Fatherhood, From Z to Z

A decade of daddiness

Scott — Mon, 01 Jan 2007 12:37:00 +0000

Ten years ago today, my life was changed forever in ways I never could have foreseen or, prior to that day, appreciated. Ten years ago today, Zach was born.
Zach (a.k.a. Superkid, Zacher, Bud-Bud, and, in a goofy song I sang to him as a baby, Zachary Wachary Doodah Boy) was the little bundle of joy I never knew I wanted. And as a result, I naively approached fathering him—and fatherhood in general—nonchalantly. But as anyone who's a parent knows, to say that kids change your life in profound ways is a gross understatement. And Zach definitely changed mine.

Sure, I still listen to punk, ska, reggae, and whatever else strikes my fancy (a quality which just yesterday, as we were playing the second-wave ska of The Specials in the truck, Zach said makes me a "cool dad"). And, when I can muster up the energy, considering it now involves at least a six-hour round trip from Redding to do so, I'll still stay out all hours of the night to catch my favorite musicians performing live. And when I'm feeling particularly bold or carefree, I can still be impulsive enough to take the occasional unplanned road trip.

But to say I'm the same person I was ten years ago? No way. The minute Zach was born, I became "Dad" (or at the time, "Daddy") first and all else second. Yet, if you'd have told me prior to 1997 that one day I'd be coaching kids’ sports teams, staying home full-time with my kid (or kids?!?!), or, without the slightest hint of self-consciousness, walking around town wearing a baby carrier, I'd have said you were nuts. Because even in the days leading up to my pending fatherhood, I rejected all the trappings of being a parent. And worse, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be one.

Those of you who've known Kelly and me for any length of time are aware that we married quiet young. Not Romeo and Juliet young, but young enough, given that, if our wedding had been seven months earlier, Kelly would not have been able to legally partake in our champagne toast. Only a year and a half her senior, I wasn't much older, and I was horribly immature. Blinded by love, I didn't have a clue what I wanted out of life other than to be with her.

So, as we worked through pre-marital counseling with Reverend Thomas Kerr, the minister who would later perform our wedding ceremony, I pondered his questions about Major Life Issues just as I did the subjects I was still studying in college at the time—on an intellectual, rather than emotional, level. And when the discussion turned to parenthood, I considered the topic the same way I did all the others we covered: in the abstract. I did so instinctively, because frankly, the thought of reproduction was absolutely alien to me at the time.

Do you want to have children?

Yeah, I guess so.

Are you sure?

Yeah, I guess so.

When?

Um, I dunno. When the time is right.

When might that be?

Um, I dunno.

Surely my responses should have sent up red flags that shouted, "THIS KID IS NOT READY TO GET MARRIED," and I fully expected that at some point, Rev. Kerr would in fact pull the plug and tell us that sorry, while we were fully capable of driving to Tahoe and finding some shady, gold-lamé-wearing minister who'd marry us, he was not going to be a part of this fiasco. But to my surprise, he never did. And because he didn't, it was only a few short months before I walked down the aisle, said "I do," kissed the bride, and wandered off into the sunset with that Major Life Issue unresolved.

Given that Kelly, even at 21, had a biological clock that ticked as loudly as those old wind-up models with the big bells on top, I wasn't going to be able to avoid the issue of parenting for long. Oh, sure, she loved me, but there was no escaping the fact that SHE WANTED A BABY. And so, once I'd finished school, and particularly once we'd relocated to Southern California to spread our wings, my uncertainty about parenthood and plunging forward with a partner who didn't share that uncertainty came back to haunt me, big time. Because the fact of the matter was, as far as I could tell, I didn't want kids. At least not then. And maybe not ever.

Uh-oh.

I'll spare you the gorier aspects of what this little disconnect meant for our relationship during the first eight or nine years other than to say that I will be forever grateful and indebted to Kelly for her patience. Even as I stumbled into her—which of course was really "our"—first pregnancy, I still wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be a father. And being young, intelligent, charming, attractive, and poised to begin a second career as an attorney, Kelly easily could have dumped me and, in a heartbeat, found a guy who knew what he wanted, didn't dodge his way through pre-marital counseling, and was ready to pursue parenthood with gusto rather than uncertainty.

But fortunately for me, she didn't. And just as fortunately, ten years ago tonight, I was struck by an epiphany the moment Zach was born: I wanted this little person in my life more than I ever could have dreamed or believed. And yes, I wanted to be a parent. But admitting those things, even to myself, and giving in to them meant I also had to be willing to grow up and take on responsibility. And those were frightening concepts—even scarier than the questions Rev. Kerr had posed to me years before.

