January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Some of my favorites
Kami is a wonderful photographer. So wonderful, in fact, that you should give her money to take pictures for you. Here are a few of my favorite photos from 2013:
January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
Date Night
Note: I know how shamefully behind I am in the mission of this blog. I'll do better. Maybe.
For the first time since Emsley was born, Kami and I had the opportunity to go on a date night on Friday. Our friends Katie and Josh came over after Emsley went to bed and hung out while Kami and I went to go see Joe Firstman play his excellent album - "The War of Women" - in its entirety live at 3rd & Lindsley here in Nashville.
Now, a quick update: Emsley has been sleeping through the night since she was six weeks old. I know, for the most part, that this has nothing to do with our skills as parents and more to do with the grace of God. But she has fallen into this thing where, no matter what time she goes to bed, she wakes up between 5:30 and 6:00am. I am a morning person, but it would be awfully fun to sleep until...I don't know...maybe 7am once in a while.
So Kami and I head into Nashville. The doors are to open at 9pm, with the show starting at 9:30pm. During soundcheck I immediately thought, "Hm. I should have brought ear plugs. This is too loud," which is the most obvious sign I'm getting old - more so than the creaky left knee or the nose hair that I have to beat back with a pair of rusted garden shears every other morning.
Of course the first act didn't come on until 10pm. The second act came on at 10:30pm (everyone does need to check out John Wesley Satterfield). And then Joe Firstman came on at 11pm...and played for two solid hours.
The concert was over at 1am and, after some dawdling after the show, we were home by 1:30am. Emsley - who has not awakened in the middle of the night in at least five months - had a meltdown at 11:30pm, further enraged by the fact that neither Kami and I were there when Katie brought her in to the living room. After an hour she fell back asleep, and of course Kami and I felt awful.
Off to bed we went at 2:15, hoping that the hour-long meltdown in the middle of the night might buy us an extra 45 minutes of sleep. But HAHA HAHAHAHAAAA. Emsley was up at 5:45.
I volunteered to stay up and feed her and play with her because, you know, I'm a sweetheart and also, a mountain stage in the Tour de France. I'm so Eurotrash. (I'm watching it now, instead of taking a nap).
We were able to go back to sleep - twice - yesterday, meaning that it took two naps to recover. Oh but we haven't recovered. Kami and I both feel like we got hit by a truck.
Today is Birthday Sunday at Otter Creek, as Thursday is her first birthday. Emsley woke up at - surprise - 5:45, had some formula (which we have been phasing out as she is eating a wide variety of things. Yesterday we debuted bacon, nitrate-free of course, and she looked at us as though to say, "Why has it taken this long for you to teach me about this wonderful meat?"), ate some yogurt and bananas, and is now asleep. I'll have pictures later.
Speaking of pictures:
For the first time since Emsley was born, Kami and I had the opportunity to go on a date night on Friday. Our friends Katie and Josh came over after Emsley went to bed and hung out while Kami and I went to go see Joe Firstman play his excellent album - "The War of Women" - in its entirety live at 3rd & Lindsley here in Nashville.
Now, a quick update: Emsley has been sleeping through the night since she was six weeks old. I know, for the most part, that this has nothing to do with our skills as parents and more to do with the grace of God. But she has fallen into this thing where, no matter what time she goes to bed, she wakes up between 5:30 and 6:00am. I am a morning person, but it would be awfully fun to sleep until...I don't know...maybe 7am once in a while.
So Kami and I head into Nashville. The doors are to open at 9pm, with the show starting at 9:30pm. During soundcheck I immediately thought, "Hm. I should have brought ear plugs. This is too loud," which is the most obvious sign I'm getting old - more so than the creaky left knee or the nose hair that I have to beat back with a pair of rusted garden shears every other morning.
Of course the first act didn't come on until 10pm. The second act came on at 10:30pm (everyone does need to check out John Wesley Satterfield). And then Joe Firstman came on at 11pm...and played for two solid hours.
The concert was over at 1am and, after some dawdling after the show, we were home by 1:30am. Emsley - who has not awakened in the middle of the night in at least five months - had a meltdown at 11:30pm, further enraged by the fact that neither Kami and I were there when Katie brought her in to the living room. After an hour she fell back asleep, and of course Kami and I felt awful.
Off to bed we went at 2:15, hoping that the hour-long meltdown in the middle of the night might buy us an extra 45 minutes of sleep. But HAHA HAHAHAHAAAA. Emsley was up at 5:45.
I volunteered to stay up and feed her and play with her because, you know, I'm a sweetheart and also, a mountain stage in the Tour de France. I'm so Eurotrash. (I'm watching it now, instead of taking a nap).
We were able to go back to sleep - twice - yesterday, meaning that it took two naps to recover. Oh but we haven't recovered. Kami and I both feel like we got hit by a truck.
Today is Birthday Sunday at Otter Creek, as Thursday is her first birthday. Emsley woke up at - surprise - 5:45, had some formula (which we have been phasing out as she is eating a wide variety of things. Yesterday we debuted bacon, nitrate-free of course, and she looked at us as though to say, "Why has it taken this long for you to teach me about this wonderful meat?"), ate some yogurt and bananas, and is now asleep. I'll have pictures later.
Speaking of pictures:
Monday, November 12, 2012
Four month update
Hey! I remember you!
So yesterday was Emmy's four-month birthday, which she celebrated by sitting and watching the early soccer game with me. Kami walked in and I was sitting on the couch, feet crossed. Emsley was leaning back on me, watching the game, feet crossed. Then she showed her delight at the wonderful game of soccer by backheeling me square in the home fries. Emsley, not Kami.
Things are going great. We all survived October, which used to be our favorite month of the year (fall, MLB playoffs, football, etc.). Now it's just a month I try to get through without getting pneumonia - something I was unable to achieve in 2010 and 2011. I do ghost tours at The Hermitage, and they're a lot of fun, but it's also the second-busiest month of the year in terms of my regular job responsibilities. So there are a lot of 14- and 16-hour days in October. It was hard going a month without seeing Kami, but adding Emmy to the list of people I don't see was brutal - but it's worth it to pick up the extra vacation time.
