Our nanny, Carley, took this photo of John Patrick today. I really, really like it, although it makes me sad that he's starting to look so much more like a little boy and less like a baby.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Muppets
Friday evening, I met Jude and her mother at David Kidd Bookstore in Green Hills after work. John Patrick had a ball there in the children's book section, running around and around the aisles of books and climbing on the carpeted risers where children sit to hear storytime.
Jude and I bought John Patrick a couple of muppet hand puppets - Big Bird and Cookie Monster. Whenever I put the Cookie Monster puppet on my hand, he hugs it gently and kind of gives it a kiss. With Big Bird, he mostly likes to bite his beak.
Survival in the City
I've mentioned this before, I think, but having lived in the city now for more than six years, it would be difficult for me to move back to the suburbs. I suspect Jude feels the same way. There are three coffee shops within easy walking distance of our house, not to mention at least six restaurants. There's almost always people walking on the sidewalks in the neighborhood. It's nice.
Tonight, after we put John Patrick to bed, I went for a four mile run in the neighborhood. It had rained quite a bit late this afternoon and the streets were still wet. The air was damp and had that smell you only get in the summer, after a rainstorm. Everything smelled clean, somehow. After my run, I walked around the block a couple of times, drinking a bottle of Gatorade and finishing the podcast I was listening to.
Now, I'm sitting on our front porch steps, typing, and listening to a combination of crickets chirping and the drone of traffic in the city. Occasionally, a car drives past the front of our house on Elliott Avenue. It's really peaceful. The maple tree in our front yard - probably my favorite thing about our house - looms in front of me, it's branches filled with lush, green leaves still wet from the rain. It's wonderful that we've had such an unusually wet July, because it's kept the grass and trees green for so much longer than normal.
It's been a nice summer.
Tonight, after we put John Patrick to bed, I went for a four mile run in the neighborhood. It had rained quite a bit late this afternoon and the streets were still wet. The air was damp and had that smell you only get in the summer, after a rainstorm. Everything smelled clean, somehow. After my run, I walked around the block a couple of times, drinking a bottle of Gatorade and finishing the podcast I was listening to.
Now, I'm sitting on our front porch steps, typing, and listening to a combination of crickets chirping and the drone of traffic in the city. Occasionally, a car drives past the front of our house on Elliott Avenue. It's really peaceful. The maple tree in our front yard - probably my favorite thing about our house - looms in front of me, it's branches filled with lush, green leaves still wet from the rain. It's wonderful that we've had such an unusually wet July, because it's kept the grass and trees green for so much longer than normal.
It's been a nice summer.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
"I'm the man."
Bicentennial Mall
Yesterday, after work, Jude, John Patrick and I went to Bicentennial Mall State Park downtown with our neighborhood friends, Rob, Anne Marie and their daughter, Adin. Adin is roughly one month older than John Patrick and the only toddler I've see with eyes bluer than his. Rob and Anne Marie had decided to have a picnic there and were kind enough to invite us, when Jude ran into them after work while taking John Patrick for a walk.
It was a gorgeous evening with very un-July weather. It almost felt like early fall, as Anne Marie spread out the blanket, set up the food and our children toddled across the grass. We all sat together on the grass and ate dinner as the sun set, in view of the State Capitol. What a nice way to end the week.
Fright Night
I'm sitting on our back deck after running 7 miles in Shelby Bottoms, listening to a breeze rustle the leaves in the trees and enjoying 73 degree weather. IN MID-JULY! Evidently, a weather system from Canada has brought unseasonably cool weather into the middle Tennessee area. I don't know about all of that, but I sure am going to enjoy the mild temperatures this weekend. Tonight, we may break the record low of 57 degrees, set in 1976. Wow.
Tuesday evening, after work, Jude and I were upstairs in our bedroom with John Patrick. We were fairly engrossed in conversation, while John Patrick ran around our bed dragging a silk robe of Jude's he had pulled out of her clothes hamper. He was laughing, as were we. Suddenly, he tripped on the tail of the robe and fell straight backwards, banging the back of his head on the hardwood floor. He immediately began crying hysterically and I scooped him into my arms and hugged him. The truth is, I think it scared Jude and me worse than it scared or hurt him.
