the husband

Daddy blogs can be just as good as mommy blogs. Haven’t you heard? I really like this guy, especially the way he’s always trying to give his baby a mustache.

My husband slept in Monday, which means he was still snoozing when the Little Rock School District automated phone alert thing called us at 6 a.m. (He is strange and loves to get up at 5 usually. I wish I were that industrious, but it never happens.) “It’s saying school is out. Must be a mistake,” he said, but he got up to check the news just in case. I opened the blinds and was floored. It’s three days later and I’m still confused about how no one noticed Little Rock was about to get it’s first real snowfall in years.

Monday was okay, we did lots of coloring and playing follow the leader. Tuesday got a little hairy with some cabin fever setting in, and I had to load Amos into the backpack carrier and head up the hill to Walgreens for supplies. Really we didn’t need anything except fresh air. We counted six snowmen along the way, and saw one snowplow in action, plus three of those little bobcat snow movers. Richard Scarry come to life! Amos is terrible at sitting still in his stroller, but he’s a great sport about being toted papoose-style on my back in the snow and ice. Snow=magic?

Wednesday was great, the best kind of snow day because the roads were clear. We headed to the Jump Zone in NLR to get out some energy. Amos loves it there. I love it more. I like that Amos is small enough that he needs a hand and therefore I have an excuse to climb in and go for it. Rodney gives it his best too, although the ladder up to the boat slide was a bit tight and he had to retreat.

So we’re coming off our 3-day snow break on a high and waiting to see what tonight brings. If anybody has any fabulous ideas for ways to pass the time should snowpocalypse return, please send them along.

It’s incredibly rare that my husband and I have a day without the baby, but when we do we’re never romantic or adventurous about it. When Amos goes to his grandparents’ house, the paint brushes and power tools come out. Rodney took Amos to Conway Sunday morning, and by the time Rodney got back I had the edging painted in Amos’ bedroom. When we first moved in a little over a year ago we went with a pale blue, which I thought would be calming. But instead it felt arctic and gloomy, certainly not fitting for so zesty a character as my Amos. So I spent Sunday giving it a fresh coating of granny smith apple green. Just thinking of the color makes my mouth water, it’s that tangy. But it looks fab. I’ll post photos soon, just not now because I’ve temporarily misplaced the camera.

Rodney had loftier goals for Sunday. He had to finish gutting the closet and half-bath in preparation for combining those two rooms into one fantastic, luxurious second full bath for our house. I know most people around here have at least two bathrooms already and may not appreciate them, but I’ve never had more than one in my adult life and can hardly fathom such an indulgence.

There were some touch-and-go moments. The first was when I put the first slash of green on the wall and panicked, thinking it was too Grinch-like and Amos would never be able to sleep again because of his walls’ florescent qualities. The other came halfway through when I started cussing and begging Rodney to let me hire painters to finish because even though I was doing my best there were drips everywhere and smears on the floor and my back hurt and the apocalypse was surely here.  I am such a baby about these things. Rodney was calm and reassuring, then he put on those silencing earmuffs and got out a big, loud power saw and went to work in the other room. I don’t blame him.

We did have an actual catastrophe when Rodney nicked a pipe and water started spewing everywhere, just like it does on sitcoms. I simply cannot understand why Rodney never freaks out. Surely that would be the appropriate time, right? But he didn’t. He just turned the water off to the house (who even knows how to do that?), then went off to Kraftco in search of silicone tape. He had to crawl under the house to get everything back in order, but he didn’t seem upset about it at all. It amazes me.

Anyway, Amos came home Monday to a brand new room, which he completely didn’t notice. But it looks a zillion times better, so it was worth the trouble. Our bathroom to be is an empty, non-leaking shell, all ready for the plumbers to come do their magic. Not sure when that will happen, but surely within the next year there will be some action. It’s all very exciting. The toilet is still sitting in the middle of our bedroom, but we’re all still fine with that. I may start using it as a planter soon.

As soon as the camera is located I’ll post photos of the new green room. Compliments welcome, no complaints please. I’m not painting it again.

Rodney and Amos are both asleep right now, which is highly unusual seeing how it’s the middle of the day. Amos didn’t seem to be feeling bad, but when he asked to go night-night an hour before naptime and without any lunch, I started to worry. Rodney claims to feel fine, but he hasn’t really been alert at any point today. It’s almost noon, and Rodney is normally up at 5:30.

So it looks like the Christmas plague of 2009 continues to ravish. Good thing we didn’t take our snotty germs across state lines.

One year ago today my little boy was 10 months old and my family was moving to a new house. The movers were to arrive at 8 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving. The night before, Amos came down with a blazing fever, and he and I spent the morning of black Friday at the pediatrician’s office, where an x-ray revealed that he had pneumonia. While this was going on, my valiant husband was directing the movers alone, trying to handle all the last-minute packing and freaking out over his sick little boy.