Anyhow, while I was at work, Kami was a single mom. I'd leave most days by 7:30am, come back home about 5pm, take Gunther and Angus out, kiss Kami and Emsley, and go back to work for a 7:00pm tour, and get home about 9:30. But enough about me, eh?
Emsley's doing great. She had her four-month shots today. Shots don't go so well...for Kami. She can't watch. Emsley does fairly well. The first shots are like "Hey..." and then the second shots are like she goes "HEY!" and she cries for a little bit. It's worse for us because she really only cries when she's exhausted or is sitting in poo - but the nurses say she does great.
If you recall, Emsley was 9lbs 7ozs when she was born, which put her in the Gigantor percentile. She's now just over 14lbs, so her weight and her height has evened out. Also, the four-month mark means that we have been given the All Clear to start her on rice cereal. Off we went to the store to buy little bowls and little spoons and rice cereal. Well, of course we picked the all natural, not genetically modified (which, let's just remark on how hard it is to find things - for adults, as well - that aren't genetically modified. I'll take baseball players who are genetically modified, but not food, thank you very much.) rice cereal.
Emsley was fussy all day, sore from the shots, and tired from waking up super early because DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME IS RIDICULOUS. She still hasn't been able to get back on her overnight sleeping schedule since the anachronistic abomination went into effect last weekend. Emsley used to sleep until between 7:00-8:00am. Now we're lucky if she makes it past 6:00am. Benjamin Franklin owes us, owes us all, that hour back.
Anyhow, the first go at rice cereal didn't end up going so well. We put her in her Bumbo on the table - which I know you're not supposed to do, but it's not like we put her up there and then went out for a drink. I stood right next to her the whole time. We mixed up the cereal in her little purple bowl -
- Which, hang on, because this deserves a separate section. I am woefully lacking in basic math skills. You could make a decent argument that I am woefully lacking in basic logic - I once failed Basic Motor Skills in driver's ed six times because I couldn't figure out if the car on the page was my car, or the car in front of me. So the first few times I made Emmy's formula, it took me about 30 minutes to write the equation out. And by "equation" I mean "1 scoop of formula + 2 ounces of water = :-)" Now I know it by heart, but that basic conversion was like asking me to memorize the periodic table.
Anyhow, the instructions on the rice cereal box were very short, as if they planned on the dad preparing it to be able to understand instructions. (I might as well be the mouth-breather who goes about daily tasks watching other people to see if they look at me like I just threw up down my shirt, just to make sure I'm doing them right. I do this while I pay at the pump at the gas station. I wish I was kidding.) The instructions said, "Add one tablespoon of cereal to 3-4 tablespoons of formula. Add water to desired consistency." That was it. So I stood in the kitchen thinking:
1) I don't know how many tablespoons are in the scoop that comes in the formula can.
2) How do I figure that out?
3) What do I put it in once it's measured out?
4) How much water do I add?
5) What water consistency do I desire?
6) How many tablespoons are in an ounce?
*At this point, I pulled out garlic powder and set it next to the bowl. For what reason, I have no idea.*
7) What's the ratio of cereal to formula?
8) How much water do I add?
9) What do I put it in?
Ultimately, with Kami's help - and Kami has the patience of a saint - I figured it out. Kami knew how to do it all along, but NOBODY WAS HELPING ME ACCOMPLISH THIS TASK. I won't be able to replicate the results tomorrow, but I got it tonight.
Emsley liked it well enough. She didn't gobble down a bowl of genetically righteous gruel, but took a few bites and didn't Exorcist-Vomit it up. We chalked it up to not feeling well. And Benjamin Franklin.
So yesterday was Emmy's four-month birthday, which she celebrated by sitting and watching the early soccer game with me. Kami walked in and I was sitting on the couch, feet crossed. Emsley was leaning back on me, watching the game, feet crossed. Then she showed her delight at the wonderful game of soccer by backheeling me square in the home fries. Emsley, not Kami.
Things are going great. We all survived October, which used to be our favorite month of the year (fall, MLB playoffs, football, etc.). Now it's just a month I try to get through without getting pneumonia - something I was unable to achieve in 2010 and 2011. I do ghost tours at The Hermitage, and they're a lot of fun, but it's also the second-busiest month of the year in terms of my regular job responsibilities. So there are a lot of 14- and 16-hour days in October. It was hard going a month without seeing Kami, but adding Emmy to the list of people I don't see was brutal - but it's worth it to pick up the extra vacation time.
Anyhow, while I was at work, Kami was a single mom. I'd leave most days by 7:30am, come back home about 5pm, take Gunther and Angus out, kiss Kami and Emsley, and go back to work for a 7:00pm tour, and get home about 9:30. But enough about me, eh?
Emsley's doing great. She had her four-month shots today. Shots don't go so well...for Kami. She can't watch. Emsley does fairly well. The first shots are like "Hey..." and then the second shots are like she goes "HEY!" and she cries for a little bit. It's worse for us because she really only cries when she's exhausted or is sitting in poo - but the nurses say she does great.
If you recall, Emsley was 9lbs 7ozs when she was born, which put her in the Gigantor percentile. She's now just over 14lbs, so her weight and her height has evened out. Also, the four-month mark means that we have been given the All Clear to start her on rice cereal. Off we went to the store to buy little bowls and little spoons and rice cereal. Well, of course we picked the all natural, not genetically modified (which, let's just remark on how hard it is to find things - for adults, as well - that aren't genetically modified. I'll take baseball players who are genetically modified, but not food, thank you very much.) rice cereal.
Emsley was fussy all day, sore from the shots, and tired from waking up super early because DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME IS RIDICULOUS. She still hasn't been able to get back on her overnight sleeping schedule since the anachronistic abomination went into effect last weekend. Emsley used to sleep until between 7:00-8:00am. Now we're lucky if she makes it past 6:00am. Benjamin Franklin owes us, owes us all, that hour back.
