Zeke was ALWAYS getting ear infections. I remember because it was always like, “hey Zeke, you look a little red, wait a minute, don’t pass out from that 105 DEGREE FEVER, oh. wait. It’s just another ear infection…ice him down, he’ll be fine”

Poor little dude. Zeke’s doctors diagnosed his ear problem as “unusual” and “rare” he had “stalactites and stalagmites growing in his eardrums.” I still don’t understand it, but we all had the images of them from his ear x-rays. There they were clear as day…little rock-like formations in my brother’s ears.

I remember the odessey my family took to get Zeke some of those “new fangled” tubes. I think we ended up at Children’s Hospital in Philly for the surgery and how nervous my parents were. And oh I remember the drama if you got the poor kid’s ears wet. The silly putty ear plugs and the no-fun beach time. God. That sucked.

And then, poor Zeke, there was that episode with the He-Man Sword and the eardrum. Word to the wise, it turns out that small boys should NOT be given anything smaller than their ear canal, or their nasal passageways for that matter, because just maybe, said small boy might need to stick that small and pointy object, in their ear, or up their nostril. Now I am not saying I know anybody who has punctured their ear drum with a He-Man sword or visited the hospital TWICE to have popcorn kernels removed from their nose. AND I certainly don’t know someone who still has a tiddlywink stuck way up in their left nostril. Nope, no one that I am related to, no way.

*God, I so want to make an “I HAVE THE POWER” joke and somehow tie it into tiddlywinks but I can’t seem to make it work, thoughts?*

So yes. I know my way around an eardrum. Eustation tubes and I, old pals.

When Jack was on his third ear infection in so many months I pushed for a referral for an ENT. “Wait,” said our pediatrician, “he might outgrow it…” and lo, 3 weeks later the child has another ear infection, a double doozy it seems (his ears are GREEN, no lie) and lickity-split we’re in the ENT offices.

After a faster than the speed of light examination and a hearing test, where we determined that the kid couldn’t hear a damn thing, we ended up with the head of Pediatric ENT surgery at Mount Siani telling me that normally he doesn’t recommend immediate intervention but in this case he’d like to get Jack into surgery in the next 2 weeks. Fine, “sign us up “was my exact response.

April 7th. Tubes dude. Tubes.

Hollis was my first dog ever, and while Sarah had innumerable animals in her home growing up, Hollis was my first. We had him for 12 years, and I feel like we gave him good life. We rescued him from the streets of Queens and whisked him away to the luxury of TriBeCa, Chelsea and eventually the Upper West Side. He got to roam in Connecticut where he enjoyed nothing more than sneaking off into the woods to find dead things to roll around in. We took him to Maine, Washington D.C. and pretty much everywhere else we went for the past 12 years.

He was a world class snuggler, and even when he drove me apeshit I still loved him.

He was my dog. My first dog, and I’m crying as I type this because I can’t believe he’s gone.

Last year, this is where we were. Today, I cried because Jack pulled himself up to a standing position while watching the US Open.

I am dork. A dork with a huge sense of history.

The House

The Jenny Lake Ferry

The view from the backyard of the Teton Mountains

Trying out the Kelty Kids Touring Framepack

The view from the ferry

Here’s a whole bunch of pictures from the trip:

Big Bison in Yellowstone National Park

pots

Moose!

Bison crossing the river

As I mentioned earlier, Jack had his first encounter with the ocean. And while I didn’t end up just throwing him in, he did try it out, as you can see below. I was slightly disappointed because Jack did’nt even try to eat a fistfull of sand, although, I am assured by Gran E that I’ll get my chance. In the end, I would say that Jack’s first trip to the ocean had mixed results, but we’ve mooched our way into a weekend at the Jersey shore in two weeks, so he wont have to wait long to try it again.

Bottom line for the weekend: Lobster dinner is delicious and there is nothing funnier than seeing a baby that is simultaneously terrified and fascinated by the water.

Playing with Great Grandma Dorothy.

More playing.

“It’s new, but I can handle it”

“Whats all the fuss about? Drop me in there!”

“I AM NEVER GETTING WET EVER AGAIN!!!”

In fact, I’m teaching him how to swim in the bathtub. This is in advance of our planned trip to the East Hampton next weekend where I intend to throw him in the ocean.

According to my Mother, my Father threw me in a pool when I was three weeks old. I figure, I survived, so Jack should be just fine. Plus I’ve given Jack an additional 8 months to prepare. Mostly to compensate for the fact that I’m throwing him into the Atlantic Ocean, not a swimming pool on top of a skyscraper on Lake Shore Drive. But also ’cause I’m a big softie.

See below for photos from training camp.

Swimming!

Almost ready to get out of the tub.

“Father, please remove me from this bath tub as soon as possible.”

Ahh fatherhood.

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Has several warts (what? they build character) and very, very lovely long smushable ears.

Ideal owners must lack a sense of smell. Also? They must be cool with a dog in diapers.

That’s right. The cease fire has been lifted.