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Archive for September, 2010

Cape Town

Miles is my hero.  And not just because he looks good in tie-dye, uses a paper towel roll as a bugle, and turns a bib into a cape.  He’s funny and gracious and open and kind.  I’m not sure yet what his superhero power will be when he grows up.  Empathy?  Humor?  Subtle innuendo?  Car repair?

Hear ye, hear ye!

 

Another admirable trait: he has the best post-nap hair.  Check out this ‘do from last week.

Like you just stepped out of a salon...

And finally, a good shot of those two teeth he worked so hard to grow.

Look at those choppers!

I heart him.  I seriously do.  Sigh.

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Want another reason to be happy about Fall?  Well, in addition to abundant in-season apples and lower electric bills, I give you… overalls!  These two pairs are hand-me-downs from beloved cousins Matthew and Cash. 

All aboard!

Hey, what's going on outside?

Now, this was obviously a really quick blog entry.  Yet while I was working on it, Miles took the opportunity to catch up on a little paperwork.  Ahem. 

Organizing Mommy's cookbooks and recipes.

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Baby, You Can Drive My Car

We rented a car to go to a Yale-Georgetown football game this weekend.  Miles enjoyed the game and the car. (Not riding in the car, mind you.  Riding in the car he detested.  But exploring the car was quite pleasant.)

Football is serious. Duh.

Look how long his hair is getting.

Dude, change the station.

Zoom zoom.

And to those of you who knew me in college, when I probably would have shuddered at the idea of putting a boy in such a “boy” outfit, I have this to say. 

1. Blue was Yale’s color.   He wears other colors too.  Even pink sometimes!

2. It was a football game.  So a football outfit seemed appropriate.

3. He looks so durn good in blue.

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No Time for Words, So…

Woof woof.

Pensive.

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Exit Strategy

He’s getting smarter, my little one, and his stall tactics are getting more clever and intense. Lately Miles seems clued into the fact that I leave for work most mornings. The rattle of my keys as I pick them up from their dish or the sight of me packing a lunch have become signals indicating my imminent departure. This, it seems, is not good news. Miles has taken to burying his face in my knees and wrapping his arms around my legs — not so much to have me pick him up but in order to Stop. All. Forward. Movement. If I can’t move, I can’t leave, right? Recently he decided that unpacking my bag would also be a good maneuver in his quest to keep me home with him and Mommy. The visual evidence says it best:

Don't go!

I'll just take this out while she's not looking...

He sometimes cries when I leave, and on weekends if I go downstairs or outside for even a brief period he seems relieved and happily surprised that I come back so quickly. Leaving for work has never been so difficult, and not just because there’s a little guy wrapped around my legs.

Let's all stay home today!

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Connecticut Weekend

I’m way behind on the happenings.  This was two weeks ago now.  Whoops.  Blame it on Miles for being an almost walker or on me for taking his naps with him to catch up on my own sleep.  In any case, here you go.  We went to Connecticut for Lindsay’s birthday.  We went to an oyster festival.  Robin, Lindsay and Natalie cooked lobster for the first time.  Miles climbed up and down Lindsay’s steep staircase (holding our hands) about a billion times.  Sore legs from climbing stairs, sore face from smiling.  Happiness.

On the shuttle to the oyster festival.

"I'm freeeeee!"

 

A few of my favorite things.

 

Dinner fights back.

 

Long train ride home.

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Batter Up

Miles’ first summer wouldn’t have been complete without a trip to the ballpark, but as July turned into August and the weekend plans started to pile up, I began to wonder exactly when I’d get to take the little dude to his first baseball game. Then, Auntie Missy suggested we see the Mets play during her late-August visit. In a separate conversation a few days later, Auntie Lindsay mentioned that she was planning to go to a Mets game the same weekend. Perfect! Two of my favorite sports fan friends converging on CitiField on the same random Sunday in August? This had to be it.

Waiting on the subway

Sure, the Mets are all but out of playoff contention, and, yes, they were playing the lowly Houston Astros. But those factors have little to do with me wanting to take Miles to baseball games and other sporting events. My childhood was spent watching the Atlanta Braves of the 1980s, an era through which inept may be the most appropriate adjective to describe the ballclub. But Dale Murphy played centerfield, and my dad took us to a couple of games each year — spending more time driving us to and from the stadium than many of the games lasted themselves. Bob Horner (Goldilocks), Glenn Hubbard (like me on our little league team, he played second base), Bruce Benedict (for whom fans chanted “Bruuuuuuuuce” and made me think they were booing him) — this was the cast of characters I rooted for.

Watching with Missy

Admittedly, mine is a sports-crazed family. Both my parents were coaches, and we all played sports (still try to on occasion). But the fun of going to a baseball game is one even my non-sports-playing wife shares. When we moved to New York, she put her foot down: She wanted a home team to root for, and she wasn’t going to let my allegiances get in the way. After years of attending mostly National League games (when the Braves come to town) and being taught that the Yankees are the evil empire, she settled on the Mets. And so began my existential crisis. I could not adopt either team as my second favorite, as I had done with the SF Giants in college. The Yankees: 1996 World Series, enough said. The Mets: a division rival of my beloved Braves. Mathematically, every Mets win is bad for the Braves. But I want to take Miles to games and let him develop a love for his team’s cast of characters. The debate has raged among my friends: “teach him to be a Braves fan,” “let him cheer for the Mets,” “when he’s old enough he’ll decide, and he’ll probably like the Yankees just to spite you.” Bottom line, we’ll take the kid to games. And my affinity for the National League, combined with Mommy’s status as a burgeoning Mets fan, means we’ll probably take him to Mets games. Let the family rivalry begin.

A Mets fan?

Either way, as we enter the final month of the season, Miles’ first game is in the books, and he did remarkably well. He enjoyed the sounds and looking out on the field, and he managed a three-inning nap that even “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” did not disrupt. The Mets won the game, and they hit a homer, giving Miles his first view of the Big Apple that rises in centerfield to celebrate the feat (which is admittedly a thousand times more politically correct than the home run celebration of my 1980s Braves: Chief Knockahoma dancing around his teepee in the stands).

Getting into the game

Nap time

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