Baby Blase

The kid’s imagination is astounding and I am probably more proud of this than any other milestone to date. Smiling was awesome. And yes, I got really excited about walking. But, IMAGINATION!

Holy cow has the kid taken the concept and run with it.

It began a while ago - last summer even - when he started sharing his drinks with his toys. But, he now pretends to eat food that isn’t there. Sometimes it’s “Blue Cake!” or “Cookies!” and he will share his imaginary food with you. And when you attempt to pick up the food that he has so generously given you, you are almost always - embarrassingly enough - picking up the food from the wrong place. This leads to an exchange of:

Harrison: pointing - “No - there!”

Me: “Here?”

Harrison: “Yeah.”

Me: “Yes.”

Harrison: “Yes.”

He is also fond of imaginary dinosaurs that hide in bushes.

And pretending to be an airline pilot. Announcing to the passengers “All aboard!”. And allowing the teeny-tiny little imaginary people to walk from the ground on to his outstretched arms wings, where they settle in somewhere between his armpit and ribcage for the bumpy ride around the house.

He pushes his little cart around the house announcing that he is “Going to the market.”, “To buy groceries.”

The “market” for groceries” is a popular destination for his bike riding around the house as well. Apparently that’s all we do around here.

He also likes wearing his backpack and “Going to school.” and picking up a small toy-suitcase and announcing that he is “Going to work.” or “Trip. Bye Bye!”

He loves holding “babies” - which have taken the form of, among other things, a roll of paper towels and a toy rolling pin. He is incredibly gentle with them - rocks them. Sings to them. Wraps them in blankets. Puts them down to sleep. And more often than not ends up dropping them on their poor baby-noggins as soon as some other shiny toy catches his eye.

He has also recently pretended to be a cat and a puppy. He’ll sit at my feet and look up at me in a demure way that encourages petting. I think it’s hilarious that it is only when pretending to be an animal (or watching TV or reading books) that he is capable of toning down the spaz. I wish I knew what that meant - psychologically - or maybe I don’t want to know.

Listening: Local Natives

“It’s not in there.”

At least that’s what I think Chelsea told me. I will have to check. Bad momma - need to dust off that mental scrapbook and start using that sucker for important details like this!

It’s been a hectic week here, what with the speeding ticket* I got; the proof of insurance and current registration I didn’t have; the Texas drivers license I have neglected to get; the Social Security Card I needed to procure in order to get said license and the tidal wave of great work we are finishing up; the BlaseDesign blog that we are THIS CLOSE to finishing; and the very special people who are coming to town tonight!!

Listening: Band Of Skulls

*first ticket since high school - what an epic pain in the arse!

So, I promised to talk golf, when I brought up H’s latest obsession. So, here it is.

Marc’s parents were here last month. Grandpa, the committed golfer, has long grumbled about our lack of cable. He has a weekend routine that he needs to keep, which includes watching sleeping through golf coverage on TV each afternoon. For two years now, each visit to our home has included unsuccessful negotiations regarding the procurement of a TV antenna. This year, he finally wore Marc down - with LOST’s final season and the winter Olympics, Marc’s will power was significantly diminished. So, we have TV now.

After being allowed to watch TV with us, we of course allowed H to watch golf with grandpa after waking up from his naps - because there is nothing cuter than a half-awake child snuggled in the crook of your arm, drinking milk. So, H got to watch golf. After seeing his interest in grandpa’s favorite sport I suggested that the grandparents buy him a golf set on one of their Target runs. Grandpa suggested a baseball bat - we found out later that he was not as convinced of Harrison’s athletic prowess as I and didn’t think he was ready yet.

They finally caved and gave him a set.

He knew what to do immediately, except for needing some instruction on which direction the club is to face the ball. But, he loooooooved it. And is terribly serious when he plays.

He took his clubs with him in the bath and into the shower (oh yeah - he takes showers now - it’s stupid-cute). And he took his golf balls out to dinner:

I have what seems like hours of footage of him hitting the “gauwlf bah”, but, they are so excruciatingly boring (it’s golf - not even this cute kid can make it exciting to watch) and most have me screaming at the top of my lungs with amazed encouragement straight into the camera microphone - so I will spare you.

But, even the doubting grandpa admitted that this kid knows what he’s doing. And as he watched him hit that little white ball across the room over and over and over I could see more than a tinge of anticipation in grandpa’s face - envisioning the many afternoons they will spend walking the course together…

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WHACK!

Our first play-induced casualty. And yeah - he did that with a teeny, tiny plastic ball from a good distance away. Here we go!

Listening: Johnny

Overjoyed with the presentation of pizza at dinner time, H attempts to say “thank you”.