Anyhow, the first go at rice cereal didn't end up going so well. We put her in her Bumbo on the table - which I know you're not supposed to do, but it's not like we put her up there and then went out for a drink. I stood right next to her the whole time. We mixed up the cereal in her little purple bowl -
- Which, hang on, because this deserves a separate section. I am woefully lacking in basic math skills. You could make a decent argument that I am woefully lacking in basic logic - I once failed Basic Motor Skills in driver's ed six times because I couldn't figure out if the car on the page was my car, or the car in front of me. So the first few times I made Emmy's formula, it took me about 30 minutes to write the equation out. And by "equation" I mean "1 scoop of formula + 2 ounces of water = :-)" Now I know it by heart, but that basic conversion was like asking me to memorize the periodic table.
Anyhow, the instructions on the rice cereal box were very short, as if they planned on the dad preparing it to be able to understand instructions. (I might as well be the mouth-breather who goes about daily tasks watching other people to see if they look at me like I just threw up down my shirt, just to make sure I'm doing them right. I do this while I pay at the pump at the gas station. I wish I was kidding.) The instructions said, "Add one tablespoon of cereal to 3-4 tablespoons of formula. Add water to desired consistency." That was it. So I stood in the kitchen thinking:
1) I don't know how many tablespoons are in the scoop that comes in the formula can.
2) How do I figure that out?
3) What do I put it in once it's measured out?
4) How much water do I add?
5) What water consistency do I desire?
6) How many tablespoons are in an ounce?
*At this point, I pulled out garlic powder and set it next to the bowl. For what reason, I have no idea.*
7) What's the ratio of cereal to formula?
8) How much water do I add?
9) What do I put it in?
Ultimately, with Kami's help - and Kami has the patience of a saint - I figured it out. Kami knew how to do it all along, but NOBODY WAS HELPING ME ACCOMPLISH THIS TASK. I won't be able to replicate the results tomorrow, but I got it tonight.
Emsley liked it well enough. She didn't gobble down a bowl of genetically righteous gruel, but took a few bites and didn't Exorcist-Vomit it up. We chalked it up to not feeling well. And Benjamin Franklin.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
To the guy at Wal-Mart
It's been a month since we last spoke, and I have missed you all. Things are rolling along here at Chez Yaskeaux, and Emsley is now three months old - which is just unbelievable.
Some things that have changed over the last month:
1) Car rides no longer go so well. We went to Oklahoma for Kami's uncle's wedding towards the end of September, and it was, um, a trial. Emmy does well for the first 4-5 hours, and then things start to get real. On the way back from Oklahoma, what should have been about an eight-hour trip turned into a 12-hour trip as we had to stop every 45 minutes from west of Little Rock back to Nashville.
It did not help matters that in Memphis - in the bright blue sky and sunshine - some semi driver decided it would be a good idea to run his rig into the guardrail and shut down I-40. And it did not help matters - or progress - that the Tennessee Department of Transportation decided it was an even better idea to shut I-40 down to one lane for "Construction," which was not taking place. So it took us an hour to go three miles, and the semi driver next to us was under no circumstances going to let me over so I could take exit to get a shortcut around all of it. Meanwhile, Emsley is screaming bloody murder, and there's not anything we can do about it. That was fun. We need to evaluate our Christmas plans.
2) Emmy much prefers sitting up now - which is extremely cute. Regard:
3) So the other day we were at Wal-Mart getting Halloween decorations, as it's Kami's favorite holiday of the year. Emmy was getting a little fussy in her car seat rolling in the cart, so I took her out and held her, which resulted in her falling asleep with her head on my chest. We were walking around and a guy in a flannel shirt (which is awfully vague for Wal-Mart, I realize) comes up to me and says, "Cherish these days. They grow up so fast."
If I had spoken one word, I would have lost it. Kami came up to me and asked what was wrong, and I just shook my head. But she's been trying to get me to express my emotions more - something at which I'm not exactly an All-Star - so she kept prodding. Through a cracked voice, I told her what King Douche had said. Then she started crying. I was able to hold back the tears.
Why? you might ask. Because, gentle readers, it is perfectly acceptable for a man to cry. It is decidedly unacceptable for a man to cry in the middle of the Wal-Mart in Hermitage, Tennessee.
4) Here are some more pictures:
5) As you can see, Emsley is looking more and more like Kami. Don't see it? Check this out:
The photos on the left column are Kami's baby pictures. The photos on the right are Emmy's pictures from the last couple of weeks.
Some things that have changed over the last month:
1) Car rides no longer go so well. We went to Oklahoma for Kami's uncle's wedding towards the end of September, and it was, um, a trial. Emmy does well for the first 4-5 hours, and then things start to get real. On the way back from Oklahoma, what should have been about an eight-hour trip turned into a 12-hour trip as we had to stop every 45 minutes from west of Little Rock back to Nashville.
It did not help matters that in Memphis - in the bright blue sky and sunshine - some semi driver decided it would be a good idea to run his rig into the guardrail and shut down I-40. And it did not help matters - or progress - that the Tennessee Department of Transportation decided it was an even better idea to shut I-40 down to one lane for "Construction," which was not taking place. So it took us an hour to go three miles, and the semi driver next to us was under no circumstances going to let me over so I could take exit to get a shortcut around all of it. Meanwhile, Emsley is screaming bloody murder, and there's not anything we can do about it. That was fun. We need to evaluate our Christmas plans.
2) Emmy much prefers sitting up now - which is extremely cute. Regard:
3) So the other day we were at Wal-Mart getting Halloween decorations, as it's Kami's favorite holiday of the year. Emmy was getting a little fussy in her car seat rolling in the cart, so I took her out and held her, which resulted in her falling asleep with her head on my chest. We were walking around and a guy in a flannel shirt (which is awfully vague for Wal-Mart, I realize) comes up to me and says, "Cherish these days. They grow up so fast."
If I had spoken one word, I would have lost it. Kami came up to me and asked what was wrong, and I just shook my head. But she's been trying to get me to express my emotions more - something at which I'm not exactly an All-Star - so she kept prodding. Through a cracked voice, I told her what King Douche had said. Then she started crying. I was able to hold back the tears.
Why? you might ask. Because, gentle readers, it is perfectly acceptable for a man to cry. It is decidedly unacceptable for a man to cry in the middle of the Wal-Mart in Hermitage, Tennessee.
