Dad, are you and Uncle Billy really gonna open a miniature golf course?

The Lollapalooza line-up was released today and let me tell you, I am a little disappointed. Well, for $90 per ticket I am a lot disappointed. What does that have to do with my day? Absolutely nothing. Another non-sequitur? Mr. Swirley just pulled a totally frozen bottle of milk out of the freezer. Not in a bag. In a bottle. Excellent.

The last few weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind. We spent Memorial Day weekend in Madison where Mr. Swirley, Pughbert and Susie Q ran a half-marathon in record time, spicy cheese bread was consumed on the square, we picnicked on Kathy’s back porch, celebrated the last few days of Ms. Kaiksow’s bachelorhood and I ruined our new car. Let’s just say the early bit of the weekend involved a trip on the Beltline, an adult entertainment store, an exchange of cash (including two $1 coins), a conversation in broken Spanish and a disbelieving husband. Then we went to the Plaza.

New Union South and some fancy leg work.
Ahh. Home sweet home. Er, I mean the Plaza.

Kids’ table at Kathy’s. Clearly the place to be.
Hippies in Madison? On the Capitol Square?  Weird.

After the race EK hung out with his gramps and Mr. Swirley and I rested. I know Mr. Swirley ran a race and all, but I had to run just to make sure I met up with him to take a few pictures. Can you imagine? And I didn’t even train. I would post said pictures but blogger sucks. Here are some pictures from Tommy D.

EK seemed to enjoy his time at the Children’s Museum with gramps which is a good thing since we spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince him to nap so we could go to bed. Aren’t we good parents? You know you would do the same.

I recently found the script for Overboard online. Call me if you want in.

Just think how happy you would be if you lost everything you have right now, and then got it back again.

I wanted to take a picture of Sophie with the Target lady who paraded that sweet little giraffe out to us this morning …but was too lazy. Let me assure you, we are very happy and my faith in mankind is restored! Sophie is also quite pleased. It is very lonely in the Target lost-and-found. And apparently very dirty.

Mr. Swirley informed me that Ellis can’t touch Sophie until we give her a proper steaming. He evidently felt it necessary to stress this point since I “let” Ellis lick floors (e.g., yesterday he licked the ground at the park, floors at Patagonia and some little boutique and today, Ho-Ho’s floors.) So what do I care, right? You can go ahead and judge me all you want, but try to stop a nine month old from licking the floor. It’s impossible.

If the world ends tomorrow, at least EK had one more night with sweet Sophie.

Granny Panties. n. A pair of underwear which are usually 1) larger than the woman who wears them. 2) Very stretchy and elastic. 3) The best pair of undies you’ll ever wear.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Swirley, I have decided to post his advice to an expectant dad as a “guest blogger entry”.

On what to bring to the hospital:

    Just a couple of things. (1) I wish I had more treats/snacks/food/drinks. We had a fridge in our room and although the place had little sodas and juice cups, having actual food for late night snacks (like a sandwich or churro) available would have been nice.  And (2), pillow and blanket from home would have been nice too.  It wasn’t the greatest sleeping on the pull-out chair thingy they had.   
   Other than that, just slippers and a good bar of soap is all you need. 
   Oh, and a great attitude. 
   And your A-game.
   I think there were a few things in our bags we didn’t use, but I can’t remember off the top of my head.  If in doubt, just have the baby at your place.  That’s what I always say.

On bonding with grandma over her panties
   One of the best memories I have post-birth is shopping for granny panties for Annie with my Mom.  Nothing brings a mother-son bond to a whole new level than staring at a wall of panties with your mom debating which ones are best for your wife.

And breast pumps
  And Annie’s right about the breast pump.  Know how to use it before hand.  Best memory number two is me down stairs bouncing the baby on the yoga ball to get him to stop crying (the ball saved us, do you guys have one?) while Annie and my mom were trying to figure out the breast pump upstairs circa 2am. 

On making memories
The books [bringing something to read] were good.  I never did grab a newspaper from the day he was born.  I guess we can always order an archived paper, but that’s just no fun.

That’s my guy.