With the brutal Vegas winter weather dipping back into the 60s, we decided to take advantage of the moment. Red Rock Canyon is a marvel of Vegas. Just minutes outside town, you can hike, climb rock faces, ride a bike along the scenic loop and visit never know you were within miles of a major entertainment city. And yet, I haven’t been in probably ten years. So we went hiking.
I want Logan to grow up doing active, interesting, things. This means that I have to do active interesting things, which is good, because I need motivation to get off my ass and do stuff sometimes.
We hiked out to Lost Creek, a short little jaunt of less than a mile that ends in a seasonal waterfall. The BOB stroller did not turn out to be as adept at hiking as I thought it would. I should amend that. It was great at hiking. It was terrible at bouldering.
We left it behind and I carried him the rest of the way.
He seemed to enjoy himself, but it’s hard to tell with Logan sometimes.
As usual he was most interested in the mundane, and delighted in walking in the gravel around the visitor’s center, and climbing on the benches.
The holidays were a busy time. It seems like they’re always a busy time for us. Between Cameron’s semester finals, and my acute case of Bahhumbug, it seems like we never have the time to do the things that need doing around the end of the year. This year was a little different though. Cameron was graduating with a Phd in Engineering, and we had a 1 year old demanding our constant attention. So, we had like, double negative time. Is that a thing? I hope so, cause that’s what we had. It’s the middle of January, and I just now feel like we’re returning to normal.
In rapid succession Cameron defended her thesis, we flew to Texas for Thanksgiving, Cameron attended her graduation ceremony, Grandpa Glenn showed up for an early Christmas, shortly followed by real Christmas celebrated at four different households, Christmas break, New Year’s Eve, Grandma Deb’s Boot Camp, New Year’s day and finally first day in the toddler classroom.
So you can see it was busy.
November was Logan’s first airplane trip.
December was Logan’s first tricycle,
and first set of blocks featuring the Periodic Table of Elements.
January was Mommy and Daddy’s first night out alone in nearly a year.
We started stacking blocks.
We wore funny hats.
We got our picture taken with Santa.
And we played with many, many, empty cardboard boxes.
Where ever you are tonight, stop to take a moment to think about those things that have made your life better. Those things that you are thankful for. Even the unexpected blessings.
I find that the last year has put me in a reflective mood. It seems like I am more or less constantly reflecting on where I am, what I’m doing and what I’ve done. Sometimes I discover something new about myself, or those around me. Sometimes I accept a truth I’ve denied to myself. Sometimes I simply marvel at the passage of time and how my life has changed. Mostly though, I find myself thankful for where I’ve ended up.
I think it’s safe to say that the me of 20 years ago not only wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, imagined the me of today being where I am right now. That younger me would no doubt be a little disappointed with some of the choices I’ve made. That’s cool. I know that kid, he’s kind of a dumbass. I don’t have a high regard for his opinion. I think I made the right choices. When I watch this little man grow, I know I made the right choices.
I am very thankful for my boy, for my lady, for my family. I hope, whomever you are, regardless of your circumstances, that you have something to be thankful for. I do, and I want everyone to feel as good as he makes me feel.
Even though he’s appeared to be on the very precipice of learning to walk for close to four months now, Logan still has yet to take more than a few steps at one time. Those few steps are rare, and frequently performed just in the peripheral vision of his mother or I leaving us to wonder if it was a hopeful mirage, or the same kind of confirmation bias that leads people to believe they saw a UFO.
He does, however, love to push around chairs and the like. They slide easily over the tile and make the most horrendous noise, something I believe he enjoys. His favorite pusher is a little stool that Grandpa Ron got him for his birthday. It used to be decorated with letters that spelled out his name. He fairly swiftly removed the vowels for some reason, leaving the stool labeled “L G N.” The stool is light enough, and small enough that, unlike the dining room chairs, he can easily change direction to navigate around the kitchen and dining room.
