that he should get his arms out and brace himself. He kind of looked like Chris Farley in those SNL sketches where he would fall and crash through a table. Maybe physical comedy is a calling . . .
Anyway, about a week ago, Gus decided that it was time for him to sit up by himself. So he just did it. No shaking. No leaning. No toppling over. Well, ok then. Nice job, G-Man.
Gus has also mastered rolling from his back to his stomach. He had not been able to get the hang of it before, but now that he's figured it out, he wants to do it all the time. Especially when he is on the changing table. A poopy diaper, poopy baby, and a zest for rolling are a recipe for disaster waiting to happen.
Mainly Gus is just tons of fun. He is very ticklish (especially under his arms). He also is enjoying playing with his toys -- he received a small wooden rattle from his Grandparents that he just loves to shake. Gus is also amused at the lengths that his parents will go to ensure that he is entertained. Silly songs, nonsense noises, and crazy dancing. Emily and I will do just about anything for the approval of the only judge that matters on Guster Idol.
Pictures below:
No shirt, no shoes, no problem!
Victory!
Lounging.
Golf pants. 
Getting ready for a nap with Dad.Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Halloween!
We kicked off the Halloween festivities early this year with a small party on Saturday afternoon. In addition to the grandparents and aunt and uncles, the Filer family was in attendance with a tough looking Spiderman in tow. We decided to go with a family costume. Definitely a step up from the year that Emily and I went as American Gothic. Pictures below:
Doing C.S. Lewis proud.
The Spider-Lady and Spiderman with two-thirds of a Narnia classic.
Grandma and Grandpa Ueland with the Little Lion.
Grandma Adriaens with the Ferocious Beast.
The Guys Hangin' Out.
Doing C.S. Lewis proud.
The Spider-Lady and Spiderman with two-thirds of a Narnia classic.
Grandma and Grandpa Ueland with the Little Lion.
Grandma Adriaens with the Ferocious Beast.
The Guys Hangin' Out.Monday, October 29, 2007
Our Bouncing Baby Boy is Six Months Old!
Happy Half-Birthday, Guster!
Here is a video of the little man:
Here is a video of the little man:
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Motor City Part Deux -- Magic in the air
Whether it was the excitement of the wedding, or the dryness of the hotel room, Gus did not sleep well on Saturday night. Mom got up with Gus around 1:00 am, and tried unsuccessfully to put him back down for the next 45 minutes, before calling out to the bullpen for some relief from Dad. Unfortunately, it was an up and down experience for Dad for the next 90 minutes, and finally at a little after 4:00 am, we gave up and Emily fed Gus. We were scheduled to fly out at 6:40 am, and had asked for a wake up call at 4:45 am, so I tried to get a quick few winks in before the phone rang. I vaguely remember fumbling for the phone and hanging it up when the wake-up call came in, but the next thing I heard was Emily's voice saying, "Kevin, it's 5:30."
Wonks.
More Wonks.
Headed Home. 
Dad is tired, but Gus is enjoying the flight.
ZOINKS! (this is a family friendly blog) 5:30, and the pack 'n play was still set up, we had not yet finished packing, we were not checked in, and we had a 5 and a half-month old baby with us. Not good. Remarkably Emily and I left the hotel room 22 minutes later and rushed through the airport with the suitcase, pack 'n play, and the G-Man (rolling in his new wheels) all in tow. Now, I could blame this mad dash through the airport on the baby or the lack of sleep, and to be sure, this wouldn't be totally ridiculous. But those who know Emily and me know better. Shortly after Emily and I started dating, she took a trip to Hawaii with her family (this was in college). I borrowed a friend's car, and was all set to take Emily to the Cincinnati airport. A couple of wrong turns later I had to drive like Bo Duke to get Emily there in time for her flight. So, I guess what I'm saying is, there is a history. I am sure, in fact, that many readers who are familiar with our antics are thinking of their favorite Kevin and Emily running through the airport like O.J. in that Hertz commercial moment right now.
So we hit the check-in line at roughly 6:00 am. Long line of people with dozens of unused self-check-in machines standing unused. What's wrong with this picture? Isn't some of the convenience of having self-check-in lost when you have to wait for a ticketing agent anyway? Also, doesn't it always seem like when you're in a hurry the people in front of you are just baffled by the steps necessary to check-in using the touch screen? It's as if they all came down with a case of the Amish. It's not that hard people . . . just touch the screen on the big squares that describe the option you want. That's right. Checking bags? IT'S A YES OR NO QUESTION! Total time for the transaction should be approximately 75 seconds, but I swear that two guys took 15 minutes as they alternately poked at the screen, scratched their heads, and looked at each other shrugging their shoulders completely stupefied. All the while, the clock is edging closer and closer to 6:40 am. Finally a terminal opens up, and we quickly print our boarding passes and check our bags (total time approximately 47 seconds). 6:20 am. Uh-oh. Go, go, go, go, go . . .
