Just a photo

I strive to put something up daily, if only to shame family and friends who call themselves bloggers. This is the kids playing in a cardboard box Carey procured for a "make your own truck" activity at Lincoln's birthday party. The weather was too warm and the pools too wet to entice the kids inside for the activity, but Greta and Lincoln enjoyed the boxes after the festivities.

Lincoln's birthday, observed

Wednesday was just a tease. The big throwdown was on Saturday. 10 adults (hosts included) and 10 kids (birthday boy included). We fired up our new Char-Broil and severely overcooked a dozen hamburgers and 8 hot dogs. The fruit plate and hummus dip were just right, however. Filled up two pools for the kiddies while the adults enjoyed Magic Hat #9. Lincoln loved his first taste of cake (surprise!) and all of his presents, which we opened after the guests left. Family and friends are doing their best to support his transportation fascination -- lots of trucks and a couple airplanes.

Daddy's new bike

My cousin referenced it, but I don't believe I've shared this story yet. On June 7 some spineless cretin walked into my open garage and walked out with my Schwinn Voyageur bicycle. We called the cops (a neighbor saw it happen) and I authorized them to shoot to kill, but it's 20 days later and pretty clear that I won't ever see that bike again.

When it happened, Greta wanted to know when the man would return it or when the policemen would find Daddy's red bike. We told her that it was probably gone for good and emphasized the lesson that it's never OK to take something that doesn't belong to you.

I thought that was the end of it, until I came home from work Tuesday and saw this flag flying on the porch. When Greta woke up, she took my hand and walked me outside. "Daddy, we found you a new red bike!"

Birthday sing-along

I was only home for an hour of Lincoln's waking moments on his first birthday, but I had the pleasure of uploading all the day's photos. I like this video best. Simple, and touching.

Ditto

It's not often as a writer that I find myself at a loss for words, but Carey's tribute pretty much said it all. I'm so very thankful for them both. They + Greta truly complete me.

As my father was fond of saying to me from birth through my teens, "Happy Birthday, Bug."

Happy Birthday Little Man Linc!

How is it possible that we are already celebrating your first birthday, Lincoln? The days, weeks, and months have simply flown by. When I look at you these days I marvel how you have grown from this:


to this:
I want to always remember the wonder of this first year with you, and yet the harder I try and hold on to the sweet, precious memories, the more they seem to slip like grains of sand from my tightly clenched hand. I often find myself thinking, "Don't grow up, Linc! Stay this small, adorable, cuddly, mischievous, light-of-my-life beautiful boy who nestles into my neck and plays with my hair and gives me sloppy kisses. Please always be my little one!"

You are such a beloved baby, who brings sheer joy to our lives daily. And to the lives of others. Not a day goes by that I don't find you making people smile, anyone whose eye you catch. You are such a flirt! Countless strangers have called you a little prince, and they just beam at your friendliness and return your tender wave.

You are so incredibly sweet, it is hard to hold a grudge against you even when you fling dinner across the room or bite your sister. Or bite the cat. Or bite me. Yes, you are a biter, and we need to fix that sooner rather than later, lest Greta and Jinx start biting you back. But that's a different blog post. This is dedicated to celebrating you on the anniversary of your remarkable entrance into this world. So let's talk about you...

In addition to your oft-commented-upon sweetness, you are quite the athlete. You haven't taken unassisted steps yet, but cruise around the furniture, practically run when I hold your hands, and crawl with record speed. You have mastered climbing up stairs and are working very hard on conquering how to slide down on your tummy. You love to play with balls, which pleases daddy immensely. Whether you are smacking them with a plastic golf club, rolling them with great accuracy to my outstretched arms, kicking them across the floor, or dunking them through your basketball net, each action is accompanied with serious eyes and a playful smile. You got game, kid, for sure.

