The truth about cloth diapers and me.

In her last comment the oh so observant SmockLandy wrote, “Oh, you gave up on cloth? I'm sorry…” OOO! That stung a little! I am sure there was no offence intended, but my guilty conscience was pricked. The following is not intended to be a defense, because there can’t really be one, BUT…

The truth is I WANTED to use cloth. I wanted to do my part, to be a hip-liberal-mama. I WANTED to use cloth diapers. Other moms on the web made it look so cool, so easy. Heck there are thousands of cool diaper covers in neat-o designs to really dress up your baby’s buns and show off his originality.

I did the research and I calmly laid out my case to Smoochy. First and foremost we would be doing our part to conserve the Earth, secondly it’s nearly cheaper, and it’ll be easier to potty train the kid! You see darling Smoochy, all of these sources say that because cloth allows Baby to FEEL the wetness he will be more uncomfortable and therefore have more motivation to pee pee in the potty. Shoot, we’ll have our little darling using the toilet by six months! Like a good and knowing hubby Smoochy said, “You’ll be doing most of the diapering so do what you want. I just want you to USE what you invest in, and I won’t be shocked if you can all this silly cloth diaper business…you damn hippie.”

I have a personal philosophy of giving my loved ones the chance to revel in their well deserved “I told you soes” It just makes people feel good, and it’s something I can so easily and so often provide. Often I (and this kind of smacks of DEFENCE MECHANISM to me) am the first to point out when someone was right and I was WRONG.

Like with cloth diapers.

It all started well enough. I am fortunate to live in a metropolitan area and there is a diaper service no further away than my local yellow pages. By the way, if you live in the East Bay Area, ABC Diapers ROCKS. Seriously, they are a friendly, easy to work with, family owned and operation, with a quality product. Obviously my failure to cloth diaper doesn’t lie with them. I didn’t even have to wash the smelly poo-raggs! (If this is something your interested in; all the research I did indicates that cloth diapers from a diaper service are more eco-friendly than washing your own die-dies because the industrial cleaning process they employ actually uses less water and chemicals than what you use at home.)

So once Sonny was born (as that’s what we were calling him back then) I diapered my smooshed little cherub in cloth. However, I was the only one folding the pre-folds and trying to wrap them around my chicken-legged cutie-pie. Smoochy had not signed on to this cloth diaper thing so he was using all the disposables we had been given as gifts.

Sonny/Normy is the first baby I have ever cared for. I didn’t baby sit, my siblings were too close to my age, and I was never really into babies before my own. Smoochy on the other hand is the oldest of six brothers and sisters. He has changed some diapers. So, while I was sweating, fighting, and cursing the cloth, he was sailing through his diaper changes. I looked on with envy. I felt like the incompetent mom compared to super dad.

Then it happened. Two weeks after Sonny was born he out grew his newborn Litewrap diaper covers. Surprise surprise! By this point I had gotten pretty good at managing the pre-folds and wrap, but now I could hardly snap the things on to my growing little boy. The CRAPPY thing about diaper covers is that you can’t buy them at Baby’s R Us or Target or any other store for that matter (which I am sure is a conspiracy). For those of you who diapered in the 70s, I am not talking about the plastic pants you slide over a pinned diaper, but rather a smart new diaper cover that you merely lay the pre-folded cloth diaper into and then VELCRO around the baby. No more pins. So, I can’t use that excuse either!

Pretty much once Normy outgrew his diaper covers I was through. I had seen an easier way. I had tasted the possibilities. While no one was looking I would sneak the occasional disposable. And it was SO EASY. I couldn’t stop myself. When you’re changing 12-15 diapers a day you don’t care about anything other than cutting the crap. Git ‘er done!

The truth is I don’t have anything but my own laziness to blame for my household’s failed attempt at cloth diapering. Had I stuck to my guns we would have eventually run out of the gifted disposables and there would have been nothing in the house but cloth. Smoochy is such a good hubby that he would not have quit diapering just because he didn’t prefer the diapering medium. I can argue that Normy stays drier and therefore has less rash issues…but really the only reason we use disposables is it’s SO MUCH FREAKING EASIER! And right now when everything is ten times more difficult to accomplish because of the baby, I take simple joy in being able to breeze though a diaper change.

The Poo Saga Continues...