At dinner, his appetite was fine and for the rest of the evening, he acted completely normal. When I put him down to bed, he fussed a little more than normal, then fell asleep. As a precautionary measure, I called our pediatrician's office and the on-call nurse suggested we monitor him for any unusual behaviors - vomiting, excessive drowsiness, etc. - and to call back if we noticed anything unusual. She also suggested we wake him around midnight and change his diaper. If he woke up and cried, that was a good sign, since it would indicate he wasn't excessively drowsy. I've never been so happy to hear my son wake up and raise hell as when Jude went into his room, woke him and changed his diaper.
On one level, I realize that in his lifetime (and mine), John Patrick will take many, many more falls. That doesn't keep from worrying about him, though, and cringing every time he stumbles as he walks down the sidewalk in front of our house or crawls up the steps to our front porch. In fact, that's probably the single thing that has surprised me the most about parenthood - the constant worry. Is he sick? Is he hurt? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he where he needs to be developmentally? Is he happy? Is he sad? Is he tired? Sometimes, the only thing to do is to take a deep breath, smile and have faith that everything will be fine. That's what I tell myself, anyway.
Tuesday evening, after work, Jude and I were upstairs in our bedroom with John Patrick. We were fairly engrossed in conversation, while John Patrick ran around our bed dragging a silk robe of Jude's he had pulled out of her clothes hamper. He was laughing, as were we. Suddenly, he tripped on the tail of the robe and fell straight backwards, banging the back of his head on the hardwood floor. He immediately began crying hysterically and I scooped him into my arms and hugged him. The truth is, I think it scared Jude and me worse than it scared or hurt him.
At dinner, his appetite was fine and for the rest of the evening, he acted completely normal. When I put him down to bed, he fussed a little more than normal, then fell asleep. As a precautionary measure, I called our pediatrician's office and the on-call nurse suggested we monitor him for any unusual behaviors - vomiting, excessive drowsiness, etc. - and to call back if we noticed anything unusual. She also suggested we wake him around midnight and change his diaper. If he woke up and cried, that was a good sign, since it would indicate he wasn't excessively drowsy. I've never been so happy to hear my son wake up and raise hell as when Jude went into his room, woke him and changed his diaper.
On one level, I realize that in his lifetime (and mine), John Patrick will take many, many more falls. That doesn't keep from worrying about him, though, and cringing every time he stumbles as he walks down the sidewalk in front of our house or crawls up the steps to our front porch. In fact, that's probably the single thing that has surprised me the most about parenthood - the constant worry. Is he sick? Is he hurt? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he where he needs to be developmentally? Is he happy? Is he sad? Is he tired? Sometimes, the only thing to do is to take a deep breath, smile and have faith that everything will be fine. That's what I tell myself, anyway.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Bags
Saturday at Jon and Carley Meade's party, John Patrick enjoyed playing bags. Actually, he enjoyed climbing on the boards and, generally, throwing the bags off the boards, into the grass.
Nanny Cam
This is a cool photo. John Patrick's two original nannies, Carley Meade and Denise Neese. Denise is pregnant and having a boy of her own. We're very excited.
Weekend Update
Another nice, relaxing weekend. After cooking dinner and staying in on Friday night, Jude, John Patrick and I went over to Jon and Carley (our nanny) Meade's house for a party Saturday evening. Lots of games - bags, ping pong, frisbee "horse" on a basketball court - lots of food and beer - and lots of friends. It was great to see some of the folks from the frisbee crowd we hadn't seen in a while.
Today was a great day. John Patrick and I were up early and off to Bongo Java. We sat inside, where it was cool, so he could eat his breakfast. After he finished, he walked around the inside of the coffee shop. Lots and lots of activity and interesting things for him to point and look at. John Patrick really likes coffee shops . . . and bars. So does his old man. Like father, like son, I suppose.
