Celebrating the magic number birthday

Some random Robservations on Gabby’s big day.

¿Cómo fresco es para resolver Dora y Diego?

Now this is what ya call fortuitous timing. On the third anniversary of Gabrielle’s big coming out party, Dora and Diego were in town! The two - with Boots! - were at Tweetsie Railroad. Come one, vienen todos!

Dora is to Gabby what Farve is to Madden - completely, totally, unselfishly in love. I have no idea when they first met or how they were introduced, but since roughly age 1 Gabby’s room became home to a Dora chair, Dora couch, Dora stickers, Dora dolls, Dora books, Dora movies, Dora clothes and, of course, Dora pajamas. I’m shocked she doesn’t yet twang like the Dog WEEEEE-spurr-er.

Tweetsie had public appearances with the double D’s at the top of most every hour Saturday and Sunday afternoon. We had a party at the house Saturday at noonish, then headed West! (Actually, more like south directionally). We missed the cousins Saturday, but - after a close-to 20 minute wait - got up close and personal Sunday afternoon. And yes, Gabby loved it.

As expected, Tweetsie folk were ALL business when it came to meeting the Ds. Stand. Pose. Snap. Next. Stand. Pose. Snap. Next. You’d get more face time with the President, I’m sure. Then again, he doesn’t have a pet monkey.

Hugs are what friends are for
As you may have guessed, Gabby’s boyfriend Carter escorted her to the theme park. They held hands most of the time, and rode most of the rides together. Unfortunately, Carter doesn’t do Ferris Wheels. Gabby had never been on one. Which led to, of course …

No way we’re related
I rode the big wheel with Gabrielle. Here is what fellow riders overheard:

ME: (with death grip on bar) I do not like this. Daddy is not liking this.

GABBY: (laughing) I like it! This is fun! I like it!

(Yes, I am an admitted wuss when it comes to rides which go faster than I drive. I blame the emotional scarring from a Space Mountain trip when I was four-ish).

That was Saturday. Sunday Gabby went on the big wheel with her Sissy (The Teen) and Teen’s Friend. This time she would have none of it. They were one of the first loaded on and by the third revolution of disembarkments the operator stopped to let her off. I blame the company.

Tee-pee sweetie
I think it’s a local law that if you’re under the age of 9 and with a parent, you HAVE to get your picture taken here. After this was snapped, they spent the next two minutes chasing each other in one big circle. Would that be a tee-pee hee-hee?

No, Diego is not in his Fab Five … yet
Yes, Big G had fun at the train track too. He got to feed some deer (from his hand!), crawl and bounce in an airwalk and star intently out the window of the train itself while cowboys and Indians acted out battles behind him. (He has no interest in off-Broadway theater).

At one point Gabby, Carter and mom headed off to ride the Tweetsie Twister. Big G and I relaxed in the shade. And by relax I mean he squirmed, whined and fussed until I let him have my cell phone. He didn’t use all my minutes, but now I can’t get Michael Jackson to stop texting my phone. (I know, that was wrong and creepy. Sue me.)

Meanwhile, back on the Twister
Yet another ride Gabby loved. Yet Carter pulled a Rob. When the ride ended and the trio went to leave, Gabby yelled, “Again! I want to ride again!” Carter would have none of it. (I feel for ya bro, but even I’ll ride that).

My wife knows how to make a serious cake
See that frosting-encased sugar rush right there, behind the mugging birthday girl? That’s the princess castle cake created by my wife. I’m not sure what is more impressive, that:

- It’s her first such cake
- She did it within three hours prior to the party
- Everyone thought she bought it
- Did I mention it was her first such cake?

As an aside, she went on a cake mold buying frenzy when she got those pieces (ebay rocks). During that splurge she purchased some football molds just for tailgate season. How cool is that?

More birthday weekend photos are here at my picasa gallery. Enjoy!

Feliz cumpleaños, Gabrielle!

Gabby turned 3 Saturday. It’s a magic number, you know. And yes, this is gonna be a tough birthday gift to top.

Signs you may not be a typical dad

Some random Robservations.

- You take your daughter to a new church for Vacation Bible School and hang out in case she gets fussy. Looking around, you notice that of all the other parents there not volunteering, you’re the only dad.

- You are capable of having deep intensive discussions on the local thrift store scene.

- More than once you’ve chastised your wife for not knowing how to properly load the dishwasher. Plus, you’re a bit irked when she touched it cause the kitchen is your job anyway.

- You watch P.S. I Love You with your wife and tell her it was a great movie. And you mean it.

- When at Ingle’s you use the racecar shopping cart so your daughter can “drive” around the store, and you run near full speed down at least two different aisles and the back meat aisle so she can “go fast.”

Happiness is…

Singing “Rock A Bye Baby” in the school play … while everyone else is singing, “If I Was A Butterfly.”

Original here

I don’t know what made her think she could beat Mike Tyson

One week ago today Gabby completed her first official face plant.

She was running along the sidewalk at her baby sitter’s house when BAM!! One of her feet stuttered. She didn’t even get a hand up to buffer the impact.

Face, concrete. Concrete, face. Now THAT’S a boo-boo.

Of course much wailing ensued. Jamie Lee Curtis couldn’t manage louder shrieks.