I changed Normy’s clothes three times today due to diaper malfunctions. Or rather what I thought were malfunctions. Turns out the diapers are fine, he just doesn't fit them any more. Thank Good for Mama-Beans and her comment on my previous post or more baby clothes would have met a premature demise at the snip of my scissors. (Ohhhh so that’s what those crazy shoulders are for! I feel like a dumb-ass.) When I related my frustration to Smoochy he suggested maybe the diapers were too small. NO. WAY. Was my first response. Surely he hasn't out grown size 2 in Pampers! Those should be good through 18 pounds. There is no way my 10 week old weighs 18 pounds... Well, according to my scale he sure does. Check out the baby man-boobs!


If I had a baby book I would record that tonight Normy graduated to size 3 diapers. No longer are the Sesame Street charcters featured in the front of his diapers illustrated as little babies. Now it's grown-up Grover, Big Bird, and Ernie that grace the front of Normy's poo catchers! I don't know why this is such a milestone for me. It really should come as no surprize; he's out grown all of his 0-3 month clothes and even some of his 6 month clothes. I can't find pants that fit him because he fits in 9 month pants in the waist and still fits the 3 month pants in the legs. Oh well... It sure has been fun watching him grow.

June 12, 2006: 8 pounds 8 ounces and somewhere between 20 and 21 inches long

July 12, 2006: 12 pounds and 22 inches long

August 12, 2006: 15 pounds 12 ounces and 23 1/2 inches long

Who needs a baby book when you have a blog!

A Photo-Essay on Poo

I know. I know. Another Mommy Blogger and her poo war stories. But I thought I would do a service to all of Normy’s Grandparents who are feeling bad because they are too far away to see him often. See what you’re missing? Ah, let the good times roll. These PJs were cut from his body while he screamed bloody murder; so much for that sleeper-sack. Now that’s the way to start the day. Keep scrolling...

The Jack Abides

The Jack Abides…usually.

But today he had enough!

Usually, Jack is the calmest dog in the world. Those of you who know him can attest to his downright unflappable nature. Normally this dog can withstand all manner of taunts and humiliations without the slightest of unease. We rescued him form the pound as a puppy and ever since he has been one grateful pooch. He has endured all of Smoochy’s good natured teasing and silliness without so much as a bark. Even when Smoochy puts socks on his paws to watch him squirm the look in Jack’s eyes is always, “I don’t care! I’m just happy to be here!”

Today was another story. Today the line was crossed. As I type he is frantically barking at the door to be let out and meet face to face his assailant. A bastard squirrel.

Our morning started as it usually does. 8 o’clock rolled around and Jack was ready to greet the day, sniff the bushes, and dump in the lawn. So, I let him out. I can only imagine the scene that followed. He was probably peeing in his usual spot (a two foot by two foot patch of grass that is now dead and brown much to our landlady’s dismay) when out of the corner of his eye he spotted an interloper. The squirrel.

I’m not exactly sure what the squirrel said to Jack that set him over the edge. Perhaps he didn’t say anything at all and merely started pelting Jack with nuts. Whatever manner of taunts the squirrel dished out, today was not the day to cross this normally placid pup.

While the drama played out in our front yard I was quietly nursing Normy. The incessant dog barking was about to drive me nuts and all I could imagine was an angry visit from some crotchety neighbor. We aren’t in Georgia anymore, Jack! So I unlatched my poor babe and flew from the house dripping milk, ready to reprimand some doggie hide!

Jack was standing front paws on the fence, hackles up, eyes glazed huntin’ squirrel. The bastard squirrel was barely a foot out of range on a tree chattering away and obviously TAUNTING my poor dog. My first though was “Go get him Jackamoe!”, then my second thought was where the heck is my camera? Of course the memory card was in my computer, the battery was plugged into the wall, and the camera was IN ITS CASE (really it was, Smoochy!). By the time I was back outside with the reassembled camera the squirrel had traveled further up the tree (because it’s a PUSSY!)

So, the squirrel lived to crack another nut, my poor dejected dog was coaxed back into the house with promises of a treat, and quiet returned to the neighborhood. But, that little bugger better watch his furry little tail, Jack may look like a sweet dumb Lab, but he’s got the heart of a killer. Who know's what he's mixed with!


"Can you believe my mom quit nursing me for this crap!"

