Weekend on the way

This household is ready for another weekend. Even if you hangout all week with your best bud,

it is still nice to have a change of pace on the weekends.

Last weekend we had a double grandparent weekend and spend some family time at the KC Renaissance Festival to see my cousin’s choir perform. They did a great job and it was so fun to hear, but if you are trying to impress a one year old, it is hard to compete with an elephant eating a whole watermelon. 

Better luck next time, Liz. We know you tried your best.
This weekend we are going to attempt to find a way to collect all the acorns from our driveway and teach the one year old not to swing golf clubs at his mother’s head, even if they are plastic. (“No, no, you do NOT swing golf clubs at mother!” – weirdly phrased direct quote from the changing table this morning. Why he is allowed golf clubs during diaper changes is probably a better question than why I referred to myself in the third person as “mother” instead of “mommy,” but then again if you have ever been around a child at 6:30 a.m. neither needs explanation.)
Hope your weekend is as promising as ours!

On the move for one reason alone.

Now that Dash is walking I’m beginning to think the only reason he stopped crawling is that he realized it was easier to hold a golf club while walking. The child is mine – I was there, I know – but if I didn’t know better I would say he had 100% of his father’s genes.

Here is the back story of Dash’s genetic makeup. Zach picked up golfing sometime between  high school and college. He took his natural athletic ability, applied it to a sport he had no exposure to, and now loves it so much and does it so well that this summer he went to Scotland for a two-week golfing trip and also placed second at a golf tournament at his golf club.

I joined the golf team in high school to get out of a gym requirement sophomore year. (That is right, I took up a rather expensive sport my freshman which met for practice everyday after school for four years to get out of sweating during the school day for one year.) My shining moments were managing to pitch a teammate out of a moving golf cart (which I was of course driving) and chipping a ball into another teammates hip so hard it left a bruise.

So now there is my son whose first word was “ball,” who wakes up in the morning talking about balls, and who uses two hands to swing his plastic golf club at any ball he can find all. day. long. He points out any round object he sees anywhere – in books, in the store, outside – and says, “ball?” He pointed to a button on his grandma’s shirt the other day and said, “ball?” When he is not swinging his golf club he is chasing balls around the living room kicking them or throwing them to whoever will play.And it’s not just the golfing. He has this two-step forward jump he does to catch himself if he starts to lose his balance. As in, a move so athletic I can neither accurately explain it nor recreate it.  I would be asking, “whose child is this?” except that I know. Zach’s. Now if Dash wakes up from his nap on the weekends and comes downstairs to find a football game on TV he claps his outstretched hands toward the TV and says, “foo-ball!” I maybe would roll my eyes except that it is just so fascinating to see  some part of my genetic material be athletic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBEonxLoyS0

iPhone dump.

One good thing about not blogging for a billion years is that you have lots of material to cover. One bad thing is that it can be overwhelming to cover everything and it makes you want to crawl back behind the “too busy too blog” excuse…

Anyway, I will take the easy way out here and give you some updates via the iPhone. The little magic box that is always with me. So much so that my one-year-old understands the concept of swiping. Don’t get too excited, grandparents, it is no marker of his genius. I hear that all the kids are doing it.

Anyway again, here are the photos.

Dash had a first birthday with 42,000 balloons. They are all still inflated and in our house. It’s getting old, except not for Dash. “Ba-oo!!”

Dash had so much fun with all the family who came to visit and celebrate with him. Especially cool cousin Luke.

We enjoyed the last of the summer heat.

We ate frozen yogurt barefoot because that is about the last time it is acceptable to walk into a restaurant barefoot – when you are still being carried everywhere.

Dash learned to stick his tiny, tiny fingers in the the holes in the fountain so as to spray the big kids in the face. Who you callin’ little guy?

Then we utilized some child labor on our weekly trips to the farmer’s market.

Dash and I made a trip up to Omaha to see my BFF’s new baby girl. The road home as literally washed away so these trips are now on a series of twisted highways and very slow. On this 5 1/2 our car trip we found thrilling things like old time-y merry-go-rounds and the outer edges of our patience.

