Give in to the "F" word, Part II

And now, a two-word photo essay:

"Dedication: doubled"

*Note that the white box is actually bulging.
**To see "Give in to the 'F' word, Part I," click here.
***If you're wondering how much milk that is, it's over a gallon.

The Old Monk and a Fire Truck

After the apple episode, I have slowly grown more and more annoyed with the Old Monk once again. The two things about him that bother me, in brief:

1) He lies in wait until we come home, and then pops out of his apartment to see Reilly. This bothers me because when I come home—with Reilly under one arm and the rest of me laden down like a pack mule—I just want to get up the four flights of stairs without interruption.

2) When I do the obligatory stop for the Old Monk, he is always rough with Reilly, pushing heavily on her cheek or pulling on her limbs. I submit the following evidence of his roughness: Reilly, who loves everyone who crosses her path, is always tentative and afraid when the Old Monk is around her.

On Sunday, the Overcast Family returned home from a nice morning out at the playground, and as we came through the second door downstairs, the Old Monk emerged from his apartment. After submitting Reilly to the monk’s endearment, Shawn fled up the stairs while I put the stroller away. Much to my annoyance, the Monk followed me. With my eyes rolled so far back in my head, it was a wonder I could see anything, but it was at that moment that the Old monk reached into a bag and pulled out a brand new Hess toy fire truck. He gave it to me.

I called out to Shawn, who had already made it up the first flight of stairs, to come back down with Reilly. “The Old Monk has a gift for her,” I said.

Shawn looked as sheepish as I felt. To thank him, she reached out and touched his hand, a universal thank you, since we don’t share each other’s languages. And when she touched his hand, he very gently gave it a squeeze.

Reilly missed all these sensitivities, but didn’t overlook the truck. She got down to playing with it as soon as we made it upstairs:

From the Archives: May 29, 2004 - Age 28

Shawn and I started our day with a trip around the Farmer’s Market. It was a somewhat different trip, in that we passed up on our usual staples—bison and goat cheese—and chose instead to buy ourselves a ficus tree ($15), sugar snap peas ($4 lb.), and currant scones ($1.50 ea.). Of course, we bought asparagus ($3.50 lb.), as it is still in season, and further added to our bag yellow zucchini ($1.40 lb.), which emerged for the first time this week.

After we had made our way around the square, we doubled back to pick up our ficus, and carried it back with one of us holding each side of a blue plastic bag. (We also bought a little begonia plant, the steal of the day, for $2. Once we had unloaded our groceries, we quickly tidied up our apartment and showered in preparation for the arrival of Donna and Marion.

Our two guests arrived a bit after noon, and after showing off our pictures of Captiva (we’re loving our digital camera, by the way), we left the apartment. I have yet to mention the weather of this fine Saturday, but it was one of those perfect spring days that you get in the northeast, blue sky, a little chilly in the shade, a little warm in the sun. Everything flowering and green. High of 72. It was to be the sort of day in which I repeat the phrase: “What a beautiful day!” so many times, yet the phrase never gets tired or becomes untrue.

Our first stop was at ‘wichcraft, where we picked up sandwiches and drinks, all dutifully loaded into Shawn’s striped beach bag. From there we took the 6 Train all the way up to 77th Street, surfaced, and walked past a quiet demonstration to Central Park. (No idea what was being protested against.) We entered the park and walked down a shaded path to the boat pond, where we quickly found an available bench. After lunching on our sandwiches, we stayed a bit to talk and watch the miniature sailboats race across the pond.

On the far end of the pond was what appeared to be a film crew, so when we got up we walked over to check out the scene. Much to my surprise and delight, the film crew was actually the birdwatchers of Central Park, all of whom were closely watching a nest perched high on one of the grandiose buildings of Central Park East. In the nest were three new red tail hawk hatchlings, and we spent the next fifteen minutes watching the mother and father hawks soar about, capture prey, and deposit the prey into the eager beaks of the hatchlings. It was a thrill for me to see this scene still going on, as I had read a book recommended by my mom about a year ago, titled: “Red Tails in Love” which tells the story of these hawks.

