Message to Mama K's Nipples: Watch Out!!!

Freeing our minds from the constant nagging worry of Young Old's in utero exposure to vast quantities of radiation while Mama K slaved away in the Chernobyl wastes, and saving himself from a lifetime of dentures, Young Old this morning decided to finally get the show on the road, breaking a tooth through his bottom gum. I guess that explains the flu-like symptoms, the week of sleepless nights, and the quantity of saliva only exhibited by blood hounds and mental ward patients. 

Bravo, O' Toothed Son, bravo.

Pictures to follow once he allows us access to his mouth, which might be a few months.

Cali Travels v.1

[Well, people, I had all these great blog ideas to share with you, but unfortunately, Port Alexander's "upgraded" Internet system effectively functions at the speed of a 14k modem (remember those?)...well, to be fair, it's more like a 56k modem. Pictures take close to fifteen minutes each to upload...when the system is working at top capacity. When it's not, even text-blogging is simply out of the question. I'm thinking you'll be lucky to get any more than this single post while we're up here. The wilds of Alaska, indeed.-Ed.]

A few weeks back, our little family traveled south to our old stomping grounds in Northern California, in and around San Francisco, to attend and participate in a slew of weddings. It was Young Old's first visit to Cali, and we took him on a whirlwind tour of all the places that had become important to us (my hometown, where we met in college, The City, etc.). It was a great adventure, though we barely had a moment to breath while bouncing around from one event to the next (which is why, slow Internet included, Alaska is a great place to be right now..but more on that later, of course).

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Young Old had a wonderful time hanging out at GrandPops' house in Crescent City. One of the mornings we were there, my father saw that Young Old had woken up quite early and recognizing our need for another hour of sleep, he grabbed The Boy and they spent some quality time together. A precious moment, if I've ever seen one.

Easily my favorite picture of Young Old and his GrandPops. I've a feeling these two are going to become true and great friends over the next few years. 

Young Old getting a hug from our good friend Luci-Dog while waiting for a table at Renata's Creperie in downtown Arcata, where Mama K and I fell in love while attending Humboldt State University, big dirty hippies that we are. Great seeing you, Luc.

Young Old, straight loungin' at The Thirsty Bear in San Francisco for Uncle Danpa's birthday celebration. Our boy was enamored with the flamenco dancers, and has since become obsessed with Andalusian gypsy culture. 

Young Old hanging out with Mama K's good friend Elena's latest addition, Young Mia. The two certainly bonded in their brief time together.

Maybe even bonded a little too well... Son, at least buy her a bottle of milk before rubbing diapers.

The Bruce showing Young Old, Young Mia and Friend Elena the proper technique to feeding goldfish. Since then, Young Old finds it hilarious to "feed" us with a properly thrown handful of Cheerios.

Young Old assisting his Nana with the preparation of dinner. Just last night he made us a wonderful meal of sauteed truffles and bouillabaisse, followed by maple-bacon profiteroles and sherry. Thanks, Mom, it's good to finally be putting the kid to use.

Young Old keeping us safe in the backyard pool.

The certified life guard springs into action when an obviously distressed Mama K begins flailing her arms for help.

WARNING! Don't peek below unless you want to see some ex-Chippendales models rinsing off. Seriously though, Young Old loves the shower, while simultaneously being terrified of it. It's a hilarious experience. Plus, it's really the only way to thoroughly get that accumulated food/poop crust dislodged from his exterior.

Young Old enjoying a nightcap of fermented salad dressing with his Nana and The Bruce. 

Young Old, The Movie XXIII

Anyone ever see that Mike Judge film Idiocracy? This would be a perfect clip for the show of the future, Ow, My Balls!.



Okay, so we're off to the Canadian territory of Alaska for some much needed R&R. I'll attempt to get in a few posts if we can find someone with web access...the Internets were only recently discovered where we're going, so this might prove difficult. Until then, loyal viewers. So long!

Young Old, The Movie XXII

Our little poop shooter working the crud cannon:

The Entertainer

There's never a dull moment in Young Old's world whenever his Auntie Ren is around to clown it up. Peep it:

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I'm Tired So You Get Pictures, Vol. 26

The saga continues...

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Chalk this contraption up under the category of completely unnecessary baby gear. I imagine that the backpack is wonderful out on hiking excursions, not that we have time for them, but Mama K is obsessed with venturing outside the home with Young Old strapped in Urban Commando-style. Young Old digs it, though, so I guess I'll just shut up.