4) Here are some more pictures:
5) As you can see, Emsley is looking more and more like Kami. Don't see it? Check this out:
Friday, September 14, 2012
We used to read a lot
If you were to ask me what my favorite things are, and said "Being a husband" and "Being a dad" were not allowed, I would tell you three things, in no particular order: Watching baseball, listening to music, and reading (Well, there's another thing. But I'm not going to list that one.)
Let's look at these in order:
Watching Baseball
I still get to do this, to an extent. As you likely know, I am (we are) a Houston Astros fan. One of two that I know in the greater Nashville area. They're so bad, and with moving to the American League West - what I believe is the toughest division in baseball - there was a guy on the radio in Nashville who was an Astros fan, but switched to the Cubs. Which is like deciding to not get burned by hot oil in favor of getting burned with hot wax.
ANYway. We determined that MLB.tv was an unnecessary expense this summer - and most likely an expense that would be left dormant, meaning that I wouldn't necessarily be able to watch the Astros. And since I take each and every one of the Astros' losses (and they are many) personally, it just wouldn't do.
So if there's a "good game" on television, we might watch a few innings. While I can certainly watch the Royals and Twins play a game in September - not that they would be on tv - I don't want to do that to Kami. We haven't watched much baseball this season.
Listening to Music
I do this quite a bit. We have Mog, which is incredible. I don't mind paying $5/month for unlimited streaming music, because I listen at work for 8-10 hours a day (and I have Residual Napster Guilt). This hasn't dropped off. And I can play Emsley our ten favorite albums, which are (and this is tough for me, because 4-10 change on a daily basis):
1) The Pernice Brothers, "Yours, Mine and Ours"
2) Elbow, "The Seldom Seen Kid"
3) U2, "Achtung Baby"
4) The Broken West, "I Can't Go On I'll Go On"
5) Will Hoge, "Blackbird on a Lonely Wire"
6) Gomez, "Bring It On"
7) Josh Rouse, "Nashville"
8) Radiohead, "OK Computer"
9) Wilco, "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot"
10) Rufus Wainwright, "Want One"
Honorable Mentions:
11) Danger Mouse, "The Grey Album" (I have White Love for Jay-Z. One of our biggest regrets is not going to see Jay-Z at Madison Square Garden when we lived in Cooperstown. It would have made for a miserable day at work, getting back to Coop at 5am, but ohsoworthit).
12) Mike Farris, "Salvation in Lights"
Reading
And this is where we stop. Because we're big readers. We absolutely love to read - (Myself? Mainly non-fiction, and the weirder the better.) Let's continue with the pattern of my favorites:
1) Truman Capote, "In Cold Blood"
2) Erik Larson, "Devil in the White City"
3) Jon Krakauer, "Into Thin Air"
4) Nick Hornby, "Fever Pitch" (not the bastardized Jimmy Fallon bullcrap)
5) James L. Swanson, "Manhunt"
Yeah, I like Fiction. Anything by James Lee Burke. The Count of Monte Cristo. But, I love Erik Larson like a brother. I want to be Erik Larson. Perhaps you've heard of him: Isaac's Storm, Thunderstruck, Devil in the White City. Larson takes huge historical events and finds intensely personal experiences that completely sum up that huge event. He writes deeply engaging histories, which is what I ultimately, desperately want to do (I also want to host a bizarre history travel show, for anyone who has any pull with that sort of thing).
The Nashville Library is set up where you can download Kindle Books to your tablet, and I have a crap tablet, which I use to read Cracked.com, check my work email, and read Kindle Books. I'd read a book a week, on average. Sometimes more, but whatever. Erik Larson recently wrote a book called In the Garden of Beasts, about the family of the American ambassador to Germany in 1933 (including his slutty daughter, but that's neither here nor there. Seriously, she banged her way across Berlin like a firecracker). It's fantastic. Yet, I've had to check it out three times, because I can't get through it. Why?
Because there's just not time. I'm pretty sure Kami reads for six minutes a day, now. I could read when I get home from work, but that's when I get Daddy/Emmy Time. I could read when she goes to bed, but that's when I get James/Kami Time ("Daddy/Kami" time sounds weird). So I have two options:
1) Read in the morning. This is an attractive option, but I need time to stretch out my bum right ankle and bum right knee, and I also need two cups of coffee to remember my name. Yet, reading about Nazis is a little heavy at 5am - and I don't want to carry that around when I get Daddy/Emmy Time, after she wakes up (around 6am).
2) Read at night. This is that I've been doing. There's what I call "Dark Mode," which is way more sinister than it sounds, with the white font on black background, and it works great, because Kami falls asleep immediately before waking up three hours later, and every 90 minutes after that to check on Emsley. I sleep like I have a head-trauma.
So I try to read at night. But after nine weeks of having this book, I'm only 27% of the way through it. I make sure that I fall asleep before I turn it off, so this morning I woke up at 12:45am with my head still on my hand - dead asleep, and freezing cold. With a neck cramp.
Get used to it. I'll be reading about Nazis in nine hours. Guaranteed.
Let's look at these in order:
Watching Baseball
I still get to do this, to an extent. As you likely know, I am (we are) a Houston Astros fan. One of two that I know in the greater Nashville area. They're so bad, and with moving to the American League West - what I believe is the toughest division in baseball - there was a guy on the radio in Nashville who was an Astros fan, but switched to the Cubs. Which is like deciding to not get burned by hot oil in favor of getting burned with hot wax.
ANYway. We determined that MLB.tv was an unnecessary expense this summer - and most likely an expense that would be left dormant, meaning that I wouldn't necessarily be able to watch the Astros. And since I take each and every one of the Astros' losses (and they are many) personally, it just wouldn't do.
So if there's a "good game" on television, we might watch a few innings. While I can certainly watch the Royals and Twins play a game in September - not that they would be on tv - I don't want to do that to Kami. We haven't watched much baseball this season.
