I can hear the boy beginning to squeak through the baby monitor so I’m not sure how much time he’s going to allow me to write anything of consequence. Those wee little monitors control my life now and bark furious orders and bold proclamations. Things are definitely on his schedule and he’s the big boss. This week the boy’s been gaining strength. He’s got little fists of fury and can deliver a healthy kick if you’re not paying close attention. He’s developing intense control of his neck and practices by leaning way back to stare up at the ceiling. He’s still sleeping with gusto and keeps to a fairly regular schedule which helps out a lot.
Kelly’s mother has been around this past week which has been incredibly helpful. I think the ideal ratio for baby parenting is three-to-one. The mother-in-law gave Kelly and I a chance to dine out – just the two of us – Friday night. We were desperate for margaritas, so we went down to one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. Usually this restaurant is packed when we’ve been there on a Friday night. But when we walked in, the seats were sparsely populated. Things seemed a bit off. We took our seats and a few seconds later our happy waiter came over and delivered his opening line: “Hola, can I interest you folks in some chips or some appetizers. Perhaps I can start you out with some Cokes or some waters.”
“No Thanks”, I said. “We want Margaritas! Big ones! In fact just empty out some salad bowls in the back and make our drinks in those.”
“Oh sorry, sir. We lost our liquor license and we don’t have any booze any more. Not even beer.”
As new parents, who rely on the concentrated power and mental stabilization that comes with the healing medicinal properties found in booze, this was far-and-away the worst news anyone had spoken to us since the boy arrived in our arms. A mexican restaurant with no booze is like a bird with broken wings.
Pictured Above: My first attempt at a ReadyMech Flatpack toy. Via Massdistraction.