& we’re still kickin’

Sorry, folks. I know, it’s been a while, and you’ve probably moved on from us. I understand. I had to put the blog in the garage for a while—we got busy since my with a whole bunch of stuff. So let me recap and get you caught up with the Sasquatch family.

How do you pack a toddler, exactly?

How do you pack a toddler, exactly?

For starters, we moved. I don’t know if you’ve ever moved with a toddler, but to quote Lady Gwendolyn of Stefania: “That shit is bananas.” The last time we moved, Squatch was about five weeks old, and he was pretty much out of the way. This time, he was all up in everything. If he was around while we were packing, he was taking stuff out of the box as fast as we could get it in there. Packing his room was especially awful. What probably should’ve taken about half an hour was a three-day ordeal. If you have to move with a toddler, just leave your stuff and get new things. It’ll just be easier that way, trust me. Maybe you’ll luck out and the people who were there before you had a toddler—then you can just have their stuff.

Squatch has been growing up way too fast. He got a big-boy bed, he’s doing all kinds of stuff on his own, and he’s talking a bunch. Like a lot. Like ALL THE TIME. I wish I was exaggerating. There have been days where, if he wasn’t sleeping, he was talking. About anything and everything. It’s adorable and exhausting. One of my favorite videos (courtesy of Karli):

This kid. #grahamcrackcrack #mynose

A post shared by Karli Davis (@1001tries) on

It’s that, all the time. Usually a lot louder, though.

So the move and the Squatch are why you didn’t hear from me all summer, and then I started school in August and have pretty much been busy with reading and endless papers since then*. It’s great being back in school, but so much more difficult than the last time I did this. My program is more demanding, for one, but I also didn’t have to do reading in between playing trains and episodes of Team Umizoomi. Totally a different ballgame these days.

*It’s still busy as hell. This is just my way of procrastinating.

So that’s what’s been keeping us pretty busy—moving, toddler, school, work, preparing for the new baby, Christmas decorations…

What was the last one you said? Christmas decorations? Well, it is that time of year…

Oh, before that? The baby. Okay, you got me. Maybe I should have led with that. Internet, meet Sugarfoot:

Arriving under a Christmas tree near you (as long as you're near Kansas City).

Arriving under a Christmas tree near you (as long as you’re near Kansas City).

The due date is December 27*, which means that as of this Saturday, we’re officially in “any day now” territory. Karli’s doing well, but the pregnancy for this one has been completely different—for both (well, all three) of us.

*I know, you’re finding out really late in the game. You can be mad at me, it’s okay.

Obligatory cuteness: Squatch was Bob Ross for Halloween. Commence squealing with delight.

Obligatory cuteness: Squatch was Bob Ross for Halloween. Commence squealing with delight.

For Squatch, it should be fairly obvious how it’s different. Karli’s having a rougher go of it than the first time around—morning sickness was worse, pains and indigestion have been worse, I’ve been worse. It’s not been much of an enjoyable experience for her, with the exception of her doctor, who is infinitely better than the last one. That’s the benefit of living in a city instead of forty-five minutes outside a town nobody beyond Oklahoma has heard of.

On my end, it’s crazier, too. Not as difficult as it is for Karli, but I’m pulling the extra duty of taking care of a pregnant lady and a rambunctious, talkative toddler this time. Plus all that crap I was talking about before. You’re jealous, I know.

So that’s where we’re at. I wish I could stay and talk more, but I’ve got a meeting to get to. This is my life now. I won’t make it so long between now and our next chat, and the next time I show up, we’ll have to talk about new blog names. This one’s about to become obsolete.

& sleeping cutie

So fair warning here: chances are I’m going to piss you off a bit here, particularly if you’re the parent of a toddler who’s a little less than cooperative. At times, this might sound like I’m complaining about something practically every parent would give almost any amount of money for. Know that I’m not, but really just making an observation. It’s still okay if you hate me for this. I’ll understand.

haters-gonna-hate_1231

The thing is, Squatch likes sleep. He gets that from his mom. Not that I don’t like sleep—I’m a pretty big fan—it’s just that Karli and Squatch can work the hell out of a nap. We’ve lucked out that we haven’t had sleeping problems very often or very long with this one. Yes, you can start to hate me now. If it makes you feel any better, he does get up pretty early

Keepin it classy in KC.