Listening to Music
I do this quite a bit. We have Mog, which is incredible. I don't mind paying $5/month for unlimited streaming music, because I listen at work for 8-10 hours a day (and I have Residual Napster Guilt). This hasn't dropped off. And I can play Emsley our ten favorite albums, which are (and this is tough for me, because 4-10 change on a daily basis):
1) The Pernice Brothers, "Yours, Mine and Ours"
2) Elbow, "The Seldom Seen Kid"
3) U2, "Achtung Baby"
4) The Broken West, "I Can't Go On I'll Go On"
5) Will Hoge, "Blackbird on a Lonely Wire"
6) Gomez, "Bring It On"
7) Josh Rouse, "Nashville"
8) Radiohead, "OK Computer"
9) Wilco, "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot"
10) Rufus Wainwright, "Want One"
Honorable Mentions:
11) Danger Mouse, "The Grey Album" (I have White Love for Jay-Z. One of our biggest regrets is not going to see Jay-Z at Madison Square Garden when we lived in Cooperstown. It would have made for a miserable day at work, getting back to Coop at 5am, but ohsoworthit).
12) Mike Farris, "Salvation in Lights"
Reading
And this is where we stop. Because we're big readers. We absolutely love to read - (Myself? Mainly non-fiction, and the weirder the better.) Let's continue with the pattern of my favorites:
1) Truman Capote, "In Cold Blood"
2) Erik Larson, "Devil in the White City"
3) Jon Krakauer, "Into Thin Air"
4) Nick Hornby, "Fever Pitch" (not the bastardized Jimmy Fallon bullcrap)
5) James L. Swanson, "Manhunt"
Yeah, I like Fiction. Anything by James Lee Burke. The Count of Monte Cristo. But, I love Erik Larson like a brother. I want to be Erik Larson. Perhaps you've heard of him: Isaac's Storm, Thunderstruck, Devil in the White City. Larson takes huge historical events and finds intensely personal experiences that completely sum up that huge event. He writes deeply engaging histories, which is what I ultimately, desperately want to do (I also want to host a bizarre history travel show, for anyone who has any pull with that sort of thing).
The Nashville Library is set up where you can download Kindle Books to your tablet, and I have a crap tablet, which I use to read Cracked.com, check my work email, and read Kindle Books. I'd read a book a week, on average. Sometimes more, but whatever. Erik Larson recently wrote a book called In the Garden of Beasts, about the family of the American ambassador to Germany in 1933 (including his slutty daughter, but that's neither here nor there. Seriously, she banged her way across Berlin like a firecracker). It's fantastic. Yet, I've had to check it out three times, because I can't get through it. Why?
Because there's just not time. I'm pretty sure Kami reads for six minutes a day, now. I could read when I get home from work, but that's when I get Daddy/Emmy Time. I could read when she goes to bed, but that's when I get James/Kami Time ("Daddy/Kami" time sounds weird). So I have two options:
1) Read in the morning. This is an attractive option, but I need time to stretch out my bum right ankle and bum right knee, and I also need two cups of coffee to remember my name. Yet, reading about Nazis is a little heavy at 5am - and I don't want to carry that around when I get Daddy/Emmy Time, after she wakes up (around 6am).
2) Read at night. This is that I've been doing. There's what I call "Dark Mode," which is way more sinister than it sounds, with the white font on black background, and it works great, because Kami falls asleep immediately before waking up three hours later, and every 90 minutes after that to check on Emsley. I sleep like I have a head-trauma.
So I try to read at night. But after nine weeks of having this book, I'm only 27% of the way through it. I make sure that I fall asleep before I turn it off, so this morning I woke up at 12:45am with my head still on my hand - dead asleep, and freezing cold. With a neck cramp.
Get used to it. I'll be reading about Nazis in nine hours. Guaranteed.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Two month review: The least-helpful things people will say when you're pregnant
And so tomorrow Emsley will be, unbelievably, two months old. It's quite hard to believe. I've remarked that Kami and I have been together for almost ten years, and it's the longest we've ever been with someone on a regular basis that we haven't wanted to bite their noses. I've held Emsley every day for hours at a time for two months now. I've had spit-up ("throat milk," as I disgustingly call it) in my beard, poo on my forearm like I'm wearing elbow gloves, and I still go over the speed limit to try to get home as quick as I can to see my girls.
It feels like this whole process started last week, when in fact we've been preparing for Emsley for almost a year now (well, we've been preparing to be parents since the day we got married, but you know what I mean). A lot of people gave us advice - most of it good advice. Still, there were some things we heard that were just not helpful in the slightest. For instance:
"You have no idea the amount of pain you're going to be in"
Multiple people actually offered this little nugget. Of course, they were all referring to Kami - you know how many craps people give about how the dad feels? Zero craps. You know, if I walk around in the middle of the night, there's an 80% chance I'm going to hit something with the side of my knee. The certainty somehow makes it worse - as if I'm trying to be careful, but just can't keep from hurting myself. Glancing the corner of a chair with the outside of your ankle hurts, but it hurts even more when you're moderately sure it's actually going to happen.
Kami has a Spanish Inquisition-level of tolerance for pain. Kami was never under any sort of impression that she'd be able to make it to the YMCA for a spinning class two hours after giving birth. Still, I'm reminded of a line from Friends, where they say, "Is that your nostril? Pardon me while I push a pot roast through it." (Or something along those lines). You know who goes into labor thinking, "I bet this will be a breeze,"? NOBODY.
But the ends justify the means. Yes, it'll be painful, but there will be a beautiful little baby girl at the end of it. Like sliding down a rainbow to a pot of gold, if the rainbow is labor and contractions. But the fact that someone thought it would be ohsohelpful to go out of their way to say, "However much you think you're going to hurt - you might as well slap yourself in the nose with a hammer, because your tiny little squirrel brain can't fathom the pain you're going to feel." It's also incredibly self-serving, as though there's a club at the airport where the preferred guests get to slide a card and have access to orange juice and massages and teddy bears - and Kami just isn't going to be able to get in.
You don't tell someone, "You have no idea the amount of pain you're going to be in," without adding a little, "But I do NANNY NANNY BOO BOO" at the end. I hope they find a dead cockroach in their underwear. At the end of the day.
"You're going to be so tired."
