avablog

Ava was off school today for conferences. Fortunately, Gramary freed up some time and was able to spend the day with Ava. Their activities included planning a party for us after work, which Ava hosted. Here she is opening the door for us upon our arrival:

A good time was had by all. And especially by Ava.

I love getting a random, hearty chuckles from the Internet. My recent favorite comes — as they often do — from an Amazon review. This time it’s of Danzig’s self-titled debut release, “Danzig:”

Reallly You need a reveiw?, January 31, 2009
By Dean

Buy this album. I just wanted to give it another 5 stars!
It has Mother for fvcks sake!

Well said, Dean. Well said.

Ava got all dressed up for Leah’s birthday yesterday. She was particularly pleased with her little red belt, which she’s been wearing a lot lately.

I don’t recall what that thing is she’s holding in her hand, but there’s a name for it. It’s some piece of paper she cut up with scissors and then glued to a stick. Maybe Leah remembers….

Unborn baby:

You’re a mover and a shaker. We were at Uncle Kevin and Aunt Rachel’s this past weekend to celebrate your mom’s birthday, and you helped entertain everyone with all your pokes and prods from inside the womb. You also got a kiss from your Aunt Rachel!

I doubt you felt it, but it’s a kiss all the same! Your Poom Poom and G.G. were there, too. I hope you had as much fun as we did.

The bad news is that your mom’s having a lot of contractions every day, usually in the afternoon. She called a nurse last night, who told us that these kinds of contractions are more common in second pregnancies and tend to show up when the mother is tired (your mom had them with Ava, too). This talk did your mom some good, but she’s going in tomorrow anyway to have her cervix checked. Doesn’t that sound like fun? When your sister was born, your mom’s cervix never opened wide enough, so we’re thinking it’s unlikely that there’s any problem this time around. But if we’ve learned anything from your big sis, it’s to expect the unexpected!

We spent the weekend in Madison, shoveling snow and eating tasty food, the latter as part of my dear wife’s birthday celebration. Now we’re back to the banal I.C. day-to-day routine (which is actually kind of nice). By this time next year, she’ll be a mother of two.

Depending on how long you’ve been on the Internet, this could be either the first or the 40th time you’ve read a story just like this. In any case, I’ll keep it short.
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You’re growing away, unborn baby! Your mom feels you kicking and rolling all the time. Your big sis enjoys putting her hands on mom’s tummy and marveling at how you move. It’s a fun time. I took more shots of mom yesterday, and I really like a couple of them. Por ejemplo:

We’ll see you soon, unborn baby! Love you.

So Ava’s lying in our bed this morning with Leah, feeling the baby move. Talk at one point turns to breastfeeding, as it often does in these situations, and I’m standing at the closet door when Ava lifts up Leah’s shirt — revealing her breasts — and exclaims, “Wowza!”

That is all.

It stands for Ear, Nose, Throat. Ava and I visited one today to see if he could give us any information on why Ava’s getting so many strep infections. As frustrating as her recurring bouts of the virus have been, dealing with them sure beats obsessing about whether to circumcise our next child, should it arrive with a penis.
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We’re thinking we’re on the downward slope of this whole lice business. At least until some parent at school sends his kid back with more bugs. It’s bittersweet. Sweet that we don’t have to lug every blanket, pillow, and stuffed animal in the house to the laundry every other day. Bitter that I won’t get a chance to sit Ava down for 45 squirm-free minutes while she gets her hair combed out.

Uncle Kevin let me borrow his awesome Canon 17-55 EFS lens this week, and I’ve been trying to avail myself of the loan. It goes back on Friday, and I’ve shot nary of pregnancy picture with it! Shame on me. I promise to do better in the coming days.

My pal Ben and I got together Sunday for a (really COLD) photo walk. It was a blast. I really enjoy driving through the countryside with a cup of coffee and good conversation, stopping every once in a while to snap some photos. Our destination was Muscatine (yes, Muscatine). Here’s our proof:

PS — Has there ever been anything as awesome as Flickr? I think not.

PPS — Eagles are damn big up close. Believe me.

I think I’ll only post here every three days now. Leah gave me a lot of hassle the other day for never posting to anonymark, which in her mind equals hating our unborn baby. As I like to say, “w/e.”