Busy Day

Thank you Fisher Price play gym! If it weren't for your chirping mechanical bird piping out Mozart tunes and graceful arcs dangling alluring plastic toys in front of my son I would I have gotten nothing accomplished today. As it was I mopped the kitchen floor, vacuumed the living room and the couches, and even dusted. I was on a roll; and Normy was a doll all day.

I truly believe that eliminating dairy from my diet has made a world of difference in my baby's temperament. He did not launch himself into a full blown crying fit once today. Sure there were a few tears, but only over resolvable issues. I love it when I can figure out what's bothering him and make it better. Not only is Normy in a far better mood but he did not throw-up today AT ALL. All the milk he drank stayed in his tummy. Can I get an Amen!?

I have had the best most productive and rewarding mommy-day yet. It has been so much fun interacting with my kiddo. All of a sudden he is the most smiley little being I know. You can see he is interested in the world around him. He follows things with his eyes and will turn his head to watch me move around the room or to seek out the sound of my voice. Each little advancement he makes seems like a miracle to me.

Even more miraculous was how easy our errands were today. I went to Wal-mart and Trader Joe's and he was an angel the whole trip. He was peaceful and calm for the car rides, awake and interested in the Baby-Bjorn, and even let me unload my shopping when we got home without any fussing. I don't know what happened to my crabby-apple-bottoms of a baby, but WHATEVER; I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Today he gave me his first ever smile-because-I-see-my-mommy when I opened his car door to take him out of his car seat. I was completely overcome with delight. I'd do anything to duplicate that look on his face again and again. I guess that's why peek-a-boo was created.

Well, this busy day has taken its toll on me...despite how smoothly it all went. It's time for bed. I've had the baby down now for about an hour and that's been just enough time to take a shower and FINALLY munch down some dinner. I didn't want this blog to read like a diary, but I am too pooped to be more creative! :-(

An Ode to My Darling Husband

Dearest Smoochy,

I pray that you never EVER feel under-appreciated or taken for granted. You are my rock, my soul-mate, and most importantly the most able-bodied involved father in the word. I cannot tell you what a huge help you are to me with the day-to-day maintenance of our home and all the demands of child rearing.

The bottom line is Smoochy, you rule. You are not afraid to tackle the fullest of diapers, the crankiest of babies, or even two days worth of dirty dishes. I’ve seen you do it all. The highlight of my day is seeing you walk in the door after your work day. You scoop the often sobbing baby into your arms give me a “nice to see you, Honey” kiss and make everything right in the world, or at least right in our living room.

At night I can count on time to myself to take a shower, blog, maybe even read a book because you are there to lend a hand with Sonny. And I know you don’t see it as a chore. When I watch you cooing and talking right along with our son, I know that you are enjoying your favorite time of day. That time is so precious.

Because you are such a good father it gives me room to breathe, which makes me a better mother. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love spending the days with Sonny. I feel privileged to be able to stay home and raise him. But the icing on the cake is that you never leave everything domestic to me.

What did that bumper sticker say, “I’m not spoiled. I’m well taken care of.” Yup. That’s me. All I can say is that I would be lost without you.

New and improved baby with added cuteness!

Sonny & Beta Sonny

Suddenly, wonderfully, and almost over night my baby has become irresistibly adorable to me. Please don’t get me wrong, I have always thought he was precious in that “face-only-a-mother-could-love” kind of way. Normy was just so smooshy for a while. Let’s be real, his one squinty eye, baby acne, and perpetual scowl pretty much kept him out of the running for any baby beauty pageants. However, from day one I loved him more than anything in the world, and I have always thought he was a cutie-pie, just not so much in the traditional Gerber Baby sense.


But yesterday I woke up and he was knock-your socks-off darling. He certainly is his best in the mid-morning. That’s when we usually find our selves lying in bed together and he is a squirmin’ wormin’ Storman Norman! I’ve finished my coffee so I am my most receptive, and he has finally grunted out his morning colon blow. That always puts a smile on his face. Yesterday was Sunday, so Smoochy was lazing in bed with us too. It was heaven. Norman was a bundle of coos and smiles, little flailing limbs, and the occasional tattoo of baby farts. He was a riot. On top of all of that, his skin is clearing up and his droopy eye is really starting to undroop. The overall effect is simply debilitating mommy-maddening cuteness.