Do I enjoy getting up for 60-90 minutes in the middle of the night for no reason? Absolutely not. I prefer to go to sleep, snap my fingers, and it be 5:30am (which isn't too far from what actually happens). But Emsley is not "no reason." Was I tired in the first few weeks of Emmy's life? Of course. If you're not tired in the first few weeks of having a child, then you need to help more - and I'll tell you that now so your wife doesn't have to, because that will be a shrill, one-sided conversation. And "conversation" indicates that there are two people talking - there won't be. You'll just stand there, holding a bottle, wishing you could somehow crawl into it.
I've talked before about sleep, and not sleeping, when having a baby. But the fact is, you'll be up in the middle of the night. It's just how it goes. But what the heck else are you supposed to do? It's not like your brother-in-law is in the other room crying to wake you up so you can bring him a sandwich. It's not as though you have to help a guy move in the middle of the night. As exhausted as we were the next day, there was something special about those 3am feedings. I'd sit with the tv off (because there is nothing worth watching at 3am - and you can only watch "Quick Pitch" on the MLB Network so many times) and just watch her eat. I'd rather not look back at these early days and say, "I don't really know what happened those first few months, because I couldn't drag my rear end out of bed, but at least I am rested." Of course we're going to be tired.
"Your life is going to change so much."
You mean that the part of our life where only our dogs were dependent on us, and we could run off to a concert, or to Atlanta for the weekend, any time we wanted? That's different now? You. Don't. Say.
Introducing a baby, whom - by the grace of God - we were able to create together has changed our lives, yes. But it has not changed in ways that we could not foresee. We knew we'd stay home more. We knew we'd probably not watch the rest of Band of Brothers while she is awake. We'd take it easy on horror movie binges. We knew we'd, yes, be tired.
Perhaps the only thing I wasn't expecting was how much I could love something that weighs ten pounds. I wasn't expecting how much deeper my love for Kami would grow with Emmy's addition (I didn't know that my love for her could grow deeper). So if that's what they meant, then, okay. I can see that. But no point have I thought, "This kid is great, but I really had my heart set on going to see Josh Rouse..."
So the next time you talk to someone who is pregnant, and their significant other, just remember this list. What should you say? Stay tuned...
It feels like this whole process started last week, when in fact we've been preparing for Emsley for almost a year now (well, we've been preparing to be parents since the day we got married, but you know what I mean). A lot of people gave us advice - most of it good advice. Still, there were some things we heard that were just not helpful in the slightest. For instance:
"You have no idea the amount of pain you're going to be in"
Multiple people actually offered this little nugget. Of course, they were all referring to Kami - you know how many craps people give about how the dad feels? Zero craps. You know, if I walk around in the middle of the night, there's an 80% chance I'm going to hit something with the side of my knee. The certainty somehow makes it worse - as if I'm trying to be careful, but just can't keep from hurting myself. Glancing the corner of a chair with the outside of your ankle hurts, but it hurts even more when you're moderately sure it's actually going to happen.
Kami has a Spanish Inquisition-level of tolerance for pain. Kami was never under any sort of impression that she'd be able to make it to the YMCA for a spinning class two hours after giving birth. Still, I'm reminded of a line from Friends, where they say, "Is that your nostril? Pardon me while I push a pot roast through it." (Or something along those lines). You know who goes into labor thinking, "I bet this will be a breeze,"? NOBODY.
But the ends justify the means. Yes, it'll be painful, but there will be a beautiful little baby girl at the end of it. Like sliding down a rainbow to a pot of gold, if the rainbow is labor and contractions. But the fact that someone thought it would be ohsohelpful to go out of their way to say, "However much you think you're going to hurt - you might as well slap yourself in the nose with a hammer, because your tiny little squirrel brain can't fathom the pain you're going to feel." It's also incredibly self-serving, as though there's a club at the airport where the preferred guests get to slide a card and have access to orange juice and massages and teddy bears - and Kami just isn't going to be able to get in.
You don't tell someone, "You have no idea the amount of pain you're going to be in," without adding a little, "But I do NANNY NANNY BOO BOO" at the end. I hope they find a dead cockroach in their underwear. At the end of the day.
"You're going to be so tired."
Do I enjoy getting up for 60-90 minutes in the middle of the night for no reason? Absolutely not. I prefer to go to sleep, snap my fingers, and it be 5:30am (which isn't too far from what actually happens). But Emsley is not "no reason." Was I tired in the first few weeks of Emmy's life? Of course. If you're not tired in the first few weeks of having a child, then you need to help more - and I'll tell you that now so your wife doesn't have to, because that will be a shrill, one-sided conversation. And "conversation" indicates that there are two people talking - there won't be. You'll just stand there, holding a bottle, wishing you could somehow crawl into it.
I've talked before about sleep, and not sleeping, when having a baby. But the fact is, you'll be up in the middle of the night. It's just how it goes. But what the heck else are you supposed to do? It's not like your brother-in-law is in the other room crying to wake you up so you can bring him a sandwich. It's not as though you have to help a guy move in the middle of the night. As exhausted as we were the next day, there was something special about those 3am feedings. I'd sit with the tv off (because there is nothing worth watching at 3am - and you can only watch "Quick Pitch" on the MLB Network so many times) and just watch her eat. I'd rather not look back at these early days and say, "I don't really know what happened those first few months, because I couldn't drag my rear end out of bed, but at least I am rested." Of course we're going to be tired.
"Your life is going to change so much."
You mean that the part of our life where only our dogs were dependent on us, and we could run off to a concert, or to Atlanta for the weekend, any time we wanted? That's different now? You. Don't. Say.
Introducing a baby, whom - by the grace of God - we were able to create together has changed our lives, yes. But it has not changed in ways that we could not foresee. We knew we'd stay home more. We knew we'd probably not watch the rest of Band of Brothers while she is awake. We'd take it easy on horror movie binges. We knew we'd, yes, be tired.
Perhaps the only thing I wasn't expecting was how much I could love something that weighs ten pounds. I wasn't expecting how much deeper my love for Kami would grow with Emmy's addition (I didn't know that my love for her could grow deeper). So if that's what they meant, then, okay. I can see that. But no point have I thought, "This kid is great, but I really had my heart set on going to see Josh Rouse..."
So the next time you talk to someone who is pregnant, and their significant other, just remember this list. What should you say? Stay tuned...
Monday, August 27, 2012
Traveling With Emsley
So this weekend we embarked on our first Great Journey with Emsley.
