Separated at birth?

A year ago around this time, I explored the possibility that my dad wasn’t actually my dad. Oh, if only wishing made it so. Just look at this guy.

Despite every effort, I came to the unfortunate conclusion that I was, in fact, related to the man, and I’m slowly coming to terms with it. But in my day-to-day activities, I still can’t help encountering other people who are suspiciously similar to me in appearance. Since I’ve established that my dad is my dad (and I know from harrowing experience that my mom is my mom), that leaves only one other theory: I have another sibling, and we were separated at birth.

So, just like last year, I conducted an extremely scientific Google Image search to find out, once and for all, if I have any long-lost siblings floating around in the world. After weeks (OK, minutes) of painstaking research, I’ve narrowed the list of possibilities to 10. I recommend clicking the photos for bigger versions, so you can really see the similarities.

Conan O'Brien

Any one of the Three Amigos

A gorilla

Elliott from E.T.

R5-D4 from Star Wars

Gerald Ford

World's Strongest Man competitor

Those weird-looking people from that weird Twilight Zone episode

Patrick Bateman

Donald Sutherland from Animal House

What do you think? Any of those candidates jump out at you? Yeah, me neither, but I guess it never hurts to exhaust all possibilities. But if I ever start getting really into Huey Lewis and the News, be sure to keep your distance.

The Old Man and the Eliza II: The Weekend

It was about 15 months ago that I provided a running diary describing the trials and tribulations of the first time I was left alone with my dad. Give it a quick read and enjoy the innocence. Imagine a time when it was a big deal that Dad had to watch me for three whole hours. Also, I was an adorable newborn.

Why am I bringing this up? Because Mom went out of town for the weekend, leaving Dad in charge. It’s just him and me for two full days – and that’s not including Monday morning when he’ll be pulling double duty, getting me ready for daycare while he’s also getting ready for work.

To show just how far we’ve both come since November 2011, I’m providing another running diary of our time together. Will Dad survive the ordeal? Will we manage to leave the house? Will I spend the entire weekend in one outfit? Read on and find out.

Saturday

8 a.m. I wake up and quickly let Dad know. He’s already up, so he warms up some milk for me for a pre-breakfast snack. After that, breakfast today consists of an egg, grapes and Cheerios.

9:30 a.m. Playtime in the living room. This includes a fun game of hide-and-seek. I haven’t really gotten the hiding part down yet, but I’m learning.

 

11 a.m. We leave to go to Target, where Dad buys the Star Wars trilogy on Blu-Ray, which he allegedly will try to watch during his “free time” over the weekend. Excuse me while I laugh. We then stop next door at Barnes & Noble, where he buys me a new book. Now I feel bad for laughing at him.

12:45 p.m. Nap time!

3 p.m. After more than two hours of napping [Editor’s note: Hooray! Watched Episode IV in its entirety, although I skipped over the trash compactor scene], I’m up and ready to roll. Dad makes me a late lunch of white chicken chili mixed with elbow macaroni. It looks like fake vomit (of course, so does most of the stuff that I eat), but it’s actually pretty tasty, so I gobble it down.

3:45 p.m. We head south to Tukwila to watch my cousin Maddie’s indoor soccer game. I get an up-close look as she makes a few great saves, and her team wins 3-2.

5:45 p.m. Back home in time for dinner (more of the chili-macaroni mixture, and a banana), which I again devour.

6:45 p.m. After some playtime, it’s time for a bath. I splash around with my boats while dad futilely tries to shampoo my hair, which has become crusted with chili.

7:30 p.m. Bath’s done, diaper’s changed, PJs are on – it’s bedtime, folks.

Sunday

9 a.m. I sleep in! Dad rejoices.

9:30 a.m. Breakfast today is another egg, followed by Cream of Wheat.

10 a.m. Not ready for a fast-paced day, I curl up in a comfy chair with a good book.

10:03 a.m. OK, enough of that. Let’s party! My new favorite thing to do is to climb onto the ottoman and then get a few good jumps in before Mom or Dad swoops in to grab me. They enjoy this a lot less than I do, and Dad puts the kibosh on it quickly this morning.

10:45 a.m. We hop in the car and head to Camp Long, a park near our house. It’s one of my favorite places to go on walks with Dad, with acres and acres of wilderness right in the middle of West Seattle. There’s nobody here today, so I have the entire grassy area in the middle all to myself to run around.

