The Proof is in the Potty and Other Current Events

Well since our return from spring break in Texas time has flown by! Every time Owen awakes from a nap he is literally bigger. We couldn't really understand this phenomenon except for the fact that he is nursing through most of his naps and the night, so it is indeed conceivable that he awakes bigger or at least with a fuller diaper.

Owen has had such an eventful month that I'm not even sure where to begin. Here is just a brief list of his activities over the past several weeks. I think we might have to save this list for future evidence incase he ever makes the claim that he didn't ever do anything fun as a kid.  Yes we are already anticipating the future parenting challenges where we will no longer be the most exciting, wonderful, and cool parents ever. As of now, our ability to blow raspberries and play peekaboo hold us in high regard with the little guy. That and I'm the lady with the milk.

Over the past month, Owen went to:

1.  Joni's 30th birthday in Los Angeles, an elite event for baby hipsters complete with Martha Stewart inspired tree decorations and designated stroller parking. Owen got to hang out with his best bud Noah, where they swapped strategies for sleep resistance I'm sure one of them learned through a back channel from a baby with connections in the Bush administration.  Yes sleep deprivation is a form of torture. Ask any mom with a teething baby. The day was capped with the boys nursing as the warm April day turned dusky and cool.  We then headed back to the Surette-Nelson pad where Noah and Owen shared a tubby, and yes, we have the pictures for future blackmail.
2. World Cultures Fair at San Diego City College. Owen has become a regular at mom's campus events, where he already has a following of groupies. Owen especially loved the latin drummers and dancers. He bounced his legs as he had an afternoon snack provided by mom. Once he was done nursing, he was thumping along to the music while I held him up standing.  We can pray at this point he developed from some recessive gene a sense of rhythm, but I'm a glass is half empty kind of realist, so the odds are not in his favor based on his pairs lack of dancing ability. 
3. The next day-Earth Fair.  Owen and I learned all about the different types of Terns from the volunteers at the Famosa Slough booth and promised we would come for a clean up day soon, since the Slough is literally in our backyard.  Owen made a dashing impression in his Kermit the Frog "It's Easy Being Green" organic onsie from his great grandma Joan and his bowler hat. We got organic heirloom tomato and squash seedlings from the college's garden and planted them in pots on the balcony. Considering Laila's track record for eating our vegetation during emotional distress (this is was the fate of last years tomatoes, squash, green beans, two avocado trees Drew grew from seeds, and a rosebush). I'm also not so optimistic, but Owen likes watering and observing their growth while they remain in the natural world.
4. San Diego Art Walk in Little Italy. I would officially say that Owen missed most of this event since he spent the majority of the time either snoozing or chowing down under my nursing cover, although he did take in some of the art and people watch.
5. First visit to a fine restaurant. After the art walk, we headed to Balboa Park where we ate dinner at the Prado. Owen didn't choose to cooperate with the fine dining experience, and I spent most of the time walking the perimeter of the outside patio nursing him watching Drew eat my dinner from a distance. It could have been nice.
6. Body Works show. After dinner we headed to the Body Works show at the Natural History Museum, one of those traveling exhibits with all of the preserved cadavers.  Owen was really fascinated by it. Although, he was confused as to why the people he was talking to didn't talk back. He also liked the echo of his own voice in the large halls. Owen has since returned during his daily visits to Balboa park with his grandma Eleanor, and he was interested in different aspects of the exhibit on his second trip.
7. Almost weekly weekend trips to Los Angeles.  Owen has become a true trooper when it comes to the almost weekly trips we have been making to Los Angeles.  A combination of factors have been pulling us up on the weekends.  Drew and my brother Neil are starting a t-shirt company and have had a lot of work to do. Check out www.adrenlnindustries.com or find them on facebook. I have been going to see the chiropractor I have been seeing since childhood to fix my bulging disk since I haven't been able to find a decent one in San Diego. And then there was the recent addition to the equine family. Yes that's right, my mom bought Owen a pony.  We haven't posted the pictures yet, but promise to do so soon. Miss Misty Star, that's what happens when three people name a pony, is a handful, but we've never had a horse that wasn't, so there's nothing new there. She and Owen have already begun their love affair. Her favorite game is run away and chase me, but when Owen is at the fence she comes right up to him. When Grandma Eleanor was riding her she bucked and hopped, but when Owen was on her back for a cruise around the neighborhood she was a careful as she could be.  Owen loved every minute of it, as he happily babbled and drooled. He alternated clutching her mane and attempting to lean forward and much her withers.
8. Cinco de Mayo. Owen loved watching the beautiful flowing skirts of the dancers at City College's festival. 

