The Many Faces of Jack

This is from several months ago, but I just found it and it cracks me up:

Birthday Fun

Jack (and the rest of the family) enjoyed a solid three-day stretch of birthday celebration this weekend. Choo-choo trains, fire trucks, water fountains, truck books, pillow pets, balloons, streamers, and little cakes shaped like our favorite animal, the Monkey. It even warmed up enough to go for a walk today!

  

GG showed up Friday morning and got to pal around all afternoon. She even got to spend the night in Jack's room, which is always a good thing because you never know when there might be a Tickle Monster on the prowl. They are sneaky little devils, and often come camouflaged as mothers. So fast, you can't even cathc them on camera, they blend right in, but the smiles they leave behind are unmistakable evidence of their existence.

 

   

Saturday morning the other guests started arriving - Bud and Nana got here while Mommy was picking up her new car, and Matt and Rachel and Callie were just a few minutes behind. We were so lucky to have such wonderful people to join us in celebrating Jack's 2nd birthday - I know he enjoyed the company:

And the attention:

And the cake:

I can't believe this little guy is 2!

   

The Wreck of the Old No. 9

Of course, you have all heard the story of the Wreck of the Old Number Nine, the classic Jim Reeves ballad:

But what you probably didn't know is that, instead of an unexpected oncoming train, the real cause of the disaster was a devious toddler in charge of the track controls that day:

White Christmas

For the first time in a long time, that I can remember, we had ourselves a White Christmas. Now granted, the snow didn't really get going until the evening of the 25th, but hey, that counts!

Greensboro and the surrounding areas (meaning most of the Carolinas) were blanketed with 4-8inches of powdery white goodness, turning our normally nondescript neighborhood into a winter wonderland.  By the time we went to bed, we had a solid half-foot in the yard and on the cars.

Nice wet snow and below freezing temps gave us good accumulation and plenty of snow sticking to bushes and tree limbs. We got up early on Sunday morning and were the first people in the neighborhood to go tramping down the sidewalk (I mean, who else gets up at 6:15 on the day after Christmas?). We bundled up in our snowsuits and had a jolly time tramping through the powder, watching Dean run around like a ninny. I think he has a different gear that he reserves for bunnies and fresh powder, and the gleeful expression on his face would make you swear he's a heli-skiier. He also likes to eat snowballs, which is good, because Jack and I like to throw them, and we make a good team.



We also got to build a snowman, which despite the protests of some other household inhabitants, I insisted we do before Sunday was over, even if that meant suiting up at 5pm to catch the last half-hour of light. It took some cajoling to get Jack out the door, but once he was out in the snow he didn't want to come in. All in all, we are one goulish snowman and several great snowdays richer this Christmas.

 

Dean, Ghost Dog of the North

Jack in the Box

Jack had the most fun this year with a cast off container of another present - I had forgotten just how much fun a big empty cardboard box could be. But fortunately for us Gran remembered!




Christmas was surprisingly fun and low stress this year. It is just so much fun having kids, because they add a dimension and dynamic that you seem to lose a little more with each year, and they just bring it right back. Jack in particular had a great time, really getting into the presents and santa and hugging new relatives and taking ornaments off the Christmas tree.

Out-takes from Christmas Card 2010 Photo Shoot #1

If you can't tell from the title of this post, tonight's attempt at capturing the perfect photo for the 2010 Little Shaw's Christmas Card did not go as well as planned. We got some good shots, but nothing that quite lives up to the standard set last year. It was hard to get this light right, with the tree and the lamps and the windows, and those little buggers move fast. We'll try again tomorrow, and let you know how it goes.

First we tried a couple of Olin Mills arrangements, just for the auld lang syne. The result was about what we anticipated - cute, but a little contrived. Although you can't quite tell it in every shot, I think Caroline is more of a ham than Jack (I mean, she's definitely chubbier, but I meant a camera-ham).

This shot was a contender. You'll just have to wait a few weeks to see what shows up in your mailbox. How long until Christmas??

  

 

Some of the real outtakes. Our kids are pretty darn funny sometimes, just not at the same time.

