Garden of Words

A Is for Annoying and Cloy

I almost never indulge in the confessional memes that circulate the Internet, preferring to administer my own unique forms of confessions wrapped within posts about babies and gardens. (More on the damned rabbit later.) But my friend Cheryl's responses (at her Twinfatuation site) to an alphabetical method of self-examination prompted me to follow suit.

A is for age:
Though I turned 40 in March, I floated on a cloud in early June when a group of recent college graduates spent a few hours discussing the working habits of Millennials with a group of folks at Luck Stone. After our conversation, I toured them through our new corporate space. One of them said, rather off-handedly, "You're a lot more like our generation than those other people in the meeting." I immediately went out and bought some Grecian Formula.

B is for burger of choice:
I've been making turkey burgers loaded with garlic, minced red pepper and chopped spinach lately. Toss on some melted white cheddar cheese, and you've got yourself a meal.

C is for what kind of car you drive:
A slightly battered 2000 Nissan Altima. The plastic hubcaps clatter when I drive, which makes me feel very Beverly Hillbillies when I'm coming down the street toward the house. Rilo hears me two blocks away.

D is for your dog's name:
Rilo. She was named for the band Rilo Kiley after Nikole and I deadlocked on names. She arrived in our home during my birthday week in 2007, and we will never regret the $300 we spent on three training sessions at PetSmart for her.

E is for essential item you use everyday:
Coffee. Tea. Water. Wine. That's essentially my liquid timeline every day.

F is for favorite TV show at the moment:
Now that Battlestar Galactica and Lost are on hiatus, I've not a clue. I still love some Alton Brown with his Good Eats program. And PBS' Globe Trekker is sassy, off-beat and occassionally hosted by the lovely Megan McCormick.

G is for favorite game:
I'm sure peek-a-boo is in my near future. And then Candyland.

H is for Home State:
Virginia.

I is for instruments you play:
Lungs.

J is for favorite juice:
Limeade.

K is for whose butt you'd like to kick:
If I could get my boot lined up to the fluffy tail of a certain garden-devouring rabbit...

L is for last restaurant at which you ate?
You can eat at restaurants? Nikole and I had Mother's Day breakfast at Joe's Inn and enjoyed a nice post-partum dinner at Sette before seeing The Swell Season play.

M is for your favorite Muppet:
Either Gonzo or the two cranky old men in the audience of The Muppet Show.

N is for Number of Piercings:
N is for None.

O is for overnight hospital stays:
If you don't count sleeping in a chair while Nikole was in the hospital, none.

P is for people you were with today:
Nikole. Thea. My mom. Three essential women.

Q is for what you do with your quiet time:
Quietly travel by myself across Africa.

R is for biggest regret:
I've forgotten most of them, as they've been erased by the joys that have inevitably followed them.

S is for status:
Pleased as punch to have found Nikole when I did, and to be happily married for three years. And father to Thea for 10 weeks.

T is for time you woke up today:
Is 5:00 in the morning early?

U is for what you consider unique about yourself:
The way my brain works.

V is for vegetable you love:
Cucumber. Corn. Most of the C vegetables.

W is for worst habit:
Constantly singing.

X is for x-rays you've had:
Teeth. A thousand cancer-causing x-rays of my teeth.

Y is for yummy food you ate today:
Lemon sorbet. Homemade blueberry muffins.

Z is for zodiac:
Pisces, through and through.

The Baby Factory: Stretch Armstrong

I stole these images from Nikole because they are so darned cute. Thea marked her 10th week of non-amniotic breathing on Friday, and had her official doctor's office weigh-in on Thursday.

She landed in at a whopping 10 pounds and 13 ounces -- almost a pound-and-a-half weight gain from her previous appointment two weeks earlier. That only put her in the 50th percentile for weight, but she's managed to stretch herself from 19 inches to 23 and 1/2 inches in length -- placing her in the 90th percentile for height. We're going to have one tall, skinny girl on our hands.

Nikole has been putting Thea on her play mat more frequently. She'll lay on her back for a half hour staring at the assortment of stuffed birds and bugs hanging above her -- just out of reach. Or, she'll curl up in what passes for a crouch for her mandatory tummy time -- strengthening her arms and neck by pushing herself up and turning her head back and forth.

On Tuesday, we met our friends -- Thea's third set of grandparents -- Tom and Judy at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden for a walk. I made three mistakes before we even got started with our evening walk through the gardens -- I discouraged Nikole from bringing her sling; I wore flip-flops; and when the flip-flops proved miserable, I walked barefoot.

