NOTICE TO ANYONE WHO GETS HERE VIA AN OLD LINK: The Alex Blog has a new home, and a new name. You can go there by clicking here.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Poor Boo-Boo.

Today, ten weeks old, Alex had her "two month" check-up at the pediatrician's. They changed the oil, put in a new oil filter, and topped off her fluids.

If only it had been so easy.

Actually, she got several shots, including the dreaded dip-tet, and Jane reports that she was generally "sad" today as a result.

Today's vital statistics: Eight pounds, 11.4 ounces (4th percentile); 22 inches long (50th percentile); 15-inch head circumference (25th percentile). In the words of her doctor (as to her weight percentile): "Great! She's made it to the chart!" Now, of course, these are percentiles based on her actual age, and not her age, adjusted for her five weeks' prematurity. If you adjusted her for her prematurity to five weeks old (basically a month old), which is what she'd be if she had been a full-term baby, and the way you're supposed to read these charts, she'd be right around the 50th percentile for weight, 75th percentile for height, and 75th percentile for head circumference. Since it's not age-dependent, her weight-for-length percentile would be about the 4th percentile in either scenario.

So she's slightly underweight, but beyond that she got a great bill of health today. Dr. Goodwrench says she's good for another 10,000 miles before the next oil change.

-- Greg

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

A short post with a couple of updates.

Last night, our friend -- and the Dean of the Indiana University School of Law -- Lauren Robel, was our overnight guest. She was never interested in coming out to the house until a certain Wee Denizen showed up. Then she basically invited herself. (I'm vamping, but only a little.) So we had a nice dinner (Jane made Osso Buco with orzo) and some wine, and a baby was held -- at length. Pictures later, when the webmistress dumps the contents of her camera.

Today was an interesting day, too. My day started out well and got better -- at 10:00 a.m. today, the U.S. Supreme Court granted a certiorari petition that Vicky Dorfman and I prepared and filed. The case will be argued January 8, 9, or 10 of next year.

This afternoon, I escorted Judge Jianli Song of the China Supreme Court and his wife, Bing (from our Beijing office) to meet Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg of the U.S. Supreme Court. I got a backstage tour of the Supreme Court with Judge and Mrs. Song. When Jianli sends me the photos by e-mail, we'll post one of us with the Justice.

All that sounds like name-dropping. So what? The best part of my day came at 6:00 tonight, when Jane -- because she had a RESOLVE board meeting tonight -- dropped Alex off at my office. We had "Take Your Daughter To Work Night." We went to see some people around the office (Ms. Melissa, Mr. Gurdak, Ms. Jennifer, Ms. Donovan, and Mr. Kolis -- among others), we had a new diaper, we had a bottle, we had a big burp, and we had a nap on Dad's shoulder (while Dad edited a brief). Then we loaded up the stroller, walked to the parking garage, drove home, and Dad ate a few bites of dinner while standing at the kitchen counter with Alex on the counter in the Baby Papasan. Alex was smiling and giggling with me while I had dinner.

One of the best days ever.

-- Greg

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Tonight's theme: How to patronize the arts when you have a baby.

Before Alex showed up, Jane and I used to go to movies, oh, maybe once a week on average. Some Saturdays, if there were a couple of movies out that we wanted to see, we'd take in a double feature.

I think the last time we saw a movie was three months ago. Until yesterday, when Jane and I decided we'd chance it with Wee One in tow. We learned several lessons this way.

First lesson: Leave earlier. (Lesson learned the hard way, as I broke several land-speed records getting from the house to Tysons Corner to make it in time.)

Second lesson: Go to an early-morning movie, so if there's a baby meltdown, there are only a few people who will be bothered. (Lesson learned the easy way, as we did just that, and Alex was her usual perfect little self.) Corollaries of the second lesson include picking seats on an aisle, near the exit; choosing a movie toward the end of its run so it's not likely to be highly populated (we picked a 10:30 a.m. showing of Hollywoodland, which we both recommend); and make sure you've got enough formula.

Speaking of formula, you know how we've observed Alex getting a bit more fussy? Today, we think we may have figured it out. Starkly put, we were starving her. It seems that when she takes three and a half ounces of a four ounce bottle and then refuses any more, that only means that she's not interested in more at that precise moment. She might be interested in, say, another three and a half ounces in about 30 minutes. We learned that this morning when she took a total of eight ounces of formula (two full ones of her present bottles) between 7:00 and 9:00 a.m. So we've graduated her, as of today, to the eight-ounce bottles (though we're only making her six ounces at a time). Some of this baby thing is just trial and error, I'm afraid. Sorry for starving you, kiddo.

But back to patronizing the arts. Tonight marks a red-letter day on Alex's calendar, because Mom and Dad had a date with the National Symphony Orchestra. It was the season-opening ball concert, an all-Tchaikovsky program, and Alex stayed home -- for the first time -- with a non-family-member, non-friend babysitter, Ms. Mercedes. It broke our hearts just a bit to leave her behind, but once we got out, Mom and Dad had a good time. A couple of highlights of the program -- a special performance from Bloomington, Indiana's own Joshua Bell (though I confess that I have mixed feelings about the source of his "style" and his "celebrity"), and a pretty astounding indoor version of the 1812 Overture, with fireworks. No fooling.

Still, even though Mom and Dad had a nice date night (including dinner at our favorite pre-Kennedy Center place, Marcel's, which whisks us to the Kennedy Center and back via limousine as part of the price of our dinner), we couldn't wait to get home to Boo-Boo.

-- Greg

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Yesterday (Friday) I made a trip to New York just for the day, mostly to give a CLE (continuing legal education) program on an upcoming Supreme Court case. When I left the New York office, to get in my car to LaGuardia, I was greeted by at least a dozen federal agents, several of them with semiautomatic assault rifles.

I knew this day was coming.

But my day will have to wait, because they weren't there to take me out like they took out another Indiana native, John Dillinger. (Random Dillinger fact: He was from the adjoining county in Indiana where my mother and her family were from, and Dillinger was killed the day before my mother was born.) No, they were there in advance of a motorcade that, shortly thereafter, rolled up to the door of 222 East 41st Street. After the perimeter was secured, the first vehicle opened, and out popped --

Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. And her entourage.

Then I remembered: Our building is owned by the United Nations Pension Fund, and the top few floors of our building in New York are occupied by the United Nations.

This whole to-do caused me some difficulty getting home, because my Dial Car couldn't get to the building. My partner Chris Kelly was also trying to get home (also via LaGuardia) to Cleveland, but his car was nowhere to be found. So I just told him to hitch a ride with me, and we dropped him off at the Continental Airlines terminal. Even though both of our flights left at 4 p.m., Chris was in for a bigger delay if he missed his flight, but the US Airways shuttle to DC runs every hour, so he went first. As it turned out, I also got to the terminal in plenty of time, but I decided to take the 5 p.m. shuttle anyway, as it had a better seat selection. (Another DC political "celebrity" was on that flight -- Terry McAuliffe, the former DNC chair.) It's really pretty amazing when you think about it -- I left New York at 5 p.m., and was pulling into my driveway in Oakton, Virginia, over 400 miles away, before 7 p.m.

What did Jane make for dinner? Reservations. We took Wee One and headed out to Artie's, as both of us were in the mood for a steak. Wee One was great, and all the ladies (and a few of the men) billed and cooed over her while we were waiting to be seated. But on the way home, Alex started really wailing, and she wouldn't stop for quite a while. Not a diaper change. Not a bottle. Not rocking. Not dancing. Nothing would placate her, and it seemed like it was snowballing out of control. Fortunately, Jane has an easy touch with her, and got her to calm down, to finish her bottle, and finally to bed, swaddled in the Miracle Blanket. She's in her bassinet now, occasionally chirping.

At one point after she had fallen asleep in Jane's arms, she let out a loud laugh. Not a little giggle. No, a real gut-busting laugh. A long guffaw.

I can't wait until she can do that when she's awake. Not that we aren't having fun now, but I know she and I are going to have some real fun then.

-- Greg

Friday, September 22, 2006

Pictures!

Alex knocking over her blocks:

"Photo op" in the sunshine:

Face plant:

Funny look:

Shy:

Talking to mom, then giving her a kiss:

Heading out for a walk:

-- Jane

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Boo-boo is two.

(Months old, that is.)

Time sure flies, doesn't it?

Anyway, as you can see, we've recently broken from our at-least-one-post-a-day routine. Part of that is attributable to the fact that we've settled into more of a routine here, and part of it is due to the fact that I -- your stalwart, if technologically challenged correspondent -- actually do hold a real day job. And that job, being a lawyer in Washington, DC (and occasionally elsewhere), can often be the epitome of Professor (and U.S. Supreme Court Justice) Joseph Story's aphorism from The Value and Importance of Legal Studies (1829), "[The Law] is a jealous mistress, and requires a long and constant courtship. It is not to be won by trifling favors, but by lavish homage."

Justice Story plainly had no infant children at the time. Had he had an infant, he surely would have said something along these lines: "The Law is a fussy baby, and requires frequent walks and rocking. It is not to be placated by mere bottles and pacifiers, but by constant attention."

And as much attention as The Law has been requiring of me in recent days, The Alex has been demanding even more from her mother. ("Law Like Love," wrote Auden.) And from me. Take, for example, this morning. I had to be in the office before 10:00 for a meeting. And I was showered and ready to head out the door by 8:30. Jane needed to get a shower, but luckily had just given Wee One a bottle and put her down to sleep in her bassinet. Just as I was tiptoeing out of the bedroom to head to the car, Alex woke up, just bawling. Now, at some point, I will have a hardened little Daddy heart, and I will let her cry. But she's two months old, for crying out loud.

(Sorry. That was unintended, but I figured I'd leave it.)

So I picked her up and rocked and danced her into a state of relative calmness. We then walked into the master bathroom, and we opened the door to the shower so that Alex could see that her Mom was right there. (I might have gotten a little benefit from the view as well.)

I then placed my placated little girl in the Baby Papasan, facing the shower door, and ran like hell for the car.

Jane reports that the rest of the day was pretty much like that. When I called to tell her I was on my way home, I asked -- as I always do now -- "What kind of a day has it been?" Jane responded, "Good. But high-maintenance."

That's described the evening, too. But now, at almost 10:30, Boo-Boo is asleep, face down (with her hands beside her face) on Jane's chest.

Happy birthday, baby.

-- Greg

Sunday, September 17, 2006

As promised, we have some photos from the Gladney Family Association (National Capital Area Auxillary) picnic.

But first, a little story on how we got there. As mentioned, Jane was going to a shower out in Reston for Margaret and her new daughter Nora, who was also adopted -- about a week after we adopted Alex (or vice-versa, since it seems like Alex adopted us just as much as we adopted her). So it was Dad/daughter day here, and it was our responsibility to get to the picnic on our own by 3 p.m. -- Mom would meet us there later, after she left the shower.

I'm striving not to be "helpless Dad," but there was an added challenge involved here. This was the first time I had put the car seat in my car. Now, if you don't know this, I drive a convertible. And convertibles are notorious for having small back seats. That was Challenge One. Challenge Two was the fact that the car seat base mounts in an entirely different way than in Jane's Ford Explorer -- in her car, all you do is strap the seat belt really tightly through the base. In my car, there are these metal loops hidden behind the back-seat upholstery on which the clamps on the car seat base fasten.

The operative word here is "hidden." Hidden, that is, if you don't read the instruction manual to your car. Which I didn't. I am, after all, a man. We don't read instruction manuals, and we don't ask for directions. It's in the Man Code. (Not, of course, that I've ever actually read it. I'm a man.) So I was trying to figure out how these weird seat belts in the back seat of my car could possibly hold the car seat down. (Turns out they can't.) Meanwhile, my almost-two-month-old charge is sitting in her car seat on the floor of the garage, while sweat rolls down my face on this close-to-90-degree day, and after a few minutes of my fussing over this car seat, Alex herself began fussing. So I (finally) grabbed the instruction manual to my car from the glove box, and whisked Alex back inside to the air conditioning while I grabbed a paper towel to sop my brow. Eventually I cracked the manual, and found out that there are these secret metal loops. After I sussed that out, installation was a relative breeze.

The only other mistake I made was trying to buckle her into the car seat after I had already snapped it into the back of my car, instead of before. That was a pain.

Now that the car seat base is firmly planted in the back seat of my car, I can't wait for a slightly cooler day so I can take Alex on her first top-down convertible ride.

So off we went to the Gladney picnic, which was located at Westwood Country Club, a club that is fairly close to our house (about 15 minutes away). My family didn't belong to country clubs growing up, and I don't now, so every time I go to an event at a country club, I get the giggles. This is why.

Also, "Westwood" sounds a lot like Bushwood.

Anyway, you want pictures -- you got pictures!

At today's picnic, we were joined by fellow Gladney parents Christy and Greg Nanna -- and, at long last, Alex got to meet Nicholas. And vice-versa. Here's Christy, holding Nicholas (who is nine months old today -- and 23 lbs!), who is intent on holding hands with Alex, who is on Jane's lap.

Here's me, holding Alex and Nicholas. Alex is completely ignoring Nicholas, but he is not to be deterred -- please note that he's already got a hand on her knee.

Here's Greg Nanna with Nicholas, and Jane with Alex.

A great photo of two very happy moms and their very happy babies.

And finally, Nicholas introducing himself to Alex with both hands.

Yesterday morning, by the way, Alex was being a little fussy, so I took her for a walk to the curb so that we could wheel our garbage can (actually a mini-dumpster) back up to the garage. When I got down to the street, one of our neighbors, Lynn, who had not yet met Alex, was driving by to head to the gym. She stopped her car in the middle of the street, jumped out, and almost reflexively put her arms out . I let her hold Alex, and we talked for about 25 minutes while several other neighbors also stopped by to see her on their way out of the subdivision. As Lynn said, "If you were single, she would be a babe magnet."

Yeah, sort of. I experienced that in the Dallas airport last week, but -- as my friend George Fischer recently wrote me to say -- it's obvious the "babes" weren't looking at me. But ladies, we're a package deal -- and the package is already the lifetime property of a slim blonde who lives up the hill.

-- Greg

Daddy had too much work piled up behind him, so yesterday, he exiled himself to his office in the city while Mom and Alex went to the Kennedy Center.

One of the highlights of the Kennedy Center -- from Jane's vantagepoint, anyway -- was the National Symphony Orchestra's musical instrument "petting zoo." This was an idea of insane, inspired genius. It allowed kids of all ages (including the thirtysomething kid I'm married to) to feel and hold the musical instruments that the NSO plays with. Herewith, some pictures:

That's (L to R) Alex, a violin, and Jane; a bass and Alex; a bass bow in Alex's stroller; and everything but Alex (she's in the picture, but obscured by the stroller handle).

Here (L to R), Alex (who is sometimes herself an instrument of wind) with wind instruments: she is particularly interested in a French horn; Alex saying to herself, "Oh boy! An oboe!"; and trapped in her stroller by a trombone.

Finally (L to R), Alex seems uninterested in a tuba; she looks like she's ready to play the bass; and finally, mesmerized by the camera.

Still, from the reports, it sounds like Alex was most interested in the enormous ceilings and the light fixtures at the Kennedy Center.

Today, Jane is off to a shower for Margaret and Nora, while Alex and I go to the Gladney picnic (Mom will meet up with us there later). Lots of babies and kids there, and probably more photo ops, too.

-- Greg

Saturday, September 16, 2006

More photos!

From our "playdate" with Lisa Reichmann and her twins, Alex and Arielle. The fact that all 3 were asleep at the same time is nothing short of miraculous.

Speaking of miracles, Alex has a new love -- her swing, a present from our Dallas friends Laurie and Joe Lang (parents of Luke and Jacob, who are among the cutest and best behaved kids ever). Usually, Alex does not like to be left to her own devices when, say, Mommy needs to take a shower. But with the magic swing, Mom can not only get a shower, but blow dry her hair AND put on makeup. Between the magic swing and the miracle blanket, I manage to look presentable most days.

A few cute photos with Dad -- she laughs in her sleep, we are assuming she is laughing with us and not at us. She is a great snuggler, although sometimes she decides to sleep in strange positions (see picture #3 below). When it comes to sleeping, whatever works is OK with us.

Finally, a few pictures from her first bubble bath in the big tub. Despite her initial skepticism, she ended up having a great time -- she espeically liked the whirlpool jets and eating the bubbles.

Enjoy!

-- Jane

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Wee One is sleeping so well that she was still asleep when I left for work today.

This was actually worse than being out of town and not seeing her at all. I was sorely tempted to wake her up just to play a little bit before I headed in to the office, but my selfless Daddy side got the better of the selfish one.

She's just. a little plaything./Why not? wake her up?

Tonight, the three of us took our friend Chris Van Natta out to dinner, in our continuing effort to assure his wife, Colleen, that he is being fed and watered for the few days they are apart.

Jane and Alex had a playdate at Lisa Reichmann's house, along with Lisa's twins Alex (what a good name for a boy!) and Arielle. Jane says pictures will be forthcoming. Boo-Boo is feeling a lot better -- there hasn't been a single baby cough out of her this evening.

And other than that, I've got nothing. Other than a beautiful wife/mother of my child, and a swaddled, sleeping daughter.

Good night, and good news.

-- Greg

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Stupid diaper jokes.

When we first got Alex, she wore "preemie" size Huggies. Now she wears Pampers Swaddlers. Now, the funny thing about disposable diapers is that the companies have licensed certain cartoon characters to place on the front of the diapers so that morons like me know which side goes in the front. Huggies have the Winnie the Pooh characters -- Winnie himself, Piglet, Eeyore, and so on. Pampers have the Mini-Muppets -- Baby Big Bird and Baby Cookie Monster (who are part of the "Sesame Beginnings" cast) on one version; Baby Ernie and Baby Bert on the other (proving just how longtime these companions have been together).

This is like shooting fish in a barrel. If fish were bad jokes. So when I'm changing her, I might say --

"Hey, this diaper already has Pooh on it!" (Winnie)

"On this one, the ass goes in the front." (Eeyore)

"Wow -- you were so wet, Big Bird was holding an umbrella!"

"Whoo-ee! After that one, Ernie was holding his nose."

"I think someone shot Bert."

"Cookie Monster died."

Anyway, enough of the witty baby repartee. The news from Lake Baby-gone is that Alex's cold is almost all better -- Jane reports that they had a great day today, including a playdate with Cindy and her son Brooks. Jane is presently singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" to Alex as she chirps her way to sleep. And they're off to another playdate tomorrow.

Cutest. Baby. Ever.

-- Greg

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Father-Daughter night at the Castanias house.

I've heard that in some other families, the dads aren't left alone (allowed to be left alone?) with their children for many years. That's not us. Tonight, Jane had a 7 p.m. RESOLVE board meeting at Kelly Maguire's house in Arlington, and so I agreed to leave the office a bit earlier than usual and meet her and Alex there for "baby handoff." While I was there, I got to spend some time with Kelly (a regular reader of whatever this thing is, be it a 'blog,' a 'journal,' or whatever), her husband Steve, and their 14-month-old Graeme. Shortly thereafter, Margaret and Joe arrived with their new daughter Nora (Margaret and Joe have been part of the same "adoption group" led by Mary Stern and including us, the Kortright/Fudges, and the Nannas, and Nora adopted them about the same time Alex adopted us). After a few stories, Joe and I were sent packing with our new daughters so that the ladies could get on with their "business."

(I know they do good and serious work at these meetings, but I also know that there was a portion of the meeting reserved for Jane and Margaret to tell our families' stories. Thus the quotation marks around "business.")

So how about a couple of stories from before we left that meeting? When I arrived, Jane was holding a bottle in Alex's mouth, and she (Alex) was inconsolable. Crying, red-faced, the whole works. So I said something like "Here, let Daddy take care of it," and I took her from Jane's arms. We walked, rocked, and danced a bit, which calmed her just a little, so I sat down, took the bottle from Jane, and gave it to Alex. She was still inconsolable, which almost never -- no, I can honestly say never before -- happened when she got a bottle. Then I looked down and saw that the clear nipple on the bottle was completely dry and empty. Turns out Jane had not removed the protective disk from the neck of the bottle, which made it little more than a tease for poor, hungry, starving little Alex. (Jane: "Are you hungry, little girl? Are you? Here's a full bottle of formula -- PSYCH!")

Steve, to his credit, had noticed this but stayed silent -- only after we removed the disk did he mention that "it seemed like she wasn't getting much formula out of the nipple." I, on the other hand, was not as silent; in fact, I think Jane was wishing that there was some sort of disk she could shove in my neck to keep stuff from coming out of my mouth.

But before Jane could worry about being thought of as a "bad mother," Kelly came to the rescue with a story of her own. She was at a 90th birthday party for her grandmother, and her mother had misplaced her keys. After a wholesale search of the house, no keys had turned up. Eventually, someone picked Graeme up, patted him on the diaper, and felt an unfamiliar lump. Turns out that an absent-minded new mom had diapered the keys into Graeme's outfit.

Kelly, as a regular reader of this thing, also made a request of me. She said it's time to re-name this something other than "Colorado 2006." We explained that we plan to do that, and, in fact, I even have a new name picked out. But that requires a new link, a new graphic, and that means that the webmaster has to do that. And I ain't the webmaster. So in due time. In due time.

Eventually, Alex and I got home. It was a fun night, just the two of us -- I got out the Maker's Mark, and poured us each a tall one in a Dr. Brown's bottle. When Jane got home, we were both passed out on the floor.

And if you believe that, you've already called Child Protective Services, and I've got some 'splainin' to do.

Actually, I had the rest of the leftover lasagna from Holly and Michael's Meals on Wheels visit, Alex had yet another four-ouncer (only two hours after her previous four-ouncer), and then, after a diaper change (Alex), we decamped to the floor for a little playtime, interspersed with my assembling Alex's Fisher-Price Aquarium Swing. Classic Dad duty. Once I got it together, it turned out to take four 'C' batteries -- and, mirabile dictu, we had exactly four 'C' batteries in the house. Once I got Alex in it, it appeared that she seemed to like it -- she'd do 15 minutes in the swing, then cry out to be held, which we'd do for about 15 minutes, followed by 15 more in the swing, and so on. This allowed me to finish editing a brief while standing up at our kitchen island.

