(Blueberry pancakes really compliment his eyes, don’t you think?)

Most of the time I have to put the camera away because he stops whatever cute thing he’s doing to reach for it.  Even worse, we seem to be having video driver problems so I still can’t watch videos and thus can’t put them up for you.  Sadly, fixing this doesn’t rank that high on the priority list.  Certainly lower than getting the dent in the car fixed, and I haven’t even started looking for a place to do it.  (Don’t worry, wasn’t my fault!)  Lower than installing the rug we just got the other day.  Lower than finally finishing our unpacking.  Lower than the neverending list of errands to keep the house running.

We tend to prefer to spend the little time we get to spend together relaxing and having fun together.  And when I say “little” I mean “little.”  Last week we got most of Sunday.  Maybe a couple minutes in the morning here and there, which really shouldn’t count because I am operating on an inhuman level of sleep at that time.  This week it doesn’t look like we’ll get more than an hour or two at a time.  Still, even though our time is limited, it is quality.  Walks, playgrounds, the occasional Orange Julius.  There are a lot of things that don’t get done.  But we feel okay about our choices.

Hopefully things will get easier when our new nanny starts this coming week.  We won’t be switching back and forth between caregivers anymore and she can come early so I can get some things done.  Maybe then we can see about that video driver thing.

Our Bug is all over the place.  He runs.  He throws.  He builds.  He is a fan of his new blocks, though he hasn’t quite figured out the concept of the tower yet.

Mostly he just likes to put them together and take them apart.  Kind of like how he enjoys opening and closing doors.

He likes to play with these little cups in the bath.  However, he’s also taken to drinking out of them.  It’s good, because his cup skills have been rather lackluster until recently.  But it can’t be good to drink too much bubble bath at one time.

I have to say, that first year wasn’t the easiest for me.  Some people are baby people, and I’m pretty sure I’m not one of them.  But I am definitely enjoying 13 months.  He runs around.  He plays with every single one of his toys.  He picks himself up when he falls down.  He even likes to cuddle.  He cuddles only on his own terms, but he cuddles nonetheless.  If I weren’t pinned beneath him on the couch, I would try to take a picture.  Maybe I’ll have to smuggle the camera into the couch cushions and snap a photo before he notices…

I have continued to put him almost entirely in baby clothes, but today he has on his first pair of jeans.  As if he didn’t look enough like a little boy already.

]]> http://theseversons.net/?feed=rss2&p=620 0 http://theseversons.net/?p=613 http://theseversons.net/?p=613#comments Mon, 16 Aug 2010 15:22:29 +0000 Jess http://theseversons.net/?p=613 While I was miserable and pregnant, I learned knitting to pass the time.  I talked about it a lot on the blog (probably because I wasn’t doing much else) and I occasionally displayed pictures of my amateurish work.

The biggest project I undertook was a baby afghan for a certain Nugget.  It involved fancy things like cabling and weaving together several panels of work.  I spent months on it.  Early on, there were signs things weren’t going well.  I posted a picture after finishing 3 panels and did a little creative styling to make them look the same size because they really weren’t.  I was concerned.  If you’re having trouble imagining, here’s a visual aid.  (Visual Aid #1: Concern.)

But it only got worse after that.  They were supposed to be the same size, and while they all resembled one another, some were thicker, some were longer, it was a big mismatch.  When I wove them all together, I cried.  I’d put in so much effort and it looked bizarre.  I kept it in a closet for a long time.  I was disgruntled.  (Visual Aid #2)

Things changed this summer.  Graham hasn’t been a blanket kind of kid, there’s nothing he carries around with him everywhere.   But he was fond of one particular blanket that I took with us when we’d travel.  It was starting to look shabby, particularly at the corners where he likes to suck on it.  So I thought about getting him a new one.  Until I figured I’d try the ugly one from the closet.

He loves it.  I picked a very soft, cuddly wool which is perfect, as Graham loves to snuggle with it.  I usually keep it in his crib and bedtimes have gone much more smoothly now that I can lay him in there and wrap him up in it.  It is one of his favorite things, and he rolls up in it contentedly until he sees me going to shut the door.  I made him something and he loves it.  I am happy.  (Visual Aid #3)

So is Graham.

For what it’s worth, I think the blanket is pretty happy, too.

