Abraham, Rachel, Soren and Liam. Our life together in Smalltown, Idaho.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

And They Called it Puppy Love

The above picture was taken on Aubrey and Soren's first official date. They went to Pillsbury park and were chaperoned by their mothers and their Auntie Loriann. They enjoyed time crawling in the grass, eating the grass, and swinging on the swingset. Aubrey even got a little fresh and felt up Soren's bum. The date was cut short when they both got a little fussy and needed some snacks and a nap. Dating is rough when you are only nine months old.
- Loriann

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Fun, Fun, Fun

Believe it or not, we have been engaged in fun activities in addition to our usual baby watching/working grind.

These Fun Activities include:

Camping (with my folks and the Smith family at beautiful Meadow Lake).

Driving to Brigham City (to dine with Abe's buddy Daniel).

Hosting houseguests (Holly and Aubrey! -- Pictures pending).

All of these experiences were highly delightful, but beyond posting pictures, I am not going to elaborate, as doing so would eat even more into my precious Soren-is-asleep time.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

The fisherman.

I really like this picture of my daddy.

A little Soren update:

Things my baby likes:

1. Sweet Potato Puffs.
2. Pulling hair.
3. Electronics: remote controls, telephones, stereos, baby monitors, alarm clocks, power cords, electrical outlets, et al. If it has something to do with electricity, he will spend lengthy periods of time examining and chewing on it.
4. Vegetables
5. Bathing. (This is how bathing goes with Soren: first he plays with the waterfall coming from the spigot. He'll poke it, run his hand through it, try to drink it. Then I'll lie him on his back and he'll flail his little limbs like a frog. Next he rolls over onto his belly and plays the "crawl forward/slide back" bathtub game until I get bored and take him out. Some soaping is involved.)
6. Being hung upside down by his legs.
7. Peter, Paul, and Mary
9. "The Grumpy Lady Bug" by Eric Carle
10. Kissing
11. Music -- especially piano music.

Things he doesn't like:

1. Loud voices, sneezing, coughing, and crying.
2. Being put in bed when he's not sleepy.
3. Having toys taken away.

Miscellaneous items of interest:

1. One night before bed I expressed some breastmilk and, feeling lazy, left it in its little pumping containers until the next night, when I expressed some more into the same container. I did this so I wouldn't explode in the night, not so that Soren wouldn't have to drive formula, which I don't mind him doing at all. So, since I wasn't worried about keeping the milk fresh or anything, I set the pumping containers next to the sink to be washed. Three days later, I went to work, leaving my son at home with his daddy, who discovered the containers still sitting next to the sink. "Hm," he thought. "She must have expressed this right before she left. I will feed it to my son." So he did. And Soren took it without complaint. He drank 8 ounces of very very sour breastmilk. We watched him carefully for the next twenty-four hours, but he didn't seem to have suffered any adverse affects. This child is not a picky eater.

2. Speaking of which, I recently fed Soren some ground-up Jambalaya, which he enjoyed more than a seven-month-old should.

2. Soren had his first real swing experience today at Pillsbury park. He seemed to enjoy it. His Auntie Loriann took pictures. Swinging alongside him was his betrothed darling, little Aubrey Kathleen Keddington, aged eight months. Pictures will soon be posted documenting this event.

3. Soren always sleeps on his left side. I put him in his crib, cover him with the blanket his Auntie Pam crocheted for him, and he immediately turns onto his left side and embraces the blankie like a friend.

Teddy Bear

I recently crocheted this handsome little devil. Next on the agenda are a hippopotamus and a lion.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Doing the Inchworm

Soren's developed his own style of crawling for the time being.

It's for the dogs.

I'm not a big dog person. I don't dislike dogs, necessarily, but I don't really seek them out either. This does not, however, prevent my entire neighborhood's crew of canis familiaris from seeking me out.

For example, there is a strange little mutt living across the street who bears a striking resemblance to a warthog. I do not know this dog's name, but I refer to him as "Nasty Warthog Dog (NWD)." NWD apparently keeps a vigilant watch on my front door, as he always seems to know when I'm heading out for a stroll. He'll race out into the street when he sees me emerge from my driveway pushing a stroller, then follow along behind me for a while, bumping the back of my legs with his wet snout. He then proceeds to spend the rest of our miles spent together wandering irresponsibly in front of oncoming traffic and nipping irritably at the heels of passing bicyclists. Nasty Dog instills in me a strong desire to acquire one of those three-sided triangular signs they post on the top of driver's ed vehicles, paint on it the words, "THIS RUDE LITTLE WARTHOG DOES NOT BELONG TO ME," and attach it to my head. I recently tried to photograph NWD for the purposes of this blog post, but every single time I pulled out my camera, he would turn tail and run.

Perhaps I should introduce to you to our neighbor's crazy dog, Dakota, an 8-year-old Noundland-Collie mix with the all the neediness and hyperactivity of an 8-month-old Dalmation. I've been babysitting Dakota this week while her owners attend a family reunion. And to be honest, I usually quite like her--when she stays at home. Unfortunately, she's realized that I'm her caretaker for the week and so has followed me to my house and parked herself outside my bedroom window. She curls up in the grass and pretends to sleep, but every time I so much as turn over in bed, she perks up, shoves her big soggy nose against the screen, and whimpers. Leaving the house means that I risk incurring multiple lickings to both myself and my child. A deflated lime-green volleyball has been relocated to front yard. Our visitors (and my dad) are now greeted by vigorous barking. Again, I would really like to acquire a sign absolving myself of responsibility for this uninvited visitor's bad behavior. It could say something like, "THIS DOG DOES NOT BELONG HERE. WE DID NOT ASK HER HERE. PLEASE DO NOT HOLD US RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY BARKING, JUMPING, OR OTHER MISCELLANEOUS ACTS OF WOLFISH ANTAGONISM DIRECTED TOWARD YOU."

And this is not to mention all of my friendly neighborhood dog acquaintances, like Duke and Daisy, the golden lab couple who lives on the corner and are currently "trying" to get pregnant; Shaggy White Dog, who will walk for miles without question; Retired Police Dog, who has a limp that will break your heart; and NWD's little friend, Dumb Dog, who always barks, no matter how often he has accompanied you on a pleasant morning stroll.


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