Photo Backlog Catch Up

Continuing on with the recent barrage of photos...not that you mind, right?

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Giving the Young One the pre-immunization shot pep talk. He performed like a champ, but let's give it a few more sessions before breaking out the champagne.

Captain Young aboard the HMS Stroller. Ahoy, babies.

Photographic proof that Mama K and I still go out and do the social thing, even if it's only once a week. I love you Russell Street BBQ, you provide the stamina to keep us going as parents.

The Move from the apartment to our new home unhinged us all, including Aunt T, who is now living with us. The only one who escaped unscathed from all the swirling madness was Young Old, who nonchalantly went with the flow, happy to just be.

Air guitar on a power strip? What the fuck?!

Retarded Ozarkian methmetal face? Hhhhwhat?!

Impish goblinoid grimace? Hrrrrrmulpianpodblop?!
Young Old, calm and collect. He managed, through sheer force his of unconditional love, to hold our collective sanity together.
Thanks, little man.

I'm Tired So You Get Pictures Vol. 13

Young Old teaching Auntie Ren how to read Dr. Seuss via grunts, farts, and burps.

My little man absolutely L-O-V-E-S this bubble machine, often occupying his usually 5-second attention span for up to an hour at a time, the cheeeezy synthetic music likely turning his brain to a mushy gruel. Daddy's gotta take a shower sometimes, though.

I know it's cute and all, but I've got to have a talk with Young Old sooner than later about that fist clutch. In a fight, that thumb will straight break, son.

Young Old the Politico, attentively listening to the election night results.

Here's a sight commonly seen, as any of his visitors can attest to. It doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest...

...however, the burp rags just don't cut it anymore for soaking up his stomach contents, forcing us to take more drastic measures:

Bononna Visits Young

Young Old's Grandmother Bononna rolled into town a couple of weeks back to drop off his Aunt T, who'll be staying with us through the end of the year, giving Portland a test drive to see if she wants to permanently make the move north from Cali. Can we say live in babysitter? Sweet.

Here are a few pictures of Grandma B and her Young Grandson. We miss you already, Ma.

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Young Old moments before tee off.


Three generations of increasingly diluted Hungarian blood...

The Boy and his Bottle. We didn't have to lift a finger the entire time Bononna was in town...shitty diaper? "I'll change it!" Empty belly? "I'll warm the bottle up!" Projectile belly juice? "Let me clean that up!" Thanks, Mom.

Bononna providing entertainment at the well-baby visit. The official report? He's well.

I know, Ma. It's the coolest kid suit around. What started out as a one-time costume for Dia De Los Muertos has since turned into his near-daily vomit catcher.

We can't wait for your next visit after Christmas! Love you.

Young Old, The Movie V

At her most recent visit, Auntie Ren broke out the Pattycake moves for Young Old. Watch and learn...

We're Baaaaaack!

Apparently we now live in Outer Mongolia or some such culture-less backwater, as our local phone company informed us it doesn't have these here parts of town wired for high-speed Internet, and hell no were we about to devolve into dial-up territory. Thankfully, cable Internet was still an option, albeit a very expensive one. Regardless, we are back up and running, and I'll henceforth attempt to get back into the groove of posting every day from here on out. Except Sundays. Those are mine to sit in front of our blazing fireplace and read endless pages of trashy science fiction to Young Old, as I'm hoping to cultivate a dorkiness in him that's at least on par with my own.

Aaaanyway.

I've got about 5,001 pictures saved up from the last three weeks or so to share with you, so let's cut the bullshit and proceed with the cutesy imagery.

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The Fam cold chillin' outside the new pad after our first home inspection. Young Old is clearly already sold on the place.

Mama K steady working on getting Young Old hooked on the Black Gold's aroma at Costello's Travel Cafe.

Our good friend Liza getting in some Young love.

Young Old has been rapidly putting on the pounds (ounces?) these last few weeks. Seen here showing off his lizard belly and cottage cheese laden-buns. We're so proud of the little guy.

I'd say this about sums up the difficulty level of this parenting thing. Yep, crashing out for a nap, managing to remove a single sock only...

Frustrations and Limitations

Well, we're homeowners.

The past four days have been a chaotic whirlwind of stress, anxiety, and physical exhaustion, but we've finally moved into our new home where Young Old will get to spend his early years learning how to throw rocks at cars and smear mud on our neighbor's door handles. Many apologies for the lack of updates in the life of The Boy, but we're currently without Internet access at the house, driving us to hit up the good old pubic library system for a quick post or two until things are up and running on the home front. Unfortunately, such posts will likely be sporadic, if not nonexistent, for at least another week, at which point I'll hopefully be able to resume revealing the cuteness that is Young Old.

Until then, love to you all, and the little guy gives a gurgle gut belch "Hi." Hope we don't lose to many of you in the meantime.

