Lunch with Andy

A video today shot at lunchtime. The Kid was enjoying some carrots and chicken, giving her the opportunity to try out that new tooth.

So, about the music. I like Andy Williams. You got a problem with that? Didn't think so. The Kid likes him too. That song, anyway. It's the first song she ever heard.

The Kid was born at 6:35 pm. By about 11:30 that night, all the initial commotion had tapered off, and the Wife, Kid, and I were alone in the hospital room. There were concerns from the medical personnel regarding The Kid's slightly low body temperature, so some skin-on-skin tummy time with mom was the suggested remedy. As the two most beautiful ladies in the world stared at each other, we turned on the TV. It happened to be tuned to Turner Classic Movies, and wouldn't you know it, there's Audrey Hepburn sitting in a window singing "Moon River."

Brought tears to my eyes, it did. A lot of stuff that day did that.

Worst. Commute. Ever.

I’ve been a Washington, DC commuter for about 15 years now, and I have never, ever, never had a commute home as bad as last night. That includes 9/11.

I’m normally home by 5:15 every day, but I walked in the door last night just before the little had got to the 8. Let’s see, I left the office at 4, and got home at 8. For those of you who didn’t major in the maths, that’s about 4 hours. 45 minutes on the train (normal), followed by 3 hours 15 minutes driving the remaining 22.3 miles. Since math isn’t my strong suit either, I’ll leave it to you to figure out my average speed. Back of the envelope guesstimates put it at somewhere around 0.

Let us further compound the situation by adding that the Wife was also in traffic at last an hour behind me. Where was the Kid, you ask? Daycare, I reply. I’m driving the MINI, and the Wife is in the grown-up’s car. Have I mentioned that there is no car seat in the MINI? I have. Decision time: Do I go home and get the other car seat and somehow jam it into the MINI with a crowbar and some Vaseline, or does the Kid wait at daycare for mommy to arrive? We decided on option 1. Lo and behold, the car seat does fit in the MINI, although it’s not a configuration that makes anyone happy. At least she’ll be safe, and that’s the important thing.

I got the Kid, and apologized profusely to her wonderful and gracious care-giver. I was not the only one late last night. Not by a long shot. We got home about an hour past her usual bedtime, so it was into the PJs and into bed with her. No time for the usual rituals, but she didn’t seem to mind. Not like her dad, who apparently expects order in all things.

After she was dressed and bundled up for bed, I picked her up to go into the crib. She put her arms around my neck, laid her head on my shoulder, and closed her eyes. It took everything in me to put her down and let go.

Guest Appearance

The Kid is making a guest appearance over at the Stutts' place alongside the always adorable Julianna. 'Twas an absolute overload of cute.

Sad News

I was a bit saddened to read this headline today:
Former ABC News reporter McWethy dies in ski accident

I never met John McWethy, but my father did. Back in late 1981, a Soviet Whiskey-class submarine ran aground in Sweden. I'll spare you the details of the incident, since they're available here thanks to the wonder of the intartubes.

While covering the story, ABC News' Nightline producers wanted to do a piece on how the U.S. Navy hunted Russian subs. They called the Pentagon, who promptly dispatched a P-3 to Andrews AFB to pick up McWethy and a camera crew to show them how we did (do) it.

My dad was the pilot of that P-3. The show aired late that night, and we all stayed up late to watch. As an 11 year-old boy, seeing my dad actually fly was one of the coolest things I ever. Sure, I'd been to the base and the hangar where he worked, but never got to see him actually do his job until that point. It's hard to have a "take your kid to work day" when your office is at 200 feet over the North Atlantic.

We couldn't record it, since VCRs were running about $1000 a pop back then (about $2500 in today's dollars). A bit more than a luxury when you consider there were only 4 channels' worth or programming to record.

It wasn't until I was looking for a retirement present for my father in 1991 that I thought to order a tape from ABC's archives. Dad is in now the process of converting some old video tapes to digital format, so maybe one day soon I'll post a clip from the show. Funny to think that when that was filmed in 1981, my father was the same age I am now.

Unsung Heros

It's that time again. Time for my "one weekend a month". Doesn't seem like much, but it can be sometimes.

Now, I'm not exactly out there saving the world on weekends like this. I'm not handling deadly weapons, and aside from the drive in, no one is in any danger from any mistake I make.

It does, however, require me to be at least semi-alert, and as an officer, I have to set an example. Punctuality counts in this business. So does attitude.

Punctuality and alertness are sometimes hard when you have a 9 month old in the house. Even harder when she's teething. Especially when she's teething.

Throughout Saturday night, the Kid woke up either twice or thrice. My memory is a tad fuzzy. Knowing that Sunday was another work day for me, my beloved bride got up each time, did that mom voodoo that she does to calm the Kid.

Not once did she (or has she) given me the "you know, you can help too" look. Trust me, I know that look. Been getting it since before the baby, and has always been deserved.

To paraphrase an immortal question:

"Where do we get such women?"

First Pizza

The Kid got in touch with her Sicilian heritage on Saturday, by gumming her first little bit of pizza crust. My parents came up to see us this weekend, and a good time was had by all. Having lived in Naples for a bit as a kid, I can still remember the taste of the pizza there. This stuff was pretty close.

CSI: Annapolis

So, It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry 'bout that. Work has been as more hectic than ever, so between that, the kid, and all of the things that are required to make it through life, something had to give.

Anyway, on Thursday last, I was minding my own business when my cell phone rang during my afternoon commute. I was getting to a really good part in the book I am reading, so I let it go to voicemail.

I listened to the message as soon as I got off the train, and it went something like this:

"Hi sweetie, it's me. We're in the emergency room..."

Did your heart skip a beat there? Mine did.

"... everything's OK. Mrs. Adeodatus cut her hand pretty good on a champagne bottle, so we're getting it stitched." Apparently, the Wife had a rough day, and Mrs. Adeodatus thought a glass of sparkling wine would make things a bit better. Opening the bottle proved a bit more troublesome than they'd hoped, and the resulting attempt to open it by tapping it lightly on the concrete patio resulted in a rather explosive release of the potable from its container. Since Adeodatus hisself was in class that evening, it was up to the Wife to get her to the ER. Certainly made the day more memorable...

I called her back and confirmed the logistics of picking up the Kid from daycare (the carseat doesn't exactly fit in the MINI), and returned home to the crime scene.

Blood spatter analysis confirmed the story. No foul play. Evidence follows:

After the stitches and a tetanus shot (ow!), all was back where it should be, and the three of us finally got to the drinks we'd been waiting for. Some pasta for dinner accompanied by a gin & tonic was just the thing we needed.