No news is no news

We are officially into RUBY birthstones now for the child who will eventually be the boy formerly known as Baby Pat.


I found the baby calendar I kept for Patrick’s first year as I cleaned  the basement this week.  It brought back every kind of memory.  Most of all, it reminded me how rapidly the baby stage evaporates.  One moment you are 100% in control of your little blessing, and then all of a sudden- they roll over.  Patrick’s first roll(s) may have taken him from the middle of the bed to the floor below as his terrible Mom used the bathroom. That kid never did anything nice and easy!  I can still recall sobbing and hating myself.  In those days we had a low bed and soft carpet so  Patrick barely missed a beat.  On the other hand,I wanted to bubble wrap him for the ensuing decade.  Or sedate myself. I thought DCFS would be at the door within the hour.


I will post here as soon as I am officially a GrandMom.  My beloved painter, Rick Adamczyk, rushed a hallway wallpaper/painting job so that it would be complete before life goes tri-generational.  In fact, he is going to be a Grandpa in the next week as well, and that probably accelerated his desire to finish.  It is odd how stapled we are to each other:  He first worked in my old house when we were young parents.  Among other things, he painted a beautiful mural of a Teddy Bear on the ceiling of Patrick’s new “big boy” room.  Pat claims it scared him, though we all know that he was enraged to give up his room to the upstart Mike Dahl.   His first week in that room, he A) scratched off the wallpaper at the seams, B) urinated on the wall and C) emptied a bottle of Prell shampoo in great green big spirals on his new blue carpeting.  Mike was 1, and Matt was incubating.


I did not cope well with the scene.  I called Steve at WLS, hysterical, and of course, Steve put me on the air so everyone could enjoy my panic and despair.    Jim Haugland, a local carpet cleaning guy, and a guardian angel,  heard my hysterical ranting and brought his truck to extract the soap.  Can I tell you how much foam shampoo makes in carpeting?  He had to de-foam constantly, sending bubbles into the street.  Rick had to re-paper every strip Pat defaced.  Now, twenty odd years later, we are on to the next phase.


I imagine that Pat’s creative genes will attach to his son.  I just hope BP uses his creativity for good, not evil.  And I strongly advise Pat and Rachel to NEVER buy Prell.  The green dye is the devil, and the bubbles are a force to be reckoned with.  Just Like Pat.



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