A Boy’s Life

I’m watching Robin eat squash soup, all by himself, with a spoon. I tried to get him just to drink it from a cup, but he wants to use the spoon. It’s crazy messy, but I know that it’s good practice for him, and that it’s toddler nature to want to do things the way his parents do. He’s no fool: he can see perfectly well that we eat our soup with spoons, and he’s made it his job to figure out how to do that too.

I actually love watching his care and concentration as he navigates the soup to his mouth. And more than that: there’s something deeply, intensely rewarding in watching my son slurp up his vitamin-packed, all-organic, all-local, cooked-from-scratch squash soup. It’s like with every bite he takes my hindbrain purrs, good mom, good mom. Partly because food = love in my brain, but even more particularly because it’s squash soup, and I associate squash with my mom, so it’s like: Yes! I’m doing it right!

Weird the kind of deep buttons food can push for us, huh? Well, at least the mess is pretty localized, so it’ll be easy enough to mop up later.

So we’re here in Baltimore visiting Nina and Bizzy and the utterly snorglable baby Silas, enjoying the (considerable!) charms of Charm City—we all went to the railroad museum yesterday, and today we’re planning to hit the aquarium. But I want to tell you about our adventure last night, after we’d kissed the baby’s toes for the last time and headed back to our plush hotel.

We knew we needed diapers, so we stopped by a grocery store to pick some up. However we got distracted in there (”We should pick up some bananas!” “How about some cheese?”) and ended up coming out with two full bags that did not include any diapers. We only realized our mistake back in the hotel room, two bananas later, when Robin started tugging at his pants and announcing “Poopy! Poopy!”

He sure was. He was very, very stinky: and we were out of diapers. It was close to midnight local time (we were still awake because it’s three hours earlier in San Francisco). We called down to the concierge and asked if there were any 24-hour groceries or drug stores nearby. He suggested a 7-11 a block away, so Sam set off on foot to buy some diapers, while I stayed back in the room to distract my poopy boy.

Unfortunately, the 7-11 didn’t have any diapers, so Sam was back ten minutes later and I was on the phone with the concierge again, getting directions to a grocery store a bit further afield. Meanwhile, Robin, perceiving that Sam was about to go out again, began expressing his desire to go along. It started with him tugging on Sam’s pant leg and then running to the door: “No,” said Sam, “you should stay here.”

“Maybe we should go with you,” I offered, “I can help you navigate and make sure you can read my directions.”

“No,” said Sam, “it’ll be easier if I just go. You’re in your pajamas.”

“It would only take me a minute to get dressed. The boy can stay in his PJs.”

Sam looked over at Robin. “Well, I guess since he’s already got his shoes on he might as well come.”

“Okay!” I said brightly, and started changing. Somewhere in the middle of that I actually registered what Sam had said. Indeed, Robin was standing by the door in his pajamas and sneakers. “Wait,” I said, “did YOU put his shoes on him?”

“No,” said Sam, “I assumed you did.”

“I sure didn’t. Has he got socks on?”

No, he didn’t have any socks on, and that clinched it: neither of us had put his shoes on him. Robin had put his shoes on all by himself. And yet that, while a notable “first” and an important achievement for a little boy, is only the third most amazing thing about this story!

The second most amazing thing, to me, is the multi-step chain of logic he must have used. “Daddy’s going outside,” he must have thought to himself. “I want to go with Daddy. In order to go outside I’ll need to have my shoes on. I’d better put on my shoes!” I didn’t quite realize he was capable of such logical and ordered thought at this stage.

But the most amazing thing of all is that it worked. Robin was absolutely correct in his thinking. It was because he already had his shoes on that Sam decided to bring him along. He was right!

Robin has developed a bathtime ritual. He did it on his own; it took us a while to even notice. He got a set of dolphin-shaped bath toys for his birthday, and he likes to play with them in the tub. When it’s time to get out he’ll often grab a couple to take with him.

Then we noticed that out of a dozen or so plastic dolphins, it’s always the same two that he grabs: the orange and the light red (there’s also a dark red dolphin, but that one he never chooses). And he only holds on to them while we’re drying him off and putting him in his jammies. Once he’s set loose, the first thing he does is run back to the tub and drop the dolphins back in with the others. What purpose does this ritual serve? We have no idea.