The fact that Kelly had a complicated pregnancy involving frequent doctor visits and bed rest helped ground me a bit in the months leading up to Zach's birth. But even as late as the week before he arrived, I still wasn't approaching the topic with complete seriousness. As our Christmas due date came and went, the days dragged by. To pass the time, I goofed around on the Internet, listened to music, watched college football games, and basically did everything possible to avoid reality. And when Kelly said she’d be receiving pre-induction medication on New Year’s Day so she could deliver Zach the following morning, I just mentally shrugged and said, “OK.” I was numb from waiting and from holding back my fears about what was about to happen to us, and to me.

In retrospect, it’s probably best that the nurse administering Kelly’s drugs was heavy-handed, since in doing so she surprised us with a New Year’s Day baby. Losing the last element of control I’d had over my destiny by knowing when Zach would arrive shocked me back into reality and forced me to give in to the feelings I’d been holding at bay. And, it made me more emotionally available to Kelly, who obviously needed me on the team. No, I wouldn’t have time for lunch from our favorite Mexican restaurant on the way home from the hospital, and no, I wouldn’t be able to sit around and watch college bowl games. Because the baby was coming today, and that was that.

At roughly 9:00 that night, when the obstetrician hurriedly handed off Zach, who wasn’t breathing, to the Intensive Care team without asking me if I wanted to cut the umbilical cord, I learned just how badly I wanted to be his father. Much as I hate to admit that I’d had feelings of indifference toward him before that moment, those feelings were shattered instantly when I thought I might never get the chance to meet him. Watching his birth video a few months ago, I cried all over again when I saw myself (albeit a younger and less gray-haired version of myself) asking Kelly’s sister, Shannon, to turn off the video camera. If my son was going to come and go in that manner, I didn’t want it preserved for posterity.

Thank goodness it didn’t come to that. Fortunately, Zach, in true Hamilton fashion, was only being stubborn, and within minutes he was breathing normally. That he would later again prove stubborn and refuse to nurse—for days—is another story and one without consequence, as evidenced by the fact that, as he turns 10, my once-little boy is a whopping 4-foot-10-and-1/2-inch, 100-plus-pound monster. From the moment I held him, I knew that this was the greatest gift I was ever going to receive and that Kelly had been right all along. And, I learned right then and there the meaning of the term “unconditional love.” Yes, my wonderful daughters would follow—children I'd love just as dearly—but coming first, it was Zach who taught me this lesson.

So, thank you, Zach, for helping me grow so much and for nudging me onto the wonderful journey of parenthood. I’ve told you repeatedly over the years that if I was allowed to shop for a son, you’re the one I’d have picked, hands down. Today, more than ever, I feel that way. And as you enter the world of “double digits”—something of which you’ve reminded me frequently in the past week just as I’ve tried to avoid it—I couldn’t be prouder of you, not just for who you are now, but for the person I know you’ll one day become. I love you with every ounce of my heart and soul, and I consider myself the luckiest man alive to be your father. And I always will.

Happy 10th birthday, buddy.

Happy holidayz to you!

Scott — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 04:38:00 +0000

Seeing as I finally sent out our Christmas cards, er, two days, you'll probably see this before you see one of those. So, before we miss the big day entirely, here's a little holiday flavor from The Hamilton Zone...

It's been a fantastic and exciting year for us, and we feel beyond fortunate looking back at all that's transpired. Thank you to those who played a part in our lives this year and to those who will in the new year. We hope the season is a happy and rewarding time for all of you.

From our house to yours, we wish you the happiest of holidays (insert virtual toast here). Merry Christmas!

They always want what they can't (or shouldn't) have

Scott — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 15:52:00 +0000

As I mentioned last week, Zienna and Zane have quickly become cross-species baby buddies. Clearly fascinated by one another, Zane shows his feelings for Zienna through countless “kisses” which Zienna not only doesn't mind, she encourages. Even before she could crawl, Zienna would reach through her play yard fence, extending her hands for Zane to lick. And now that she can get around, Zienna goes looking for Zane, even approaching his crate and reaching through its bars at times when he’s inside, as if to ask, “Wanna come outside and play?” More kissing ensues.

That Zane is so gentle with Zienna is really surprising. After roughly three and a half months since entering The Hamilton Zone, Zane is still learning his manners. He heels pretty well when it’s just me and him, but he's one excitable puppy who’ll jump at anyone who comes close. Since claws with 30+ pounds behind them and nipping teeth follow, he can be intimidating, good-natured or not. Just ask Zach, who's down half a dozen shirts, victims of Zane's overzealous affection.

