avablog

I know it’s too early to start talking like we’re going to have only one child, but there’s some interesting research out there lately that suggests only kids aren’t the hyper-entitled terrors they were once thought to be.

I’m a member of the “que sera sera” camp; If we have another child, great. If not, no problem. Would it be a neat experience for Ava to have a sibling? Sure. Would it stress our underdeveloped parenting skills to the point of collapse? Possibly.

I do like the portability of one child, especially a small one like Ava. It’s not too difficult to get her up and going and into the car when we need to get somewhere. I suppose if there were another child involved, we’d just have to split up and each take a kid. A couple people I’ve talked to who have three kids mention the sensation of suddenly being outnumbered, which is funny at first but then becomes increasingly terrifying as you project the idea into the future.

I grew up next door to a big Catholic family. Fourteen kids (and only 1 girl!). Now that I have my own child, I can’t for the life of me figure out how those parents did what they did. I know it’s a Catholic thing, but surely there was a point somewhere along the way when the mother said, “Oh, God, not again.” That’s, like, 20 straight years of being pregnant. I wonder if you go through pregnancy withdrawal after being pregnant that long. I can’t imagine there’s any amount of money in the world that would convince Leah to do something like that. One child is starting to sound better all the time.

First the big face, now this.

Don’t make me get out that unicorn again.

Ava woke up last night just as Leah and I were getting to bed. She was crying and calling for me, and I could tell by the sound of her little sobs that she was probably just having a bad dream (we’re told it’s normal for kids to start having “night terrors” at Ava’s age). I went into her room and lay down next to her. I rubbed her back and tried to distract her with a whispered fabrication about seeing a monkey in the tree outside our house, but she continued to cry. She wasn’t even awake. And then, she just stopped. It was as if she’d never been crying at all. She rolled over, snuggled up against my chest, and started to snore.

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Wow. Just…wow.

Leah’s such a romantic. Today she booked a room for us at the Captain Merry in East Dubuque, IL for our anniversary. It looks like a really cool place. I think I’ve already picked out what I’m having for dinner; who could pass up a ribeye/antelope combo? I don’t get enough antelope.

EDIT: Forget what I said about eating at the Inn’s bistro. We’re aiming now for the Pepper Sprout. Check out that menu!

The Merry was a recommendation of our friend Lori Erickson, a local freelance writer who’s forgotten more about cool places to stay in the Midwest than I’ll ever learn. We wanted a neat place nearby, and the Merry fits the bill perfectly.

RedEnvelope tells me that the 4th anniversary is the flowers/linen occasion. Hmm. Flowers don’t seem a very lasting anniversary gift. And linens? I’m sure Leah will really appreciate getting another load of future laundry. I’m going to have to get creative (pray for me).

This night out, should it come to pass, will be our first overnight away from Ava since her birth. Those of you who were reading here last winter might remember the final disposition of our last getaway attempt. What was going to be a nice weekend away in Chicago with Leah’s sister and brother in law became a cozy stay at the local Marriott in a room with Ava and Leah’s parents, courtesy of a sudden ice storm. The weather should hold in September long enough for us to get to Dubuque and back.

OK. Deep, dark parental admission time: I never really wanted to have a boy. And I’m not sure why not.

It’s not that I was hoping we wouldn’t have a boy. I was indifferent as to the matter of sex when our baby was growing in Leah’s womb; I just wanted the baby to be born with enough physical and mental capacity to have a good start in the world, regardless of what was going on with its genitals. And we got that, thankfully. I was dumbstruck when the nurse told us we had a little girl. I’d always known I didn’t want to know our child’s sex ahead of its birth, but I didn’t understand what a wise intuition that was until that moment of delivery. A girl. Those two words were forever transformed at about 9:45 p.m. on September 17th, 2004.

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This is the 7,000th image I’ve uploaded to flickr:

Coulda been better, coulda been worse. Over half of those images are of Ava, so if you’re not on my friends or family list or otherwise connected, you’re missing out.