Thursdays with Green and Syd

To better maintain our friendship, my homie Green and I decided to set aside a few Thursday nights each month where we'd eat dinner at one another's homes, accompanied by our significant others. I, however, think that Green and his fiance Syd Vicious have ulterior motives, mainly, that it's a good excuse to visit with Young Old. After the initial "Hi, how's life?" conversation, the night begins to center itself around giggling and cooing at the Young One, while Mama K hangs out in the kitchen, and I occupy myself with hanging tattered GZA posters in their bathroom, or slipping Michael Jordan voodoo dolls into the waiting arms of their Sergio Rodriguez gypsy doll. It's all good fun, though, and it's nice to see Young Old's Uncle Green taking an interest in him, wanting to be involved and all that goodie good stuff. And when they can tear themselves away from our cute tyke, we actually get around to a nice adult conversation, which is a vast improvement over Young Old and I's typical banter during our days together:

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewww."
"Really, that's interesting."
"Ack!!!"
"You don't say? I seem to recall someone telling me that a few years back." *GRUNTING*
"Then again, I could be wrong."
*CRYING*
"Ummmmm, is it my breath?"
*CRYING*
"Okay...leeet's see. Pheeeeeeeeeeewwwww. Buuuuurrrrrrrp. Gobbledygoooooooooooo." *CRYING STOPS*
"Ack. Cooooooooooooooooo."
"Spleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Cacacacacacacacacacacaca."
*GIGGLING*
Repeat for hours upon end.

So yeah, thanks Green and Syd for helping a friend remember how to use the human language, and being forgiving if I slip in a grunt or monosyllabic vowel hum here and there. A few photos from our last Thursday ritual:

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Already shaping up to be a fine role model, Uncle Green.
Uncle Green and Aunt Syd, meet Young Vomit.

I'm Tired So You Get Pictures Vol. 12

Just closed on our new house today, and hell no do I feel like writing. We're poppin' the bubbly, suckas.

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Mama K doing her beauty thing with Young Old at Stanich's in the N.E.P.

Uncle Green pouching Young Old around the neighborhood.

Young Old has been really digging sitting up lately, mostly so he can watch Mama K and I frantically packing up the apartment. Unfortunately, he doesn't even attempt to lift a finger to help out. I see how it is, dude.
Yo Papa Old, puff puff pass that shit.

Young Old's favorite spot to drift back to sleep after his 7:30am bottle.
Mama K, multitasker extraordinaire.

Awake Like an Owl at a Quarter to Three

Whooooo. [Please excuse this little-known Dre Dog reference. -Ed.]

A few nights back, Young Old decided to switch things up a bit, waking up around 3am and refusing to go back to sleep. Night owl that I am, I was still up, and, as expected, was assigned to baby duty. Earlier in the evening he had fallen asleep in that day's outfit (one of many outfits worn, but the one that had received only a minimal splattering of regurgitated mommy-milk), and I just thought he looked so cute sitting there on the couch in his gently-used argyle sweater. So we worked on his seizure-immunity through repeated exposure to camera flashes...enjoy the results.

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Not every picture of Young Old showcases his beauty. He sure can be a ugly critter when he wants to be. I still love you, Little One. That's more like it. Obviously, he's still learning how to sit up. Okay, I think I've had enough, Papa Old. Frisco the Cat is still wondering what the fuck we dragged into the house. Okay, Dad. Now I'm ready for bed.
Crane your necks please.

Young Old, The Movie IV

This kid is off the chain, crazy cute, right?



Mama K, we done good.

Stay At Home Dad Anthem

This about sums it up.



Thanks, Jon Lajoie. You Canadians are so much more funny than us Americans.

Onesie Fashion Show

Young Old has been expanding at an alarming rate, recently growing out of his entire wardrobe of leotards, I mean, onsies. Cruel parents that we are, we forced him into each of our favorite shirts one last time for a photo shoot featured in this month's copy of Baby GQ. The photographer recently emailed us the choicest shots, which I thought I'd share with you.

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One of my favorite photographs of Young Old.

Our little blueberry.

We've been trying to buy a lot of locally-made clothing from independent artists for the little tyke. Really the prices are pretty similar to anything you'd buy at those ungodly corporate soul sucking big boxers like Target and Babies R Us. I'll stick with the underdogs thanks. Plus their clothes are much iller.

Young Old's Portland Rain Shirt. Scrawled across the ribs: "I heart rain." [I hate rain. -Ed.]

Same shirt from the back, continues: "It makes the green grass grow." It's a shame he was only able to wear it for a month or so. Please excuse the leggings. An ill-though out method of keeping him warm. They haven't so much as touched his thigh chunks since this photo was taken a few weeks back.

Obama Wins...

...and Young Old says "!Si, se puede! Just as soon as I finish my nap, thank you."

Mama K and I had originally planned on having a friend over to babysit the young one, freeing us up to go out into the streets to celebrate, pop bubbly, and storm the Republican HQ. Instead we decided to spend this historic night together with our son, knowing full well that he'll likely have no idea who Obama is or was by the time he becomes politically cognizant. All the same, it felt wrong not to celebrate as a family, to share this moment in time where hope conquers fear, and unity overcomes deep-seated divisions.

This nation has high expectations, Barack, and for Young Old's sake, I hope you can live up to them. Change the world, Mr. President.

La Calaca En La Casa

Viejo de Joven dice "!Feliz Dia de los Muertos!"



So far, this outfit is definitely my favorite find resulting from my weekly digging through the second-hand baby stores around town...it reminds me of the Halloween costume the bad guys wore in The Karate Kid. I only hope that one day Young Old grows up to whup Ralph Macchio's ass, too. Sudoken-HAI!!!