Keepin it classy in KC.

This past Sunday, Squatch and I took in a Royals day game with my mom as a belated Mother’s Day celebration. It meant he had to miss his nap, and really only got about 10 minutes of sleep on the way from the game to the barbecue place*. By the time we got home, he was beat. He was a really good sport about it, but he crashed early and slept in (till SEVEN A.M.!) the next morning.

*Gates Bar B. Q., if you were wondering. It doesn’t really get much better than baseball and Kansas City barbecue on a beautiful day. And while we’re on it, I’ll just go ahead and put it out there—KC barbecue is the best barbecue. I’m not even going to argue it, so don’t even try.

Monday, he finally did take a nap—FOR FOUR HOURS! Yeah, I know. That’s what I’m going to talk about, and why you’re going to hate me. Because while there is sheer awesomeness to be had in a four-hour nap, especially due to its rarity, there’s one thing I observed about this phenomenon: It’s really hard to get stuff done when your kid naps for four hours.

“But that’s just stupid. I can get a lot done in that four hours.”

First off, good to see you again, Imaginary Internet Reader. Haven’t heard from you in a while. And secondly, you’re right—sort of. The thing about kids, especially young ones, is that schedules and routine really matter. These guys can’t tell time, so routine keeps them from constantly flipping their shit. And if your kid routinely takes two hour naps, you learn to get things done during those two hours.

When your kid hunkers down for a four-hour nap, you don’t actually know it’s going to be a four-hour nap. You get your plan set for the two-hour slot you usually have to fill and you do all the things before your kid wakes up.

Only then he doesn’t get up. So what do you do? You don’t want to start on something you need to dedicate a ton of time to because he’s already passed his normal waking point, and he can pop right out of bed at any time now, demanding your attention. Instead, you decide to undertake tasks that you can easily abandon at a moment’s notice and require little commitment. You’re paralyzed on your couch because you just know the minute you settle into that big project, that’s when he’s going to get up.

And that’s how you spend half your afternoon watching YouTube videos instead of doing something actually useful.

“So why don’t you just wake your kid up after two hours so he keeps his schedule?”

Screw that, IIR. It’s four hours of me time. I’m not giving that up, not for all the YouTubes in the world.

(A quick coda: Yesterday’s was a three-hour nap, only the internet was out at my place for most of it, so I went with a book instead. Books: The internet before the internet was the internet.)

Squatch’s Summer Reading List

A little light reading to start off the day.

A little light reading to start off the day.

Howdy, Computer People! Squatch here—again—since Daddy can’t seem to get it together to run this place anymore. When you want stuff done right, you have to cry until it happens, y’know?

So I’m coming onto the bloggy-ma-jobby today to talk to you guys about reading. It’s super important, in case you didn’t know, and super fun. After cars, trucks, planes, trains, dinosaurs, applesauce, hamburgers, and swings, reading is my favorite thing!

And I’m sure, since Daddy tells me I’m a big computer celebrity, everyone in the computer is wondering what I like to read. It’s a good question, because aside from Mater, I’m the most interesting person I know. Why wouldn’t you want to know the books I like to read?

Maybe you can consider this Squatch’s Book Club—kind of like that lady on TV, only I don’t give out free stuff. This isn’t about my books that Daddy likes. All the books here come with the Squatch seal of approval, and if that’s not worth something, then you’re not worth knowing.

Wait, that was rude. Say you’re sorry.

Now, onto the Squatch book picks for the summer of whatever year this is.

Bear in Underwear

BIUbookThis book tops the list this year. I don’t know what it is about this one that I like so much. Maybe it’s the squishy cloth underwear on the front cover that are so much fun to touch. Maybe it’s that I can actually pronounce* all the words in the title. Maybe it’s the bright colors, which are always a big hit.

*[Daddy’s note]: Kind of. “Underwear” sounds like “uh-weh,” but we’re going to count it.

Whatever the reason, I can’t get enough of this book. I like it so much that Mommy and Daddy ripped off the design for my birthday invitations, and Gram said she’d make me a Bear in Underwear cake for my party. I don’t know if they’ve given out the Pulitzer for this year*, but this one is a sure-fire winner.