It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Kami's grandfather is not doing
well - at all. So we needed to go to Duncan, Oklahoma (about an hour
south-southwest of Oklahoma City) to visit.
We decided to rent a car. Our Santa Fe, whom I am now calling "Jondiss," has 115,000 miles on it. And we're driving on borrowed time regarding the timing belt. And I'll be crunked if I'm going to need a new timing belt in the Middle of Nowhere, AR at the end of August with a 6-week old and a dainty wife in the car.
So we rented a car. A Chevy Cruze, in which they sacrificed common comfort for gas mileage. Here's the conversation I had with the rental car lady at 7:10am on Friday, before going to work for four hours:
Rental Car Lady: "Where are you headed?"
Me: "Oklahoma."
Rental Car Lady: (Checks my license) "Do you still live in Hermitage?"
Me: "Yes, ma'am."
Rental Car Lady: "Do you need a map of Nashville?"
Me: "No, ma'am."
Rental Car Lady: "Why not?"
Me: "Because, as I said, I live here. And I'm going to Oklahoma."
Off we went, about noon. Given that we were going to need to stop every few hours for Emsley (and mommy and daddy) to stretch, eat, burp, hold her butt up in the air so I could change her diaper, and get back on the road.
In Plumerville, Arkansas, we stopped so Emsley could eat. Plumerville, Arkansas, if you didn't know, is in 1963. A gentlemen in a Jewish Games t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts (he was a goatee away from a George Michael tribute show) told us how it cost him $500 to have three teeth removed - which means he was three under par among people in Arkansas (HEY-O). He had seven kids, and nine grandchildren. We know this, because he told us, unsolicited. (There was also a four-year old girl, who waited outside while her mother loaded up an armful of beef jerky. Seriously we couldn't have been in Arkansas more. The girl said she was dirty. When Kami asked why, she replied, "Cuz I rolled around in dirt!" And this is the state boasting the allegedly fourth-best college football team in the country.)
On Friday night, our options were as such: Drive until 2am to Duncan, or stop in Sallisaw with Kami's uncle at 10pm. We voted for the 10pm option, and stayed the night. Kami slept about an hour and a half. Why? We don't have a Pack 'N' Play, so Emsley slept in the bed while Kami obsessed over the remote possibility of rolling over on her. (Of course, she would never do such a thing. I, however...) I slept in a different bed, and don't remember anything about that night.
We left Sallisaw at 6am Saturday morning. And what do you know? Guess who forgot the diapers? We had to stop at a Wal-Mart in Shawnee, Oklahoma to get more - delaying us further. Ultimately, we made it to Duncan at about 11am Saturday.
It was a great visit. Everybody from the family was there, and it was truly a celebration of life, with Kami's grandparents, five kids, eight grandkids, five great-grandkids in attendance. I took a nap.
There was a period of time where we thought Kami might stay in Texas for the week. Kami's brother and his wife are planning on driving to Nashville with Harper, Emsley's six-month old cousin, for Labor Day weekend. So, for long enough that I completely unloaded the car, Kami and Emsley were going to stay in Texas and hang out while she didn't have to work. But then, with the realization that Kami's parents have the first week of school starting today (Monday), and the possibility that we would be faced with a last-minute plane ticket from Dallas to Nashville should they not be able - for whatever reason - to make the trip, she decided to come back with me.
As an aside, the best pancake syrup - ever - is Griffin's. It's only sold in Oklahoma, presumably because the don't like money. Or "Market Share." So I went to Goodner's Grocery Story in Duncan to buy a bottle of Griffin's. If I may, I dubbed the Goodner's as the Most Depressing Place on Earth. If you move the frozen boxes of fish sticks on the sixth of eight aisles, you may very well find a portal to hell. The most premium alcohol sold at Goodner's is Smirnoff Ice.
Sunday morning, 21 hours after we arrived, we got in the car to drive off, back to Nashville. I thought I knew what lay ahead - Google Maps said it was 12.5 hours from Duncan to Nashville. That's preposterous, and we knew it. I know for a fact that there are two Starbucks off the interstate in between Oklahoma City and Nashville. The first is in Oklahoma City, just off of I-240. The other is in Conway, Arkansas. At Oklahoma City, I had to go to the bathroom. Kami and Emsley were asleep. We still had about 13 hours in front of us, and I could use 20 ozs of coffee. I thought I was in the clear.
I was wrong.
In the four minutes it took me to get a coffee and go to the bathroom, Emsley woke up and got fussy. "Nuclear" would appropriately describe Kami's reaction to my actions. The combination of the timing of the stop - a mere 90 minutes after we left, Kami being in the middle of a very emotional weekend, a combined five hours of sleep over the previous two days, and my douchiness were the detonators.
An hour later, after Emsley had eaten, and had a diaper change, we were off. Some jacknut trucker had driven his transport truck into a guardrail, and I-40 east of OKC to one lane. We stopped off again in Sallisaw to show off Emsley to Kami's other set of grandparents, and spent two hours there. There was a six-mile stretch in Arkansas where Emsley simply couldn't get enough to eat, so we stopped at two McDonald's to feed her. Oh yes, and 22 mosquitoes found their way into the car when I opened the door - eight of which bit me on my toe knuckles. There's nothing acceptable about Arkansas.
When I got the rental car, I pre-paid the last tank of gas, which they were offering at $3.15/gallon. Considering that the cheapest we paid the whole trip was $3.49/gallon, that was a good call. It also means that I was very interested in letting the car run out of gas as I pulled up to the drop-off. So in an effort to keep Emsley asleep (with Kami next to her in the back seat), I didn't stop from west of Memphis all the way to Nashville. This stretch of highway is the pit of hell. Thanks to barbeque sunflower seeds and MLB Network Radio, and seven hours of sleep the night before (because Emsley slept through the night), we made it back home at 12:52am - 16 hours after we left. And the alarm went off at 5:50 this morning. I returned the car with 8 miles left in the tank.
The final tally: 1600 miles in 61 hours with a six-week old. That's 26 miles per hour, even while we were stopped, visiting, and sleeping. And I got fussier than Emsley did - she was an absolute angel. It was a quick trip, but a necessary one. Emsley may not remember the weekend we spent with Poppy, but we all will.