The phrase “thank you” has been a hurdle to overcome. And he actually JUST started saying it correctly this week. And while I was only very mildly concerned about the fact that he could never say “thank you” (it was always “PeeKee” or PeeBee, PeeMee, PeePee, MeeMoo, MeePee instead of anything sounding even remotely like the phrase he was attempting to communicate) I did think that this was odd.

And now, I so completely miss it.

Listening: The Morning Benders (man, that is a pretty song - can’t stop listening)

First it was football. Then came the drums. Then golf and although the kid still enjoys to whack the little white ball around (photos and stories still to come), that phase was short-lived and mild compared to this.

This video was taken on day two of the kid learning to ride a real skateboard. He’s pretty amazing actually. It comes incredibly naturally for him. It is the most attached he has ever become to anything in his life. More so than either of his parents, a bottle, a blanket, a stuffed animal, even Aunt Kylies. Skateboarding has trumped it all.

The wooden-wheeled board (that he can correctly name all of the parts to: wheel, truck, riser, deck, grip tape) is truly his obsession. He wakes each morning since Saturday - still groggy - asking for the skateboard. If in a story book at night he sees a skateboard he will jolt from his sleepy-state and demand “skateboarding!”, “DO IT!”, “RIDE IT!”, “HOLD IT!”. And nap time has become an absolute disaster. He now cries and yells for his skateboard and not until he is dead-asleep will it stop. On Saturday he fell asleep, started snoring then out of nowhere began to cry and moaned skate…board… IN HIS SLEEP.

Listening: The Givers

Elizabeth and Dave are here visiting. So, we went out to breakfast and walked around south congress for some window shopping.

It is great to see you guys again!

Listening: Lightning Dust

Oh yeah - I forgot that I have yet to reveal my skater name…

After a wonderful evening with friends … wine, appetizers, wine, yummy dinner, wine … Kris came up with a list of names for me to try on. The top two of the list that weren’t already taken were “Strawberry Shorthate” & “Sinnerfold”. I liked both, but, in the end felt that Strawberry Shorthate was long and would be inevitably shortened and I would end up being know as Strawberry. As flashes of 3rd grade red-headed-teasings came flooding back I decided against it.

So, Sinnerfold it is.

My number is “pg. 77″ (numbers can be made of letters, symbols and numbers) - “pg” is obviously a reference to the “centerfold” aspect of the name and “77″ is for the deadly sins (”7″ was taken).

So, there you have it. Come see us play - the next scrimmage is March 14 at Playland!

Listening: Miles Kurosky

Had my first scrimmage last Sunday. I’m the big girl next to the hot little thing in black - her name is Spicy - and she’s awesome. I may be mistaken but, I think she has a 6 month old daughter. Uh - yeah. These chicks are A-MAZING!

After seeing myself in white I now know why I don’t include that as a part of my wardrobe.

I had a great time. I didn’t do nearly as good as I had imagined I would in the dreams I had each night leading up to the bout. The dreams that would wake me at 4am with my heart all a flutter with nerves and excitement, anxiety and anticipation. I could barely sleep. It was like waiting for Christmas morning, only instead of presents, I got my @$$ handed to me.

This is rec-league but, there is nothing recreational about it. At one point I was sandwiched between two returning players, each of them hitting me full-force at exactly the same time. I was almost able to remain standing, but, fell to my knees - probably just a an excuse to catch my breath.

I played jammer/blocker3/jammer and then repeated that rotation. I have A LOT to learn before I will live up to visions in my head. This is the most intense, complicated and by far the most fun sport I have ever played in my life. Snowboarding is right up there and if you could just ride and ride and ride and never sit on a chair lift or hike or pile on all of those clothes or wait in line or pay $75 dollars a day to do it snowboarding might just be better. But, it’s not.

Listening: The Blacks

Borrowing momma’s derby pads for some safe play in the living room.

Listening: The Morning Benders (lovely lovely lovely)

From the moment we found out that our kid was growing inside my belly, I have imagined myself as a “Momma”. Which is, in my mind, an entirely different word from “Ma Ma” - the common few syllables first pronounced by babies. I never thought of myself as a “Mommy” - especially as spoken by my son.

Until… he chose to call me “Mommy”. Out of the blue a few weeks ago he started yelling for “Mommmmyyyyyy!”. And sweetly and calmly referring to me as “Mommy” when pointing me out in drawings - like the one of Harrison and me flying in a helicopter - Harrison was flying it and I was peeking out through a teeny tiny little porthole in the back (note to self: do some research on helicopter architecture, because you apparently have no idea how they are designed).

I guess I find it touching and special that by calling me “Mommy” he has chosen a name for me rather than just repeating what we’ve told him. That this is proof that he is growing up - making his own desicions.

It’s these small surprises that are making this whole kid thing so great… and that keep making it better and better.

Listening: The United States (one of my must sees for SXSW)