You love things that go, especially trucks and planes. You will crawl around the house pushing a car with one hand for minutes on end. You are a great eater, although you become militant if you have to wait for the next mouthful. Frozen peas are one of your favorite snacks. You are finally beginning to like books and you enjoy being read to (previously you thought they were a means of adding fiber to your diet). Your vocabulary is impressive, and you like to jabber with your sister, who seems to enjoy her conversations with you. You are fascinated by Greta, watching her every move and mimicking many of them, like jumping on the bed. You even sing along with her in the car! You love music and are quite the dancer. And after months of frustrating sleep habits, we've finally gotten into a good groove at night and you are also an excellent napper. Hooray! As much as I want to hold these moments fast, I know that even more incredible days are ahead of us.

Lincoln David, you are one of the best blessings I've ever received and every day I thank God for you. Happy Birthday to you!

More from the cousins play date

As usual, Dad's photos trump ours, so here are a few he took (well, Carey obviously took one) last week when all four of his grandchildren were in the same place.

First day in the community pool

$20 per person from June 21 to Labor Day. Two kiddie pools, one with maximum depth of about a foot, one with 2 1/2 feet. Adult pool with a 3 and 10m diving board and lanes long enough that I can barely swim from one end to the other.

He's got rhythm

The Linc videos keep on comin'. We basically switch the camera toggle from photo to video and forget about it. So when we push the shutter the next time we turn on the camera, we end up with a short video instead of a photo. In this case you, dear reader, are the beneficiary.

Lincoln is much more musical than his sister was at 1. Whenever he hears a tune, he does a little dance. It's funniest when he's sitting down, as he is here.

Play date with the cousins

My folks visited my sister this week to care for Max & Esme while Sara was on a business trip to London. Peter's early morning hours precluded him from doing the school/daycare dropoffs, so they took advantage of retirement and drove down. Carey and the kids day-tripped over today. She can fill you in on the specifics. All I have are photos to tell the story.

Good morning!

My apologies to Greta for posting consecutive Lincoln videos, but the kid gets cuter by the day. He's in a nice sleeping rhythm lately, waking at about 6, playing and eating breakfast for a couple hours, then a nice long nap for at least an hour, sometimes much more. He wakes up in a fantastic mood, which Carey was able to capture recently. In fact, you might say she and Linc had a little conversation about it.

Chomp, chomp, chomp

The montage idea didn't pan out, but I did get this one video of Lincoln walking, making chomping noises just like the Hungry, Hungry Hippo he's pushing.

The future awaits

I think it's a matter of weeks, maybe a month, before Lincoln rises out of the primordial soup that is our floor and walks. He spends most of his waking moments pulling himself to a stand. He can even do it now on a flat surface, with nothing but the pressure of his hand on something smooth and semi-vertical (like the TV, or door or whatever). When I find the time, I'll put together a quick video montage of him pushing his Hungry, Hungry, Hippo.

Grandpa Jerry's latest

Retirement's been very good for his artistic productivity. Carey inspired him with this photo of Greta and Jay.

His brush turned it into two variations -- color and sepia (for lack of more painting-specific term).

Art for Daddy

When Greta sat down with her markers to make Rob a Father's Day card, I asked her what she was drawing. "Me," she answered. "And Daddy. And you. And baby Lincoln." Here is her beautiful picture.


For those needing assistance in deciphering the artistic vision of a three year old, Rob is wearing his new yellow shirt with shocking blond hair (far right), Greta also features blond hair (left of Daddy), I have neither hair nor clothes (blue, far left), and Lincoln is truly tiny (faint blue, below Greta's large body and malformed right foot).
[click on the image to enlarge]

We love you, Daddy!

You are one terrific dad.

Thanks for all you do to make our family such a happy one.

In memoriam

Sorry to hijack this blog for a post that has nothing to do with my kids. But perhaps it will serve to teach them that it's important to pay your respects when someone you admire passes away.

First impressions, they say, are lasting.