As the sun has only recently begun to show his warm, cancer-inducing smile, this was Young Old's first experience with sunscreen. He found it quite delicious. Good thing it's organic. [Wait a second...organic sunscreen? Really? I cry bullshit.-Ed.] Apparently it was my first experience with sunscreen, as well, as I thought one is supposed to massage it into one's scalp to protect one's noggin. Instead, Young Old emerged from my ministrations with one seriously greasy, and nastily tangled, mop of head fur. Sorry, Mama K, we're learning here.

Just another day at the office.

Not sure whether he's going for the Bob Dylan or the Kramer look, but I know I like it.

"Hey, doppelganger buddy! Oh man, you also dig The Coup? I stole this album from Daddy, how 'bout you?"

I love this picture of my better two-thirds. Uncle Railroad's creeping around in the background.

The Young One soaking up his Grandma Alaska before her Portland departure.

Young Old, listening to his favorite radio station: KCRY 1040 AM, all whine, all the time. By the way, check out that shirt! Thanks, Auntie Annie.

Our new favorite pastime...spying on the neighbors and reporting back to the HOA. Young Old has the CC&Rs memorized by now.

Leaving some caricature love for Mama K to find on her way out the door. We really appreciate you bringing home the bacon, love. 'Cause bacon is delicious.

Young Old, Lunar Cycle No. 10

Things are looking up; only 20 days late this time around.

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Young Larval's developmental achievements, circa his 10th month of pre-pupa life:

• Having watched one too many episodes of Mama K's step aerobic videos, Young Old has unfortunately mastered the art of climbing. Couches, chairs, coffee tables...all stepping stones to the objects of his desire. Just around his lunar anniversary, our little Sherpa goat decided that he had graduated to the major leagues and went right on up two flights of stairs within 9.24 seconds. A baby gate is now a permanent fixture at the base of Mount Stairest.
• Like a true (*cough* 1/8) Italian, Giovane Vecchio has begun to "speak" with his hands. Waving, clapping, pointing, and gesturing rudely whenever we're slow to entertain him, our bambino is easily communicating his needs. Let's hope our fanciullo isn't paying attention to Papa's hand gestures when someone cuts him off in traffic. Vaffanculo!
  
• Crawling is old hat at this point...it's all about improving his speed now. Some kind of competitive bug has bit Young Old's cute little 'arse, and he now has us timing his laps around the bottom floor of the house so that he can continually best himself. Spontaneous races with Frisco the Cat are a near-hourly occurrence. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all about promoting exercise, but when we're in the used clothing store and he's trying to grab at the spandex onesies, you know it's gone too far.
• Thanks to our morning ritual of bumping gangsta rap and prancing around in front of the bedroom mirror, Young Old has quickly picked up a few of Papa Old's amazingly well-choreographed dance routines, busting them out whenever the sound of music graces his inner ear. I'm not much of a TV consumer, but aren't there shows out there where our bouncy little guy can make us some money? Someone let me know, 'cause writing this blog sure ain't paying the bills.
• Lots more eating of solid foods, and lots less interest in Mama K's Boob Juice. We're considering starting to wean him completely around his one year birthday, in preparation for Mama K's return to work (she's currently on summer break, but more on that in another post). Papa Old is okay with this, as he hasn't been allowed to play with Mama K's Boob Juice makers since their unfortunate, but understandably necessary, conversion to Milk Cannons.
  
• Young Old has always made himself laugh now and again, but lately, he's really been cracking himself up. His "jokes" are firmly entrenched in the realm of juvenile, "potty" humor, often involving fart noises when Mama and Papa are trying to have a conversation, actual flatulence in a silent restaurant, purposeful peeing on his handlers when emerging from the bathtub, and drop-kicking his poopy diaper mid-change, all accompanied by peals of snorting laughter. Haha, hilarious, son. We're so laughing.
• Young Old knows his name, turning without hesitation whenever he feels his ears burning. However, this only applies when Mama K and I aren't actually trying to get his attention; in situations actually requiring his attention, a firmly repeated "Young Old" is met with a turned away head, diverted attention, or plain ignoring. Then more of that hysterical laughter at our obvious irritation, simply because he likes to torture us. Only seventeen more years to go, has quickly become our mantra.

