Happy Birthday, Baby Girl

At this exact minute three years ago, Greta Corleen Merrill changed our lives forever. Here's how I summarized it in the journal I kept during our 20-day hospital stay:

How you entered the world: Scarlet, wet, tiny, crying. When they pushed on your skin, it looked like sunburn. You peed on the pediatric nurse, all over her blouse. You emptied your bowels about three minutes into your life, too. These are the things that make fathers proud. As for vitals, you were 4 lbs., 3 oz., and 17.6" long. Your feet were up by your ears when they tugged you out. It's 3:11 p.m. now - you're five hours old.

It all seems so far away now, as I watch you planting flowers with Grandma or herding your friends on the playground. You're an amazing little girl and I'm the luckiest father in the world.

Par-tay!

The birthday bash was a huge success. Greta requested a flower theme, and Mommy and Grandma Vickie went all out.

The kids (8 of 'em ranging from 9 mos. to 9 years) started with a flower crown craft. Greta refused to use the foam stickers to spell her name, but she made a beautiful ladybug crown.

Next up was cake, a spectacular Betty Crocker Super Moist yellow with a splash of green food coloring and pink and green frosting.

We capped things off with a round of pin the butterfly on the flower. Nobody but Grandma Vickie would wear the blindfold, resulting in a nice orderly row of flowers.

Greta opened a few gifts, but we have half a dozen more to tear into later this afternoon. I'll give a full report on our friends' largesse later.

Signs of spring

Grandma Vickie arrived this afternoon. The purpose of her visit is three-fold: 1) Plant enough flowers to qualify our house for the Philadelphia Flower Show; 2) Cultivate our garden so when she leaves we can nurture carrots, squash and green beans to death; and 3) Celebrate the 3rd birthday of Greta Corleen Merrill (observed on Saturday, official on Monday).

I just got home about an hour ago, but can so far report that the kitchen dishes are done, the house smells like birthday cake and there are about 45 varieties of flowers in the soil below our front bushes.

Steppin' out

Sorry for the two-day break. I think Carey exhausted herself with her recent fit of blogging and I was just feeling kind of blase about life. Just found this photo in our archives. Note the high heels. My little baby is growing up way too fast.

Rain, rain go away!

Yet another rainy day in Jersey led us to Imagine That! with Greta's friend, Duncan, and his mom, Nicole. The kids had a great time, even with a throng of school kids field-tripping from PS 38 just one step behind them. Enjoy the show!

Sunday in the park with the Merrills

An overcast end or beginning to the week, depending on your religious calendar. We spent the morning running errands and upgrading our Costco account to Executive status. After some afternoon yardwork (note: first lawn moving on April 27), we ventured to one of the nearby playgrounds, Grove Park, where Greta tried out her Schwinn Roadster for the first substantial time:


And Lincoln crawled through the tunnel for the first time. Well, halfway.



I also caught this moment on camera. Lincoln is kissing a lot more these days, which makes us both feel like the luckiest parents in the world.

Cousins

Max & Esme made the trip to South Orange today. We spent a little time in the backyard playing soccer, picking dandelions and blowing bubbles. The latter was probably the biggest hit. Powered by two AA batteries, a little rubber fan blows air through half a dozen holes, making hundreds of bubbles in just seconds. We then walked downtown, stopping on the way to the playground for lunch at South Orange's newest establishment, Barrels Hot Dogs. Came home in time to enjoy delicious gourmet desserts from Rye's gourmet grocer June & Ho's.

Just dandy!

Greta loves flowers. She narrates our daily walks, calling out "Tulips!...Look mommy, forsythia!...Daffodils!...A tulip tree!" She has become especially fond of dandelions; she knows she can pick them without asking permission first, and she loves how they turn her hands and face yellow.

Today we made a crown for our little princess, and then she did the sweetest thing: she handed an extra dandelion to Lincoln and said "Mommy, he's my dandelion boy!"

Zzzzzzzz.....

I'd like to return for a moment to that favorite parental subject -- sleep. We focused so heavily on it for a week that I thought loyal readers deserved an update. Drum roll please...

• Lincoln went to bed at 7pm last night and woke up 12 hours later.
• Greta went to bed at 8pm and slept for 11 hours.
• Mommy & Daddy went to bed about 1030 and slept until 7!

So there are some smiles in the Merrill house this morning.