After so many tear filled days it is amazingly reassuring to see my little boy grinning. It has been difficult having a baby that is often inconsolable. I guess the term is colicky; but I always feel like it is over kill when I use that phrase. Part of me agonizes that I can’t comfort my baby and the other part of me believes that this must just be how babies are. They cry. A lot. I only wish that when I wrapped my arms around him and spoke softly to him he would be soothed and reasured. I wiah that he would trust me and believe that it wasn’t all so bad. I know, that’s asking for a bit too much understanding of a two month old. Especially one who is pained by horrible gas!


And yet, things definitely seem to be on the up-swing. Miraculously, my baby is morphing into this fabulously interactive juicy little dumpling. As I sit here trying to type this with him on my lap he keeps getting annoyed that I’m not giving him my 100% attention. Even though every other word I pause to talk to him and giggle, the moment I look away again he starts babbling and whining to regain my attention. It works. Needles to say it is taking me far longer to write this than normal.


I have to believe that things are improving because today is day five on my no-dairy-diet. He is puking less (though he’s not puke free) and seems a little less irritable. I am finding it challenging to do without my milk, ice cream, and cheese. Ohhh how I miss cheese. But, I would much rather give up milk than coffee, which I was worried was causing Baby’s irritability. Sonny is certainly Smoochy and my child; he seems impervious to a strong cup of joe, but if I drink something healthy like milk he hurls. That says it all.

Missing Aunt Betsy

JJ, Sonny, Normy... perhaps we should add Lucky to the list of nicknames. As in lucky to have awesome Aunt Betsy in his life. Or maybe that should be my nickname? For the past three weeks Sonny's Aunt has been visiting us from the great state of Kansas. Her visit came to an end on Wednesday so that she could return home to start the 8th grade. Normy and I have been lost ever since.

Betsy is the type of girl who can melt even the grumpiest of people with her easy warmth and
good humor. She radiates kindness, which I bet has been valuable to her while navigating the rough waters of middle school. She's one of those people EVERYBODY loves, and I bet she is a very well thought of person in her class.

Her visit with us was so special for a number of reasons. Firstly, I know that she and her big brother have a very special bond. Smoochy was her age when she was born and he always played a large role in her care as both a little baby and as a child. It is no secret that he adores her, and vice versa. They were a riot together, staying up late to play games on the computer or to watch movies!

Normy LOVED spending time with his aunt. Betsy could make my baby smile quicker than anyone else. He simply had to be passed into her arms and usually he would bust into smiles or quickly settle into peaceful trusting sleep. I can't even begin to describe what a huge help she was to me. Betsy is one of those intuitive people that just know how to be helpful. I never had to ask, she would just do.

So now we are all trying to adjust to life without her around. Sonny is bored with just Mom to play with during the day. And poor Smoochy he has no one to play computer games with any longer! As for me I mostly miss her company. Sonny is a great listener, but he isn't much of a conversationalist just yet. We are all excited to see her again at Christmas time!

Thank You...Take Two!

I was trying to do too much at once this morning. I was trying to blog and get Sonny and I ready for his doctor’s visit at the same time and the blog lost. I wanted that picture of Sonny to accompany a thank you to all you wonderful ladies who commented on Sonny’s various ailments. I really needed all the encouragement and advice. Intellectually I KNOW that this stuff isn’t my fault, but my mommy-heart does not always listen to my head. My nerves calmed after hearing that many of you have gone through the same issues. Also, a special thank you to SmockLady for sharing about her experiences with reflux. I won’t lie, she did scare Smoochy and I a little. But, in a good get off your ass and do some research kind of way.

So, as for the doctor’s visit: One of the benefits of living in this community is having access to Lucille Packard Children’s Hospital at Stanford. Their facility is amazing. Today we had our first appointment with the pediatric department of urology to have Sonny’s hernias evaluated. We became a little discombobulated trying to find exactly where we needed to be, as Stanford’s medical complex is huge. When we first arrived we went to the wrong building all together, but the nice people at the information desk arranged for a golf cart to take us to the right place. How about that for service?

Once we made it to the correct building and I approached the front desk, the friendly receptionist asked, “Is this Jacob?” I hadn’t said one word! What a relief. No bell to ring or glass window separating my sick babe from the office staff, and to top it all off we were expected! We didn’t even wait five minuets before we were called back for our appointment. And once we were situated in the examining room the nurse practitioner (with whom we had the appointment) was in to see us mere moments later!