That may be for the best.  My seriously high fatigue levels over the past few weeks mean I haven’t had the stamina to muster my anger and write my long-planned screed against Boston drivers.  Everywhere I’ve lived people have complained about the way people drive there.  Those Crazy Texas drivers, those Crazy Georgia drivers, etc.  I envy these people and their complaints.  Because the crazy level of a Boston driver is so high that I hadn’t even imagined it was possible from my previous experiences.

We live right on a rotary with 3 streets feeding into it.  One of them has been under construction for the last week or two so the honking outside has cut down to once every 5 minutes rather than once every 30 seconds.  I don’t quite understand how a place so jam-packed with rotaries (aka roundabouts) is also so jam-packed with people who seem to have no idea how to use them.  (Or maybe they think “Yield” means “Meh, Who Cares If Someone Else Is Coming, I’m Totally Sure You Have the Right Of Way.”)

I even had someone try to pick a fight with me on the Mass Pike last week completely through hand gestures.

But my anger is waning.  I am learning to not care when people get mad at me for refusing to tailgate excessively.  And I am learning to just GO GO GO if you have absolutely any doubt about whether you should go.

I am learning that I should be careful which stores I frequent and where I park.  Not just because of the exorbitant parking fees.  But you know all those commercials for car insurance where a grocery cart hits the car?  I always thought, “Man, that’s bad luck” when I saw them before.  Now I have seen big box store parking lots here and I get it.  Shopping carts roll through the lots like tumbleweeds through an old western.

I am learning my way around new stores.  And I got a very good laugh when I passed a brand-spanking-new Sonic Drive-In in Connecticut on my way to work.  I was comforted to see something so beloved and familiar and thought about stopping in for a snack… until I got closer.  There was an empty lot next to the Sonic.  It was completely full of cars.  They had employees in fluorescent vests directing traffic.  It looked like the lines at a taxi stand at the airport.  It was at least 40 cars.  Waiting.  And it was a rainy day.  Heaven forbid it be sunny.  I love Sonic too, but seriously.

I have a commute 4 days a week that’s quite lengthy and, sadly, quite boring.  It’s pretty and green and has lots of hills, but there’s not really anything to look at.  Just more road.  Getting through it requires lots of concentration and lots of snacks.  With everything going on I haven’t been super vigilant in picture-taking.  But don’t worry, the Bug is having a grand old time.  He loves his babysitters and is thrilled that people come to the house just to play with him for hours at a time.

He is walking like crazy.  I would post video… but the computer is having issues so I can’t actually watch any of the videos.  I’ll try and get something up this weekend.

What I can give you in the baby-picture department is as follows:

Several months ago I bought these adorable pajamas in the next size up for Graham.  The pants have always been too big but the other day I put them on him anyway.  Introducing: Dr. Tiny Bug.

Despite the fact that I was fully aware of these being dress-up pajamas and in no way indicating his status or career, I still kept finding myself having this little voice in my head saying, “That doesn’t make sense, babies can’t be doctors.”

This was on a morning last weekend, when Eric and I traded off until after the baby’s morning nap.  I had him first, and took several pictures.  Then I went back to sleep and Eric took a turn.  He also got a kick out of the outfit and took several more pictures.  I suppose we were making up for a couple weeks of camera neglect.

Eric likes to say, “Paging Dr. Tiny Bug, Stat!” And some other doctor-y stuff I can never remember.  I’m sure he’ll enlighten you with a comment once he reads this.

In addition, we have another chapter of We’re Not That Kind of Parents.  This is an ongoing saga in which we don’t bother to celebrate Graham’s milestones in a manner deemed socially appropriate.  I believe I should already have at least one full scrapbook for every month of Graham’s life when actually I’m not sure when he even took his first steps.  It was hard to pin it down to a particular time.  All I know is that these days he takes a whole lot of them.

Yesterday I took Grammer to get his first hair cut.  Please don’t be too horrified.  I know many babies don’t get their hair cut until they haven’t been babies for a really really long time.  But Graham’s hair never did that cute baby hair thing where it gets all long and ringlet-y.  Instead it just got long and mullet-y and stayed frustratingly straight.  I wouldn’t have bothered but with the heat lately I always feel bad for him with all that hair all sweaty and stuck to his neck.