We took a long walk through the neighborhood, then stopped by the soccer fields on 10th Avenue again. I laid down in the shade, called him, and he ran over to me and collapsed in a heap on my chest. We played in the grass for a half hour, then headed home for his morning nap. Then, it was off to church. John Patrick's been great lately, making very little fuss throughout the entire service. It's been nice to sit with the congregation and not upstairs, alone, in the "crying room."
When we first arrived at church and sat down inside, just after the service had started, Jude gave John Patrick a bottle of milk. I had a "Kodak moment," as I watched him recline in her lap, looking up at her, drinking from his bottle. I wanted to frame the picture in my mind, watching my son and my wife sharing such an intimate moment in a place that means so much to us - our church - St. Patrick's.
The last couple of weeks, we've shared a church pew with a nice older lady named Mary. During the service last week and today, John Patrick bravely walked down the pew to Mary, looks at and touches her purse, then scampers back to Jude, sitting next to me. Today, Mary opened her purse and gave him a book. It's amazing how much joy he brings to complete strangers. Mary beamed down at him, smiling, when he picked up the book and brought it down to Jude to read to him.
Incidentally, tomorrow is the 119th anniversary of the laying of the cornerstone of St. Patick's Catholic Church. Now, that's impressive.
This afternoon, while he was napping, we had a big thunderstorm blow through. After a particularly loud clap of thunder, John Patrick woke up and started crying loudly. I went upstairs, got him out of his crib, and sat with him in the glider. I sang quietly to him, as he laid his head on my shoulder. After the thunderstorm passed, I laid him back in his crib and he fell back asleep. It was a nice few minutes to spend with him.
Today was a great day. John Patrick and I were up early and off to Bongo Java. We sat inside, where it was cool, so he could eat his breakfast. After he finished, he walked around the inside of the coffee shop. Lots and lots of activity and interesting things for him to point and look at. John Patrick really likes coffee shops . . . and bars. So does his old man. Like father, like son, I suppose.
We took a long walk through the neighborhood, then stopped by the soccer fields on 10th Avenue again. I laid down in the shade, called him, and he ran over to me and collapsed in a heap on my chest. We played in the grass for a half hour, then headed home for his morning nap. Then, it was off to church. John Patrick's been great lately, making very little fuss throughout the entire service. It's been nice to sit with the congregation and not upstairs, alone, in the "crying room."
When we first arrived at church and sat down inside, just after the service had started, Jude gave John Patrick a bottle of milk. I had a "Kodak moment," as I watched him recline in her lap, looking up at her, drinking from his bottle. I wanted to frame the picture in my mind, watching my son and my wife sharing such an intimate moment in a place that means so much to us - our church - St. Patrick's.
The last couple of weeks, we've shared a church pew with a nice older lady named Mary. During the service last week and today, John Patrick bravely walked down the pew to Mary, looks at and touches her purse, then scampers back to Jude, sitting next to me. Today, Mary opened her purse and gave him a book. It's amazing how much joy he brings to complete strangers. Mary beamed down at him, smiling, when he picked up the book and brought it down to Jude to read to him.
Incidentally, tomorrow is the 119th anniversary of the laying of the cornerstone of St. Patick's Catholic Church. Now, that's impressive.
This afternoon, while he was napping, we had a big thunderstorm blow through. After a particularly loud clap of thunder, John Patrick woke up and started crying loudly. I went upstairs, got him out of his crib, and sat with him in the glider. I sang quietly to him, as he laid his head on my shoulder. After the thunderstorm passed, I laid him back in his crib and he fell back asleep. It was a nice few minutes to spend with him.
I Hear Laughter in the Rain
It's mid-July in Nashville and it's hot, hot, hot and really humid. Practically from the time the sun comes up in the morning until after dark, it's oppressively hot. It's been all I can do to bang out four miles in the neighborhood in the mornings.
Fortunately, we did get some rain this weekend, thanks to thunderstorms Friday and today. Although John Patrick is not real fond of water that's not in his bathtub, he does enjoy playing in the puddles that form on the sidewalk in front of our house after the rain. I took these photograhps Friday, when I got home from work.