He’s definitely gotten into the stage where he likes his routines. I think he mostly likes being able to make predictions about the world. He gets upset when, for instance, we start walking towards a destination he recognizes, like the park or the grocery store, but then veer off to go somewhere else. I think his understanding of the order of things is foggy enough that he really clings to the parts of it he can predict or control. Sometimes we call him the Iron Tyrant, on account of how harshly he protests when his expectations are violated.

At the same time, he is delighted by small acts of transgression. His very favorite reaction to provoke from us is one of surprise or mild disapproval: not anger, he doesn’t like that at all, but the recoil when (say) he runs up and licks us is hilarious to him. He craves our approval, of course, but it also seems that he craves our disapproval: he needs to know where the boundaries are, and he needs to push them just a little.

So that’s a toddler in a nutshell: he likes his routines, he wants a predictable environment, but at the same time he’s always testing and pushing the boundaries. Trying to bring more of the world under his control. Mwah ha hah, says the Iron Tyrant!

This was supposed to be a fig galette with gorgonzola custard. I was very careful when I made the pastry dough not to overwork the dough; I let it chill in the fridge for a couple of hours and then, again, took great care in rolling it out to the proper thickness; I mounded the figs in the center, folded the dough over, and poured in the custard mixture very slowly, so as not to spill a drop; and then, five minutes before the baking time given in the recipe was up, I smelled the burning.

That was most of an afternoon’s work, completely unsalvagable. I’m posting it here just to show that I have my share of spectacular failures!

Robin has made the leap from babbling “mama” to saying “Mommy” quite clearly when he wants my attention. I was delighted by this for about half a day, until it became clear that he doesn’t just say Mommy. He also cries it, wails it, sobs it: Moooommmeeee, Moooommmeee, with a quaver in his voice and tears shining in his sweet face. It’s a devastating weapon he’s developed, the nuclear option of the toddler world, and he unleashes it at the very slightest provocation. Are the fig bars gone? Moooommmeee, Moooommmeee, as if his little heart were breaking. Have I refused to put in a movie for him? Moooommmeee, Moooommmeee. Is he getting sleepy? Does he want a bath? Will the kitty not let him pet her? Moooommmeee!

He’s a little bit sick—I am, too: it’s just a runny nose and a sore throat. I fear it’s making us both whiny.

Of course just as I decide I’m going to barricade myself in the bedroom he goes and does something weird and cute, like licking me, which is apparently the new game du jour. When I go “ewww!” he laughs like a fiend. And I’m willing to be licked for hours if it means I don’t have listen to the piteous wail of Moooommmeee.

The house deal fell apart and our vegetable box was stolen. Robin poured a glass of water over my cellphone and now it’s a nice paperweight.

I’m reminding myself that at least we all have our health. Somebody at Sam’s work came down with swine flu, so “at least we don’t have swine flu” makes a pretty good refrain. For now.

We had a great time in Nevada celebrating Robin’s second birthday with Nonna, Pappy, the Anti-Sara, Nanita, Marqueño, and Great-Grandparents Elsie, Betty, and Wayne. I took lots of good pictures…and then somehow I lost my camera.

My mom sent me a couple of shots, though. Here, just on the edges of the picture, you can see the outskirts of the giant pile of presents that was brought for Robin. You can’t really see many of them, but you can see that he was happy and enthusiastic about investigating his gifts:

And here’s a shot of the Phillips menfolk, all together:

Mostly since we’ve gotten back we’ve been wrestling with the 203k process for our house. It’s unbelievably complicated and stressful. I wouldn’t recommend these loans, except that there really is no better way (at least for people who aren’t very skilled in construction work) to buy an older house and fix it up. DIY really wouldn’t be sufficient here—in fact part of the problem with the house is that it has suffered somebody else’s DIY efforts, all of which need to be ripped out and redone. And since lending standards have tightened, no bank would fund a conventional loan on a house in this shape anyway. So the 203k program is the only recourse for people like me who love older homes, but aren’t rich enough to buy one that somebody else has already renovated and is looking to “flip.”

Here is just one little part of the story: because these loans are funded through HUD, we are required to hire a HUD consultant in addition to our contractor. The HUD consultant basically gets paid for sitting around with his thumb up his butt for weeks, until the very last moment when he decides to throw a spanner in the works by insisting that our planned repairs will not satisfy HUD’s requirements. He says we have to get a very expensive soil engineer out to inspect the house’s foundation. This obviously causes more delay. Finally when the foundation inspection is complete, the soil engineer basically says “Well, yes, there’s some foundation cracking, which you would find in all older houses. It’s not about to fall down or anything.” HUD consultant insists that we repair the cracks. This adds $35,000 to the proposed scope of work. Sam and I weep and gnash our our teeth.