All in all, a pretty good day.

-- Greg

Monday, September 11, 2006

Today, "September 11" means only one thing to me: Alex is 54 days old.

Right now, Alex is laying in our bed next to the laptop as I type, staring at the light coming from the screen and occasionally pulling the sheet over her face. She's still a bit congested, sneezing once or twice every 15 minutes (only once has she done three sneezes in a row, which is a Hutchinson (Jane's) family trademark).

So on Sunday, this article appeared in the New York Times. Headed out to buy a newsstand copy of Vanity Fair (because his subscription copy with Baby Suri had not yet arrived), the writer is suddenly overcome with guilt upon the realization that he might be "more interested in the baby of total strangers than all the new babies of my friends? Four mothers I adored had given birth in the past six months. I had not visited any of them." It was a pretty funny article overall, but it did not ring true to me.

Nonetheless, I did like being reminded of this Seinfeld line: “Is it possible people are having babies to get people to visit them?”

Well, it wasn't exactly our goal -- we've not lacked for visitors when it was just the two of us -- but it's been a nice by-product. Last night, we were joined at dinner here by our friend Chris Van Natta, who is a "relocation widower" for another week. (He's been living at their now-vacated house, with just a sleeping bag, until he leaves at the end of this week for Ohio.) So we were happy when Chris accepted our invitation to stay in one of our baby-free guest rooms. Colleen will be happy to know that Chris was fed a balanced meal and had a good night's sleep.

Before Chris came over, though, I took some cheesecake photos of my smokin' hot wife. And she may well post some of them in the days to come, too!

(Down, boys.)

Here's what I mean: Sunday afternoon, Jane decided that Alex's sinus congestion might be alleviated by a steamy Jacuzzi bath. So she got into the tub with Wee One, sudsed it up with Johnson's Baby Shampoo, and the two of them had a grand old time. Jane called me up to witness Alex's wonderment at this new experience, especially the Jacuzzi jets, and to take some photos -- with, of course, suds, arms, or baby strategically placed. You'll see the results -- all you'll need is a Visa card and proof that you're over 18 years of age.

Anyway.

A few more random notes: Jane has interspersed calling Alex "Boo-Boo" with also occasionally calling her "Doodle." I asked why. "Because sometimes, she just looks like a 'Doodle.'" Ask a stupid question . . . .

Today we got a package from Peggy -- a State of Texas charm for Alex's charm bracelet, a teeny TCU t-shirt, and a purple-and-white pom-pom. Plus, instructions on their proper use (wear every Saturday; cheer for the Horned Frogs; enroll at TCU at age 18 as a Chancellor's Scholar).

Yes, ma'am.

-- Greg

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Photos! Both Alex and Greg are sleeping, giving me a chance to edit and post pictures from our Dallas trip. We had a great time, although it was (as usual) too short to see everyone we wanted to see. Alex was the darling of the hotel staff, with everyone from the concierge to the valet guys. But here is what everyone really wants:

Alex meets the "Birthday Club" girls for the first time -- Chrysta, Jill, and Val (as Greg mentioned, a few were missing due to extreme pregnancy and having moved from Dallas). We've been friends since the days we all worked at Jones Day (Val and I, since we were summer associates at Johnson & Gibbs). Alex's moment as the littlest B-Club baby was short -- Cindy's third child, Sophie, was born on Friday. Below, Cindy and Jill (on Thursday -- she is just the cutest pregnant person ever) and Sophie with her Mom and Dad on Friday. Congratulations to parents Cindy and David, and big brothers Hayden and Trey.

Another highlight of the visit was lunch with Peggy at the Zodiac Room -- ostensibly for Peggy's birthday, but we were really just looking for an excuse to see her. Alex was asleep when we arrived, but opened her eyes with a huge smile when she heard Peggy's voice. We discussed what Peggy would like to be called (once Alex can talk) and she offered that her grandchildren called her Memaw, so she will be known as "Memaw Peggy."

We also visited the Jones Day Dallas office (summer associates are getting younger every year) and introduced Alex to her many fans. Here, with Kathy Shea and Dad, Joan Jarosek and Dad, and David Horan with Mom and Dad. Dad also gave Alex a spin in a conference room chair, post- diaper change.

Alex is a great traveler, as these pictures from the hotel and at a Tex-Mex restaurant indicate. We think she liked room service the best.

Finally, a few from last week's visit from Holly and Michael, our friends who will be adopting a new friend for Alex soon. While we are not officially charging admission to visit Alex, a happy tradition of doing so via bringing dinner seems to have developed. Thankfully so, since cooking is not high on my agenda these days. Not only that, but Holly and Michael brought a huge pan of homemade lasagna, the leftovers of which are currently defrosting for tonight's dinner. The gift that keeps on giving.

Well, both Alex and Greg are up, so I'll sign off.

-- Jane

Friday, September 8, 2006 and Saturday, September 9, 2006

Another two-in-one post, again occasioned by a very busy social schedule in Dallas, interrupted by occasional bursts of work.

The Friday report: For me, a second day of meetings and interviews in our Dallas office. For Jane and Alex, it was social visits and shopping, followed by a snack and a nap in the hotel room, and then a trip over to Jones Day - Dallas to meet some more of our friends here -- notably, David Cowling, Dave Horan, most of the Dallas-based library staff (Joan Jarosek, who has just been promoted to be our first Firm Director of Library Services, and her colleagues Anne and Paula), and several others. A special "shout-out" to our regular reader Kathy Shea, our Dallas Recruiting Manager -- who carried Alex around for quite a while, allowing us to get several pictures of her with Alex.

By the way: I'm told the pictures are uploaded and are coming tomorrow.

After our trip to Jones Day, the three of us headed off to Plano to meet evil genius Cason and his wife Tonia -- and to see their almost-completed new house. After the tour of the future Chez Pilliod, the five of us decamped to dinner at a local Tex-Mex place, Luna de Noche. Alex seemed to love Tonia's voice in an almost mystical way, and Tonia held a very satisfied Alex for the longest time. (Wasn't sure Tonia was going to let go.)

We returned to the hotel after dinner, and Alex was so comfortable sleeping on (or next to) Daddy that I just let her stay there the whole night instead of returning her to her crib. Allegedly, Jane got a photo of that in the middle of the night. Can't wait to see that one.

I know that at some point, traveling with a small child isn't going to be either easy or fun, but that is exactly what this trip was. And it was made even easier by one of the best hotels we've stayed in in a long time -- the Hotel Crescent Court. It's a nice hotel with good amenities, but what really stood out was the quality of the service. Jane asked the desk clerk for a crib for Alex, and they sent up a crib, a bib, a bottle of gentle baby wash, and a rubber ducky wearing a cowboy hat. The last of these was liberated from the hotel and returned home with us today. Quack quack.

Speaking of ducks, Alex, who is wearing her "D is for Duckie" jammies, is presently asleep on her Mom's chest, snoring. (Occasioning Jane to say "Great. I'll be sleeping in a room with two snoring people tonight.") The snoring is caused by the nasal congestion that Alex has as she winds up her first baby cold. And, if you haven't sussed this one out yet, babies don't know how to blow their noses. So the nightly ritual the last few days has involved the use of a nasal aspirator, followed by a spray of Simply Saline in each of her nostrils. Followed by some crying and snorting.

Alex cried and snorted some, too.

Anyway, this morning's trip to the DFW airport -- including the rental-car return, check-in, and the security line -- was easy. Our flight back was a little late in leaving, and as the scheduled boarding time approached (and no plane was yet at the gate), Alex began getting a little fussy. Jane predicted that the cry was a "hungry cry," and was getting ready to buy a bottle of water to mix up one of the last few installments of formula that we had with us. This is no small deal in the Brave New World of no liquids or gels. But I wasn't so sure it was a hungry cry, and so I took her for a little walk through the boarding area. Alex promptly stopped fussing and went back to sleep. Score one for Daddy.

But I didn't write that because I wanted to do the Dance of the Righteous (or, as our nephew Sam is prone to say, "I am wight and you are wong."). No, I wrote that because I wanted to set up the prologue for the phenomenon I experienced as I walked Alex through the boarding area: Every woman was looking at me. Forty-one-and-a-half years, and that was the first time in my life I felt like every woman in the room was looking at me.

Now I know how George Clooney feels.

-- Greg

Wednesday, September 6, 2006 and Thursday, September 7, 2006

Greetings from a very busy couple of days in Dallas, which has occasioned our first two-in-one post.

First, the report on Alex's flight -- her second one in her life. (I was nine years old before I ever rode on an airplane -- a 30-minute flight between Indianapolis and Columbus, Ohio -- and 20 when I took my second flight -- from Indianapolis to Pittsburgh and then to London, England; Alex'll have done three half-cross-country flights in her first seven and a half weeks.) She was, again, perfect. As we waited for our luggage at DFW, several people came up to Jane (who was holding Alex) to compliment us on what a well-behaved child we have. Most of those conversations went something like this: "When I saw you bring that baby on the flight and sit down right in front of me, I was worried. But she was so good, I was pleasantly surprised."

Thanks for the compliments, guys.

On our way to getting the rental car, we missed the first rental-car bus because a completely oblivious family walked out on the sidewalk and just stopped. Not quite the flying wedge of our August 2 arrival at DFW (scroll down), but still enough to block all access to people walking behind them. Like us. Perhaps I was that clueless before we had Alex, and if I was, I'm sorry. But these days, I detect a lot more people -- especially at airports -- who just stop in the middle of foot traffic to the great inconvenience (shall we just say) of people walking behind them. Now I'm six-two and two hundred and something pounds, and if you just decide to stop in the middle of National Airport while I'm walking right behind you trailing a rolling suiitcase, I will not be held responsible. You are hereby on notice.

Now for something I've been wanting to write since Tuesday night. On Tuesday, I had TiVoed the first telecast of the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric, just to see this phenomenon for myself. First, the cool part: The voiceover at the beginning of the telecast ("This is the CBS Evening News . . . with Katie Couric") was no other than the stentorian voice of Walter Cronkite. Uncle Walter was a big part of my childhood, because -- so I am told -- I had two favorite TV shows when I was still in the highchair: Lassie, and The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. I used to cry (again, so I am told) when the closing theme song to Lassie played, and my name for the television was "the Walter Cronkite." Seriously. I am not making any of this up.

I miss Walter Cronkite. He really told things "the way it is," he has a sense of humor, and he has a pretty feisty wife, too. I remember years ago hearing that a reporter had asked Uncle Walter how he wanted to die. He said something like "On my 80-foot yacht with my 18-year-old mistress." To which his wife, Betsy, responded, "Walter, knowing you, it'll be an 18-foot boat and an 80-year-old mistress." That's the same sort of Noel Coward smartassistry that I've come to expect from my own bride.

But the other (and less laudable) thing of note from Katie Couric's debut as the anchor of the CBS Evening News was that she got the "scoop" of being the first to show pictures of Suri Cruise, the spawn of Tom "Jumped the Shark when I Jumped the Couch" Cruise and Katie "Perhaps this is my Highest-Paying Role to Date" Holmes. Aside from the fact that this is not news, this kid -- who was until Tuesday about as missing as the Lindbergh Baby -- looks like he's wearing a toupee. A bad toupee. A really bad toupee. And after hearing all of the Scientologist buddies of Cruise's effuse about how beautiful this baby was, I must say I was not impressed. Our baby is far more beautiful than that dust mop with ears. (Which may constitute praising with faint damnation.) And I think that's objectively true, even though I'm totally biased in favor of the Cutest Baby Ever.

Tuesday night was dinner with half of the Birthday Club Aunts -- Chrysta, Jill, and Val. (Jane can explain the origin of the "Birthday Club" name.) The three who were not there have good excuses: Cindy, who is about ten and a half months pregnant and ready to blow, was not up for Tex-Mex at Mi Cocina in Highland Park Village; Kristi lives in Houston now; and Debbie is in Neenah, Wisconsin. All of them met as associates at Jones Day; only Kristi is still there, and of the others, only Chrysta still practices law in a law firm. Lots of pictures from that dinner; Jane, the technologically savvy one of us, will have to post those.

Today, while I worked, Jane and Alex made the rounds to see several of the same girls, but that was only after lunch and a shopping trip with Peggy. Jane and Alex took Peggy to the Zodiac Room at the North Park Neiman-Marcus for a belated birthday lunch; the Zodiac Room is apparently a rite of passage for any properly raised Texas girl, and it is where Peggy has taken her granddaughters for their first "proper" lunch. Since I wasn't there, Jane will have to write about that, and she'll post the pictures from that, too.

Jane and Alex picked me up from the office, where our friend and my partner "Uncle Bubba," Joe McEntee, got to meet Alex. Joe is retiring from the Firm at the end of this year, and he's the last of my "mentors" to retire from the Firm. Which, as I told another of my partners today, is making me feel sort of like a high-wire artist whose net has just been removed.

Tonight was dinner at our friends Joe and Laurie Lang's house, along with their boys Jacob and Lucas -- two of the best-behaved boys we've encountered anywhere. I ended the night by swinging four-year-old Lucas around in circles by his legs. And what four-year-old doesn't enjoy that? Certainly not Lucas, who asked if I could do that "again." And "again."

A last comment: I've mentioned seven of Jane's contemporaries above. Three of the seven have all had -- and, thank God, beaten -- cancer prior to the age of 40. Each of the three has two or more young children. They, and their families, are everyday heroes for what they have done and been through.

-- Greg

Tuesday, September 5, 2006

There's an expression that goes something like "When America has a cold, the world sneezes."

Well, when Alex has a cold, her Mom and Dad don't sleep (much) -- they don't even put her down. And that's what has been going on here the last day and a half.

Yesterday, Alex started getting somewhat wheezy. Then came some snorting, and a whole lot of wailing. And that was just Jane's response. (Kidding.) No, shortly before Holly and Michael came over, Alex made it pretty clear that she was feeling out of sorts -- wheezing, coughing (which is something we'd never heard from her before), and more than the occasional sneeze (which is all we'd heard out of her before yesterday). We were pretty sure it was her first baby cold, but "the books" say to call the pediatrician for her first cold. So we did. At 5:00 in the afternoon on Labor Day. And guess what? It took the doctors less than ten minutes to call us back.

At 5 in the afternoon. On Labor Day. Mark me impressed with our pediatricians.

So the doctors' office told us that it was most likely, as we suspected, a cold. They had some suggestions on how to alleviate the discomfort (saline sprays into her nostrils; aspirating the, um, mucus from her nasal passages), and told us what to watch for lest the cold turn into croup or something worse. We were grateful, and we got on to the business of some really good lasagna and chocolate cake that Michael and Holly (respectively) made and brought over. Alex took a real liking to being held by Holly and Michael -- so much so that I thought Alex was going to insist on having them stay the night.

Well, the Kortright-Fudges couldn't stay the night, so eventually they headed home, and we were left with our sick little one. And because she was uncomfortable, she was really insisting on being held. So hold her one of us did. All night. Most of it sleeping on Jane's chest.

This situation, unfortunate as it was, had an interesting side effect: Alex slept all the way through the night, from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m., when my alarm went off. No waking to be fed. No waking because a new diaper was needed. No waking because she was coughing. Eight straight hours. Wow.

Well, just to be safe -- and because it was Alex's first cold, and because "the books" say so -- Jane and Alex went to the pediatrician this morning just to make sure this wasn't something more serious. And it wasn't. Her ears are clear; her lungs are clear; and get this -- get this --

Alex now weighs eight and a half pounds.

So let's review the growth rate milestones, shall we?

July 19, 2006 (birth) -- 5 lbs., 6 oz.

July 28, 2006 (9 days) -- 5 lbs., 8 oz.

August 7, 2006 (19 days) -- 6 lbs., 0 oz.

September 5, 2006 (48 days) -- 8 lbs., 8 oz.

Now, let's cook the numbers just a little: Back on August 7, I did a little back-of-the-envelope calculation showing that, at her then-current growth rate (10 oz. in 19 days, or a little over a half-ounce per day), she would be 100 lbs. by the time she was eight years old. Well, now that the growth rate is 50 oz. in 48 days (or a little over an ounce every day), she's now on track to reach 100 lbs. in a bit more than three years and ten months. So by the time Alex has four candles to blow out on her cake, she'll be eating the whole cake, and probably the candles, too.

Fortunately, straight-line projections like this don't play out in the long haul. Perhaps Michael Fudge can help me with the more complex mathematics. Even if it takes a rocket scientist, he's a rocket scientist.

Tomorrow, the three of us are off to Dallas -- me for some meetings; Jane and Alex to visit the Dallas aunts. And Peggy.

-- Greg

Monday, September 4, 2006

"Hi there, it's me mom." I've heard my mom say this to me about, oh, a zillion times on the phone, and it still makes me laugh to say it to Alex. Anyway, here are a few more pictures. We are still doing great, thanks to the miracle blanket, the great pre-us training Alex received from Peggy, fabulous parenting skills by us (ha) and mostly due to Alex's wonderful disposition. Greg is currently whistling to entertain le bebe, having abandoned his attempt to do a Spanish dance of some sort, which failed to amuse Alex but left me sitting on the floor laughing.

We are looking forward to having dinner tonight with our friends Holly and Michael, who we hope will be adopting soon from the same agency as we did. We should take this opportunity to thank the "Gladney Gang" -- Christy, Greg and Nicholas, and Holly and Michael and their future child (a player to be named later, in baseball terms). They got us through many of the difficult times, when it seemed like we'd be stuck in paperwork forever. Here is a picture of the "girls" with the first of the Gladney babies, Nicholas (who you have heard of in Greg's posts). Hopefully, we'll add to the gang soon.

A few additional pictures from the shower:

Mary, her mom Rose, friend Shannon and crew did a great job decorating for the party:

Right down to the favors, little pictures of Alex.

Me in tears opening the bracelet; Mary reading the poem that I STILL can't read without tearing up.

Mary and me, post shower.

More candid shots -- opening Alex's first cowboy shirt (in honor of her Texas heritage); the hairbrush that can be filled with water to spritz on wayward hair, saving Alex the indignity of me spitting on her head; and a personalized tie-dyed onsie, made by a friend who has twins and yet, apparently, still has too much time on her hands . . . .

Daddy gave Alex her bath today. She was a little unsure of his abilities at first, but came around in the end.

And a few from this weekend: Alex helping me read; doing "baby sit-ups"; talking on the phone to her Nana and Papa.

Off to hide the laundry before our dinner guests arrive.

-- Jane

Sunday, September 3, 2006

It's now been a month since the two of us became three.

So what's different around the Castanias house?

Oh, nothing, really. Except for a few things:

Our sunroom is now a playroom, equipped with bookshelves (already filled with children's books), toy bins, a changing table (stocked with a basket of diapers, a basket of cloth diapers, a basket of salves and the like, and a wipe warmer), and baby toys up the wazoo.

Our kitchen counter is the permanent home of a baby-bottle draining and drying rack, a can of Similac Lactose-Free, and a bottle of Karo syrup.

Our trash can is full of little blue scented bags.

If our house is too quiet at 2 a.m., one of us gets up to check to see if Alex is still breathing. (So far, so good.)

Before August 3, none of the inhabitants of the house had any challenges in keeping his or her head up, nor did any of us have to pause for a burp halfway through each meal. (Notice I said "have to.")

We haven't seen a movie in forever, and we don't go out to dinner nearly as frequently as we used to.

Although Jane was already an experienced and professional swing dancer, she had never before partnered with a six-week-old to do "The Poopy Dance." (Ask her. Or just use your imagination.)

And we wouldn't go back to the way it was before August 3 for anything in the world.

If we needed any proof that we wouldn't change things back to our more-flexible, pre-August 3 lifestyle, it would have come in a note we received last week from Peggy. (Our hitting the one-month mark as parents was also recognized in an e-mail this morning from Peggy.) Earlier this week, we received a thank-you note from her (we had sent her a keychain, and a new baby-girl outfit for her to use with one of her next interim charges from the Gladney Center for Adoption). That note, dated August 28th, ended with this "P.S."

P.S. Had to stop this note as Gladney called about a little fellow that was to leave the hospital in 30 minutes -- Ethan will be with me for 3 days before going to his family. As today is my birthday I had dinner plans -- now take out or friends' delivery will be the menu.

So, as you can see, Peggy -- even though she doesn't have to -- willingly has her life turned upside down by these wee folk. Little wonder we find it so exhilarating -- Peggy can't seem to shake the addiction to these little ones. Not even if it means sacrificing her birthday dinner.

More importantly, Happy Birthday, Peggy! As our August 28 post ("We know that storks don't bring babies. Peggy brings babies.") demonstrates, we were thinking of her on her birthday. Happy, happy birthday -- and we wish you many more (both birthdays and babies).

And most importantly, both of my girls are feeling much better today.

-- Greg

Just a quick further update for the day: Since my girls were feeling better today, we did decide to go out for an early dinner tonight. Daddy Duck and the girls decided to go to Peking Gourmet for Peking Duck and Chinese leek dumplings. Notable: Alex was beautifully behaved; the Peking Gourmet does not have changing stations in its restrooms; and we saw Ted Koppel there just as we were leaving.

Alex was fascinated at all the sights, smells, and the bustle of people. At one point, when one of the ladies from the restaurant had brought a duck out on a tray to carve tableside for another table, Alex's eyes seemed to follow her (or was it the duck?) across the room, and fixed on her when she put the duck down to carve it. Perhaps (we hope) we're creating early experiences for Alex that will make her willing to try new and unusual things when she's older.

However, Jane vetoed my idea of adding Hoisin sauce to Alex's bottle in lieu of the Karo syrup. I can already see a clash of parenting styles.

-- Greg

Saturday, September 2, 2006

Another good night of sleep from the Wee One.

But . . .

