Anniversary

Yesterday was the eight year anniversary of Robert and I dating. To celebrate, we decided to take a trip down to Athens to visit my alma mater and introduce Jack to UGA. Every time we go to Athens it is a trip down memory lane. We had so many great times there, and each time we visit we have specific places we like to visit so we can reminisce. Suffice it to say this trip was a huge learning experience about the differences in travel once you have a baby.

The plan: Spend Saturday enjoying our favorite stores and eateries downtown, and stroll through the campus like old times. Get up Sunday and visit the Botanical Gardens before heading back home.

The reality: Take a whirlwind tour of campus due in part to the fact that it is REALLY FREAKING hot and muggy and we are REALLLY out of shape, and also because baby is sick and tired of being cooped up in a carseat/stroller all day and is letting us know it. Eat lunch downtown and visit our favorite store before realizing that Jack is really not feeling this whole stroller/outdoor/heat thing and is probably going to have a meltdown soon. Decide to head back to hotel, which now feels like miles away since we were crazy enough to think we could walk all the way across campus to downtown with Jack. Get good picture of Jack and I in front of Sanford Stadium - the whole trip was worth it just to show him the campus and share Athens with him, even if it was only for a little while. After getting back to the hotel proceed to deal with several fits from Jack, culminating in his refusal to go to sleep until about midnight (two hours past his bedtime). We had intended to go back out after letting him rest for a while, but it just didn't happen. We wound up watching Evan Almighty on tv and ordering in from Gumby's (which was still awesome because their pizza rolls are the best!). After going to bed at 12 Jack woke up at 5:30 to eat and would not go back to sleep. He stayed awake until we checked out the hotel at 11, and I knew that as soon as we got in the car he was going to pass out. So the Botanical Gardens were nixed in favor of a driving tour of Athens before heading back home. He slept the entire ride home and as I am writing this is taking another hour nap.

Overall the trip went well for our first I suppose. It is definitely a different (and somewhat difficult!) experience traveling with Jack, but it was so much fun to share a new town with him and include him in a place that means so much to Robert and I. The past eight years with Robert have been wonderful, and it was fun to look back over how we have changed and grown as individuals and in our relationship. Jack's presence in our lives has certainly changed how we function -our day to day routine will never be the same! - but sharing our world with him makes each experience totally new and different, and I can't wait to see what each new year will hold.

I'm tired of thinking of titles for these posts. I think that is half the battle in getting me to write one - trying to think up that snazzy one liner to convince my one reader that yes, reading this post might actually be worth her time. Things around here have been in CRAZY mode lately. I wrapped up my first summer semester of school last week and start back tonight. The amount of writing I did for my two classes over the last seven weeks was absolutely insane, so I'm going to blame my lack of posting on that. But it really has more to do with the fact that Jack becomes increasingly more active and attention demanding every day.

When he was born and I was trying to keep up with school work I would dream of the days that he was just a little bit older, when he would go longer between feedings, allowing me more time to sit down and focus on school work between meals. Yeah....Didn't really think about the fact that as he got older he would be, you know, MOBILE. And AWAKE. He cannot stand to sit in his swing anymore, as it restricts his ability to flail all his limbs around in an attempt to kick or grab everything in site. This is not particularly a problem for me, as I am happy to lay him on his playmat or on a blanket on the floor to explore his world. The problem lies in the fact that the only thing he wants to do when he lays down is roll over. Which is wonderful. Do not get me wrong, I am so happy he can roll over and that I can mark that off the developmental list that we all know I keep in my head. I just wish he would learn how to roll back onto his back when he is done. Because right now his favorite thing to do is roll onto his stomach, look around with interest for about 60 seconds, then proceed to flail around and bang his head on the floor screaming until I roll him back over. For some reason this flailing also results in a runny nose, so usually when I roll him back over he has snot all over his face. Which is lovely. As soon as I roll him over he looks at me, laughs, and rolls back onto his stomach again so that we can start the whole process over. It wouldn't drive me nearly as crazy if he didn't laugh every time I helped him, like "Haha, the joke's on you woman".