Just buy the Planet Earth DVDs already, would you? What are you waiting for?

I could go on and on about the videography, the production values, the wildlife scenes, the score, etc., but probably the best testimonial I can muster is that Leah actually endured (and even appeared rapt by) a long segment that featured hundreds of thousands of huge cockroaches teeming over the surface of a 100-meter pile of bat guano at the bottom of a cave. Heck, it even gave me the willies, but it was amazing.

Ava really loves the videos, too. I wish, however, there were some easy way to jump straight to the segments with the baby monkeys; that would make my life a lot easier.

I’m looking forward to next month. There’s a lot going on.

I’ve always looked forward to September, as it’s my birth month (go Virgo, it’s your birthday). But over the last couple years I’ve managed to heighten September’s importance through sheer determination and shrewd strategic planning. First was the wedding: September 6th. Then the baby: September 17th. Then my big day on the 20th.

This year, there are a couple additional events we’re looking forward to. For the 8th, our friend Mara has planned a wine tasting at her home helmed by local wine guru, musician, and 16th Century drama nut Robert Morey. All the usual suspects will be there, and we’ll be joined by newcomers Jody and Carter. My heart aches for the pregnant women in the group; will their men rise to the occasion and sample their share of the wine? Stay tuned….

Then, on the 15th, we’ll have Ava’s birthday party in the morning sometime, probably at City Park, same as last year (the train is a big draw). That evening, Leah and I will go with three other couples to Simone’s for a pizza dinner on the farm. At least one couple has never been there before, so I’m looking forward to inaugurating more Plain and Simple devotees.

EDIT: Dear me, I almost forgot! September 22nd marks the annual Apple Cider Weekend in Decorah, when all G.G.’s friends and family get together to pick, process, and eat apples (and other things). It’s a great time. I think Ava should be big enough to crank the wheel on the press this year.

Between now and then should be interesting. Time always moves more slowly when you’re anticipating something special, but having Ava around makes the hours and days fly by. Maybe things will even out?

Now Ava’s streak is going in the other direction. Two bedtime accidents in a row!

I got her to go potty twice last night right before bed, but she still had an accident. It doesn’t seem right to put her back into pull-ups now, after she had been doing so well, and I guess it’s not a huge deal to wash her sheets in the morning. Even so, it’s a bit of a pain to get up in the middle of the night, strip her and the bed down, and then have her with us for the rest of the night. She may not look it, but that kid’s getting kind of gangly! And her favorite sleeping position is spread eagle, which nearly takes up the whole width of the bed now.

Just between you and me, I suspect her midnight wets are really a ploy to get into bed with us. Sshhh! Don’t tell Leah!

So I’m lying with Ava last night at bedtime after reading her a couple books, and of course I doze off. Must’ve been around 9:30 or so. Some time later, I awoke in a clammy start in her little single bed and felt the side of my t-shirt. Wet. Did her water bottle leak? I then felt Ava’s underpants-clad butt and confirmed that the water bottle was not to blame. Poor little monkey. Her dry streak ended at a measly three days.

In her defense, we did try to get a lot of water down her last evening, what with the high heat and heavy humidity outside. We took a walk after dinner, and Leah took a number of opportunities to give Ava drinks from a water bottle. Then, with her pre-bedtime snack, she drank some fizzie water and even took some tugs off my ice water. We should’ve made her try to use the bathroom again before putting her down. Live and learn.

She spent the remainder of the night in our bed, clad in nothing but a pull-up, and slept soundly all the way through. She didn’t seem too distraught by memories of last night’s accident; perhaps she didn’t remember any of it.

It’s not something I created, but I figured it was time for an overhaul. Stick with me. There’s some changes need to be made, and I’ll make them as quickly as I can.

— The Management

PS — The header image is a small shout out to my dear SIL, who’s in the middle of her Ph.D. comps this week. Go get ’em, Rachie! The header image was a shout out to Rachel, then I changed it. Hey, it doesn’t mean I’m not still thinking of her.