Not so great for Jane. She woke up in the middle of the night with sinus difficulties (mine weren't great, either, suggesting that this low-pressure system from Tropical Storm Ernesto might have had some effect on our delicately calibrated systems), and she's been pretty tired all day. So, Jane requested that I make my special macaroni and cheese for lunch (a favorite of hers when she's not feeling good), and after that, I decided that I'd let Jane and Alex sleep at home while I did the grocery shopping. Before I left, Jane was feeling enough better that we agreed that we'd go out to dinner tonight (with Alex, of course), instead of cooking at home, and so I wouldn't buy anything particularly intended for tonight's dinner.

"The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men . . . "

That was the plan. The reality was otherwise. Without going into too much detail, little Alexandra too may have been affected by the low-pressure system. She found herself in need of whatever the opposite of Karo Syrup is. And it was clear that this was her first experience with that particular physical phenomenon, and she was not happy. Nope, not happy at all. In fact, she was screaming bloody murder, as if to say "Dad, what is happening to me?"

Well, eventually we got that particular crisis under control, but under the circumstances, it would have been foolhardy to try to deal with that at a local restaurant. So instead of going to dinner, dinner came to our door.

Tonight's little issue really made us feel helpless. If Alex is hungry, or if she needs a diaper change, she can tell us that, and we can make it better promptly. Even if she's constipated, we can eventually help out that situation by a prompt administration of Karo Syrup or pear juice. But this one, this one -- it just had to run its course. So to speak.

Now it's approaching midnight, and both of my under-the-weather girls are asleep. I'm watching the last five minutes of the Notre Dame-Georgia Tech football game (Notre Dame leads 14-10 with 4:36 left). I remember when I was younger, and this was about the time on Saturday night that you'd decide which bar to go out to. I don't miss those days.

Speaking of best-laid schemes: Remind me not to go grocery shopping mid-afternoon on Saturday. It took almost a half-hour just to find a parking spot. Not to find a good parking spot -- any parking spot. It was like Christmas-shopping season at the mall -- people were following (really, stalking) shoppers out of the stores in their cars just to claim their parking spots. Unreal.

Notre Dame's quarterback, Brady Quinn, just dove for a first down on fourth-and-one, and now he's taking a knee. The #2-ranked team in the country just escaped a scare from an unranked, but very good, Georgia Tech football team.

-- Greg

Friday, September 1, 2006

And so another month begins.

It's the Friday before the Labor Day weekend, and an excellent day to play hooky. At least in part. I went to the office this morning (mostly because I had promised to interview a "rising 2L" when I thought I needed to be in the office all day), and a couple of days ago, when it was apparent I could escape early, I agreed to have lunch with my friend (and law-school classmate) Chris Van Natta. Chris and his wife Colleen are great friends, even though we never get to see as much of them as we'd like. I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that they have four children age 6 and under?

Incidentally, Colleen and Chris (and I listed them in that order because Colleen was mostly responsible for this) gave us the neatest gift to mark Alexandra's arrival -- a shadow box commemorating Alex's birthdate, weight, length, etc., along with the legend "Castanias Family joined together August 3, 2006." Not only was it a neat gift in its own right, it acknowledged both of the important dates in Alex's life -- her birthday, and the date she "joined" us. As soon as Alex's room gets painted, that's going up on the wall in a place of honor.

Well, sadly (for us), Chris had news of his own at lunch -- they're moving to Ohio, where he's going to be taking an executive position dealing with labor relations at the Timken Company. In fact, Colleen and the kids are already there. But we can't be too sad -- it's a great opportunity for Chris; they're all going to be near Colleen's family; and Ohio isn't that far. Plus, as Chris was quick to point out, Timken is a long-time client of Jones Day, so there'll be opportunities for our paths to cross professionally as well as personally.

So I went home after lunch, and that freed Jane to go do some errands herself. The most important of these errands was for her to go sit in a Starbucks by herself with a cup of coffee and a book. She also bought a case of Lactose-Free Similac, another truckload of diapers, and a couple of baby outfits she couldn't resist at the Store That Shall Not Be Named.

Meanwhile, Dad and Alex did some father-and-daughter bonding. To start, we slept -- me in the big chair in the sunroom, Alex on my chest -- for about two hours. Since it's been raining nonstop all day, and promises to for the next four days (the leading edge of Hurricane/Tropical Storm Ernesto), it was the perfect afternoon activity. Then we got up and had a diaper change (just for Alex), and a bottle (also just for Alex, but one of these days I'm going to try Similac in my coffee), and then we played on the family room floor on The World's Softest Baby Blanket, which is what we were doing when Mommy got back from shopping. Three and a half hours well spent, indeed.

Today's mail brought a new rug for the sunroom-turned-playroom (it has the letters of the alphabet on it), and Alex promptly christened it by drooling on it. Also some cute new outfits for Alex from our Dallas friends Jill, Ken, Kyle, and Jason.

Finally, and speaking of gifts, Jane mentioned the other day one of her shower gifts -- the "ALEX" bracelet from Mary Stern -- that caused her to wipe away tears with a cloth diaper. There was another gift that accompanied it, not mentioned by Jane, that was also enough to send even the steeliest of us over the edge. It was a framed print of a poem entitled "The Chosen Heart," and it comes with an engravable plaque and a little kit that allows us to put Alex's footprints on the print, along with a photo of her.

Anyway, this is the poem:

The Chosen Heart

Longing for a child to love, I'd wish upon the stars above.
In my heart I always knew, a part of me was meant for you.
I think how happy we will be, once I adopt you, and you adopt me.

I dream of all the joy you'll bring, imagining even the littlest things.
The way it will feel to hold you tight, and tuck you in every night.
The drawing on the refrigerator door, and childhood toys across the floor.
The favorite stories read again and again, and hours of games with make-believe friends.

The day you took my outstretched hand, a journey ended, but our lives began.
Still mesmerized by your sweet face, still warmed inside by our first embrace.
I promised to give you a happy home, and a loving family all your own.
A house you've now made complete, with laughter, smiles, and tiny feet.

A parent is one who guides the way, know I will be there everyday.
Rest easy as each night you sleep, a lifetime of love is yours to keep.
Longing for a child to love, I'd wish upon the stars above.
In my heart I always knew, a part of me belonged to you.

(c) 1997 Teri Harrison

-- Greg

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Each baby is like a different person.

This observation, which may seem like it emanates from the Department of the Obvious, actually comes from the minds of two pretty well-rested parents, because Alex slept for seven and a half hours straight last night.

That came after a five-and-a-half hour night the night before. We're attributing these recent strings of longer sleep to one of Alex's shower gifts -- the Miracle Blanket. Ever since we started wrapping her in the Miracle Blanket before putting her in the bassinet, she's been sleeping a lot longer at night. Last night she went down at 9:00, and we didn't hear a peep from her until 4:30 a.m.

Jane just ordered several more over the Internet, and requested that they be sent by Federal Express overnight delivery.

So what does this have to do with babies being different? As regular readers know, we were advised by two of our friends (recent parents themselves) that, and I quote, "The swaddle blankets suck. Do not be fooled by their shiny packaging." With all respect, that was probably true for them and their boy, but our little girl seems to really take a liking to them.

Her parents definitely like them.

Oh, and today marks one month since we learned that we were going to become parents. (Scroll all the way down for that story.)

-- Greg

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

This morning, because I was at home late for our appointment with Karen, I was witness to a little dance that Jane does while holding Alex.

Apparently, Alex has become quite the aficionado of '50s doo-wop ("The Lion Sleeps Tonight") and classic '60s standards, and Jane and Alex regularly dance to these tunes as part of their mornings. Jane sings to Alex, too.

Today, it was the Turtles' "Happy Together," with a few lyrics added or altered by my bride:

Imagine me and you, I do
I think about you day and night, it's only right
To think about the girl you love and hold her tight
So happy together

That one worked without any alterations. And then:

If I should call you up, invest a dime
And you say you belong to me and ease my mind
Imagine how the world could be, so very fine
So happy together

Well, it's a little hard to "call up" a baby who can't talk or hold a telephone receiver -- though, I admit it, I have requested that I be allowed to talk to my daughter when I've been out of town, or when I'm on my way home. And tonight Alex talked to her Papou on the phone. But back to the song -- and in particular, the chorus:

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you (and Daddy)
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life

(The parenthetical was added by Jane. A nice reminder to Alex that her parents -- as a unit -- are, and will always be, a fixed and constant star to help guide her young life.)

And so on.

Anyway, as I mentioned, Alex got a chance to chat with her Papou this evening. That was once I got home. On the way home, Papou and I had our own chat, about what it was like to become a Dad for the first time at 41. A neat father-son conversation to have. Without recounting it all, I remember him saying (about my own birth): "I was flying high. Higher than I ever got in a B-17." Yep. Can't disagree with that.

Since I've mentioned that my Dad piloted a B-17 in the European Theatre, perhaps you'd like to see a picture of his plane, the "Rattlesnake Daddy" (Eighth Air Force, 457th Bomb Group, 749th Bomb Squadron). This was in the WW II tradition that planes got named -- like the "Memphis Belle," probably the most famous "Flying Fortress" of them all -- and in many cases had elaborate nose art. Several famous folks were either B-17 pilots (Jimmy Stewart, Dallas Cowboys coach Tom Landry, 'Star Trek' creator Gene Roddenberry, and General and 1968 vice-presidential candidate Curtis LeMay), or B-17 crew members (Clark Gable was a gunner, and TV producer Norman Lear was a radio operator).

One other thing Dad and I always have to cover during our phone calls is how our Red Sox are doing. Right now, the answer is "not well." In fact, dating back pretty much to Alex's birth, they've been in free fall in the AL East. On the day Alex entered the world, the Sox had won their second consecutive 1-0 game at Fenway Park, completing a three-game sweep of the Kansas City Royals behind a combined gem from Josh Beckett and Jonathan Papelbon. That same day, Beckett signed a three-year, $30 million extension with the Red Sox, who were, at 57-36, a game and a half ahead of the Yankees. Today, the Sox stand at 71-62, eight games behind the hated Yankees, on a six-game losing streak and 3-14 in their last 17 games (including that ugly, ugly five-game sweep at home by the Yankees -- the 2006 Boston Massacre). As of today, the Sox are 14-26 since Alex arrived, and I pointed this out to Dad. And to quote my Dad, a Sox fan of 80-plus years who saw Babe Ruth play (Dad was born in Haverhill, Massachusetts, the home, since elementary school, of the Red Sox' recently acquired first baseman Carlos Pena), "It just doesn't matter. I'd trade the Sox for Alex in a heartbeat."

I'm not sure that Theo Epstein could get that much for the Red Sox right now.

But what about Alex, who's been with us for four weeks today (Sox are 7-19 since then, if you're scoring at home -- or even if you're alone)? Well, she's sleeping at night in longer stretches (five and a half hours the other night), she's more and more alert during the day, and she clearly knows Jane and me (and our voices). According to Jane, she recognized my voice on the phone when I called to say I'd be heading home tonight, and looked around and seemed confused when she couldn't see me. She also seems to expect to be held by Daddy immediately upon his arrival home.

That must explain why I don't get any work done once I get home.

-- Greg

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

I suppose it's actually Wednesday, 3:30 am and I (Jane, believe it or not) can't sleep. Must be a sign that Alex is sleeping well that I have insomnia. But it at least gives me a chance to post a few pictures.

Since I last posted, my Mom went back to Wichita, much to our disappointment -- it was fantastic having an extra "baby holder" for 2 whole weeks. Alex now thinks that she should be held all day, which is great, except for the fact that the laundry is really piling up . . . Below is a picture of "one last snuggle" before Mom headed home.

The next big event was the baby shower this weekend. HUGE thanks to our great friend Mary Stern and her many helpers for such a fun day. We laughed, we cried, we ate fabulous food. I had a blast, and Alex was beautifully behaved, although she slept through most of it. Everyone was far too generous, but Alex will be the best dressed baby around. Good friend Shannon DePrado took a few pictures, and I should have more later this week.

A few people have asked about the "story of the bracelets," a gift that sent me (and half the guests) over the edge and had me wiping tears away with a diaper (those cloth ones are good for so many things!). As many of you know, our adoption paperwork hit all kinds of bureaucratic snags, including a complete change in the way out of state applications are processed in Texas that took effect the week before we turned in our paperwork. It was incredibly frustrating, and at times I really lost hope that it would all work out. At a particularly low point, Mary gave me one of those bracelets that people usually wear with their children's names on it, but this one said "believe." It was an incredibly thoughtful gift and helped me keep the faith in some of the worst moments. At the shower, she gave me a new bracelet, with Alex's name and birthstone. I will treasure both, and can't wait to tell Alex all about them.

Barely recovered from the excitement of the weekend, good friends Larry and Deborah brought dinner over last night, accompanied by their son Alex (age 2). Both Alexes were incredibly cute and well behaved, although that is probably a more impressive feat for a 2-year-old. We continue to be overwhelmed by the generosity of our friends.

Finally, we have to mention the miracle that is the "miracle wrap" swaddler (from Mary's parents Rose and John, who have been great supporters and friends during this time). Alex is sleeping an HOUR LONGER per "night shift" when wearing the swaddler. Although we jokingly refer to it as the "baby straitjacket," it really is a miracle. Here, Alex is modeling it while sitting on top the pile of laundry that is the "baby booty" from the shower, freshly washed with Dreft. Plus a picture in one of her new outfits, where she looked so big and grown up that I almost changed her back into a onesie.

Off to bed. We have our first post adoption "home visit" tomorrow (today), and it is a mark of how far we have come in this process that I am not up cleaning instead of posting. Our social worker, Karen, is great -- the process of getting "approved" as parents could have been stressful, but instead she has made it an interesting and informative time. So I am not organizing my sock drawer as I did before the first visit. Yes, I know you are thinking (and Greg would say) -- freak.

Back to your regularly scheduled (and funnier) poster.

-- Jane

Monday, August 28, 2006

Did you know Alex has a little stork bite on her head?

That's actually what doctors call it. Even though doctors should know better -- storks don't actually carry the babies in their mouths; they have them in a little blanket that they hold in their beaks. Sheesh. The quality of American medical education these days!

Okay, seriously. We know that storks don't bring babies. Peggy brings babies.

(So does that mean Peggy bit her? Never mind.)

Okay, really, seriously. A stork bite (also called a "salmon patch" -- but whoever heard of a salmon bringing a baby? Really.) is a vascular lesion seen on approximately one-third of newborn infants. It is a pale red patch, and in Alex's case, it's located on the right side of her head, just below the crown, toward the back. Stork bites usually disappear by 18 months, unless they are located at the back of the neck. Those, for some strange reason, tend to persist for life.

Personally, although we've been told it's a stork bite, I think it looks more like a strawberry mark (see one here on a baby that's not Alex). Either way, they're not dangerous, and may or may not disappear over time. Strawberry marks tend to get larger, then remain a fixed size, then disappear by age nine, according to the medical books. In Alex's case, whatever this vascular thing is, it'll be covered by her hair, which for now is still brown. We're betting she turns out to be a blonde, though.

Blonde just like her Mom. (That's Jane's story, and she's sticking to it.)

-- Greg

Sunday, August 27, 2006

Lazy Sunday.

Lazier than "Lazy Sunday," in fact, because we almost didn't even leave the house. Not for cupcakes. Not for the Chroni(what?)-cles of Narnia. I ran a quick drugstore errand and picked up lunch for the big people with teeth, but that would have been the only introduction of a Castanias into public life today -- except for the fact that Jane decided, at about 7:45 tonight, that we should take Wee One and go out to dinner. Turns out we had both been thinking about Indian food most of the day. So off we went to InFusion, at Tysons Corner. (If you haven't been, and you're in the area, go!) Alex slept in her car seat throughout our dinner, and didn't wake up until well after we got home.

Here are a few new things we've learned about Alex today.

(1) She is beginning to like pear nectar. Which is good, because it's intended basically to serve as industrial-strength Karo syrup.

(2) Pear nectar works for its intended purpose.

(3) She can lift up her head for long periods of time now when she's on her tummy.

(4) If she's fussy and crying, blowing right into her face will cause her to stop, and look at you with wonderment.

(5) She likes the baby strait jacket (a/k/a swaddling blanket) that she got as a shower gift.

I'm typing today's update on my laptop while laying back in bed with a swaddled, sleeping baby on my chest. Jane is on the telephone with a friend of hers from college, as one of their friends (and fellow collegiate political leaders) today passed away from cancer. That's the second of their contemporaries to have died of cancer in the few weeks since Alex was born, and it's a sobering reality check on the "circle of life," as I'm older than they are -- yet here I am with my new daughter sleeping on my chest. Which reminds me that my Dad had half a lung removed when I was six months old. He was 41 years and seven months old, which is what I'll be in about three or four weeks.

On the bright side, Dad's still around and doing well at 82, and I'm in excellent health. As is Jane. As is our baby daughter.

Oh, by the way: I know you want shower pictures and stories from Saturday. But I wasn't there. So Jane's going to have to provide that update. Coming soon, she says.

-- Greg

Saturday, August 26, 2006

The shower has come and gone, and we have the biggest single-day stash of baby booty ever.

Since I got home at 2:30 a.m. today, I slept in later than I had hoped to. That meant I was walking a slightly fussy Alexandra around the main floor of the house -- unshaven, still wearing my just-out-of-bed uniform of Red Sox jersey (#27)and gym shorts -- when Mary and her mother Rose got here to start putting out food and finish the decorations (my house had been decorated with pink and white things the day before, but I didn't notice when I stumbled in at such a late hour earlier today). As a result, I was rushing out the door to escape the estrogen brigade a little later than I had hoped -- the good news, though, was that I got to say hello to a number of our friends just as they were arriving.

So I spent a few hours this afternoon having a beer and pizza while observing the 2006 Fantasy Football draft in Greg Nanna's league, at their house. Michael Fudge, a soon-to-be Gladney Father (like G. Nanna and G. Castanias), was sitting in for another one of the league owners, who could not attend because he and his wife had just adopted their first child earlier this week. Plus, Michael and Greg N.'s wives, Holly and Christy, were part of the klatsch at my house. I was grateful to have a place to hang our for a few hours.

And if you think watching someone else's Fantasy Football draft is boring, you'd be surprised. I even learned something -- most importantly, that Aaron Brooks is poised to be the 2006 NFL MVP. At least if Greg "Just Win, Baby" Nanna has anything to say about it.

So anyway, I got back home just as the party was breaking up, and a couple of stalwarts remained, cleaning our kitchen. (God bless you, Mary and Debbie.) After it was just the three of us again, Jane and Alex started a "fashion show" of some of the stuff they'd gotten today. The show wasn't completed, thanks to diaper changes and a feeding emphatically requested by You Know Who, but we did get to the Fisher-Price Ocean Wonders Aquarium Bouncer, which Daddy got to put together.

When Daddy put it together, he came to realize that it required four "D" batteries, which was four more than we had in the house. So I ran down the street to the Giant supermarket (those who don't live around here should know that Giant is the name of the store, not necessarily a description) to pick up batteries, and replacement light bulbs for the several fixtures outside our house.

On the way out to the Nanna Draft, I had popped the newest Paul Simon CD, Surprise, into the car CD player. As I tooled off to the store, it was playing starting where I had left off when I parked the car in the garage a couple of hours earlier.

Now, I bought this album about two months B.A. (Before Alex), and I've listened to it in its entirety -- tracks one to eleven -- perhaps 20 times. But this was the first time I had played it A.D. (After Daddyhood). And on the way back home from the store, the last track started playing.

If you leap awake
In the mirror of a bad dream,
And for a fraction of a second
You can't remember where you are,
Just open your window
And follow your memory upstream
To the meadow in the mountain where we counted every falling star.

I believe the light that shines on you
Will shine on you forever (forever).
And though I can't guarantee
There's nothing scary hiding under your bed,
I’m gonna stand guard
Like a postcard of a golden retriever.
And never leave till I leave you with a sweet dream in your head.

I'm gonna watch you shine,
Gonna watch you grow.
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know.
As long as one and one is two.
There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you.

There are a couple more stanzas to the song, but these are all it took before I felt the tears rolling down my face. I had heard this song dozens of times before, but now it's an entirely new song.

By the way, the song is called "Father and Daughter," and Paul Simon has been kind enough to make it available for listening for free at his website -- it's track 11. And a further "by the way" -- track 6, "Beautiful," is itself about adoption.

When I got home, I stayed outside and changed lightbulbs for several minutes. Not that I'm ashamed to have my wife and daughter see me cry, but there had already been plenty of tears (the good kind) at the shower. No need to start that up again.

There could never be a father who loved his daughter more than I love you.

-- Greg

Friday, August 25, 2006

Spending the full day in Chicago recruiting for the Firm at Northwestern, but taking the last flight back to DC so I don't miss another night at home. And, after all, the first big shower is Saturday, and I'll be constructively evicted from my home for most of the day. So I'd better maximize my time at home while I can.

[Later note: Got home at 2:30 a.m. Saturday, thanks to weather-related delays. Great.]

-- Greg

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Greetings from 32,000 feet above somewhere between Newark, N.J., and Chicago, Illinois, where I'm headed off to recruit tomorrow at the Northwestern Law School -- still bearing my little album of baby Alex pictures, because my colleagues who I'll see in Chicago have insisted on seeing them. Twist my arm.

This isn't exactly Alex-related, but I'm sure that if she could read, she'd have a new face for this one -- probably something resembling a dumbfounded face, mouth agape with unhinged jaw. In the in-flight magazine here on United Airlines there appears a half-page ad next to the (already solved, darn it) Sudoku puzzle page that, I'm more than a little ashamed to say, caught my eye: "Outsource your love life to the Experts!!!" blares the heading of the ad, which appears next to a roughly shoulders-up picture of an attractive blond woman with a come-hither look on her face. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the comely lass might not be wearing anything, because no clothing, bra straps, or anything else can be spotted on her.