The best news is that Sonny’s hernias both seemed small and so we are taking the wait and see approach to his treatment. We were told today that often hernias like his will close on their own, and so they don’t recommend surgery until the baby is a year old, if at that point it is still necessary. What a huge relief. I was so nervous that my tiny little infant was going to have to go under the knife at this tender age! And by my “tiny little infant” I mean my 16 pound two month old!

It amazes me that he is still gaining weight the way he pukes so much! How big would he be if he kept it all down? My sister (Kate) spoke with a lactation consultant she works with who believes acid reflux in breastfed babies is uncommon. This woman thought maybe Normy was sensitive to the proteins in cow’s milk. The more I’ve read about this the more I think it could be a possibility. Smoochy was extremely sensitive to dairy as a child, so perhaps Sonny is also. That would be VERY tough for me. I LOVE milk. I love cheese. On average I consume a bowl of cereal with milk, a cup of milk with lunch, yogurt, butter, cheese on everything, and a bowl of ice cream EVERY DAY. Well, not tomorrow. I’m going to cut it all out for a couple of weeks to see if it might help. I needed to knock off the nightly bowl of ice cream any way.

Well, ladies and gentlemen. It is time for a shower and some shut eye. Once again, thank you to all of you who commented recently on my little Normy and his ailments. You really did make me feel tons better!

Thank You!

Sonny's First Meme

My poor baby. Every time I take my little overmedicated Sonny to the pediatrician I come away with another prescription. I made this comment to Smoochy and he replied, “Yea, glad we had that natural homebirth!” *sigh* He’s so right. First Sonny had special drops and butt ointment for a case of Thrush; then he had antibiotic prescribed for an eye infection; and next he will probably have to have SURGERY for not one but TWO hernias. Awesome. But today, today the poor little grumpy man was prescribed a medicine to help with acid reflux! Have you ever heard of a breast fed baby with acid reflux? He is miserable!

You know, my house is clean, I keep Sonny in clean clothes, and the kid eats as often and as long as his little heart desires (Can’t you tell? He weighed in at 15 pounds 12 ounces today!). And of course you know he is loved and loved and loved. Yet, with all these health complications I can not help but feel like I am doing something wrong. *Sigh* Enough of that though. We aren’t feeling sorry for ourselves or anything over here. I really just feel so bad for my poor little guy. To top it all off, today he received his first four shots of vaccines. He’s pretty cranky!

*****
That was all written yesterday. Today Sonny is feeling much better. Well enough in fact that he was up for finally doing this super cute meme his blogging buddy Baby Henry over at the House of H tagged him for. So without further ado:

3 Things That Scare Me
Possibly needing surgery on my hernia!
When I get left alone in a room…are you ever coming back for me?!?!?!
The prospect of my peach-fuzz uni-brow ever coming in darker.

3 People That Make Me Laugh
My Mom (seriously, have you seen that funny face?)
My Dad
My Aunt Betsy

3 Things I Love
BOOBY!!!!!
Sink Time
Laying on my changing table

3 Things I Hate
Getting lotioned after bath
When Mom doesn’t give me her complete attention while nursing
Nursing with a dirty diaper. (Would you like to eat with poop in your pants?)

3 Things I Don’t Understand
Why Aunt Betsy has to go home tomorrow. She’s my best friend other than Monkey.
How so much cheese can develop under my second chin!!! Eww gross!!!
Why everyone talks three octaves higher to me than everyone else.

3 Things on My Desk/Table (or play mat)
Sunflowers, grapes, and crabs. This is a quilt that Grandma T. and Aunt Betsy made for me.

3 Things I’m Doing Right Now
Right this second I’m wearing my favorite puppy pj’s, playing with monkey and mommy, and making silly faces!

3 Things I Want to Do Before I Die
Beat my Grandma T. at arm wrestling.
Ride with Grandpa N. in his custom built airplane.
Take a spin with Grandpa W. in his refurbished Barracuda

3 Things I Can Do
Flirt with the ladies
Smile (occasionally)
Cry for hours on end with a single breath.

3 Ways to Describe My Personality
Mr. Grumpy Pants
Normy Crabby-Apple-Bottoms
Mommy’s High Needs Heartthrob

3 Things I Can’t Do
Visit my extended family as much as I would like to.
Be Aunt Kate and Uncle Chuck’s ring bearer… I’m too little.
Go with Dad to Korea next week, I haven’t got my passport yet.