During the past week, with non-stop rains reducing the number and duration of our walks, Zane has been even more enegetic than usual, doing periodic windsprints around the great room, pausing every few laps to say "hi" to Zienna. And then, after hosting Kelly's firm's party on Saturday night, we chose not to put Zienna's play yard back up, since we were trusting Zane more and because Zienna gets frustrated by confinement now that she can crawl. Between Zane's physical nature and Zienna's curiosity and mobility, a grand experiment was in the making.

Three days and counting without the protective fence, and all is going well—on most fronts. There’s not so much as a scratch on Zienna. True to what I'd observed to this point, she and Zane really do appear to have a special bond. Yes, Zane still terrorizes Zach (who won't stand up to him) and in the past week has left the back of one of my hands a bloody mess on three separate occasions over the excitement of going for a walk. But when he’s around Zienna, Zane’s demeanor instantly softens, as he nuzzles and threatens her with nothing more than that ever-present tongue.

But that isn't to say that the Little Z Mutual Admiration Society hasn't gotten into its share of mischief. Because it has.

Mid-morning on the first day that Zienna really got proficient at crawling, I was working in the kitchen when I heard a sound emanating from the corner of the breakfast nook. Hmmm, Zane must have decided to finish his breakfast, I thought. Only Zane was locked in his crate since I was in the other room. And Belly wouldn’t dare. Which could mean only one thing. Oops. Fortunately, I reacted quickly enough to fish the kibble out of Zienna's mouth before she choked. So much for her pristine, vegetarian state. But in the end, a lesson was learned and there was no real harm done.

Then on Monday, with Zienna's play yard gone and her toys free and unencumbered, I was again caught off guard when I heard—while Zienna was napping in her room—her electronic Winnie the Pooh toy emitting the digitized sounds of buzzing bees. Lately, Zane's been pretty good about leaving Zienna's toys alone, even when they're sitting right next to his. But I guess the temptation was too great with the fence gone and the bright, plastic pile of loot left unattended for the taking. Shooing him off, I corralled the toys safely into a corner next to my desk so I could watch and protect them.

A few more “grass is greener” encounters ensued, but by yesterday, I'd gotten things more or less back to normal, with Zane's food dish relocated to the laundry room, the door closed, and the Under One crowd back on track as to whose possessions were whose. Or so I thought.

Shortly after lunchtime, seated at my desk and deep in thought over something I desperately needed to complete for Christmas, my parental radar sent an alert indicating that Zienna was no longer viewable by my peripheral vision. Peering over the sofa, I saw her by the fireplace, smiling innocently as she sat playing with a toy. No worries, I thought. But as I sat down, I realized that her toys were all still neatly piled up next to me, and since Zienna has yet to figure out how to crawl with a toy in hand, that meant that...oh, yuck. Yep, she was chewing on a bright, red rubber doggie bone. Yikes.

Bounding across the room, I snatched the bone from Zienna’s hands as I placed her back on “her” side of the room. Then I ran back and scooped up the rest of Zane's toys and, along with the offending bone, threw the lot of them into a pile near his crate. Thinking I’d made the boundaries clear, I returned to my desk, only to find Zane chewing on one of Zienna's favorite rattles. Scolding Zane and anxious to get back to work, I tossed the rattle in the sink, then chased him back to his corner of the room for one last chance before a fast ticket to Crateville, or a quick reconstruction of the play yard fence.

As I sat down, Zane came sauntering around the corner of the sofa with his favorite chew toy—a crazy, UFO-like gold number covered in soft, green nubs (all the more inviting to babies!)—in his mouth. He plopped down a few feet from Zienna, who was banging two of her own playthings together, oblivious to the havoc. This is how it should be, I thought. Peaceful coexistence. Except that within seconds, Zane had jumped up, leaving behind his slobber-soaked treasure, for which Zienna immediately darted. I narrowly beat her to it, but by then, Zane was back with a squirrel-emblazoned cloth Frisbee, which Zienna found equally appealing and for which Zienna quickly grabbed—and at that point, enough was enough. Into the crate went Zane.

Today, we’re experimenting again, because we need to clear this hurdle. Obviously Zienna can't live full time in a play yard, just as Zane can't live full time in a crate. And besides, I realize that as a team, the Poopy Pals mean no harm. The way I'm figuring it, Zienna and Zane aren't misbehaving, they're sharing. Sort of like the Pilgrims and Native Americans, they're dividing territory and exchanging gifts (and things they can put into their mouths). Either that, or they're both smarter than any of us would believe and scheming to drive me batty. And for the record—even if that’s not their intent—they're doing a pretty good job of it!