When I picked her up a few hours later, her left eye was scabbed, puffy and raw. She would let me kiss it, but only so, so gently. I kidded her that she looked like she had been in a fight. That inspired her to run (no lesson learned there) to her room. She returned wearing some “boxing gloves” (aka mittens) and ready to fight. So OF COURSE I had to grab the camera.

I told her to make her “mean face” and put up her dukes. George Foreman would be proud, though I suspect he’d want the gloves to match.

Fun postscript - We had a birthday party for Big G the next day, Saturday. During the rush to get thing ready, Gabby disappeared. When we found her to leave, she had got into some of momma’s makeup. She had grabbed some lipstick and smeared it ALLLLL over her mouth and ALLLLL over her eyebrows and ALLLLL down one cheek. We could not get it off.

So Gabby went to her baby brother’s party looking like she’d been cast in a Lifetime movie. That, or Harley Quinn to Heath Ledger’s Batman. And no, I didn’t get a photo. Would YOU want this young Rocky mad at you?

This ought to finally shut dad up

Welcome today’s guest blogger, Big G!

Yesterday - Sunday - after months of constant “encouragement” - more like pestering if you ask me - I finally put two and two together and took two steps. Then three … and almost four.

That’s right, cue the music! I’m ready for a step show!

(BTW - I have no idea what’s up with the audio. My theory is dad’s voice is in the dog whistle range as he goes all teenybopper-seeing-justin-timberlake on me)

I admit upfront I’m more Otis from Andy than Michael from Billie, but give me time. I’ll be mastering the dribble drive offense before pre-K. And you think dad was hyper-excited yesterday!

Speaking of which, he has been a bigger pain than two weeks of diaper rash. For months I’ve had to deal with the whole “Gabby was walking at 10 months” … “Gabby was almost running at 11 months” … “Gabby was doing cartwheels at 12 months” …. blah blah blah. It was enough to drive me to drink! (Skim milk, of course).

The final claw was Friday. Dad spoke to some friend of his who has a little girl three days older than me. She took her first steps that day. Once he hung up, it was on! I had better be bipedal in three days cause if a girl could do it, then so could I! (And yes, my dad is the type to use words like “bipedal” as casually as some people say “hello”)

Geez, what am I? An Indy metaphor? You threatin’ me with becoming the next Helio Castroneves!?! Well, if he wanted steps in three days, then by bully I was gonna give him steps in three days!

Not to say it wasn’t fun! And soooooo much easier on the knees. But did he have to go all Bobby Riggs on me?

You just wait until I find some balance and learn how to run. Dad is getting some milk in his sock drawer - post consumption! You just wait!

Happiness is …

Blowing bubbles with a friend.

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Somebody had a case of the Fridays

Most mornings lately I eat a PBJ for breakfast at work. Saves money, and fills my tummy.

This morning I was walking down the hall carrying my jelly back to the frig in the kitchen when I passed the office secretary. She’s a sweet old lady who said nonchalantly “It’s jelly time I see.” To which I responded,

“Peanut butter jelly time! Peanut butter jelly time!”

Sometimes I really hate myself.

This should be made into a Topps card

Here’s Big G’s official one-year-old portrait, brought to us by our friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart. I think the wife got all the bases covered.

Basketball? Check. (With subtle MVP hype)

Football? Check. (Note which ball he naturally clings to)

Appalachian State ball cap? Check.

Appalachian State No. 14 football jersey t-shirt? Check. (Hidden by overalls, but check)

Tennis shoes? Check.

Mark Martin-like product promotion? Check (GoArmy.com nicely positioned on that football.)

Golf club? … I said, golf club? … WHAT! No one brought a driver?

Maybe next year.

Big G turns the Big 1

One year ago today, Big G made his Big Entrance. Or exit, as it were. I’m sure you remember all the details.

As the cliche goes, the past 365 days and approximately 1,675 diaper changes went by fast. Just yesterday it seems he was waking up hungry, screaming when unhappy and trying to crawl around like mad. Actually, that WAS yesterday. (Walk, darn you. WALK!)

Actually, I *have* been able to avoid comparing Big G to the Original G (OG?). Both lil ones are different yet much the same. Both are perpetually happy. Both love to play. And both learned quickly to sleep in their own rooms through the night. (Can I get an amen?!)

Both siblings remain completely enthralled with one another. Gabby is more than happy to play with Big G out in the yard, in her room or in the tub. She does tend to get a *little* too rough at times, but I’m sure she’s preparing him for an All-American NCAA wrestling career one day. (He will eventually learn to flip out of any pin).

When Gabby turned one I admit I got just a tad sappy. It’s a first father prerogative. Thinking back through Gavin’s maiden anniversary, I much less cheesed and much more pleased.

Gabby helped me to better understand my path in this great big ‘ol world. All my decisions led to her. Gavin has taught me just how blessed I am, and how blessed I continue to be. Even during the nights he wailed like a broken fire engine and refused to go easily back into that good night, I would rock him and think about how fortunate I was to have such a inconsiderate pain in my night life. So many others do not.

So most days when I come home from work, my first duty is to seek these two out. We’ll spend all the time to dinner playing in Gavin’s room - wrestling, tossing balls, reading books or just laying around being lazy. It’s the highlight of my day, and I thank the Lord for it.

Happy birthday, Big G. You my man!

By the way, we had a small family birthday party for him last Sunday. Hot dogs and train cake. Yum! As you can see, he fits right in with the fam … I … LEE!

From a family early birthday party Sunday.