3 Things I Like To Listen To
I Love to Boogie at least once a day.
Daddy snoring, it makes me feel safe.
The doggies barking welcoming Daddy back from work.

3 Things I Don’t Like To Listen To
Mommy saying, “Time for bed!”
Anyone who says Mommy shouldn’t feed me in public.
Daddy telling me bath time is over!

3 Absolute Favorite Foods
Booby milk is the diet for me!

3 Things I’d Like to Learn
How to say, “I love you!”
How to pick my nose.
How to ride a bike.

3 Beverages I Drink Regularly
Only booby milk!

3 Shows I Watched as a Kid
Mommy and Daddy don’t watch TV, but we watch lots of MOVIES.
Fun With Dick and Jane
Notting Hill
Big Lebowsk

3 Babies I Tag
Jack at Women on the Verge
Lucia at Lucky Juju
Baby Girl at Sugar and Ice

Sara's Wedding

To call Sara my cousin is only technically correct; it is far more accurate to call her my sister. She and Kate, my other sister ;-) are the same age, both two years younger than I am. During the summer the three of us were inseparable. Every morning after breakfast at Grandpa and Grandma’s (where my family would stay) we would call down to my Aunt Mary Beth’s house to see if we could meet with Sara to play. Inevitably Sara was told she had to finish her chores before we could meet up; but by mid-morning every day we had been given the go ahead to walk through the field

It would have been more direct to walk along the highway to meet, but one of Grandpa’s brothers had been killed walking along that highway when he was only seven, and so we were never EVER to walk that way unsupervised. To facilitate our journey through the fields Sara’s dad had made a special opening in a fence that children could slip through but cows could not. We named it the “Pass Through” and used it every day to meet up with to Sara.

Once we were in each other’s company the day flew by, filled with every manner of excitement. Of course we played with dolls some, mostly Cabagepatch Kids, but usually we had some grander scheme to occupy us. One year we put on a talent show with an elaborately choreographed flag routine; while another year we held a beauty pageant. These were never simple affairs. They would take weeks of our energy. For the beauty pageant we made crowns and sashes, made up talent routines, and found judges and an audience. Kate won and Sara and I were devastated. We cried our eyes out!

By far the coolest thing we did was make a life sized doll house of an old abandoned farm house. It was actually the house my grandfather had grown up in. However, later it was the house where the hired hand would live with his family. The last hired hand to live there let the old house fall into ruin. His was a sad story. In fact, he shot himself in that house. We kids were sure it was haunted. Sara’s older brother Brian told us the strange holes by the top of the stairs were where the hired hand smashed his kid’s fingers through the wall if they misbehaved. Creepy. Why our moms let us play in there I can’t imagine…the place was a WRECK. However, they did, and we spent WEEKS making these life sized dummies out of panty hose stuffed with straw, dressed in Goodwill clothes, and with yarn for hair. We posed them all over the house and made up stories about their lives. It was so much fun. Sad, that house no longer exists. It was demolished several years ago.

Anyway, Sara is the kind of person you like as soon as you meet her. She is warm, genuine, and unpretentious. Not to mention, she is beautiful. People naturally gravitate to her because of her kindness and generosity. That was apparent because of the many many many wonderful friends of hers that traveled great distances to be there for her wedding. I was so impressed by what wonderful people she surrounds herself with.

Don’t let yourself think for a moment though that Sara is a Little Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes stick in the mud. The girl knows how to let her hair down! When we were in elementary school, she was the first of us to ever cuss. I was blown away at her unabashed use of words and phrases I had never even heard before! And Sara was always the one who could pee in the fields with ease. Kate and I would usually trudge back to Grandma’s house or at least to the out-house. Not that cussin’ and the ability to squat in a field is really an indication of someone’s capacity to have a good time…I’m just saying the woman has always had spunk!

The woman. We are women now. It seems like just yesterday our Barbies were getting married, and now we are. Seeing my beautiful Sara walk down the aisle of the same church where both of our parents wed was amazing. The moment Pachelbel’s Cannon in D swelled, and she appeared from the narthex of the church on her father’s arm was breathtaking. She was the quintessential beaming bride. The ceremony and reception were perfect, filled with personal and deeply meaningful touches that made the whole day feel full and rich.