How'd we do it? We let Lincoln cry it out, mostly. Took a couple weeks and I don't think we've fully conditioned him yet, but we're pleased with the results so far. He's not eating any more during the middle of the night and when he does wake up and whine, we check his diaper, comfort him for a minute or so and lay him back in the crib. Depending on his mood he either rolls over and falls back asleep or wails for anywhere from 1-15 minutes. But he always ends up in dreamland -- that's the important point!

A sleep image for this sleep post. This is Greta in something Mommy calls a "backpack stroller." Apparently it was a big hit with the Manhattan nannies at the playground yesterday.

Battery Park Babes

Greta joined girlfriends Emma and "Other Emma" today on an exciting voyage to the Big Apple. After taking her first ride on a NJ Transit train and a NY Water Ferry, she spent hours at the Nelson A. Rockefeller and Teardrop parks. I'm too tired to share many stories, but both Greta & Lincoln had a blast. Here are a few photos.

Earth Day 2008

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils.
-William Wordsworth

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
-William Blake

Belated blogging

I can't believe a month has passed since we made our trip to Syracuse/Rodman, and I feel terribly guilty about not sharing the pictures and tales from our time in the North Country. So if you'll indulge me, here are a few of the highlights.

Greta continued her apprenticeship with master artist Grandpa Jerry. Under his tutelage, I'm sure she'll have her own gallery showing before she reaches middle school. Here they are working on Bluebird in Autumn, which is now framed and on display in Greta's room.


Although Greta and Lincoln have been bathing together for months, I haven't taken any pictures because I am usually flying solo during the bedtime routine. So with grandparents to help, I finally got some nice shots of my wet and wild wee ones. Of course, bath time in Rodman is nothing like bath time in Jersey, as Grandpa let Greta wash his hair, squirt him with her water shark, and splash Splash SPLASH


The kids also enjoyed Grandma Pat's cuddles and story time, and Grandpa Jerry's efforts to get Lincoln to hoist himself up into a proper crawling position. Greta loved having the playground right next door, and really appreciated Great Grandpa Bob's frosted sugar cookies. (He knows how to impress kids!).
We also enjoyed a very nice breakfast at The Depot, where I don't think the waitresses knew quite what to do with so many flirtatious Merrill men!

In other belated blogging news, Lincoln had his 9-month exam on April 9th. He is up to 17 lbs, 1 oz; and is 27.5 inches long. He is in the 5th percentile for weight and 25th for height. (Adjust to 8 months and he is in the 10th and 50th, respectively). The doctor thinks he looks great, especially with his winning two-teeth smile...

Humor

It's amusing watching Greta's sense of it develop -- slowly. She got a Dragon Tales book recently from a friend of Aunt Kathy's that includes this knock-knock joke:

Daffy-dill: Knock, knock.
Emmy: Who's there?
Daffy-dill: Orange.
Max: Orange who?
Daffy-dill: Orange you glad we said yes.

And with that, the flowers agree to leave the Great Gardener Dragon in the sky and go home with Emmy and Max.

Greta's dropped the punch line entirely and created a series of knock-knock jokes that go like this:

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
You.
You who?
You -- Daddy!

She replaces You with any proper noun, but the sequence is the same. Flower. Flower who? That flower! Heart. Heart who? That heart. You get the idea.

We'll work on the comic timing and rhythm, but she has an excellent teacher, ahem, so I expect she'll leave them laughing soon enough.

Carrot rage

Lincoln's always been a good eater, but now that he's trying various real foods, he just can't get enough. He likes to really demand the next mouthful, often with a demonic glint in his eye. Carey managed to capture it on camera this week, and I get to share it with you.

A good morning kiss

As parents, we can bitch and moan about all sorts of things -- lack of sleep, tantrums, and all the rest. But moments like this blow it all away like dandelion puffs in summer.

Parental preference

OK, time to swallow my pride and put this out there for some feedback. A few times each week, Greta inevitably wakes up in the middle of the night. It's usually because she's kicked off her covers and wants to be tucked in again. Sometimes a wet pull-up drags her out of dreamland. In any case, ever since we moved to N.J., she only calls for Mommy. I was thankful at first, knowing that Carey couldn't ignore a direct request and that I could roll over and go back to sleep. But now it's starting to piss me off.

Here's why: For the last month or so, I've gotten out of bed when Greta calls for Carey. I figure I can't breast feed Lincoln, but I can do this, right? WRONG! Greta greets me with a tantrum every time. "I want Mommy!" "You can't tuck me in!" She yells, she stamps her feet, she flops on the ground. And since all that ruckus usually wakes up Lincoln, we haven't pushed the issue. The noise wakes Carey up, she tucks Greta in, and we all go back to sleep.