Cousin Cole doesn't want to read this

Scott — Mon, 11 Dec 2006 23:01:00 +0000

Since reading a few months ago in my brother Steve's blog that one of his three-year-old twins, my nephew Cole, has . . . oh, let's just say "issues" . . . with Bard, the hand-puppet dragon from the popular series of Baby Einstein videos, I've chuckled every time I've caught sight of the scaley, green guy--Bard, that is, not Cole, who I see far too infrequently since he and his family live in San Diego. And since Zienna is at an age where images of Baby Einstein characters appear on age-appropriate clothing, toys, CDs and yes, videos we let her watch from time to time, I see Bard pretty often. And every time, I can't help but laugh or at least smile over the thought of an otherwise tough little boy being frightened of something so cartoonish and non-threatening.

It's not that I get some sort of sadistic pleasure over a child's fears, particularly those of a child whom I care about. Nor am I trying to single Cole out for ridicule, as my kids have fears of their own, rational and otherwise, and plenty of them. But Steve's description of the depth of Cole's Bardophobia was so amusing, as he likened Cole's impression of Bard to that of a classic movie monster and recounted how Cole admonished Bard "at least 50 times" not to appear in a Baby Einstein video, it even made Zach laugh out loud and at length.

So, with this image of Bard and his effect on children in mind, I had to also laugh when last week we brought home for Zienna a Baby Einstein Discover and Play Activity Center, only to find that one of its main features was a full-sized Bard hand puppet. How, I wondered, would Zienna react? Would she break out in terror-filled sobs and bury her head in fear? Would this spoil a fairly pricey and developmentally-important toy for her? And most importantly of all, would its effects saddle her parents with years of bills for expensive psychotherapy? These thoughts filled my mind as I brought Zienna over to the newly-constructed center and placed her in its stand-up seat.

Knowing full well that the mighty Bard had slayed the psyche of Zienna's much older and rough-and-tumble cousin, I watched with anticipation as Zienna spun the seat around, surveyed the impressive lineup of activities, and very quickly spotted Bard. As she did, her eyebrows raised noticeably, as she seemed to recognize Bard from the videos. And then, she reacted. How, exactly? The same way she does with everything she gets ahold of these days, of course. Completely fearless, Zienna grabbed hold of Bard, put his head in her mouth, and chewed on it. When you're six months old, the world is your teething ring, and aside from overly loud noises and a late feeding, you have very few fears.

Seeing Zienna's reaction--or lack of one--I broke out in hysterics, picturing how Cole would react if he saw Zienna not just in the presence of the dreaded beast, but actually handling it and placing it in her mouth. Never mind that he wouldn't realize Zienna wasn't old enough to be cerebral. He'd just see the act for what it was and in all likelihood, run from the room screaming in dread. (Aunt Kelly notes that in fairness, it's possible Zienna was scared to death but selflessly trying to consume the beast, sensing it had wrought mental anguish on her cousin in the past.)

For all I know, Zienna will one day share Cole's fear of Bard or for some other Baby Einstein character for that matter. Heck, I find those inane videos, let alone the ridiculous characters that inhabit them, scary myself! But for now, Zienna's my little dragon slayer, bold enough to bully a beast that can strike fear into the heart of a boy multiple times her age.

Then again, maybe my little tomboy needs to back off and soften up a bit. Zienna's bold, boisterous manner scared the heck out of a male friend her age during a playdate yesterday--another story alltogether--so perhaps it's time for a lesson in decorum and grooming one's self as a frail damsel, worthy and accepting of chivalry. Or not. You go get 'em, girl...

Keeping up with the Hamiltonses (new photos included)

Scott — Tue, 05 Dec 2006 18:04:00 +0000

Whew! Where the heck did November go? For that matter, where the heck did this year go? Granted, 2006 has been life at breakneck speed around The Hamilton Zone, but I thought things would slow down a bit once we were settled into the house. No such luck, unfortunately. Between daily life, all the activities at the kids' school, and the extracurriculars with which we've been involved, there's hardly been time to sit down, let alone blog.

Meanwhile, there have been some exciting developments in the kids' lives--and by extension, mine and Kelly's. And since my list of notes titled "Blogs I Need to Write" is growing out of control, I figured it made sense to stop and just do a roundup of what's been going on instead.

Oh, but first, if you can believe it (Hold your breath!), November's photos are posted. You can view them directly here, or via the gallery page, located as always at www.thehamiltonzone.com/gallery. For the record, I thought I had my brother Steve beat for once in posting photos this month, but by the time mine I'd uploaded mine this morning, his were already in place. Oh, well. And so much for all those public-service reasons I gave last month for holding off on posting photos, eh?

So, how about a little ketchup to go with those photos? (Warning: Uncontrolled parental boasting ahead!)