The first mistake meant that we carried Thea. I managed about half of the walk before my arms started aching. Nikole and Judy finished the walk with her in their arms.

This weekend, we head back to Deltaville for a few days. Thea's cousin, Baker, should be there and they can gaze at each other with infantile obliviousness again. That should change by next year, when we're tying them to the clothesline to keep them from wandering into the Chesapeake Bay.

I stole these images from Nikole because they are so darned cute. Thea marked her 10th week of non-amniotic breathing on Friday, and had her official doctor's office weigh-in on Thursday.

She landed in at a whopping 10 pounds and 13 ounces -- almost a pound-and-a-half weight gain from her previous appointment two weeks earlier. That only put her in the 50th percentile for weight, but she's managed to stretch herself from 19 inches to 23 and 1/2 inches in length -- placing her in the 90th percentile for height. We're going to have one tall, skinny girl on our hands.

Nikole has been putting Thea on her play mat more frequently. She'll lay on her back for a half hour staring at the assortment of stuffed birds and bugs hanging above her -- just out of reach. Or, she'll curl up in what passes for a crouch for her mandatory tummy time -- strengthening her arms and neck by pushing herself up and turning her head back and forth.

On Tuesday, we met our friends -- Thea's third set of grandparents -- Tom and Judy at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden for a walk. I made three mistakes before we even got started with our evening walk through the gardens -- I discouraged Nikole from bringing her sling; I wore flip-flops; and when the flip-flops proved miserable, I walked barefoot.

The first mistake meant that we carried Thea. I managed about half of the walk before my arms started aching. Nikole and Judy finished the walk with her in their arms.

This weekend, we head back to Deltaville for a few days. Thea's cousin, Baker, should be there and they can gaze at each other with infantile obliviousness again. That should change by next year, when we're tying them to the clothesline to keep them from wandering into the Chesapeake Bay.

The Baby Factory: Sneeze a Little Sneeze for Me

Thea is quite the sneezer, though she's nothing like her dad who is currently suffering from a sinus explosion. Sneezing, eating and sleeping her way into her 10th week of life, our little girl has had quite the week -- story time, nap time, bath time, feeding time.

Tuesday evening, we met our friend Tom at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden for an evening stroll. Thea was snugged in the Moby (thanks, Joel and Sarah!) much of the time, and Nikole went to town with the camera -- she took dozens of photos of the expanded rose garden and other blooms.

I had several evening meetings on Thursday, so Nikole gave a try at the solo bath -- and did much better than I could ever expect to do.

The weekend was actually extremely low-key. Thea went with us to the Lakeside Farmer's Market and the Ginter Park Library, and we puttered around most of the rest of the time. She did make her first trip to Lowes this morning for some marigolds. And Nikole gave her another bath while I sneezed.

The Baby Is Killing the Garden

I exaggerate. But this year's gardens -- both the vegetable and the flower gardens -- are suffering from a lack of attention and a small invasion of rabbits and chipmunks. But even lax gardening and critters can't stop Mother Nature's long march.

So far this spring, we've harvested sixteen thousand radishes; several pounds of carrots; three cherry tomatoes; a small handful of broccoli and about two cups (once shelled) of peas. Not too bad a haul, but several rows of peas suffered at the teeth of the fast-moving yard rodents; the spinach and chard never really took; and the cabbage leafed but never formed heads.

The summer front looks like it might fare better -- our nine tomato plants were phased into the garden over several months in the hopes that we might extend our harvest into early fall. One of the plants already has more than two dozen tomatoes hanging from it, waiting to ripen. Fortunately, rabbits don't much like tomatoes (or peppers, cucumbers, squash). Our cucumber vines are beginning to sprawl and are littered with yellow flowers that promise a summer bounty, and the zucchini is equally prolific. There are also several pepper plants and a cantaloupe vine in the garden.

And a few weeds.

It's the beans that are the problem -- three rows of green and purple bush beans, loaded with flowers and fast-growing pods. The rabbits are slowly chewing them to the ground, advancing into the center row, plant by plant while we sleep. Today, I harvested a small handful of beans. If the plants survive, we'll get a couple of good servings later this week.

I planted 18 large, yellow-headed marigolds around the garden this afternoon -- old-timers swear the smell drives away rabbits and chipmunks. I also put a second crop of beans into the ground.

Nikole did the heavy lifting -- weeding the back half of the garden, which had been overgrown with an assortment of invasive greenery.

