Tonight Gramp would have been 101. We celebrated and toasted his memory at dinner tonight, although that was not the original purpose of the meal. However, it made for the perfect opportunity to tell our favorite Gramp stories, some of which I hadn’t thought of in years.

Gramp was my “adopted” grandfather who lived next door to us growing up. Hilary, Hunter, and I may have spent more time there than at our own house. Hours were spent lying on our backs on the floor with our feet in Gramp’s lap. He donned a paint brush dipped in water and tickled our feet while we watched cartoons. I can remember beging him to please paint my feet. We played the drums on his belly while he sat in his red leather recliner.

There were always cookies in the cookie jar – Oreos and Chips Ahoy – and ginger ale in the basement. Gramp put salt on his watermelon and never spilled a drop of juice from his grapefruit. I can remember watching him, fascinated, as he got the last bits of juice into his spoon. And, as I was reminded tonight, knew exactly how long it took to grill a hamburger – two whiskey sours.

Gramp “taught” me how to play the piano, which I thought I knew well enough to accompany myself as I sang “I Believe” in the school talent show when I was in the 4th grade. And he let me give pretend concerts on his old violin, even though I had no idea what a violin was.

Gramp was there for every birthday and holiday. Gramp was the grandfather I never had and the best example of one I can think of. I wish Robbie had been able to know him, to climb up on his lap and play the drums. Perhaps we’ll just have to settle for me painting Robbie’s feet while he watches cartoons. It’s the best tradition I can think of to pass on.

Before Robbie was born, I went home maybe twice a year. My family came up to visit once or twice a year. And I was fine with that. I pitied people who felt the need to move back to Kentucky. I would never leave Boston to come back. And then I had a baby. And all I want is to move back home.

It has been so nice to have family around for the past two days. There are people to run errands with. There is someone to take Robbie when I need to spend an hour at Verizon and don’t want to entertain him. There are dinners to linger over, telling stories from when we were little.

I know the grass is always greener, but… It drives me bonkers to listen to moms complain about how smothering their families can be. I’m sure that can be frustrating, but imagine all of the things you take for granted with your family close by. I bet your kids sometimes spend the night over there, and you can relish the quiet in your house. I bet your parents or siblings or in-laws babysit occassionally, saving you hundreds of dollars a year and allowing you to run errands or have dinner or go to that one really important social event.

Now, I can’t imagine how frustrating it is if relatives dropped by unannounced. Or if they want your kids every weekend (be honest, do you really mind?). But imagine a life with your child every day. Particularly if your husband travels. And you have summers off. For me, I think it just might be worth the trade-off of unannounced visits. At least I would have incentive to keep my house clean!

Robbie and I left for Lexington this morning. The four hours it took to get to Lexington from Boston were among the longest of my life. And I’ve had some pretty long four-hour stretches.

Our flight to Detroit was packed. And it started off so nicely, with a man saying, “You sure are cute, but I hope you aren’t sitting anywhere near me on the plane.” Thanks, buddy. Really. Can you not see that I am embarking on this adventure by myself with a child who does not want to be held? I’m bagged down with a stroller that I’m trying to fold with one hand while carrying a Toy Story 3 backpack, my purse, and said child. And now you want me to worry that you actually are going to be near us as I follow you down the aisle and you keep getting closer and closer to the back — where we’re sitting?

Luckily, the family in front of us was wonderful. The lady, Debra, turned around to see who was kicking her seat, and I promised I would try to keep it to a minimum. She told me not to worry about it; she’d been kicked hard by her own children when they were little and knew what I was going through. That same woman kept me company back in the flight attendants’ galley, where I escaped to during a particularly emphatic power struggle.

It was when I was standing in the aisle, waiting to deplane, that a man behind me brought the whole idea of flying to a new level. “Soldiers and babies: that’s who needs to be in first class.” I’m not sure if he meant babies should be in first class to give the mothers a little more room and understood what I was going through or to give the rest of the plane a break. Either way, I second the motion.

Let’s talk about the stroller code of conduct. It’s generally unspoken, but we all know what it is. There are rules of politeness that one expects when walking with a stroller. Unfortunately, the rest of the world is not privy to them. Perhaps we should stand on street corners, strollers blocking the way, passing out pamphlets with the stroller code of conduct printed on them. Until we have time in our busy schedules to do this, though, I suppose the following list will just have to be passed electronically.