One of the things that I was looking forward to about traveling with Gus was being in the gate when the announcement came out, "Passengers traveling with children or who need special assistance may now board the airplane." I would stride smugly to the front of the line with Guster in my arms. No more standing in the jet-way for a half an hour. No more standing helplessly in the aisle while Joe Carryon tries to stuff a suitcase that contains all his worldly belongings in the overhead compartment. I would have freedom to move and time to get situated. I had a taste of that on the flight out, but on the way back? Not so much. I am pretty sure that the three of us were the last people on the plane. Looking ahead to our aisle, I saw a woman sitting in the aisle seat engrossed in a book with two empty seats next to her. Hello, neighbor! Um, excuse me? Looks like we're 34A and 34B. Woman looks up at us, takes in Guster, and makes the oh, crap face. Now, there is a distinct possibility that in my days of travel PG (pre-Guster), I may have made a similar face. Even if I have not made such a face outwardly, I know that in the past seeing a baby in my row on a flight was not a cause for celebration, but desperation. Yes, I know that look, and a small part of me felt for the lady. But I also wanted the lady to give Guster a chance. He was not crying, and for all she knew, he wouldn't make a peep the whole flight. Our case with the lady was not strengthened when after sliding by her to our seats, we waited approximately 12 seconds before Emily had to excuse herself to the restroom so that she could dump some of the hot water we scored to warm Gus' bottle down the drain (the bottle full of formula displaced too much hot water -- as Raymond Babbitt would say, "burn baby bad."). The pursed lips told the tale. She was not pleased with her neighbors.
I gave Gus the bottle as we started to take-off expecting that he would fall asleep as he had on the flight out. Turns out that Gus has different plans. Gus finished the bottle and was wide awake. For the next hour or so, Gus squirmed, mauled his ugly doll, and smiled at the passengers that he spied over the seat back. And then the unmistakable aroma of a filled diaper began to waft toward our nostrils. Great. I suggested heading to the bathroom, but Emily said that there wasn't room -- that we were going to have to change Gus right here. On our laps? Gus has started rolling on the changing table, and it is getting harder to change him without it looking like the nursery has had a visit from Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo, so this seemed like a recipe for disaster. But we spread out the changing mat (our prickly neighbor was thankfully asleep), and started undressing Gus. I was in charge of actual changing, and as I undid his diaper I expected the worst . . . I pulled the front down and . . . it was just wet. Thank goodness. I quickly dispatched of the dirty diaper, and cheerfully put a new one on Gus. I've never been so happy about a little gas. I recognize that Emily and I are not the first ones to change a diaper on a plane, but I have to say that I felt like we had done a magic trick in the air -- a death defying stunt if you will. So, if you see me in the coming weeks, this may be a story that I try to tell you. Just cut me off and say you read about it here.
As a postscript, Guster proceeded to fall asleep for the last 20 minutes sprawled out on our legs. Our neighbor, upon waking, looked down at Gus. "He's such a good baby!"
We know.
Wonks.
More Wonks.
Headed Home. Dad is tired, but Gus is enjoying the flight.We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming . . .
To write about something that I think is important and deserving of attention. It is called the "Mom's Opportunity To Access Health, Education, Research and Support for Postpartum Depression Act" -- abbreviated as MOTHERS Act.
The MOTHERS Act will help new moms by:
The MOTHERS Act will help new moms by:
1. Providing important education and screening on postpartum depression (PPD) that can lead to early identification and treatment. The legislation includes two grants to help healthcare providers educate, identify and treat PPD.
2. Expanding important research to improve and discover new treatments, diagnostic tools and educational materials for providers. Since the exact cause of PPD isn't known, research continues to be the key to unlocking the mystery of this condition.
The bill is currently with the Health, Education, Labor & Pensions (HELP) Committee of the Senate. Call your senator and tell them that you want them to support this bill.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Motor City Part I - The Wedding
Our little alarm clock went off at 5:00 am on Saturday morning, wanting to be fed. After Mom fed the little man, he took a short nap with Dad. After a little while, I could feel somebody's eyes on me -- and I opened one eye to see the Gus Man staring me down -- time to get up Dad. Ok.