Sooo ... any other Dads -- or Moms -- have this experience? I know Carey's home with the kids all day and maybe that's all the explanation necessary, but it really is a blow to this Dad's ego! We've tried talking to Greta about it during the day, but she doesn't really get it. Things like: "You have to let Daddy be Mommy's helper in the middle of the night. He loves you, too." She usually just asks for a cheese stick, or her new favorite snack, knox blocks (pronounced "mock, mock").

Home again

I've been apart from the fam for a few days probably half a dozen times since Greta was born, but last week's trip to New Orleans was different. I missed them terribly, and it didn't help when Carey related stories over the phone about Greta crying, "I miss Daddy!," before going to bed.

Anyway, got back Saturday afternoon and met Carey and the kids when they got home from a friend's birthday party. Greta made a big show of ringing the doorbell and yelling, "Surprise!" when I opened the door. She had hot pink lip gloss smeared all over her lips and face, compliments of Alexandria's goodie bag. But boy was she happy to see me! Trailed me all around the house for the next couple hours, showing me things, hugging my leg, generally making me feel like the Best Daddy Ever.

Naturally I didn't capture any of that raw joy on camera. But we spent Sunday afternoon at the Millburn Street Festival and I snapped a couple good shots. One of Greta feeding the calf and another riding the pony. Plus, Lincoln's first Saltine (unsalted, natch).

It's nice to be home.

Little Bunny's tutu

Greta doesn't give any of her stuffed animals actual pet names. Her monkey is Pygmy Marmoset, her bedtime cats are Black Cat and Pink Kittie, and her latest favorite animal to play with is Little Bunny, a wind-up toy from Easter '07 that Greta recently rediscovered at the bottom of her stuffed animal bin.

Little Bunny suffered a severe injury last week when both of her bouncy legs broke off. Thank goodness for the miracle invention of a hot glue gun! As Greta waited patiently for the legs to dry, I explained that although Little Bunny had her feet back, she couldn't wind up and bounce anymore. She gave me a dismissive "OK, mom" reply and then whisked Little Bunny into the playroom to celebrate her speedy recovery. When I followed her a little later, I saw Little Bunny dressed up in a princess wristlet, and Greta matter-of-factly explained to me that Little Bunny might not be able to bounce, but she can still dance!

Tea Time

Greta's friend, Emma, hosted a Princess Tea Party yesterday. Greta enjoyed making cream cheese and jelly finger sandwiches, creating wands with pretzels, frosting, and sprinkles, and sipping punch from a tea cup. Then she got good and dirty playing outside, as all true princesses do!

Stand and be counted

Carey snapped this today moments before catching Lincoln as he timbered to the floor. When she looks at it, she hears a basketball cheer from high school in her head:

"Stand up, up, on your feet. SJC just can't be beat!"

SJC, that's South Jefferson Central, our alma mater, for those of you not from the 'hood.

Places to go

Remember when I asked you, dear readers, to predict when Lincoln would crawl? No winner yet, but I'm still in the running as is my former NBC co-worker Lici. Lincoln is commando crawling up a storm, but he hasn't fully pushed himself off his stomach and supported himself on his knees yet. When I find the time, I'll post a video that shows him in action. For now, here's a photo Greta took of her brother. I downloaded 417 pictures from her kid camera yesterday. Will share more of those sometime soon.

Greta heard a Who!

One month shy of her third birthday, I took Greta to her first movie Sunday. She was very excited until the lights went out and the noise started. Then she snuggled close to me for about 15 seconds, looked around, noticed the emergency aisle lighting and said, "I'm glad those lights are there to keep me safe." The movie was kinda loud at times and she hid her face when the mean eagle chases Horton through the forest, but she toughed it out for the full 98 minutes, which made Daddy feel better about the $16. Here are a couple pix, one inside the theater, one out.

What's 93 years among family?

Robert F. Merrill was born March 22, 1914. He has 9 great-grandchildren. But in his dotage he reminds Carey and me every time we see him with our kids that Greta & Lincoln are the first Merrills. I think this photo takes it one step further and portrays how proud my 94-year-old grandfather is that his family tree will grow at least another branch.

66 years young

Carey and the kids got home today. All together now: YAY! She took 292 photos that I just winnowed down to 257. But that's just the first edit. I'll get it down to a dozen by the end of tomorrow. :-) Seriously, some great shots. This pair was taken on April 1, my Dad's 66th birthday. Greta made him a cherry pie and Carey cooked baked ziti with meatballs. I had tuna from a can and some crackers.