Jason Cook"

Weekends go by fast. I’m still not sure how this one is over, already; last I checked it had barely started.

At least we made it out briefly on both days, an accomplishment which, considering the cold, was no small feat. The highlight Saturday was a quick visit to see 5-day-old Sofia, another MBA-year baby, and a particularly cute one, at that. Emmie’s not heavy, obviously, but newborn Sofia just seemed so very light.

On Sunday, we pushed out a little farther, to the other side of town (through Midsummer Commons, past Jesus Green, and over the Cam) for a birthday get-together at Jan and Elsje’s. Emelyn’s wee friend Tabitha was also present — and Emmie actually squealed with delight upon seeing her. (Az and Em saw Tabitha again today, but I’m told that Emelyn hardly seemed interested, and was instead completely preoccupied with Tabitha’s Marmite sandwiches. Go figure.)

All my other equally-gripping tales from Babydom revolve around sweet potatoes - baking them, pureeing them and serving them to Emmie. Rather than narrate at length, I suppose I should just point to this video.

And there you have it. Happy Monday evening, and to all a good night!

I’m thinking I should take up blogging, again. Some things seem too precious not to share.

Case in point: Yesterday, I saw a man in a coonskin cap. I wanted to laugh, but this guy wound up being the scariest-looking dude I’ve ever seen on the streets of Cambridge.

He was tough enough without the hat. For starters, he was real weathered-looking. Like a big mean sailor. Something about him conveyed (and quickly) that this gentleman had already ‘been there, done that’ when it came to speedy resolution of conlicts. Pub fight, street fight, prison fight - check. Fists, beer bottles, butterfly knives - our man was clearly familiar with all the above.

And, as I have mentioned before, he was lumbering around Cambridge, England wearing a coonskin cap. Now, that’s a disconcerting choice of headgear on anyone, but here the effect was downright chilling.

I mean, where does one even procure such a thing? What haberdashery still stocks this item? The souvenier shop in Frontierland, for one, but that’s back in Anaheim, and I’m convinced this man had not been. He wasn’t the Magic Kingdom type, in so many words. Plus, his wasn’t a costume-shop racoon hat, it was gen-u-ine mammal. I think.

This was not a fashion statement. Nor an anachronistic affectation. This coonskip cap was, quite simply, one of Nature’s Little Warning Signs; a distinct cue for other members of the species (human and raccoon, in this case) to keep walking ahead, eyes fixed forward, never looking back.

Or laughing, either.

Hi there. I feel like it’s been a long, long time since I wrote one of these entries on the train ride home. At the same time, Christmas in California seems almost equally far away.

We’re all slowly getting back into the swing of things here. Emmie’s had a tough time of it - it’s hard to say if it’s just jet lag or something more (like upper teeth coming in), but she’s simply refusing to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time.

The big bummer for me is that Emelyn’s been eating solid foods the whole week, and I have yet to witness it. (Well, I fed her her first spoons of rice cereal in LA, but that doesn’t count.) Emelyn’s moved on to super-mashed-up bananas now, and even if I haven’t personally witnessed her eating them, I can at least attest that her diapers have suddenly taken on a zesty tropical ambience which I can only describe as ‘unwelcome’.

Herewith find giggles:

A year ago, Emelyn and Olivia spent a lot of time together in Cambridge, though both ladies were in utero at the time.

Last night was one of those moments we’ve been looking forward to ever since — a chance for both babies to finally meet each other. Here’s a short little video:

It’s been awhile since I’ve had time to edit and upload any video here. Nevertheless, Az and I figured we ought to post something — anything, really. So here’s a few short snippets, in no particular order. All done very quickly, nothin’ fancy:

Tonight was my first ‘night out’ in London; I took leave of Azure and Emelyn to join my co-Googlers for after-work drinks. The occasion seemed special enough: the crew I work with is a frighteningly disciplined/workaholic bunch, so even when I leave at half-six on Friday to catch the 7:15 train, I’m usually the first out the door. The rest stay working until, well, who knows?