While running errands we passed a kids-only hair salon.  (I didn’t know these things existed.)  I took the baby in for his first cut.  They seemed rather upset that I didn’t go for their First Haircut package which includes a photo, certificate, and a lock of hair for the scrapbook.  Even after I said No thanks, it’s fine, the lady cutting his hair still asked me several times if I wanted to keep a lock of hair.  I didn’t.  Like I said, We’re Not That Kind of Parents.  Eric wasn’t even mad he’d missed it or that I’d gone without telling him.  Good thing.

Still, I am not so coldhearted as to pass the milestone without recognizing the opportunities for a few cute pictures.

And I do have enough of That Kind of Parent in me that I can’t actually pick just one of the photos.  I’m going to post all 5.  He just looks so cute and dapper.  Then again, maybe I’m still Not That Kind of Parent but I just happen to have the cutest baby on earth.  I’m kind of leaning towards that option, honestly.

You also know I’m not That Kind because I am not going to take credit for the totes adorbs look on his face in those last couple pictures.  It wasn’t me.  It wasn’t the experience.  It wasn’t the wonder of childhood.  It was the face of a kid sucking on an animal cracker so he’d keep his head still.

Let loose alone, in the wilderness, they must hunt down a Wild Birthday Cake and slaughter it.

Grammer was triumphant.  Now he is a man.  Or a toddler.  Or something.

I wasn’t sure what kind of cake to get since Graham has never had cake before.  When I saw the bakery had a Boston Cream Pie Cake it seemed the most fitting.  As you can see, the Bug looks rather intimidated by all those layers.

What followed was a classic example of how to kill and dress a cake.  He surveyed his prey, then pounced.

I know I’ve recently compared him to a mad scientist (favorably, really!) but in this picture I feel like he’s a pianist pounding away at some Chopin.  He’s like a little Schroder.  So intent, our Bug.

If you look over his left eye, you can see his battle scar of the day.  (Actually, it wasn’t from the cake but a spill earlier in the day.  But you should see the other guy.  Or in this case, the big stone wall.)

Other festivities for the day included playing with his loot.  Both sets of grandparents scored big points this year with the dump trucks.  One set was featured in a previous post, here’s the new one.

He is indeed walking now.  In the past couple days he just decided that 5 steps was not enough.  Now he walks across the room, changes direction, squats down to pick up toys, and doesn’t lose a beat.  I wish I had better video of this to show you, but he really won’t perform on demand.  I have loads of videos of him just standing there, refusing to take any steps.  I’ll put one up as soon as I get it.

The spray pool was the place he got his little birthday shiner.  Fortunately he had a very good time anyway.  I love this picture because it looks like he’s doing a little boogie even though he doesn’t actually dance yet.

I apologize in advance that posts will probably be weekly at a maximum for a while.  I am back to work tomorrow, complete with a massive commute that will get me home past midnight and a baby who will get me up bright and early in the morning.  Eric and I figure we’ll see each other for about 20 minutes a day on those 4 days a week, and I figure he deserves more time than the blog does.  But I’ll do my best to pop in on the weekends or the occasional slow day.  (Ha!  Like there will actually be a slow day!)

Some of the words I use most often to describe our Grammer are deliberate and meticulous.  When he discovers something new he must analyze it.  Occasionally there may be a little giggling involved, but in general it is serious work.

For example, Graham discovered trucks while visiting his cousin Jamie.  He likes them.  He likes that they roll.  But he would sometimes turn them on their side to see if they roll that way, then turn them upside down, then to the other side.  After a few days he determined they only roll if the wheels are down.  And now that’s how he plays with trucks.  But for a while there it felt like watching Spock on an old episode of Star Trek.  “The new lifeform I’ve encountered on this strange planet appears to have mobility and yet it does not always move when urged.  More study is required to determine what circumstances are amenable to movement.”

Now that he’s got the trucks handled, he has shifted his attention.  Still, he’s ever the scientist.  See here how methodical he is.

He was at this for a while.  I love how he tries the different orientations and combinations so slowly and carefully.

Can there be any question who his father is?  If he just did all this at light speed, he’d be Eric’s clone.  I’m curious as to whether Eric used to be like this as a baby or if I can take the credit since I was a rather meticulous baby myself.  Especially because the one word I use around Eric the most often is “Careful!” complete with the exclamation point.  One speed demon is plenty, so I’m hoping Graham doesn’t grow out of it either way.