I threw on some clothes, put Gus in the Bjorn and headed out in search of coffee. As I told Guster, gas makes the car go. Gus was great as we explored the hotel and a bit of the airport (I remembered seeing a Caribou near baggage claim the night before). Gus was quite pleased that the Westin made use of many mirrors as a part of its hallway decor. We stopped in front of each of them, and Gus greeted the baby looking back at him with an excited shriek. After about an hour of wandering, we decided to rouse the Mamma and get some breakfast.
Before too long it was time to get dressed and ready for the wedding. Dudded up, we all headed downstairs to the ballroom where the ceremony was being held. It was really fun to see many people that we had not seen since we left Chicago. One of the familiar faces was Riccardo and Ilana's not-so-little girl, Arianna. Born just a few weeks after Ella (who has also made an appearance on this blog), she is now a 18 months old. In between multiple escalator rides with her dad, and taking a nap with her mom, Arianna would point at Gus, and exclaim, "baby!" Fun stuff.
The ceremony, which was conducted largely in sanskrit, was beautiful. Gus, having witnessed his very first wedding, was overcome with emotion, and needed to retire upstairs for a nap. Refreshed after a brief disco nap, Gus headed downstairs for cocktail hour and the reception. At the reception, Gus broke from tradition, and ate before anybody else (including the wedding party). Much to Gus' relief, peas were in the past, and bananas were next on the food list. Gus sat in a high chair for the first time, and enjoyed a meal of mushy bananas.
Unfortunately for Gus, he had to call it a night before the dancing started (he was looking forward to showing everybody the booty dance in person). Gus and Dad went upstairs and called it a night.
The couple of the hour.
Sitting up and waiting to be fed.
I know I look good.
All dressed up.
The Bodinis -- Riccardo, Ilana, and Arianna.
I threw on some clothes, put Gus in the Bjorn and headed out in search of coffee. As I told Guster, gas makes the car go. Gus was great as we explored the hotel and a bit of the airport (I remembered seeing a Caribou near baggage claim the night before). Gus was quite pleased that the Westin made use of many mirrors as a part of its hallway decor. We stopped in front of each of them, and Gus greeted the baby looking back at him with an excited shriek. After about an hour of wandering, we decided to rouse the Mamma and get some breakfast.
Before too long it was time to get dressed and ready for the wedding. Dudded up, we all headed downstairs to the ballroom where the ceremony was being held. It was really fun to see many people that we had not seen since we left Chicago. One of the familiar faces was Riccardo and Ilana's not-so-little girl, Arianna. Born just a few weeks after Ella (who has also made an appearance on this blog), she is now a 18 months old. In between multiple escalator rides with her dad, and taking a nap with her mom, Arianna would point at Gus, and exclaim, "baby!" Fun stuff.
The ceremony, which was conducted largely in sanskrit, was beautiful. Gus, having witnessed his very first wedding, was overcome with emotion, and needed to retire upstairs for a nap. Refreshed after a brief disco nap, Gus headed downstairs for cocktail hour and the reception. At the reception, Gus broke from tradition, and ate before anybody else (including the wedding party). Much to Gus' relief, peas were in the past, and bananas were next on the food list. Gus sat in a high chair for the first time, and enjoyed a meal of mushy bananas.
Unfortunately for Gus, he had to call it a night before the dancing started (he was looking forward to showing everybody the booty dance in person). Gus and Dad went upstairs and called it a night.
The couple of the hour.
Sitting up and waiting to be fed.
I know I look good.
All dressed up.
The Bodinis -- Riccardo, Ilana, and Arianna. Leaving on a jet plane . . .
This past Friday night Gus took his first flight to Detroit so that he could attend our friends Maneesha and Damian's wedding. As anyone who has seen Meet the Parents knows you can't say bomb on an airplane, but if somebody were to have asked me how I felt about our first flight with Guster, I would have said that I was nervous, and that I felt like I was traveling with a bomb. I had visions in my head of me bouncing up and down through the aisle with a screaming G-Man in my arms, with weary travelers trying to melt our faces with their death stares. But it turns out that my worry was much ado about nothing.
Our flight out was at 9:40 pm on Friday night, so Gus took a light nap at Grandma and Grandpa Adriaens' before we packed up and headed to the airport. Because we've traveled without him in the past, it seemed like Gus was sizing up the situation, trying to guess where Mom and Dad were going this time. When we started putting him in the car seat, Gus got very excited -- wherever we were going, he was going too. The excitement continued once we made it to the airport. Gus liked looking out the window at all the planes, fuel trucks, and baggage carts on the tarmac, and smiled at the other travelers. Gus was just beaming as we boarded the plane. Fortunately the flight out was fairly empty and we had an entire row to ourselves. Mom started feeding Gus just before takeoff, and the little man slept like an angel all the way to Detroit.