I tell you that to set the stage for what appears next in the ad. "Welcome to Model Quality Introductions, where upscale single men meet the most beautiful, fit, and intelligent women in the country." Let's take a closer look at the wording: first "beautiful," then "fit," then "intelligent." Clearly, their upscale single male clientele is expected to have their priorities straight.

What "MQI" is really about, it appears, can be summed up in the blurb that appears in boldface right across from Miss Come Hither's eyes: "If you are ready to settle down with an 8, 9, or 10 we need to talk." (I'm thinking that there are no additional points offered for "intelligent," if you remember the Bo Derek movie "10.")

And they certainly don't get extra points for being able to quote lines from "Raising Arizona," or being able to credibly argue, despite any actual evidence (e.g., dictionary entries) to support her position, that the word "dwadle" is a word, meaning something close to but not quite the same as "dawdle." If they gave extra points for all that, my beautiful wife would be at least a 15.

In addition, tonight she's Raising Alexandra on her own, for the first time (Nana went home today, and I'm out of town until midnight tomorrow). Obviously, I was lucky enough to have found "beautiful, fit, and intelligent" (and sarcastic, and loving, and a fabulous mother) in a bit more old-fashioned way, and I didn't have to pay MQI to procure her. To quote the husband (John Laroquette) to his wife (Christine Baranski), in the under-watched and too-quickly-cancelled NBC sitcom "Happy Family," "I love you more and more every day." (And if you understood the context of the quote, you'd know -- as Jane and I do -- that it's at least as snarky as it is sappy. Which describes us to a 't.')

Jane and Alex have their first shower coming up this Saturday at our house. I'm already making plans to escape. It's bad enough being outnumbered by women two-to-one. Imagine what it will be like when the ratio is more like 30-to-one.

-- Greg

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

So last night, Jane and I had grown-up time, for the first time in a while.

A little welcome-back dinner for our former summer associate and soon-to-be-colleague John Gore and his wife Kristina. We were joined by my colleagues Mike Fried, Jennifer Swize, and Tom Davis, and Tom's fiancee -- also named Jennifer. It was good to see the Gores again, as they've been spending the last year in Providence, R.I., where John was clerking for Judge Selya. Good dinner and good company at Ceiba. (Ceiba is catty-corner from the old Jones Day offices at 1450 G Street, N.W., but when we inhabited that space, what's now Ceiba was a Roy Rogers fast-food restaurant. It's hard to tell that now.)

Baby pictures were shown. We managed to avoid any discussion about Alex's bathroom habits.

This was also the longest time we've both been away from Alex together (a whopping four-and-a-half hours). And we returned home to find that she missed us so much and was so totally despondent that she wailed for four-and-a-half straight hours while under the care of Nana.

Kidding. Actually she ate and slept peacefully. Didn't miss us at all.

Can't say the same for us, though. While several of our dinner companions commented on our seeming restraint in not calling home to check on Alex, truth is that Jane called just before coming into the restaurant.

Now, we're just "chilling out" -- as the kids say -- watching TV in bed, Alex asleep on Jane's chest. And since I get to hold her as soon as I end this post, I'm declaring this post done.

-- Greg

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Comes the following from one of Alex's several suitors, Nicholas Nanna, on whom I bestowed a Wabash College baseball cap when his parents were here this past weekend (part of my early-recruitment program; I also gave Luke Stern the Wabash College mini-football that he had made a beeline to when he visited a couple of weeks ago):

Hi Greg, Jane and Alex,

These pictures were taken of me by a papparazzi outside of a popular inner-city dance club. The first one caught me off guard, and I am afraid the media will link me to my late-50-something mistress/grandma. In an effort to preserve my dignity and reputation as an upstanding diapered gentleman, I quickly tried to cover my face with my Wabash College hat (see second photo).

As you may or may not know, I have already been meeting with senior Wabash officials in an effort to integrate female students into the Wabash community. The old crusty deans of Wabash are reluctant to change, but they have been impressed with my 18-year plan . . . by which the first wave of really hot female students (Alex) begin attending classes in what will be my freshman year. I am taking an early stance against gender discrimination, particularly when it interferes with my personal night life. I will, at the same time however, campaign for the Wabash College golf course to remain un-integrated.

Of course, please remember, that Wabash is my "safety school". I really want to go to William & Mary, my dad's alma-mater.

-- Nicholas

Nicholas looks like he's gonna break a few hearts when his time comes. One of them had better not belong to my daughter. Capisce?

-- Greg

Monday, August 21, 2006

From Alexandra's official photographer (Mom, assisted by Nana), more pictures.

With the lei from Lauren -- we think she likes it!

Playing in the sunroom: looking in the mirror; tummy time.

Another bath picture.

--Jane

That'll teach me to brag about the effectiveness of the Karo syrup.

Alex is having a tough start to her night. "Wailing" might describe her present condition. And you know why. No amount of Daddy time is presently appeasing her, so Mom now has her and is walking the house with her; it seems to have been the first thing to calm her down since I got home this evening. Tonight, the magic touch belongs to Jane.

Maybe she can use that magic touch to coax one out of Alex.

You know, when we pull this website out in sixteen or seventeen years to perform a dramatic reading in front of Alex and her prom date, she's going to roll her eyes at us and ask why we were so obsessed with her bathroom functions. Here's why, honey (and I'm sorry way in advance of your prom for telling you this): It's what you do the most right now, aside from sleeping. And it's the most interactive time we have with her.

Playtime: 1-2 times daily.

Feedings: 6-8 times daily.

Diaper changes: c. 10 times daily.

Faced with those statistics, it makes "tummy time" even more attractive.

So let's not tarry any longer on the subject of my daughter's bathroom habits. Instead, let's talk about how this little girl has changed our lives in her first month on this Earth. For one, she's just about all I talk about -- at home, at work, with friends, and so on. (Same goes for Jane.) For another, it is the most unselfish thing that I have ever done in my life, being a father. It's not about me in any way, shape, or form -- it's about her. Sometimes when I wake up at night I go over different scenarios in my head where Alex is in danger, and in just about every one, I'm willing to put my health -- indeed, my life -- on the line for her. I'd do the same if Jane were in danger, but with Alex it's just different. If Jane were in danger, I know that, as a grown adult, she'd do whatever was necessary to protect herself, and I'd do whatever else was necessary to protect her.

But Alex is, at least presently, completely helpless. And that scares the bejesus out of me sometimes. Not just because I could do something stupid, like drop her -- after all, I've dropped glasses, pots of food, vases, Christmas ornaments -- you name it. And it does scare me that I could drop her, lose my grip, etc., but that's not the entirety of it. No, last night I dreamt that someone had stolen her from me at a shopping mall. Talk about waking up in a cold sweat.

So I won't be re-reading Ian McEwan's The Child in Time any time soon. I remember reading that otherwise marvelous book back in 1988 or 1989, and telling my former English Professor (and friend for life) Warren Rosenberg about it; I also remember Warren having a very visceral and negative reaction to my description of the first chapter, summarized thusly by Publishers Weekly: "The protagonist, Stephen Lewis, a successful author of children's books, is introduced to us in a scene more frightening than any from a horror novel: while he is shopping with Kate, his three-year-old daughter, the child is kidnapped. Stephen's mounting terror as he combs the store for Kate -- trying in vain to recall the face of the dark-clad stranger he glimpsed behind them -- is palpable." Almost 20 years later, I now understand that visceral reaction for the first time. Warren's daughter, Jessica, was perhaps six years old at the time. (And, as Warren and his wife Julia reminded me last month, "Remember, our Jessica was 2.1 pounds at birth, so compared to her Alexandra is a giant. You are beginning a wonderful adventure.")

Warren and Julia's adventure with their only child continues, as Jessica has obtained her B.A. from Oberlin, and is now pursuing a Ph.D. at Stanford. Following in her parents' footsteps in academia, but pursuing a doctorate in Religious Studies instead of English. Where Warren is a scholar in male Jewish images in literature and film, and has written a critically acclaimed book on the topic, Jessica is pursuing her doctorate in Jewish Studies and Orthodox Feminism.

Following in her parents' footsteps, yet cutting her own path at the same time. Sounds like a good wish for us to have for little Alex, who has now been quieted to sleep by her mother.

-- Greg

Sunday, August 20, 2006

We now have "tummy time" in our house.

Apparently, this is recommended by pediatricians and whatever books Jane is reading these days. It involves Alex being put on her stomach on a rug, mat, or the world's softest blanket, for about 30 minutes a day. And the main goal of tummy time is to get Alex to lift her head up; it is, in effect, the world's most boring exercise program.

I did tummy time with Alex today. As for me, it involved getting on my tummy, taking off my glasses, and getting my face up near hers. Jane says making "kissy" noises gets her to lift her head up. That didn't work for me. What did work was me blowing in her face -- she was so surprised that she lifted her head straight up off of the blanket. So I tried it a second time, and she lifted it up again. And a third, and a fourth, and so on -- all with the same results. After we did that about fifteen times, I pronounced "tummy time" over, and declared it a success.

Clearly, Alex suffered from the absence of my mad parenting skillz the last couple of days.

So anyway, it is about 7:30 p.m. here at the baby ranch, and we today received a visit from our neighbor Kim Ntome, who arrived bearing three new outfits for Alex. Beyond that, Alex's mom and I went out shopping for our (imminent) dinner at Wegman's -- the best grocery store ever -- and that's about all we've done. Why, you ask? Because -- and we just did the calculations on this one -- Alex has been (aside from tummy time) put down out of someone's arms for about ten whole minutes since she got up at 6 this morning. Jane, Nana, Dad, and Mrs. Ntome have all been holding her while sleeping, or awake.

And, you ask, as for the Karo syrup? Like corn through a goose. Like the Acela Express to New York -- departures on the hour, every hour.

-- Greg

More pictures of Alex, per the request of Papa, Alex's grandfather.

This is an old picture, from when my dad was here, of my parents trying to measure Alex. She did not want to cooperate, but we think she has grown a lot in the last few weeks.

Here she is napping on the couch with me, then "reading" the paper with Dad and Nana.

Yawning stylishly in her Vail/Mountain Baby hat and zebra skin blankie -- courtesy of her very stylish Aunt Janet (and Uncle Paul).

She is sleeping well -- one night a fabulous 5 hours in a row, but that has not been repeated. Still, we are happy to get three hours between bottles. She is starting to be really responsive, smiling at Mom and Dad (probably because she associates us with food, but whatever works). She has a few favorite toys -- the little red bird that hangs from her play gym, her mirror, and her musical lamb. She appears to like music and kissy noises. She loves her bath, although she is usually so relaxed she pees on me as we are drying her off. Luckily, she is young enough for this to be cute.

I've spent the last few days snuggling, washing bottles, changing clothes after bathing her, and getting the sunroom a little more baby-friendly. She may not have a nursery yet, but at least now she has a place for her toys and books, and can lounge around in the sun. A little paint, some curtains and a rug and this place will be perfect for hanging out. I won't let short notice keep me from decorating for a baby!

That's about all for today. Off to see what she is doing.

-- Jane

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Hi everybody! This is my first post ever, so bear with me as I learn the technology.

So, today's my one-month birthday. And to celebrate it, my father decided to come home from his "business trip." Yeah, I'm making "air quotes" with my fingers as I write "business trip," because if you read his post on the subject, it sounds a lot like more like it consisted of lunch, cocktails, dinner, and more cocktails, while surrounded by a bunch of people who have to be kind and admiring to him, and laugh at his stupid jokes, because they want a job with his Firm.

And as I write this, I just realized something about my own condition: I have to do the same with him, because he earns the money that buys my formula. So I'm pretty much in hell.

(Love the 'blog,' Dad! You're frickin' hysterical -- better than The Wiggles. Now can I have my bottle back?)

Anyway, we had the Nannas over for dinner tonight -- Christy and Greg, but not Nicholas. I keep hearing about this Nicholas character, because his parents and mine seem to be discussing the terms of some sort of arranged marriage between the two of us. If that's what it takes to get my diaper changed on a timely basis around here, I guess I'll go along with whatever plan they cook up, but I sure hope he isn't "Nicky Gold Chains" or the kind of dude who comes up to me and goes "Hey, babe -- howya doin'?" while flexing in his muscle-T onesie. I'm a simple girl; all I want is a man who has the sort of neck muscles that allow him to keep his head up without flopping over.

But I still haven't met Nicholas, because he couldn't be bothered to come over last night -- some lame excuse about "cutting a tooth." I wouldn't know anything about that.

At least I got to meet Nicholas's parents, Christy and Greg. They seem pretty cool. Well, his mom seems pretty cool; his dad was talking with my Dad about baseball cards and fantasy-football teams. So it looks like Nicholas and I may have something in common -- both of our fathers are named 'Greg,' and both of our fathers are dorks. My Dad was pointing out that he doesn't really even like fantasy football, but I don't think that really makes him any less of a dork than if he had his own Dungeons & Dragons character.

So I had dinner with my parents, my Nana, and the Nannas. Nana and Nannas. Snort. That's the sort of joke I would expect from my Dad. (Except he'd probably work in some sort of 'banana' reference for overkill.) They brought dinner to our house. I had the usual -- four ounces of lactose-free Similac and a couple of really good belches. The big people with teeth had beer-can chicken that Mr. Nanna cooked on their Weber grill, macaroni and cheese that Mrs. Nanna made, a Southwestern Caesar salad, and a blackberry pie that Mrs. Nanna also made. Made me wish I had already cut a few teeth myself.

In between eating and taking a tour of the house (I thought my Dad only did that with me), the big people passed me around like I was a football. Sometimes it's like a mosh pit around here.

-- Alex

Friday, August 18, 2006

I miss my girls.

But first: Greetings from the great State of Indiana, where I've been since early yesterday morning on a recruiting boondoggle for the Firm.

Yesterday was a long day: Started at home by getting up at 4:30 a.m. so I could get showered and dressed in time for a car that picked me up at 5:00 a.m. to take me to National Airport (I still can't quite get around to calling it "Reagan National") for a 6:55 a.m. flight to Indianapolis. Now, getting up at 4:30 a.m. never sounds particularly good to me, but it came especially quickly last night, since sleep didn't arrive at my doorstep until about 2:15 a.m.

Give you one guess why that was.

Yes, Wee One woke up around 12:30 a.m. for a new nappie and a bottle. She took about two and a half ounces of Similac Lactose-Free, gave a couple of un-ladylike burps, and then, after a little walk around the top floor, I put her back down in the bassinet to sleep. Well, that was the plan, anyway. After about fifteen minutes of fussing and fighting, I picked her back up out of the bassinet, and it was quite apparent that Sleepytime Girl was wide awake, and ready to play with Daddy.

I wonder if she sensed I was leaving, and wanted some extra awake time with me. Or maybe it was just my dumb, bad luck. Whatever the reason, the alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., and I was hating life on 135 minutes of sleep. Fortunately for me, I married well (see below for lots of evidence of that), and my wife -- who had just awakened to take care of another diapering/feeding break -- offered to go downstairs and get me a cup of coffee. Five extra minutes of sleep never actually helps, but during that five minutes, it is like I imagine heroin must feel like: the bestest, most perfectest thing in the world.

So eventually, once showered, shaved, and dressed, it was time to go. To go and leave my beautiful wife/mother combo and my almost perfect baby for the first time.

In a word: Sucked.

In two words: Really sucked.

Got to the airport in plenty of time, and a good thing, because I had to wait in line to check a small carryon-size bag because it had toothpaste and shaving gel in it. If this becomes a permanent condition of air travel, it would be a good idea for the airlines (or independent entrepreneurs) to put vending machines that sell travel sizes of toothpaste, shaving gel, hairspray, etc. right down at baggage claim. That way, flyers could pack carryon bags without the verboten liquids and gels and then, for a small additional cost, pick up the replacements right there at the airport. Perhaps this is how Alex's college tuition gets paid for.

Anyway. Landed in Indianapolis, ahead of schedule; got the rental car and headed for Bloomington. Met up for lunch with Dean Lauren Robel, Assistant Dean Dennis Long, Director of Recruitment Dani "The Dannie" Weatherford, and fellow Wabash board member and adjunct professor Scott Himsel, for a long-scheduled lunch to talk about Wabash students and law-school admission issues. (Okay, that was the agenda, but we started with baby pictures. Lauren all but threatened me with banishment from the law school's alumni board had I not brought pictures. Fortunately, Jane sent me with her pink photo album, which was a handsome accoutrement for a grey pinstripe Brooks Brothers suit.)

After lunch, I went and checked into my hotel room at the Indiana Memorial Union, in the hopes of getting a nap. Failed. Kept wanting to look at the photo album myself.

Eventually, headed over to The Irish Lion for the reception with the kids we would be interviewing the next day. At 6:05 p.m. (five minues after the scheduled start for our reception, I was the only Jones Day lawyer there. The Chicago boys eventually arrived -- McNulty, fellow new dad Bob Joseph, and Joel May -- muttering something about not realizing Indiana was now on Eastern time all year round. (This would turn out to be a theme of our visit; for a small fee, Tom, I say no more.) Himsel's firm, Baker & Daniels, was also having a reception at the Lion (and some of the students were interviewing with both firms -- AWK-ward). I hope it was not lost on the students which reception was attended not just by students, but by most of the administration and a goodly amount of the faculty of the School of Law. I was accompanied by the pink photo album, and everyone wanted to see Alex. Everyone remarked on just how beautiful she was; our older ("longer-time" friends is what I mean, but they're also -- like us -- "older") friends also remarked on how happy they were for all of us. Lauren brought a gift for me -- a lei made of real tea leaves and something purply-pink (hibiscus? Jane will know, as I'm taking it home to her) -- and made me wear it as I greeted the hopeful interviewees. She also took a photo of me (wearing the lei) with her cell phone and attempted to send it to Jane. If it was successful, you'll probably see it here later.

Then the Jones Day group -- including Corey and Charles (our two successful Jones Day recruits from last year); their girlfriends; and honorary ("we're with the band") Jones Day folks Tim Boeglin, Cindy Reichard, and Michael Keller (who has as Assistant Dean whipped that Career Services offices into a machine that is humming on all cylinders) repaired to Restaurant Tallent. (As soon as we got there, Jane called so that I could say good-night to her and to a particular munchkin who has invaded my home for the next 18+ years). This place -- Restaurant Tallent -- was awesome; probably the best restaurant to inhabit Bloomington since a certain father of mine closed the door on his last Bloomington restaurant in 1985. Tom McNulty bought a couple of bottles of Prosecco to toast the newest addition to the extended Jones Day family -- little Alexandra Rachel. (He also ordered several bottles of Vouvre, Chianti, and Petite Syrah to round out the beverage portion of our evening.) For my part, I had (to accompany the wines) an Indiana heirloom tomato appetizer, an Indiana lamb loin entree, and a bizzare but delicious dessert -- two thick slices of more Indiana heirloom tomatoes, topped with a basil semifreddo, in turn topped with a sweet sorbet made of heirloom tomatoes. I doubt Dad would have allowed that on his dessert menu (folks weren't quite that experimental in the 1980s; the dessert that captured most of his customers' attention then was the "Frogette" -- a giant cream puff dipped in dark chocolate, and filled with a milk chocolate mousse).

At about midnight we broke, and the more responsible of us returned to our hotel rooms to catch some sleep before our interviews started at 8 a.m. Friday.

Friday was a bit of a blur -- 22 interviews (allegedly 20 minutes each, but Tom's and my Statler and Waldorf act, which has been running since 1999, takes a little longer than 20 minutes, so we were perpetually behind by as much as 40 minutes). After we were done, we met up with Len Fromm, an Indiana Law legend who has been Dean of Students there since -- well, for a long time. We did that at -- where else? -- Nick's.

(No alpacas were harmed in the telling of this story.)

After a long, painful, and road-construction-riddled drive up to the north side of Indianapolis, I met up with my brother and my Dad for a quick, late dinner; Rich immediately pointed out that it was the first time that "the three Dads" had ever sat at the same table. And I got to see Rich and Nelle's really cool big new house, and spend a few minutes with Nelle, and nieces and nephews Amber, Cleo, and Jack. I mistakenly said that Amber was a new "aunt"; she quickly and properly corrected me that she is, in fact, Alex's sixteen-years-older cousin. You'd think I would know better than that.

While I've enjoyed showing off pictures of Alex, I can't wait until I can come back and show off Alex herself.

And I can't wait to get home. I miss Mommy and Boo-Boo.

-- Greg

Thursday, August 17, 2006

Jane here, Greg is traveling. So, without further ado, here are new pictures of Alex.

Sleeping in the sunroom, on "the world's softest blanket."

Talking to my duckie, trying to catch that octopus (see me pushing with my toes!), reading a book.


First trip to the farmer's market
(I am so small I am peeking through the armhole of the Baby Bjorn).

Mom just loves bath pictures - how embarassing.

Napping with my Nana.

--Jane

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Disclaimer: Jane had nothing to do with this post. She made me put that here.

And, just so you have a sense of what's coming next, Jane is holding Alex "Boo-Boo" Castanias in her arms, feeding her, and gently intoning this to her: "Your Daddy is going to write something embarassing about you. It's not even the first time, already. It isn't going to be the last, either. This is the sort of thing we're going to have to have a dramatic reading of before you and your date leave for the prom. Go ahead and practice saying it: 'Oh, Dad, stop it. You're embarassing me in front of my friends.' " (If Jane calls her "Boo-Boo" in front of her prom date, it'll be "Oh, Mom, stop it . . . .")

So here goes. Tonight's first topic: Karo Syrup.

"Life's Sweetest Little Secret," goes their trademarked slogan. Today, though, it's "Baby's Little Helper." Remember a couple of days ago, when we told you about the new third cry that wasn't "I'm hungry" or "I soiled myself again"? Yes, that's right, it was "I'm stopped up." Well, the pediatrician advised that a little Karo syrup would, ahem, make the trains run on time.

And so it came to pass (pun intended) that Alex's diet today expanded to twice its original size: Similac, and now Karo.

And indeed, the trains left the station on their regular schedule.