*[Daddy’s note]: It’s not eligible because A) it’s a picture book, B) it was published in 2010, and C) it’s about an anthropomorphic bear finding a backpack full of underwear and sharing it with his friends. Oops—spoiler alert.

The Little Blue Truck books

LBTbooksLittle Blue Truck is about a truck. So is Little Blue Truck Leads the Way. That makes them automatic winners. Throw in a gaggle of animals making noises and a bunch of other cars, also making noises, and you’ve got a couple contenders for Night-Night Book of the Year. (That’s a thing, right?*) I can—and do—have Mommy and Daddy read both of these books over and over and over. And over again, just to make sure they’ve picked up on all the nuances of plot and characterization.

*[Daddy’s note]: Nope.

The only downside to these books is that one of the lessons they’re trying to teach is about slowing down and taking turns. This flies in the face of everything I know about the world. It just doesn’t work that way. First of all, you have to go fast. Second, it’s always my turn. Always. But if you look past the pie-in-the-sky idealism here, they’re pretty good page-turners.

Dr. Seuss Bright and Early Board Books

SuessbooksThese books are a must own for every bookshelf. Of course, I’m talking about the original trilogy here—if you find anyone that says his favorite is The Foot Book, well, you just can’t trust anything else that comes out of his mouth. You have to read them back-to-back, three times over, in the proper order, too. First comes There’s a Wocket in my Pocket!, then Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?, and finally ABC.

Occasionally, you might run into the occasional person who says ABC should come first, because you have to learn the alphabet. But these people are nuts. If you read ABC first, you miss the setup of the zany creatures in Wocket, which helps establish the altered reality of the world. Mr. Brown helps ground the reader in a familiar setting, while ABC helps tie the two threads together into a satisfying conclusion. Duh.

Hippos Go Berserk

HGBbookWho doesn’t love hippos, honestly? And going berserk? C’mon! Put them together? Gold!

I’ve read this one so much that Daddy has it memorized. Sometimes, I like to sit on my stool in the bathroom with it while Daddy’s in the shower and he reads it to me. I don’t even have to flip the pages. THAT’S HOW GOOD IT IS!

The bad part about this book is that you can see all the plot twists coming once you see where she’s going with it. The hippos keep counting up and you know at some point, with that many hippos, they’re going to go berserk. Then it starts counting down and—well, I’m not going to spoil the ending for people who don’t understand basic plot formulas.

Tootle

TootlebookThis would probably be my No. 1 favorite all-time book, except for one thing: I have no idea what happens in it. Whenever Mommy or Daddy tell me to go pick out a book, this one’s my first go-to. Even when they try to hide it in the middle of all the Golden Books, I yank them all out till I find this one.

But I don’t ever actually want to read it. I just like to point out the choo-choos. Have you ever seen this book? SO MANY CHOO-CHOOS! We haven’t ever actually made it past the second page of the story. I mean, look at that cover—if that’s not the happiest friggin choo-choo you’ve ever seen, I’ll eat a whole Chipotle chicken taco and the little bag of chips that comes with it*.

*[Daddy’s note]: Don’t take that bet. He’ll do that anyway.

Machines and Colors

MachinesNColorsThey’re not the same book, but I lumped them together anyway because they’re both kind of plotless and more character-driven.

These are tried-and-true favorites that I keep going back to time and time again. I love machines, so that one’s kind of a no-brainer. I don’t think I can even count how many machines are in that book, but it’s a lot. And I’m learning my colors, so the other book really helps, too. I’m getting really good at them by now. (Pro tip: The answer’s always “yellow.”*)

*[Daddy’s note]: No, it’s not.

Bears on Chairs

BOCbookI’m going to be perfectly honest here—I included this book to throw Mommy a bone. She really likes reading me this one.

Not that I can blame her, mind you. I mean, it’s got bears, and that’s always a crowd pleaser. And it’s got chairs. I like chairs. And that Big Brown Bear is a riot. Plus, as a bonus, it rhymes. You can’t hate that.

It’s just all about sharing, which, as I’ve already established, is a little bit of a useless lesson. I can understand why Mommy likes that, though. She loves sharing. She almost always shares her dinner with me. And her cookies. And ice cream. And water from her Mommy cup. And anything else when I want it. She’s a sharer. It makes sense that this is her favorite book ever. Daddy never shares. I think he tried to bite me once when I tried sharing*. And he holds that fork like he’s going to stab a wildebeest with it. I like sharing with Mommy.