Anyhow, blame it on Christmas, Chanukah or just a cheerful holiday spirit, but today we all shut our laptops at six PM sharp, and ran out the door for drinks. And unlike Cambridge, where the choice of beverages varies between ale, lager, and warm ginger beer, tonight we wound up at some fancy London watering-holes that could actually mix a proper martini. (Eighteen dollars a pop, once you figure in the exchange rate, but I strive not to play that particular counting-game anymore. You can’t win.) Our office is an a ‘posh’ neighbourhood, I guess.

And so now it’s 11:30 and I’m still nowhere near home. Azure gets a gold star for actually encouraging me to do this — to skip out with my colleagues for the night — but the (sad? nah, not really) fact is that I’m happy to finally be on the train home, with less than an hour to go.

It’s a long day, this. Emmie woke me at six-thirty-ish this morning, with a few solid slaps to the face — rather sweet, to be honest. See, she sleeps well in her crib, now, but since she’s all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and super-talkative right around dawn, Azure sometimes brings her into bed with the hopes of getting her to calm down for an extra hour of sleep. Which brings me back to those face slaps - Emmie’s in a grabby mood, these days, and while she can’t move around much, if she’s lying right between Az and I, she can still wiggle over and flail her arms so that they hit us right in the nose. With some spririt, too.

I tried my best to sleep though E’s cooing arrival this morning. But no dice. Along with a few successful swipes at my nose, she also managed a respectable uppercut to my chin that actually woke me up (for a minute). Course, all she does at that point is stare at you, with a sort of innocent, “What’s up?” expression.

Yeah. No doubt I’ll be getting more of the same in a few hours. So I suppose sleep would be good thing, right now, on the train, but I’m too scared to slumber through the Cambridge stop.

Regardless, it’s time to shut the laptop. To mis-quote Zero Wing, ‘Main screen turn off.’ — indeed.

Happy weekend!

Gah, what a long week. I was only in California four days, but arrived in a poor way; turns out the long-running on-again-off-again cold I’ve been dealing with is a chronic sinus infection (according to the Google doctor, at least) and so now I’m hopped up on antibiotics and Rx nasal sprays. Whatever my problem is, I know that my eardrums weren’t very happy on the plane, and made various squeaky noises in protest.

Unbelievably, then, I trundled back to Heathrow this morning, yet again. (It was my fifth trip there this month, thanks to Google Space). Reason being that I’d managed to leave my luggage on the Heathrow Express coming home last Friday - never even noticed until I was well off the Underground at King’s Cross. All I can say in my defense is that I was sick and tired at the time, and way too excited about seeing Emelyn again.

She’s grown, of course. In the five days that I was gone, Azure discovered that Em can stand up on her own two feet, so long as she has an object to push against. And her morning chattiness has assumed a more syllabic distinction - along with her trademark “Awwwwhoooo” she’s suddenly mimicking speech a lot better, with “yaaayaaayaaayaaa” being the new and improved mantra.

Elsewhere, Emelyn’s bottom two teeth are indisputable now. Her hairdo carries a little less presence; I nevertheless remain convinced she’s a tad fuzzier up top. She’s also grown into a few more of her dashing little outfits (but remains undecided what to wear on Christmas Eve — so I hear).

And that’s it, mostly We’ve had a couple bumpy nights of controlled crying as we try to find a sleep solution that makes Emelyn sleep on her own for more than 90 minutes at a stretch, which isn’t fun, and we’re dreading the 11-hour flight home with her, but hey - Christmas-time is close, and we’re all happy about that. Hoo-ray for holidays!

Emmie’s all smiles, these days. Maybe it’s due to the holidays, or something, but she’s giving out these cheeky little grins with a generosity that rivals the reformed Ebenezer Scrooge. All you need to do is walk into a room and her eyes start to sparkle; the fact that she’s got no teeth only makes it cuter.

Better yet, the opposite rarely happens when you leave - Emmie’s been pretty good about entertaining herself in our absence. Dunno if this will change soon; I’m expecting it might, once she makes the cognitive leap towards ‘object permanence’ or whatever. But right now, things are pretty easy with her.

Sleep, however, remains the sore point. Emelyn simply isn’t a fan of the big doze. It’s hard to keep her down for more than 45 minutes if she’s alone, and she gets squirmy and fussy whenever her naps last less than that. Plus, getting her back to sleep once she’s up for more than 5 minutes is super-tough, so recent nightlife has consisted primarily of sitting quiet in the living room, and bolting up the stairs if we hear any noise from the bedroom. (No, no, we’re not taking a cry-it-out approach… not just yet. However, our attached neighbors move out in a week, so things may well change.)