I don’t even have the stamina to recount all the other crap we’ve been dealing with in trying to close on the house. Suffice it to say that what started out as a $131,000 home that needed $25,000 worth of work is now a $131,000 home that needs $110,000 worth of work.

Obviously with each increase in cost Sam and I have been re-evaluating our commitment to this house. But the truth is that even a $250,000 home in this area is a very good deal (a one-bedroom condo in downtown Oakland goes for $375,000): and after all the work is done, it will be a lovely older home meticulously renovated, with the surface bits done to our exact taste.

There are still lots of things that can go wrong. The appraisal could come in low, requiring us to renegotiate the purchase price with the sellers. Also, the delays caused by the HUD consultant are going to force us to ask for an extension on the closing date: the sellers could refuse. Unexpected fees (like the soil engineer) are piling up, eating into our savings and making me worry about our ability to manage the closing costs. So, this thing is by no means a done deal and every day brings a new storm of stress. This is why I’ve been dodging questions about the house: I don’t really want to talk about it. I’ll let you know if something final happens, one way or the other.

We’re back from a brief visit in Las Vegas to rendezvous with the Cochrans, but dunderheads that we are, we didn’t take any pictures. Still it was great for Robin to get to see his Pops again (Mo, sadly, couldn’t make it) and enjoy the company of his uncle Taylor and aunt Masie. Masie especially was the hit of the trip, as she was willing to play endless rounds of peek-a-boo, tickle wars, and hallway racing games.

We’ll be back in Vegas in a couple of weeks: this time because Sam’s been asked to give a talk (about data visualization using Splunk) at a VeriSign conference there. We’re planning to drive instead of flying, so that on the way back we can take a detour to Reno and celebrate Robin’s second birthday in the company of the Phillipses, and also Nanita and Marqueño, who will be flying out for the party. So that’ll be fun for him. I hope he’s as good in the car as he was on the plane!

The house-buying process is proceeding. We’ve got a contractor (Keith Bupp) lined up to do the work the home needs: he was recommended by a friend and I came away from our first meeting impressed by his easy-going competence. He also confirmed, to my delight, that the original fir flooring is still in place throughout the home (under some ugly Pergo): and while we were inspecting the subarea of the house we found the French doors that originally stood between the living and dining rooms wedged into a dark back corner. They’ve suffered a bit of water damage from being left against damp earth, but they look salvageable. So, hooray!

The biggest news lately isn’t mine, but it’s been occupying most of my thoughts: my BFF Nina delivered an adorable baby boy last weekend. Congratulations and blessings to Silas Archer Karp O’Hanlon: the world feels nicer for having him in it.

So, you all didn’t visualize asteroids hard enough, because we didn’t get that lovely bungalow that we wanted so badly. In the meantime, however, we noticed a little two-bedroom on High Street, only a block away from the first house we tried to get.

It needs some work, but mostly pretty routine and/or cosmetic stuff. It doesn’t look so hot right now, but I can see very clearly how cute it would be if cleaned up just a bit, repainted, etc. We’re expecting to get a federal 203(k) loan, which provides up-front rehab money for renovating older properties, so we’d be able to do all that right away. In general I really like the idea of taking an older, somewhat rundown house and doing the renovations exactly the way I want them, instead of paying a premium for someone else’s “remuddling.”

Besides the fact that it hasn’t been kept up so well, the main drawbacks to this house are: it’s on a busy street, and it hasn’t got a driveway or garage: street parking only. Since we’re used to living in the city the traffic doesn’t bother us, and the street parking thing just isn’t a dealbreaker for us.

I’m putting the drawbacks first so that you can make some sense of the price we’re paying for this house, which is a crazy-low $131,000. That’s the lowest of all the offers we made. (It was actually listed for $109,900, but there were four or five people bidding on it, and we wanted to win.) Even with the work it needs (about 25K—we’ve already got most of the inspections in) it will still be a ridiculously good bargain for the area. Also, it has a nice big backyard; there are cute built-ins; it’s intelligently laid out; and we like the location.

Here’s a link to the listing where you can see some pictures. Keep in mind that these are the “before” shots!

We’ve finally had an offer accepted on a house! I have to make dinner so I’ll post more later.