Owen's other developments include rolling around and inching round on his tummy. He is really serious about figuring out this crawling thing. He continues to babble non-stop, some of it more intelligible that others. I'm "Mim." Drew is "Da." Grandma and Grandpa are "Gra." And Laila is "Laila." We have been trying to teach Owen to say "Puh" for potty since he is learning how to use his little potty. 

Yes that's right. A week before he turned 5 months, Owen began regularly using his little potty. You can look at our Flickr account if you don't believe us, and yes you know who you are you doubters.   Some may argue we are setting up Owen for years of therapy or some deep-rooted Freudian issues, but there is actually a lot of research suggesting that infants can use the potty long before they are conventionally potty trained.  We didn't know any of this when we got him a potty. We just figured since whenever we took off his diaper he peed, we would get him a little potty and put him on it.  This was two weeks ago and he generally pees in his potty 7-10 times a day. Sometimes the stats are much lower.  We have had lucky stretches where he goes with a dry diaper all afternoon and will wake up from long naps or at night with a dry diaper and head straight to the potty, but he still has plenty of wet diapers, which is fine. We are still learning his cues, and we don't always make it there in time.  The biggest challenge is convincing him that it is okay to go pee before nursing when he wakes up. He is convinced it a ploy to starve him, but if he pees first he'll keep his diaper dry otherwise he ends up peeing while he nurses.  We have a very low stress attitude about the whole thing.  Drew after all learned positive reinforcement training with his work during the dolphins, which is what we use, but Owen's own greatest reward is in the pot. He loves to look at how much pee or poop is in it and watch it get poured in the big potty. Interestingly, he has pooped exclusively in the potty minus one time when we were out since we got the potty. This certainly makes cleaning cloth diapers a bit easier. Grandma Eleanor keeps an extra little potty in her car for Owen to use on their daily trips to Balboa park.  Owen is becoming quite a regular on the museum circuit. He has officially been to more museums there than Drew or me.

When Owen was in Texas, he was in the throes of teething hell.  At least it was probably hell for the people stuck on a plane listening to him scream. It made us sad that he wasn't as outgoing and happy as he usually is and he was much clingier than normal. Since our return, the teething had stopped and we had a merciful reprieve from the fussiness, although the chewing and drooling remained constant.

Only this past Thursday did the teething return, but for some reason right now Owen is sleeping his first quite night in days, which is why you are able to read this marathon blog posting dear reader.

Well there is more to report, but it the clock is about to strike midnight, and I might actually turn into a pumpkin if I don't go to sleep so I can get up and grade papers and teach in the morning in addition to all of my mothering duties. I am happy to report that I a spoiled by grandma Eleanor who makes the coffee and my almond butter toast in the morning while I am in the shower. Although, without her help I probably would just starve and would have lost 5 lbs by now so it is a toss up.  

I hope I will have time to write more soon and continue to update on our precious, precious angel.  His laugh might be single-handedly responsible for the melting of the polar ice caps. It is that great. I swear it turns even the most frigid into cooing puddles.

Puppy Love

Well it has been a hard, long, lonely four months for Laila as she adjusts to becoming a big sister, especially since Drew had his surgery and I hurt my back, which has substantially decreased her visits to dog park and beach.  As of late, Laila has had to count on the mercy of visiting grandmas to get walks and beach visits, but as this picture clearly demonstrates, she and Owen are quickly falling in love.  

How much does he weigh?

