Sometimes I'll read S my entries in this blog before I post them. The other night I was doing this -- I was roughly three-quarters of the way through -- and she starts laughing hysterically. Normally this is a welcome reaction, but I wasn't at a part that's supposed to be funny.
Me: What? Why are you laughing?
Her: Hahaha... Because... Hahaha... This is such a long entry... Hahahah... And you're just talking about stupid stuff from our vacation... Hahaha... Nobody is going to read this... Hahaha... And this is how you spend... Hahaha... Your... Hahaha... Free... Hahaha... Time... Hahaha... Hours... Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha...
And with that: part two.
Day 7: July 6, Fife, WA
S's cousin and her family randomly live near my parents, and her son recently graduated from high school, so they threw him a graduation party on Saturday. A bunch of S's family, including her parents, came in from out of town, and my entire immediately family came, so it was the first big G & G family get-together since the wedding in Bangalore. It was fun, and the food was good.
The only part I don't like when our families meet up is the introductions. I know most everybody's name in S's family, but when an appropriate moment comes to use one, I get a weird pang of anxiety that I'm going to mess it up, somehow. Part of the problem is that they have Indian names that don't roll easily off my American-English tongue, but also it's because I just do that with people I haven't spent a lot of time with. It's kind of an OCD-type of thing, like checking your alarm five times, or turning your car around halfway down the block to go back and make sure the house door you just locked is in fact locked. Like, say, there's somebody named Ryan whom I've met a few times. When I go to use his name I immediately think the correct name, Ryan, but then something will pop into my head -- "Are you sure it's really Ryan?" -- even though I know his name is Ryan (the same way you know you already locked the door even though you're checking it). The upshot is that I often just avoid using people's names until I hear somebody else use it.
Day 8: July 7, U.P.
My parents host a meet-and-greet on their back patio. This is something that never could have happened when I lived there, because back then we didn't have a back patio. We didn't even really have a backyard; it was more like one giant thorn bush. It's remarkable how much nicer the house is now. I guess that's what happens when homeowners are in the A.D. phase* of their lives.
Again the party is fun, and the food is good (catered by Chez Costco), but S and I quickly learn it's a struggled to take Lil' S outside, because as soon as you set him down he crawls to the nearest scrap of foliage and puts it in his mouth. My parent's yard is covered with these little things from fir trees (we call them nerdles, but I'm pretty sure that's not the scientific name), and I must have rooted out about a dozen of them from Lil' S's mouth throughout the day.
Day 9: July 8, U.P.
Another lazy day in U.P. Well, lazy isn't the right word. I was up at 6:30 a.m. as I was almost everyday throughout the trip. Lil' S ended up in bed with us for at least half of every night, and it's hard for me to sleep next to him. For one thing, I'm so much bigger than him that I bend the bed, so that he rolls into me, much the way a bigger celestial object bends space to emit a gravitational pull on a smaller object. Then -- keeping the space analogy going -- it's like I have a little star sleeping adjacent to me, as he curls up into an orb and radiates massive amounts of heat onto my back. It's much cuter than it is comfortable.
At night we go to my sister's and brother-in-law's for dinner with family and friends. My brother is there with his wife and their six-month old baby, Q-Ball. Q-Ball is roughly four months younger than Lil' S and roughly four pounds heavy. The kid is huge. He and Lil' S couldn't really interact too much, because Lil' S is too rough with him right now. Q-Ball likes to just sit there and chill (well, that's really all he can do), and Lil' S is becoming a little baby bruiser. He'll kinda wrestle now (I've been teaching him well, apparently), by which I mean he'll crawl up to somebody, latch his little claws onto whatever body parts he can get a hold of, and then thrust himself forward. Q-Ball didn't really appreciate this, so we mainly kept them apart. Actually, it's kinda funny that each son's personality mirrors his father's. I was a lanky scrapper as a kid, and my bro was a gentle giant. Is this genetics? Is it the result of responses to very early behavioral cues? Or is it actually not true, and I'm just grafting the personalities onto the babies that I expect them to have? I have no idea.