As for the groom? Of course I will tell you that Ryan is one lucky man to have captured the heart of my dear cousin, and it is the truth. But she is a pretty luck woman too! Ryan seems her ideal partner. They are grounded in the same way, with the same values, and the same profound sense of loyalty to the people in there lives. No surprise, the town of Ripley came out of the woodwork to wish this couple well. The best man was only half teasing in his toast when he suggested the school board could get their budget passed at the reception!

As I type, the happy couple is honeymooning in Costa Rica. Hmmm, sounds awesome, doesn’t it?!? Well, I shall close for now. I probably have at least one more good Ripley post in me…but for now I need some sleep!

A Little History

I have an ancestral home. My family (on my mother’s side) has farmed the same piece of ground since 1804. In fact my Great Great Great (not sure exactly how many Greats) Grandfather Alexander Cochrane was the founder of Chautauqua County in New York. The original Cochrane’s were Irish immigrants who dug in and carved out bit of the American Dream as our country was being founded. It is amazing to me to be connected to this country in that way. I love that I will be able to share with my children a view of their lineage that stretches back to the birth of the United States. I could be a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution if I ever get around to finishing the paperwork…and I’m ashamed I have not done so already. Perhaps that is something a future daughter and I can do together if I ever decide to home school.

I digress. The vast importance I place on the sense of permanence and belonging I feel being in some way connected to this farm pales in comparison to the love I feel for my family: both those who still reside there and those who make the pilgrimage to return. My father’s side of the family also hails (if not as historically) from the same tiny village of Riley, NY. In fact, my parents grew up on the exact same street. They both attended Ripley’s one school (grades kindergarten through 12th.) where my mom was a cheerleader and my dad a football player. For heavens sake, they went on their first date in MIDDLE SCHOOL!

The first home my folks ever bought was wedged in between the homes of my two sets of grandparents with my mother’s sister living across the street. It was the epitome of small town life. I remember gardening with my Grandma Cochrane, making forts in the hay barn, and snipping endless beans in front of the TV. However, most of those wonderful memories happened during summers visiting, rather than during our residence. My father was a carpenter and during the snowy New York winters there was not enough reliable employment. So when he got an opportunity to work developing a country club community in southwest Florida he packed up my little family and we moved south. I was four.

I remember getting on the little plane that flew my mother (pregnant with my brother), sister, and I to Florida for the first time. Knowing that we were leaving behind my grandparents and cousins (especially Brian & Sara!) was more than I could stand. I remember sobbing. I remember my mom sobbing. In fact, she didn’t stop crying. Every letter she received from her mother or sister (and there were a lot of letters) she would start crying again. I can only imagine now how hard it was on my father to see his beloved wife so bereaved over leaving their hometown.

There can be no question that my father loved my mother. Either that or he was just sick of hearing all her belly-aching, because EVERY summer without fail he would pack up our station wagon, loaded with a car top carrier chock-full of toys, and drive us to Ripley. Once there, he would turn around, return to Florida alone, and work all summer subsisting on TV dinners and weekly phone calls from us. Looking back now I realize what a huge sacrifice this was, and it makes me appreciate our summers in Ripley all the more. Of course we missed my dad horribly, and I can not remember ever being as happy to see anyone as the big day when he would finally fly back to Ripley to reclaim us. But our summers in Ripley were the golden days of my childhood.

I could write a book of all the wonderful memories I have of our summers in Ripley. When I look back I am flooded with images of my family members, the smells of their houses, and sounds of their voices. I can hear Grandpa’s foot steps as he climbs up the cellar stairs to come in from the farm for lunch; and I can hear Grandma humming her tuneless little ditties as she gets a meal together in the kitchen. Grandma was amazing. She always had a craft or a project for us to work on. However, we were also perfectly capable of entertaining ourselves as their house was a virtual treasure trove with antique wonders hidden in the attic, cellar, and the many closets.

As often as we were inside playing imagination games it was even more likely my brother, sister, and I could be found outside with our cousin’s Brian and Sara feeding the kittens in the calf barn, trying to catch mud-skippers at the creek, or even out riding horses. This was a child’s paradise. Because Brian and Sara lived just down the street from Grandpa and Grandma Cochran we saw them the most, and they were our closest playmates. But, with so much family around the summers in Ripley were our opportunity to spend time with the rest of the family as well.