1. When you see me walking down the street with a stroller, please move to the right. I will also move to the right. This way we can pass each other without the stroller, the child, and myself wrecking some elderly lady’s hostas or, worse, taking to the street to convenience the pedestrian without someone in tow. This rule has a subsection, applying to people walking down the street in general. Let me just say that I am easy to hear: I have a loud child who shouts, “Hi!” at any person (or dog or shrub or utility pole) he sees; I am talking to Robbie; there is music playing from my stroller to keep me entertained on these “adventures.” So, move to one side. Today I spent a block behind a woman who kept weaving from one side to the other. Every time I said, “Excuse me”, and tried to pass her, she went right back to the middle. When I blew past her as the sidewalk widened, she got all huffy. People, please. This is an elementary school rule: walk to the right!

2. If you see a person with a stroller trying to get into a building, please help him or her with the door. Granted, I have a system down for getting into buildings, as I live in Massachusetts and people are rarely interested in helping anyone they don’t know (and sometimes not even those they know!). I face the stroller away from the door, pull open the door, back in with the stroller, and try to make it before the door shuts on me. Don’t even get me started on those buildings with the two sets of doors to keep the heat or cold or rain or whatever out of the main building. My favorite experience with this happened at Bank of America. A lady came out of the building, thought about holding the door for me, and then dropped it. Today at CVS, the cashier, who had been on a break, took an extra loop around the front to avoid helping me get in the door.

3. If someone with a stroller is trying to cross a street (particularly at a crosswalk), stop and let them cross. It does no one any good for me to start part way into the road with the stroller and have cars continue to whiz by. I don’t know about the rest of the country, but in Massachusetts it is the law to stop for a pedestrian in a crosswalk. I find they used to stop more often when I was just by myself, a little less often when I was ginormously pregnant, and hardly at all now that I have a baby. Could someone please explain this phenomenon to me? So, let’s all take a vow right now to stop for those pedestrians (yes, even the ones without strollers). It will take a lot less time than getting pulled over by the cops for not doing it, and it’s just polite.

4. This last item on the Stroller Code of Conduct deals with people stupid enough to try to walk a dog and push a baby in a stroller (me). Please give these people extra wide berth. They are trying to make everyone in the house happy and not go crazy themselves. Furthermore, it is fairly obvious when someone has a dog with them. Don’t make the situation worse by suddenly acting surprised that there is a dog and try to find a way to escape the dog but have no where to go. The dog is on a leash. You probably had a good 25 yards to prepare for the encounter. If you really don’t want to deal with the dog, the stroller, or the crazed looking mother, just cross the street. At a crosswalk. Surely someone will stop for a sourpuss like you.

I’m sure I am missing many elements of the code of conduct. If there’s one you would like to see included, please add it in the comments. Just start with number five and continue on. Unfortunately, I only have time for four tonight… Robbie and I are flying to Lexington tomorrow. I have to pack for the two of us and prepare a to do list for Justin. And leave it in three different places. Curious about what a to do list looks like for an intelligent man who used to exist independently?

Wednesday Night
Trash and recycling out front
Recycling is in the pantry – both bins go out
Trash is by the back porch – both cans go out
Yard waste bag is just outside the gate – please put out
Pack for your trip
Your shoes are in one of two places: previously missing leather shoes are in the entry on the shoe rack, other leather shoes
and running shoes are in your closet on top of the pile of clothes on the floor.
If you can’t find it, it’s probably in the laundry basket in the guest room
The only tie I know of is on my dresser
If you still can’t find it, check the basement
If you still can’t find it, buy a new one
Park one of the cars in the back yard
I realize this sounds strange — we only have one parking spot in front of the fence and usually park at the grocery store
across the street. However, we cannot do this for five days straight.
Feed Barkley
Let Barkley out

Thursday Morning
Let Barkley out
Feed Barkley
Take Barkley to PetSmart
Take his bed and several toys. You wouldn’t want to sleep on a concrete slab with nothing to entertain you. Neither does
Barkley!!
Check catties food and water – FILL BOTH!
Leave a/c in Robbie’s room on and open gate
Catties have a place where it is cool if major heat wave
Turn off all lights
Take your phone charger!!
Lock the front door

Amazing, isn’t it? And to think, at one point they were able to exist entirely without us. Frightening.