[Note: I just realized how late it's getting, and there is no way I'm extending this entry to a third part, so it's hyper-blog from here on out.]
Day 10: July 9, U.P.
Family picture day at Chambers Bay. Beautiful.
Day 11: July 10, Olympia
We take a day trip to Olympia to visit S's friend and her one-year old. It's great, but she lives on a lake, and never suggests we go down to the water. I'm not sure why. Maybe she was worried about having the kids down there. Whatever. It's still fun.
Day 12: July 11, U.P.
The whole family gets together for a cookout on my parents' patio. We roast marshmallows over a gas fire, eat s'mores, and tell jokes and ghost stories. Well, technically I didn't eat any s'mores. I fucking hate marshmallows.
Day 13: July 12, Seattle
I ditch the wife and kid in Federal Way and head up to Seattle to see some folks. We go to this cool, hipster-y, corner store-looking place called Chuck's Hop Shop for a few beers. It's great to see everybody. I can't help but pine, at least a tiny bit, for the good ol' carefree kid-less days of the twenty aughts.
Day 14: July 13, D.C.
We make it back to D.C. safely; which is pretty much the only thing positive I can say about our trip home. We pack two spare outfits for Lil' S for the flights (we have a layover in S.F.), and it's not enough. He incredibly takes three onesie-busting dumps in a span of eight hours. The last one he just has to wallow in for a few hours until we land and get our luggage at Dulles. Unless we want to fashion some baby clothing out of a barf bag it's our only option.
At one point I changed him in the bathroom of a small commuter jet with no changing table. It's up there for the worst ten minutes of my life.
Until next time...
*A joke my dad likes to tell is that there are two phase of freedom in your adult life, B.C. and A.D. Before Children and After Dog. Solid witticism.
Me: What? Why are you laughing?
Her: Hahaha... Because... Hahaha... This is such a long entry... Hahahah... And you're just talking about stupid stuff from our vacation... Hahaha... Nobody is going to read this... Hahaha... And this is how you spend... Hahaha... Your... Hahaha... Free... Hahaha... Time... Hahaha... Hours... Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahaha...
And with that: part two.
[Chambers Bay 1]
Day 7: July 6, Fife, WA
S's cousin and her family randomly live near my parents, and her son recently graduated from high school, so they threw him a graduation party on Saturday. A bunch of S's family, including her parents, came in from out of town, and my entire immediately family came, so it was the first big G & G family get-together since the wedding in Bangalore. It was fun, and the food was good.
The only part I don't like when our families meet up is the introductions. I know most everybody's name in S's family, but when an appropriate moment comes to use one, I get a weird pang of anxiety that I'm going to mess it up, somehow. Part of the problem is that they have Indian names that don't roll easily off my American-English tongue, but also it's because I just do that with people I haven't spent a lot of time with. It's kind of an OCD-type of thing, like checking your alarm five times, or turning your car around halfway down the block to go back and make sure the house door you just locked is in fact locked. Like, say, there's somebody named Ryan whom I've met a few times. When I go to use his name I immediately think the correct name, Ryan, but then something will pop into my head -- "Are you sure it's really Ryan?" -- even though I know his name is Ryan (the same way you know you already locked the door even though you're checking it). The upshot is that I often just avoid using people's names until I hear somebody else use it.
[Chambers Bay 2]
Day 8: July 7, U.P.
My parents host a meet-and-greet on their back patio. This is something that never could have happened when I lived there, because back then we didn't have a back patio. We didn't even really have a backyard; it was more like one giant thorn bush. It's remarkable how much nicer the house is now. I guess that's what happens when homeowners are in the A.D. phase* of their lives.
Again the party is fun, and the food is good (catered by Chez Costco), but S and I quickly learn it's a struggled to take Lil' S outside, because as soon as you set him down he crawls to the nearest scrap of foliage and puts it in his mouth. My parent's yard is covered with these little things from fir trees (we call them nerdles, but I'm pretty sure that's not the scientific name), and I must have rooted out about a dozen of them from Lil' S's mouth throughout the day.