Jackson Standard Time

We have really been doing the Lord's work trying to get Jackson to sleep like a normal human. The first 9 months, he didn't really sleep (at all), but for a while thereafter we seemed to be on the right track, going to bed at a reasonable hour and with reasonable effort, making it through the night, waking up around 6:30 or even 7 on the occasional weekend. But then, a month or two before Caroline was born he just started waking up earlier and earlier, to the point where a couple of weeks ago he rose at a dawn best determined by, say, Newfoundland time (GMT -2:30), demanding that breakfast be served RIGHT NOW. We've tried bringing him to bed with us (Fail), leaving him in there to scream (not much better), and everything in between.

Just a week or two ago, my brilliant wife Doc had the great idea of getting a binary image clock, with a picture of a sleeping bunny tucked soundly in bed that is illuminated during the night, and then a waking playing bunny that lights up when it is "OK" to get up. We've had mild success training him to (more or less) stay quiet and lay down until the waking bunny lights up, at which point in time he proudly leaps to his feet, shouts "UP!", and starts screaming if relief doesn't promptly appear. We've already convinced him that the kitchen doesn't open until 6:30 regardless of when he gets up, but he seems happy to catch 30 minutes of Sesame Street on the couch pre-Cheerios, while Dad nods off until Elmo shows up (c'mon: I challenge you to find anyone that can actually sleep through Elmo. I am a much bigger fan of Cookie and Snuffy, myself).

But then there comes along the timeless enemy of Daylight Savings Time. Or rather, it's evil twin Eastern Standard Time. Not that one is better or worse than the other, actually - it is just the changeup that throws us for a loop. How do you explain to a toddler that 6am is now just 5am? I have no idea.

So we gave it our best shot, changed the clocks over about halfway through UNC's miraculously lucky win over FSU, and instead of getting an hour of extra sleep (or bar time) like we used to in years gone by, we all had an extra hour of afternoon.  Then off to bed to await the impending disaster, the bunny clock faithfully set for the "new" 6am. And wouldn't you know it, he popped up at 5am and started screaming, but 3 minutes later quieted down and slept (or was at least quiet) until I walked in to check on him at 6:15 - or was it 7:15? (I am already losing track). Needless to say, I was surprised, and have absolutely no expectations about Monday morning. Whatever happens, we are apparently not in charge - we're all just on Jackson Standard Time.

UPDATE: Much to our amazement (and frustration, since our alarm still went off at 5:50), intrepid young Jack slept until 6:45 this morning. Great parenting or Luck o'the Irish? We'll let you decide.


You know, writing this blog post made me wonder a bit just how important Daylight Savings Time is. I mean, I would keep it around (if I didn't have children) but only for reasons of nostalgia, not anything approaching practicality. But it is funny how much we adults have just come to accept its strangeness, almost by rote force of habit. In the Fall, we say "sweet, another hour of sleep (or bar time), and in the Spring we grumble but we know that is the penance we pay for staying at Top of the Hill until 3am instead of 2. So we go forth and don't even consider for a minute "not playing along." Ah, the innocence of youth.

The De-Evolution of Man

Our little man in a monkey suit:

I think there is a certain age, before which Halloween is much more fun for the parents than for the kids...



But jack still manages to have a good time.

The Trouble With Three

Getting two of us to look at the camera is relatively easy:

Three or more at the same time is exponentially harder:

We'll get this right eventually.

Playing on the Floor

Family Fun

It didn't occur to me while we getting the kids ready for bed last night, but the growth of our little family is more than just the simple addition of Caroline. There is an entirely new product, maybe even exponential dimension now that she is added to the mix. Like we jumped suddenly from Shaw³ to  Shaw⁴ - that's a big deal. And it is a good thing to see, even though it took looking at a couple of pictures to make it sink in.

We were playing on the floor in Caroline's room, and Jack dragged out the big copy (yes, we have more than one) of Goodnight Moon.  It is less of a story and more of a poem/lullaby, the way the words and phrases weave about and repeat and suddenly come together in a soothing cadence. This edition is a particularly well-worn book, even though it is not yet two years into its hopefully long life. There was a period a couple of months ago when Jack liked to stand on it and try to rip the pages/cover off. So needless to say, it has fought its share of battles. But it is also the book we read to him nightly when he was just 6 or 7 months old, and barely big enough to turn pages, and certainly not old enough to pick his own books - which he now does, recently opting for one about fire trucks or bulldozers, or maybe Hand Hand Fingers Thumb, if he is in an introspective mood about the meaning of the universe (I mean, how else can you interpret "millions of monkeys, drumming on drums....").

