i'll fly away

i think he's starting to realize that his extremities are attached to his body. a couple of times i've caught him staring at his feet (and drooling), wiggling his toes as if to say, "are those mine?"
so we're going to virginia next week and i really need to start thinking about how it's all going to go down. it's kind of overwhelming me because just getting out the door to go to the grocery is a 45-minute ordeal and there isn't a
time deadline.
the time component is major factor because tayloe the husband and i have very different definitions of late. to me, late is when you miss the plane. to tayloe, late is arriving at the gate and you aren't the first person there and there's only time to read the entire october edition of vanity fair and eat a three course meal.
we've had such tribulations at airports in our married life that by the end of our time in d.c., we'd pretty much resolved just to meet each other at the gate once we'd parked the car.
i have kind of a funny mental image of how us catching the plane at LAX with the baby is going to go. i won't dwell on the details, but i'll bet we get there no later than 9 a.m. and i bet we look like the beverly hillbillies trapsing through the airport and i've even more certain that there'll be some "words" many of which will be off-color. i gotta just hope the baby is in a blissed out mood and snoozes through it all.
to get through it, im going to keep thinking about the attendant saying,"families with small children may board first." it'll be my moment of zen.

sleepy do

he's getting pretty good at putting himself to sleep. so good, in fact, that there are few things that'll keep him from drifting off when he really wants to zonk. he tries here to convince me that he's awake, but he just can't summon up the energy to keep up the act. it's kinda how i feel.
he's had a few longish naps today because i don't have the heart or umph to keep him up the way i usually do. i hope he has mercy and still sleeps a good long while tonight.
so did i tell you that bono sent us an autographed children's book? and inside it said, "John Tayloe, Welcome to Earth. There's a lot of work to be done. All the best, BONO." he dated it and drew a little bono face (i know it's a bono face because it's wearing sunglasses).
that should be an interesting thank you note, dontcha think?
tayloe the dad and i were both touched and felt pretty special, but now i'm stumped on the acknowledgement.
I get this far:
Dear Bono,
and then i just seems too weird. i know it'll get to him and i know it's the right thing to do, i'm just not sure really what to say except "hey man, thanks," but that doesn't come anywhere near filling up the white space on the card.
i guess i'll just say thanks and we'll be sure to let t2 know he's to save the world when he's old enough and i admire the work he's doing. i need to practice my penmanship so all of this is ledgable. i have terrible handwriting.
aaaaahhhh, the gremlin has awoken from his very short nap. and rightly so - it's nearly happy hour.

copy cat

little homey is a mimic. last week i stuck my tongue out at him and he did it back to me. since then, we've played this game pretty much every day, sometimes for more hours than seem natural. it's the funniest thing and makes me laugh over and over and over again.
today we went with tayloe to the latest ONE commercial shoot at raleigh studios in hollywood. i was a little nervous that t2'd be noisy cooing and gurgling like a gremlin, but he was so fascinated by the light and dark shadows and preoccupied trying to look cute for admirers that he stayed hushed most of the day. he got to meet alfre woodard and don cheadle. luckily, i'd prepped him earlier in the day, so he was able to speak smartly with don about what basher tarr has up his sleeve in the next 'ocean's' movie.
so, this is a little weird - everytime someone looks at him and says, "oh, look at his pretty hair," i feel compelled to tell them it's falling out. why do i do that? am i afraid they'll notice? am i trying to beat them to the punch? do i really think someone's going to say, "oh, cute baby but his hair is falling out. how sad."
it's just random jibby jabby chatter and i need to stop doing it.
i will no longer tell complete strangers that my son's hair is falling out.
i will no longer tell complete strangers that my son's hair is falling out.
i will no longer tell complete strangers that my son's hair is falling out.

spitty, spitty,everwhere

PHOTO GOES HERE (but blogger isn't working right)
i just dropped cathy at the airport, and i feel sad. her help was tremendous and i feel so lucky to have such a good friend. she washed dishes and cooked and took trash out and played with wolly and got me out to yoga and fed and washed and loved the baby and was, as always, highly entertaining and good fun to be around. she did it all. you know how it is when someone is so good to you all you want to do is be good back? that's how i feel.
anyway, having someone else around during the day to help take care of tay really shined the light on the regularity of his bodily functions. he's a slobbering, pooping mess. it gets worse as the day goes on so by nightfall he's usually a damp, powder-caked, spikey-haired wreck.
he projectile vomited on cathy and this morning he christened her with his manly powers. there's just nothing in the world funnier than having your son wee on your best friend. she took it like a champ, but i'll never forget lying in bed and hearing her whine, "ooohhhh gooooodddd, he's peeeing on me! CATH! he's peeeeeeiiiing on me!" good times.
john tayloe prince of santa monica is molting. it was just a matter of time before his hair started to fall out. and it has. every morning his little hairline is further and further back and it's starting to look as though he's wearing a toupe. left behind is a soft, downy layer of white hair. oh wait. it's mine that's turning white (er, gray). his, i guess, is platnium.
i think the whole process is going to take some time, so i fully expect that when he heads to virginia to meet the rest of his family, he'll have some kind of wild ass hairdo that's somewhere inbetween what it was and what it eventually will be. that'll make for some pretty christening pics, eh?

High School Revisited

First of all, this is Cathy Cooper writing, and Cathy Cooper has a little problem with "change." I prefer progress without changes. Catherine has been big on separating the two of us, Cathy Cooper and Cathy Lipp that is. Cathy Cooper can't believe her best friend has a baby- it's all so bizarre ya know? The last time I spent 5 days and nights with this girl, A: she was a teenager or early 20's at least and B: She's got some real knockers now. We decided it must have been either Camp Thunderbird or Keystone Colorado when we saw this much of each other, and man, Cathy Cooper is just a little freaked out. Where is the talk of clothes, boys, parties and fake ID's? I mean, DAMN- Cathy Leitch has a stroller that's worth more than my first car (Bug-a-boo?) In high school Cathy Cooper drove a 1987 2-door Ford Tempo....Thanks Elliott. And the last time I tolerated another man around for the whole time, I'm sure it was an ex-boyfriend who didn't like my Keystone campfire cooking style. True my relationship with T2's definitely better than some of those early love interests. Between Cole Dejarnette, Jason Woodle and Chad what's-his-last-name, I'll take this adoring little man any day. Oh Yeah, Cathy Cooper is feeling a little possessive and shell-shocked. Here, Cathy Lipp the well-adjusted-yoga instructor wants to write something.

Hello World! If you haven't met T2 yet, he's the sweetest, cutest, coolest baby! I'm in the camp of he looks quite a bit like his daddy, gonna be a hunk! So, my time here has been a whirlwind of cool activities. I love Santa Monica. I got a Porsche ride thru Malibu via big Tay, an interview on Fox News about the new hip soda "Cocaine," met a professional singer Shantal (LOVED HER!), tried Anti-War Yoga class, had dinner with someone who worked for HBO that almost knew as many movie lines as I do and a very interesting hike thru Hollywood. And lots of cuddle time with the new guy. Catherine Emery looks beautiful and sooo happy if not a little sleep deprived. Tayloe seems very connected with his new son and wife and immune to the craziness as he's zany enough to keep it all in perspective with a sense of humor and a story for everything. I'm going to sound a little like Cathy Cooper when I say that on some level I can't believe my best friend has a precious little baby. Jamie and I've got this picture in our guest room bathroom of she and I in 7th grade at her parents lake house on Lake Gaston, holding fishing rods and looking very tan (her) and lanky. I think she still looks exactly the same, so I just gotta factor in the newest guy. By the time he graduates from College of Charleston I'm sure I'll have gotten used to the fact that she's married. Namaste!

two months old

technically, not until tomorrow. but the latest stats are in:
10 lbs, 8 oz. 23 1/4 inches long.
the shots weren't so bad and the doc said she was amazed at how happy and alert he is. hopefully we won't have to go back there until the 4 mo. mark.
tayloe is off on a solo motorcycle adventure and my dearest friend cathy lipp is visiting from charleston, sc, so she and i are playing with t2, ordering indian and watching movies.
it's really not to far from how we spent our middle and high school friday nights, minus the baby. although, we won't be toilet papering any houses later or sneaking out to ramble rouse the neighborhood.

the things we say

you gotta feel a little bit sorry for him here, right? he's totally defenseless to my whims. i could dress him head to toe in pink and parade him around like a clown and he couldn't do a single thing about it.
i understand why adults need therapy.
i can't believe what loons we turn in to when it comes to entertaining this child. and the crap we say. for eg, here are some of the names we call him --
fussy bucket.
weird ear.
darth tater.
tay woah.
little guy. only we say it like this, "leet iill guy." and sometimes that morphs into, "supa fly leet iilll guy." and most times, we say these things over and over and over again, changing the inflection in our voice until we get a reaction. normally a whine.
this is the song i've been singing to him lately (it's not original. i ripped off a phish song) --
verse 1:we've got a baby.
cause we are a fam.
and we've got a baby in the fam.
verse 2:
we've got a dog.
cause we are a fam.
and there is a dog in the fam.
our fam is grand.
verse 3:
well, you don't need to know verse 3. you see where it's going. and honestly, verses three, four, five, six et al tend to be improv depending on my mood. in stressful times, for example, verse 3 goes
my back is killing me
cause you're getting heavy
and we've got tension in the fam.
some shots i could slam.
but there i go, telling you verse 3.
sometimes when i wake up i have this song in my head and can't get it out. i need a new song.
tomorrow t2 has his 2 month doc appointment and he's going to get stuck at least four times. i've been telling him all day it won't be bad and i'll give him some tylenol before we go and also that it couldn't possibly be as bad as the hospital stay or the emergency room (which i learned today cost our insurance $11K. ouch for them).
i'm bracing myself now for the screams. it hurts me already. my sweet baby supa fly leeet illl guy.

happy sad

see, i can't go back to work. who would take pictures and video of t2? wolly's a mess with a video camera. full time work is just going to have to wait.
he's happy. no, he's sad. no he's happy. no, he's sad. maybe he's just mad? what in god's name is going on in his little mind?
honestly the critters on his playpen look like the byproduct of a bad acid trip. i feel a little guilty just leaving him in there to sort it all out. he's the most vocal when he's lying there, but he also tolerates it for the least amount of time. 10 minutes and he's screaming bloody murder. THE BUGS ARE COMING! THE BUGS ARE COMING!
speaking of screaming bloody murder, we launched operation peaceful sleep last night. i can't believe how much time i've spent pondering my sleep/bedtime philosophy, but i had to get it straight in my head. otherwise, i become paralyzed by options and never really settle into any one thing.
before i was just hoping he'd get it on his own. he'd one night go to sleep and wouldn't wake up until morning. but i think the truth is that sleeping well, like everything else, has to be learned.
so here's the nut of it: bedtime should be a blissful happy time when we're all together. i'm willing to go the extra mile to help him learn this. so we nurse, bathe, read a book and then finish nursing. if he's not asleep we rock or nuzzle until he is. it's pretty much what we've always done (the book is new), just a little earlier. it works just fine.
what's different now, though, is what happens in the middle of the night. the days of me being a human pacifier are over. if it's a dire situation and nothing else will comfort him, ok. but he can comfort himself, i've seen him do it, and that's what i'd much rather have happen. a little late-night wailing never hurt anyone.
so last night he woke up at 1 a.m. he ate, got fresh pants and was rocked. everytime i put him down, he flailed around and whined, which lead to crying. i'd pick him up and let him nurse, but then the whole episode would repeat. eventually i'd just had it and rolled over and let him cry. after about 10 minutes i gave him a pacifier. he drifted right off. he woke again at 5:30, ate and went right back to sleep until 8:30.
hoepfully he won't fight it every night. hopefully eventually he'll learn to let his full belly and warm bed surround him and allow the snooze to take over.
is this too much boring information? sorry. but the thing is, healthy sleep is a big part of baby-ing. it's a vital part of a happy life, the start of every good day, so it ranks right up there with the most important things we teach them how to do.
all hail the zzzzs.

nano nanny

i can't stop taking pictures of t2 . it just never gets old cause to me he just keeps getting cuter. yes, i'm that mom.
i hired guatemalan mirna after knowing her for 5 minutes. she watches most of the kids on this block, has two boys and instantly took to tay. she also likes wolly and he likes her, so i knew it'd all be fine.
she got here on time, picked him up the minute she walked in the door and started talking to him in spanish. i'm not sure who i love more, her or t2. when we got home, he'd been fed, bathed and put to sleep. heaven.
but now for for the first time in a very long time, i'm kinda hungover. with a wine headache. ouch.
i guess between the magazine launch and a late dinner at casa del mar and being so overjoyed that we had a sitter we trust and not feeling at all guilty or anxious i just lost track of the cocktails.
on top of the headache, i have a very sore and i think broken baby toe. three days ago i jammed it into, of all things, the GD diaper trashcan. i taped it to the toe next to it and i've been limping around just toughing it out since then. yesterday we walked to the farmer's market and it was feeling ok so i think i thought i could handle the heels i wore last night.
the trouble with me sometimes is i just don't know when to quit. i have some perfectly lovely flats that would have looked just as nice. instead, i limped around looking like i (1) had no idea how to walk in heels and (2) like i'd either had a raucous night in the sack or i hadn't fully recovered from child birth.
i know, if nothing else, how to make an impression.

i am not prepared

isn't this a cute photo? that's our best good friend pete (who, along with uncle geoff are t2's godfathers) and tayloe strolling the babe in venice. maybe i meant to type strolling for babes. if only i hadn't been tagging along. and if only, um, they didn't look kinda gay.
anyway, we had good times with pete who was here for a few days this week. the most fun thing about having a baby i've found is sharing him with the people we love.
a brief word on the name game: we're just calling him tay or tayloe. it just seems to fit for now. also, i've banned formula from our house unless it's an extreme and dire emergency (such as i'm dead), but more on that some other day.
i was in whole foods on thursday and i heard a little boy talking to his mother about expiration dates on power bars. she was scrounging around trying to find the ones that would last the longest. i thought that was kinda psycho, but then i heard her explain to her boy that she was buying them to go into a earthquake preparedness box for their family.
earthquake preparedness box. hm.
then, later that day i was at a friend's house and as she was giving me a tour of the room she just decorated for her 10-month old, she noted that she didn't hang anything over or near the child's bed because of earthqakes.
someone's trying to tell me something.
of course, i'm generally not prepared for anything. it's kind of my m.o. i worry about stuff only when doom seems imminent. it's sunny and beautiful everyday in los angeles, so i don't especially feel as though the end is nigh.
but la county isn't exactly a low-risk zone. so i gotta read up. the weird and scary thing about an earthquake is that it just hits without warning - middle of the day, middle of the night, while you're on the freeway or on a bridge or taking a walk or on the toilet. there's just no telling. they're evil that way.
my mission this weekend (or early next week) is to get us stocked. water, dry goods, flashlights and batteries and trashbags and dog food and probably (definately) a big bottle of whiskey and maybe (absolutely) some smokes and some sleeping pills.
for the first time in my life, i'm going to try to be ready for something. maybe this will 100 percent guarantee that an earthquake won't happen as long as we're here.

not all smiles

oh sure, he smiles a lot and is happy most of the time. but when he frowns, he gives it his all. a face like this takes 110 percent.
it's debatable whether he's really sad here or if he's just upset that his dad is wearing a velvet track jacket.
for kicks, let's assume he's actually upset.
are we supposed to take him seriously? if this is his 'please take me seriously' face he's really got some work to do because all it makes us do is laugh. that's probably going to really make him mad when he gets older.
today i'm going to meet a woman who may become our babysitter. i don't feel especially hyper about hiring someone or about leaving him with whomever i hire. i think if she speaks moderately understandable english, knows how to put a diaper on and isn't creepy i'll probably sign her up. in fact, i'm hoping to enlist her for this saturday night so tayloe and i can go to a party thrown by a magazine i hope to start writing for.
hi. nice to meet you. here's our son. have a nice time.
it probably won't go so smoothly, though. in fact, i'm going to go ahead and assume that the hiring-a-babysitter process is way more complicated than i think it is because just about everything about having a baby has turned out to be way more complicated than i thought it was.
getting my day started, for example. for some reason, i can't seem to get my shit together before 11 a.m. we wake up. i have to eat. he eats. wolly demands ball throwing. there's usually a fit somewhere in there (either me or him). i get sidetracked by laundry or 'the view' or cleaning something and before i know it half of the day is gone and i haven't gotten dressed or brushed my hair. because of this, i can't accept any invitations or assume any real responsibilities before noon.
i realize i've probably lost my mind, but my solution to this is to start putting him to bed earlier at night so he wakes up .... earlier. jesus. i can't even believe i want that to happen.
part of me is reluctant to change his schedule up because we've pretty much got it down and it works for the most part. the other, smarter part of me knows that it doesn't really matter because in a couple of weeks (days?) he'll change it up himself and i'll be left in a fangle trying to catch up.
so this time i'm going to beat him to the punch.
yes. i know. i'm only kidding myself. but hush. just let me believe, if only for a moment, that i'm in control.

they meet.

soon enough t2 is going to own the floor so i figured he and wolly should become better acquainted. 'ol wolls hasn't done too bad making room for the baby, but i think that's because he still has the floor. when the shit hits the fan, he can hide in the laundry room or in the corner of our bedroom and he knows he's pretty much safe. he's going to be very, very bummed when those days end if he doesn't have some warning first.
we let wolly near tay on a regular basis. mostly wolls just comes over and licks his face, sniffs and then walks away.
he gets it. he doesn't like it much, but he gets it.
tay usually closes his eyes when wolly gets close, so i think maybe he didn't fully realize that we have a dog. maybe he just thought his dad was giving him an especially wet kiss.
but today it all came together in a very big way.
here's what i think t2 is thinking:
um, what is that?
if that's our dog, he's much bigger than i thought.
woah man, does he look bigger from down here.
he's very very big, maybe the biggest dog ever.
he isn't getting any smaller.
what's this i'm sitting in? it's not a chew toy, is it? mom, am i sitting in a chew toy?
i'm going to just (hiccup) keep (hiccup) my eye (hiccup) on him.
here's what i think wolly's thinking:
great. this is just g-r-e-a-t.

and there's more

little guy's latest love is flying. he holds his head up with purpose and gets all bright eyed. he also drools a lot. in this award winning video, my dad acts as the engine.

i'm zonked

i've always thought my dad had a particularly calming quality. obviously, our son thinks so too.

poppy 101

my favorite people. my dad arrived just in time to catch the final phase of t2's cold - the most becoming phase i might add. lots of sneezes and snots and coughs. still, he made time to look cute. videos 'a comin'.

babyland

i could take a million pictures like this and never get tired of them.
i looked around our house today and realized that tayloe the baby has just about taken over. he's everywhere. the final straw was a playpen which takes up a large amount of living room space. i sat here looking at it, trying to think of a way to make it blend a little more and realized it was just pointless. there just isn't a way to make a bright blue playpen with a multi-colored caterpillar, orange tweety bird and blue frog hanging from it mesh with our decor.
so we're just hanging out, me and him, because tayloe's in toronto for the film festival. we're having pizza and celebrating our first 24 hours alone together. we spent the first 8 hours on the couch asking each other what we should do. i wish i'd asked tayloe for a review of dvd player operating instructions. i could just start pushing buttons until something works, but usually when i do that i break something.
tomorrow we'll need to get out of the house. i have a big plan in my head for us to walk to the farmer's market in the morning before my dad arrives. we need to walk because i think i may have eaten close to 15 small chocolate chip cookies while tay was having his mid-afternoon meal. he was munching and i started munching and zoning out and before i knew it 15 minutes had passed and the cookie bag was considerably lighter.
the trouble is most of the time my big plans and his big plans don't jive. i think, "let's walk to starbucks and take wolly to the dog park." he thinks, "let's sit on the couch, watch the today show and then poop our pants!" he usually wins.
latest stats: weight - 9 lbs, 13 oz. length - 23 inches.

swinger

my boys

we're just a little excited.

look out

i know how to youtube. expect videos galore. especially since it's nfl kickoff and the steelers are playing. homeboy has his jersey on. stay tuned for pics.

all better

thank gawd we're out of the hospital. there really isn't much worse in the world than being cooped up in a small airless room with a sick baby for three days. it's a special kind of hell.
luckily, i think we have the most patient child in the world and he hardly complained - i, um, wasn't as good. i had to dig deep and find my warm safe place.
the very worst thing was the high pitched beeping noise the IV machine made when it was done. it'd fire off every two hours just as i drifted off to sleep not at all phasing the baby but sending a piercing jolt through my body and instantly spurring hot sweats. i have deep empathy for torture victims now.
the most fun thing about being married to tayloe is his sense of humor and it really peaks in front of an un-suspecting audience. nurses are just about the most un-suspecting audience there is, especially the pediatric kind, because i think they expect parents to be very serious and concerned and such.
tayloe had an especially good time with penny, who believed pretty much everything he said, including (1) he wasn't tay's dad, (2) he wasn't my husband (3) we weren't sure who tay's dad was, (4) i'd had 6 husbands, and (5) he was the secret sultry lover of the crocodile hunter who just died.
on the way out, a sweet, small asian lady helped us with our things.
tayloe: "whoa, honey. i sure hope we can get all of this on the motorcycle."
no reaction, so he tried again.
tayloe: "this is a lot to put on the MOTORcycle, but i think we'll manage. t2 will just have to sit on the handle bars."
asian lady: "you ride bike?"
tayloe (pleased): "oooh yes. i ride the big bikes. bmw right honey? and this is going to be a particular challenge but i think we can do it. right honey?"
asian lady: "you'll put all this on bike?"
tayloe: "yessss sireee. it'll be fine. we don't have far to go."
asian lady: "hmmm. you might have to come back for wife?"
tayloe: "now that's a good idea. kitty, you just hang out. you don't mind staying here another hour or so do you?"
asian lady (concerned): "you really ride bike? (to me) he ride bike?"
me: "no. no. we have a car with a car seat and everything. we're driving a car."
asian lady (confused now): "you have car and bike?"
me: "tayloe. explain to her that we have a car."
tayloe: "well we have a hummer."
asian lady: "ooohhh, a hummer."
me: "no, no. we don't have a hummer. we have a volkswagen".
tayloe: "no we have a hummer. remember? you gave me that hummer a few days ago..."
there was more, but those are the highlights.

the ickiest weekend

we've had the most unfun 48 hours possible. friday evening, t2 was acting funny. not funny ha-ha. funny sick. his head was hot and he wouldn't eat. he had a temperature.
here's something i didn't know: a temperature over 101 is a pretty serious thing in an infant. his was just above the danger mark. by 9 p.m. we were knee-deep in emergency room doctors going ape shit over our son. little guy was getting poked and pricked and prodded all over. because he can't sit up and say, "hey parents, i have a headache but otherwise feel ok so lets just go home," they have to assume the very worst. assuming the very worst means doing all kinds of tests for the very worst, which of course meant me assuming the very worst (recall janundice).
i spent friday night and a good part of saturday in a code red heightened state of worry intensified by a young resident who got me uber hyped up about infection and death. it took a good hour, some stupid tayloe jokes and one long phone call to our pediatrician for me to regain sanity.
in our relationship, i'm most often the mellow one. traffic jams, getting lost, long lines - i can pretty much take it and go with the flow. all these things make tayloe bonkers. however, when it comes to trouble with our son he transforms into the dalai lama. i'm not as helpful. i become an irritating mix of an overactive puppy and the worst girlfriend you've ever had.
it's one of my 'needs improvement' areas.
we're on the eve of night three in the hospital. he's still being pumped with antibiotics, but the last 18 hours little tay has been 100 percent better with nothing more than the sniffles. all his blood tests have come back negative. his spinal fluid is fine. he's alert and charming and cute as ever. hopefully he's forgotten all the madness he went through on friday night and just focusing on knocking out what seems to be nothing more than a cold.
other than the constant waking, the stale air, the other screaming kids and the processed food, the hospital isn't really too awful. i haven't so much minded having a nurse at our beck and call. the meals are unimaginative and bland, but at least someone else is making them and cleaning up the mess.
plus, the nurses adore him. they ga-ga over his hair and his lips and his sunny disposition. they coddle and snuggle him. i woke up at 4 saturday morning to find a nurse in the corner of our room rocking him. "he's just so sweet," she said.
so yeah, on a scale of 1 to 10, this weekend gets a 0 on the fun scale.
but because i like to make chicken salad out of chicken shit (it's how i balance being manic and over anxious in the midst of crisis) i see the silver lining.
it's this: we've gotten to know our son in the last six weeks. we knew enough to know he was sick and we know enough to see that he's better.
when i look at him., i think he knows now that we're aren't just two freaky people he got stuck with. i think he knows that we'll take care of him, that he can feel safe with us, that we love him.