He’s certainly fearless, though.  Not much scares him.  Except another baby looking at him.  Or people talking.  Then his lower lip gets all quivery.  I think we need to socialize this kid or in about 20 years we may have a mad scientist who locks himself in his lair.

So you know how people from cold climates are always saying how tough they are in winter?  And people from warm climates are always saying how tough they are in summer?  I have learned something.  Many summers in Georgia and Texas did not prepare me for just one week of summer in Boston.  It’s not just that it’s been hotter here than it has been in either of those places.  It’s not just the freakish heat wave.  I have learned that people in the South and the West and everywhere else are just not as tough as they say.  You want to know why?  I have two words: air-conditioning.

Even when you go to the store or the movies or somewhere that has central air, they don’t realize here that you have to blast it at unreasonably cool temperatures.  I have walked by thermostats that are set to 80 inside public retail establishments.  80!!  Have they never heard of 68??

I know whenever I heard about the occasional Northeastern heat wave I just figured they were a bunch of wusses.  Now I know.  It’s in the bottom of the country where the wusses are.  Yes, I just called all of you with A/C “wusses.”  I would like you to come stay in my non-air-conditioned apartment on the 3rd floor for a few days and see how you feel.

The baby has not made this easy.  I can stand sitting here in the heat but he cannot.  At some point there is mutiny.  So we go on lots of outings.  Though I don’t know that going on a 3-mile walk with a few hills in triple-digit heat pushing a stroller was the best idea.  The Bug seemed to enjoy it, at least.  And don’t worry, we do have a couple window units in the bedrooms so we at least have a break at night and the baby stays cool while he naps.

To placate all of you until my upcoming post about all the weird things about Boston that I am still adjusting to, here are some adorable Bug pictures.  I have to admit, when he was around 6 months or so I thought he hit his cuteness peak but he is making a serious comeback.  I usually find that as babies become toddlers they lose some of that lovely chubbiness.  So far that has not been a problem for Grammer.  He is definitely becoming more than just another baby, though.  He looks more and more like a little boy to me.

Here he is at the Boston Children’s Museum:

(I know he looks tan.  I douse him with sunscreen but we’re out an awful lot.  He’s darker than I am, which is a little weird.  And, for the record, I’m more and more convinced his hair will be a reddish color.)

The Museum has an area just for crawlers that he enjoyed.  They blew bubbles and all the other babies were hysterically happy but Graham didn’t pay the bubble-blower much attention.  Instead he would carefully crawl over to the bubbles which had landed on the carpet and slowly touch each one to see what happened.  I think we have a little scientist in the making.

He’s also been obsessed with mirrors lately.  Which is weird, since I think he was supposed to go through that phase like 8 months ago.  He’s never cared for them much before.  I need to get some video to show you just how funny it is.  For me, though, this very large mirror at the Museum made it look briefly like I had Twin Bugs and I was very grateful I only have the one.

One place we’ve visited several times during the heat wave is one of our neighborhood parks.  (Seriously.  So many parks.  I cannot count them all.)  Many of the parks here have spray pools of some kind and Graham enjoys them a lot.  The first time we went someone had plugged up the bottom so it was an actual pool.  Not that we minded much.  But he did enjoy being able to crawl around once it drained again.

He is shockingly fearless in the spray pool.  He’ll be a little tentative for a while, then he’ll just crawl right into the thick of it and get himself drenched.  Once several of the kids poured water on him with cups.  Their mothers scolded them but I told them it was fine.  I’d given the kids permission.  Graham loves it.  Here is a picture from my phone of Graham getting nice and cool, it’s not quite as clear as usual but I still love it.

We’re back down to highs in the 80’s for now.  It’s not so bad, but it still requires that we get out for at least a little while.  Hopefully this weekend things will cool off a little bit and we can finally finish unpacking.

(No good video of Graham walking yet.  He still only takes around 4 steps except for the occasional jaunt from one table to another, but he’s very steady on his feet.  It probably doesn’t help that these days he spends most of his time in his stroller and his carseat.)

Instead, let’s be optimistic about our new digs.  For those of you who haven’t been privy to all the details, we got our apartment sight-unseen.  They literally make you sign forms confirming you’ve never seen the place and won’t back out of your lease if you don’t like it.  I’ve spent the last month or so figuring that if we hated it we could take the first year to seriously scout around for a new place so we get the perfect one.