Zach, who I've recently ignored horribly in blogland, has been one busy and productive dude already this school year. Coinciding with our move and the start of the fourth grade, Zach began his fourth year of soccer, not in AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization), but in Redding's more competitive CYSA (California Youth Soccer Association) league. As a member of The Strikers, Zach quickly established himself once again as a defensive force to be reckoned with, and by mid-season, he was also playing goalkeeper roughly half of each game. Initially, I worried Zach might not click with CYSA after playing in the touchy-feely, "everyone plays" environment of AY. But he declared this his favorite season of soccer ever--in part because Dad wasn't coaching him--and I had to admit that I found it more enjoyable, too, watching from the sidelines and cheering him on.

Entering fourth grade, Zach was a bit nervous when he found out that his teacher would be not just a man (Mr. Ward), but a man with a reputation for being rather strict. But Zach quickly learned that while Mr. Ward is quick to punish for infractions--such as writing old-fashioned lines over and over--he also has a quirky sense of humor and rewards achievement with karaoke and video game parties. And apparently, it's a good mix for Zach. When report cards and conferences came due last month, Kelly and I couldn't have been prouder of him. In addition to receiving excellent citizenship marks and exceeding most of his year-end fourth grade benchmarks already, Zach came one B+ shy of earning straight As--including A-pluses in spelling and social studies.

Based partly on his early performance this year, Zach was invited to join his school's Odyssey of the Mind program, an honor reserved for top students involving creative problem-solving that can lead to state- and national-level competition. And when Zach's not trying to tackle Problem 4: Out of the Box Balsa, he'll be practicing his saxophone, an instrument that he began playing shortly after the school year began. Zach likes his music class and the concept of playing more than practicing (What kid doesn't?), and he seems to be picking up both the instrument and reading music quickly. Time will tell if his interest lasts, but for now, one thing's for sure: Zach has a shiny, new sax as a combination Christmas/birthday present.

Meanwhile, Zoë has changed so much since entering kindergarten, it's hard for me to believe. In three short months, she's gone from a shy, little girl who was afraid to enter her classroom alone--or even with me or Kelly--to a confident, big girl who throws on her backpack and nonchalantly waves over her shoulder as I drop her off at the school's curb in the morning. And that confidence is translating where it counts, too. Whereas last summer, I'd get a lot of "I don't know how" responses to the exercises in a kindergarten-prep book we worked through together, Zoë has quickly mastered all of her upper- and lower-case letters, her numbers, and most importantly, reading.

The rate at which Zoë has grown as a reader absolutely boggles my mind. Since she was old enough to talk, she's been fascinated by books, frequently "reading" aloud to dolls, classmates, or family members. But now she can actually do it. And not just monosyllabic picture books, either. Already, she's being sent home--based on her demonstrated ability in class--books with multiple "chapters" and some really challenging words. It tickles me to death to hear her read and to see how proud it makes her feel. And when first-term conferences were held, it wasn't just reading in which Zoë was excelling, either. Like Zach, she'd mastered the bulk of her year's benchmarks already.

And it's fortunate that Zoë can breeze through her homework, because it leaves time for her other favorite thing besides reading: art. Zoë absolutely loves to draw, paint, and as puts it, "do crafts." Overnight, her nondescript scribbling has taken on real character, and so far, I think she'll definitely be the artist in the family. Which is more than we can say for her future in soccer. After floundering through part of another season, struggling with cleats, socks and shin guards all the way--like Mom, the girl hates footwear--Zoë jumped ship to a sport where bare feet are welcome: gymnastics. After a month and a half of classes at Galaxy Gymnastics Academy, she's already showing more determination than she ever did in soccer, and she seems to welcome the challenges. And even though a trip to watch her cousin Kristin participate in a weekend-long cheerleading competition had Zoë ready to switch disciplines again, Mom convinced her that gymnastics will help when she's ready to cheer. So, for the moment, she's caught up in cartwheels, trampolines and balance beams. By way of Mom, it's definitely in her blood, and I'm glad to see her so passionate about physical activity.

And speaking of physical activity, Zienna's suddenly needing a lot more of it. Not in terms of carrying her, but in keeping up with her! As I wrote a few days ago, Zienna decided to skip rolling over and army-man-style crawling altogether and progress right to four-limbed locomotion. And since then, she's really taken off--literally. Turn your back, and she's gone, off to explore another room (at which point the open floor plan of our house, with its lack of separate, doored rooms at its core, becomes a real liability!). Combined with her ability to pull herself up on to her feet, the world is suddenly much smaller for Zienna and much larger for me and Kelly.