After our dose of nature for the day, we walked up through the park to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We got our purple buttons and meandered our way through the sculptures to the elevator, which we promptly took up to the rooftop. It was a great day for the rooftop of the Met, warm enough for a Corona, but cool enough that we didn’t have to sweat. There are two new installations up there of stacked rocks that are surrounded by a wood beehive-like structure. Very cool. We took some pictures and watched the hawks soar about some more, then descended back to the ground level and made our way back to the street.

From there we walked all the way back down through the park via the rowboat pond, down through the mall, over to Sheep’s Meadow, and finally out via The Pond. Along the way we saw some Indian tribal dance, the weirdo violinist, the hackeysackers, the skateboarders, the disco rollerbladers, and any other number of interesting people and groups of people that inhabit the park. The park was bustling and full of spring-like energy.

We caught the F Train home from the park, crossed the street fair on 6th Avenue and picked up a bottle of Sancerre at the wine store. Then we walked back to the apartment, had a fruit and nut plate, and enjoyed our wine. As you might imagine, we were all a little worn out and drowsy, but we soldiered on, leaving once more for a nice quiet dinner at Friend of a Farmer, over on Irving Place.

Baby Steps

Yesterday, we spent a long day outside, enjoying the nice weather of Memorial Day weekend. After a bite to eat at the Mayrose with our friends Todd and Colleen, we returned to the apartment to give Reilly a nap. When we came to the last flight of stairs, Shawn, on an impulse, put Reilly down to see if she would try crawling up.

Ever the adventurous baby, Reilly tackled the task straight away...


With a little support from Mom, of course...


and to our surprise, made it to the top in no time at all.

Week 46 Pictures

Reilly's Week 46 pictures are up at the Smugmug site. To view, please click here, or click at the link on the sidebar.

House Clothes, or: Another reason I’m an irresponsible parent

At daycare, we are required to keep two complete back-up outfits on hand in case of “accidents.” It is our responsibility to check our baby’s cubby each day and make sure that none of these items were used. (And when I write our I mean my.)

At fancy restaurants where wearing a jacket is required, the establishment often has a couple of “house jackets” that may be leant to a gentleman who has arrived sans sport coat. At daycare, there is a similar arrangement. A baby who was not properly supplied with backup clothing may be dressed in one of the house outfits to avoid the embarrassment of hanging out with the other daycare kids in nothing but a diaper for the rest of the day.

So far, Reilly has come home wearing:

The house socks (twice)
The house pants (twice)
The house bib
The house pacifier leash

As a parent, each time I show up at daycare and see Reilly in an outfit not her own, I always ask, “What happened?” Jenya or Joyce (Reilly’s caregivers) will then say something along the lines of, “She got ____ on her outfit, so we had to change her.” (In place of the blank, insert any noun you’d like, from “paint” to “food” to “poop to “spit up.”)

They will then kindly ask me to please bring two fresh sets of ____. (Insert in this blank: socks, pants, bibs, etc.) They try to ask in the nicest way possible, but any way they say it, I feel like a deadbeat dad.

Then, when I get home, Shawn will take one look at Reilly and ask, “What happened?” And I will have to explain that Reilly’s drop-off person forgot to stock up her clothes. Shawn’s response always is, “Briiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Again? That’s so embarrassing!”

It is embarrassing. Especially considering that the house pants are white with red vertical stripes. They make Reilly look like a sad little candy cane.

If I had TIVO, this entry never would have existed

To begin with the background: Old Navy, the ubiquitous clothing store, is starting a nationwide hunt to find a new dog mascot for their company. They encourage people to submit pictures of their dogs online in the hopes that their mutt will be chosen as the next T-shirt wearing dog-wonder of the United States.

Last night, I was watching TV with Shawn when I saw a commercial for an “open call” for this contest right down the street in Union Square, slated for today. So, after running a few errands this morning, I strolled Reilly over to the park to check out all the dogs.

There were dogs and their owners lined up across the park, with orange water bowls interspersed every few feet to keep the dogs from getting dehydrated.

I walked Reilly up and down the line so that she could see all the hopeful pooches. She was chattering and bouncing in her seat with excitement. Reilly loves dogs, and the dogs, for their part, love her. It probably has to do with the fact that she almost always has a Cheerio stuck to the seat of her pants.