The amusing bit, of course, is that we’re on an already-noisy street (and this is one thing that’ll be weird about returning to the US - the sonic buffer of a suburban front yard and a free-standing house will feel a bit eerie, I imagine) so we’re falling for a lot of false alarms. The cry of a cat, the squeal of a bike tire, the high-pitched giggle of pub-goers - they’ve all sent us running for the crib.

Not quite sure this is sustainable. We’ll see…

Emelyn drools a lot, now. It happened fast: I don’t recall her drooling anything at all, and then a couple weeks ago - bang- her hands and mouth became permanently slobbery. More often than not, her clothes are damp when we change her, and she’s quite the bubble-blower at times.

None of this seems to have diminished her adorability quotient, however. (At least in my opinion.) I think this is partly due to her discovering a new series of very cute noises made by putting her hands/toy/bear in her mouth and trying to talk. (Bear, incidentally, really needs a good washing-up, soon.)

Anyhow, I’m not sure what odd germs Bear carries at this point, but Emelyn was immunized against another set of nasties last Friday. Since I worked from home, I had the honor of holding her when the nurse gave her the jabs, which was absolutely no fun for either of us. I’m still impressed, though, with how little Emmie cried - she calmed down within a minute, though she whimpered on a bit longer. Tough girl.

As for excursions, on Saturday, we took Oma on our regular family walk to Grantchester. It’s gotten too cold for The Orchard, now, so the four of us hung out at the Rupert Brooke pub instead. They’ve just finished a remodel, there, and the pub now features a smoke-free family area, an immaculately-clean changing table, free WiFi, and excellent cod & chips. Hard to argue with any of that.

Sunday was a more typically British day, in the sense that we didn’t do much on account of rain. We took Emelyn out in the Bjørn for lunch, with mittens and hat on. Her little nose still got red, though.

And I guess that’s it. Happy Monday…

It’s been a busy week, though I’m quickly learning that these things all become relative. (How I yearn for a quote-unquote “busy week” from grad school days.) I haven’t seen all that much of Emelyn or Oma for a few days, but that’ll change tomorrow.

See, I’m taking the morning off to accompany the ladies on a trip to the US Embassy here, so that Emelyn can obtain her citizenship. (I guess she’s in some weird limbo at the moment, not unlike the guy from The Terminal. Emelyn, however, has the advantage of not having to live at the airport.)

Azure and I have been discussing the logistics of this little adventure for some time. Our appointment is first thing in the morning, so this’ll be a rush hour journey. Madness, really. Plenty of the debate has centered around how we’ll be trucking Emmie around town; a pram is ideal in some places, but a nightmare in others. Baby Bjorn-ing is good on for the Underground, but then again unmanageable for long lengths of time. Right now, I think the smartest option is to take a pram, and pay out the nose for a taxi to take us around town.

Not much else to report, save that the gastronomic adjustment coming back to the UK has been a bit more challenging than the jet-lag. I get a free lunch at work, so I have no business complaining, but today’s entrée was (microwave-steam-cooked) fish kebabs. Honestly, it’s like whoever makes up our corporate menu is using Mad Libs.

Not much new to report, except a gigantic cardboard box sitting in the living room. We finally bought ourselves a real piece of baby furniture, namely, a crib (or a cot, over here). Emelyn outgrew her Moses basket, and now seems intent on pushing herself out of her pram, too.

Updated: A bit later, here’s Em in her crib:

The worst part about updating Emelyn’s blog during the week is that it’s almost all second-hand information. On the weekend, I feel like I’m watching “The Emelyn Show - Live!” with some spectacular new thing happening every hour. In that case, it’s no problem to pound out a few paragraphs detailing whatever Great New Thing she’s been up to. Weekdays are all hearsay, though, another matter entirely.

So, no, I haven’t personally seen it yet (I’m still on the night train home), but Em now has a tiny little chair to call her own. I’ve seen a photo, at least - intra-day news updates come to me via Az - and she looks super-duper-cute in it. It’s remarkable how upright she can sit, and in the picture I’ve seen, she’s got her bobble-head held up to see the world around her. I guess Emelyn loved it right away. Can’t quite remember what the chair is called, but it’s all very sleek and Euro-looking.