How could I have missed posting about this until now?

The night of Sunday, August 12, 2007, Ava slept all night in her big girl underpants for the first time and woke up the next morning dry as a bone (same as the sheets).  It was quite a milestone, and Ava was thrilled as we fussed over her.

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Kind Reader:

I appreciate your patience during our prolonged absence. I anticipate our vacation will be just the thing to allow me to attack this blog with renewed vigor as summer draws to a close.

On the drive to Decorah on Sunday, we stopped at a rest area to have a stretch. There was a family there having lunch at a picnic table. Ava wandered over by the table to check out a little girl who looked about her size. Turns out the object of her interest was in fact exactly the same age as Ava and the youngest of seven kids, all of whom were there on vacation with their parents.

Leah and I talked to the parents for a bit. The father was in his early 50s, the mother in her late 40s. I had a difficult time coming up with any conversation topic that didn’t sound like, “What were you thinking?” But we got on well. The dad, Craig, is the first person I ever met who actually said “yous,” as in, “Where are yous from?”

Then, yesterday, as we stopped in Winthrop, IA, on the way home to Iowa City, we met a couple who’re biking from Oregon to Boston. God help ’em. Nice folks, but they looked like a couple strips of beef jerky after being out in the sun for over 2,100 miles. Naturally, they have a Web site.

You probably gather, correctly, that Ava did and said lots of cute things while on vacation. More on that soon….

We’re heading home on Sunday and will arrive back in I.C. on Monday. I understand it’s been very hot, muggy, and rainy in Iowa City while we’ve been gone. Makes me hesitant to mention it’s been about 80, dry, and sunny here every day. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure I’ll have to mow my lawn with a tractor when I get home. As I write this, it’s a bit cloudy outside and cool. Here’s a shot from our front porch last night, looking out over Lake Superior:

I’ve been trying to pare down my picture activity this year rather than come home with 400 pictures to wade through. Still, I’m uploading about 130 shots to flickr now; who knows how many I’ll manage to get up over this paltry connection before I give up.

Here’s hoping you and yours are enjoying a lazy, relaxing late summer, wherever you are.

We’re on our way north, which is fine with me.  The temps here down below look like they’re going to continue to climb into the 90s over the next week, while it’s going to be in the upper 60s where we’ll be on Tuesday.  Rain, maybe, but who cares?

Marital issue:  We arrived in Decorah this afternoon, and there were dead bugs all over the front of the car.  I’m not sure what else one would expect as the result of driving 130 miles through farm country in the first week of August.

Anyway, we get to Decorah, and Leah wants me to clean the bugs off the front of the car.  I point out that we’re going to be driving another four hours tomorrow, this time through river country.  Why clean off the front of the car when it’s going to be covered in bugs again by the time we even get to the highway tomorrow?  WWJD?

“Wait staff who don’t write down my order.”

Clue for said wait staff: Any admiration you might engender in me with your ability to “remember” my order at the table is totally trumped by my having to eat a cajun shrimp po’ boy instead of the Cuban pork sandwich I ordered. Save the showmanship for 1/2-price wine night, when no one gives a care if they’ve been given shiraz instead of malbec.

I’m not going to name the restaurant that’s employing the most recent offender, I’ll only say that its address is 126 E. Washington St.

Shoddy!

Ava talks. And talks and talks and talks. She has a pretty good vocabulary (I don’t have anything to measure it against, but it seems impressive to me for a three-year-old), and her pronunciation is surprisingly sharp (Leah noted with due parental affection last evening how cute it is that Ava pronounces “belly” as “bewwy”).

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I love to walk around like a total tourist when I’m visiting a place. And particularly cities with lots of cool architecture.

I think it would be sad if you lived or worked every day somewhere like downtown Chicago and became inured to the beautiful buildings all around you. I suppose it’s inevitable to some degree, humans being what they are.

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