Once we hit the ground we were pretty much where we needed to be as we were staying at the Westin at DTW airport. Guster stayed sleeping as we brought him up to the room and set up the pack 'n play. We all hit the rack at a little after midnight.
Here is Gustafer at the airport:
Our flight out was at 9:40 pm on Friday night, so Gus took a light nap at Grandma and Grandpa Adriaens' before we packed up and headed to the airport. Because we've traveled without him in the past, it seemed like Gus was sizing up the situation, trying to guess where Mom and Dad were going this time. When we started putting him in the car seat, Gus got very excited -- wherever we were going, he was going too. The excitement continued once we made it to the airport. Gus liked looking out the window at all the planes, fuel trucks, and baggage carts on the tarmac, and smiled at the other travelers. Gus was just beaming as we boarded the plane. Fortunately the flight out was fairly empty and we had an entire row to ourselves. Mom started feeding Gus just before takeoff, and the little man slept like an angel all the way to Detroit.
Once we hit the ground we were pretty much where we needed to be as we were staying at the Westin at DTW airport. Guster stayed sleeping as we brought him up to the room and set up the pack 'n play. We all hit the rack at a little after midnight.
Here is Gustafer at the airport:
Sunday, October 14, 2007
All We Are Saying is Give Peas a Chance . . .
The weekend was a good one. Saturday Guster made his first trip to the Minneapolis Farmer's Market on Lyndale Avenue (his previous trips were all to the Mill City Market). Gus seemed to like it -- and Dad did too. By the way, if you think that 7:30 a.m. is too early for a fully loaded bratwurst, you got another thing coming.
Sunday the family was supposed to head to Plymouth to celebrate the baptism of JoAnna and Andy's baby, Noah. But Noah was running a fever on Saturday night and Sunday morning, and because the Gus Man was recently fighting a cold of his own, and out of an abundance of caution, Dad and Gus stayed home, while Mom attended the festivities. The G-Man and Dad wore each other out playing and reading The Poky Puppy, and Gus announced that it was time for a nap. Gus took a short snooze before signaling that it was then time to eat. Dad had neglected to ready the bottle in advance, so had to scramble to heat the water, and, in the meantime divert Gus' attention. Much to Gus' chagrin, Dad had the brilliant idea of strapping the baby in the Bjorn and heading for a lap around the block. Gus hated this idea, and told me all the reasons why while I was busy bundling him into his hoodie. But Dad listened about as well as the President listened to the Baker-Hamilton report, and we ventured out into the cold, October mist. Back inside, Guster went to work on the bottle, and Dad took the opportunity to take a peek at the pregame for the Vikings-Bears match-up. But alas, Gus was quickly through, and since Emily and I have recognized that we are hopelessly addicted to t.v. (God bless the DVR), we are trying to lead Gus away from the pitfalls of the rot-box -- so once Gus was done, and turned his head towards the big black box, it was time to turn it off and head upstairs for some more playtime.
Gus and I had a good time playing for about an hour and a half, but then a little man's barking told me that he would like to take another nap. As he quickly fell asleep on my shoulder, I snuck back downstairs with him and flipped on the game. Guster stayed asleep for the duration, and the Vikings won (barely). Good stuff.
After a trip to the grocery store, it was time to continue our out of a jar gastronomical education. Sweet potatoes? In the rear-view mirror, baby! The new week kicks off with peas. Guster got his first bite of peas today -- or at least the mush that bills itself as peas. As was the case with the sweet potatoes, there was an initial grimace, followed by Gus quickly deciding that peas (not pork) was what's for dinner. I think he ate most -- if not all -- of the entire jar. He's a good eater. Sorry, once again, for an insufferably terrible pun.
Cute stuff below:
This was actually last weekend at the Egg & I. Dad loves this place, so does Grandpa A.
Hanging out.
Lounging in his velvet pjs. Gus is a Hugh Heffner in training.
Peas be with you.
And also with you.
