The Fastest Slowest Time

A colleague, and father to a wee one himself, wrote me a congratulatory email in which he declared that this would prove the fastest slowest time I would experience.

He spoke the truth.

TZog has only been with us for three months, but it feels that we have always had him.

I hardly remember him smaller - he's grown so much so quickly - but he's still so little!

Sometimes Tuesdays feel three days long, but I inevitably stare down each Saturday wondering where the week went.

As I emerge from the haze of late nights, early mornings and long days, I more fully realize that we have the privilege of watching TZog show us who he is - a smiling, singing, squirming little bear of a boy who has stolen our hearts.

Though I find now that many tasks and projects either take far longer than anticipated or fall by the wayside altogether, I have so far successfully insisted that each month we have family photo day to document the dynamic Zog tribe. Also, I realized that if did not set aside time to take photos together (with the help of a remote, a tripod and KZog) that I would have very few pictures of me with TZog, since I snap the bulk of the photos. Our attempts at capturing this fastest slowest time:

1 Month

2 Months

3 Months

XO,
JZog

And Now, What You've All Been Waiting For . . .

Over the last week and a half I have attempted to craft a new blog post between feedings, diaper changes, naps, and tummy time. Sometime yesterday, though, it occurred to me that: 1. It may realistically take me another week to render a coherent post, and 2. At this point, as clever a writer as I may be, what everyone is really interested in is more photos of TZog (and understandably so - he is quite the handsome little man!).

Without further ado, I present to you what you've all been waiting for:

One of His Favorite Naptime Places

Hold Your Head High!

Enjoying His Daily Live Concert

Chillin'

Mmmmmm

                           

'Til next time . . . 

XO,

JZog

Welcome, TZog!

Announcing TZog!

TZog arrived early Wednesday morning September 3, weighing in at an unexpected 8 pounds, 11 ounces and 20 inches long. We had quite a long adventure in labor and delivery, and the journey did not transpire quite as I had hoped. Suffice it to say that MamaZog needed an assist that required transfer from our birth center to the hospital. Though it sounds dramatic, and it felt so in the moment, at no time were either of us in an emergency situation.

Going Home

TZog's Sentry

The Zogs returned home Thursday afternoon, greeted by Pepperoni Pizza the Wonderpup and GmaR. Everyone continues to heal and enjoy getting to know one another.

TZog's World

Many thanks to all of our well-wishers, whether in person, via email, snail mail or phone. We look forward to sharing all of our new exploits with you!

XO,

JZog

LZog's Nest

In keeping with our avoidance of the conventional pink and blue, and even the neutrals, green, grey, and yellow, we present LZog's Nest in the aesthetic that I have dubbed Accidental Vintage (™ pending). We have some new items for LZog, but most everything we either made, acquired as the repository for family furniture and all manner of hand-me-downs, or some combination thereof. For now we have a Pack 'N Play in lieu of a crib (thank you Grandma and Papa), as KZog hopes to make LZog's crib/bed his second major carpentry project. Otherwise we have kept LZog's space fairly simple. Yes, we do have a television in the nursery for me during late night feedings and soothings. We will remove it once LZog decides to sleep through the night.

As Much of the Nest As I Could Capture in One Shot

While we feel pretty good about how LZog's space has evolved, both KZog and I will claim more than a small amount of pride in our family photo project. No, I did not find an example of this on Pintrest, though I suppose I would not feign surprise if I found that someone had already done a similar display in more spectacular (i.e.: expensive) fashion. The most taxing part of completing LZog's Family Album proved compiling the photos. In the end, however, we have baby, or at least childhood, photos of each of our siblings, parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents.

Who Will LZog Favor?

Each row follows a branch of LZog's family tree. KZog, me, and our siblings have the bottom row; our  parents, aunts and uncles grace the middle; and grandparents, the top row. We also discovered photos of KZog's great great aunt and great grandfather who arrived in the United States in 1908 from Holland through Ellis Island. After scanning and printing each photo, I created frames for each (thank you to JHet for help configuring them) and tags with the full name, birthdate, and relationship to LZog. Any information about the photo itself - date, other people, location - I wrote on the back of the frame.

LZog's Family Album

I decided early on that I would prefer  to have a glider in LZog's room, but I did not prefer to spend the $400 or more it would cost for a new one. Luckily, due to our embrace of the Accidental Vintage (™) aesthetic, we already had two in the house for me to choose from. I settled on one that  KZog's family had long ago dubbed "Uncle Harry's Spider Chair." Though we cannot place an exact age on the chair, we have seen them in photographs from as early as the mid-1950s. Unfortunately, poor Uncle Harry's chair does not seem to have undergone any refurbishing since at least that time. Underneath the orangish-brown fabric, itchy and dated, the cushion material had begun to disintegrate. I landed on a gold fabric with a raised circle pattern to keep with the vintage-y vibe of the piece and ordered custom foam cushions to replace the icky ones. The frame of the glider also underwent some rehab, namely the detachment of the complementary orangish-brown ruffle from the bottom and a rub-down with Murphy's Oil Soap.