12:30 p.m. We get home, and I’m ready for a nap.

2 p.m. I’m up and lunch is already waiting for me. What service! Today it’s string cheese, cold chicken and an apple-squash mixture. We then cuddle on the couch and read a few books before I get bored and decide to run around.

4 p.m. We’re out the door again, this time to Bellevue Square, which has an indoor kids’ playground. Known as Kids’ Cove, it’s pretty much like Thunderdome, if Thunderdome had a bunch of slides, big plastic boats and an area for parking strollers. Seriously, it’s dog-eat-dog there. I found this photo online, but it doesn’t accurately portray the madness.

When we were there, there were probably three times as many kids out there. At one point, I may or may not have pushed one of them off of the big ferry. Sorry, kid. Welcome to the real world.

5:30 p.m. We’re headed back to West Seattle, but not before Dad has to change a VERY poopy diaper in the back of our car. Sorry, Dad. Welcome to the real world.

6 p.m. We’re back home, where Dad makes me a dinner of tortellini with meat sauce, with some green beans on the side. I eat exactly one green bean, so dad improvises and cuts me up a few grapes.

6:45 p.m. One final round of playtime. You know, I’m starting to get the feeling that Dad took me to all these active places today just so he could tire me out and I’d sleep better. Dude is diabolical, but I guess he knows what he’s doing. I’m exhausted.

7:30 p.m. Bedtime.

[Editor’s note: Eliza wasn’t the only one who got worn out. Dad’s bedtime? 9:15 p.m.]

Monday

7 a.m. I wake up. Dad comes in, changes my diaper and I down some milk.

7:20 a.m. I poop in the freshly changed diaper. Dad swears.

7:25 a.m. New diaper, then Dad dresses me for daycare, and we’re out the door at 7:35.

7:50 a.m. Dad drops me off at day care, and for the first time since Friday at 5:30 p.m. (62 hours and 20 minutes, if you’re counting), he is officially not responsible for my well-being.

Mom won’t get home tonight until after I’ve gone to bed, so it’ll be just Dad and me again this evening. And that’s OK. We had a fun weekend together, and Dad proved he’s not as clueless as he often appears. Now, if he’d just let me jump on that ottoman...

Tale of the tape: 15 months

The late, great George Carlin once said, “Dogs lead a nice life. You never see a dog with a wristwatch.” Well, you can apply that to babies as well. Babies never have appointments to hurry off to. The only time I’m ever in a hurry is when I run down the hall to the front door every night when Mom comes home from work.

So, ignoring the fact that I can’t express my thoughts verbally and can often be found sitting in a diaper filled with my own urine, I’m fully aware that I’ve got a pretty great life. I don’t need to get a job. I don’t have homework. I get to take baths regularly. People wait on me hand and foot.

Make with the Cheerios, bub. Now.

Another perk of being a baby? Every three months, you’re treated like royalty – in the form of doctor checkups. When you’re an adult, you get to feel special just once a year, on your birthday. Obviously, babies are always the center of attention, but even more so every 90 days. During these appointments, doctors and nurses fall all over themselves to make sure I’m growing up nice and healthy. It’s really quite flattering.*

* Then again, the fact that each appointment ends with me getting shots and/or blood drawn does tend to dampen the mood a bit.

That was again the case yesterday, when I went in for my 15-month checkup. Things went swimmingly – Dr. Lindsay used the term “awesome” once again – and I remain drop-dead average on all of my measurements:

Birth weight: 7 pounds, 7.6 ounces

6-month weight: 17 pounds, 6 ounces.

9-month weight: 20 pounds, 3 ounces.
1-year weight: 22 pounds, 8 ounces.

15-month weight: 23 pounds, 3 ounces. (Fun fact: For the first time, I was weighed by standing on a scale instead of lying in the baby scale. What a milestone!)

Dad's having a harder time throwing me in the air these days.

It's not that surprising, though. Have you seen his arms?

Birth length: 20.25 inches.

6-month height: 26.5 inches.

9-month height: 28.5 inches.
1-year height: 29.5 inches.

15-month height: 31 inches.

Stretch!

Birth head circumference: Not available.

6-month head circumference: 43.5 centimeters.

9-month head circumference: 45.1 centimeters.
1-year head circumference: 46.4 centimeters.

15-month head circumference:  46.9 centimeters.

My head's pretty big, mmmmkay?

