July 19, 2011
It has been brought to my attention that I am not posting nearly enough baby pictures. That any time I let a day go by without including a photo of Ike, a grandmother's heart gets broken. Some general updates on him would also be nice, but don't trouble yourself too hard or anything, because the words are super easy to skip over.
Baby Ike, at just one day shy of seven weeks old:
Baths are his favorite. Except for maybe teh milks, and butt pats, and getting butt pats while also getting teh milks, and one day he is going to figure out how to get butt pats and teh milks while ALSO getting a bath, and then his life's work will pretty much be complete and he can just chill for a few years.
(Tub is the Prince Lionheart washPOD. Also known as a "fancy-ass bucket.")
I think he looks like Noah. But we keep calling him Ezra.
I thought by going out of our way to find a name that wasn't another two-syllable-ends-in-the-ah-sound name that we'd avoid some of the name-related Tourette's. So far, it's not working, and every other sentence around here begins with a senile stream of "NOAH EZ CEIB IKE MAX YOU THERE" nonsense. Even when I'm actually not even trying to call any specific living thing in our household, but have simply momentarily forgotten the word for teapot.
Most of the time we just call every last one of 'em "Buddy" and call it a day.
And while we're on the subject of names...I was still in the first trimester when we settled on the name "Ike" for a boy. Jason and I were out at dinner and he was playing with one of those name-suggestion generator sites on his phone, and after inputting Noah and Ezra and several of our previous runners-up names, "Ike" popped up.
At first I laughed, because:
But because we are twisted, awful people, it turned out that the South Park connection wasn't really much of a negative. In fact, it probably was the deciding vote in the "pro" column, and we settled on Ike after less than five minutes of discussion.
You may remember this post, in which I fished for your opinions about the whole formal name/nickname thing while TRYING to not give too many details away that would make everybody figure out I was talking about Isaac vs. Ike. Your comments were incredibly helpful but incredibly divided. There was zero consensus. None consensus.
So in the end, I found out that Noah's occupational therapist had a friend named Ike, short for Isaac. I asked her to ask him what he thought we should do. He voted for including a formal name option, because while he only ever went by "Ike," he used Isaac on resumes and business cards and found it handy for correcting people who thought his name was "Mike." No, Ike. Short for Isaac. Etc.
Done. Thanks, random stranger!
Of course, now I'm not sure what to do about a certain passive-aggressive relative who insists on calling Ike "Isaac" all the time. That's not his name! I mean, it is, but it's not. GAH WORMHOLE.
(Oh, and yes: the blog nickname of "Baby Ikea" was a not-very-subtle hint. We never managed to agree completely on a girl name and joked that Baby Ike would just become Baby Ikea in case of a delivery room surprise. But then that nickname stuck anyway, because you know. I LOVE ME SOME IKEA.)
(And yes yes: I am aware that this post is hanging on by a narrative THREAD, and that I am basically just typing whatever pops into my head at any given moment hey this coffee is cold I need to shower I am soooo not telling Jason that Ike puked on his pillow just now.)
And this is the last time I'll bring up Winnie the Pooh. Except to point out that Noah willingly gave this to Baby Ike, so Baby Ike could have a friend, and don't you just die, and maybe almost momentarily forget all those times Noah screamed and shrieked and generally flipped his shit at Ezra for like, LOOKING at his Legos or being in the same ROOM as his cars? No? Yes?
Almost. But not quite.
Okay, last one and then I'm out:
Parenting dilemma of the smartphone age: Your baby will sort-of smile at you RIGHT when you're busy messing with settings in Hipstamatic and this momentous occasion will be forever preserved using a washed-out filter you don't like, dammit.
And then you will switch to a regular camera and your baby goes all, bish, plz, I ain't your monkey.