Sunday the family was supposed to head to Plymouth to celebrate the baptism of JoAnna and Andy's baby, Noah. But Noah was running a fever on Saturday night and Sunday morning, and because the Gus Man was recently fighting a cold of his own, and out of an abundance of caution, Dad and Gus stayed home, while Mom attended the festivities. The G-Man and Dad wore each other out playing and reading The Poky Puppy, and Gus announced that it was time for a nap. Gus took a short snooze before signaling that it was then time to eat. Dad had neglected to ready the bottle in advance, so had to scramble to heat the water, and, in the meantime divert Gus' attention. Much to Gus' chagrin, Dad had the brilliant idea of strapping the baby in the Bjorn and heading for a lap around the block. Gus hated this idea, and told me all the reasons why while I was busy bundling him into his hoodie. But Dad listened about as well as the President listened to the Baker-Hamilton report, and we ventured out into the cold, October mist. Back inside, Guster went to work on the bottle, and Dad took the opportunity to take a peek at the pregame for the Vikings-Bears match-up. But alas, Gus was quickly through, and since Emily and I have recognized that we are hopelessly addicted to t.v. (God bless the DVR), we are trying to lead Gus away from the pitfalls of the rot-box -- so once Gus was done, and turned his head towards the big black box, it was time to turn it off and head upstairs for some more playtime.
Gus and I had a good time playing for about an hour and a half, but then a little man's barking told me that he would like to take another nap. As he quickly fell asleep on my shoulder, I snuck back downstairs with him and flipped on the game. Guster stayed asleep for the duration, and the Vikings won (barely). Good stuff.
After a trip to the grocery store, it was time to continue our out of a jar gastronomical education. Sweet potatoes? In the rear-view mirror, baby! The new week kicks off with peas. Guster got his first bite of peas today -- or at least the mush that bills itself as peas. As was the case with the sweet potatoes, there was an initial grimace, followed by Gus quickly deciding that peas (not pork) was what's for dinner. I think he ate most -- if not all -- of the entire jar. He's a good eater. Sorry, once again, for an insufferably terrible pun.
Cute stuff below:
This was actually last weekend at the Egg & I. Dad loves this place, so does Grandpa A.
Hanging out.
Lounging in his velvet pjs. Gus is a Hugh Heffner in training.
Peas be with you.
And also with you.Sunday, October 7, 2007
My what big teeth you have . . .
Guster has been back off the sleeping bandwagon, as he has been battling a bit of a cold that has given him a cough and congestion of a pack-a-day smoker. But there may be another reason that the little man is having trouble sleeping -- in fact, there may be two reasons. Little and white, and razor sharp -- yep, Gus is getting his first teeth. Emily was the first to feel their sting -- or at least the first to be able to tell about it. I'm afraid that Gus' two elephant friends on his bouncy chair have been feeling them for a bit (pun, sadly, intended).
The arrival of teeth has coincided with another big event for the G-Unit. Last night we gave Gus his first non-rice cereal food. It was sweet potatoes, and the little man LOVED them. We had read that babies sometimes only eat a few bites on their first dip into the new and exciting world of flavors in a jar, but Gus dove right in -- nearly finishing an entire jar in his first sitting. At one point we thought he was done, but he hollered, so I fed him a few more spoonfulls. Unsatisfied at how slowly I reloaded the spoon, Gus grabbed the spoon and jar himself and pulled both towards his hungry mouth. This kid can eat.
Gus also took another trip to the Mill City farmer's market this weekend, and came home with his first pumpkin. As Halloween approaches, we're still trying to nail down a costume for Guster. Any suggestions?
What you all come for is below:
Guster and Dad
Puffing out those chipmunk cheeks
Mom, Dad, and two pumpkins
An armful
You have a little something . . . just above your lip . . . on your cheek, you almost got it . . .
The arrival of teeth has coincided with another big event for the G-Unit. Last night we gave Gus his first non-rice cereal food. It was sweet potatoes, and the little man LOVED them. We had read that babies sometimes only eat a few bites on their first dip into the new and exciting world of flavors in a jar, but Gus dove right in -- nearly finishing an entire jar in his first sitting. At one point we thought he was done, but he hollered, so I fed him a few more spoonfulls. Unsatisfied at how slowly I reloaded the spoon, Gus grabbed the spoon and jar himself and pulled both towards his hungry mouth. This kid can eat.
Gus also took another trip to the Mill City farmer's market this weekend, and came home with his first pumpkin. As Halloween approaches, we're still trying to nail down a costume for Guster. Any suggestions?
What you all come for is below:
Guster and Dad
Puffing out those chipmunk cheeks
Mom, Dad, and two pumpkins
An armful
You have a little something . . . just above your lip . . . on your cheek, you almost got it . . .
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