This afternoon Robbie and I took a walk to the reservoir, where he spent a great deal of time shoveling sand. And, for the first time, I am proud to announce that he did not shovel sand into his mouth! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Robbie has figured out how to use a shovel! I wish I’d had a camera with me. Watching Robbie figure out how to dig the sand and put it in his bucket was priceless. He sat there, putting small bits of sand into his bucket, for at least twenty minutes. This lasted so long because he cued me to clap every time he put something in the bucket. I could have watched him do this for hours. To think he used to just lie there and do nothing. And now he can use a shovel? Are you kidding me?

Robbie has started to realize when he learns new things, which is almost as fun to watch as the new things he’s doing. When he takes a few steps to me in the water, he screams with glee. Like he’s done something no other kid has ever done. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know his buddy Pete is running laps around his house. That might do something to deflate him. He’s also started to realize items that are off-limits for him, particularly coins and rocks. I rarely have to grab these from his mouth anymore; instead, he brings them to me like they are treasures. Any man who wants to bring me money, even pennies, ranks high on my list!

I think I’ve found the key to surviving summer days with Robbie: walking. We’ve started walking everywhere. It started ten days ago with a 3.5 mile walk to and from a yard sale (remember that incredible pleather recliner purchase?). I’ve found that I like this better than going to the gym where I can’t really interact with him, even though we’re in the same room. On walks, I get to tell Robbie the name of everything that he points to, and he gets to see trucks, buses, and emergency vehicles with sirens and lights. I do not, however, really enjoy walking for the sake of walking. That’s why we went to the yard sale; I needed a destination.

Today, Roberto and I logged 6.2 miles on the stroller – my first 10k! We first walked 1.8 miles to the reservoir, where we “swam” for an hour and a half. After Robbie tired of shoveling sand and stirring the water, it was time to move on. We walked 1.3 miles to Wilson Farm to pick up our favorite summer dinner, chicken salad and Caesar salad, and then headed the 3.1 miles home. My entire body is killing me. I had no idea the amount of abdominal strength it took to push a stroller with a 22.5 pound child in it. Incidentally, Robbie slept for 2 of the miles and arrived home raring to go…

For those who have known me a while, you understand that walking 6.2 miles is a feat for me. For those of you who don’t, let me explain. Since Robbie was born, I have lost 65 pounds (or, for those of us who need more concrete examples, nearly three Robbies). Only 35 of that was baby weight! Sadly, my pregnancy weight was only five pounds more than my all-time high. So, these 65 pounds are very significant for me. It’s amazing what they’ve done for my self-esteem. I don’t cringe when I walk past those huge store windows — you know, the ones that emphasize every flaw? I don’t really mind trying on clothes. And, the biggest change? I wear shorts now.

I still have a ways (weighs!) to go… Another 35 pounds will put me at losing an even 100. Then I’ll really feel like I’ve accomplished something. And so I’ll keep finding destinations for Robbie and myself. And stroll myself right out of those last 35 pounds.

Although we’re a little late, Justin and I took Robbie to get his one-year pictures made this afternoon. We are exhausted! We might have fared better if Robbie had slept last night, but he was up at 1:00 and needed a bottle and a half of milk to go back to sleep. Maybe that’s what I should have had, too, because I tossed and turned until Robbie woke up again at 7:00. Luckily, my kind and loving husband took Robbie downstairs for some man time and let me get an extra hour and a half of sleep. Even so, I’m finding that taking on a full day of everything Robbie has to offer requires a solid night’s sleep.

Even though I awoke to some sort of screaming (how else would I hear it through a closed door and noisy air conditioner), Justin assured me everything had been fine while I was asleep. Judging by how fast Robbie leapt into my arms (while Justin was still holding him), I’m not so sure that the boys’ definitions of “fine” are the same. But, both were in one piece, and I’ll take that for an extra ninety minutes of sleep. Don’t judge; you know you feel the same way!

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After Robbie’s nap it was time to head to the Everett Target and the mass of humanity that had taken over the parking lot. We managed to survive crazy drivers and stupid pedestrians to get to the photo studio. Incidentally, who stops in a lane of traffic in front of a busy Target on a Sunday afternoon to rifle through their bags? We were quite a site struggling through the parking lot, wriggling baby and photo props in tow. We figured Robbie needed something to keep him occupied for the pictures and brought his rocket, Buzz Lightyear, Woody, and some books. I’ve never actually taken toys into a Target; it feels wrong somehow.