I don’t need to.  Our place is amazing.  Obviously it’s due completely to me and my impressive real estate skills.

Having an apartment in an old city is a new experience.  We may not have new carpet and fixtures and central air, but observe:

Did you know the place comes complete with an adorable baby thrown in?  And some flip-flops, apparently.

I was a bit apprehensive about pink walls, but they’re lovely.  I’m also crazy about this run-down curio cabinet built into the wall:

Quaint and picturesque is to be expected with a very old place like ours, I know you’re thinking, but it must be teeny tiny.  Well, let me show you our kitchen.  It took 3 pictures to get all of it, and you can’t even see the cabinets or the pantry in this photo.

The bathroom is also unexpectedly spacious.  And did I mention the two decks?  We are currently sharing our place with another family who are also enjoying the digs:

You can see 2 out of the 3 baby birds in spite of the bad lighting.  We’re not sure if this is a Mama Bird or a Daddy Bird bringing them their lunch.  There appear to be several birds that regularly feed the little nest.  Perhaps they are of the It-Takes-a-Village mentality.

There’s more on the outside to brag on.  These were taken by Eric on a walk that was within a quarter-mile.

I know I’m laying it on thick with the pictures, but we’re still rather giddy over our luck.

The Bug is just happy that this whole moving thing is almost over.  Here he is while we were packing looking less than enthused about it all.  (Really he was just less than enthused about the piece of watermelon rind he just bit off.)

To help him fit in now that we’re here I got him a Red Sox onesie.  It seems to be doing the trick.

As for our unpacking, the movers have arrived and fortunately getting stuff out of boxes is a lot easier than getting it in.  I am braving the wilds as I drive the streets of Boston and occasionally getting a little wistful about Southern hospitality.  In Georgia, a honk of the horn is usually just a little beep to draw someone’s attention to the fact that they haven’t noticed the light turned green.  In Boston it seems to be a way of life, certainly for the town car driving behind me yesterday.

Tomorrow is Eric’s first day of residency and we’re very excited.  I start teaching again in a couple weeks so we’re doing our best to get settled.

Hopefully all these pictures are enough to entice you to come for a little visit.  The Bug is happy to bunk with you in the extra bed, and our air mattress is quite cozy.

But I did find out while here visiting my parents that Mom has NEVER copied any photos off her camera–which she bought last August–so I thought I’d do her a favor and simultaneously put up some never-before-seen pictures of a Bug through the months.  Fortunately there are date stamps because it turns out I’m terrible at judging the age of my own child.

The camera had 209 pictures on it, but never fear, I will not subject you to that many.  The vast majority were of my nephew Jamie in the pool.

Here is a not-even-one-month-old Grammer with me and his Grumpy.  Yes, I am actually in some of these pictures since I’m not the one taking them.  Shocking.

The cousins meet for the first time in November.  Graham doesn’t seem too enthused.  But he does have all that nice almost-4-months-old baby fat.

By Christmas he met all three of his living great-grandparents.  Here he is with my maternal grandmother.

In all of my pictures from Christmas break, 5-month-old Graham has teething face.  Fortunately Mom got some better ones.

The traditionally sullen coming-down-the-stairs Christmas morning picture complete with matching pajamas.  I am only smiling because I’m that much of a nonconformist.  No, not really.  Actually I’m trying to get the baby to smile.

Then we fast-forward to last week and suddenly Graham has spouted into a big bug.  (To give you an idea of what you’re missing in the early months of 2010, there are so many pictures of Jamie in the pool that I’m half-convinced he’s amphibious.)

He is terribly nonchalant during his first swimming lesson with Auntie Sarah.  If I made little thought bubbles this one would say, “Yeah, you know, whatever, I’m just hanging out in the pool.  Nothing to see.”

Continuing with the water theme, here are two babies sharing a bath.

With one baby walking and another just learning to walk, crawling races are the most effective way of getting everyone to play happily together.

Today we are all munching on Argentine cookies.  Graham helped make them.  Or at least he watched.

On Saturday we head up to Boston to meet Eric and move in to our new apartment.  So it may be a while until you hear from us again, but there will surely be loads of pictures once we resurface.  And now I have a baby to get back to.