KZog Disassembling the Ruffle

The Original Fabric

Honestly, this project took me far, far longer than I care to admit. I only followed a pattern in the sense that I deconstructed the pieces from the old cover, and I worried that it wouldn't all quite go back together. In the end it all turned out better than fine, though not without repeated stabbing of my fingers with the pins holding all the layers of fabric together.

Hooray for a Sunny, Comfy Glider

I also made an ottoman to accompany my "new" glider with fabric from my ever-expanding stash and over fifteen pounds of stuffing.

Feet Propper Upper

So, LZog, we have the necessaries for your homecoming - a place for you to sleep, places to hold your clothes and other accessories, and a place for us to rock, feed, and read to you. We won't say we're "ready" for you, whatever that means, but we are ready to have you here with us.

XO,
JZog
Click Here if You Would Like to Check Out LZog's Registry

The Waiting Game/Pregnant and Public Property

Considerably less fun than the name game is the waiting game. Despite all my attempts to distract myself, I find myself obsessed with when LZog will decide to debut. Now? Maybe now? And what about now? Avoidance behavior worked far better when in relationship to the dissertation . . .

Everyone knows we are waiting. And most everyone has something to say about it.

Take the following dialogue, which happened late last week between myself and a seventy-year-old-ish woman with whom I have exchanged maybe twenty words over the five years we have lived two blocks away from her (not out of spite, only a matter of interest and convenience, I suppose). As I may have mentioned before, something about having a pregnant belly renders people senseless in conversation. Also worth noting, this entire exchange occurred with me in the street walking Pepperoni Pizza the Wonderpup and she shouting at me from the confines of her garage.

Garage Lady: "Haven't you had that baby yet?"

Me - Internal Monologue: Well clearly, no, I haven't. Either that or I have replaced my pregnant belly with a cyst the size of a watermelon. Perhaps I should look down at my belly and start screaming "Oh my gosh! There's a baby in there?" Or maybe, look down and say, "Yeah, I left him at home. It's too difficult to walk both the baby and the dog." Instead it proceeded this way:

Me: "Nope." 

Garage Lady: "When's it gonna be here?"

Me: "Whenever it's ready."

Silence. Not the answer she expected, I suspect. Of course, since I have not scheduled an induction or c-section, I have no idea when LZog will be here. I could have toned down the snark a tad. However, the inanity of asking whether or not I have had LZog when it seems quite obvious that I have not, affects me even more deeply as we see the lights flickering at the end of the tunnel, er, canal. For future reference to all of you who may encounter a pregnant woman ever: no matter how clever you may be or think you are, refrain from commenting on said woman's size, state of mind, or arrival of the little one. She may or may not react mildly.

But, this encounter proved nothing compared with the borderline assault the next day during the puppy walk. I thought I would be so, so smart and take a different route. Lesson learned.

In what at first appeared a redux of the previous day, it began with a different seventy-year-old-ish lady hollering at us (did I neglect to mention that KZog got to enjoy this one live and in person, too?) from her front yard while we walked the dog.

Yard Lady: "I'm ready for you to have that baby."

Me - Internal Monologue: Lady, I hardly know you from Adam. I've not shared a beer with you, and you don't know how to say or spell my last name. We are not friends.

Me: "Ok."

Yard Lady: "Is it a boy or a girl?"

KZog: "We decided to wait to find out."

Yard Lady: Gaining speed out of front yard, towards us. "Oh really? Looks like a boy to me." Still lumbering towards us.

Me - Internal Monologue: Holy crap, why is this woman scooting towards me with her arms out! Pepperoni Pizza, you better jump all over her so I can move out of the way. I should really not allow my eighty pound labrador to knock over an older woman, but . . .

Me: "The baby's already dropped, there really isn't anything to - - -whoa, whoa, whoa, Pepperoni . . . " (I attempt to waddle away, while my dog wiggles towards Yard Lady to lick her. This woman really, really wants to touch my belly, and I really, really want to run away.)

Yard Lady: "Well if I just - - - -"

Me: "I really don't like people touching my belly. And Pepperoni Pizza doesn't like it either."

And where did I find KZog during all this? Watching in amazement. I really cannot blame him, though.  I wouldn't have believed this entire event had I not experienced it.

Seriously. That I should have to explain that I don't want people I know not well palpating my very pregnant belly and, really, therefore, my kiddo, completely baffles me. When LZog arrives, I will bodily harm random people who run up and squish his body parts, so guess what, they don't get to do so now. Also, a question to well-meaning but misguided neighbors, random people in retail shops, and grocery store checkers of the world: what exactly do you win if you correctly guess, unsolicited, the sex of my kiddo, who you will likely never meet? Congratulations! You just made a prediction with a 50/50 chance of success! Impress me by predicting where LZog will go to college or something.

We have fewer than two weeks until the "official" due date, which means LZog could arrive any time or three weeks from now. I have much updating needed here on all the lovely gifts you have sent for LZog as well as photos of the nursery and more of my many mini projects. In other words, plenty of posting to keep me busy . . .

XO,
JZog
To Take a Look at LZog's Registry, Click Here!