As I posted the above he was sleeping, and now he is awake, ready to go full force, and it has taken me ten minutes to finish this sentence, as I have already rolled him back over ninety times. Seriously. So I'm wrapping this up. But Robert and I are working on something really special that will hopefully be posted by the end of the week. I'm typing that now to force myself to have a deadline. Okay, snot-face is forcing me to end this post for real now. Check back soon for exciting updates!

What's in a name

Ever since I was a very young man, probably around 7 or 8, I have thought about what I would call my kids. Interestingly enough, I've always known on some level that I would have a boy first, so I thought about a boy's name more than a girl's. I remember being in the car with my mom and my sister and blurting out, "I know what I'm going to name my first boy!" To which my obviously confused and curious mother replied, "Really? What?" "Templeton Peck," I responded triumphantly. In retrospect, the character name for pretty boy A-Team member, Face, isn't exactly the most suitable name for a child of mine (Mad Dog Murdock is more in the right arena), but at that moment in time, it seemed so perfect. Needless to say, that name lost its flair and was left behind for a slew of other equally inappropriate yet intriguingly unique names, ranging from Ferdinand Allen to Treat and even the ever infamous Robert Flash Gordon. Thankfully, I married a woman assertive enough to deny me all these variances and yet still be loving enough not to trounce upon my eclectic sense of humor and creativity.

As I grew, gaining minimal levels of maturity through the years, I began thinking of my own name, Robert Austin Gordon. I was named after my mother's two brothers, Robert - an astoundingly magnificent musician, and Austin - an incredibly intelligent yet remarkably goofy and fun loving guy. I'm not really sure if I can claim to take after either of my namesakes, but rather a dim reflection of the two. Since both my first and middle name were already used within the family, a nickname was prescribed - Robin, a combination of the first syllable of Robert and the last syllable of Austin. Through the years, a young boy realizes rather abruptly that he is being called by a girl's name. So, as I moved into kindergarten, I informed everyone that I would be Robert from now on. It didn't stick. I was, at the time, rocking a very cool spike hairdo, similar to what many lesbians roll with now (I'm a trendsetter, what can I say?). So, I garnered the nickname of Spike. When I changed schools in the 4^th grade, I was nicknamed Gordo, a play off my last name and the fact that I was a rather chunky little man – “gordo” means fat in Spanish, for all you non-multilingual readers. When I moved schools again in the 7^th grade, I was bombarded with a series of nicknames like G. Gordon Liddy, Gordon Lightfoot, and Gordon Shumway. When I changed schools yet again in 10^th grade, I was awarded the nickname Bob – I didn’t hang out with an incredibly creative group of people at that time. And finally, my longest lasting nickname was received when I moved to my final school in 11^th grade and was endowed with the “Flash Gordon” legacy, a nickname I share with my father. This nickname is how the majority of my friends still refer to me, and how most people introduce me. There have been many other nicknames, most of which need not be noted.

When Steph and I found out we were pregnant, all these thoughts of names came back to me. I remembered all the names I had previously thought up and how much everyone hated them. I had to think of something original but not retarded that still had meaning to it, a name like Pencil Firefighter Gordon would be considered TOO original and therefore much too retarded and completely without meaning. It was at that point that I thought about my own name again. Family names hold a lot of meaning, but aren’t really original, since they are, in fact, copies of someone else’s names. It bothered me that I couldn’t think of anything truly original, but I did love the idea of family names. It was at that moment I had a great epiphany. Steph and I could use all the family names we had thought up, which are 5 in total (6 if you count Matt-Michael Anderson Gordon), and then just give our unborn son some totally original nickname! It was brilliant, or so we thought.

See, the problem with nicknaming a newborn child is they don’t seem to have too much of a personality to work with. There was the obvious monkey nickname since I’m obsessed with monkeys and the entire nursery is covered in primates, but since we already have a Monkey Daniel in our group, it loses its originality. There was Dad’s contribution, Jumpin’ Jack Flash, which is still a personal favorite. Then we thought about naming him Popeye because he always had one eye closed, but that only lasted for about a week. There were countless nicknames that popped up every time he did something new, One Shoe Jack, Poopers, Jackers, all which had brief stints in use and then were quickly discarded. This process became increasingly frustrating to me. I really wanted him to have a truly unique nickname.