Day 9: July 8, U.P.
Another lazy day in U.P. Well, lazy isn't the right word. I was up at 6:30 a.m. as I was almost everyday throughout the trip. Lil' S ended up in bed with us for at least half of every night, and it's hard for me to sleep next to him. For one thing, I'm so much bigger than him that I bend the bed, so that he rolls into me, much the way a bigger celestial object bends space to emit a gravitational pull on a smaller object. Then -- keeping the space analogy going -- it's like I have a little star sleeping adjacent to me, as he curls up into an orb and radiates massive amounts of heat onto my back. It's much cuter than it is comfortable.
[Chambers Bay 3]
At night we go to my sister's and brother-in-law's for dinner with family and friends. My brother is there with his wife and their six-month old baby, Q-Ball. Q-Ball is roughly four months younger than Lil' S and roughly four pounds heavy. The kid is huge. He and Lil' S couldn't really interact too much, because Lil' S is too rough with him right now. Q-Ball likes to just sit there and chill (well, that's really all he can do), and Lil' S is becoming a little baby bruiser. He'll kinda wrestle now (I've been teaching him well, apparently), by which I mean he'll crawl up to somebody, latch his little claws onto whatever body parts he can get a hold of, and then thrust himself forward. Q-Ball didn't really appreciate this, so we mainly kept them apart. Actually, it's kinda funny that each son's personality mirrors his father's. I was a lanky scrapper as a kid, and my bro was a gentle giant. Is this genetics? Is it the result of responses to very early behavioral cues? Or is it actually not true, and I'm just grafting the personalities onto the babies that I expect them to have? I have no idea.
[Note: I just realized how late it's getting, and there is no way I'm extending this entry to a third part, so it's hyper-blog from here on out.]
Day 10: July 9, U.P.
Family picture day at Chambers Bay. Beautiful.
Day 11: July 10, Olympia
We take a day trip to Olympia to visit S's friend and her one-year old. It's great, but she lives on a lake, and never suggests we go down to the water. I'm not sure why. Maybe she was worried about having the kids down there. Whatever. It's still fun.
[The lake by S's friend's house near Olympia.]
Day 12: July 11, U.P.
The whole family gets together for a cookout on my parents' patio. We roast marshmallows over a gas fire, eat s'mores, and tell jokes and ghost stories. Well, technically I didn't eat any s'mores. I fucking hate marshmallows.
Day 13: July 12, Seattle
I ditch the wife and kid in Federal Way and head up to Seattle to see some folks. We go to this cool, hipster-y, corner store-looking place called Chuck's Hop Shop for a few beers. It's great to see everybody. I can't help but pine, at least a tiny bit, for the good ol' carefree kid-less days of the twenty aughts.
Day 14: July 13, D.C.
We make it back to D.C. safely; which is pretty much the only thing positive I can say about our trip home. We pack two spare outfits for Lil' S for the flights (we have a layover in S.F.), and it's not enough. He incredibly takes three onesie-busting dumps in a span of eight hours. The last one he just has to wallow in for a few hours until we land and get our luggage at Dulles. Unless we want to fashion some baby clothing out of a barf bag it's our only option.
At one point I changed him in the bathroom of a small commuter jet with no changing table. It's up there for the worst ten minutes of my life.
Until next time...
*A joke my dad likes to tell is that there are two phase of freedom in your adult life, B.C. and A.D. Before Children and After Dog. Solid witticism.
I read both entries, but mostly just to see my own initials mentioned. It's a bonus my kids' initials made it in also.
ReplyDeleteIt was great to see you all and we all miss you already.
Speaking of your kids, I forgot to mention how impressed I was with G's Go Fish strategy. He's a pretty sharp 5-year old.
ReplyDeleteDon't worry D, I'm one of your loyal 15 readers. I like reading most of your entries (except the ones where you talk about sports, I totally skip those!) and find your play by play of conversations with my sis hilarious!
ReplyDeleteThanks SG, you give me ammo to use against your sister when she says nobody will read it :)
ReplyDelete