You may be asking yourself as you scroll through the pages of our flickr photos, "How much does that little tubby weigh these days?" I can report that in a very unscientific method of Dad standing on the bathroom scale with Owen that he weighed 15lbs a week and a half ago, which means who really knows how much Owen weighs now. The one thing the pictures prove is that we clearly have no breastfeeding issues, unless you consider me wishing I had a life outside of breastfeeding an issue-Owen certainly doesn't think so. And don't worry we're not those overly sensitive new parents who will freak out if you discuss our kid's chub, as long as we keep the discussion of chub focused on Owen and not his mom. 

We've Got More Guilt than a Catholic School Girl

Hello friends and family and fans and followers of Owen-

Well we admitted at the beginning of this adventure in parenting that Drew and I were a bit of deadbeats when it comes to taking pictures. We have reformed our record a bit, but haven't been much better at adding them to the flickr account. In our defense, since we last posted pictures or blogged at the beginning of February, we got married in Vegas; flew to Alabama to visit Drew's grandparents and aunts, uncles, cousins; Drew had major surgery and spent a week in the hospital; Annaliisa developed a pinched nerve in her back which renders her domestically useless; Drew has been slowly, painfully recovering with a cast up to his armpit (screws, pins, and all); Annaliisa has been teaching the masses to read, write, and think- this is also a painfully slow process; and we spent spring break, Easter, and Drew's 25th birthday (yes I know this makes me a cougar) in Houston with a good-old fashioned crawfish boil; and now it is the middle of April and Owen is bigger than ever and we are enjoying every minute of his development. He is a non stop chatter box, drooling, constant teether sometimes crabby teether, and so busy he is ready to go somewhere in a hurry.

We have added lots of photos of Owen to our flickr account and promise to put up more soon.

The Great Race ... to the Altar!

Here is our wedding story ... a bit late!

For those of you who know Drew well, spontaneous is probably one of the top five adjectives that you could use to describe him.  He has more than once in our two years together decided on a Saturday morning that we should go camping or drive to Mexico.  In fact, he would like to bring his mountain and road bike and climbing and camping gear everywhere with him just incase he has the chance or opportunity to do one or all of these activities.  

So it is only in retrospect that it became abundantly clear that I should have known that the only way Drew and I would get married would be on the spur of the moment.  We decided Friday and got married Saturday, and Drew's parents, grandmother, and brother get a thousand gold stars for jumping on a plane (his parents and grandma from Houston and David from Denver where he was rock climbing) just hours later to be there. My parents and Aunt Maryanne and cousin Noelle and her fiance Rick were also there, but they only had to drive from Los Angeles.  My brothers would have been there, except as Nicholas put it best, they needed more than 24 hours notice to attend one in a lifetime (twice in my case) events (they had prepaid Valentine's Day plans).  My grandmother and Uncle Tom made out best in this hair-brained scheme since they live in Las Vegas.

It was Friday the 13th and after taking the baby to the doctor for his check-up and the dog to the vet for an ear infection and picking up the jeep from getting its brakes done, we decided to get married in Vegas the next day. If that isn't romantic enough, while Drew and Owen took a nap and Laila jumped on and off the couch hopped up on pain killers for her ear, I booked our wedding chapel reservation on-line. We would get married at the same chapel my brother and cousin got married.  There is also a long list of celebrities who have been married there (most recently notably Billie Bob and Angelina) but we all know how long those marriages lasted. 

Saturday morning we loaded up the dog and baby in the Jeep and made the brave 6 hour trek across the desert. Drew called his entire phone book breaking the news as I drove. At one point, we contemplated being stranded until retirement somewhere that made Baker look like a booming metropolis when Owen had a screaming fit and decided he was done with mommy and daddy's wedding weekend.  It was right about then that I perfected the art of breastfeeding while hovering over Owen's carseat (be advised fellow breastfeeders this is probably the technique that helped me develop a pinched nerve in my back).

By the time we arrived in Vegas, it was afternoon and we went straight to the Clark County Clerk's office where we got our marriage license.  They had lines set up around the building like a Disneyland ride to accommodate all of the couples getting hitched in Sin City on V-day (open 24 hours from Friday through Sunday).  We of course were the only ones in line with a baby, but Owen wasn't the only child there to celebrate mom and dad's wedding.  One couple was there with their two children to get remarried after their previous divorce.  

