A cool day in July

It was an unseasonable July 4th around here – it stayed in the 80s! – and a heavy afternoon downpour rained out our local picnicking, turtle races and horseshoe tournament. But the sun came out in time to dry the ground enough for blanket-seating, and the hometown fireworks display was impressive.

My family punctuates the most celebratory times – graduations, weddings, the New Year – with bottle rockets and Roman candles, regardless of the season — we’re a fireworks-loving bunch. We had placed bets on Jack’s reaction, with my mom (she “couldn’t wait” to see his face at first sight of the fireworks) and husband betting that he’d like it. She was losing her confidence before it even started, worrying that hers might be a “You’ll love it! It’ll be fun!” moment akin to the one that led her to put my scaredy-cat sister and I on the carousel twenty-something years ago.

Not quite: Like many other babies in attendance on Saturday, he was a fan of the lights but not of the booms, and he hung in there. The screechingest varieties made him hide his face, but he watched the rest tear-free. We kept our faces carefully, deliberately happy, amazed and close to his, and it was a happy fourth.

Happy Fourth

We’re dressed for one!

Breakfast and a show

Yesterday the universities were closed for the Fourth, so we were home to see two cement trucks at work in the yard. It was exciting, and not only for Jack.

The foundation work won’t be finished until the middle of next week, but framing starts on Monday.(!!!)

tooth and nail

When it comes to the stuff of daily a.m. and p.m. routines, we think: wake up; coffee; dinner; bed. And even in those cases, the schedule varies – the only requirement being that each actually happens at some point.

I think this may be why neither D, Jack nor I  turned out to be much of a baby hygienius – things like bath-taking, clothes-changing and nail-clipping get squeezed in wherever they fit (or whenever we remember). Jack’s bath time, for instance, is not the soothing, sleep-inducing routine that manuals of the What to Expect… variety recommend. If it’s light outside, he’s in a good mood and we’ve all been fed, then it’s long, splashy and toy-filled. If it’s 9 p.m. and an afterthought, he’s going to be sitting in the kitchen sink with water up to his belly button, getting a top-down rinse from the spray nozzle.

A few weeks ago, Jack started putting himself to bed each night, whine-free and for the duration. He’s even started brushing his hair (anything with bristles will do). Between this do-it-himself scheduling and his new need for regular teeth-brushing, we’ve been trying to make a lot of things more routine and less battle.

This morning, a real coup: I managed to clip Jack’s fingernails, which were just shy of being visible from the Hubble Space Telescope, without consulting a medical professional. When he was tiny and new, all I needed was a magnifying glass; recently, I’ve needed a team of experts. Or maybe the pair of nurses who hold him down for immunizations – they know how to get in, get out and still get the job done. Lately, I know how to give up: our compromises have involved an average of one nail clipped per three or so days.

I’ve been impressed for many months now at his defensive instincts. He honed his wiggling, kicking, flailing, screaming and blocking skills protecting himself from nose wipings and a winter week of eye drops.  Now he can push, pull and maneuver with the best of them.

But I’m still stronger, and occasionally more determined (I think Jack would tell you that a session with me and the nail clippers is akin to being stuck in a bench vice that eventually lets go). And today, he decided to give up before I let it go. It may be a cheap victory for me, but I’ll take it.

Fresh faces

They’re not quite baby faces any more.

He delights in imitation, which means he already has his own version of “Try me.”

Live on two legs

Jack, in his walking shoes.

D came home with these recently, and too-big as they are, the little guy loves them. Somehow, their sturdy and flat rubber soles made him surer-footed, and stomping and flapping around on them is his new favorite thing. If Jack had a soundtrack, Paolo Nutini would be singing behind this scene about new shoes  (…and suddenly everything is right…).

(I would say something like “if only it were that simple,” but if I could throw my wallet to the wind, on many days  it really would be that simple. Silly but true.)

To sum up, cool shoes are a big deal around our house: They brighten my day; in Jack, they inspire bipedalism. He’s a baby after my own heart.

No complaints

• Some days I think of it as Mary Poppins’ bottomless carpet bag, and on many others I feel like it’s an over-full suitcase with a struggling zipper, but our living room arrangement is holding strong.
• This is in part thanks to Jack, who last week brought back the good night’s sleep. He goes to bed and stays there: I like that in a (14-month old!) baby. Goodbye, 4 a.m.
• Last weekend during a concert at our local ballpark, I talked with an old friend who’s building a house about 10 miles from us – along with a pond he’s digging as a water source. As a kid, I liked the way the tadpoles swam out of our faucet and landed with the dishes, but I didn’t love hauling water from the spring.  Now we have city water, and I can still get my fill of pond at my dad’s. When tomorrow hits 100 degrees, I just might.
• At closing time today, I sent home 75 [mostly] happy campers, whom I count like blessings. They were 6th and 7th graders who came to spend a week on campus with us to learn and make new friends, and I think all of them did.  Next stop: high school students. (Thank you; I’ll need it.)

It’s groundbreaking!

I came home yesterday to a war zone. In our case, that spells progress.

Behind closed doors

Jack’s latest favorite territories get marked with his signature smudges.

Newspapers from the recycling bin and a spray bottle of water + a couple teaspoons of white vingar give him a clean slate to cloud over with fingerprints tomorrow (it’ll give you streak-free windows, too).

$1 fun