Robbie was a totally different kid for this photo session… A mobile one. Thank goodness we had the toys; I think those are the only reason we survived. Robbie was all over the place! Crawling to get behind the backdrop, grabbing for the camera that we couldn’t replace if he broke it, making a dash for the door to escape the camera. It was a rough day of being adorable. I stood near Robbie to catch him before he tried to jet, and Justin positioned himself behind the photographer, doing a monkey dance and making sounds I never want to try to duplicate. But, at the end of it all, we had some priceless pictures.

Robbie broke down as we left the store, and Justin lamented about how exhausted he was. I asked if he still thought I didn’t work during the summer, and the defeated man just shook his head, muttering, “I don’t know how you do it. I just don’t know.” Finally! Vindication! And, I have to be honest, I don’t know how all the stay at home moms do it. You have my total respect. I get to go back to work in three weeks, and, to be totally honest, I’m so relieved!

Tonight we hosted a first birthday party for four very special young men. Remember those close friends I couldn’t have survived without over the past year? We pretended the party was for our boys, but really it was a celebration of us (and our marriages!) surviving the past year. After exchanging presents for the boys, we all wondered why we hadn’t just exchanged presents with each other. After all, we did most of the work over the past year!

Growing up, I shared a birthday with a good childhood friend, Helen. We used to have our birthday parties together – I can remember one at the Living Arts and Science Center. I always thought it was special to have someone to share my parties with, and I love that Robbie has the same thing. Pete was born on the 21st, Max on the 27th, Robbie on the 28th, and Noah on the 29th. Even though they may not have the same birthday, we love that they are all in order (except for Pete who didn’t get the memo that he needed to be born the 26th, but he leads the way with having the wisdom of living an extra week).

The first time we got the boys together they were five or six weeks old and didn’t do much other than nurse and poop. They were just babies, after all. Today? They were all in little boy mode. The crawled around, picking up pine cones and sticks. They rolled toys on the driveway. And they were filthy. They squirmed and talked and grabbed and ate. It was everything a birthday party should have been. Right down to the tears. Robbie melted down at 6:00, his normal bath time. Ever the perfect host, right?

We did force the boys to make a video for Good Morning America’s “Week in Three Words” segment. We lined them up in chairs and had the husbands hold up the words behind them. I’ll post the video when I upload it. “Friends turning one!” was the sign (including a separate sign for the exclamation mark). Hopefully, our boys will get their fifteen minutes of fame on a future episode. Keep your eyes peeled!

Justin and I took a much needed date night tonight. We left Robbie, Barkley, and the catties in the hands of a reliable babysitter (and former student of mine) and went out on the town. Justin and I met for dinner at Za, a great place for pizza and salad (that’s actually all they serve).

The place was packed, and about a quarter of the tables had children. Loud children. The booth next to our small, romantic table had a three-year-old who wanted to be a part of our date and kept peering over at us from the top of the booth. The child at the table across from us was eating a Crayon. Across the restaurant was a screaming child. And Justin and me? We were in heaven because none of it was coming from our table. There was no food to cut up, items to keep out of reach, cups to pick up off the floor, or crisis to avert. It was the epitome of romance.

It’s funny how date night changes after you have a baby. First, you don’t take it for granted anymore. You don’t know when your next meal alone will be, so the one at hand must be savored. Second, you try to fit in as much as possible. Take tonight for instance. Justin and I went to dinner, walked to the movies, saw a movie, and went for ice cream. Which leads to the third difference. You find yourself rushing through parts of your date to get home early enough to not have to take out a second mortgage to pay the babysitter. You also find yourself going to less expensive places because you have to factor in the cost of said babysitter to your meal.

But, from one parent to another, these nights are priceless. They are marriage saving. For me, they remind me that Justin and I are a married couple, not just co-parents who exist in the same house. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about? Remembering that we’re in love? I’m glad I got the reminder tonight. Now, go make plans for your date. And leave the kids at home!

I never realized how hard it was to fill an entire day with a one-year-old. And a rainy day? Forget about it. It’s a lost cause. Take full advantage of nap time because that’s the only bit of sanity you’re going to have. I was at such a loss for what to do today that I took Robbie for a walk in the rain. Twice.