Young Old at 10 months:

I'm Tired So You Get Pictures, Vol. 25

Haven't shown pictures from our private collection in quite some time, so...

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Young Old getting all domestic and shit. He's excited now, but let's see how he feels when it becomes his nightly chore for the next 18 years of his life. Having kids is great.

The Young One helping Papa Old out with a project aka dropping all of Daddy's tools off the deck one by one when his back is turned. Thanks for the assistance, pal, but you're fired.

Why anyone in their right mind would go out and purchase an overpriced "teething toy" is beyond me. Everyday normal household items do the trick just fine. On second thought, Young Old is almost a year old and has so far born no teeth, so maybe the fault lies in our anti-capitalistic stubbornness.

Birth Control #491. Bear in mind, this is only the visible mess. That sticky sludge is coating everything else within a 12-foot radius, and supper clean-up usually lasts a solid 45 minutes. You should see the damage this boy can cause with a banana or some sweet potatoes. Oh, the horror.

I love this picture. That is one satisfied hombre.

Chilling with Grandma Alaska before she heads off into the Bush for a summer of hunting beach asparagus and canning grizzly bear.

"What the fuck, Dad!? All my life you keep me cooped up in this dump and neglect to tell me that there's this whole other reality sitting outside my front door. Peace, I'm outta here."

Welcoming Mama K home from a long day at the office. Precious.

A travel-cloaked Young Baggins, smoking some of that fine Shire weed. Don't you have a ring to destroy or something, dude? [Translation: Thanks, Sue, for the cool poncho! -Ed.]

My...head...exploding...from...sheer...cuteness. BLAM.

Young Old, The Movie XXI

DJ Young Old, representin'.


As promised, some "Walk-A-Long" footage. Please watch this video 3,481 times to truly appreciate the horror we now experience whenever Young Old fires up his walker.


[Sorry if the videos don't play. Blogger has been buggier than the Everglades the past few days. -Ed.]

Young Old, Lunar Cycle No. 9

We're back from our trip to Cali and now need a vacation from our vacation, especially since we're leaving town again in two weeks to head up to Alaska. Anyway, wanted to play some serious catch-up, and hit you with the summary for Young Old's ninth month of life, with his ten month update coming tomorrow or the next day.

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[Going off some really old notes here, so bear with me if this seems like utter nonsense, which it very likely is. -Ed.]

• Young Old's prolific vomiting career is over, and after a brief stint at the rehab facility, he has officially gone cold turkey from the baby antacids. Tums are a helluva drug.
• Young Old has been eating lots of new foods; so many, in fact, that we've had to begun keeping track of them all on a calendar to make sure we're allowing a good three days or so in between to account for possible allergic reactions. So far, he's been really enjoying watermelon, sunscreen, and cat litter.
• Music is this boy's life. Every morning, Young Old and I load up the ghetto blaster and bounce to some obscure tunes from my vast cassette tape catalogue. We keep it firmly ensconced in the early 90's up in this batch. I'm so thankful that we utilized music to calm The Boy from an early age, as he's now constantly rocking out and laughing whenever anything with a rhythm hits his big ol' ears. I still remember the soundtrack to my early childhood (lots of Beatles and CCR), and hope to pass one on to my son, as well.
  
• Now that he's mobile, he's much less tentative interacting in this brave new world of his. A life of adventure is the name of the game, and he's a serious winner, getting into all sorts of trouble each and every minute of the day. No nook or cranny is left unexplored. No object is left saliva-free.
  
• Young Old is now standing and walking with the support of grabbed ledges and his little push cart toy (videos should be coming your way soon, I swear). Baby proofing has now entered the vertical realm, forcing us to clear off tables, put the lids down on the toilet, pull up blind cords, and elevate our plant life. Sorry buddy, no matter how much you want to shove that cactus in your mouth, it really won't taste good.
• Less naps = more sleep at night = total awesomeness. He's still interrupting our slumber one to three times for feedings, but you won't hear any complaints about seven hours compared to our previous five or six during the early months. That was awful. Thanks, bud, we love you for it.
• Temper tantrums are now the default setting when objects are taken away from the little guy's slimy little paws. It's pretty annoying actually.
• The Young One is much more interactive now, making our wrestling matches feel less like child abuse, and our poker games a bit more challenging, though, more often than not, I still take him for his whole pile of cheerios.
  

Our little crotch fruit at nine months: