Archive for February, 2007

Best friends at teatime.

February 26, 2007

Sam enjoying his tea of stewed apple and brown rice yesterday.

Wednesday, 21 February 2007 12:06:37

February 21, 2007

Let’s see, what do I have to report? The poor boy has been suffering through his first cold but has still been an absolute delight throughout despite the green snot monster up his nose that is coating everything in a delightful goo that matches his bedroom walls.

He’s been in a good mood, very smiley and ignoring his discomfort mainly I think because he’s got a new trick which he likes to repeat over and over again. He can now stand up without having to be near anything for support. He is absolutely delighted with himself and will sit down, then stand up, sit down and then stand up. All the while he is screeching with joy and pride.

Another favourite pastime is to throw things. Throw toys out of the cot, fling his socks, trousers, shoes out of the play pen, drop his food, spoon and sippy cup from the high chair. He’ll then look down at the item, over to me and squeal. Of course like a complete mug I’ll retrieve it for him and within seconds it’ll be hurtling across the room again.

Yet, we’ve progressed a little from this scenario.

When Sam roams his nursery we place a heavy box across the doorway so that he is contained. He loves to stand next to the barrier looking out of his room, slapping the lid with his hands, screeching, and you’ve guessed it, throwing all his toys out into the hallway. Well, the other day while I was getting his dinner ready his chirpy screeching turned to gleeful shrieks. I went to investigate and there he was half perched on top of the box stretching down and reaching for a little plastic piggy. With a big effort he retrieved his toy and dropped back down into the nursery again, happy as a little boy who just got his toy back. Of course, he then chucked the piggy back over the box, grinned up at me, and merrily went to retrieve it once more. Clever Sammy.

Sam went exploring yesterday. For the first time since he was born the office is now clean, tidy and baby proof. I was able to fence off the dining room and kitchen, and with the bathroom and bedroom doors closed Sam was given a free pass to roam the rest of the house. He was so excited. He kept making a break for a doorway, stopping and looking back at me as if to say “Are you going to come stop me or what?!” He’d then pick up speed and disappear around the corner chortling to himself. Sammycam with my parents yesterday was fun, though I can’t imagine they saw much more than a blue and green stripy blur because he never stops moving anymore. I think they did get to see him perform his new standing trick several times and do a lot of walking around though.

Finally, Sam’s Injun name is Stinks Like Hamsters.

Full term

February 7, 2007

A little belated here but the 27th of January marked nine months of having little Sam with us. It’s also amazing to think that I carried him for that long before he was born.

At his doctor’s appointment his latest stats were recorded as:

weight: 17lb 4oz (7.82 kg)
height: 28 inches (71.2 cm)

Percentile wise his height was average. I can’t remember what his head circumference was but he was 15th percentile for that. He’s no big head. Once again the doctor didn’t even tell me how he related to the charts weight wise because he seemed to just scrape onto the bottom of the curve. She checked him over to make sure he has some fatty bits, gave him the thumbs up and just commented that he’s a healthy breastfed baby.

***

Genghis gets payback

There’s been a few times when we’ve taken the dogs for walks that Quincy has got in between Genghis and a lamp post and ended up a little wet. I think Quincy must have had words with Sam to get his own back because the other day I was changing the boy’s nappy, went to grab a fresh one from the dryer and returned to find Sam standing up in his cot. He had a big grin on his face and was sending a stream of pee through the wooden bars and arcing down onto Genghis’ back. Genghis isn’t even allowed into the nursery, and he knows it. Comeuppance.

***

Feeding a baby carrot soup is quite challenging.

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Last Wednesday Brandie organised a mum’s trip to the cinema to watch Dream Girls. The theatre was reserved for us, the lights were kept up and the volume lowered during the screening. The film was not my thing at all, pretty two dimensional and lame. I’m not sure that daddy would approve of the choice of film for Sam’s first cinema outing either, too much singing and not very manly! It was definitely a good afternoon out though and interesting to be watching the big screen from a vantage point on the aisle floor with a bunch of wriggly babies and toys everywhere.

***

Here’s Sam and Presley having a good time at the Grant Park playground last week. We also went to the zoo together yesterday and once we were done with all the animals we explored the fantastic pirate ship playground they have there. Both babies are beginning to toddle around now. For once Sam was even more interested in the slide than trying to stuff the chipped wood floor into his mouth.

There were more animals out at the zoo for us to see yesterday. The pandas restored my faith in the panda exhibit because both mum and dad were out and about munching on bamboo shoots and proving that they aren’t the stuffed lumps I was beginning to suspect. Little baby panda didn’t come out to see us but the two big guys were ample amusement for Sam and Presley who cracked up at the sight of the black and white shaggy beasts. Presley had been pretty miserable until that point and suffering through a snotty cold, but even she burst into giggles as the male panda tore bamboo apart and stuffed it into his mouth.

The otters were also out for the first time. They were a lot of fun to watch too. Nine sleek otters playing together and running all over the place is good times.

ON – On #13

February 3, 2007

Atlanta #1331

February 3rd 2007 – Skin Flute Pie with secret hare Little Willie

start: Wayfield Foods, Bouldercrest Drive

***
It seemed such a simple start location for me to find. Yet my easy route of “ah straight up Bouldercrest from East Atlanta Village” had me somehow entering a squishy hole in the space-time continuum, getting a bit lost, and pulling into the supermarket car park just as the Hash Cash had packed up and everyone was hopping from foot to foot, looking terribly chilly, somewhat pimply and ready to get the hell out of there.

I barely had time to rue the fact that if only I’d thought about it I could have returned that lost and lonely Wayfield shopping trolley that’s been hanging out as prime centrepiece in my white trash themed *cough* backyard since forever, and slam my hash bag into the back of someone’s truck before the hounds were off and chasing flour.

Speaking of garden ornaments, trail started off terribly scenically (with the emphasis on terribly) and led us straight down into some scrubby shiggy and over an awfully decorative trio of burnt out cars. I began to have minor anxiety about leaving my poor ride unattended.

With this area being a popular hash stomping ground, and with three hashes in as many days using the location, too often I found myself getting far too close to dodgy looking scraps of toilet paper in an attempt to forensically determine their age and establish whether they had been laid by Skin Flute. Incidentally, this led to a recounting of how Snot Rag got his name. Not the being laid by Skin Flute (at least as far as I know, but probably in his dreams) but the getting personal with toilet paper on trail…and then putting it back. Eeeuch!

Making a complete hash out of traversing a wire fence Martha declared that “if she had a time machine she wouldn’t be doing what she’s doing right now!”

On up the trail I staggered gloomily into a river crossing where the very gallant Piggy’s Bitch was being the spitting image of St Christopher and ferrying helpless lady hashers across the gushing murk. Politely declining a Piggyback ride myself, desperately I searched for alternative means to cross but eventually had to concede and get very wet.

Blazing a path down some railway tracks Martha was just saying that the one of the great things about hashing is that no matter how far behind you think you are someone will always give you hope by appearing from another direction entirely. Cue PWD intersecting our path, flanked by two female virgins like a hot (and very sweaty) dog in a bun. He had no idea where he was, where he had come from, or even if he was on trail. Get two ladies running in front of him and he completely loses his mind. Once he’s locked onto a pair of bottoms that’s it. He’s a goner, a happy one mind.

Running slowed to jogging and very soon even any pretense of jogging dissolved as I joined a growing congregation of hashers ambling along the trail that brisk winter afternoon. Sprinting suddenly seemed very appealing though when I found myself rambling along amidst a gaggle of women opening admitting that they sleep with their dogs. Indeed, I think it may have been at this point that the real four legged Portuguese Water Dog and his owner decided to make like the squits and run.

Martha deserves a slap for this quote overheard on trail: “speaking of big fat arses, I was just talking to Tasty Pie…”

Finally out of the shiggy and onto road we were puffing our way up a hill when the joyous words “Beer Near” could be heard echoing down into the valley. Excited, we quickened our pace only to see a group of deer charge across the road ahead. Booo! That was “Deer Near!”

Curious purple messages “Help Me!” and “Death to the hare!” were spotted amongst the flour as we stumbled on towards the On In, which we reached just in time to miss a dog fight. Despite the gnashing and strangle hold he endured, original PWD was unscathed and thus almost got renamed Tough Skin

With five runs under her shorts it was time to bestow a hash name upon Just Erica during circle. It was already quite unfortunate that her job involves building children’s playgrounds but when her mobile rang to the tune of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” you could see, and perhaps delight in, the look of doom crossing her face.

If Sleaze Puppy had had her strange, crazy and insistent way we’d have been welcoming “I want to be an eight year old boy” to the kennel. The most publishable and noteworthy suggestions bandied about were Blow’s Bubbles and Play On My Ground before consensus settled on Swinger. Lucky Swinger.

ON – ON!

Hounds:
High Dicker, Tripod, Supersuck, Piggy’s Bitch, Crack Pusher, Virgin Amanda, Virgin Jocelyn, Boner, Cooter Scooter (too long), Martha Screw-It, Dry Hole, PWD, Just Erica (5th), Coffee Bean, No Name Tosh, Dingi, Sleeze Puppy, Squat & Swallow, Landing Strip, Choose To Cum, Swamp Thing, Tasty Pie.