It’s not at all the Graham is camera shy.  The problem is that whenever we pull out the camera he goes straight for it or gets distracted by it.  That is why I have absolutely no video of Graham standing on his own.  He will occasionally take a couple of steps, too.  But not if the camera is out.

Solution: Make do.  It’s kind of like being the paparazzi.  Maybe you can’t see every second but you can get a few shots when someone famous steps out for a quick lunch.

I spent about a week trying to get a good video of the Bug playing with this little light-up ball.  He’s actually very good at it and catches it whenever you roll it to him.  This video ended up being the best of the bunch and it showcases our dilemma.  He misses the ball every time because he keeps looking at the camera instead of me and the ball.  Still, it’s very cute when he ducks down to pick up the ball and then pops back up.

Problem #2: The changing table.

Graham has never been a big fan of getting dressed or undressed or diaper changes or what have you.  After he got used to it he tolerated it.  But in recent weeks his distress upon getting set down on the changing table has reached new heights.

Solution: There are two, actually.  The first is to sing him Lady Gaga songs.  I am completely serious.  They are the only ones that work.  Maybe next we should try Ke$ha?

The second is to scrunch your nose at him.  This is his favorite new game and it almost always puts him in a good mood when he’s mad.  The rules are very simple.  One party scrunches their nose and breathes in and out very quickly.  Then the second party repeats the same thing back.  Repeat ad nauseum.  If you still aren’t quite able to form a picture, here’s a Bug playing the game while I smartly stay behind the camera.

If you find the title of the video unfamiliar, you obviously need to get better acquainted with this movie:

(I suppose in the age of the internet it shouldn’t be surprising that I am not even close to the first parent who has called a video this.  It took me ages to find the real one on youtube since my searches only turned up videos people had taken of their own kids.)

Problem #3: The baby is obsessed with computers.

Initially we would pull up a baby game from the internet, which responds to pressing any key by making little sounds and showing little animals saying “peek-a-boo!”  But this never went well because he always managed to close the window and thus the game.

Solution: Just let the baby play with the computer.  He is impressive.  Start with windows up, he’ll find a way to close them.  Start with an empty desktop and it’ll be packed with open programs in seconds.  The kid has a gift.

Still needs some work on his google searching, though.  Never gets any results.  As yet, he has not crashed our very complicated system.  Give him a couple months.

Problem #4: We have taken a shamefully small number of pictures of the baby recently.

Solution: Use leftover pictures from May for the blog!  I can tell they are outdated because his face is already looking longer and thinner.  When we get ourselves moved, I will try and go back to regular camera routines.  We haven’t yet stooped to blatantly posed shots.  This look, from May, is solely the result of his own personal styling.

Problem #5: Speaking of styling.  In January I dyed my hair red.  I haven’t dyed my hair since my 3rd year of law school, when I spent a few months trying to revive my fading blonde color with highlights.  (As with any loss, the first stage is denial.)

I am not terribly ambitious when it comes to my hair.  In fact, I have spent years with it very long, pulled back while it was still wet, and left in a big pile on the back of my head, which JoLee and I lovingly called “all jungled up.” If you have seen me in the last 10 years, odds are quite good that’s what I did with my hair when you saw me.

When I got it colored I also got it cut.  The big thing on the back of my head gives me headaches.  Plus it kind of defeated the purpose of coloring it if no one could see it.  So I went red.  And it was awesome.

Unfortunately I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with red hair, which is the most difficult color to obtain and maintain.  The second time I got it, the color was off and it was not as warm and bronze-y as I like.  You can tell in this picture, despite the bad lighting, that we’re moving into orange territory.

So in May I decided to quit with all the time and money and just go back.  The tough thing is that my red was a far cry from the color of my roots.  The red was not going to go gently into that good night, the red was going to stick around and give me a crazy two-toned look.  So I had to dye it again, the color of my roots.  My hair gets darker every year, but it also gets redder (not sure where that comes from), so the color of my roots probably isn’t the one you’d think.

Still looking pretty blonde in 2007.  And pretty cozy, no?  (Forgive the proof.  It’s one of the engagement photos we didn’t order.)

But oh how quickly things change.  Here I am, pregnant and pretty brownish-reddish in 2009.

