Hi From Nessa

[I recently received this email from Nessa Bug, regarding our visit at her and Auntie Annie's home last week. Thought I'd share it with all of you, it's that cute. She's six years old, almost seven this next month. -Ed.]

==========

I had a fun time with baby [Young Old] this weekend. He is the cutest baby in the whole wide world . I just want to give him all the love. It was so fun to have him come over. He is a squirm a sauras .not a snuggle sauras . He is just a monkey .

LOVE YA
NESSA BUG

==========

We love you, too, Nessa. Young Old misses you already!

Young Old's First Adventure

Having decided that we had been neglecting our friends up north in Bellingham, Washington for entirely too long, combined with the fact that we had been adventure-starved ever since the little man was bestowed upon us, we decided to head out on a four-day round trip journey by train to visit our dear friend Auntie Annie and her daughter Nessa Bug. This was to be Young Old's first rail voyage, unfortunate only in that it was not a proper "riding of the rails" filled with tramps, fleas, cop pursuits and knife fights. Ah well...all the same, it was a grand trip, Mama K and I enjoying the magnificent scenery scrolling past our window, Young Old seeing how many times he could vomit and shit his drawers within a six hour time span. Really, though, taking the train beat driving any day. We didn't have to stop and pull over every 30 minutes to feed or change the little guy, potentially making a 5 1/2 hour drive into an 8 hour nightmare. The Amtrak train has a diner car fully-stocked with tasty nibblets and life-warming coffee slurps. Onboard bathrooms left something to be desired in the sanitation department, but all the same, saved us time as we never stopped getting closer to our final destination. We'd also like to think we were being environmentally friendly by utilizing this oldest form of mass transit, though I'm not sure what powers these suckers...steam, coal, the blood of gypsies? All in all, the round trip tickets for Mama K, Young Old, and I came to $60; no complaints there. Hands down, this is my favored method of travel from here on out.

More on the trip tomorrow. Until then, here are a few photos from the beginning of our journey out of Union Station aboard the Cascade Express.

Choo choo.

=========

I always vowed that I'd never be that guy, you know, the Dad with twelve bags. And yet here we are, lugging around enough supplies and rations to feed and cloth an army for six months of jungle warfare.

Young Old, waiting for the train to arrive, says "Boooooring. Let's get this show on the road, folks."

Boarding the metallic beast of burden.

Young Old, future hobo.

Bike Date

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Papa Old Crashes

A week or so ago, Mama K came home from work to find the first floor of our apartment unexpectedly vacant. Upon calling out my name and getting no response, she walked up the stairs, peeked into the bedroom to witness this scene:

The previous night had been a late one, not even hitting the pillow until after 3:00am, then waking up the next morning around 7:00am when Young Old demanded some belly-fill. Horrible diaper rash, full-bore growth spurt, hourly feedings, explosive gas, and diaper change after diaper change (literally, I changed his diaper four times in a row...just when the clean one was on, BAM!, insta-shitty pants). This all added up to a very tired Daddy Old, and a very cranky Young Old who gave me the "Get your effing hands off of me" look every time I attempted to put him down for a nap. Finally, exhaustion stalled my engine...propping an alert and grumpy Boy next to me, I snuggled up and passed out, my hand gripping the youngun's waist so he couldn't sneak off and shoot birds with his pellet gun. I'm not sure how long we were there, but damn, it sure was heart-warming looking back at these pictures.

I'm Tired So You Get Pictures Vol. 10

You know the drill. Very little sleep, no energy to write, lots of cute pictures.

We both win.

========================

Like I said, this kid is growing up in a major way. Holding his own bottle? Sheesh. Next thing we know, he'll be stealing the car (just make sure you fill it up before you bring it back, son).

Young Old and Grandpa Alaska enjoying a deeply intellectual mind-reading session.

He's a happy one, that's for sure.

Auntie Ren displaying Young Old's bath cocoon.

It was great having you, Auntie Ren and Grandpa Alaska. Thanks for bonding with The Boy; thirty years from now, I'm sure he, too, will appreciate it.

Lunar Cycle No.2

[Apologies for the unexplained absence, loyal readers. Mama K and I took Young Old on a train journey to Bellingham, Washington last Friday, and only just returned last night. More on the trip later once photos are downloaded. Now on to our regular broadcasting... -Ed.]