I can't fault (or even make fun of) my bride for calling the pediatrician about Karo syrup. There are two reasons for that. Reason number one is the Karo website itself, which was clearly written by lawyers. Here's what it says in the FAQs about giving Karo to babies:

Q. Should Karo syrup be used for infant feeding?

A. We are aware that some health care professionals suggest feeding Karo syrup to infants in a formula or for relief of constipation. Because corn syrup, like many other foods is not a sterile product, there is a remote possibility that it may contain C. botulinum spores.

These spores are common in the environment and generally not harmful to older children and adults. In fact, in the FDA study conducted in 1991, corn syrup and other syrups are not identified as food sources of C. botulinum spores for infants.

However, because Karo is not specifically intended for infant feeding, we suggest you consult your pediatrician for advice.

Let me translate this for you, sentence-by-sentence: "Karo will help relieve baby constipation. But it might kill your child. Even so, Karo is as safe as water. But hey, if you decide to give it to your kid, don't blame us -- that's your doctor's fault."

Thanks, Karo! Apparently, as the cover to this 1949 cookbook demonstrates, babies can cook with it, naked and with impunity (as long as they wear a baby chef's hat and apron, and socks), but they can't eat it without consulting a doctor and a lawyer.

Reason number two that I can't make fun of Jane for calling the pediatrician? Because today, while eating lunch at my desk between advising multinational companies on litigation strategy, I Googled "baby constipation" on the Internet.

Enough said on that topic.

Tomorrow, I leave on my first business trip since Alex was born. I am so unexcited about the prospect of leaving her behind that I can't even express myself on the subject. On the bright side, it's a recruiting trip, to my alma mater, Indiana Law, and I'm looking forward to seeing my friends from our Chicago office, as well as my friends from the administration and faculty at Indiana -- especially since I'll have photos to share with them!

I fear for the bright-eyed recruits I'll be interviewing on Friday, however. They'll have only twenty minutes to convince my friend and partner Tom McNulty and me that they're Jones Day material; but first, they'll have to hear eighteen minutes on the topic of "Greg Castanias, [who thinks he's] the first man ever to be the father of a baby daughter." (Or, as Washington Post humor columnist Gene Weingarten might say, "But first, a little roo-roo.")

Karo, Boo-Boo, poo-poo, and roo-roo. Just another day in paradise.

-- Greg

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

More photos of Boo-Boo!

Got to go get my hair cut today for the first time in a long time -- before Alex thinks her Dad is in a band or something. Then, I think I'll try this working thing again today.

More later.

-- Greg

A little information about the significance of names and birthdays.

Alexandra, which is of Greek origin, means "protector of mankind." It was the 37th most popular baby-girl name in the United States in 2005, according to the Social Security Administration. (It was the 542nd most popular name for a baby girl in 1965, the year your Dad was born.)

Rachel, which is of Hebrew origin, means "innocent lamb," or "one of purity." Interestingly, it was the 38th most popular baby-girl name in the United States in 2005, according to the SSA.

Castanias, which is also of Greek origin, means "chestnut."

Born on July 19, Alex's astrological sign is Cancer the Crab. In the Chinese zodiac, 2006 is the Year of the Dog. Supposedly, those born in the Year of the Dog

possess the best traits of human nature. They have a deep sense of loyalty, are honest, and inspire other people's confidence because they know how to keep secrets. But Dog People are somewhat selfish, terribly stubborn, and eccentric. They care little for wealth, yet somehow always seem to have money. They can be cold emotionally and sometimes distant at parties. They can find fault with many things and are noted for their sharp tongues. Dog people make good leaders. They are compatible with those born in the Years of the Horse, Tiger, and Rabbit.

Whatever.

On July 19 (Alex's birthday) --

July 19 is the 200th day of the year (except in leap years, when it is the 201st).

On July 19, 1553, 15-year-old Lady Jane Grey, "The Nine Day Queen," was deposed as Queen of England after claiming the crown for only nine days. King Henry VIII’s daughter, Mary, was then proclaimed Queen.

On July 19, 1799, French troops in Egypt discovered the Rosetta Stone, a slab of rock inscribed with three ancient languages that allowed researchers about 20 years later to translate the hieroglyphics of ancient Egypt.

On July 19, 1848, the first Women's Rights Convention was held in Seneca Falls, NY.

On July 19, 1941, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill launched his “V for Victory” campaign in Europe.

On July 19, 1943, Allied air forces raided Rome during World War II. (Alex's Papou, Jess, was a B-17 pilot for the U.S. Army Air Corps in the European Theatre.)

On July 19, 1969, Apollo 11 and its astronauts, Neil Armstrong, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin and Michael Collins, went into orbit around the moon. (They would be the first men to land on the moon the very next day, which was also your late Great Aunt Anne's birthday.)

On July 19, 1984, U.S. Rep. Geraldine A. Ferraro, D-N.Y., won the Democratic nomination for vice president by acclamation at the party’s convention in San Francisco.

On July 19, 2005, Judge John Roberts was nominated to succeed the retiring Justice Sandra Day O'Connor on the U.S. Supreme Court. (He was later re-nominated to become Chief Justice, succeeding the late Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist.)

Born on this date: Alexandra Rachel Castanias (2006); tennis player Ilie Nastase (1946); politician George McGovern (1922); philosopher Herbert Marcuse (1898); surgeon and clinic founder Charles Horace Mayo (1865); accused murderer Lizzie Borden (1860); painter Edgar Degas (1834); and gun inventor and manufacturer Samuel Colt (1814).

-- Greg

Monday, August 14, 2006

In case anyone had any doubts, Jane is the webmaster.

And I am the gatekeeper.

This website is entirely Jane's design and effort. She's had some help from her Dad, and from our friend Cason, whose job description should be "elf." (Not just because he makes toys, which he does, but because he's a creative genius in a lot of arenas, including web design. He made the cake-topper for our wedding, which can be seen here. I know he'd prefer that I refer to him as a "creative evil genius," but he's really not all that evil. He just wishes he were evil. I have those days, too.)

Anyway, I was once again reminded that, as between the two of us, my bride (said webmaster) is the techie in my family: I promised days ago to get the photo of Peggy's bridge grandmothers up on the web as soon as I could get the photo scanned. And by "get the photo scanned," I really meant "get Jane to scan the photo." Because we have a scanner and software to do the job, but I don't know how to use either one, let alone both of them together. In fact, there's some doubt I would even identify the right piece of equipment as the 'scanner.' I do know that it's located in her office upstairs, so I might be able to narrow it down a bit more than I otherwise would. ("Is this the scanner, hon?" "No, that's the waffle iron.")

Scanning a photo hasn't exactly been a priority around here lately. Huh. Wonder why? But Alex decided to wake Mommy up around 5:00 this morning (apparently, I didn't give her quite enough Similac at the 4:00 a.m. feeding and (code yellow and code brown) diaper change, so she woke Mommy up right after I had re-entered the Land of Nod). So, Jane got a few things done on the computer once Alex went back to sleep. One of those things was scanning the bridge-club photo into a digital format. So, finally, here it is, with an assist from my baby daughter:

What a nice gift for Alex. The ladies with whom she spent her first Sundays. And they are ladies, too: Note that each of them is very properly dresssed; they have proper cloths on the bridge tables; and they are drinking out of proper crystal glasses. I hope that Alex decides to take after them in that way.

Oh, and the "culprit" who sent the unidentified KU cheerleader outfit for Alex has finally been identified, and it turns out not to have been one of our initial suspects. It was, of all people, my Bobby Knight-and-Texas Tech-loving brother, Rich, who swallowed his Big 12 loyalty to another team to send Alex a KU gift (KU's her Mom's alma mater; in fact, that's where Jane herself was born, owing to the fact that her parents -- the aforementioned Nana and Papa -- were students at KU when Jane was born). Rich pointed out when he called us yesterday that he bought the outfit in "age 3-6 months" size because that's how old Alex will be when basketball season starts. What a smart guy.

Speaking of other things that haven't exactly been a priority around here, I haven't worked a full day for three weeks. That changes today. I caught up on some things yesterday, here at the home office, but I really have to get to my office at the law firm today. I'll never be a completely successful telecommuter -- and certainly not with a baby in the house!

-- Greg

I have found the excuse di tutti excuses for procrastination. It's a new baby.

Over the last few weeks, I've kept up on the truly essential, time-sensitive stuff (post-trial briefs; briefs with impending due dates; timesheets at the end of July), but I've "triaged" away a few less-pressing things. And when I've called the folks to let them know why I haven't returned their calls or e-mails, or sent them a memo I promised, they immediately forget what I was calling about and want to hear all about the new baby.

Too bad I won't be able to play this card for much longer. Otherwise, I'll risk being "The Boy Who Cried 'Baby.'" Or like Corporal Klinger from M*A*S*H, who claimed about sixteen different deaths of his four grandparents in his continued effort to get Section 8-ed out of the Army. ("Just how many children did you adopt this month, Castanias?") So I'd better get cracking on the things I've left undone.

But enough about work.

Did I tell you that Jane has taken to calling Alex "Boo-Boo"? When I asked her why, Jane reasoned, "Because she just looks like a 'Boo-Boo.'" So now I find myself calling her "Boo-Boo." For no good reason whatsoever.

Other developments du jour: More Baby Booty arrived here today, courtesy of the Kansas City Hutchinsons (they have a better record than the Royals this year), the Pittsburg Richeys (also having a better year than the Pittsburgh Pirates, but not quite as good as Pirates of the Caribbean), and the Wichita Rosses (who are in a league of their own). Our friend Dana came over this afternoon (I was working, drat it all, so I missed her visit) bearing lots of stuff that her 16-month-old son -- and prom-date candidate -- Daniel, has outgrown (such as a second Baby Papesan, which now gives us the privileged existence of having one for each floor that we do any living on). And Jane, in the course of a shopping trip for gifts for other people, somehow stumbled across an end-of-season sale at Macy's, where she picked up something like 175 new baby outfits for $30. (At least that's what she told me. But I get the credit-card statements.)

And in the department of credit cards comes this sympathy note from Craig Richey, via e-mail from Julie: "He says to send his condolences to your Visa card and to tell you that daughters are financial black holes, just like wives, but they are so worth it!!" So true.

But I mentioned that Jane was on a shopping trip for other people. That's worth mentioning here, because it shows just how far "up" I married (there's no question I married well, but this shows you just how well). I never saw the movie "Pay it Forward," but I get the concept. As described on the website of the Pay It Forward Foundation:

Reuben St. Clair, the teacher and protagonist in the book “Pay It Forward,” starts a movement with this voluntary, extra-credit assignment: THINK OF AN IDEA FOR WORLD CHANGE, AND PUT IT INTO ACTION. Trevor, the 12-year-old hero of “Pay It Forward,” thinks of quite an idea. He describes it to his mother and teacher this way: "You see, I do something real good for three people. And then when they ask how they can pay it back, I say they have to Pay It Forward. To three more people. Each. So nine people get helped. Then those people have to do twenty-seven." He turned on the calculator, punched in a few numbers. "Then it sort of spreads out, see. To eighty-one. Then two hundred forty-three. Then seven hundred twenty-nine. Then two thousand, one hundred eighty-seven. See how big it gets?"

So my bride is out today, putting together a "New and Sudden Adoptive Parent Care Package" for Joe and Sara Emmick, who, as regular readers of this website know, just adopted their son Will last week. (We're banking on two things here: One, that the Emmicks have no time to be reading other peoples' websites; and two, that no one else will tell them about this.) Seeing that we are experienced parents now (all of twelve days' worth), Jane is putting together a box of essentials that new parents with little or no warning need, and she'll send it off to them out in Indiana tomorrow.

This is in the spirit of "Pay it Forward." We've been so blessed -- that's really the best word for it -- with generous gifts, loans of stuff, dinners (and several so-far-unredeemed offers of dinner) that it only seems appropriate for us to "pay forward" a little bit of that generosity and love. It's a small gesture, but it's a twin gesture -- one of love and welcome for Will, and one of thanks to our many friends, who were the real inspiration for this gesture.

As for the so-far-unredeemed offers of dinner: We plan on cashing in every single one of them. Your time is coming.

-- Greg

Sunday, August 13, 2006

As best as I can tell, the biggest contribution that visiting grandparents make in the first few weeks of a child's life is this: They'll hold their grandchild so you don't have to.

Okay, that's not entirely fair. Last night, Nana Hutchinson (a/k/a Anne, also a/k/a Jane's Mom) also made dinner, and she's already put tonight's dinner into the Crock Pot(TM). (Here I was going to say something about how Crock Pots are actually great cooking tools, even for those of us who fancy ourselves as amateur chefs, and how they aren't really a vestige of the 1970s, avocado-colored kitchen appliances, and shag carpeting. In short, what I was going to say was that there's a place for Crock Pots in even the most elegant households; they're not just for NASCAR fans. But then I found this on the Crock-Pot website. So never mind.)

Seriously, though, it has been a great help having Nana and Papa here. Friday, when Jane and I went out to buy the furniture for Alex's room, we were able to go out and have lunch before we started our shopping trip -- just the two of us, for the first time since Alex arrived here. As luck would have it, one of our neighbors was leaving the shopping area as we were leaving, hand-in-hand, from lunch, and she rolled down her window and shouted at us, "Where's that beautiful baby of yours?"

I almost said, "Oh, shoot. We left her in the restaurant. Again." But it's probably bad form to have the child-welfare authorities visiting your house only a week or so after your new daughter arrives home.

So Alex. What about her? Well, aside from the fact that I am now the fourth-most-likely person in my house to be holding her at any given moment, she continues making her early reputation as an easy baby. Well, except for a couple of hours yesterday afternoon, when she could only be pacified for a few minutes at a time, in between squirminess, general fussiness, and some crying. Neither of the usual two meanings of Alex crying (1-input; 2-outgo) applied yesterday, so we think it might have been a new option (3-baby constipation). We're not pediatricians, and we don't play them on TV, but the two of us and our collective fourteen years of higher education concluded that the ratio of outgo was not proportionate to the increasing (3-4 ounces at a time) input. So: A little Mylicon, a little walking around the house while talking with Daddy (see when I get to hold her?), a little song, a little dance, a little load dropped in her pants . . . and presto: Happy baby. Score one for Mom and Dad. We sussed that one out without any prior experience.

Also, Alex got another bath this morning; this one was the first bath not recorded on film. I think she is actually enjoying them. And the fact that we didn't feel the need to preserve this bathtime in photos suggests that we are beginning to get into a rhythm.

But we do have bath photos from her previous bath. In fact, we've got a lot of new ones. So without further ado --

Here are a couple of Alex sleeping. In the first one, she's laughing in her sleep; in the second, she's holding on to Jane's finger (I don't get French nails, which is how I could tell it was Jane and not me).

Here are a couple of Alex playing with her parents (maybe "toying with her parents" is more apt).

Nana and Papa brought Alex a little lamb that plays -- surprise -- "Mary Had a Little Lamb." She is mesmerized by it.

Here are a couple of Alex being held in our sunroom -- first by Nana, then by Mom.

Here's one of Alex getting a bottle from her Nana (grandmother).

And one of Alex being held by her "Papa" (grandfather).

And a couple of Alex with her Dad (dad).

How about more bath photos?

This one is from yesterday afternoon, in one of her more peaceful interludes during the several difficult hours she had. She's actually using one of the pacifiers that Aunt Janet sent with Nana and Papa (she's not been a big pacifier baby so far), and as you can see, she's holding onto two of my fingers for dear life.

And lastly, Alex finds herself down for the count, pinned by one of her new toys. She was more happy than the picture suggests.

-- Greg

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Both Jane and I got up for the 2:00 a.m. diaper change and feeding. Only one of us got back to sleep.

That one wasn't me.

So, while my bride and my new baby slumber away upstairs, I'm in the family room, watching some TV (thank God for TiVo) and sorting through the day in my mind.

We know, from the e-mails we receive, that a lot of our friends and family are reading these updates. A few are even enjoying them. And while that's gratifying, that's not the only reason we're writing these things. It's also so Alex, when she's older, has a little chronicle of her first days and weeks and how it affected her parents and all those around her.

So anyway: Alex wakes up at 2 (after about four and a half hours of uninterrupted sleep -- good girl!), and we both get up. I take her and immediately feel the telltale signs of dampness, which means not only a diaper change but also a pajama change. So while Mom mixes up a bottle for her, I start the process of undressing, undiapering, rediapering, and redressing her in fresh PJs. Only thing is, she's extra fussy at this hour, so she's whining and not cooperating. The only person who can take care of what she needs is Mom, and that's because she has the magic bottle. So there I am, trying to get a new diaper and jammies on her while Mom holds a bottle in her mouth. This is not an easy task. And it is made infinitely more complicated by the fact that little Alex is stretching her legs out as straight as they can go. In case it is not apparent, when Alex does this, she makes it nigh impossible to actually get a diaper on her, as there isn't room between her legs for the bulk of the diaper.

Eventually, we get it on her, and Mom goes back to bed -- which leaves Alex and me our private time. After Suck-O-Lux(TM) drains the full four ounces, we go for a walk around the top floor of the house. That's become one of our little private traditions -- we walk into each of the rooms, and I tell her what the room is (e.g., "This is your room, and it has the best view of the sunset in the house.").

Speaking of Alex's room. Her Mom and I dropped a small chunk of change at Buy Buy Baby today, for a crib, a dresser with changing table, and a rocker-recliner for feeding, reading stories, and so on. (The rocker-recliner is for us to sit in while holding her.) If all goes well, we'll have those here in eight weeks; if not, twelve weeks. For now, the bassinet is more than sufficient.

It's about a quarter past four now, and thanks to TiVo I've now been through all of this week's Monk and most of this week's Psych (thank God also for the USA Network, which -- unlike the rest of the TV world -- actually puts out some original programming during the summertime). About all that I've seen on TV since we got back from Colorado has been Monk, Psych, and Entourage. Once I make it through the rest of this show, I'm going to try to get a little more sleep.

I used to think "sleeping like a baby" meant sleeping soundly. I was wrong.

-- Greg

Friday, August 11, 2006

Another night with a 5 hour chunk of sleep time! Yippee!

Although I am informed by the parenting handbook sent by my Aunt Janet, "The Three Martini Playdate," that talking about how well your baby sleeps is either irrelevant and therefore uninteresting to some people, or, to those who also have small children, unwise: "do not share this joyful news, for your own safety." So, no more daily sleep updates. For those of you who are following this issue closely and cannot stand the supense, just send me an e-mail -- I'll get around to answering them in, say, a month or so.

My parents arrived yesterday, having successfully divested their carry on luggage of dangerous toiletries. My mother, who is the lightest packer I know, arrived with two bags -- one for her, and one filled with presents for Alex from friends and family in Wichita. Perfect timing, as yesterday was our one week "anniversary" as parents, so we celebrated that as well as Nana and Papa's arrival (pictures below).

On to the photos. We have been getting complaints that no new photos have been posted for a while (something about "stop rambling and post the good stuff.") Rest assured that I have been taking pictures; I was just skeptical of the true level of interest in pictures of Alex sleeping, followed by more pictures of Alex sleeping, and so on. While we think she is extraordinarily cute, we have not lost sight of the possibility that to others she looks like . . . a baby, well, sleeping. But by popular demand -- we give you: photos of Alex sleeping!!!

Meeting Nana and Papa:

Happy 1 week anniversary! (Alex says "Hey, how come my mom ate my cupcake???")

-- Jane

The duel comes next.

When I woke up this morning, these e-mails were on my BlackBerry:

Yo Greg,

This is Nicholas speaking through my obese interpreter. Send word to this Bill Emmick lump that Alexandra is spoken for. His dad may be smart, but my dad can eat a pound and a half of meat in one sitting.

I have enjoyed seeing pictures of Alex on the web site. Tell her I think she looks good in the yellow ducky towel. My favorite shot is the one of her sleeping . . . all cocooned in her pink blanket. Tell that photographer guy that Alex does not need "artsy" shots. Those shots are for ugly babies.

Anyway, my dad wants to get back on the computer to pay bills and get some work done, so I have to go.

Give Jane a kiss and a burp for me.

-- Nicholas

And this reply:

Dear Nicholas,

I knew you would like the cheesecake bath photos. Just for you, big fella. Just for you.

Please advise of your, your mother's, and your obese emanuensis's general availability to come over to our abode to share a dinner and some good company. I think I heard my parents even talking about this weekend, or sometime next week.

Oops. Just s[oil]t my pants again. Gotta go.

Waaaaaaaaaaa.

Alex

(Dictated but not read)

Apparently, the little keys on the BlackBerry are just the right size for baby fingers.

-- Greg

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Alex slept five and a half hours in a row last night. You would think that that meant Mommy also slept five and a half hours in a row last night.

You would be wrong. I got up every half hour to make sure she was still breathing. I assume I will get over this.

My parents are coming in today to meet Alex. She is very excited to meet Nana and Papa.

Today, Alex has been with us for one week. You will see pictures of the celebration tomorrow. (We have cupcakes!)

-- Jane

Nana and Papa Hutchinson picked a heck of a day to fly on a plane.

They're coming in through Dallas, and they just called to update us with the news that (mirabile dictu) they are on time for an early-afternoon arrival. At the same time, Nana reported that the folks at TSA made the passengers in front of them in the security line mix the powdered baby formula with the bottled water, since liquids that aren't baby formula or medicine (like bottled water) are presently banned on U.S. flights.

I shudder to think about our flight last Friday, and how much more difficult this is going to make air travel with young children -- which (based on my extensive experience to date of one flight with a perfectly behaved, mostly sleeping infant) wasn't exactly easy to start with.

I'm getting better at typing with my right hand while holding Alex in my left arm. Right now, she is doing her best Lon Chaney "Baby of a Thousand Faces" routine. She seems to be trying out different looks to see what my reaction will be to each.

If she could read this, she'd learn that three faces really get to me right now -- the "baby bird" (open mouth, as though waiting for a worm), the "fish" (pretty much self-explanatory, with the tongue curled between the lips), and anything resembling a smile at Daddy.