June 1996: I'm 24, getting my first break in the news industry. I'm a desk assistant at NBC News Washington, and this is my first afternoon assignment meeting. Russert sits at the head of the table, listening as show producers from Today and Nightly News run down what they have planned for their next broadcasts. When they're done, my boss introduces me as the new guy charged with answering phones and distributing faxes. Tim looks at me and asks, "Where you from?

I stammer. "Upstate New York. An hour north of Syracuse. Not far from Canada. A little town you've never heard of. Rodman?"

Tim blows up: "Are you sure? Jefferson County? 23rd District? Congressman McHugh?"

Me, 25 shades of crimson: "Ummm, yes."

Tim: "I want the truth! We're all about the truth in this business and it took me four questions to get it from you!"

Then he laughs -- that red-faced, deep-throated, sincere laugh that I'd hear again and again during my years in the newsroom.

I can't believe he's gone. Journalism has lost a legend.

Kids a trois

Carey just handed me the laptop and said, "you blog." She spent all day with three kids --our pair and Duncan, whose house is powerless after the storm. I wasn't there, so all I can offer you is the visual evidence. She's turning into quite the visual documentarian, even if she's too tired to be a storyteller.

Hydrate or die

That's an old CamelBak slogan, I believe. But it was appropriate here in Death Valley these last few days. Still, the Merrills weren't deterred and spent at least an hour at the playground each day, lubed up like pigs with sunblock. We told Greta how important it was to drink and she made sure her brother stayed hydrated.

Why Sly is no longer bankable

This isn't my kid ... it's Lauren McMahon ... but the photo was too good not to share.

Super cute pic

A friend snapped this at a neighborhood barbecue. Is that called a pompadour?

Best cousins

That's what Greta said to Kate Saturday morning: "You're my best cousin." Carey implores me to point out that she said the same thing to Allison & Emily a couple weeks ago. Still, it's nice to see such familial devotion.

Cousins

Kate and Lauren arrived around 3 p.m., with parents in tow. We immediately departed for one of the local playgrounds in the ginormous chuckwagon Carey purchased during her last trip to Syracuse. (Please post a comment guessing the price.)

We flew a Dora kite and chased each other around the mulch. That made us hot, so we filled up the backyard blue, plastic pool and ran through the sprinkler.

We dined al fresco, then bathed as a triumvirate. The adults enjoyed Chinese food from the wonderfully named Bill & Harry's and are now watching the Yankees lose to the Kansas City Royals.

The director and the doctor

This morning Greta declared that she wanted to play doctor. Before I could respond, she ran to retrieve her doctor's kit, returned, and delivered the following monologue to set the scene: "Lincoln is the doctor. You are the patient. You are going to have a baby, and I am the baby."

Much to her brother's delight, she placed the stethoscope around his neck and said, "You're the doctor, Linc. Check mom out." Then she curled up on my lap in a ball, since I was supposed to be pregnant.


Lincoln listened to my heart, poked me repeatedly in the eyes, and slapped around the blood pressure cuff. I spared Greta the reality of my pregnancies (admission to the hospital for both of them at 28 weeks) and instead translated his babbling to mean that I was healthy, and that it was time for the baby to be born and get checked out by the doctor. Greta rolled off my lap on the rug and let Lincoln examine her, too. Amid giggles and pokes, she said she was fine, too.
Then Greta declared it was time to play chase, and we (Lincoln and I) were "it." What wonderful playmates they are...fingers crossed they continue to be!

A berry special treat

When Grandma Vickie visited last month, she and Greta planted strawberries in our backyard. We have checked the plants every few days since then, patiently waiting for Greta's favorite fruit to appear. I wish I had the camera handy to capture the joyous expression on her face when she discovered a ripened berry today. Fortunately, she was willing to wait to pick it because I told her that Daddy would want to see pictures. So, Daddy in D.C., I hope you enjoy these as much as she enjoyed her first strawberry of the season!