With marriage license in tow, we headed to grandma's house (wedding central). After two trips to the airport (thanks to my Dad!), everyone had arrived. Owen got to meet his great grandma Joan and was surrounded family.  At one point I realized that Owen had three grandmothers hovering over him while I changed his diaper.

After this brief respite, we were off to the mall to find me a wedding dress. That's right, just hours before our 11 pm nuptials Drew, Owen and I were off to the mall to try to find me a dress. It is about this time that I started to regret postponing my postpartum diet.  Never did I imagine I would be weaving my baby and stroller through shoppers and dress racks at a frantic rate trying to find a wedding dress that would not only accommodate a nursing bra but post-baby pudge.  With no time to spare, we grabbed some pizza to go and power jogged out of the mall and into the Jeep in Vegas Strip traffic.

Once we were checked in at the Tropicana (the only hotel on the Strip that had a room last minute-besides the Venetian that had a $5,000 a night suite), we had 20 minutes to shower and dress before we left in the limo for the chapel.  And mercifully Owen slept through all the chaos.  

We then arrived at the chapel and waited for my parents to arrive.  And then we waited some more.  Even though my brother had been married at the same chapel somehow my parents managed to get lost. Even worse, they had my blind grandmother as a back seat driver. As she explained, "I don't have to be able to see to know the difference between a left turn and a right turn!" Drew nervously checked his iPhone.  If they didn't hurry up, we weren't going to get married on Valentine's day.  We sat in the gazebo in the chilly night air, while Drew's grandmother stayed toasty in the limo.  Several couples got married ahead of us as we waited (about 15 minutes).  Even in the middle of the night, there was a steady line of the too young and inebriated getting married on Valentine's day in Vegas.  Our Little Chapel of the West married more than 80 couples in that one day. As I recall, we were the 86th.  

Eventually grandma's car pulled into the parking lot.  It had hardly come to a stop, when I saw my father jump out and race to the chapel doors.  We of course weren't in the chapel yet. The couple ahead of us was, and if he hadn't eventually heard us shouting then he wouldn't have barged in on their wedding.

Well from there those of you who watched our wedding via webcam know the story.  It was about 2 minutes long, our pastor looked like Chubbs in Happy Gilmore, and the memorable moment was when he said that it was time to exchange the rings, and Drew and I turned to him and said, "We don't have any rings!" But then Drew pulled a loner ring from my grandmother out of his pocket and smiled and gave his vows to me. I didn't get to give Drew my vows since I didn't have a ring, I guess. And in a flash it was over. We were Mr. and Mrs. Wilson! 

Back at the Tropicana, Mom stayed in the hotel room with Owen who had incidentally slept until right before the ceremony when the usher tried to move his stroller out of the aisle.  He chugged a bottle in Aunt Maryanne's lap through the entire ceremony.  

After the wedding, Drew and I wandered around the strip for a couple hours, shared Krispy Kream Donut holes (our wedding cake of sorts), and at 4 am when Owen was waking up for his next feeding we headed back to our room.

We snuggled in bed the three of us, a legal family as sanctioned by the State of Nevada, exhausted and fulfilled. We had just completed the Great Race to the Altar and were beginning the next phase of the rest of our lives, a family forever.

The Weigh In

While we were at the doctor for my check up today, we weighed Owen. With his diaper and clothes on, he weighed 12 pounds and 7.9 ounces.  And of course he is nursing while I type this.

The Hungry, Hungry Baby Gremlin

Owen two weeks ago demonstrating some serious chub. In his defense, it is a very unflattering angle.