-- Greg

Today's mail brought -- aside from three boxes bearing gifts from the Heinonen and Karastelev families, and from Jane's friends at RESOLVE -- a card from Ft. Worth, Texas. That's right -- from Peggy's bridge club. The card was signed by Peggy, Mary, Vicki, Alma, Alice, Nell, Jimmie, and Margaret, who identified themselves collectively as "The Sunday Bridge Grandmothers." The bridge players added messages, such as "To the future bridge player," "To a sweet baby and wonderful parents," and "Remember TCU Purple."

Best of all, they enclosed a photo for Alex. All eight of them -- four at a bridge table; the other four standing behind. (And Peggy's pouring a glass of wine in the photo. This is my kind of bridge club.) When we get it scanned, ladies, that picture's going up on the website -- just so you're warned.

Peggy is a big TCU backer, as she mentioned in her last note to us. Between her and Jimmie (I hope I'm reading the handwriting correctly; since Peggy reads this site regularly, she'll correct me if I've misread it), they seem intent on recruiting Alex to the TCU class of 2028. At the same time, ladies, please be warned that the Heinonens' gifts included a book, My First Kansas Words: Go Jayhawks.

Since Alex is by gender disqualified from attending my alma mater, Wabash College, perhaps we can start a little game. The first contestants are the Horned Frogs and the Jayhawks. Let's play . . .

Who Wants To Pay My Daughter's College Tuition?

Anyone else with an alma mater who wants to play in subsequent rounds, just send us an e-mail. We'll be more than happy to enter you in the sweepstakes. Entry fee is a year's tuition.

-- Greg

Wednesday, August 9, 2006

I'm thinking about getting one of those helmets that hold beer cans so I can drink my coffee in the morning while holding Alex and feeding her. (You know, you've seen the doofuses wearing them at football games, like this.)

Speaking of feeding, two ounces per feeding is no longer enough for Alex. Now we're going for three or even four ounces each time.

Lots of sympathetic responses to Jane's post from yesterday about the trip to the pediatrician. And lots of positive feedback on Julie Richey's Myths and Facts About Babies (including one that called them "right on!").

So, as promised, here's a portion of another e-mail from friends offering their advice on babies. This one is from Christy and Greg Nanna, parents of the aforementioned Nicholas, age eight months (almost), who is probably growing his pencil-thin mustache and tucking his bottle of Baby Binaca into the waist of his diaper in preparation for his first meeting with Alex.

I also felt compelled to explain where the earlier reference (August 4, 12:30 p.m. update) to "Butt Paste" and "Dewar's" came from. Without explanation, it seems, how shall I say, seriously wrong. In 37 states. (I added hyperlinks to the e-mail.)

You should also know that Nicholas arrived in Greg and Christy's lives with about as much warning as Alex gave us.

So here it is.

We learned a few things over the last few months and we wanted to let you know which of the “baby supplies” are useful.

With our first son, we had absolutely nothing and we were fine. So, when it comes down to it, you really just need each other.

With Nicholas, Christy has done extensive research, personal interviews, and market studies on all products that were remotely related to babies. Here are her findings, as written by an idiot husband. This is her list of NEWBORN stuff.

You do not need all of this stuff right away. Remember that you will have a shower and people are dying to give you stuff. Let them.

Necessities:

The POWDER FORMULA MULTI-SERVING plastic containers. This allows you to store the formula in powder form. The container holds up to three bottles’ worth of powder. This is huge. You then can prepare three bottles with water in them and then travel. When she gets hungry, just dump the powder into a bottle of water and feed. No microwave, hot water, or cold packs. IF YOU DO NOTHING ELSE, DO THIS.

Mylicon ---> This is an over-the-counter baby safe gas-reduction medication. Get some.

Car seat and stroller ---> We bought the Britax Companion and travel system. The big feature here was the inflatable side of head protection thing that kept his head from slumping over as we drove. The removable base was great for taking Nicholas out for dinner because he would fall asleep in the car and then we just carry him in. The down side is that he outgrew it in four months and then we had to get a bigger toddler car seat. Peg Perego makes good car seats and strollers too. We have the Pliko.

Bottles ---> we love Dr. Brown’s, gas reduction; I have started drinking beer out of them. Get lots of them; load up on the 8 ouncers because she will outgrow the 4 ouncers quickly.

Gowns ---> easy to change the diaper without messing with buttons or zippers.

Sleep Sacks ---> Easy bedtime wear. The swaddle blankets suck. Do not be fooled by their shiny packaging.

Cloth Diapers ---> Use them for burp cloths, spills, vomit, whatever…. Just don’t use them as diapers.

Pacifiers ---> Silicon, not latex.

Butt Paste ---> A baby with an irritated caboose is a crying baby.

Diapers and wipes ---> In the beginning, the BEST ones are Pampers Swaddlers because they fit little babies really well. No leaks.

Baby Papesan ---> This is a vibrating bird’s nest that holds them in a position that makes them want to sleep. Nicholas slept in his at night until he was ready for the bassinet; we bought ours in Texas and it was a life-saver. Newborns need a few weeks to transition into the bassinet. This will get you to that point. We used until about two months ago, when he became able to crawl out of it and throw it at us.

Papesan swing ---> When he was really little, it was too fast for him. But once he got a little older, it became an instrument of peace in our house. Swings side to side and front to back. Shaped like the Baby Papesan, this is very sturdy with music that does not annoy Christy.

Bassinet ---> The First Years’ 5-in-1 Sleep System; It is on wheels with a basket for supplies; it has a changing station; the sleeping part of it lifts off and can be carried anywhere. The sides are mesh so breathing is easy. The canopy has dangling mobile stuff and it plays music and nature sounds.

Scotch ---> I recommend Dewar’s 12. I had this at a basketball game once and it was fine.

As you can see, our friends are very funny people. They are also great friends.

I think I need a Butt Paste baseball hat. As the site says, I'll bet I would "be the only one with this cool cap."

-- Greg

FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions) from regular readers of this site:

Q. You two getting any sleep?

A. Surprisingly, yes. Alex is usually good for three hours at a time.

Q. Is Greg actually doing anything besides writing most of the posts?

A. Actually, yes. Among other things, he is taking turns with Jane on the night feedings, and they have staggered their sleep schedules so that each of them is getting at least six hours uninterrupted sleep. (Which for Greg is more than he usually gets.)

Q. What do you need?

A. Nothing, and everything. Our friends and family have already been way too generous in what they have lent and given; it seems like everything but gold, frankincense, and myrrh have arrived via UPS. (That said, we don't want to deprive you of the joy of giving the Baby Alex a token of your affection!)

Q. Who sent Alex the cute Kansas Jayhawk cheerleader outfit with the matching shoes?

A. Actually, that's our question. We don't know -- though we have our suspicions. The shipping company neglected to put a card or slip in the box. Come forward, culprits!

Q. Weren't you adopting a teenager?

A. [speechless]

Q. What are your plans for Alex when she becomes a teenager?

A. Aunt Debbie's Paramilitary School for Teenagers in Neenah, Wisconsin.

Q. What's the real story about Joyce?

A. Don't get us started.

Q. Have you two toilet-papered a Babies 'R' Us yet?

A. No, but we're seriously thinking about it.

Q. Are you registered anywhere?

A. Yes.

Q. Okay, smart guy. Where are you registered?

A. Not at Babies 'R' Us.

Q. Sheesh. Every crowd's gotta have one. You want to tell us where you are registered?

A. Not really. That seems like begging for gifts. But you're smart; you'll figure it out.

-- Greg

Tuesday, August 8, 2006

I am such a wuss.

If new-mom-type epiphany stories make you want to throw up, my suggestion is to skip to the next post. However, since this site has become a bit of a "share our thoughts and feelings" place (more Raising Arizona lingo) and because we have many friends in various stages of waiting to adopt, I decided to share the experience of our first trip to the doctor.

First of all, I was feeling a little too cocky going in. We'd had a great night, sleeping 3 hours between feedings. I had a list of recommended pediatricians arranged according to how close they were to our house and scored a same-day appointment with the first one on my list. Alex looked even more beautiful than usual, freshly bathed and in a little pink dress. List of intelligent questions (culled from several baby books) and a file of Alex's medical records in hand, I was ready to impress this new doctor with my calm, intellectual approach to mothering. Not one of those crazy ones who over-react to every little thing.

We got off to a great start, Alex weighed in at 6 pounds, a big milestone for her. More evidence of fabulous parenting, of course. Meeting the doctor was great, he is very matter-of-fact, never rushed us, and was extremely thorough. We breezed through the first few questions about medical history, etc. The next bunch we could answer, but I had to look through the records. The guilt started: a good mother would know all this stuff by heart. Then came the questions we couldn't answer -- as adoptive parents, even though we have a lot of information, there are just going to be things that we don't know. What was surprising was how bad I felt about that -- again, thoughts of "a good mother would know . . . ." A very strange feeling of defensiveness and guilt (well, I don't know for sure about the prenatal care; we know what the birth mother told us, but not everything, and of course if I had been the birth mother myself I'd have had impeccable records, really). I've heard that other adoptive parents feel that way, but didn't really appreciate it before. As we moved on to discussing baby care, I thought now I'll be on firmer ground. Proper umbilical cord care? Yep. Car seat with 5 point restraint? Check. Did you know babies can't have honey? Well, no, hadn't planned on it . . . but . . . oh God, what else don't I know?? Wash hands before holding her? Um, most of the time. Sterilize lips before kissing her? (OK, I made that one up). Still, by the end of the very thorough consult I was better educated, but not nearly as confident as I was when we walked in.

Still a bit shaky, we moved on to the blood tests. Virginia requires tests that Texas doesn't, and we wanted to run the full panel of metabolic tests anyway (and I was so proud of actually knowing that such tests could be run!), so we moved on to the nurse to take blood. Now, I've been around a lot of babies, but it NEVER OCCURED TO ME that their little veins were too small to take blood the same way as adults. And that they would prick her heel and then proceed to squeeze and rub and poke and torture to get the required amount. There she was, all cute and smiling and trusting, lying on the table in a diaper, holding on to my fingers. The look of betrayal (how could you let them do this to me????) sent me over the edge. Alex was crying and holding onto my fingers with both hands. I had tears streaming down my face, but didn't want to let go to wipe them away. Greg was holding onto the non-bleeding foot to keep it from kicking, and whispering in her ear to calm her down. It went on forever.

I am blaming it on lack of sleep, all the emotions of the past week, and being unprepared, but I never saw myself as the type to cry over something so minor as taking blood. Pa-the-tic. We all went home, as Alex and I were both exhausted from the ordeal.

Since Greg already took the cliche "it hurts us more than it hurts you," I'll end with a quote from a song. "Love hurts. Ooooh, oohh, love hurts."

Oh, and I still haven't gotten to my e-mail. See Greg's post below about Alex wanting to be held all day today.

-- Jane

Apparently, the Princess was a pill today.

I spent about five hours in the office this afternoon (for a scheduled meeting, and catching up on a few more things), and when I called Jane to let her know I was heading home for the day, she reported that Alex had been "fussy" all day (I think that was the word Jane used; it might have been "cranky"). She -- Alex, that is -- wasn't interested in just sitting in the Baby Papasan while Jane worked on getting her room ready to accommodate baby furniture; she just wanted to be held. (She was also, reportedly, OK when Jane had her in the car going to -- did I hear that correctly, hon? -- BABIES ARRRRRR US?)

Yes, Jane returned to a Babies 'R' Us today, but for good reason -- that is the only place we've found so far that carries the particular preemie-size diapers that best fit Alex. Jane reports that it wasn't such a bad experience today -- either because it was a better store, or because she was steeled for the experience by last week's debacle. (I'm guessing the latter.)

Well, while Jane was dealing with the fussy Miss Alex, I was in the office receiving accolades for being a new father (and showing pictures). Miss Alex also received a gift -- what my law partner (and experienced mom) Julie McEvoy describes as "the softest baby blanket in the world." Alex will have to road-test it tomorrow, because I left it at the office today.

So I arrived home around 5:45 p.m., just as Alex was getting her latest diaper, and Jane handed her to me. Alex promptly fell asleep in my arms, and after holding her awhile, I put her back in the Baby Papasan. Nary a peep from her for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Why? Because . . .

Daddy's home!

-- Greg

Nicholas, you've already got some competition for the hand of the fair Princess Alexandra.

When I got into the office today, I had a voice-mail message from my friend and fraternity brother Joe Emmick, who is the Dean for Advancement at our college in Indiana, Wabash College (an all-male bastion). Joe and Sara have been on the adoption crazy train pretty much since we boarded it early last year, and -- in one of those little coincidences of life that we discovered when we first met Sara, it turns out that Jane, when she was in law school, used to baby-sit for the (themselves adopted) children of Sara's sister, who is married to the Dean of Jane's law school.

Anyway, Nicholas, the operative part of Joe's voice mail follows. After congratulating us on Alexandra's arrival, Joe reported:

"I'm calling because Sara and I have a suggestion for a future prom date for Alexandra. His name is William Patrick Emmick. He was born Friday, and Sara and I became his proud parents officially early yesterday morning."

Welcome, Will! You could not possibly have chosen a better set of parents than Joe and Sara.

Of course, Nicholas has a couple of things going for him -- he is an older man (he was born in December), and he's got that Greek heritage going for him. On the other hand, Will is pretty likely to be a Wabash man, like me.

(Wait a second -- would I ever let my daughter date a Wabash man?)

-- Greg

Monday, August 7, 2006

Believe it or not, this is Jane. Between snuggling, feeding, diapering, laundry and frantic shopping when she is napping, Alex has pretty much taken up all my available time. But we had a great night sleep-wise last night, and I am feeling a bit more under control, so figured I'd better put my 2 cents in now. First though, I owe pretty much everyone who has called or emailed an apology, as I have yet to respond unless I happened to be standing by the phone with nothing to do when you called. I will try and catch up on e-mail today, phone calls tomorrow. I figure feeling guilty about neglecting something is a motherhood rite of passage, so I'm not going to worry about it too much.

First, the good stuff: photos of Alex.

(By the way, Greg is currently dressing Alex, telling her not to "fight the power" by wiggling. She is pleading with her eyes: Mommy, help mee . . . no seriously, Greg is a great dad, diapering, feeding, and all.)

Alex is thinking: "I'm not too sure about this bath thing. I didn't cry, but I had my mouth open and ready, just in case."

Thanks to everyone who has e-mailed advice -- trust me, we can use it! I had to laugh at our friend Carolyn's comment that she was trying to think back to what she needed the most at this stage, saying that she really should just get me a tub of undereye concealer. Too true. The first day Greg and I went out shopping for baby things, everyone asked us if we needed a gift receipt. Saturday morning, when I went on a baby clothing shopping blitz (without Alex), NOBODY asked. Maybe it was the no-makeup, no-sleep look? Or possibly the store clerks heard me thinking: "skip the fancy tissue and just throw it into the bag, I am going to rip the tags off and throw it into the laundry the second I get it home anyway." Speaking of laundry, wow do babies create a lot of it. Cleaning out the lint trap for the first time was an experience -- we are used to white or grey lint. PINK lint is a new one. (Wow -- writing about lint. My mind has officially turned to mush).

That is about it from me. We are spending a lot of time staring at Alex's sleeping face, congratulating each other on getting the cutest and smartest baby in the world.

-- Jane

Six pounds even.

That's what Alex weighed today, at her first pediatrician's appointment. That's a gain of ten ounces since she was born on July 19, or a bit more than a half ounce per day. At that rate, she'll weigh 100 pounds by the time she's eight. (I did the math.) But for now, we don't have to worry about Alex having a weight problem -- at least an overweight problem .

Jane expressed an interest in writing a post on this subject, so I'm deferring to her. But here's a preview of what you'll hear from Jane -- my guess is that it'll mostly involve the "heel stick," which really did hurt us more than it did Alex. You might also hear about Dr. Morris, the bow-tied pediatrician we saw today -- and who we liked very much.

So what does that leave me to write about? Since today consisted of me going into the office for 45 minutes, taking Jane and Alex for a quick lunch, and then a pediatrician's appointment, there isn't a lot left. But every day with a baby gives you new raw material, so I'll take on a hodgepodge of experiences.

I didn't cover this the first day we were home, but this one's worth going back a few days. Right after we got home, unloaded the baby booty, and generally readjusted ourselves to being back home, my slender slip of a wife unleashed a "FEED ME" in a voice reminiscent of pea-soup-spouting Linda Blair from The Exorcist. I've heard that voice before, and it means that we need to get her a cheeseburger -- stat. So we packed up Alex into the car seat, and off we went to Coastal Flats, which is about the closest cheeseburger-serving restaurant to our house. Because the booths at Coastal Flats were not big enough to accommodate a car seat, we just put Alex (in the car seat) on top of the table. Our waitress arrived to take our order, and the dialogue went something like this:

Waitress: Hi. Welcome to Coastal Flats. I'm [name], and I'll be your -- oh, wow -- she's beautiful!

Jane: Thank you.

Waitress: And so tiny! How big is she?

Jane: Five pounds, eight ounces.

Waitress: Oh, my gosh! How long ago did you have her?

Greg: [interjecting so that my wife doesn't have to correct the form of her question, or lie to her] She's fifteen days old.

Waitress: [to Jane] My God! You look fabulous!

Jane: Thank you.

I particularly enjoyed that one.

We never told the waitress that Alex was just adopted. (Why should we? And anyway, my wife does look fabulous.)

As I've mentioned before, one of the by-products of this running commentary has been that our friends have been sending us advice by e-mail: lists of baby goods to buy, tips on enjoying the moments instead of trying to photograph every one, and so on. There have been several that merit reprinting, and I probably will reproduce several here, eventually. But today's is courtesy of our friend Julie Richey, a former prosecutor in Pittsburg, Kansas, a law-school classmate of Jane's, and the mother of Katie (age 9) and James (age 6), who are our buddies (you can find pictures from their spring-break visit to DC elsewhere on our little family album/website). For reasons that will become apparent as you read (especially Myth #5), you need to know one fact about James: He is a genius. Really.

So I read your updates, and had quite a few good laughs. Mostly, I was laughing at the Dreft/baby clothes incident. Don't worry about the freaking out at the BRU, I find that a sign of high intelligence. Obviously, the place is designed to make you feel so inadequate that you fill your cart with all sorts of plastic gadgets and gizmos that you don't really need. That is their master plan!!

So I decided to compile a list of myths and facts of early parenthood for you, because I know you are getting very little non-solicited advice right now. (ha!) What's a few more pearls of wisdom, anyway:

Myths:

1. You have to wash clothes in Dreft. This is a myth invented by the makers of Dreft. I never did it and nor did any of the mothers I know and our babies' skin did not fall off! (I will admit to using Cheer Free, however, for the first few months of Katie, James, however got whatever was on sale.)

2. You have to boil all baby feeding items. Again, this is a myth, made up by Laura Ingalls Wilder. A run thru the dishwasher is fine for all of us, including babies.

3. You can never microwave formula. This is the biggest myth of all. It is complete bulls[tuff]. It is made by lawyers who must have sued manufactures of formula and/or microwaves. Some idiot must have microwaved way too long and forgot to SHAKE THE BOTTLE. I microwaved every bottle my kids ate -- for a 4 oz. bottle out of the fridge, it was about 30 seconds. It is so stupid to think that putting a bottle in warm water is less likely to create hot spots. You just have to shake the bottle, for crying out loud.

4. You need a rubber ducky thermometer to check the bath temperature. Duh, stick your hand in it. If it doesn't burn you, it won't burn your baby. Same type skin, you know.

5. Bottle feeding is bad for babies, and they are somehow less intelligent and maladjusted. James was entirely bottle fed, 'Nuf said.

Now for some facts:

Facts:

1. You do, in fact need sleep too. You need at least one night of uninterrupted sleep per week. Make Greg get up in the middle of the night occasionally too. For example, on a Saturday, you sleep the whole night and make him take all-night duty. Remember, they tell you to put the oxygen mask on yourself first so you will be able to put one on the child. (Sorry Greg, but she can't do it all herself.)

2. It is ok for the baby to cry. She can sit in the back seat all by herself. You can take a shower without someone watching her. (I recall going to buy a clear shower curtain so I could put her in the car seat on the bathroom floor and still see her while I showered . . . ugh.) She can cry for a minute or two while you finish what you are doing. It is ok, I promise.

3. Finally and most importantly, they must learn to sleep on their own, in their own bed. It is way easier if you do this from the beginning, although I will give you a bassinet by the bed in the early months. Once she can roll over though, you had better use the crib. I know way too many people whose cribs never saw use and the 10-year-old still sleeps with them. Yick!!

4. Have fun. This is the most wonderful thing in the world that can happen to you. She's sort of like a computer -- they are really hard to break with regular use, so enjoy!!!

So there you go. Have fun, and I will call soon. We can't wait to meet her.

As far as I am concerned, Julie is a genius for these tips. (And since James got a shout-out above, here's one for Katie: Congratulations for making the All-Star Dance Team! This team is, according to the website of Katie's dance academy, "an intensive company trainee class" designed "for our younger dancers with company potential who are disciplined and mature enough to start making a commitment toward company level training.")

Craig, what have you done lately?

-- Greg

Sunday, August 6, 2006

One of these posts is eventually going to be from Jane again, but not yet.

We started this morning -- after another good night of sleep -- with a visit from the aforementioned friend and law partner Edwin, who had graciously offered to bring out my copy of the summer-associate evaluations to the house, along with a couple of baby gift bags he espied in my office (thanks, Melissa, Doug, and Linda!), where I haven't been since July 21. I was gratified for Edwin's willingness to go out of the way, but he did get a quid pro quo for the delivery service -- he's the first one from the Firm (besides me) to meet Miss Alex.