On the floral front, we've been blessed with a bumper crop of perennials, but the annual cut flower efforts have been stymied by half-assed planting techniques, chipmunks devouring new shoots and dry weather. After weeks of trying to get zinnias to take, we finally have several dozen new zinnia sprouts emerging -- I'm just waiting for the chipmunks to discover them.

The Baby Factory: Lessons and Moments

Here we are -- Thea's two month anniversary in the big, bright world. She's doing great for someone who showed up four weeks early under so much duress, including blood loss during an emergency c-section and a week in the NICU/PCN. And having me change her diaper so tentatively those first few days.

She's really a different baby than she was -- definitely not a preemie anymore. She left the hospital at 5 pounds and 11 ounces and is currently nudging 10 pounds. That extra four pounds is significant. She hangs out with her eyes open more. She lifts her head and looks around when you hold her. And she doesn't mewl anymore. No, Thea lets loose with a righteous cry when things aren't going her way. Did I mention that she has outgrown the first batch of clothing we'd accumulated, including some adorable owl-themed outfits from Nikole's Swedish friend, Nina?

Thea's stuff has become more pervasive. Not the stuff in her diapers. Her stuff all over the house. It seems like every room has multiple perches -- car seats and bassinets and playpens and bouncy seats and tummy time floor mats abound. It has become increasingly difficult to manage my stress by managing my environment. Not only has my environment taken over its own management, but I actually don't have enough energy to pick up another random piece of paper and put it where it belongs.

Not to make light of the notion of torture or diminish the more challenging experiences of other parents, but I have a genuine appreciation of sleep deprivation. I'm actually able to get two and three hour blocks of sleep at night, but those accumulated days with four hours of sleep make for barely tolerable days. I inevitably flag at about mid-day at work, and come home more tired than when I left.

Routine is apparently something we suck at initiating. But what routine we're developing works. When Thea wants to cooperate with our devious machinations.

One of the best routines -- from my semi-exhausted perspective -- are those evenings when I've climbed into bed shortly after nine o'clock, tucked Thea into my chest and fallen asleep. When she cooperates and curls into my chest with a series of deep sighs and whimpers, we're all happy -- Thea and I get to sleep and connect, and Nikole gets a few exhausted hours of alone time.

Without a doubt, the more powerful blessing of the past two months for me has been watching Nikole grow into this role of motherhood with an energy and a commitment that astounds me. Not because I doubted her capacity, but because I just didn't understand the enormity of this parenting gig. I have a much better appreciation for my own mother.

It's pretty astounding to see her engage Thea literally around the clock. She does all of the feeding, most of the diaper and clothes changing, most of the comforting and soothing. While I may wake up briefly when Thea needs to nurse at night, it is Nikole who physically climbs out of bed to feed her. And through her own exhaustion, she sits amazed and delighted that this little gem is part of our lives. It's pretty beautiful to see how Thea has washed away the grief and heartache of the last three years for both of us, and helped us see into the future.

Happy two month birthday, Thea.

The Baby Factory: First Father's Day

Thea spent most of last night sleeping on my chest -- except for a few hours of nursing and being awake with Nikole, and an hour with Nikole after I woke.

That hour gave me time to read the Times-Dispatch and Washington Post, drink some coffee and stare mournfully out the back door at the overgrown yard and garden demanding some attention. When Nikole got up to feed Thea, I fixed us both large bowls of cantaloupe, watermelon and blueberries -- I had whole grain bread with peanut butter and honey, while Nikole opted for buckwheat waffles.

For Father's Day, Thea had gone by Plan 9 Records to buy two tickets to the Old 97's show at Toad's Place in July. Hopefully, she also secured a baby sitter while she was there, since her mom is coming with me.

Then it was out into the muggy outdoors. I mowed and trimmed the backyard, hacked away at the overgrown hyacinth vines and slipped off to Lowe's to get some dirt and an extension cord. But it wouldn't be a trip to Lowe's if I didn't come home with something to plant -- an eighth tomato plant, a cantaloupe plant and another batch of cut flower seeds (zinnias, sunflowers and the like).

When I came inside to fix our lunch, Nikole had Thea down on the floor doing a little "tummy time" on her play mat. She managed to lift herself up enough to turn her head and change her own vantage point. Because she's built Ford tough. I got down on the floor with her for a while and posed for photos. As I struggled to get my old, lanky frame off of the floor I realized that I am not built Ford tough.