The little brain goblin controlling Young Old's growth recently hit the "Overdrive" button. Our little son has become not so little anymore, adding a handful of inches over this time last month, and almost doubling his weight, likely the result of his voracious mammary-milk appetite. Sometimes I have to remind myself how much I'd be eating if I was shooting for close to 400 lbs. by next month. His muscle mass is expanding at a ridiculous rate, allowing him to hold his head up as long as he'd like, to stand up with very little assistance, and to sock me so hard my eye bleeds. He's discovered his fingers, and has begun to hold his pacifier in place and assist with holding up his milk bottle. He's also fascinated by everything he brushes up against, running his fingers through my beard, grabbing onto his own hair, and attempting to yank his ears off. The same goes for the tongue...anything remotely close to his mouth now gets the tongue treatment...jab jab, lick lick. Often, he simply tests the air like a cobra, attempting to locate unwary prey, like the lens of my glasses. Our favorite part about whatever milestones he's nailing is the new found method of verbal communication. His eewing, grunting, gurgling, aahing, and coooing strike a chord in whichever brain region of ours is responsible for smiles and laughter. We literally burst into love giggles whenever he decides he wants to give this whole "talk" thing a spin. Lately, we've been holding cooing conversations for ten, twenty minutes at a time. The Boy and I are bonding, and it feels great whenever I step into the room and he looks straight into my eyes and gives me a huge smile, then proceeds to babble what I hope is a "Don't worry, Dad. You're doing just fine."

Young Old at two months:

Auntie Ren and Grandpa Alaska Come to Town

Last week, Young Old's Grandpa Alaska (Mama K's father) came down out of the great Northern wilderness to visit with his grandson for the first time. He seemed a bit awkward around him at first, which is understandable as he hasn't dealt with one of these slimy little critters in almost three decades, but quickly settled right into the flow of things, helping me out immensely during the days when Mama K was away at work. His Auntie Ren also drove down from Seattle two weekends in a row to help us out with all the snuggling, feeding, and diapering (oddly enough, she volunteered each and every time to clean his arse up, with a relish that Mama K and I distinctly lack...almost makes us wish she moved in with us). Between the two of them, Mama K and I got some much needed rest from the less exciting baby duties, and we just wanted to give our immense thanks for all the help, fam. Come anytime, and not just 'cause you clean a mean diaper...

A few photos:

Papa Old's Psych Ward

Young Old recently discovered his limbs, and since that point has been in a near-constant state of manic arm and leg frenzy. Face punching fist jabs and legs running through air like a Warner Bros. cartoon character, this kid is going gangbusters over his new found abilities. Now I'm normally not one for inhibiting personal growth or limiting individual freedoms, but today I about had it. Young Old was gyrating and kung fu punching with such gusto, that he was stressing himself out, repeatedly socking himself in the eye, knocking his heels together, twisting his back and neck out of working order, etc. So like any orderly dealing with an out-of-control lunatic, I mummy-wrapped Young Old nice and snug in a straight jacket-like cocoon of relaxation and limited self-harm potential. We both giggled (well, he gurgled) at how silly the whole circumstance was, then he gave me a look like "Okay, jokes over. Let me out." To which I replied, "Nap time," which, thankfully, he was cool with.

My little locomotive loco:

A Loooong Day

Very tiring day, on the stay-at-home front. Young Old has a distressingly painful diaper rash, and erupts in shrill screams the instant he #1s or #2s it. What this means is that I changed 4,287 diapers today, and my quadriceps are still killin' me from going up and down the stairs.

Mama K came home to this.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzonked.

And yes, that is a cord coming out of Young Old's sleeve. When his battery runs low, we have to plug him in for an hour or so to revitalize him. This baby thing is a bit low-tech, if you ask me.

I'm Tired So You Get Pictures Vol. 9

There will be very little typing tonight, not really because I'm tired, but because my finger tips are burned, due to an unfortunate kitchen accident involving bacon (as should all good accidents).

So a few pictures of the burbling babe:

==================

Mama K soothes the beast.

Homeboy hates going to sleep, but, much like his father, really dislikes waking up.

Frisco the Cat wants to snuggle, but says "Close enough."

Our very own Nuclear Family Unit.