Ma Beagle

It has been brought to my attention that perhaps too much time has been given to the blatherings of family events rather than baby happenings. To that I say, "phooey." Ass kissing family bios are the key to a long line of committed baby sitters. But, note taken. I will try harder to offer actual experiences the fellas have had; I will continue to include those taking part in the ongoing story of babies evolving into boys. From Colorado to Illinois and elsewhere, too many people have played a huge role that has to be included. With that said, how about a big shout out to Ma Beagle. That is the nickname my mother has earned, which was inspired by the infamous Duck Tales character who repeatedly sprung her sons from the slammer. This is something I know my mother would do for me, and hopefully my sons. We have such high aspirations in this family.

Kristin travelled to DC for work a few weeks back, and I had a hard time accepting the wake up duties for the week. "Mommy help." So she did. The boys and I would probably have managed just fine sitting around in our pajamas all week, but this was a great opportunity for Grandma Kathy to visit for the third time in 6 months.

Not having any daughters of her own, my mother has always enjoyed being a part of the action during those critical hours at the hospital. Those stressful hours of waiting and hoping that everything goes well for all parties involved. Forget about the 5 minutes between boys, when you feel like standing up to help the doctors since anything over 30 seconds was too long. Seriously, enough chit chat! Where is the other baby? Granted, Bethany was the one leading the paparazzi as the boys made their way down a hallway to meet the crowd, but you can be sure that Kathy was front and center taking pictures with shaky hands.

Kathy's dramatic nature has always brought otherwise mundane events to life. How did she sculpt her 4 skeptical sons into Cubs fans? Why did my brother Shawn believe in Santa Clause in 6th grade? I remember my brothers crying with her as Lee Smith and the Cubs decided not to take the pennant in 1984. I remember my dad setting reindeer traps on the roof to keep us from second guessing. All that was real. Grandma Kathy reminds us why we celebrate, and if there is no good reason then she will find you one. The boys were lucky to have a grandma and babysitter like that, and soon they will also have stories to tell. Thanks for the help.

On deck: 21 fresh inches of snow on the ground, but still not enough to keep Grandma Cyndi at bay. Her admitted withdrawal problem results in her booking a flight because the boys have decided to sit up without her consent. Something like that anyways.

Dragons' Lair

"Parents always make their worst mistakes with the oldest children. Thats when parents know the least but care the most, so they're more likely to be wrong and also more likely to insist they're right." - Orson Scott Card

We started baby sign language this week for no better reason than, why not? Advocates for this consumer product claim higher IQ, increased vocabulary, and even immortality I think. I can just picture Eliot getting hungry in kindergarten and using a cow-milking gesture to get teachers attention. That is the exact sign for milk- so yeah, a little strange from the get go. Kristin just figured with all the spare time on our hands, lets have some fun. I was pushing for Portuguese, but that will have to wait for the next litter.

Some days are harder than others. Kristin had to travel for work again last week, and this time I couldn't cry for my mother to fly out and help. With two, we really try to keep them on a regimented schedule when it comes to feeding. This may sound excessive, or maybe even militaristic, but it really helps avoid the chaos that ensues with the 'feed when hungry' approach. Despite my strategic efforts, the boys fed on the fact that I was without reinforcements, and would scream in my face just for kicks. Enough is enough, Eliot gets moved upstairs and into the bouncer chair. He continues screaming only now I have the floor and a few walls to buffer the attack while I feed Finn, which is really all he ever wants. But every possible measure has failed to calm the 15 pound dragon known as Eliot. I dig deeper now, slowly gaining more strength and patience. A muzzle, I think to myself. Drat! I said only as a last resort. Ahhhh.... the motrin. If he doesn't actually have a toothache, you can bet your lucky dime that I will point out a tooth about to breech. But all is now well, and triage was the order of the day.


The part I don't understand, is the gripping power these two little dragons have. After all the fussing, eating, diapers, and more, we always end up testing them once more each night. After they have fallen asleep, we wind up tip-toeing into their room for just one last peek at them. Its almost as if those cute peaceful faces are daring us to dip down and give them one last peck. There is something satisfying about standing triumphant in the dragons' lair. You know they could breath fire at any time, yet we stand there with some kind of dominating pride of a successful day.

Alabama Boondocks

With each family visit, we are constantly reminded that things and people do actually change when we aren't there. Facing the mountains to the west, it feels like something important is going on behind us, but looking over my shoulder doesn't help much. If you care a little you can feel that, but caring a lot puts us on the road, perhaps more than we should be. Maybe while people developed as family oriented pack animals, they also developed some connectedness only explained in quantum mechanics and DNA. And transplants, such as ourselves, feel that urge to migrate to our genetic base. Maybe I've been reading too much sci-fi and should get back to cute babies and readable stories. More to the point, we visited my brother and his family in Alabama, recent transplants themselves.