Yesterday, too, we kept Alex's social schedule busy, thanks to a visit from the extended Stern-Brenkus clan -- we've gone through many of the same trials and tribulations together with Mary and Mickey, and now their children, Luke and Lexie (both 3 and a half), are ready to show Alex the way of enlightenment. Mary's folks, John and Rose (a/k/a the Brenkus parts of the clan), came with them and brought dinner for us all. And presents -- lots of presents -- for the already spoiled Alex.

Mary, by the way, is the woman I've frequently referred to as Jane's "sister from another mother"; they have a bond and affection for each other that is quite special -- and a similarity in personalities that is, um, more than a little frightening. (It's their world; Mickey and I just live in it.) And naturally, Mary was one of the ringleaders of the the Friday morning "decorate the house and yard and deposit the baby booty on the doorstep" affair, along with Greg and Christy Nanna and Shannon Henley -- adoptive parents all of them. (I'll get in trouble if I don't also add that Luke and Lexie were also there and claimed to have "helped" -- as, we hear, did Shannon's three children.) We've now had the opportunity to thank the Sterns in person for that, and I look forward to doing the same in person with the Nannas and the Henleys, very soon.

Another great gift of friendship we received was Mickey's decision to bring his camera and take some photos to mark the occasion. He's a reformed lawyer who has turned to more visual media -- and he clearly has an eye and a special ability, as you'll see below. I haven't cropped these pictures like the other ones because I think you ought to see them the way Mickey took them.

Alex also got her first bath last night. She seemed a little surprised, but took it well.

-- Greg

Saturday, August 5, 2006

Now I know how traditions get started.

After another pretty good night of sleeping (apparently, Alexandra and Jane were up "playing" from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m., but I wouldn't have known it -- I was out cold), we woke up around 7 this morning. Jane started talking to Alexandra and asking, "Should we make it Daddy's special tradition to make us breakfast on Saturday mornings? Yes? She said 'yes,' Daddy."

Of course, this became Daddy's Special Tradition because we just got home yesterday and we don't have any non-canned food in the house that isn't called Similac. So off I groggily go to the Giant, for the traditional pre-Daddy's-Special-Tradition grocery shopping trip. I picked the Giant that's a bit farther away, because it has a Starbucks, a Sunoco (my car was riding on 'E'), and, if things go horribly wrong with the 'special tradition,' there's a package liquor store there (doesn't open until 10 a.m. on Saturdays, though).

Before I natter on, though, here are some more photos.

Here we are, having a little snooze this morning before Mommy announced the birth of 'Daddy's Special Tradition.'

As I was heading out the door to buy supplies for Daddy's Special Tradition, I took this one. Notice that Alexandra and Mommy sleep the same way.

So anyway, this morning brought another development (courtesy, again, of Mommy), and that was the announcement of Mom's view that Alexandra "looks like an Alex." (I tend to agree.) So, at least for now, anyway, she's Alex.

Just so you know, the updates stopped at 12:30 yesterday because we had to do some more shopping. And while I don't mean to turn this into Consumer Reports, I just have to tell you that, after the Babies 'R' Us experience in Dallas, it was a breath of fresh air to visit Buy Buy Baby in Springfield, Virginia yesterday afternoon. Although I don't particularly care for the name of this store -- probably because "Buy Buy" is a little too on the nose as a description of what we were there to do -- it is a useful reminder that Buy Buy Baby is owned by the same company that owns the other 'BBB' -- Bed Bath & Beyond. But you'd probably know it immediately upon walking into the store; it's got basically the same layout and feel as a Bed Bath & Beyond.

Everything about the Buy Buy Baby shopping experience made the whole Babies 'R' Us experience disappear in my memory: The stores were clean and pleasantly lit; there was much less of a warehouse feel to them; the employees were both find-able and helpful; and, most importantly, I didn't freak out. In fact, I enjoyed the experience. Of course, that might have been due to the fact that we were back home, or perhaps because I was pushing my daughter in the cart. I think, rather than making my own conclusions based on years of my own painful experiences, I will adopt the rule that my brother-in-law Joe has just recently adopted (after three kids' worth of experience): No more stores with an 'R' in the name. In fact, to the extent I have to mention those stores at all, I think that I'll pronounce their names as though said by a pirate -- "Babies Arrrrrrrrr Us." Since I felt as though all of my confidence as a parent had been pirated after my visit to Babies Arrrrrrr Us.

By the way, I should advise all reading this that I have this morning been left alone with my daughter for the first time. The first several paragraphs (and all the pictures) were posted using my right hand only to type and mouse-click, as I had Alex in my left arm. Funny thing -- as soon as Jane went out the door, Alex promptly started crying (and it wasn't either of the cries I was familiar with so far -- cry #1, food; cry #2, diaper), so I picked her up and walked her around her new house. That seemed to soothe her, and after several paragraphs and photos, and calls from our friends Leah and Julie, and most importantly, from Alex's Papou (my Dad -- that's Greek for 'grandfather'), I returned her to the Baby Papasan on the kitchen table, where she's been sleeping soundly ever since. So far, so good.

I mentioned my Dad here. With Alex's arrival this week, my Dad and I now have something else in common -- both of us became parents for the first time at age 41. That's a little bit older than most dads were when I was in school, but I was a kid in the late 1960s and the 1970s, and things at the time were a little free-form (shall we say) for a lot of 20- and 30-something young adults. I remember that a lot of the kids I went to school with had some pretty 'groovy' parents (some complete with VW microbus). I never wished I had had other, more permissive parents; even then, I appreciated having a Mom and Dad who were real grown-ups who knew who they were, and not still in an 'experimental' phase of their lives. I hope Alex has the same sort of appreciation for our stability, grey hair and wisdom (such that it is).

As many of you know, my Mother passed away in December 2003, so she isn't around to meet Alex. But perhaps she's been involved in some sort of karmic way with Alex's arrival. The Sunday that Rachel and C. picked us as Alex's parents, July 23, would have been my Mother's 72nd birthday. Happy birthday, indeed, Yia Yia.

So how about some more pictures, hmmm?

Here's us Thursday with Peggy, Alex's transitional-care provider:

This is just too charming: Peggy called my cell phone yesterday to check on Alex; she said she was going through "withdrawal." And when we gave her the update, we asked permission to use her photo here; she was only too happy to do so.

Here's a couple of pictures of Alex and her Mom sleeping in the hotel Thursday night.

Here are a couple of on-the-plane photos from yesterday; one just before takeoff, and one in flight from Dallas:

And another one, just before the flight attendant announced that it was time to return the babies to their upright and locked position. Notice the baby bottle and the water bottle in the seat-back pocket:

Here are Alex and her Dad waiting for the luggage to arrive from US Airways Flight 3336 from Dallas-Ft. Worth:

And one of Mom and Alex with all of our luggage, waiting for the car:

Here is what we arrived home to -- balloons, signs, gifts -- love was all around us when we brought Alex into her new home:

Here are a few of Mom and Alex surrounded by all of the baby booty that our friends left on our porch:

And finally, a couple from this morning, just because she was being too darn cute not to take (and publish) a photo or two of her:

Mom's back from shopping, and Alex is awake now, so that seems like a good time to close. For now. Maybe I can convince Jane to do the next update.

-- Greg

Friday, August 4, 2006

Our first effort to get a baby on an airplane was a success -- but it wasn't easy.

First of all, let's pat ourselves on our collective back for having had the foresight to ship most of our Colorado and hiking stuff back home last Tuesday via FedEx Ground. In case you've never used this service to ship luggage, let me commend it to you -- it cost us about $35 to ship a 68-pound suitcase/rolling steamer trunk back to our house. And keep in mind that a 68-pound bag would be an "oversize" bag on most airlines and subject to a $50 (or more) "oversize luggage" fee. Of course, we're writing this from the airplane, so we really don't know if our bags have arrived yet. Or ever will. At least it was cheap.

I mentioned that whole FedEx Ground thing because there is no way -- no way -- that we could have managed this morning if we had had even one more bag. What was a pretty streamlined trip from Denver to Dallas (at least as far as luggage goes) on Tuesday turned out to be the Griswold family vacation by Friday: The rolling bag with our clothes. The diaper backpack. The diaper bag the agency presented us with. The car seat (and the base). My briefcase/computer bag. A gym bag. Jane's purse. And something else . . . something else . . . what am I forgetting?

Oh, yeah. A baby. Where I used to be able to count on Jane as being good for a rolling bag and something over the shoulder when we travel together, this whole baby thing really decreases her effectiveness when it comes to helping with the luggage. But somehow, we managed (with the good help of the Grand Hyatt concierge, who pressed himself into service when a bellman could not be found at 6 a.m.) to get all of our stuff on the TerminaLink bus and from Terminal D to Terminal E. The TerminalLink bus driver tried to drop us off at US Airways, but her "supervisor" wouldn't let her do that, and so instead of being dropped off right where the ticket counter was, we got to add another hike to our vacation; this one about a quarter-mile long, and done in record time. Not a minute was wasted at DFW this morning -- we checked in, checked three of the bags (and carried on three others -- oh, yeah, and a baby), made it through security (despite the woman in front of me at the TSA checkpoint who seemed befuddled that her Texas-sized metal belt buckle had to come off before she could walk through the magnetometer), reassembled ourselves (shoes back on, computer back in the briefcase, jacket back on), and trotted to the gate just as the gate agent was making the announcement that he was preboarding "for people who need extra assistance and families with small children."

That's us, now. (Ain't no child smaller than her riding on this airplane.) We walked right on without even missing a step -- just handed the tickets to the agent (who looked at Alexandra, smiled, and told Jane "Congratulations!"), and on we went. Of course, I had so much cr--, I mean baby stuff to stow that I managed to hold up the "Zone 1" passengers who followed us preboarders while I tried to jam an overstuffed diaper backpack into the overhead bin. I said to the frustrated guy behind me, "Until the baby came along, I used to get frustrated at people like me, too." He relaxed and smiled. I think. Maybe he was gritting his teeth. Not sure. Don't care.

As I type this from seat 2C, my bride next to me in 2A -- Mom, as she is now known -- is holding our sleeping daughter on her lap, stroking her hair. That ought to be enough to make even a hardened old bag like Joyce smile. If, of course, that were my aim. Which it isn't.

But back to Alexandra. This girl sleeps like a champ. Although Jane took all of the feedings overnight, Alexandra slept soundly between feedings. No crying, very little rustling -- just like Peggy said, she is a calm baby. And that's a good thing, because after that Babies 'R' Us debacle on Wednesday, I'm pretty certain that my freaking-out threshold is presently calibrated on the low side. She's slept almost the entire flight so far, with the exception of one brief cry to alert us to the need for a diaper change -- and we're less than an hour from landing now.

Now Alexandra is holding Jane's finger with her left hand while she sleeps, right hand up to her left cheek. I look over and know that my wife was made for this role. I'm so happy for her -- for all of us, sure, but especially for her. And when she sleeps, A. often gets this half-smile on her face -- the left side of her mouth curls up into a smile, as though to say "I'm really happy to be here."

We're happy you're here, too.

-- Greg

12:30 p.m. update. Just arrived home. As we were headed up the driveway, Jane shrieked, "Oh, my God!!" I thought the roof of the house had fallen in. I looked up, and it turns out our house and yard are festooned with pink and white ribbons, balloons, bows, signs (including a stork sign), banners reading "It's a Girl!", "Baby Girl!", and "Welcome Alexandra Rachel!" Pictures later. Thanks now (you know who you are). The culprits will be identified when the pictures are posted, and I think I'll leave that to Jane.

Special note to N.N.: No dating my daughter until we have a chat about your intentions.

Also, a second special note to G.N.: Found the Butt Paste in the basket, but where's the Dewar's?

-- Greg

Thursday, August 3, 2006

A few quick things before Greg gets on and does the full update -- he's funnier than me, anyway.

TODAY IS THE DAY!!!!! Tried to sleep in this morning, but instead lay there imagining what the day wil bring. Like the little kid in the commercial for Disneyworld, I'm too excited to sleep.

Photo from last night's dinner at Javier's. I told my Mom our plans, and jokingly said "our last worry-free dinner for 18 years." She laughed and said "Only 18 years? Riiiight." Huh. I am almost 40, and apparently she still worries.

Heartfelt thanks for all those who wrote in to confirm that we are not the only ones freaked out by Babies 'R' Us (BRU) . We are slowly but surely learning how much our world has already changed. For example, we decided to stay in a hotel connected to the airport instead of an Amerisuite-type hotel near the agency to alleviate some of the stress of tomorrow morning, where we will be testing our parenting skills by trying to get us and a new baby on a plane departing at 7:30 a.m. (We plan to take advantage of the fact that we will be up all night anyway.) Anyway, turns out that regular hotels do not have laundry facilities, but new baby clothes, etc. need to be washed with Dreft before they are worn or used. So, the first MacGyver (MomGyver?) moment of the trip was hand-washing the new stuff in the sink and hanging it to dry in our formerly Zen-like hotel bathroom.

Finally, I had to record for historical purposes the look on Greg's face as we checked out of BRU. And this anecdote (which Greg has read before publishing, so assume if you are reading it he has decided it's not too embarassing for him). So we head into BRU, first going to the car seat area, as legally we can't take custody of Alexandra without one. Pick one out, put it in the cart. I pull out my list of baby necessities, and head to the first aisle of the store. Greg asks, "What are we doing? Melissa [our caseworker at the adoption agency] said all we need to pick her up is a car seat."

[space inserted to reflect the look of complete bafflement each of us had at the other's misunderstanding]

"She was KIDDING," I said. "Babies do not come with accessories -- they will give us formula, but we need outfits, burp cloths, extra bottles, blankets, baby Tylenol . . . ." [Greg now adds: I could try to explain the misunderstanding, and I realize I have veto power over this portion of this post, but what the heck: It's funnier if you think I thought a baby comes with accessories. Just like the GI Joes I had when I was a kid. I wonder if Alexandra has a 'kung fu grip.']

For the record, I did not get through the day smoothly, either. I got us lost -- repeatedly -- because the whole BRU thing freaked me out, too. And I Iived here for 9 years. I can't recall the other embarassing stuff, but I'm sure Greg will include it in his post.

After a shopping trip at the more familiar Northpark Mall, and a lovely dinner with my handsome husband, I feel ready to start this journey. Especially since Alexandra is too young to post here and tell the world all the mistakes we're about to start making.

-- Jane

I've known this for years, and most of you have, too, but my beautiful wife is insane.

You saw the Dreft-washed baby clothes hanging in our shower? Now she's ironing them, right in the middle of our hotel room. (She just muttered, not knowing I'm typing this, "I can't even remember the last time I ironed anything." Next time you forget, hon, just log on here. It was August 3, 2006, at 10:00 a.m. CDT.)

10 a.m. That means it's only a couple of hours before we leave for the agency, and only about four and a half hours before we meet Alexandra for the first time. Wow. As one of my colleagues from work wrote me yesterday, while she's been enjoying the posts (from the comfort of her own vacation, no less), she anticipates that words may not be enough for me to describe this afternoon's events. I think she's right, because I'm already having trouble this morning even thinking about what to write.

So I guess I'll resort to some basic factual reporting. It's going to be 100 degrees today in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area (and they said it would be a cold day when we had a child). I'm going to try to get a little work done this morning, and then we're going to get ourselves cleaned up and head over to the area where the agency is located -- about half an hour away from where we are here, at DFW. We'll leave here around noon CDT, and get over there around 12:30 p.m. The plan is that we'll have lunch in the area immediately surrounding the agency's offices, where we're expected at 1:45 p.m. We'll meet with Meredith, who is Melissa's supervisor, because Melissa is -- unfortunately -- going to be on vacation today and so she'll miss the fun. With Meredith, we'll fill out the paperwork (which we've already reviewed; they'll just have to make one change, I think, and that is to spell my bride's name correctly), I'll write one more check, and we'll be done with that. According to our conversation with Peggy yesterday, we'll meet her (Peggy) at that time, along with someone else she'll be bringing with her -- Alexandra Rachel Castanias. (To her, this afternoon is probably going to be just another blip on her busy social calendar.)

But that won't be all. At 2:30 is scheduled the 'formal' placement; at that time, we'll meet the birth parents, who will 'officially' present us with our daughter. As I mentioned yesterday, we have a couple of gifts for them, and we'll give them those presents then. We'll spend some time with them, and with Alexandra, and at some point all of that will be over and we will be on our own.

I suspect there might be a photograph or two coming out of all that.

-- Greg

She's here!

Alexandra Rachel Castanias.

That's a picture of her we took just this evening in our hotel room, at about 7:00 p.m. CDT, after coming back from dinner in the hotel restaurant. After all, we didn't want to radically alter her social schedule. I'm going to quickly publish this to the web and then continue with the illustrated story of today.

-- Greg

Now, for the story of today (illustrated).

Timing-wise, it worked pretty much as we suspected it would (see above), except we got a little later start than we had hoped, and the valet parking guy here at the hotel was a bit backed up, so by the time we hit the Ft. Worth city limits, it was apparent that whatever lunch we stopped to have was going to be an awfully quick one.

Here's a picture of us entering Ft. Worth:

Right after this photo was taken, Dad-to-be here was caused to execute a perfect four-lane shift in the span of about three seconds. (Hertz's NeverLost ought to be called "NeverLost, but SometimesConfused" -- at one point on the highway it said to us "Stay in the left lane . . . . Stay in the left lane . . . . Exit on the right in one-tenth mile . . . .," which is why that particular maneuver had to occur.)

By the time we found territory familiar enough that we knew the agency was around the corner, we had about 25 minutes for lunch. Fortunately, there was a Subway nearby. I went in to order while Jane fussed with the base of the car seat, making sure it was fixed, according to directions, in the back seat of our rental car. For my part, I found myself behind two of Ft. Worth's sterling intellects, one of whom had ordered the "Subway Classic Sub." When the Sandwich Artist (that's their title; it's embroidered on their aprons) started putting ham on the bread, this young woman shrieked in horror and said "I wanted tuna." (In honor of the 25th anniversary of MTV, two days ago, I here quote the highly appropriate-for-the-occasion words of EBN-OZN, one of the first video breakout artists: "There are 178 parent languages on our planet with over 1000 dialects . . . It's amazing we communicate at all.")

It's amazing we managed to have lunch at all, too. Well, Jane really didn't: She had two bites of her sandwich and pronounced herself "done." And so it was time to go. We arrived at the agency a full five minutes early for our appointment, and we were greeted by Meredith. She took us back to a conference room (the room that is dedicated to "placements" was in use with another adoption, so we used a next-door conference room with sofas and chairs). As we were walking into the conference room, a woman wearing a red dress came toward us, and we immediately knew it was Peggy, Alexandra's transitional-care provider. We'd never seen her picture, but we just knew.

You know how we said that Peggy was an angel? She is. If Alexandra can have 100 honorary aunts and uncles, then Peggy can be an honorary grandmother. She gave us a little gift bag containing such things as Q-Tips, Alexandra's favorite pacifier, and a sheet of information and observations about little Alexandra's first two weeks. She also gave us an envelope of the pictures she took chronicling Alexandra's first two weeks, with little notes on the back like: "July 22, 2006: Out to dinner with 4 grandmotherly types" and "July 23, 2006 AM: just laying around in my p.j.'s." The one she took today showed Alexandra in the green dress with pink socks that she was wearing today when we met her, with this caption on the back: "Aug. 3, 2006: Dressed and ready!! Off to meet my parents."

Peggy also gave us her card with her address, phone number, and e-mail address; we gave her our contact information and the web address for this weblog. I hope she's reading this tonight. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you a million times over. We also made sure she knows she'll be invited to a shower or two.

After we hugged Peggy and said our good-byes (all three of us had tears), it was time to turn to business. No, not meeting Alexandra -- just business. Paperwork. (Damn lawyers.) More than buying a car, less than buying a house. Triplicates, initials at the bottoms of pages, write a check, blah blah blah. I could have signed my own death warrant in the process, and I wouldn't have known (or cared).

Then came the moment we'd been waiting for only just about all our lives.

Meredith called on the telephone to another room at the agency's offices to tell the birth parents' case worker that we were ready. We heard them outside in the hallway, and Jane and I stood up with our arms around each other. I've got to tell you, though, it seemed like an eternity before they actually showed up at the door; we heard them talking and talking and talking and talking in the hallway, but not moving closer to the door. I could feel Jane tensing with anticipation as I held her.

And then it happened.

Rachel, the birth mother, walked in holding little Alexandra. She was followed by C., the birth father, and the birth mother's mom, P. Rachel walked over to Jane and immediately handed Alexandra to her. Jane hugged Rachel and C.; I gave Rachel a hug and shook C.'s hand. When Rachel and Jane were standing next to each other, I got a glimpse of some similarities that, perhaps, inspired them to pick Jane and whatsisname, her husband, as the adoptive parents -- Jane and Rachel were both about the same height, about the same build, and with about the same hair color. Afterward, we sat down -- Jane still holding onto Alexandra -- and talked with Rachel and C. for a while; Rachel was rather quiet, and C. was pretty outgoing, and seemed to have a pretty good sense of humor. P., Rachel's mom, was more talkative, and we learned a bit more about her and her family. I couldn't tell you exactly all the things we talked about, but I recall that we said "thank you" a lot (so did they, which seemed strange at the time), and the room laughed a lot. Both of them are good-looking kids, and based on our time with them, I suspect they've got the potential for great lives ahead of them. (We're not putting pictures of them here out of respect for their privacy, but they were only too happy to sit with us for some pictures, which will be great for when Alexandra gets older.)

Finally, Jane relinquished her to me:

I've held lots of babies before -- probably yours, in fact, if you're reading this. But this was the first time I had ever held my own daughter. And rather than get too maudlin over the occasion, let me just say this to all of the dads out there who told me about this moment: You were right.

Eventually, we gave Rachel and C. the gifts we got for them, and said goodbye to them and to P. Then the fun really began.

And since you're tired of reading my ramblings, here's what you really want.

Alexandra with her first toy -- the Colorado bear that her cousins Libby and Megan got for her.

You couldn't even imagine two happier parents.

Or a happier Dad.

Or a more peaceful baby daughter.