But it was the funniest thing having Caroline there, because he brought it over and laid it on the floor and started flipping through the pages, narrating as he went in his lilting pidgin non-english language that we barely understand. I am pretty sure that "Li smo kat funan wip pig, li smo fat yon" means "Goodnight clocks, and goodnight socks". I was able to step back and take a picture or two, and looking at them later I realized just how big of an added dimension that Caroline brings to our lives, and to Jack's. It is fun to have a family.

    

Goodnight stars, Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere.

Crime Fighter

It's just who I am.

There's a Wocket in my Pocket

Well, I am actually not quite sure about the Wocket, but I am quite certain there's a Jertain in the Curtain:

Callie and Caroline - Pseudo-cousins

Callie: That smell was her.

Caroline: Yep, that was me.

Little Sisters

It has been really fun to watch Jackson try to come into his own as a big brother over the past week, even though he still doesn't quite get the full import of what has just happened to his life. Just tonight, he got visible pleasure from making sure that Caroline's swing was rocking visibly, that the built-in rasta music was at a volume which she was certain to hear, and that she had as many pacifiers as she might need stuffed in her mouth.

I think being a big brother is probably a harder task than it gets credit for - it certainly seems more challenging in retrospect for me, because I have to wonder what sort of effect I had on my little sisters. Lord knows you don't get an instruction manual (which Shaw men have an impeccable track record of reading before departing on any task). I think it is easy to be selfish as a kid and damn-near impossible to see your own actions in the greater context of a family that is all growing up together. But somehow it all works out in the end (hopefully).

I stumbled across this picture of me and Sara at some point early in our childhood - possibly when it was just the two of us. It is a fun picture to look at, but probably wouldn't have been as pleasant if it was taken after I hid her favorite doll for several hours, a prank that I was prone to repeat every couple of months. Still, I do really enjoy having sisters and I think that Jack's gentle soul has the makings of a good older brother. Even though he is a little more stressed out this week than on last Tuesday (maybe he just got spoiled by being at Bud and Nana's, or maybe he is acting out a bit), he still is (relatively) gentle and considerate of Caroline. So far, he directs most of his angst to me or mommy, and treats her with equal parts awe and the sort of curiosity one brings to biology lab on dissection day.

Good luck, little guy. It's a tall order to be a good big brother, but I'll be with you the whole way.

Back to Work

Matilda reported this morning for a little bit 'o reserve duty, but not before taking a few pics of the little guy in my boots.

"Do I really have to go to work today?"

Jack learns to smile

Applying our daily war paint...er, I mean sunscreen

Sweet Dreams, Baby...

It's funny how the things you come to rely on have a tendency to change without you really noticing, until one day you look over at you wife and son and think: "My God, when did THIS happen?"

Jack (after about 7 months) used to be a reliable go-to-bedder, as long he could get his little paws on a worn-out, purple screeching monkey. He would clutch the little creature to his face, sucking on a thumb or mouthing the monkey's tail, as his eyes rolled back in his head and he drifted off to dreamy wonderland bliss for (hopefully) a dozen or so hours.

We owe those months of bliss largely to Great Granny Frannie, who had the wisdom and foresight to buy us this little purple monkey while we were at the beach last summer, and it has carried us through a complete cycle of seasons. Little did we know, a stuffed singing bear that she gave us at the beach the year before, while Jack was still a bun-in-the-oven would soon be of near-equal importance.

Our going to bed ritual now includes, as absolutely necessary, Little Monkey, Big Monkey, a Blankey, and Roy Or-bear-son, an electro-mechanical singing stuffed animal, crooning his classic ballad "Sweet Dreams, Baby". Every night, we now rock for a half-hour in Jack's room, clutching both monkeys, wrapped in our Blankey, and repeatedly listening to Roy Or-bear-son sing his song as we nod off to dreams in Mommy's arms.



Sometimes we get fuzz in our mouth. Maybe we should just listen to Bear, instead of trying to eat him.

Sunny Smiles

I snapped this shot of Jack right after he climbed into Dean's bed this morning. He was so pleased with himself, he just couldn't contain it.