The doctor told me to take Amos home and keep him quiet. This, of course, was impossible. We were between houses, which meant we were momentarily homeless. It’s difficult to think clearly when you baby boy is burning with fever and has just been diagnosed with an illness that routinely kills people. My friend Cindy was a week out from having a baby, and therefore had a nursery set up and ready to go. She graciously offered it to us, which was beyond generous. Certainly it was unsettling for her to think of us polluting her fresh, pristine nursery with sinister pneumonia germs. I remember lying on the floor of her nursery for hours with Amos’ hot little arms clamped around my neck. It was terrifying.

Amos is almost two now, and he endured another bout of pneumonia this summer but is much more robust these days. We’ve spent today playing outside, doing a little shopping and napping in our own house that’s not even so new anymore. I can’t get over how much better it is than last year.

One pretty great thing about kids that I didn’t expect was how willing and eager they are to help out. Amos is always knocking himself out these days wiping off his higchair tray or holding the dustpan or pushing the vacuum. He’s not quite 2, so his efforts are a bit clumsy and not really all that helpful yet. I’m just hoping he continues to be so agreeable about chores once he’s big enough to reach the handle on the lawnmower.

I really, really will be needing Amos’ help this time of year. My husband ingeniously thought to claim years ago that he’s allergic to leaf mold, which means the raking is up to me. And it’s an enormous job at our house, which is tiny but shaded by 11 mammoth oak trees. They’re pretty great in the summer because they keep our house shady and cool, but lately I’ve been plotting some selective reduction or all-out clear cutting. These plans will surely be forgotten when the raking’s done, but when will that be? I raked 35 bags the weekend before last, but lost my gusto after only two dozen bags on Sunday. So 59 bags in and I’m only a little more than halfway through! Suck. This weekend was a bit easier because Rodney blew the leaves into one general vicinity so I could rake and bag without clomping angrily around the entire yard. The good news is that Amos was really excited about the process. He dove right in to help rake and stuff leaves into bags, but he was most mesmerized by the leaf blower, of course. Here are my two helpers in action:

Don’t look at these photos too closely or you’ll notice that underneath all those leaves there is…nothing. Dirt, that’s it. So maybe I should have just left the leaves there to cover up the naked ground? Wait, I feel so stupid.

My husband’s birthday is today and I’m still empty-handed. So far, the two front-runners for gifts are hiring a sexy nurse to deliver a platter of hot wings to our house or buying him a gift certificate for a new tattoo. It is official. After nine years of living in the Natural State, I am a true Arkansan.

Time for another installment of “My husband is cooler than I am.” This morning he woke up super early, must have been around 5-ish, to make a quiche. Yes, that’s awesome and completely qualifies him for all kinds of accolades, but there’s more.

Apparently he’d spent those wee morning hours trolling the internet for recordings of Hall and Oates (why? not sure) when he came across this little gem.

UKELELE MADNESS

He was immediately smitten by the dorky ukelele-playing crooner. This became obvious when he seemed really excited to show me the youtube video as soon as I got up. It seems he’s developed a serious crush, and I’m okay with that. This girl is indeed very cool and talented. And I like that Rodney is original enough not to pine over Angelina Jolie or Heidi Klum or any of the other usual suspects.

We were headed to see David Sedaris Sunday night, and my husband said the most on-the-money thing I’ve heard in a long time. We were pulling into the crowded parking lot, trying to scope out a spot among the swarming crowds, and Rodney said, “We could just go to a hotel for a couple hours and take a nap instead.” That is totally the father of an almost-2-year-old talking. But we’d paid $100 bucks for the tickets, so we stuck it out. Totally worth it. I’d gotten the impression from some interviews on the radio recently that David Sedaris might be something of a snobby ass hat, but it turns out he’s not at all. In fact, I love him all the more now.

And while we’re on the subject, here’s another goofy thing my husband said. We were talking about Halloween and he was urging me to go as Gallagher.

gallagher!

Remember that skinny comedian with super frizzy long hair who always wore striped shirts and suspenders and smashed watermelons with mallets? Sadly, I look just like him from the waist up, minus the mustache (on most days). But I told rodney I wasn’t dressing up, sorry, I just wasn’t into it. He tried again, suggesting I could go as a sexy nurse. “I hate it when girls get all tramped out for Halloween. It’s desperate and slutty,” I said. He was all, “We don’t have to leave the house.” Ha! I liked the hotel nap idea better.

My husband peeled himself out of the bed yesterday after battling strep for a few days, and he sneaked out to run some errands. When Amos and i got up from a nap (a nap! yes!!!), we found this:

That new book I wanted!!!! It was a treat for me for holding down the fort while Rodney convalesced. Hurray! I’ll take a book over flowers any day.

Rodney admitted he called Wordsworth looking for a book called “This One” by Amy Sohn because that’s how I referred to the book in my previous post, and Rodney didn’t notice that the words “this one” were actually a hyperlink to a review of “Park Slope West.” The bookstore people were like, “Nope, she doesn’t have anything out by that title.” He finally figured it out and now I have a fantastic book to read. I will dive in as soon as I finish the two I’m reading now, “Mountains Beyond Mountains” by Tracy Kidder and “The New Kings of Nonfiction” edited by dork/hipster/heartthrob Ira Glass.

I love you, Ira!