From top down: Delaney, Finley, Brady

Right: Chris and Tawnie

They have a nice spread only a stones throw away from the Coosa River, which is a nice resource to have when you need to catch a little 'sup-sup.' Delaney (3) and Brady (5) were the first bare-footed hill billies to run up to the car when we pulled in. Makenna (12) and Trevor (7), two honor roll mainstays this year, were soon in the mix after Tawnie surprised them by bringing Kristin along when picking them up at school. Sometimes the best vacations are the ones without set plans, and that is exactly what we enjoyed most in Alabama. By nightfall, Steve and Nina had arrived for their third visit to the Bama Connors this year. Trevor was reeling in his first catfish of the evening, just a tad too small for eating. Chris would soon trump his son with a 5 pound monster that Steve had to assist him with. Life was good.

One story circulating through our family is that Chris was reaching for a sword to protect his family that night the back door burst open. For the record, lets just clear up that myth here and now. He sat comfortably on the couch sipping his wine, at no point reaching for a sword. The only chivalry I saw was in Trevor wearing a cape all night. But none was needed as Dan and Carly were the culprits, with their unannounced entrance to a surprise visit. If you ask me, Dan only drove down because he was concerned about the mental state of both Trevor and Brady. He has long been suspicious of his nephew wearing capes more often than not, and would try to get to the bottom of it.

Trevor and Brady were sharing a birthday party that Sunday, so Chris and I were fixin to head into town for some party fixins. I try. We passed some kids playing along the riverbank and noticed them carrying a rifle instead of a fishing pole. Whatever works, right? If that wasn't indicative of Alabama culture, the clothes-optional Wallmart towncenter had everything we needed, so we had that going for us. Later on, Tawnie and I were making some food when Chris decided to sing to Finley. Some song about how Finn looked like a hippopotamus, but it was okay because everybody still loved him. I think the last time we spent time with Chris in the south was in New Orleans almost 10 years ago. Christopher, Kristin, and I were trying to sneak in the back door of a piano bar at 4 in the morning...... and now this? A room full of 6 kids with Chris singing, instead of dueling pianos and tropical cocktails.

Left: Nina leads the way through Nacaloola Falls

Right: Eliot and product placement for grandpa Kevin.

The birthday party was great. Trevor was Harry Potter that day, and Brady went as Superman. The other kids dressed up too, which was encouraging for Dan and his identity crisis theories. Makenna was a great nanny, taking care of Eliot the entire day and night. Chris and Tawnie have hosting a party down pat, and even used the phrase "ya'll" a few times to make their friends feel more comfortable. Steve and I enjoyed dissecting each person's accent, while Kristin and Nina kept busy making sure nobody could hear us. Good times, great hospitality. We will be back.

Southern Breeze

Nashville, Tennessee. A city with live music playing in the airport, where cars yield to skateboards, and most of the women wear scarves just in case 90 degrees isn't hot enough. Sorry Sarah, but fashion in Colorado is determined by how many seasons of abuse one's boots can endure. Denver, Colorado. Eighteen degrees with 2 inches of fresh snow. That was the text message we received upon landing in music city to visit the Kilen girls. Great timing, I don't care who is wearing a scarf.

Sarah and Jenny, medical professional and medical student respectively, are sisters and very competitive in vying for the Favorite Nashville Cousin Award. From the get go, neither giddy sister was giving an inch as they both arrived at the airport to greet the little turkeys. It didn't occur to me that Jenny had not met the boys as she stood in the middle of a taxi lane with her face burried in a carseat. Southern hospitality soon took over, and both proud cousins showed off their stomping grounds to the fellas. Kristin and all her cousins have maintained a close bond over the years, and I think she enjoyed seeing that continue, even though she is the oldest and now has kids. Just like always, they laughed at things that weren't very funny only this time they had kids to poke at and play with.

We all stayed at Sarah's cozy apartment, and Jenny would eventually counter that move by introducing us to Nashville's finest fried chicken. I love it.... going right for Finley's heart. And I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Russ managed to sneak Finn a chicken leg when nobody was looking. You read that correctly, Grandma Cyndi's homing beacon alerted her that the boys had crossed the Mississippi and were within a days drive. Sure enough, within a day or two her and Russ had arrived. A pleasant surprise and one that will get its accolades after the Alabama review.

Both Eliot and Finn were glad to have finally met Jenny, and to again have the chance to flirt with Sarah. Eliot, however, was smart enough not to flirt with family, and gave a wink to the animated and welcoming roommate Ellie. Kristin and I had a great time and were impressed you could both make time considering your busy round-the-clock schedule. We showed our gratitude by stealing Jenny's car.

Nashville was great, but we still needed to pester my oldest brother Chris and his family. So we packed up and drove on, trying to enjoy bad coffee, bad drivers, but beautiful scenery. Somewhere near the Georgia/Alabama border I caught a waft of what I thought was the 'southern breeze' that Mr. Cash so eloquently sang about. It turned out to be one of the boys jumping at the brief chance to poop in his 7th state in 6 months. Paternal pride struck again. I was proud, he was prouder, and he sang about it for the next 25 miles. On to the deep south, where the southern reaches of the Connors family wait to play host with catfish and a developing drawl.

In the works: "Alabama Attitude"

Written but not posted: Grandma Kathy to the Rescue. Will be posted once Grandma calls via web-cam.