When she's not conquering the world or pushing the childproofing card--or kissing Zane, with whom she's established a mutual-admiration society--Zienna is still keeping us on our toes. In mid-November, she started eating solids, and since then, there's been no looking back. Just last night, I was busy in the garage and overlooked that the dinner hour had arrived--a fact that was not lost on Zienna. By the time she was in her high chair and eagerly chowing down on rice cereal and squash, she was screaming bloody murder that Mom shovel the spoonfulls in faster.

When she's not breastfeeding, Zienna's learned to more or less hold her own bottles (although she tends to play with them and hasn't figured out what to do when she drops one). And, proving that her sweet, little mouth is good for more than just eating, Zienna this week added a kinda-sorta word to her non-stop cooing: "Ma-ma-ma-ma." Kelly's convinced it's meant to be what it sounds like, and I'm content to let her believe that, even if I'm sure Zienna's first real word will be "Daddy." Or "Giants." Or at least "baseball."

Enough ketchup. I'm off to prepare the house for Kelly's office party, which will be wrapping up here for dessert on Saturday and hopefully will include a visit from a fat guy with a beard. And then we have guests on Sunday...a trip to San Francisco the following weekend to see Throwing Muses...the neighborhood cookie exchange...the school Christmas pageant...Christmas with Dale and Dede (Kelly's folks) and her sister, Shannon, and her family...more family portraits...Zach's birthday the following week...another trip south to see the Harlem Globetrotters...and then, who knows?

Geez, no wonder time flies. Good thing we're having fun!

Baby's got wheels

Scott — Fri, 01 Dec 2006 20:25:00 +0000

Shortly before noon PST today, life in The Hamilton Zone got a lot more complicated, as Zienna officially entered the Age of Crawling. As in, oops, I'd better not leave my shoes laying around on the floor any more. Or dog toys. Or plastic shopping bags I've brought in from the car. Because those are the things I found her chewing on shortly after she'd discovered her new-found talent. Oops.

Just a few days ago, it looked like Zienna might not crawl for a while yet. At her six-month check on Tuesday (Weight: 20 pounds, 9 ounces--97th percentile; Height: 27 inches--97th+ percentile), she was a mishmash of milestones. Any teeth yet? Nope, but drooling enough to convince Mom and Dad she's teething. Rolling over yet? Nope again, but starting to pull herself to and from a seated position. Crawling yet? Still nope, but pulling herself up into a full standing position and staying there for extended periods (even if it means occasionally banging her forhead as she did in the photo at left). Wait a minute--that's not supposed to happen until the nine-month checkup! Oh, well. Clearly, this girl is progressing on her own schedule, not anyone else's!

Our pediatrician, Dr. Braemer, wasn't concerned that Zienna wasn't rolling over, given the overall picture. Nor was he concerned about Zienna's weight--although, as he's pointed out in the past, she's obviously not starving. Which is probably why, when Kelly asked if we should be giving Zienna solids throughout the day instead of just for dinner, he told us to make the call ourselves. Indeed.

Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten up until now to mention that Zienna started solids, hadn't I? Yep, for almost three weeks now. See, I had video and pictures I was going to post, but when I went to, Blogger...oh, never mind. You don't want to hear it, and I don't want to say it. But suffice to say Z Baby is now using Stage 2 Diaper Genie refills and howling at dinnertime. All over a bit of flavorless rice cereal and near-flavorless pureed vegetables. Yummy.

Anyway, this morning, Zienna was in a particularly good mood, and I had her playing on the floor beside me as I did some things online. As she struggled to grasp a toy and looked to me for help, I decided to try an experiment. Lining up several of her favorite playthings, including the one she'd been reaching for, I placed them roughly four feet from her on the floor and then knelt behind them. At first, Zienna just looked at me, banged on the ground, and whined. Then she got down on her stomach. Then she floundered about a bit before starting to whine again, with no apparent signs of locomotion.

Just as I began to think I was asking for too much too soon, Zienna raised herself back up on all fours--way up--and began pumping those big legs of hers. And then she moved a hand. Then she looked at me, and as I cheered her on, she moved the other hand. And then she moved the first one again. And with a few rests mixed in, she continued, until she had reached the toys. Which I proceeded to move another few feet away. And she proceeded to crawl to again. At which point she deftly swooped into a sitting position, with no struggle involved, to claim her prizes. After such a performance, I had to let her claim her prize. At least for the moment.

Considering I'd not caught many of the other kids' "firsts," which tended to occur either at daycare or when I wasn't looking or around, I got pretty darned excited over this development. And then I made her do it a few more times, until her arms were showing signs of fatigue--which of course meant she couldn't repeat her feat when Mom came home for lunch. Oops again. But there'll be plenty of other opportunities, now that baby's got wheels.