We had a pretty nice weekend. Lots and lots and lots of romance on Saturday, which you may have heard was Valentine’s Day. I know. I just recently found out, too. Anyway, Leah and I went to dinner while G.G. and Poom Poom slept on the couch sat Ava at our house (KIDDING! Thanks, G.G. and Poom Poom!). Our meal was passable, I thought, though it was clear the kitchen was a bit crushed by the capacity crowd; a couple of my items came out slightly scorched from the broiler. Tsk tsk! But the bebidas were good, and I got to sit across the table from the hottest MILF in the joint, so who can complain?
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I was waiting for Leah to come pick me up at work the other day, and as I stood just inside the door to our building, I found myself contemplating the unlikely perfection of the buttocks on the Herky statue that adorns the promenade outside our plaza entrance.

I tried to put myself in the sculptor’s shoes. I mean, this isn’t Michelangelo we’re talking about, and the subject sure ain’t no David. I get it that Herky needs to reflect a certain athleticism, being an athletics mascot, and what depicts athleticism better than a well-formed rump? Still, there’s a certain sillyness involved in the public portrayal of a butt. How nice to make it? When does “good enough” turn to “just right” turn to “absurd?” Had I been doing the sculpting, I might’ve toned it down a bit (pardon the pun). Most people are viewing the statues from the front, anyway, so the butt will always play third fiddle to the golden bird’s barrel chest and bulging biceps. Also, I need to try to keep my mind from wandering….

Ava and I walked downtown yesterday afternoon to give Leah some time to rest. The trip down was nice. Ava insisted on bringing her dog along for the walk, and so we tripped along through the puddles with Spot in tow.

It started raining when we arrived at the Co-op, but our friend Kerry was there with his minivan and offered us a ride home. Crisis averted!

Rachel and Kevin were in town over the weekend. It may be their last visit. Not only did they help us scour the whole house to eradicate the lice that Ava brought home from school, but Rachel left with a terrible case of strep (probably; she hasn’t been tested yet, but Leah got a positive test yesterday, and Rachel’s throat is so sore she can hardly swallow).
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And to frustrate me.

FACT: Anybody who knows anything about anything knows that The Jerk is the best movie Steve Martin has ever done. Second place? PT&A.

The only reason anyone would EVER put The Jerk at #9 on a list of Steve’s 10 Best Films is to generate controversy, thus conversation, thus Web traffic. To quote Navin Johnson, “It’s a profit deal!”

Octuplet Mom: A Huge Family Was ‘Always a Dream’

“That was always a dream of mine, to have a large family, a huge family.”

Gosh, I have some dreams I’d like to have come true, also, but my sense of right and wrong keeps me from fleecing the government to make them come true.

“I just longed for certain connections and attachments with another person that I really lacked, I believe, growing up,” she says.

Reflecting back on my childhood, I know it wasn’t functional. It was pretty, pretty dysfunctional, and whose isn’t?”

Right. Exactly. Whose isn’t? Fourteen children is not the cure for your childhood pain.

Suleman got the payments because of injuries she suffered during a 1999 riot at a California mental hospital where she worked, leaving her with chronic back pain.

She was still receiving disability payments at about the time she was inseminated with octuplets, and doctors had precluded her from taking any job that involved “prolonged sitting, standing and walking,” according to workers’ comp documents.

I smell fraud. Do you smell it? What kind of person has 14 children when she suffers from chronic back pain? The fleecing of America!

He’s just not that into you.
He’s just not that into you?
He’s just not that into you.
He’s just not that into you.
He’s just not that into you.
He’s just not that into you.

Well? Which is it?

I was home with Ava today, as she was feverish and complaining of stomach pain at school yesterday. When I went to pick her up, she was really lethargic and was crying. Leah and I were thinking appendicitis, but a quick trip to the pediatrician assuaged our fears. As a matter of fact, Ava achieved a miraculous recovery between the time I picked her up at school and when we sat down in the doctor’s office.
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One minute you’re sitting in your seat with your head between your legs, desperately trying to kiss your ass goodbye, the next — thanks almost entirely to the skill and brass ballz of your pilot — you’re heading home, safe and sound, on a ferry. What do you do? Thank your lucky star that you lived? Thank the pilot? Hug your kids? No. You bitch that the airline isn’t doing enough to compensate you for an accident that was clearly beyond their control. Stay classy, assholes!