We decided to rent a car. Our Santa Fe, whom I am now calling "Jondiss," has 115,000 miles on it. And we're driving on borrowed time regarding the timing belt. And I'll be crunked if I'm going to need a new timing belt in the Middle of Nowhere, AR at the end of August with a 6-week old and a dainty wife in the car.
So we rented a car. A Chevy Cruze, in which they sacrificed common comfort for gas mileage. Here's the conversation I had with the rental car lady at 7:10am on Friday, before going to work for four hours:
Rental Car Lady: "Where are you headed?"
Me: "Oklahoma."
Rental Car Lady: (Checks my license) "Do you still live in Hermitage?"
Me: "Yes, ma'am."
Rental Car Lady: "Do you need a map of Nashville?"
Me: "No, ma'am."
Rental Car Lady: "Why not?"
Me: "Because, as I said, I live here. And I'm going to Oklahoma."
Off we went, about noon. Given that we were going to need to stop every few hours for Emsley (and mommy and daddy) to stretch, eat, burp, hold her butt up in the air so I could change her diaper, and get back on the road.
In Plumerville, Arkansas, we stopped so Emsley could eat. Plumerville, Arkansas, if you didn't know, is in 1963. A gentlemen in a Jewish Games t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts (he was a goatee away from a George Michael tribute show) told us how it cost him $500 to have three teeth removed - which means he was three under par among people in Arkansas (HEY-O). He had seven kids, and nine grandchildren. We know this, because he told us, unsolicited. (There was also a four-year old girl, who waited outside while her mother loaded up an armful of beef jerky. Seriously we couldn't have been in Arkansas more. The girl said she was dirty. When Kami asked why, she replied, "Cuz I rolled around in dirt!" And this is the state boasting the allegedly fourth-best college football team in the country.)
On Friday night, our options were as such: Drive until 2am to Duncan, or stop in Sallisaw with Kami's uncle at 10pm. We voted for the 10pm option, and stayed the night. Kami slept about an hour and a half. Why? We don't have a Pack 'N' Play, so Emsley slept in the bed while Kami obsessed over the remote possibility of rolling over on her. (Of course, she would never do such a thing. I, however...) I slept in a different bed, and don't remember anything about that night.
We left Sallisaw at 6am Saturday morning. And what do you know? Guess who forgot the diapers? We had to stop at a Wal-Mart in Shawnee, Oklahoma to get more - delaying us further. Ultimately, we made it to Duncan at about 11am Saturday.
It was a great visit. Everybody from the family was there, and it was truly a celebration of life, with Kami's grandparents, five kids, eight grandkids, five great-grandkids in attendance. I took a nap.
There was a period of time where we thought Kami might stay in Texas for the week. Kami's brother and his wife are planning on driving to Nashville with Harper, Emsley's six-month old cousin, for Labor Day weekend. So, for long enough that I completely unloaded the car, Kami and Emsley were going to stay in Texas and hang out while she didn't have to work. But then, with the realization that Kami's parents have the first week of school starting today (Monday), and the possibility that we would be faced with a last-minute plane ticket from Dallas to Nashville should they not be able - for whatever reason - to make the trip, she decided to come back with me.
As an aside, the best pancake syrup - ever - is Griffin's. It's only sold in Oklahoma, presumably because the don't like money. Or "Market Share." So I went to Goodner's Grocery Story in Duncan to buy a bottle of Griffin's. If I may, I dubbed the Goodner's as the Most Depressing Place on Earth. If you move the frozen boxes of fish sticks on the sixth of eight aisles, you may very well find a portal to hell. The most premium alcohol sold at Goodner's is Smirnoff Ice.
Sunday morning, 21 hours after we arrived, we got in the car to drive off, back to Nashville. I thought I knew what lay ahead - Google Maps said it was 12.5 hours from Duncan to Nashville. That's preposterous, and we knew it. I know for a fact that there are two Starbucks off the interstate in between Oklahoma City and Nashville. The first is in Oklahoma City, just off of I-240. The other is in Conway, Arkansas. At Oklahoma City, I had to go to the bathroom. Kami and Emsley were asleep. We still had about 13 hours in front of us, and I could use 20 ozs of coffee. I thought I was in the clear.
I was wrong.
In the four minutes it took me to get a coffee and go to the bathroom, Emsley woke up and got fussy. "Nuclear" would appropriately describe Kami's reaction to my actions. The combination of the timing of the stop - a mere 90 minutes after we left, Kami being in the middle of a very emotional weekend, a combined five hours of sleep over the previous two days, and my douchiness were the detonators.
An hour later, after Emsley had eaten, and had a diaper change, we were off. Some jacknut trucker had driven his transport truck into a guardrail, and I-40 east of OKC to one lane. We stopped off again in Sallisaw to show off Emsley to Kami's other set of grandparents, and spent two hours there. There was a six-mile stretch in Arkansas where Emsley simply couldn't get enough to eat, so we stopped at two McDonald's to feed her. Oh yes, and 22 mosquitoes found their way into the car when I opened the door - eight of which bit me on my toe knuckles. There's nothing acceptable about Arkansas.
When I got the rental car, I pre-paid the last tank of gas, which they were offering at $3.15/gallon. Considering that the cheapest we paid the whole trip was $3.49/gallon, that was a good call. It also means that I was very interested in letting the car run out of gas as I pulled up to the drop-off. So in an effort to keep Emsley asleep (with Kami next to her in the back seat), I didn't stop from west of Memphis all the way to Nashville. This stretch of highway is the pit of hell. Thanks to barbeque sunflower seeds and MLB Network Radio, and seven hours of sleep the night before (because Emsley slept through the night), we made it back home at 12:52am - 16 hours after we left. And the alarm went off at 5:50 this morning. I returned the car with 8 miles left in the tank.
The final tally: 1600 miles in 61 hours with a six-week old. That's 26 miles per hour, even while we were stopped, visiting, and sleeping. And I got fussier than Emsley did - she was an absolute angel. It was a quick trip, but a necessary one. Emsley may not remember the weekend we spent with Poppy, but we all will.
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