His stamina for this game is sometimes staggering. Last night he did more than a dozen laps around the kitchen island, screeching in joy nearly constantly. The frequency with which he entertains himself in this fashion leads me to believe that the sole reason he’s yet to actually walk, is to irritate us. To keep us on the edge of our seats. To extend the drama like some twisted J.J. Abrams version of the first year of his life. At any moment I expect him to conclude the drama by standing up, producing a meerschaum pipe, and quite plainly begin to explain the complications with time travel and avoiding paradoxes that eliminate your own existence.
The babbling you can hear him engaging in during that video comes and goes, ranging from single phonemes that have begun to take meaning, to lengthy dissertations on topics that only he seems to understand. The detail and length of the babbling has reached the point that at least one preschool teacher asked if he spoke English, presuming that his lectures were being given in another worldly language. I guess it’s also possible that he’s communing with spirits, but for the time being I’ve chosen to believe that he’s simply invented his own Nellish language to satisfy a need to discuss topics that interest him. Judging from what he points at during these orations, the topics include; the physics of airplanes in flight, social behavior of household felines, the mysterious applications of car keys, the principles of electricity as used in residential lighting, bananas, the hidden agenda of screen savers featuring fish, and physical benefits of stair climbing exercise.
This has been a year full of new experiences and new revelations both about the world around me, and myself. It has been a year of reflection on my past, and my relationships with my family. More than anything though, it’s been a fast year.
In only a year Logan has grown out of being a warm to the touch biological machine designed to process food into poop, pushed straight on through infancy, and become a little boy.
He had his first birthday and all the sudden he’s a little man.
Still not really walking though. Kind of a lazy little man. He’ll stand up sometimes, and every once in a while he’ll take a step or two. Not soon after though, a confused expression wanders across his face that says “Why am I using my legs like a sucker?” and he gently settles back into a crawl.
His birthday party went off splendidly. A lot of our friends showed up to help him celebrate. The Taco Man came, and made tacos for everyone. The BEST tacos. Little street tacos prepared on the spot. He brought his own griddle so the meat was hot and fresh, a whole table of salsas and condiments and giant jug of pineapple juice. It was like having authentic Mexican street tacos right in our backyard, without all the pesky dysentery. Taco Man is awesome.
Our friend Kat made Logan just about the best cake ever. Three tiers with an edible train that ran along the outside toting a little tiny personal cake for the birthday boy. I helped. I made the little sculptures of Logan and Puddles out of gum paste.
Not only was it beautiful, it was delicious.
Logan though so to. It was his first taste of cake. Pretty near to his first experience with refined sugar, as his mother and I have very carefully warded his diet.
He seemed to enjoy it.
He also enjoyed opening his gifts.
Although sometimes it appears he enjoys the paper included with the gift more than the gift.
With Logan’s first birthday coming up in less than a week, we took the little fella to Disneyland to celebrate. When we started planning the trip, it seemed like a great idea. Disneyland is one of Cameron’s favorite places and I enjoy it as well. I enjoy it most when I’m not standing in line or eating terrible food, but I enjoy it nonetheless. Including our son in the family tradition of listening to me complain about the crowds and long lines felt like the right thing to do.
In retrospect, he may have been a little young to really enjoy the trip. The took him on a few rides that had mercifully short lines and were geared toward the younger attendees. Attractions like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Peter Pan’s Flight, some new Winnie the Pooh ride, It’s A Small World, and the carousel all seemed like low key low impact attractions that he may find visually stimulating without being too stimulating or chaotic.
His reaction to these rides ranged from astonished disinterest to disturbed terror. For some reason, Peter Pan’s Flight was highest on the list of Rides That Terrified My Son.
The carousel, was at first startling, but he soon settled into a state of unaffected boredom, bordering on confused detachment.
Confused detachment appeared to be his primary state for the entire weekend. Interactions with costumed characters earned scowls of disbelief or outright impassive stares. At first I was concerned about it, but after some consideration I realized that to an infant, Disneyland is probably a lot like an extended hallucination where your fragile understanding of the world around you is constantly challenged if not outright fractured.
Forest creatures are animated, enlarged, anthropomorphized, and personally engage you. The laws of physics are constantly breached. You are stimulated by visions of things that can’t possibly exist and constantly bombarded by auditory and visual stimulation that is difficult to process at the best of times.