99 Luftballoons
Thursday afternoon my mom, Tracy and Tracy's children, Kaitlyn and Matthew, stopped by my office to leave a birthday gift and some birthday balloons. After work, I took the balloons home, because I knew John Patrick would love them. When I walked in the door, he started bouncing up and down, laughing, he was so excited.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Haircut 100
Rather ironic, I think, that I just finished watching "Knocked Up" for the umpteenth time, on the same day John Patrick got his first haircut. The last scene, where Katherine Heigl has the baby, brings tears to my eyes every time. I can remember, vividly, watching it for the first time toward the end of Jude's pregnancy. Thankfully, Jude had gone up to bed, as a result of which she missed the scene where the baby was born. It would have hit a little too close to home for her then, I think.
Anyway, this evening after work, I met Jude and John Patrick at a children's hair salon in Cool Springs for his first haircut. We had a 5:45 p.m. appointment, right before the salon closed at 6 p.m. Jude and I were curious how he would react, but he was fine. No tears and no whining. He sat in the chair, held onto a toy truck, then stuck it in his mouth and stared at himself in the mirror. It was a piece of cake, really.
Scrabbled Again!
Uh, yeah, the circled score is mine. Saturday morning, while John Patrick napped, I spanked Jude, Jim and, most importantly, Jane White in Scrabble. Hats off to Jim, who aided my cause when he successfully challenged one of Jane's many made up words . . . in this case, "ji." Not a word, so Jane lost her turn. Sweet. Sunday, July 5, 2009
Goalie
This morning, John Patrick and I had a nice breakfast outside at Bongo Java. It rained hard last night, so the morning had a fresh, cool feel to it. After breakfast, we walked up Belmont Boulevard, cut over to 12th Avenue, then down to 10th Avenue. We stopped at the soccer fields on 10th Avenue and walked together through the wet grass.
John Patrick enjoyed grabbing on to the net in one of the soccer goals, as I suspected he would. I took some photos from the other side of the goal.
4th of July!
Yesterday, my mom, Jude, John Patrick and I went over to Margaret Walker's house for dinner with Jude's family. We had a nice meal and enjoyed visiting with everyone. It was great to see David and Ann Walker, along with their son, David, all of whom were in for a visit from Wichita, Kansas.
John Patrick seemed to have fun, walking from room to room. He was especially interested in climbing the stairs to the second floor of Margaret's condominium. Not surprisingly, he was not too pleased with me when I wouldn't let him climb up the stairs after he had completed a couple of trips.
The photo here was taken in happier times, while John Patrick was eating his dinner at the party. Later, in unhappier times, he threw up all over his car seat on the way home, about one mile from our house. As I cleaned vomit out of my truck in the middle of a rain storm, I couldn't help but laugh. Fatherhood isn't always as glamorous as you think.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Rick and Stacy Newman
Last Saturday morning, my mother, my sister and I left my house and drove to Akron, Ohio, to attend the wedding of my cousin, Rick Newman. Rick's father is Dave Newman, my father's younger brother. Dave and his wife, Renee, raised their boys (Rick and Rob) in Phoenix, Arizona, although Rick lives and works in Hawaii at present.
I've always felt particularly close to Dave, probably because apart from my mother, he is the closest link I have to my father. When you lose a parent at a young age, like I did, in some ways you spend the rest of your life searching for bits and pieces of information about him or her. Stories, anecdotes, etc., all of which you glean from others, help to fill in the blanks in hour mind of who that person, your parent, really was. That's the way it works for me, anyway. Dave has been generous with me over the years, especially when I was younger, in helping me learn more about my father. I'll always be grateful to him for that.
Dave's sons have almost been like younger brothers to me. When I was in college and law school, I used to get out to Phoenix on occasion to spend time with them. Unfortunately, it had been several years since I had seen them, so I was really looking forward to the wedding.
We arrived in Akron Saturday afternoon, in time to attend the rehearsal dinner, downtown, at a brew pub. It was a treat to see so many people from my father's side of the family, people I just don't get to see often enough - my father's sisters Leslee and Glenda, Dave's family and Leslee's son, Max.