Guess I've got a house to go childproof. Just in time for a Christmas tree--DOH!

Happy birthday to house...er, Zienna

Scott — Mon, 27 Nov 2006 16:25:00 +0000

As I began singing out loud a "birthday" wish to our house yesterday--because it marked three glorious months since we left the rental life behind--Kelly immediately jumped in as I finished and sang what I should have been singing, which was "Happy Birthday" to Zienna. Because yesterday, she turned six months old.

Six months. Yikes! As Zach and I were discussing last night, it's already getting a bit hard to remember what life was like before Zienna, given how involved we all are with her daily life (a BIG change from having a kid in full-time daycare, and a welcome one!). But still, six months is half a year, and I really find it hard to believe that much time has passed since Zienna's birth. Time may fly when you're having fun, but it really zips by when you're enjoying a new baby and super busy, as we have been since May.

Since it came as an afterthought that it was The Big 0.5 for Zienna, we really didn't do anything to mark the event. It was raining like crazy--and snowing in the foothills and mountains around us--but we ran a few errands anyway and, without even realizing it was a potential gift day, bought Zienna a "Taggie"--a blanket with numerous tags sewn to its border, intended to satisfy her compulsion to seek out the tag of any blanket, toy, or pillow she encounters. Other than that, it was a pretty routine day for our baby girl. A little attempted crawling, a bit of pulling herself up, and a yummy dinner of rice cereal and sweet potatoes (her current favorite, which is good, since they're what's currently up on the Wheel o' Food Introduction). Not much beyond that, aside from her first cold, courtesy of big sister, who brought it home from school.

Zienna's six-month checkup is later this week, so we'll have to see then how she's faring on the height/weight charts and development milestones. But as one who spends every day with her, I can already give you a preview (albeit one that's a bit biased): perfect.

Happy belated birthday, Zizi. You're already more a part of this family than you could ever understand!

I can't keep a secret

Scott — Mon, 20 Nov 2006 03:16:00 +0000

I never could, actually. And in this case, I definitely couldn't. Not after I saw what you're about to see.

Dede, aka Grandma Loop, aka Kelly's mom, requested one thing for her birthday, which was way back on Halloween: family portraits of the Hamilton nuclear unit. Not much to ask, you're likely thinking. But to say we're bad about family portraits is an understatement considering that, in really close to 20 years of marriage, Kelly and I have done portraits exactly three times--once at a PetSmart with our cats in the early 90s, once with Zach and Zoë in 1993, and...well, today. That's it.

It took us a couple weeks' worth of cancelled aappointments(too busy, cold feet, couldn't find anything to wear, etc.), but the planets finally aligned today and allowed us to muster the confidence to do the deed, the results of which are posted here.

Kelly and I went in figuring whatever happens, happens, particularly since our eldest daughter has a thing about being photographed, particularly by strangers. We'd left at least one portrait appointment in the past frustrated and photo-less. But fortunately, we got the same photographer who earlier did Zienna's first portraits, who was an absolute joy, and everything just fell into place, Zoe's apprehensions (or lack of them) included. And when we saw the results...well, we were just so pleased, we couldn't hold back from sharing. Not counting the pictures with the tired, old guy. But then, with kids as cute as this--personal biases aside, of course--who's counting?

We'd intended to use the photos for Christmas cards, and we still do. So when you get yours, do us a favor and just pretend you've never seen the included picture before, OK? And whatever you do, savor it, and thank Grandma Loop. Because at the rate we're going, it could be a looooooong time before you see an updated Hamilton family portrait!

Ooh, scary: Halloween photos are only two weeks late!

Scott — Wed, 15 Nov 2006 00:06:00 +0000

I'm through making excuses for my apparent photo-posting tardiness. In Jeff Goldblum, Big Chill fashion, I'm ready for a straight out rationalization or three. And you know what Mr. Goldblum's character, Michael, said about rationalizations, right? (If not, look it up!)

Anyway, from now on, don't think of my galleries as "late," think of them as...

...a public service. I recognize that we're all pretty busy around the first of the month, and I'm just trying to avoid adding one more thing to our collectively cluttered calendar.

...courteous. After all, my brother Steve is pretty darn consistent at posting his galleries during the first few days of the month. Why overwhelm everyone with too many photos and wrestle for attention? I politely let Steve have his glory first.

...a labor of love. Crafty captions like those found in the Hamilton Zone gallery don't just grow on trees. Nope. They take time and effort. And I usually remove red-eye, too! Just more value-added services for you, dear reader.