Disneyland for infants is like a bad acid trip that lasts for days.
No wonder he was upset by the idea of flying over London in a sailboat. Add to this the fact he spent the majority of the weekend strapped into either a car seat, a stroller or a high chair, and it should be no wonder that Logan’s favorite Disneyland attraction was our hotel room. It was the only place where reality wasn’t warped and he was allowed to move around under his own power. Looking back on the weekend, it may have been more interesting to him if I had just piled a couple thousand dollars on the floor of a Super 6 and lit it on fire.
Interestingly, one of the few attractions that held his interest and he seemed to enjoy, was the Ferris Wheel, a contraption that I find simultaneously and dichotomously boring and terrifying. He appeared mesmerized by the motion and altitude.
His mother and I had fun though, and I suspect that the trip was largely for our benefit anyway. Logan is unlikely to have any coherent memories of the weekend, but we will cherish the memories of his first trip to Disneyland for years to come.
I think we’ll wait a few years before going back though. Maybe until he’s old enough to go on roller coasters with his mother. That’s a chore I will willingly abdicate so that I can enjoy my favorite ride at Disneyland. The bench.
July was a busy month around here. The evidence of this is that I’ve not filed an update here in over a month. At the end of July I exhibited with World Famous Comics at the San Diego International Comic Con. It is the largest convention of it’s kind in the world, and attendance this year was in the range of 140,000 people. It’s a lot of fun, and I’ve met a lot of really good people there over the years. But it’s physically taxing. I’m not as young as I used to be, and every year it gets harder to stand in a booth for 8 hours and then spend all night drinking.
After a week of that, it takes me a while to decompress and get back in the swing of my normal life.
The past month has been full of milestones.
We had our first boo boo that required a bandaid.
We discovered that kitchen cabinets open.
We had our first fist bump.
We learned that toilet paper is fun.
We started feeding ourselves.
We turned 10 months old.
We took our first walk in the stroller without the car seat.
Of course, I’m using the royal “we” to speak about Logan. I’ve already done all those things. Except feeding myself. That’s a new milestones for me as well.
The doctor gave Logan a clean bill of health during his July checkup and he weighed in at 17lbs. Still very much on the small side, but he continues to grow at a pace he’s set for himself. Any concern we have for his low weight is diminished by watching him eat. Logan can hold his own spoon now, and about 2 times out of three even manages to get the food in his mouth.
Two more months and my little fella will be a year old.
Making it to 9 months means crossing a lot of milestones off your checklist of developmental activities. Logan has mastered the pincer grip, which, as it turns out, is a real thing, and not part of a super villain’s oeuvre.
He grabs food, puts it in his mouth and almost all the time completely avoids choking. This is significantly more difficult than it appears to me as an adult, and you can read the concentration on his face while he slowly and determinedly grasps a treat, studies it, and crams it in his crier.
Most of the time, the treat is even food. Okay, some of the time.
Pretty soon I expect he’ll even be playing the piano, instead of just banging on it with blocks and drooling on the keys.
Logan long ago mastered sitting up, and has moved on to standing with the assistance of inanimate objects. After a little bit of practice, he nailed the difficult transition from standing to sitting.
Crawling is something that he still does in the manner of a wounded soldier avoiding machine gun fire, dragging one leg and pulling himself along the floor on his belly. He has, however, increased the speed and range with which he employs this maneuver, as well as the volume and frequency of the excited calking noise that pin points his location in the home. He’s like a bat. That crawls. Sometimes with surprising speed.
Increased crawling has led to increased exploration, frequently at the expense of his parents nerves. No, you can’t play with the bowl of crushed glass, or the pond full of piranha wearing their laser helmets. Put down that hand grenade young man. And keep your distance from covered electrical outlets!
We anticipate he will start walking any week now, at which point I’m certain he’ll become much easier to keep track of.
Mark Twain wrote, “he laughs best who laughs least.” Far be it from me to question such a notable American scribe, but my boy Logan is putting that to the test. He not only laughs like a maniacal super villain huffing helium, but when he gets going, he’ll do it for a really long time.