On Father’s Day, it hit me. None of his previous nicknames worked for me because they only emphasized one aspect or ability he had. None of his nicknames seemed to truly capture who he is. And I was completely okay with that because there is no nickname that will properly identify him in my eyes. It’s weird too, because the only name that really connects me to him, the one word that best emphasizes all of him is also the most generic. The best name for him is son. That one name, the most unoriginal, is also the one that holds the most meaning to me. It’s perfectly simple for such a complex purpose, three little letters that encompass the entire emotional range between a father and his boy, three letters that encompass what an entire language fail to do. I love my son.

Happy Father's Day

In a couple weeks Robert and I will celebrate 8 years of being together. I love remembering that first summer - it seemed like the perfect temperature all the time, the days and nights would drag on forever, offering us seemingly endless hours to talk about everything imaginable.

One particularly vivid conversation in my memory was one we had about a month after we started officially "dating". I had just met Robert's dad's family for the first time and we were in my driveway, talking in the car as was typical when he dropped me off. We had been talking for a while when Robert told me that he had had a dream about our children. I was taken aback for a minute, because at this point we had not even said "I love you" to each other. He went on to tell me that in the dream he was sitting in a chair and 4 children came running up around him - the oldest was a little boy, then two little girls, and the baby was a boy as well. He said that they all had light red hair, fair skin (no surprises there), and they were all smiling and laughing with him. I can honestly say this was one of those moments when I knew he was the one for me - because I could picture those children too, and even though we had only dated for a month, I knew the love we both felt for them and for each other.

When we started dating we were almost nineteen, and I thank my nineteen year old self every day for being smart enough to see what I had in Robert. A few more indications that he was a good man: he was always open and affectionate with his mom and sister and was never embarrassed to say I Love You in front of his friends or anything (for that matter he says I Love You to his friends too). He is also the most giving person I have ever met. If one of our friends or family needs help it doesn't matter what else he has going on, he will find a way to help them out and he never complains about it. And I love watching him with kids. He is one of the few adults I know who has managed to hold on to some of his imagination, and he can interact with children on a level that few adults know how. Sometimes he does things with Jack that I think scientifically Jack should not be able to process yet, and he can get responses out of Jack that I never would have imagined. He is a constant reminder that our achievement is only limited by our belief in ourself.

This time last year, we had just found out we were pregnant. It was one of the most exciting and scariest times of my life, and as I tiptoed through the next nine months he was the anchor that kept me from getting swept away into the ocean of fear I felt at the time. He was a better pregnancy partner than I could have asked for, always understanding what I needed before I even had to ask, and offering me strength in all the times I started to falter. I never would have made it through the natural delivery without his encouragement and his belief in me. And now when I see him with our son, sharing all of his love and his knowledge, I know without any doubt that Jack will be a great man. He will be a great man because he will learn from his father, and I feel so blessed to witness it all and share the love of this family.

Happy Father's Day Robert. We love you!

The face of success

Apparently this is the concentration face
Jack rolled over for the first time a couple days ago. I was sitting beside him on the floor, working on a paper for school, and the next thing I knew his head was practically laying in my lap and he was on his tummy. I immediately took a picture with the camera on my phone and texted it to Robert - what would we do without technology?! Yesterday I decided to lay him in the floor to get some updated pics (you know, because it had been like THREE days since I took pictures of him!) and before I could even get my camera out he was on his tummy. I think my favorite part about this new phase is the face that accompanies it (see above). Everytime he rolls over he makes that face, which is perfect because our friend made up a story about him being "Gummy the Baby Prospector" before he was even born, and now we have the face to go with the story. This picture makes me envision him in an old timer mining outfit, ready to set out and find some gold. There are more pics on Flickr that detail the entire rolling over process - even Sandy made it in, providing motivation in the form of licking his face until he rolled over to get away from her. Just kidding people. I only let the dog lick his face for like, five seconds at a time, max....