We fiddled around much of the afternoon -- went to get some food for Rilo; fed Thea; cleaned the kitchen. Nikole worked in a quick shower and brief nap. Then our friend Tom stopped by for a while, followed by a visit from Thea's Omie. While Nikole nursed Thea, my mom and I walked around the yard and admired all of the weeds devouring our beds.

I ended my Father's Day much the way it began -- in the yard. I cut the front yard and watered the beds where I had planted seeds earlier in the day.

Nikole made a delicious dinner -- an orzo, red pepper, spinach and garlic chicken sausage melange. I think we're destined for an early bedtime after a most excellent first Father's Day.

The Baby Factory: Wearable Art

I started wearing the baby to bed this past week.

I've been coming home from work pretty drained -- a lot of us are having to give 110% all day long, and show up at the top of our game. And while Nikole continues to bear the brunt of nighttime feedings, I've probably been averaging five hours of sleep a night. I swear there was a time in my life when that was a lot of sleep.

So, when I hit the hay shortly after 9 o'clock, Thea comes with me. I sleep on my back and she sleeps on top of me on her tummy. She usually wakes a bit after midnight ready for more food, which is when Nikole nurses and puts her to bed.

I like to think that everyone wins. I get some extra sleep. Thea gets some extra sleep. Nikole gets some time to herself without me or the baby.

Wet Dogs Stink

Rilo made a half-hearted return to the water yesterday. Half-hearted in the sense that it was hot; the flies were bad; and her puppy playmate was nowhere to be found. And -- oh, yes -- that baby got all of the attention.

Last year, when we introduced Rilo to Nikole's grandfather's house on the Chesapeake Bay, she was a puppy. She was cute, excitable and very endearing. Take a look below -- Rilo fresh from the water during Memorial Day weekend of 2007.

Now she's just a dog.

Not that being a dog is a terrible thing. And she's still pretty darned cute.

It's just that she's getting lazy in her old age. A year sure can slow you down. After the above romp, Rilo spent the rest of the day biting at flies in the grass and dozing on the cool linoleum floor.

It really is a dog's life as far as she is concerned.

Three Generations of Fathers

There is something different about this Father's Day, some eleven years after the death of my own dad and just over 40 years since the death of his own father. Being a dad for the first time makes me wonder how Thea's grandfather, my dad, would have experienced his fourth granddaughter.

All I have to do is watch my mom with her newest grandchild, my first child, to know that my dad would have been beside himself to have met Thea. To have seen his youngest child transformed into a father. Or I can dig back in my memory to that moment early in 1991 when he met his first grandchild, my nephew Christopher -- or glance at the photos of a three-year-old Christopher sitting on his Paw Paw's tractor.

I may only have one regret remaining in my life -- that my daughter will never know my father beyond photographs and stories.

That's all I had of my dad's father, who died of a heart attack two months before I was born. I've found it easy to romanticize my grandfather, a frustrated painter who ran a small grocery store on Mulberry Street. Last month, after my first public poetry reading, my mom emailed me. One of the poems I read, "My Grandfather's Art," was built around tendrils of my grandfather's life. She wanted me to know more.

He and your grandmother, with your uncle Rudy and Bill and your father, lived with your great-grandfather and his wife on Shepherd Street (I think it was an apartment). Your grandmother became the caretaker of your two aging great-grandparents. I’m not sure what your grandfather did before he was married or right after, but when The Great Depression occurred, your grandfather became a sign painter in order to feed his family. It was grueling work. He worked in the rain, the cold, the heat, the snow standing on scaffolds and on the tops of buildings...

As I read her letter that detailed many of her memories of her father-in-law, I thought about the memories I would share with Thea about her own absent grandfather. I hope that I will share his whole story, as best as I know it. And while I wait for her to grow to an age where her curiosity will trigger those conversations, I will spend my time with her being the best father I know how to be -- one part my dad, one part my mom, and one part the father they helped create.

Happy Father's Day, dad.

The Baby Factory: Chubby Bunny

Thea lands on week eight with a fleshy thud -- I would weigh just over 320 pounds if I had gained weight at the same trajectory as she has. On Tuesday, she weighed in at 9 pounds and 5 ounces -- which is about 3 pounds and 10 ounces since she left the hospital seven weeks ago.

Nikole has a detailed post up today on the diaper collection service we used over the past month -- a gift from my mom. We've gone back to the fancy organic diapers and are preparing for the cheerful fun of washing our own cloth diapers some time in the near future.