*[Daddy’s note]: This is probably almost certainly completely sort of untrue. I think. I get into kind of a fog when it’s mealtime, so I can’t be sure.

So there’s your reading assignment for the summer, computer people. Better get to it. Any suggestions for me? I’ll pass them along to my staff.

& all the words

This truck was not made to be used this way. It paid the price.

This truck was not made to be used this way. It paid the price.

So tomorrow Squatch is 17 months old*. It’s also Thanksgiving. I’m going to combine these two things into one post. Really, just watch.

*I know it’s not really a big milestone age or whatever, but I haven’t posted in a while and you take what you can get.

In the past couple weeks, Squatch has picked up a bunch of words and is using them pretty regularly now. This is a new development I’m pretty thankful for* because it means I have someone to talk to on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I’m home with him all day. Ok, so not really talk to because our conversations usually consist of him pointing at something and saying a word and me confirming that the word he used is indeed the correct word (or close to it).

*See, there’s the Thanksgiving part.

I’m a little bit too technologically-impaired/lazy/tired/inept/lazy to get a video of him saying all his words. So instead I’ll try to provide a little Squatch-to-English collection of his vocabulary thus far, in roughly chronological order of how he picked them up.

  • happyscream“Woah” = woah*
  • “Wow” = wow*
  • “Ma” = ball (it has since transformed into something like “mall”)
  • “Shoosh” = shoes
  • “Took” = Turk (our cat)**
  • “Shee” = shirt
  • “Car” = car
  • “Tay” = chair
  • “Took” = truck**
  • “Sauce” = socks
  • “Tees” = this***
  • “Fee” = fish
  • “Beep beep” = beep beep
  • “Waba” = robot****

*These two he’s actually been using for quite a while, and it still cracks our asses up anytime he says them.
**The words for “Turk” and “truck” are easily confused and basically the same thing. Context needs to be gleaned from what he’s pointing at.
***”This” is usually used as a question when he’s pointing at something and wants us to say the word for it.
****I’m most proud of this one. It’s an indication that I’m doing this whole parenting thing right. (He learned it from the chain pull in his ceiling light that I let him pull to turn out the light at bedtime.)

You’ll notice that “Mommy” and “Daddy” aren’t on the list. It’s not that he doesn’t know them—it’s that he never says them. At least not to us. Sometimes, when Karli gets home, he’ll run out from his room saying “mamamamamama” over and over again, but we can’t exactly tell if that’s just his default babble or if he actually knows what he’s saying. So I’m not counting them. Not yet.

It’s just the start of a new era, I know, and I’m sure some day when he’s fully become his mother’s son and will talk for the entire car ride from here to Minnesota, I’ll look back at this and regret the excitement I felt over his first few words, hoping for a few minutes of peace.

But not now. It’s been far too quiet around here during the days.

& a little off the top

It’s been a while since I’ve shown up here, so you might not have seen Squatch lately*. After a long period at the beginning where we wondered if he was ever going to get hair, he looked like this:

He's quite a bit bigger than you might've imagined. Then again, he's called "Squatch," so maybe not.

He’s quite a bit bigger than you might’ve imagined. Then again, he’s called “Squatch,” so maybe not.

He’s not exactly high and tight, but as far as I was concerned, his hair looked fine. He could even stand to let it grow some more and I wouldn’t have minded. Karli, on the other hand, had started making grumblings about a haircut a month or so ago.

*Of course, that would change if you became a fan of my Facebook page. Give in. You know you wanna.

I fought it as long as I could. I made my arguments, presented my case, and tried to give his hair a stay of execution. However, it has been made clear to me that when you cut your own hair, your opinions on others’ hairstyles loses almost all currency. Who knew?

This past weekend, she made good on her threats. We headed on down to the place Karli gets her hair cut*, since the lady who does that called dibs on Felix’s first one when the time came. Something I thought wouldn’t be coming till sometime next year, but I’ve been wrong before**.

*Because apparently real people pay other people to cut their hair. Again, who knew?
**See: “blogging, time management in”

"You're gonna do what to my hair now?"

