The Hardest Working Baby in Show Business

Poor Guster is the source of endless entertainment for his parents, who unfortunately for him, have an affinity for the old school song Pump Up the Jam, by Technotronic (yeah, that's what that song is supposed to be).

I'm sorry, Guster.

The Tango

There is a number in the musical Rent where a woman's ex-boyfriend and current girlfriend discuss the woman's mercurial yet alluring manner. The woman's name is Maureen, and the song is called "The Tango Maureen." The song is about how Maureen puts her lovers through the paces -- and keeps them coming back for more. Well, that song has been in the back of my head the past few nights as Gus has taken the proverbial two steps back in his sleep development. Faithful readers of this blog know that recently, I lauded the little Gus Man for his new found affinity for sleeping through the night in his crib. Well, the past few nights, Gus has decided to put the "No" in No-Doz, and has rebuffed our efforts to put him down. He will quiet down for us, and reach the state of sleep, or something near it, but as soon as you put him down, his head will pop up, and he lets out an indignant cry as he looks around for the person responsible for imprisoning him in his crib. So then, you pick him up, and Gus nuzzles in and lets out a contented sigh that makes you melt. Gus then starts to drift off to sleep . . . so what do you do, you put him in the crib, and sure enough, the head pops up and we start again. Frustrating? To be sure. But Gus makes it hard to stay that way what with all the snuggling. Emily and I are dancing the Tango Gus. We put him down, and hope that he's going to be good for the night and then spring up when he hollers. "And you toss and you turn . . . and you yearn and you churn -- and rebound." Hopefully this is just a phase. Mom and Dad are far too wimpy to employ the crying it out method, at least for now. Other than this, Gus is a happy little baby boy. Here is a recent picture of the little man smiling for his Mom:

Gus Speaks

As you can see in the video below, Gus is quite chatty. It's long, but, hey, Gus has lots to say.

Keep on Rockin' in the free world . . .

This past weekend, Emily and I proved that 30 is the new 22 and braved the heat and hipsters back in our old stomping grounds at Lollapalooza 2007. With Dan as our accomplice, we saw some amazing music, including My Morning Jacket, The Black Keys, and Minnesota natives Tapes 'n Tapes and The Hold Steady. But the real highlight was on Sunday night. Surrounded by 200,000 plus, we sang along as Pearl Jam ripped through classics like State of Love and Trust and Corduroy, and a surreal cover of Neil Young's Keep On Rockin' In the Free World that featured Ben Harper, Dennis Rodman, and (Emily swears) Bill Clinton. A view of the action is below:

Copyright Chicago Tribune, E. Jason Wambsgans.

The only bad thing about our Windy City-redux was the absence of the Gus Man. We thought that the sun and fun might be a little too much stimulation for our little 3 month old, so he stayed back in Minneapolis with Grandma and Grandpa Adriaens. (Other parents did not agree -- we saw plenty of strollers, and a guy with a baby on his shoulders that didn't look too much older than Gus rocking out to The Hold Steady).

But our time away only proved that distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Once back in Minneapolis we were falling all over ourselves clamoring to be the first to hoist the little man in the air and give him a squeeze. I literally jumped out of the car before it came to a complete stop and ran up the front porch so that I could be first. The little man is nobody's fool. He didn't go immediately ga-ga for papa (or, for that matter mama), but he eventually warmed up and seemed genuinely excited to have us back.

In other Gus news, I am excited to report that he is now regularly sleeping through the night. In his crib. We've given into the dark side and started sleeping the little man on his stomach. He now goes down anywhere from 7:30pm to 8:30pm, and doesn't wake up until around 6:30am. Amazing. The middle picture below is a shot of Gus napping (that isn't his crib -- it's our bed. Gus still likes to nap with mom), and as you can kind of tell, Gus sticks his little booty in the air. While sleeping he kicks his legs from time to time, which scoots the little guy forward a little. Over the course of the night, he can travel a length longer than his own body. Crawling can't be too far away. On to the pictures:

As you can see, the little man has taken a real liking to his burp cloths, and likes to hold them close like little blankets.
Scooter taking a nap.

The Prince on his throne.

Diaper Blowouts

This past New Years Eve, Emily (pregnant with Gus) and I went over to our dear friends Steve and Dana's place. Dan and Jess, stubbornly still living in Chicago, came up for the weekend too and brought along with them Ella Claire, my favorite Goddaughter, who at the time was 9 months old.
At one point in the evening, Jess disappeared down the hall to change Ella's diaper. Some time elapsed, and then Jess was calling down the hall way for Dan to come and give her a hand. At least 30 more minutes elapsed before Dan and Jess emerged with Ella in tow. Dan was now just wearing a t-shirt, and Jess had changed her clothes as well. Naively, I wondered what could possibly have happened in there? Jess said two words: diaper blowout.

Diaper blowout? Surely that was an overstatement. How could somebody as adorable as Ella (below) create such a mess in her diaper so as to require both parents sets of hands and both parents to change their clothes?

I now know cuteness bears no relation to ability to cause a stink or to cause the dreaded diaper blowout. The Gus Man was on a particular roll last week, successfully pooping on his clothes on at least five occassions, culminating with a diaper changing fiasco this past Sunday, with yours truly suffering the brunt of it.

Emily wanted to run an errand, and I stayed at home to put Gus to bed. As I was holding him and rocking him, I felt something warm on my shirt (I was holding him facing out), and looked down and saw a dark circle forming. I then looked at Gus, and as I suspected, the telltalle dingy brown was beginning to show through his onesie.

I quickly manuvered Gus over to the changing table and got his onesie off. I then took his diaper off, only to have a jet of poo shoot out and splash on my right forearm. Ick.

Unfazed, I wiped my arm with one of Gus' diaper wipes, and forged ahead. Perhaps sensing that I was not to be so easily daunted, Gus decided to go with plan B -- and promptly sent a strem of urine in my direction, hitting me in the chest and arm. Great.

I quickly slipped off my shirt and continued ahead. Gus gave me a grin and hit me again with another quick stream -- this time hitting bare skin. Ok, buddy you win. I finished wiping both of us down and got Gus in his PJs, but I know now to fear and respect the diaper blowout. Here are some pictures of the little guy:

Smiles for Mom.

Caught in the act by the Pop-a-Razzi.

I think I'm a little too small for this ride . . .

Road Trip . . .

With Dad stuck at the office, Mom and Gus hit the road with Grandma and Grandpa Adriaens and headed for Lake Winnibigoshish. Gus was an excellent traveler, and, like a good Minnesotan, enjoyed some R&R at the cabin. Here are some trip highlights:

Head out on the highway . . . looking for adventure

Getting clean.

Hanging out with Mom, Otis Redding style.

With Mom and Grandma.

With this hat on, I totally look of age.

A brief history . . .

So as Gus approaches the end of his third-month, I thought that it would be a good time for a little pictorial stroll down memory lane. Looking back at these pictures, it's amazing to see how much the Gus Man has changed. Enjoy.

"The Thinker" -- this is the day we brought Gus home.

The Peanut in the car seat.

So tired. This is where Gus napped for a few weeks.

Sitting up and paying attention.

Who can resist that smiling face?