Or a smellier diaper. (This is Mom's first changing of her daughter.)

I stood by and lent important moral support.

As well as the same kind of support I give to Alexandra's Mom on a regular basis -- zipping up the back of her dress.

Mom gives Alexandra her first bottle. (And her biggest meal to date -- three ounces!)

Dad helped, too.

And then it was time to leave. After Meredith provided us both a lesson in how to really install a car seat properly (which was great fun in the 100-degree Ft. Worth sun), the three of us -- that's right, the three of us -- buckled up and headed back to our Dallas hotel. Jane, no one will be surprised to learn, rode in the back seat with Alexandra. (I'm going to have to get my "Driving Miss Daisy" chauffeur's hat, I'm afraid, now that all my passengers will be riding in the back seat.)

I love this picture of Alexandra holding her Mom's finger, which Mom took during the drive back to the hotel:

Jane actually let me hold Alexandra for a few minutes once we were back in the hotel room, and she took this picture of us:

She's been a little angel so far. She's been so good, in fact, that we decided to have a regular dinner in the hotel restaurant once we got back, rather than order room service. I noticed that the hostess looked at us just a little differently than hostesses or maitre d' s once did -- I think it was the look of "Where should I seat the idiots who brought a 15-day-old baby into our establishment so that when the baby starts crying it doesn't bother our real patrons?" (Unsurprisingly, it was a corner booth, away from everyone else.)

But -- ha ha ha -- Alexandra was just perfect. Jane held her during most of our time there, and when Jane's dinner came, and Alexandra had to return to the car seat we had wedged into the booth, she continued to be perfect. We had a lovely dinner -- I even ordered a glass of champagne to celebrate the occasion -- and returned to our room.

We changed her into a wrap-around shirt, and aside from a little fussing, she seemed just as happy as could be. So happy and content, in fact, that I shoved the flash camera in her face and took a few more photos of her. She was completely unfazed by the flash:

So that's about all from me for now. As I write this, Jane has just changed her again, and now Jane and Alexandra are having a little snooze. No crying (so far), and when she sleeps, she smiles.

I bet the same is going to be true for Jane and me. To the extent we sleep at all.

-- Greg

Wednesday, August 2, 2006

We're not going to Vegas. No new shoes for the baby.

We are, however, going to Dallas/Ft. Worth, and we're actually (knock wood) going to get there earlier than my friends at US Airways promised me yesterday. That's the good news. The rest of the morning? Not so much.

We got up at 4 a.m. (MDT) to get on the road from Estes Park to the Denver International Airport for our 7:30 a.m. flight to DFW, through Vegas. Funny thing, though: US Airways wasn't nearly as interested in getting us to Dallas as we were interested in getting to Dallas. No, that's not fair. A woman named Joyce (last name and employee badge available upon request) wasn't interested in getting us to Dallas. I presently have the hatred of a thousand white-hot suns for Joyce, and -- again, without belaboring too much of the drama that is only our drama -- suffice it to say the following:

(1) We are now flying United to DFW, leaving at 11:05 a.m.;

(2) US Airways Customer Service will be hearing some choice anecdotes about Joyce; and

(3) If this is the way US Airways treats its Platinum members, they must actually shoot the Silver members in the calf with a BB gun, just for sport.

So that's why we're sitting here in the Colorado Sports Bar, eating a chorizo breakfast burrito (me) and an omelet (Jane), and in between bites of breakfast, I'm updating the page. But in my continuing efforts to be fair to US Airways, let me also say that we would not even be on the United flight were it not for the efforts of Tim, the customer-service guy in Winston-Salem who was on the other end of my cell phone while Joyce went through the motions. (Did I mention how much I dislike Joyce?)

(Side note about the guy at the United ticket counter: His name tag read "Jerry Maguire." I had to ask: Was that his real name? "Yes." When was the last time a customer gave you a line from the movie? "About two customers ago." Show me the tickets, baby! Show me the tickets! Or maybe it was You had me at 'exit row.')

Jane, by the way, is sitting in the Colorado Sports Bar reading a book called What to Expect the First Year. She calls it Alexandra's instruction manual.

Before I start seething about Joyce again, and recounting the particular incantation that I will be using to put a curse on her (And her cats. I'll just bet she's got lots of cats.), let me take a moment to acknowledge all of the marvelous e-mails and phone calls we've gotten over the last 24 hours, in response to Jane's and my e-mails giving out our news. I think we never really knew how many friends we have, all over the country (indeed, the world). Sometimes, I think we get so busy just getting through the hard work of living our lives that we forget how blessed we are to have so many friends.

While we've been here at DIA, Jane's received two phone calls -- one from our sister-in-law, Nelle; one from her brother (and my brother-in-law), Joe. Just checking in, wishing us well. Nelle, though, asked Jane what we have for the baby at home (perhaps fishing about to find what would be a good gift?). Jane responded, accurately, "Nothing. No-thing." Nelle, who has three kids, seemed, shall we say, surprised. But you know, that's what happens when you don't get that nine-or-so-month warning period.

But I can assure you of one thing: By sometime this afternoon, we will own a car seat. Why? Because the agency isn't letting us leave with Alexandra unless we have one. So we have that as an incentive.

It's just about 28 hours until we meet our daughter. I can't wait. We can't wait.

And: Joyce must die.*

* Jane, ever the lawyer, would like to add this disclaimer for the benefit of the FBI, TSA, Department of Homeland Security, and whoever else is monitoring this website: This is a joke.

[Additional note: My friend and law partner Edwin Fountain reminded me that Monty Python already summed up this morning's events in "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" --

"Let's not bicker or argue about who killed who. This is a happy occasion!"

He also offered us a baby bottle someone left at his house after the last NFL Playoffs and Chili Party he hosted. What a sweet man. And ladies? He's single.]

-- Greg

We are finally on the plane -- in his rant against Joyce, Greg omitted the extra fun of being selected for additional security screening, as well as assorted other delays and indignities, too boring and numerous to detail here. Suffice it to say that if Alexandra had been with us, we would have had to censor a significant part of our conversation. At some point, however, it just became funny. Sort of a continuation of the myriad challenges we've encountered these past few years. Just tell us what we need to do. Leap tall buildings? Fine. Change airlines three times? No prob. As long as, in the immortal words of Ed (Holly Hunter) in Raising Arizona, "you get back in there and get me a baby."

Enough complaining. Life is good. No more pictures of Alexandra, until tomorrow, but this one we had to share. Yesterday, as Greg and I were changing flights, finding hotels and otherwise taking care of a million little details, our nieces Libby and Megan went out to purchase Alexandra's first toy: a small bear with Estes Park inscribed on his tummy. They (creatively) dubbed him Alex. Again, so much of the joy of the past few days has been our ability to share it with our family.

This is going to sound repetitive, but we are so grateful for the outpouring of friendship, support, offers of help, and congratulations that have been pouring in. It is truly overwhelming. Thank you hardly seems sufficient.

In response to various questions posed via email:
1. She was born at 7:56 am. I think this question has something to do with astrological signs and such, but I am afraid to ask.
2. We do not need to borrow a house, a car, or a nursery during our brief stay in Dallas - but sincerely appreciate the offers. We are going to try and ease the transition from couplehood to parenthood via maid service (with fresh towels on demand) and room service. But now that we know the security codes to everyone's homes, we may "acquire" some new electronics.
3. We have not decided on a nickname. We thought we'd meet her first and see what fits. One of the reasons we both loved the name Alexandra is that there are so many options for a sulky teen to express her individuality, hopefully through abandoning whatever nickname we decide fits her to select a new one, as opposed to tattoos or piercings.
4. Rachel is the first name of the birth mother. We are grateful beyond measure.
5. She has not had her dip-tet (another Raising Arizona reference). We don't even know what a dip-tet is. Or, probably, how to spell it.

Seems like we are pointing downward, so I'll close. More news when we have it.

-- Jane

Babies 'R' Us: One-stop shopping for baby goods, or purveyor of insecurity and evil?

After this morning's debacle, we landed at DFW about 1 p.m. CDT. We appeared to be being stalked by a father escorting five (Jane swears she counted six; I think they may have been utilizing some evil tool of replication) children of various ages and of (shall we just say) questionable ruliness: They were on our plane from Denver (in fact, they butted in between the two of us in the boarding line at DIA); they camped out at the DFW baggage claim in the old-fashioned 'flying wedge' formation, thereby assuring that no one -- no one -- could get their bags as they tumbled onto the circulator; and they were on the rental-car bus with us from the terminal (again, somehow managing to get in between Jane and me as we were boarding). Why, our children would never . . . .

"Arrogance of the childless," we have often called that sort of thinking. But pride goeth before a fall, the poet said, and our comeuppance came about 45 minutes later. We decided that our first stop in Dallas would not be our hotel, but would instead be a trip to the nearest Babies 'R' Us, to pick up a few things (including that aforementioned car seat). About five minutes into this trip, I began to panic. (Jane would prefer that I said 'we,' but it was me: I was shutting down basic bodily functions, like blinking. And breathing.) Now, I have been inside Babies 'R' Us stores before, shopping for baby showers and the like, but clearly I was in denial when making those trips. These stores are filled with all the things that a young (ish) couple without children does not have in their house. Nipples (artificial ones, anyway). Nipple brushes. Bibs with really stupid things embroidered on them. And stuff in the so-called "food" aisle, but none of it looks like the food I have known since my earliest moments of sentience. It was as though I had been whisked out of my American middle-class existence and placed inside some sort of Wal-Mart catering to aliens.

One of Jane's complaints about Babies 'R' Us is that it doesn't have the baby clothing in any particular order of size, and the selection of clothing for "preemies" -- which is the size Alexandra is right now -- is pathetic. For my part, I found the place to be awfully cold and sterile, and the employees, to the extent that one could be found, fairly unhelpful. I can only say that now with a few hours' perspective; when we walked out of the place, we were freaked out -- both of us convinced, for the first time in this process, that we knew not what we were doing. At all.

The only good thing that came out of that trip -- besides the car seat, of course -- was the fun we had wheeling, and defiantly so, into the "Expectant Mothers Only" parking space in front of Babies 'R' Us.

A trip to Target (fortunately not one catering to aliens), and a further trip to Northpark shopping mall, finally restored a little balance. Jane insisted that Alexandra needs a pretty dress to fly home in on Friday, so we descended on Baby Gap (nothing good) and Gymboree (three very cute -- if I do say so myself -- summer dresses). Side trips to Ann Taylor and Brooks Brothers so that the two of us actually have some non-hiking clothing to wear tonight and tomorrow. Quick stop at La Madeline for a late lunch, and, finally, we bought a couple of presents for the birth parents.

Now we've checked into our hotel room, and Jane is unpacking our luggage and our shopping bounty. For now, the backpack I carried while hiking in Colorado is becoming a diaper bag.

Speaking of all the stuff we now have that we didn't have this morning: I'm pretty astounded how many of you have been keeping up with the posts here, and all of your generous offers of baby things that we don't -- or at least didn't -- have (special note to L.S.: That was an amazing list you sent us today; if your employer ever finds out what you really do at work, heaven help you), or offers from local folks here to make "midnight formula runs" (an e-mail that miraculously arrived on my BlackBerry just as we were freaking out in the 102-degree parking lot of Babies 'R' Us). We haven't even met Alexandra yet, and already she's got at least 100 aunts and another 100 uncles, to go along with our brothers and sisters and their spouses. She is one lucky chick.

Oh, we spoke with Peggy again this evening. (Well, Jane spoke with her; I was driving in the Dallas evening-rush-hour traffic, which is starting to look like Washington's.) Our little social butterfly is heading out to dinner with Peggy and her family again this evening, this time to celebrate her two-week birthday. And we learned a little more about Peggy and why she does what she does: Four of Peggy's eleven grandchildren were adopted, and she said "I wish there had been someone like me for them when they were born." But perhaps the best thing we heard was that Peggy has now started calling her 'Alexandra,' ever since she learned that that was our chosen name for her. See you tomorrow, kid.

Finally, by popular demand, "Uncle Duck":

The first one is Johnny first learning that Uncle Greg could quack like a duck. The second one is from yesterday afternoon, when Johnny again asked for "more duck," and I handed him a wooden duck decoy that was on the bookshelf at the cabin. And after dinner last night, I bought him a memento of our time together -- a stuffed animal of a wood duck that quacks when you push on its back. Not the same quack as Uncle Duck, who sounds a little more like Donald, but he still knows it's a duck.

This last entry is sponsored by Peking Gourmet restaurant in Falls Church, Virginia, home of the world's best Peking Duck.

Tonight, we return to the scene of the crime . . . more on that later.

-- Greg

One last entry for the night to explain that "scene of the crime" reference.

We've just returned to the hotel from dinner in downtown Dallas at Javier's. That, friends, is "the scene of the crime." On Sunday, May 16, 1999, which also happened to be Mother's Day that year, Miss Jane Hutchinson and Mr. Gregory Castanias went on their first date, to Javier's.

On this "Mother's Day" eve, it seemed only appropriate to return. Our first dinner as a couple, and our last dinner as "just" a couple.

Tomorrow night, a very different dining experience. Stay tuned!

-- Greg

Tuesday, August 1, 2006

Here are a few pictures -- I'll post in a minute, but wanted to get the pics up right away. Not that we are biased, but we think she is beautiful.

--Jane

First of all, a big thank you to all who have sent such nice e-mails. We have been reading them all morning, causing our niece to ask me, "Why are you crying again?" It has been an amazing morning, starting at 4:00 am, when I tried to tiptoe out of our room without waking Greg. Of course, he'd been awake as well, so we both got up and started making lists and plans. [My eyes keep drifting to the photos - look at the middle one, how tiny she is compared to a grown-up's hand!! I am sure I am going to be totally embarrassing as a mom.] Anyway . . . we have started acclimating to life with a baby by sleeping like a baby -- only a few hours at a time and crying a lot.

Mid-morning we found out that our Interstate Compact paperwork has made its way from Texas to Virginia and back to Texas in record time, so we can go HOME to Virginia early Friday morning. [For anyone who knows the whole story, it's about time the paperwork gods smiled upon us. -- Greg] Greg is on the phone with US Airways right now, trying to turn a return trip from Denver to DC and a round trip flight from DC to North Carolina and back into Denver-to-Dallas-to-DC. (Scott and Lauren, we decided not to inflict new parents with a new baby on your wedding day, but we will be there with you in spirit.) Right now it sounds like we will be going to Dallas tomorrow via Las Vegas -- not very direct, but since it is our lucky week, maybe we should play the slots during our layover -- baby needs a new pair of shoes!

Just to put in my own words what Greg said above, it has been amazing to be here with my family for these big moments. Although we've said throughout this process that things would work out exactly as they were supposed to, at times it was hard to remember. We certainly believe it now. Being here has made an already wonderful event all the more special. I am running out of adjectives, so I'll sign off and start packing.

-- Jane

I'm back (now that Jane has again allowed me access to my computer).

We just talked on the phone to Peggy, the woman who has been Alexandra's "transitional care" provider since she was born. More importantly, we talked to Alexandra over the phone, and she's clearly a genius.

Here's what we learned about Alexandra: She's a good baby, very calm, with "just the right amount of hair to be pretty." She's got long arms and legs, and has a good appetite -- eating two ounces of lactose-free Similac every three hours. She doesn't spit up all that much (only two times in her first two weeks); she's very alert (she turns her head and follows when people talk to her); and her navel is healing quite well. Peggy doesn't think Alexandra has hit six pounds yet, but has noticed her little arms and legs "filling out."

We also learned that Alexandra has a more active social schedule than we do. Yesterday, she (and Peggy) went to a luncheon at the adoption agency, along with several other babies; Peggy assured us that Alexandra was the "superior baby" there. Alexandra also went out to dinner with Peggy and her family last evening, and she went to Peggy's bridge game last Sunday. Peggy said that the bridge group was already inquiring if Alexandra was going to be at bridge again this coming Sunday; unfortunately for Peggy's bridge group, we have other plans for her. I'm afraid that our rather boring social lives may not meet Alexandra's young expectations.

As I mentioned, though, the neatest thing was that we actually talked a bit to Alexandra. She was cooing and burbling, and Peggy put the phone up next to her. Jane started to cry. (I did too, but I was also laughing, and so Jane thinks I was just laughing at her. Don't tell.)

One other neat thing we learned is that Peggy has been taking a photo (at least) every day of Alexandra, so we'll have a complete chronicle of her first few weeks -- that is, if we can convince Peggy to let us have copies of the photos.

Seriously, though: We thanked Peggy for everything that she is doing. She has years of experience being a transitional-care provider for our agency (in addition to being a grandmother several times over), and so she has seen many, many babies go in and out of her life over the years. (Coincidentally, her last transitional-care baby was also an Alexandra.) I cannot imagine doing what she is doing. She is an angel. But it gives us a great sense of peace to know that our new daughter has been, and continues to be, in such good hands. It makes our eagerness to get to Texas right now just a little more bearable knowing that Alexandra is in the care of such an experienced caregiver.

Maybe Peggy would like an extended, all-expenses-paid trip to Virginia until I feel comfortable with my experience level? Just a couple of years; that's all. I'm sure there are some lovely bridge clubs out our way.

-- Greg

Monday, July 31, 2006

This is officially a vacation to remember.

First, let's back up about a week. We left Washington for Colorado the Saturday before last (July 22). One of the nice things about coming out here to the mountains is that the cell phone service is spotty at best, and when we're actually in the mountains, hiking, cell phone and BlackBerry service is nonexistent. So if anyone calls one of our cell phones, it often doesn't actually ring through, and the caller has to leave a voice mail. Of course, that means our cell phones typically won't tell us that we have voice mail waiting (like they do when we're at home), and so we have to call our voice mail sporadically just to see if we have a message. And when we're on vacation, we just don't want to do that all that often. (And it goes without saying that I don't want to check my voice mail at work when I'm on vacation.)

I told you that story to tell you this story. Jane finally got around to checking her voice-mail messages last Tuesday, July 25, and she had several frantic voice-mail messages from Melissa, our caseworker at the adoption agency we've been working with. It was a perfect storm of unavailability: Melissa had also left two voice-mail messages at my office, and had even left one for Jackie, my secretary -- who had taken a vacation day (apparently, it's not enough of a vacation for Jackie that I'm out of town).

It turns out that a young couple in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area had just had a baby, had seen our "book," and had expressed interest in us being the adoptive parents. Usually, Melissa would call us and ask us if we approved having our book go out to certain birth parents, but since this was so sudden, and since Melissa knows us (and knows that we had always said 'yes' to having our book go out), she acted. But that meant that, for the first time, our book had gone out and we didn't know about it. Blissfully ignorant of all the parts in motion, we left for Colorado, went hiking, spent time with family, and so on.

So, sitting in a car in the parking lot of a little amusement park near downtown Estes Park (where our nephews were riding go-karts, and one of the few reliable places for cell-phone service in the area), we called Melissa back -- only to get her voice mail. So, while Jane was leaving Melissa our message, I did what I often do, to Jane's great irritation: I started giving her additional information to leave on the voice mail. What I was telling her was to tell Melissa to send me an e-mail if she couldn't get Jane on the telephone, because -- unlike cell-phone service -- my BlackBerry works just fine at the house out here.

A few minutes later we got an e-mail from Melissa -- "call me" in the subject line, and no content except for her phone number. We got back to the house, called her, and this is what we learned: The birth parents had seen a number of "books," and both of them had liked ours. The birth mother wanted to talk to us, though. She had had a little girl on July 19, about five weeks early (which is not even "premature" any more, thanks to the great advances in medical science), 5 pounds, 6 ounces, and 18 inches long. Great APGAR results. Both birth parents had signed the papers indicating that they wanted to make an adoption plan for the little girl. Were we interested?

Jane looked at me (we were both on different phones in the same room) and I nodded as if to say, "He[ck], yes!" (I think Jane was ready to crawl through the phone line.)

Well, without making this too long, too boring, and too filled with drama that was only dramatic to us, here's what happened between then and today, July 31. On Thursday, July 27, we learned that the birth parents had "officially" picked us, subject to one thing they needed to work out between themselves over the weekend. Today, we learned that they had worked that out, that the birth mother saw no need to talk to us before approving us as the adoptive parents, and that we could do placement in Ft. Worth either this Thursday, August 3, or on Monday, August 7. (We picked Thursday. Duh.)

So, we introduce you to Alexandra Rachel Castanias. We don't even have a picture yet, but we already have all the love in the world for her.

It was neat that we got this news while we were out here, with Jane's parents (John and Anne), and Jane's brother and sister-in-law (John and Pam) and their kids (Libby, age 7; Megan, age 6, and Johnny, age almost 2). We called my Dad (Jess), my brother (Rich), and Rich's wife, my sister-in-law (Nelle), who got to tell their kids (Amber, age 16; Cleo, age 7; and Jack, age 6). We also called Jane's siblings who had just left Colorado, and so had been here for all the drama but none of the resolution: her brother (Joe) and sister-in-law (Jaime), who got the privilege of telling nephews Sam (5), Noah (approaching 3), and Jill (about 4 months); and Jane's sister (Kate).

Meanwhile, back at the ranch: John and Pam had, unbeknownst to us, purchased a bottle of champagne with a ribbon on it, but they had been storing it in their minivan -- so John got to test out what he'd learned watching "Mythbusters": that the quickest way to chill a warm bottle of wine was to put it in ice water with a substantial salt content. (It works.) John and I went out and bought additional liquor, wine, and ice; Pam made dinner; John and Anne called or e-mailed everyone they know with the news; Libby and Megan gave their Aunt Jane big hugs (what, nothing for Uncle Greg?) and Libby offered Jane advice on dealing with babies. Johnny, who had earlier that day been very excited to learn that Uncle Greg could quack like a duck, kept saying "More duck! More duck!" The good news is that Johnny may have kept the best perspective on everything; the bad news is that I think I am destined to become "Uncle Duck."

But that's okay. I'm also going to be known as "Dad."

Onward to tomorrow.

-- Greg