We got to meet baby girl #2! Dash wasn’t really aware of the baby – been there done that. He is more interested in the older kids and what they can teach him. But I got some warm little newborn snuggles in. (Here she is at 3 weeks – I think Hazel is actually flashing a 3 with her right hand. That, or her neurons are randomly firing.)

The BFF and I tried out her new double wide with the two big kids. See what I mean about Dash’s fascination with big kids? Cora is 10 months older than Dash and as far as he is concerned sliced bread is chopped liver compared to her.

Also while in Nebraska Dash got his first Husker’s jersey! Yay for KU and NU being in different conferences! Now Dash can fully celebrate his Midwestern roots. We got a size 2T which he will probably be able to wear until he is 5.

 We got to go out to the lake for Labor Day and see family again. Dash got to play in the sand and hang out with his cousins. Here he is tolerating his cousin Lizzie only because she is closely related to cool cousin Luke. Sorry, Liz. You can try, but you will just never be Luke. 😉

Dash had his first trip to Chuck E. Cheese’s for his friend Schaefer’s 3rd birthday party. He enjoyed watching his dad play pop-a-shot and his mom whac-a-mole. Then he had a minor meltdown and we headed home.

Dash got his first football and had his first lesson in garage-sale bargain hunting. So far he has gotten this football and a tiny, spotted puppy for free.

I got some glimpses of what it will be like to be a parent to toddler Dash – smashing crickets, tasting worms, and diving head first into fountains. He is curious and thoughtful and by thoughtful I mean he seems to think, “What more could I do to explore this situation fully?”

So now you know a little more about what we have been doing. Or really what me and the magic box have caught Dash doing.

And he’s off!

It’s good that I have made my return to blogging when I did because this happened last Monday:

That’s right, he walks!

On Labor Day my occupational therapist aunt forced gave Dash some walking help and assessed that he knew how to do he just didn’t want to do it. Her assessment was that he would be stand up and take off when he was ready. Which is pretty much what he did.

I was in the kitchen, turned around and he was walking across the floor. He still prefers to go down to a crawl if he needs to get somewhere fast or turn around, but he tries out the walking everyday.

And here is a little PSA for why you shouldn’t give one-year-olds rice crispies. Or at least one-year-olds who have no patience for pincer grip and prefer to grab fistfuls of everything.

Also if you ever wonder why my child is never quite clean, this is why.

An update on our lives.

Soo…I have been pretending that I am a person without a blog. That is the problem with real jobs, isn’t it? Bosses normally don’t have much sympathy for the time you might need to take now and then pretending that you don’t do what you do.

Anyhow, joy and sadness collided for us the weekend of Dash’s birthday. That Saturday we had friends and family over to celebrate Dash’s first year and on Sunday we drove Watson off to meet his new family. After a long consideration, we decided that we didn’t feel safe having Watson as part of our family anymore. The poor dog had come into our lives four years ago as our only baby and then over the last year has struggled to adjust to the new family structure. Watson was fine with Dash, but whenever other people came to the house or passed us on a walk he would try to scare them off by lunging, barking, and snarling. This was not the dog we picked out as a puppy and not the dog we had lived with before Dash.

We worked with a doodle rescue organization and talked with/interviewed three families before finding the one we thought was right for him. This process was too difficult emotionally to try to explain and I don’t even think that we “chose” Watson’s new owner. When I met the woman who would become Watson’s new mama she greeted me with a huge hug. She knew. She understood how much sadness was in this and she was thankful that we were giving her our dog who we had loved. She thanked me for caring for him so well and for giving him to her. Best of all she was prepared to make Watson her one and only “baby.”

Watson with his new cousins

I have been missing that big, hairy dog, but whenever I start to be lonely for him I remember how wonderful his new owner is and how happy he instantly was when meeting her. He immediately was the goofy, sweet, fun-loving dog we had known. He has felt some sort of responsibility for protecting me since I was pregnant with Dash and that was never what he was meant to do.  As we drove away I knew he was in the right place. He is with someone who would let him be a dog. She will take him on long walks, take him to the lake to go swimming, and scratch his ears and throw the ball until he is happily exhausted.

I miss him, but I’m glad that we had the choice to make this decision because its like we found the place Watson was always meant to be.

And so life goes on, with its simultaneous joys and heartaches, and I’m thankful to be here experiencing both.