Owen smiling in the bath with Dad this weekend

When Owen was born at 7 pounds 1 ounce, I thought perhaps he would be a lean baby like his cousin Lucienne.  His legs were even too skinny for the newborn diaper covers that were meant to fit the tiniest babies.  Well that is certainly no longer the case. As you might have read in our previous blog entry, Owen has replaced sleep at night with marathon nursing sessions that have resulted in some serious chub. We all swear that he actually wakes up from a nap fatter. How is this possible?  He is nursing the entire time he is sleeping, which means that mom is not sleeping at all. I usually pride myself in learning my students' names right away, but this semester I don't seem to have the brain cells to remember much of anything, let alone 60 names.  It now appears that Owen will take after Drew in the chub department.  I wasn't a skinny baby either. The neighborhood kids called me Cheeks.

We call him a gremlin because the entire time he is nursing and sleeping he makes these guttural/nasal grunting noises that sound like a gremlin munching electronics in the middle of the ngight.  This doesn't bother me since I have already abandoned the hope of sleep at night, but Drew and Laila aren't fans of this development.  

Owen is gooing and giggling up a storm these days. He wakes up with the biggest smile on his face cooing, unless he's famished. In that case, he will cry "nuh! nuh! nuh!" or "hungeeeee!"  which of course we translate into "nurse" or "hungry." Yes this may be a creative leap, but my mom swears that he is saying nurse or hungry, but the skeptic should keep in mind that she sees faces in banana bites and any number of animals in the contours of clouds. No she doesn't take psychedelic drugs, in case you were wondering. She's just an artist.  It's where I get my flare for the dramatic.

For all the sleepless nights, you would think that Owen is sleeping all day, but in fact he isn't.  Mommy was a serious nap resister, and at 9 weeks Owen has started a grass roots organization to unite with babies everywhere to resist the oppressive sleep regimens imposed by weary parents. Vive le resistance. Their logo is of the single baby fist raised in defiance from the prison bars of the crib.  

In all seriousness, Owen began his radical education (sorry republican relatives) by attending two lectures this past week given by Keith Harmon Snow, who has been working as an independent journalist and human rights witness in the Congo.  His work can be found at www.allthingspass.com and more information about the Ugandan genocide and civil war in the Congo can be found at www.cegun.org.  Unfortunately we learned that these conflicts are being fueled by Western corporate interests.  I am hoping to have my English classes this summer do a service learning project with the Campaign to End Genocide in Uganda Now, which ties in perfectly with the global reader and its emphasis on colonialism and globalization that I currently use.  

In other news, we are still waiting for Drew's surgery to be scheduled. Will keep everyone posted.  

Mom Goes Back to Work-Grandma to the Rescue

Well ... as I am sure I could start out any of our blog entries, the past few weeks have been busy.  Owen is growing at a rapid rate. We don't know how much he weighs since he doesn't go back to the doctor until next Friday. I could stand on the scale with him, but that would require me standing on the scale, and as curious as we are about just how fat he actually is, I'm not curious enough to also find out how much I weigh. 

 

The biggest developments over the past few weeks are that Owen is now a smiling giggle monster (more on his monster-like features later) and I went back to work with the start of the spring semester January 26.  As fellow moms reading this know, it has been a challenging two weeks on all accounts.  This transition, however, has been bearable because my mom Eleanor has generously packed her hybrid with a week's supply of cookies, clothes, and Greek & Japanese language CDs, books, and dictionaries and made the three hour drive to San Diego on Sunday nights to spend the work week with us taking care of Owen while I am at school and helping out in the mornings and evenings so that I can prepare my lectures.  And this isn't because she doesn't have a full life of demands at home including my dad (he accounts for many layers of demands: emotional, professional, and making frequent pots of coffee) a 2 acre garden threatening to overtake the house and neighborhood, 2 geriatric horses that regularly try to die and are the bane of our geriatric vet, 4 spoiled kitties, and a barking dog that rubs the last nerve of the litigious neighbor who should have never moved to the country. After rereading that description, perhaps her time with us isn't that altruistic after all.  