Now, in all fairness, I didn’t mean to take him for a walk in the rain – either time. This morning I just didn’t have it in me to go to the gym. I couldn’t face forty minutes on the treadmill. Instead, Robbie watched me attempt to get through a Jillian Michaels workout on On-Demand. My compassionate son laughed the entire time. Still not feeling like I’d quite earned my breakfast, I decided to take Barkley and Robbie for a walk. When I do this, I’ve found that it’s easiest to put Robbie in the Jeep baby carrier (similar to the Baby Bjorn, but Justin’s all about Jeep…) and have Barkley on a leash. It’s do-able with a stroller but much more difficult to maneuver. It still took a good five minutes (and a full body sweat) to get the child strapped to my chest and the dog on his leash. When we got outside and felt the raindrops, I couldn’t bear to let myself admit defeat. So, although it was a short walk, we took one. Around the block. Once.

By this time, Robbie was ready for yogurt and a nap. He helped me get caught up on So You Think You Can Dance, rocking his head in time to the music (this makes for difficult yogurt-feeding). By the time he was down, I was ready for a nap myself. But, there was a house to clean, friends to chat with… You know, all the tough stuff. Plus, I knew I had to gear myself up for the afternoon, which was full of emptiness. And, as we all know, an empty afternoon is a dangerous afternoon.

Robbie took a generous three-and-a-half-hour nap and was raring to go by 1:40. Since it looked like the sky had cleared a little, I figured we would walk to The Meat House to get steaks for dinner. It was a mile and a half each way, which would make out for missing my run in the morning. We loaded Robbie in the stroller, bounced him down the stairs, and off we went, rocking to the music on the iPod. And the clouds rolled in. I kept expecting to see lightning bolts a few blocks over. Not that it would have kept me from my walk. There was no way I was sitting in the house with Robbie all afternoon. Especially since he’s discovered drawers and pulling everything out of them. It’s absolutely maddening.

We got the meat, stopped for a little iced coffee, and headed home. Incidentally, Robbie enjoys iced coffee. He kept watching me drink it, and I kept promising him that he wouldn’t like it. Except he did. A lot. Ever since he figured out how to use a straw, he’s been unstoppable. Now, don’t go panicking on me. He didn’t drink too much. But I was surprised that he drank any of it.

It started raining when we were a block or so from home, so we ducked into our local florist. Really, we probably could have made it home (the downpour didn’t start until we’d been there for five minutes), but I knew it would still be two hours until Justin was home. Instead, Meg chatted with us, showed Robbie all the toys she had (I may be back for that puppet!), and made a gorgeous arrangement of flowers for our dining room table (I can’t just stop in to talk all the time!).

Robbie and I survived today. And we have plans tomorrow afternoon, rain or shine! I think we’ll be filling the rest of the summer with lots of fun mother-son activities.

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Barkley wasn’t too sure about Robbie when we first brought the baby home. He was nervous about the little alien creature who made funny noises and got more attention. It’s been interesting to watch their relationship evolve over the course of the year. Barkley still runs away from Robbie when he sees Robbie crawling towards him. I think he had just gotten used to having the extra “pet” in the house when Robbie was suddenly able to chase him. But Robbie has learned how to keep Barkley as his best friend. Food. Strategically placed food.

On Sunday, I made a huge yard sale purchase: a red, pleather, child-sized recliner. It was the best $2 I ever spent. The recliner clashes horribly with our living room furniture. And, as anyone who knows my husband will attest, Justin would never allow such a thing to enter our house, much less remain a permanent fixture in a main room. No one was more surprised than me that it has become his new favorite piece of furniture. Apparently it’s a guy thing because Robbie loves the recliner just a little more than his dad. And it has become the centerpiece for forging an even stronger friendship with Barkley.

Robbie enjoys sitting in his recliner, watching his Baby Wildcat video (yes, propaganda…), eating some chicken and bananas. Barkley enjoys this as well because Robbie is excellent at sharing. I’m not quite sure where Robbie picked up the whole sharing thing, but he has it down pat. He takes a bite of food and hands over the second half of the bite to the dog, who is strategically placed at the arm of the recliner. Sometimes, Robbie forgets to save Barkley half of his bite, so he kindly removes the food from his mouth and Barkley gingerly takes it from his hands. Tonight, however, Robbie discovered a whole new level of fun in sharing with his best friend.

Young Robert discovered that if he puts food on the seat of the recliner next to him, Barkley will lean his furry little head over the arm of the chair to get even the smallest morsel of food. This puts the poor dog in an excellent position to be grabbed by the sticky hands of an ebulient one-year-old. And the poor dog was remarkably tolerant of this as Robbie pulled at his ears, looked at me, and grinned from ear to ear.

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