The journey back to brown is fun, in a way, because my roots are darker than the rest of my hair, which tends to lighten.  I probably look pretty plain to anyone walking down the street but to me it’s a significant contrast from usual.  It will fade eventually, and hopefully my little blonde streaks will come back.  If not, I will just stare longingly at my wedding pictures, where my stylist used those little streaks perfectly.

Anyway.  I was supposed to be writing about a problem.  The color is not the problem.  It’s the cut.

I figured since I was going to the same stylist who’d cut my hair in January (not the one of the awesome wedding hairdo) that it would all turn out okay.  But it didn’t.  I gave it a few weeks.  I tried to get used to it.  But I couldn’t.  And it does not photograph well, y’all.

This is the look I should’ve given the stylist when she showed me the final product.  (This is also a photo whose only redeeming feature is that you can just barely barely see the purple nail polish on my toes.  Purple toenails are the way to go.)

My hair needed to be fixed, and once my class ended last week I had enough time to get away and fix it.

Solution: Supercuts.  Makes me wonder why I bother with salons sometimes.  (I rarely bother, but still.)

The major reason my hair had to be fixed was that she cut the top too short to pull back comfortably (which I’d specifically said not to do) and she left the bottom all weird.  This wasn’t so bad when I would blow it out, but if you know me you know I hate blow dryers.  Hate them.  The way I survived before the bad cut with my short hair was to do it curly.

Oh, I’m sorry, you didn’t know I have curly hair?  It’s okay, no one does.  I’d also instructed my stylist to give me a cut that would work with curly hair.  You must avoid the Christmas Tree look:

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In that situation your hair gets all poofed out at the bottom.  But what I had was even worse.  When straight, it was a weird shape.

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When curly, it resembled a wet dog:

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The sad bits at the bottom were all straggly and not curly and the whole thing was a scary mess.  Supercuts Lady, though, immediately saw the problem and fixed as much as could be fixed.  And today I am wearing my hair curly again.  It takes even less effort than doing my hair all jungled up.  It keeps my hair from being too hot and heavy on my neck in the summer.  It is awesome.

And this is my hair after we went to the pool in the afternoon.  It isn’t even paid-attention-to hair, this is just blech after-the-pool hair!  My curls surprise even myself.

So ends what may well be the only blog post for the foreseeable future where there are more pictures of me than there are of the baby.

The big weekend featured two sets of relatives coming into town.  My parents, Eric’s parents, and Eric’s grandfather.  We got to spend some time together.  Who am I kidding: they got to spend time with the baby.

The big day had two ceremonies.  The first for the entire university.  It was quite large.  And crowded.  But we all finally made it.  Even Graham.

Amusing a baby during a large public event requires teamwork.  And stuffed animals.

You may be wondering why at such a lovely morning outdoor ceremony there aren’t pictures of Eric and the other graduates.  Like I said, it was big.  And crowded.  This is about as well as we did.

See those little black caps in the middle-right?  And somewhere under that blue thingy people are giving speeches.  (These were actually pretty good seats, too.)

After the ceremony, we all agreed that Arnold Schwarzenegger was perhaps the best graduation speaker we’ve ever heard.  For reals.  Inspiring, funny, and partly in German.  What more could you ask for?

All the colleges broke off for their individual ceremonies and we had to wait a while for ours.  We hung out by the Medical School, ate food, and took pictures.  Despite all our efforts though, by far the best pictures of this were taken by the School’s official Photographer.  (And thanks to Emory for letting us download them for free instead of having to pay.  And the food was good, too.)

The Medical School finally got its own ceremony.  This one was Bug-free, which was probably for the best since it was a small space and a surprisingly large number of people felt the need to yell when their loved one’s name was called.  It was also a difficult space for pictures, so you’ll have to make do with this one of the graduates filing in.  Just imagine Eric somewhere in the crowd.

The best part of the ceremony was that the MD/PhD’s had their own PhD hooding ceremony before they hooded anyone else.  They also had their own special mention in the program.  There were only 10 of them.  We were bursting with pride.  And then they all got hooded again.  Too bad they don’t get to wear both hoods at the same time.  (Why not??  Why can’t they make hoods so you can get double ones?  That alone might be the motivation I need to get a PhD of my own.)

And here’s 90% of the MD/PhD class:

And then we all went home and took a nap.