a bathtub full of baby

My mom was sure that Jack would be able to bathe in her bathroom sink on our recent visit. Jack, on the other hand, felt that it was all a little bit undignified. The rather cramped bath ended abruptly when he pulled at the faucet and got a surprise spray of cold water. (We're really learning a lot of lessons about what we need to keep out of little man's reach now.)

Tears before bedtime, indeed.

we are family.

no foolin'...so in love.

the incredible journey

"who me, center of attention? i don't know what you're talking about!"

We made our first trip to Corpus Christi to Bibi and Grandaddy's house for Easter. While Jack is a good traveler and a veteran of I-35 S, having made many trips to San Antonio, this trip was twice as long and we had to leave on a schedule that had little to do with Jack's sleep habits and a lot to do with Daddy's work day.

Our strategy was simple: feed Jack loads and hope he sleeps. He is a fairly obliging boy and so he did all of the eating and *most* of the desired sleeping. Still, we didn't get in until almost 10. We found Nanny and Bibi waiting with baited breath and Grandaddy still working.

Jack, bolstered by a nice long nap in the car and by an adoring audience, turned on the charm and enjoyed hanging out with the grands for more than an hour. He smiled. He drooled. He did everything he could to keep us all at the table so that he wouldn't have to go to bed. He is his mother's son.

And for his final trick (and to wear him out) we put him on the table so that he could show Nanny and Bibi how he can inch himself forward by shear force of will, a few growls and grunts, and the heaviness of that sweet big head. He moved a whole foot before we knew it.

I'm looking forward to many years of cheering him on.

hurry bibi, many thanks sincerely...

we're so looking forward to your return to Austin! We promise we won't spill kool-aid on your new carpets or anything. just get back here fast!

Nanny the Great!

My mom always says that Nanny has a special relationship with every one of her grandchildren--that each of us would swear up and down that she really does like us best. She's right. (Except that I really am Nanny's favorite.)

Nanny has been "raising" grandchildren and now great-grandchildren for more than thirty-five years. All told, she has three boys and three girls. She's got at least three that are mechanical and at least three who could currently care less. (That's me and the two great grandbabies.) She's got three in Dallas and three that are a little bit farther flung. Ahem...she's only got one brown-eyed girl. (I told you I was the special one!)

Our time together--Nanny, Jack, and me--was an absolute treasure. Jack took to Nanny the way all her grands and greats do. He smiled and flirted and cooed and wooed her, determined that he would be her favorite, too. We laughed and cuddled and dressed him up. We ate and told stories and escaped for a couple of adventures. It was vintage Nanny time and Jack fit right in.

hit the road, jack.

Twenty ounces of milk. Twelve diapers. Six hours of running around. Three changes of clothes. Two diaper bags. One beautiful boy. And a really big cup of coffee.

Jack and I took our first road trip together yesterday--a quick jaunt to San Antonio to see Bibi and Grandaddy, who were both in town for work. We were anxious to get together even for a short time as I was sure that Jack had grown visibly in the three weeks since we had last seen my parents. Plus, he really does get cuter every day.

I am willing to out myself as a card-carrying member of over-packers anonymous. (There was the time I broke a toe dropping a 50 lb suitcase on my foot after dragging it six blocks and toting it down two flights of stairs. Of course, I only needed to lug it up two more flights of stairs, through a train terminal, on and off an Amtrak, onto a bus, and around two airports. With the foot. No sweat.) But I felt like I was reaching new heights as I packed us up for the afternoon. This is the thing, though: when you travel with a person who eats eight times a day, can't walk or talk, and may at any moment end up with bodily fluids all over his clothes...you just need lots of stuff.

We met up with Grandaddy at about 2 and headed to the hotel where Jack played and ate and slept and ate until Bibi arrived at 4!

Then we headed to Luciano's. Jack slept through the meal and only woke up at the end so that the mamarazzi and bibirazzi could get their fill of photos. There was a quick diaper change and then Jack and I were on the road again. We stayed later than we had planned, but it is hard to tear ourselves away from the grands.

Sweet boy made it to the Austin City Limits before he started to cry and then I couldn't wait to get home. We woke Daddy up when we got in. Then my big sleepy guy helped get my little sleepy guy into bed. Then a very sleepy mommy got to join in soon after.

Who knew that a trip to San Antonio could be such an adventure!

just ducky...

In the first ultrasound in which Jack looked remotely like a shadow of a fetus, he already had his hands to his mouth. My mom saw it and said he looked like a duck--a comment that my brother-in-law rightly pointed out only a mother could get away with. Sort of.

Despite my consternation that my mother thought my baby looked like a mallard, his nickname was "Ducky" even after we found out he was a boy, even after we picked out his name.

Though we don't call him Ducky much now
(something I'm surprised about really), we have lots of mementos of that time.

here's looking at you, kid.

Apparently, the family and friends who were waiting patiently at the hospital on the day that Jack was born had a betting pool to see who could guess his birth weight. Since the babies in my family are historically...ahem...larger (the first John Phillip weighed a reported thirteen pounds at birth), it didn't surprise me that the English side won the bet. Granddad Clive guessed 7lbs 8oz.

He invested his winnings in a bottle of champagne and we all toasted to Jack's good health on Christmas night. We celebrated his first Christmas and in my heart, I hope for one hundred more.