In all seriousness, we are so blessed to have her help.  On the eve of me returning to school (I teach mornings Monday through Thursday) Owen decided to stop sleeping at nights, so some days he doesn't even know that I am gone because he sleeps right through it--it's exhausting staying up all night!  But even if he sleeps through it, Owen and grandma spend their mornings in Balboa park, an amazing park located north of downtown San Diego in the heart of the city.  My college campus backs up the park, so they drop me off and then park and wander through the gardens and numerous museums. At this point, Owen would much prefer to be outside in the gardens than in the museums.  Owen has become a regular at the Norwegian House, where the old ladies have offered him membership, despite his Finnish heritage.  If Owen sleeps, grandma sits and studies her Greek (she and my dad will be traveling there in June).

I know spending the week with us means that many things that should be getting done at home are not getting done and that grandpa is wandering aimless and lonely without his other half (I joke that grandma left him for a younger man), but it has been wonderful to have her help.  My mom has always believed that a mother's place is at home with her baby, and it has been a very hard decision for me to return to work.  Of course the debate I have had with myself over this issue is purely rhetorical since we need my income, and should Drew eventually get out of the Navy it's important for me to have a job that can provide health insurance for all of us.  The decision to continue teaching has been further complicated by the fact that I enjoy what I do and believe in it.  I would like to think that I am working to make the world that Owen will inherit a better one, which isn't to say that I am not jealous of my girlfriends who have the privilege to be full-time moms and I hate that we live in a society that makes the choice to care for my child a privilege. 

My mom joined an amazing community of mothers when I was born and 30 years later she is still friends with the women from her Mommy and Me class.  I don't get to join one of those groups for stay at home moms, instead I will find community with the mothers who go to work and talk about their babies.  There are no easy choices, all I can say is that in the end I would not be able to do the most agonizing thing--walk away from my screaming baby--unless I knew he was going to get as much love, care, and respect as I would give him, and we are all, most of all Owen, so fortunate that his grandma is there for him.  

When Drew has surgery (we are waiting for them to schedule it), grandma Kerry will travel from Texas, and we are eagerly awaiting her arrival, so that she can also get her much deserved Owen time.  We know she wishes she lived closer so that she could watch him or that she and grandma Eleanor could arm wrestle over who got him which days.  I definitely don't fall into the Bible thumper category, but I can't think of a better word than blessed to describe how lucky Owen is to have been born into a world with so many people who love and support him and us too as we muddle through this adventure of parenthood.   

Slacker Bloggers Return with Much News to Report

Daddy and Owen in the ER

I hope anyone holding their breath in anticipation for the next blog update on Owen has been successfully resuscitated and will accept our sincere apologies.  It has been a packed couple of weeks (including many firsts), as a brief list will hopefully demonstrate:

• First trip to Balboa Park (and many successive trips): It's a beautiful place to walk and the dogs at the yuppy dog park have therapists instead of drug habits like the local hippy dog park in our neighborhood.  And yes the dogs and owners are a bit better groomed with less fleas too.
• First trip to Coronado
• First trip to Mission Beach Boardwalk. Mom ran two miles the other night and didn't drop any vital organs, and Laila only dragged the jog stroller with Mom and Owen into the bushes once.  
• First, Second, Third, Fourth, ... & most days ending in "y" trip to Fiesta Island: It has been a bit drizzly and overcast the past couple of days, but we have been enjoying a ridiculously warm, beautiful San Diego January thus far.  Amidst diaper explosions and marathon nursing sessions, we try to get to Fiesta Island (in Mission Bay) in the afternoon.  They have what we estimate to be a three-mile dog beach where Laila can run and swim off leash.  We go there or Dog Beach, but Fiesta Island has hard packed dirt that we can push the jog stroller or ride bikes on (more on that later).  Fiesta Island is where we get a little fresh air and Laila gets enough time to run around like a lunatic so that we all return home happier and healthier, especially Laila who is starting to adjust to having a little brother and has spent less time cruising Craigslist looking for people wanting to adopt a large, high-energy, emotionally dependent dog. Fortunately for us, no one has responded to her ad, so she is pretty much stuck with a squawking baby and mild neglect.
• Almost first trip to Mexico, Uncle Nicholas is living the Multinational Corporate Capitalist (formerly known as the American) Dream and was doing some work in Tijuana  (known as T.J. by us locals) for his company now headquartered in India which recently outsourced its manufacturing to the border towns of Mexico (he's been to Juarez and India on recent trips).  On his day off Nicholas thought it would be fun to go down the coast of Baja with Drew, Owen, his wife, and me, but Owen doesn't have a copy of his birth certificate yet, and I didn't want to become another fatal statistic in the drug wars of T.J.  There's something about 27 hours of back labor that makes life feel more precious and fleeting.
• First, second, third, ... most weekdays trip to San Diego City College with mom.  Even though I don't officially go back to work until the start of the semester next Monday, I have had to be on campus for meetings, professional development, and planning my classes most days for the past several weeks.  Owen has visited about every office on campus, and is of course the most adored baby ever!  He has slept and nursed through most of the days, except for the three hour meeting this morning mom had to pace around bouncing him through while everyone else took notes on the guest lecturer.
• First, second, third, fourth trip to Balboa Medical Center and Emergency Room: No not for Baby Owen, but for Dad. Remember under the bullet point about Fiesta Island I said it was a great place to ride a bike? That was what in literature classes we would refer to as foreshadowing.  Yes Drew is broken, let us all collectively say, "AGAIN!" Riding his bike down a little hill at Fiesta Island at dusk, Drew tapped his brakes to stop in front of Owen and me. He did this just as he hit a patch of fill sand and flipped his bike, or as he and my brothers would say, "He took a header."  So Drew snapped the wrist that has already been surgically repaired once and already has a permanent pin in it.  This is actually why the bone broke again.  It is still weak from the original break (apparently the worst bone in your body to break because it is so difficult to heal) and he is meeting with his surgical team Monday, so they can decide best how to proceed. None of the options look particularly great for an excellent outcome and normal wrist, so those of you inclined to say prayers can pray for a swift and speedy recovery so Drew can get back to changing diapers and bathing himself and a have a strong, mobile wrist that can do a royal wave should he ever find himself on a parade float or on the back of a convertible in a presidential motorcade (not sure if they still do those after JFK). Those of you more secularly inclined can of course send your well wishes along with fine Belgian Chocolate or a Microbrew IPA. Drew will gladly accept any combination of those three to help heal the pain of a broken bone and detract from the distinct odor of a three-week-old cast. So for those of you counting down the days 'til Drew was supposed to get out of the military with the anticipation of a child on the eve of Christmas along with him, he regrets to inform that his recent injury will keep him gainfully employed by Uncle Sam until he is healed.  Considering he may require surgery and months of physical therapy and the country may still collapse and revert to the barter system, this isn't bad news, and as long as he is broken his primary job is to get better and with Obama as president (sorry McCain fans) we're not as fearful of World War III. We do, of course, still stay up nights worrying about Russia rearing its head and a ground/sea invasion of Alaska, but we have a pretty decent stockpile of survival gear in the closet and meat in the freezer for the dog.
• And last but not least of firsts for Owen: Family Court with Mom.  We are very happy to report that after more than two years of muddling through the California Court system and  with a less than cooperative ex that headed to the mountains of Colorado leaving me with a stack of bills and no forwarding address, I am divorced.  With my parents as babysitters and emotional support, I went to court on Wednesday in Los Angeles County expecting to only have a hearing to request a hearing (and we wonder why the courts are backed up) in the near to distant future to settle my divorce.  Instead, we got a judge who meant business and he allowed us to resolve the entire case that day! Even though family court is now place for a baby, it was a good thing Owen was there for me to feed because we were there waiting all day, listening to one depressing divorce, child support, or custody case after the next.  Just like all would-be parents should spend a few sleepless days and nights caring for a newborn, anyone considering eternal wedded bliss should spend a few hours in family court to witness just how wrong it can all go if you don't marry Mr. or Ms. right.  This chapter of my life was definately more of a learning experience that all those years of college, and while I won't matt and frame my divorce decree like I would a diploma (if I were the type of person that ever got around to framing things), it will serve as a memory of the most difficult chapter of my life.  I  can only say that I am both humbled and blessed by all the love, support, and compassion I received by all of my friends and family, and that Drew ever went on a second date with a girl with so much baggage (including a restraining order on the psycho ex).  There aren't words that can describe what it feels like to finally close this chapter of my life, when I have already begun the best chapter ever-- a love affair of a lifetime with my two most precious men : )

So for all of you who were wondering how Drew, Annaliisa, and Owen have been doing, here is the update.  For those of you who are thinking TMI TMI, so sorry, but first go to the link on this page to our Flickr album and look at how big Owen is getting! Love to all!

