Only this blueeyed gaze…

Ford, you had your first haircut today, and it was a struggle. Aunt Cake had her hands full, but look how handsome you look, just in time for your first birthday. I’ll miss you while I’m on the west coast for three weeks. By the time I get back, you’ll be walking, running, cracking jokes and genomes. That’s how fast you’re changing these days, Ford; I feel lucky to draft off all your evolution.

Happy birthday, nephlet.

I wasn’t kidding when I said you were my favorite person.

XOXOXOX,

Yr. Aunt Banana

You knew it was coming, the day I could not decide. I’m trying to be all curatorial and decisive with these selections, but it’s Friday and I’m running way behind on my pre-trip To Do list*, so today, you get the salty and the sweet.

Mom bought a learning tower for Ford—a sort of all-in-one wooden structure that’s equal parts castle and booster stool, with some puppet stage thrown in—and he loves it. Yesterday, he “helped” scrub the drainboard, by which I mean he scumbled some bubbles around while brandishing a spatula and shrieking. That’s where these shots are from, and it’s really too bad they don’t come with an audio track, because Ford’s a hoot, literally. He’s gotten loud of late, everything’s in his outdoor voice.

This is the first picture I’ve gotten where all his chicklet teeth are visible. Note the full fingers, as well. And the visible impery, of course, but then, that’s hard to miss.

See more Ford here.

*Skittery run around tasks? CHECK.

Taxes and other hard focusey stuff? GET ON IT, GIRLY.

Ford turns one next week, and it’s like he went from babe in arms to leaping toddler monkey overnight. One day, he was dragging himself along the floor like a commando, the next he was standing, then climbing, and now jumping in place with shrieking glee. He hasn’t taken his first steps yet, but I would not be surprised if those steps were taken at a run. Walking seems too sedate for the neph; he’s got places to go and things to poke.

I like this shot because for such a smiley, exuberant kid, he’s also got a serious side that comes out in pensive moments like this. I’ll post some classic Ford grin-porn for the scattered relatives next post, okay?

My ovaries were bored while my brain was editing high-tech press releases, so I got them all riled up with a video. It’s bedtime with Ford and his folks, sometime in the recent, pre-surgical past:

I’m particularly fond of the self-referential triangle between Ford, the camera lens on his left, and the mirror in front of him. He’s out to beguile them all, himself most definitely included.

What also strikes me is how young he looks here, how much less crackling with curiosity he seems at nine months versus ten (although he seemed ultrasonic back then, ungovernably abloom). Of course, he’s wearing seven league boots, developmentally speaking, so every day’s a new frontier to discover; he’s manifest destiny with diapers and drool. I can’t quite keep up with him; I’m the east coast, already mapped and settled, while Ford’s a tiny pioneer.

Head west, young man, and I’ll follow behind, marveling at your locomotion.

Vid from dad’s flickr page.

Thanks for the good wishes, everyone!

Here’s Ford, his arms in casts from fingertip to shoulder. One lone thumb is visible, in case he needs to hitch a ride outta this place.

More tomorrow…got a neph to play with tonight.

1. Blow up this bad boy, viral-styley:

It’s my friends’ oldest, Charlie, who’s learning to ride a big-boy bike. It’s day 2 here, and he got a little cocky, maybe. His dad assures me that no children were hurt in the making of this video, so it’s fine to laugh, then reblog.

2. Try not to whine about what feels like a sore throat, but which is actually a sore tongue, brought on by all the throat drops I’ve been sucking. I’m now on a strict ricola moratorium.

3. Watch the neph while my sister’s at a medical consult. He’s home sick(ish) from daycare and she’s taken the day to read him board books and build towers for him to knock down. And really, how can I say no to this soupcan grin?:

Ford and the pups from The Subtle Rudder on Vimeo.

Ford came by for a visit yesterday and slithered around like a smiley snake, making his aunty happy and the pups nervous. They’ve always thought of him as a fragrant, lickable nugget-in-arms, easy pickings for a drive-by tongue-strafe. But they’re getting some of their own medicine, now that he’s motoring around, learning the world with his pinchy little fingers and his wet, wet mouth.

And yes, blue plaid flannel was my executive work attire as of yesterday at 11 am. Casual friday, y’know?

PS for Papou: If you click the video link above, you can download it for endless grandfatherly desktop viewings.

I’m deep in entrails of the IT technology beast, listening to the autistic yawps of engineers, but my mind’s on another menagerie entirely. Only two days to go and I’ll be back in my own bed, with my own dogs, and my own little lioncub within easy reach.

I plan to eat him right up.

Happy week’s beginning. More soon, when I’m back to working in my pajamas and I can leave my browser window open all day long.

It’s 4 in the afternoon and I have been up for TWELVE HOURS already, which means I finished my serial killer-who-dresses-strippers-in-leg-braces book before 6 AM and, hello, is that my brain leaking out my left nostril? Because I swear I used to be literate. And adequately rested.

Don’t mind me, I’m just pounding green tea and gnawing on the lonely rotisserie chicken I found in the fridge, trying to use food as a stand-in for sleep (it’s a little like using sex as a stand-in for everything, only there’s usually more clothing). I suspect ice cream and gin would prove a more efficient combo, but if I can just hold out for another hour, then I can slink offline and assume my supine sprawl in front of the TeeVee, while the dogs do their unending pester for walkies. (What do they know of weariness? They’re napping in the sunlight as I type, the lucky mooks.) We’ll just see if the corner boys of Bal’mer can keep me awake past eight.

And yes, that’s Ford from whenever ago, back when he was a proper infant, not the chortling, kinetic mega-neph he is today.