Sunday morning, the wedding day, we all got up and drove over to a fantastic, 30-mile gravel trail along the Cuyahoga River. We broke up into groups, some walkers and some runners. Rick, an ultra marathoner friend of his from Wilmington, North Carolina (Chris) and I had decided the night before to run 10 miles. We ran on the trail out five miles, then back five miles at a pretty good clip - 8:20 miles or so by my watch. I think Rick was a little surprised he couldn't outrun an old man like me. I was pretty impressed with myself when we finished, until I learned Chris had already run 10 miles before he ran 10 with us. Wow.
The wedding was at 5 p.m. that evening, outside, at the Fairlawn Country Club in Akron. It was a nice, brief ceremony, with a Hawaiian touch as Stacy's brother played the ukulele. The reception, afterwards, was inside. We had a nice dinner and danced the night away. It was a fantastic evening, one of the best I've had in a long time. I'm so happy to have had the opportunity to be there.
I've always felt particularly close to Dave, probably because apart from my mother, he is the closest link I have to my father. When you lose a parent at a young age, like I did, in some ways you spend the rest of your life searching for bits and pieces of information about him or her. Stories, anecdotes, etc., all of which you glean from others, help to fill in the blanks in hour mind of who that person, your parent, really was. That's the way it works for me, anyway. Dave has been generous with me over the years, especially when I was younger, in helping me learn more about my father. I'll always be grateful to him for that.
Dave's sons have almost been like younger brothers to me. When I was in college and law school, I used to get out to Phoenix on occasion to spend time with them. Unfortunately, it had been several years since I had seen them, so I was really looking forward to the wedding.
We arrived in Akron Saturday afternoon, in time to attend the rehearsal dinner, downtown, at a brew pub. It was a treat to see so many people from my father's side of the family, people I just don't get to see often enough - my father's sisters Leslee and Glenda, Dave's family and Leslee's son, Max.
Sunday morning, the wedding day, we all got up and drove over to a fantastic, 30-mile gravel trail along the Cuyahoga River. We broke up into groups, some walkers and some runners. Rick, an ultra marathoner friend of his from Wilmington, North Carolina (Chris) and I had decided the night before to run 10 miles. We ran on the trail out five miles, then back five miles at a pretty good clip - 8:20 miles or so by my watch. I think Rick was a little surprised he couldn't outrun an old man like me. I was pretty impressed with myself when we finished, until I learned Chris had already run 10 miles before he ran 10 with us. Wow.
The wedding was at 5 p.m. that evening, outside, at the Fairlawn Country Club in Akron. It was a nice, brief ceremony, with a Hawaiian touch as Stacy's brother played the ukulele. The reception, afterwards, was inside. We had a nice dinner and danced the night away. It was a fantastic evening, one of the best I've had in a long time. I'm so happy to have had the opportunity to be there.
Friday, July 3, 2009
The Bunganut Pig
It's July 3rd, Friday, and I'm sitting upstairs, eating lunch, at my all-time favorite restaurant/bar, the Bunganut Pig at Carter's Court in Franklin, Tennessee. It's truly a Franklin landmark. Before we bought and renovated the building we're in now, our law office was in Carter's Court, behind the Bunganut Pig. Mark, Chas and I had many "partner's meetings" downstairs, in the original pub, in the five years our office was here.
The current owner of the Bunganut Pig, Mark Goodson, is a friend of mine. He and his wife, Amy, have done a fantastic job since he's owned it, renovating the downstairs, opening a new, upstairs portion of the restaurant with pool tables, eliminating smoking and providing for outdoor seating. The transformation has been nothing short of amazing. I'm watching Andy Roddick vs. Andy Murray on one of the new flat screen, high definition televisions, just outside the art gallery Mark Goodson and Mark English are opening soon.
The current owner of the Bunganut Pig, Mark Goodson, is a friend of mine. He and his wife, Amy, have done a fantastic job since he's owned it, renovating the downstairs, opening a new, upstairs portion of the restaurant with pool tables, eliminating smoking and providing for outdoor seating. The transformation has been nothing short of amazing. I'm watching Andy Roddick vs. Andy Murray on one of the new flat screen, high definition televisions, just outside the art gallery Mark Goodson and Mark English are opening soon.
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