Matrimonial Blitz, Day 1: Big Apple, Strained

Dash, Mommy, and Daddy returned Sunday from a whirlwind 4-day trip to New York and New Jersey. We were there for THE social event of the season, as they say: Cousin/Doctor Tahl and Bryan's wedding, which went down at Cousin/Artist Daniel's pastoral farm north of the city, amid goats and donkeys and sheep, oh my!

We arrived late Thursday afternoon at Newark Liberty Airport (for some reason, Newark and Liberty together seems oxymoronic), with plans to meet friends in NYC that evening. Oh, if it were only that simple. First, there was the stop to drop off luggage at Uncle Seymour and Aunt Harriet's (father/mother of the bride) place in Cliffside Park. Daddy's parents, who hadn't seen Dash since he was barely a peanut, were there. Dash, having been confined to laps in an airborne tin can for 6 hours, and perhaps inspired by Daniel's bird shit paintings (no, really) in the background, celebrated his freedom by performing another in a long line of "firsts": crawling.

No sooner did he reach the stuffed seal than we rushed off to the ferry for the city. (File: First Boat Trip AND First NYC Trip.)

Across the Hudson in a mere 8 minutes, we were well on our way to the Upper East Side with plenty of time to spare. Then Obama stopped us. Yes, that Obama. He was in town. Traffic was at a standstill. We jumped off our cross-town bus and made our way for the 6 train on Lexington, only to learn no one was allowed to cross Park Avenue until the President passed. "Yes We Can" became "Uhm, No, You Can't For A Half Hour."

Finally, FINALLY we got to, you guess it, Dash's First Subway Ride.

An hour and a half late, we arrived at Dorrian's Red Hand (proud home of the Preppie Murder in 1986!). On hand were some of Daddy's oldest and dearest friends and their offspring. For the next several hours, the party game was "Pass The Baby." The rules are simple: you snatch the baby from Mommy, and when the baby starts to cry you try to calm the baby before Mommy and Daddy realize the blubbering they hear is the sound of their own overstimulated baby. Kicking off the game was Len, immediately surrounded by every child within 200 yards as if he held the Baby Jesus.

Here, Len's brother, Nich, is likely telling Mommy about Mayor Bloomberg's assault on the NYC school system.

Bill shows off his superior "uncle skills" with Dash.

Len likely telling Nich's wife, Jane (who was also Daddy's best roommate ever!), how the Mets could be contenders if only they had better middle relief.

Making an appearance toward the end of the evening -- long after Len's wife, Amy, and Nich & Len's sister, Mary Lauren, and all 57 of their kids had long since fled -- was David. No, the other David. (Photo unavailable. Please refer to the tiny blonde under "Devotees of Dash".)

Finally, around midnight (still only 9pm our west coast time), it was time to ferry back to Snookiland. The city that never sleeps proved no match for the baby who frequently naps.

All photos ©2011 Garrito

Next up: The drive from hell, to heaven.

First Father's Day

Daddy did as many daddies do on Father's Day. He abandoned his son for golf. Well, for the morning, anyway. Daddy looks forward to the day when Dash is old enough to join Daddy on the links. Free caddies are hard to come by.

Eighteen holes and two dozen lost balls later -- what happens when you don't play for 9 months -- Daddy came home to a great present from Dash and Mommy: a microplane grater and nutmeg. (Who knew nutmeg actually came from a big nut?) The hint was clear. Daddy made his patent-pending vanilla french toast for brunch, adding fresh nutmeg to the mix. Two words: Yum meeee.

Mommy relieved Daddy of all other duties that day, bless her.

Silly Daddy was so busy relaxing that he forgot to take any pictures of Dash. But early the next morning, yesterday, Daddy was in for another treat. Dash, who long ago decided he's too big to sleep on top of his parents, took a nice break on the summit of Mt. Daddy.

Photo ©2011 Garrito

UPDATE: Daddy plum forgot to mention that yesterday, Dash started swim lessons. He took to the pool like Shamu's long-lost, only slightly smaller brother. Daddy is proud to report that Aquaboy actually dove underwater once. Sadly, Daddy's iPhone is not waterproof.

Standing (inn)ovation

Could it be that Dash is following in Cousin Ronan's footsteps? Literally.

Ronan, not one for tummy time as a baby, launched straight from sitting to walking. Dash, on the other hand, has spent so much time on his tummy we've almost forgotten what his face looks like. Then lately, in the past week or so, he's been getting on his hands and knees and -- oomph! -- lunging forward into a face-plant. Especially when there's been a cat to lunge at. Crawling seemed imminent.

Things changed today. Maybe it's the new foods he's been trying -- strained bananas, strained yams, strained peas -- but Daddy noticed Dash straining to do something new in his crib. Dash was pulling at the rail, obviously trying to get up.