“You’re gonna do what to my hair now?”

TheCutI’d been warned about baby’s first haircut before. People said there was going to be crying. And fighting. Possibly some restraining would need to be involved. And the kid wouldn’t react well, either.

Ba-dum-bum!

We girded ourselves for the screaming, wriggling ball of angry that would undoubtedly come once the scissors came out. Karli sat in the chair with him and was ready to hold tight to him if need be. I got the camera ready for what would surely be some blackmail-worthy photos as he gets older.

And nothin’. FREAKIN’ NOTHIN’! He was good. He wiggled a little bit, but otherwise was about as calm as a 15-month-old kid can be. He skipped his nap, so maybe there wasn’t any fight left in him. Or maybe he was just used to the place since we’d been there with his mom for her haircuts before. Or maybe Andrea (the haircutter lady) was just that good. For whatever reason, it was nothing like what we had prepared ourselves for.

And the finished product?

Tiger Beat, here I come.

Tiger Beat, here I come.

You may now commence saying how much he looks like a little boy instead of a baby. Because holy shit, he looks like a little boy!

Where’d my baby go?

How I Spent my Summer Vacation, Part 2

The Grind

It’s Squatch again. You guys loved me last time, so Daddy let me do another one. He’s sitting on the couch watching the Come-On-Down-Scream-And-Jump Show.

Even when we’re not conducting baby torture experiments in a rented minivan, we’ve been staying pretty busy all summer. Any given day, I have a pretty hectic schedule of playing with my cars, eating big boy foods, playing with my zoo animals, reorganizing the DVDs, and poking the cat. Speaking of big boy foods, WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT HAMBURGERS? I went all this time eating mush when I could’ve been going to town on some meat patties! I thought you had my back, computer people. And ice cream, too! WHAT ELSE ARE YOU HIDING FROM ME?

Zoos are awesome, guys! They even let you ride the animals!

Zoos are awesome, guys! They even let you ride the animals!

Some days I take Mommy and Daddy to the zoo. We’ve been a bunch of times already this summer because it’s been pretty nice out most of the time. When it’s nice out, the animals like to come out and talk to me, and I can talk Gram or Aunt Kellie or my buddy Jack or Grammy to come with me. My favorites are the monkeys and the lions and the bongos. Daddy’s favorite is carrying me everywhere, even when he tells me how heavy I am. I can tell he loves it, which is why I make him do it.

The zoo even has a place where you ride animals on sticks around to music, and I get to go on it every time we go. I got to ride a kangaroo and a penguin and a lion already. Next time I kinda want to try one of the monkeys because they look like they know how to party.

I also get to go to the park and the library a lot. At least, I get to go when Daddy’s not watching the Wear-A-Costume-And-Jump-Up-And-Down Show or the Boring-People-Ask-Lots-Of-Questions Show. I got to go to a baseball game a couple weeks ago, and I watched Daddy play in a hockey game, too. My favorite part was the zamboni. I think baseball could probably use a little more zamboni, if you ask me.

All ready to go. I'm just hoping there's not too much homework.

All ready to go. I’m just hoping there’s not too much homework.

It’s getting toward the end of summer now, which means Daddy has to go back to school. And that means I’m going to school, too. Mommy and Daddy found me a place that they say I’ll like, but I’m going to be the judge of that. I went and looked at the room where I’m supposed to be hanging out, and there’s no zoo animals or cars or kitties to play with. It’s not looking good so far. I’ve yet to search their cabinets to see the status of graham crackers and goldfish, but I’m not holding out hope.

I’ve been working on a plan for the first day. I call it Operation Take Me Back Home. I can’t go into details since Mommy and Daddy will read this when they scrape themselves away from naptime, but I will say it involves a lot of crying and screaming and not letting go of Mommy no matter what. The kinks are still getting worked out, but I think I can get it polished in the next couple weeks. Wish me luck.

One of the big parts of the summer has been me figuring things out, though. Like daycare—I figured out what’s going on there all on my own. Plus, there’s the reason Daddy says he needs more naps:

It’s still a work in progress, but I’m getting a lot better at it. I figure I should be a pro by the time daycare starts so I can follow Mommy back out to the parking lot.

Oops. You weren’t supposed to know that part.