Each summer my Dad’s family would hold a family reunion at Grampy and Grandma’s house. My Dad is one of eight brothers and sisters, so those reunions were always large, boisterous, and exciting affairs, complete with matching t-shirts. Usually the reunion was held around the Fourth of July. My older cousins Mike and Jeff along with my dad’s youngest brother Scott (who was younger than Mike and Jeff) would have fireworks galore. Grampy’s drive way would be littered with the remains of GI Joes and other toys that had been blown to smithereens with firecrackers. I was always jealous because that was play that my mother strictly prohibited my siblings and me from engaging in.

The focal point of these reunions was always a golf tournament that all the men in the family would engage it. It was less fierce competition and more an excuse to drink beer and goof off. However, they did have a trophy that was passed around to the new victor every year: a pink rabbit figurine wearing golf pants and swinging a club! I was never old enough to play, but I will never forget my pride or excitement the one year my dad allowed me to be his caddy. The men would go off golfing in the morning and return in time to picnic in the afternoon. While they were gone the women would gather in the kitchen to gab while we kids did mad-libs with Scott or all walked down to Grandma Cochrane’s to swim at her pool. No other time have I experienced such a simple and joyful existence.

I am sharing all this with you, so that you will understand just how sad I was to miss the most recent reunion of my father’s family this past July; and conversely just how overjoyed I was to retune to Ripley for my cousin Sara’s wedding last weekend. The wedding was simply magnificent. And unfortunately you will have to wait until my next post to read more about it. We are on our way to San Francisco with Sonny’s Aunt Betsy who is visiting with us. TTFN!

Norman?

I wish I could take credit for the pictures that went up last night…especially the one with Normy in the sink. But that was all Smoochy. He grew impatient for me to post last night and commandeered the blog at the urging of Grandpa W. who wanted some pictures of the recent baptism and trip to New York. Now I suppose this might leave you wondering a couple things. Such as: Norman? What’s this Norman business? I thought you called him Sonny? And I did, while he was in-utero. But once he was born it just didn’t stick. I am not sure if it was because he just did not look like a Sonny or subconsciously we kept thinking of Sonny’s BBQ.

So why don’t we call him Jacob or Junior? Well, two Jacobs is confusing, and I HATE Junior. It reminds me of a spoiled Richy-Rich kid. The nickname Norman, Normy or Normalicious came about because Smoochy had an uncle that nicknamed his brother (Tyler) Norman. However, the way Smoochy remembered it, this uncle called all the kids Norman indiscriminately. That cracked me up. I could just imagine family gatherings with all the little Normans running around. Hence we started saying to our baby, “You’re such a little Norman.” And boy did that stick. He LOOKS like a Norman with that lopsided grin and squinty eye. He reminds me of a boxer, you know STORMIN’ NORMAN! This becomes particularly apropos when he starts fussing.

The thing is, I think Norman has true staying power as a nickname, and that worries me a tad. For starters there is an awkward fat stage that runs in both our families that often coincides with the Middle School years. Not to mention he is already sprouting a baby unibrow. Not a good combo. Then, I believe if you go through the trouble of naming a child something, that is what they should be called. Just ask Sonny’s Aunt Betsy how frustrating it is to be referred to as Elizabeth, which is not her name. I would like Little Jacob to be Jacob, but that is turning out to be far more confusing than I had anticipated. I thought Sonny would be Jacob and Smoochy would become Dad. However, that is not an instant transition. And though it may happen over the years, perhaps not quick enough to keep Norman from becoming permanent.

I would never have named a baby Norman. Who doesn’t hear that name and think: NORM! from Cheers? Big-fat-beer-swilling Norm. Not something I would do to my beautiful baby. I wish we had just nicknamed him Frankie, which is a play on is middle name. But NOOOOO. It’s Norman. At least for now it has stuck. My adorable baby Norman. Have no worry, for simplicity sake on this site he will still be my Sonny. But if you ever come over for a visit and want to catch an elusive baby smile (and yes, to all of you who urged me to be patient, we have seen some bursts of beautiful baby smiles!) the best way to do it is call out: “NORMY!” in your most alluring baby falsetto!

Back to my opening paragraph. The next question you might have is: New York? Baptism? Is that where you have been? Yes. That’s where I have been. And it is my intention to write about it in just a moment. Or at least hopefully sometime later today. But for now I will leave you with an adorable baby picture to ponder. ;-)

Hello Ladies... My name is Norman.

Do you wanna come sit in the sink with me?

The Three of Us

Baptized