New Buddies

Owen and Noah

New Nursing Mommies

Joni and I met more than five years ago in graduate school.  We were both officers in the Associated Graduate Students in English (an academic club for geeks trying to pad there applications for PhD programs).  After bonding during a rowdy road trip to San Diego (this is before I lived here) for an MLA conference (think thousands of geeks from all over the world getting drunk and talking about books and Postmodern theorists), we decided, after more wine and inspiration from our ever-athletic new friend Carolyn (she was on the road trip too), to run our first marathon.  

So it should only be fitting that all these years later by a fluke of nature and chance, Joni and I would discover we were pregnant within a week of each other.  If you know me well, you know that I like to speak in metaphor and that I will try to make every situation into an apt metaphor about running.  For example, my students have heard again and again writing  is like running a marathon, etc. etc.  So after enduring months of training and 26.2 miles through the hills, beaches, streets and freeways of San Diego, Joni and I (years later) embarked together on our newest adventure--pregnancy, which is kind of like running a 40-week marathon, or at least training for one.  Umm ... Not really. To be honest, child birth is actually a heck of a lot harder than a marathon despite the reassurances I had gotten to the contrary from my fellow marathoner Angi.  

So after months of long distance prego marathon phone sessions and the intermittent visit to compare bellies and appetites, one baby a little early and one a little late, Noah Finn Nelson and Owen Vilppu Wilson had their first very sleepy visit in the wee hours of the morning a few days after Christmas.   They, of course, spent most of the time nursing.

The Tragedy of the Diaper Change

In the brief life of Owen there are a few, in fact, in no events that are as tragic as the diaper change.  He was a mere twelve hours old when the nurse came into our room at the hospital giggling, asking if we were "murdering a baby in there" because his wails were so loud--healthy lungs.  For an easy going--even the pediatrician says they don't come easier--baby this one event causes quite a commotion.  It has gotten better in the past few weeks.  He doesn't cry every time, and Dad seems to have the magic touch (all the more reason why he should be on sole diaper duty).  Some may say these pictures are cruel; I can hear my mom's rebuke already, but they were taken by Grandpa Wilson.  And for those of you familiar with the Wilson family, you will know they have a documentary photography style that is unrivaled.  No moment goes unchronicled.  Unfortunately Drew didn't get this gene, so we are thankful to have someone else to capture these moments--even the ones where Owen may be reciting that classic line from the Heart of Darkness: "The Horror! The Horror!" Drew thinks Owen gets his overly dramatic zeal from his mother, and while I find that claim a bit dramatic in itself, I do have to admit that there is some resemblance to the pouty face and pose I used to adopt when I would lie sprawled out on the kitchen floor in the morning before elementary school and exclaim that I couldn't go to school because I had a "cramp in my side."  

Welcome to Owen's Blog

Yesterday was Owen's one-month birthday and time is already slipping away.  It is all becoming a blur.  Over the past several months I have been reading the chronicles of our good friends Joni and Dean's pregnancy, birth, and baby adventures on their blog, and while I am not one to steal an idea, I decided we too needed to get on the blog bandwagon.  That way, those who want hourly updates on the world of Owen (you grandmas know who you are!) can stay in the loop and so can the rest of our family and friends across the country and world.  We hope that the blog will also be able to serve as an e-journal/scrapbook for us.  Drew and I are also terrible about taking pictures.  Yes I know this is criminal. We just get caught up in the moment and forget, so we are hoping this will help us remember to take pictures, so that we can share them with all of you. Owen is the greatest gift we have ever received and every moment is a joy, even when we're getting peed on : )