Other news to relay is that Em seems to have figured out that Azure is, like, the person feeding her. So instead of staring off into space while having her feed, Emelyn has started to look up at Az, and will try to simultaneously smile or coo at her. Az says it’s weird, and I believe it.

All this isn’t to say that Emmie and I don’t get any quality time together. The two of us trekked to ASDA late last night to get some direly-needed nappies. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before, but Emelyn just loves ASDA. A bit declasse, if you ask me, but then again, where else can one get 4 frozen Yorkshire puddings for just 37p? Anyhow, we made a fine time of it; I made an impulse purchase of Ovaltine, and Emelyn was enraptured by the industrial-sized fluorescent lights. As always.

I just got a fancy 3G card for my laptop, so I’m going to see if I can’t post this from the train, now. Bye!

It’s been an inauspicious start to the week - I just tried catching the 6:45am train to London, which included a mad-dash cycle ride through the dark, only to be thwarted at the very last minute. So I literally watched the train pull out of the station as I ran up to the track, which is one of those things that makes your heart sink. Rough week ahead, I can tell.

Last week was a bumpy one, too. Emelyn went into growth-spurt mode on Tuesday, when I was in Germany. She was feeding every 1.5 - 2 hours, and stubbornly fussing all the rest. Azure was operating solo, those nights, so obviously it wasn’t the best timing.

I’d thought I been through a lot on Thursday evening - I flew back via Air Berlin, a not-so-brand-name carrier, and their disreputable-looking transport (a weird Fokker jet from the early 80’s) delayed my arrival just long enough so that I missed another train - this one being the last direct train home from the airport. Oh, I made it home, in the end, but not without seeing much of Essex by night (empty, dark, featureless), first.

Like I was saying, if Thursday was bad for me, it was worse for Azure - I noisily barged through the door, only to be greeted a wild-eyed “Don’t wake the baby!”. Which told me just about everything I needed to know, and was some sound advice, to boot.

In fact, “Don’t wake the baby” is becoming something of a mantra in our lives. Certainly it’s on the way to becoming our standard phone greeting to any person who dares call us outside the hours of 11-11:30am.

Still, all this stress and worry somehow seems to disappear on the weekends. Suddenly it’s easy enough to put Emelyn to sleep in her pram or the Bjorn; you just have to keep her moving as you go about and do fun things. Saturday we spent just pushing our way through Cambridge, and hanging out on the grass behind the Wren library, watching the punts go past. And Emelyn, of course, was on perfect behaviour the entire time.

We topped that on Sunday by doing even more - Emelyn went for her first train ride, over to Audley End. (It was pretty sweet, actually, the porter insisted we hang out in the first-class cabin, so that Emelyn could have her lunch.) There’s a large manor at Audley End, and some really fantastic gardens to walk around; it’s dozens of acres. The only downside is that the actual Audley End house is a good mile-and-a-half from the station, and through intermittently paved paths - suffice to say Emelyn’s pram boldly rocked the ‘muddy SUV’ look, most of the day. Nice.

Azure, Emelyn, and I all did pretty much the same thing this weekend, namely, sleep, hang out, and eat. Emmie engaged in a fair bit of crying, too, which isn’t really like her. She’s still congested from her cold (no surprise - I’m still coughing, too) and I think it’s waking her up from her naps, and frustrating her, overall. Can’t blame her.

My first night and morning away from Emelyn was at least memorable - I woke up in a very Gosford-Park-ish kind of place somewhere in Sussex, and spent the morning shooting skeet and playing with crossbows. All very enjoyable, too; it must’ve tapped into some kind of paternalistic hunter/gatherer instinct.

In other news, the descent into winter seems to be picking up speed. It’s pitch-dark when the alarm goes off, these days, and the sun has barely cleared the horizon when the 7:15 train rolls out of Cambridge. It’s brisk, too - Emelyn and I went for a long walk yesterday morning and I had to bundle her up pretty good before dropping her into the Bjorn. She still managed to lose both her socks along the way (a recurrent problem) so from here to April, I think it’s time for wee little shoes to be worn if venturing out-of-doors…