As has been the case for much of my entire existence, my head circumference remains well above the other two measurements in terms of how I stack up against other babies. I’m starting to understand why my birth took so long. Sorry, Mom.

Christmas: The Sequel

It has come to my attention that so far for the months of November and December, I’ve published exactly one post on this blog. And that’s not fair. You, my lovely readers, have invested so much of your time in watching me grow, and how have I repaid you? By ignoring you.

Well, that just won’t do. So today, to make amends, I’ll be publishing a recap of all of my holiday exploits. And on top of that, as a token of appreciation for all of your support over the past 14 months of my life (or all 14 months of my life, as it were), I’m going to make a pledge to you right now: I pledge that I will never again go an entire month without updating this blog. You have my word on this.*

* Unless it’s a slow month. Or I’m feeling particularly lazy. Or there’s a “Freaks and Geeks” marathon on TV.

Anyway, on to Christmas. As you might have remembered, our house was quite the winter wonderland (at least, compared to Mom and Dad's meager standards) for Christmas last year. Mom and Dad put up a tree, stockings, garlands, and all sorts of other decorations to celebrate my first Christmas. So you’d assume that, since I’m so much more aware of my surroundings this time around, they’d try to outdo themselves this year. Uh, not so much. Turns out, since I’m now completely mobile – and incredibly grabby – they elected not to put up a tree or anything this year. I guess they figured it wasn’t worth it to put up decorations that I would just break and/or chew on. They were, of course, 100 percent right.

But that’s not to say we didn’t get into the holiday spirit this year. We just took it on the road. Just like last year, Dad took me down to Alki Beach on Dec. 8 to see the Christmas Ships come sailing by. The following Friday night, we went to the Woodland Park Zoo to check out their Wildlights exhibit:

And on Dec. 18, we went with Mom’s family to Warm Beach for their “Lights of Christmas” light display. We froze our butts off, but it was totally worth it.

For Christmas itself, we were again on the road, spending Dec. 22-24 with Dad’s family in Kennewick, and Christmas Day and the day after with Mom’s family in Redmond. (Mom and Dad have worked out a nice system where we spend Christmas Day with one family one year, and then the other family the next year.) We had a wonderful time, although it was nice to spend the night in our own beds after several nights in guest beds/cribs. That said, foreign cribs can be fun: Here’s a video from Kennewick of Grandpa coming up with a new way to tire me out before bedtime:

There were plenty of other memorable moments from Christmas 2012. Here are some photos from our celebrations.

First, from Kennewick:

I'm quickly learning that it wouldn't be Christmas if Dad doesn't pick out some new pairs of Christmas pajamas for me.

Another Rose family holiday tradition: Lots and lots of eating. This I can get behind.

To answer your question -- yes, opening presents while wearing a pink tutu is just as fun as it looks.

I got into the gift-giving action by giving Grammy and Grandpa a book of all my blog posts from my first year. It's safe to say that it was a hit.

Now, on to Christmas Day in Redmond...

It's Christmas morning, and I'm in a state of wondrous shock at the sight of those presents. In case you were wondering, that's the second pair of Christmas pajamas that Dad bought me this year. He has a problem.

Judging by my expression, I'm apparently unimpressed by the notion of getting fruit for Christmas. You don't win friends with salad.

Looking tough on the Plasma Car that Ya-Ya and Grumps gave me.

I was even nice enough to give my cousin Brooklyn a lift.

Mom and Dad gave my cousin Jackson this astronaut helmet. By the end of the day, I think everybody had tried it on at least once...

...including Brooklyn...

...Ya-Ya...

...Auntie Sarah...

...and Uncle Ben.

Mom and Dad gave me this glockenspiel. I guess they figured, since I bang on enough objects around the house, they may as well cultivate some sort of musical ability.

Uncle Ben teaches me a few notes.

Dad got this awesome poncho, which will be perfect to wear during those late-season WSU blowout losses.

It's even big enough for both him and Mom!

I'm working on writing the Great American Novel entirely on a Magna Doodle.

Everybody pig pile on Mom!

Merry Christmas to all!

So yes, there's definitely something to be said for spending your Christmas on the road. And speaking of being on the road, we never went anywhere throughout December without Dad blaring Christmas music in the car. Thank goodness Christmas is over, because I’m not sure I could’ve taken one more verse of “Feliz Navidad.”

Happy Holidays, everybody! I'll see you in the New Year.