Daddy offered him a fatherly hand. It was the least he could do.

Voila! He did it. Dash was standing by himself for the very first time.

Sensing an amazing photo op -- because, to Daddy, that's what it's all about -- Dash was turned around to the front of the crib for maximum visibility. Daddy propped Dash up on the rail and quickly snapped a few shots before gravity could take effect.

Wowee! Daddy hugged Dash and kissed Dash and showered him with compliments and adoration as he eased the boy wonder back into sitting position. Wanting to send Mommy a keepsake of this momentous event as fast as possible, Daddy sat himself down to look through his pictures to choose the perfect one to email.

Then something strange happened. Daddy looked up.

Dash was standing. By himself. Wait, what?

Dash was looking very pleased with himself. Daddy, in equal parts shock and awe, went back over to his son. He plucked the smug little imp from the rail and sat him down again. Bing! He was up again. Put his hands on the rail and pulled up like he'd been doing it for years. Again, Daddy sat him down. Again, he shot right back up. This time, Daddy reached back for his camera. But a photo simply wouldn't do this time.

All photos and video ©2011 Garrito

Negligent Daddy

Daddy has failed. He has failed his son and he has failed himself. The world has been deprived of photos and videos and tales of Dashiell Benjamin's conquests and adventures. Here he is close to crawling, practically doing cartwheels across rooms, becoming a gourmand, terrorizing cats, charming women and cashiers everywhere, even playing classical piano (Row, Row, Row Your Boat is classical, right?, and pushing one key to hear the song is technically "playing," right?), and you probably thought he just sits around being cute.

You know what this means, don't you? No, I guess you don't. What this means is it's time for the photo equivalent of an 80's Movie Requisite Montage Scene. Here are some pics of Diaper Dash from the past few weeks.

Riding in an upside down drum with classmate Saskya (to the song Merry-Go-Round) at Music Together:

Checking to see if those bottom teeth started coming in yet: (They haven't.)

A visit by Aunt Cori and Cousin Ronan, who, at almost two years old, is a junior skyscraper:

Handsome, ain't he?

Dash in attack mode:

Java the Cat awaits further love/abuse from Dash:

Daddy takes Dash on a tour of Bob's Red Mill (a Portland institution, the makers of all sorts of whole grain products and the like) after breakfast with a couple other Portland Dads and their progeny:

At home, Dash being Dash:

Two-thirds of Dash's grandmothers (Granny Pokey & Granny Nanny) come for a visit, stripping Daddy of cooking & cleaning duties (yes, he went without a fight):

To the swings!

Why, the two grannies even lugged their 2,000 lb. power washer down from Seattle. Daddy went to work on the mold-encrusted patio and stairs. Here are some "after" photos, showing the red brick. Suffice is to say the only red in any "before" photos would have been Daddy's face in embarrassment that he let his little biological experiment go too far.

Not to get side-tracked. After all, this ain't The Daily Chore. Here are Dash 'n' Daddy at Portland's famous International Rose Test Garden, where they're apparently testing really, really late-blooming roses, 'cause nothing was in bloom.

Has Daddy mentioned what a deep sleeper Dash is? No? Well, this should lay it (and him) to rest. Twice in the last few weeks, our house has been along the parade route of the local elementary school's drum corp rehearsal. They sound amazingly similar to a fusillade of unsyncopated bombs flattening our neighborhood. Somehow, their crescendo of crap has failed to stir the napping prince. Here is the march madness, just begging for my first-ever "Get the hell off my lawn":

Here's Dash at his final infant Music Together class. As you can see, he's developing impressive musical taste:

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the teething continues.

"Hmmm...what else can I teethe on?"

This past Saturday, Daddy walked Dash down to watch the Rose Festival Parade. We were, oh, a bit late. We caught exactly the last minute and a half of the parade. With interest like this, it's probably best we didn't sit there for two hours.

On Sunday, we met friends Sarah and Don, their 4-year-old, Ava, and new pup, Vida, at the park.

All photos ©2011 Garrito

And that brings us up-to-date. More Dash coming real soon. Maybe almost daily!

A solid start

Last week, Dash made history (for him, anyway) by eating solid food (semi-solid, anyway) for the first time, not counting his steady diet of stuffed animals, chew toys, and Daddy's fingers. His plat du jour? Why, rice cereal mixed with milk d'mama. His reaction? We'll get to that. First, let's see how Mommy enticed Dash to try the treat.

Yes, the tried and true "if it's good enough for a crazy person, it's good enough for you" method. Dash still wasn't completely sold. Notice the subtle body language.

And then the train actually enters the station.

The verdict? "Meh, not so bad. I could do worse."

All photos ©2011 Garrito