See? No tardiness here. Just delay by design. (Yeah, that's the ticket!) So without further bull...er, ado...I present to you October's gallery--Halloween included--viewable directly here, or as always, via the main gallery page here.

Oh, and by the way, my little experiment last month--removing the links to high-resolution, zipped files--proved what I thought it would, that no one was downloading the zips. At least no one did last month. Consequently, I've removed them, because their posting more than doubled the amount of time I was spending putting up the galleries each month.

Note to grandparents and others: If you want high-resolution files for printing, let me know. I can easily enough email you the files you're interested in. And if there's sufficient demand, I'll add the zips back in.

Oh, and if by some chance I happen to post November's photos early next month, don't think of it as hypocrisy, just think of it as an editorial decision intended to head off your last-minute demands on your hectic holiday schedule. Yeah, that's it...

September photos: I see a pattern here

Scott — Sun, 29 Oct 2006 23:54:00 +0000

You know the song and dance by now--busybusybusy, Blogger issues, photos are late, surprisesurprisesurprise--so I won't belabor the point. The part you care about is that September's photos are, at long last, posted. About time, hmmm?

September was a pretty exciting month around the Hamilton Zone, and we managed to take quite a few photos to document it. There's Zane settling into the house and getting to know the kids, Zach and Zoë starting soccer in their new (Redding, CYSA) league, the family settling into the house, Zienna growing by leaps and bounds, and Mommy and the girls visiting Grandma and Grandpa Loop's. Lots of good stuff.

(Imagine that there are adorable sample images here to entice you to visit the gallery. You'll have to use your imagination, because Blogger issues persisting since Saturday have prevented me from posting any samples. Grrr!!!)

You can view September's gallery directly here or via the gallery page, located here. Oh, and please note one big change: Zipped, high-resolution files now have their own page, located at www.thehamiltonzone.com/gallery/zips. Just note the page number and the month of the gallery you're interested in, head to the zips page, scroll to your file, and use right click/"Save As" to download it. For your convenience, I've provided a link to the download page on each gallery page.

I realize having to access a separate page for zips is a bit more cumbersome than the direct page links I used to provide, but it cut down considerably on my upload time, which should help me post upcoming galleries in a more timely fashion. And we all know that would be a welcome improvement, eh?

Enjoy!

Happy birthday (and everyday) to me

Scott — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 01:22:00 +0000

Today is my forty-third birthday. It’s just a number, really, especially since I consciously stopped paying attention to birthdays once I turned forty, to the point that I now have to think before responding when someone asks me how old I am. And it’s just a day, really, aside from the fact that the kids make a semi-big deal out of it, and Kelly with and for them, as kids are wont to do. And though Kelly and I long ago stopped exchanging birthday gifts, figuring we got whatever we wanted throughout the year and didn’t feel the need to prove we cared about one another by exchanging gifts, we began buying them again when the kids became old enough to be taught the joy of giving. So, this time of year inevitably brings up the question: What do you want for your birthday?

When Kelly posed it to me last week, she really caught me off guard. What do I want? I don’t know. Quite honestly, nothing. How could I? In a year when we happily settled into a wonderful new town, welcomed Zienna warmly into the family, moved into our dream house, and complemented an already-satisfying package with a long-awaited canine companion, what more could I want? I know this sounds clichéd and corny, but I sincerely mean it. As I sit here today considering my lot in life, I recognize how fortunate I really am. I feel foolish for so often getting caught up day-to-day on what should be minor annoyances. And when all is said and done, I feel like the richest man in the world. Because I am.

Consider my treasures…

Zach is exactly the child I’d have chosen if given the opportunity to do so, as I so often tell him. Not just the idealized first child and the son I’d so desperately hoped for, he is a true friend, someone I'd want to hang out with even if he wasn't my kid, even at his young age. Time spent just paling around with him is some of the most satisfying in my life. Constantly, he finds some way to make me feel proud of him, whether it’s stepping in to help with his baby sister without being asked to do so, rubbing my shoulders when I’m tired or stressed and telling me how much he appreciates what I do for him, or finding some new way to excel at school or extracurricular endeavors. I sometimes feel he is better than I deserve. And before my eyes, he grows closer each day to the person I always dreamed he’d be back when I didn’t know what to expect from a child. I really couldn’t ask for more of him, which is why, after his birth, I was never sure if Kelly and I should rock the boat and have more kids.

Zoë, however, proved those doubts were unfounded. My little firebrand, she definitely keeps me on my toes—and beyond—but makes up for it in ways Zach cannot, in large part due to her gender. Beautiful inside and out, her huge heart typically wins out over the little devil that shares her soul, as it did last weekend when, upon learning it was a new friend on the block’s birthday, Zoë raced inside to retrieve one of her newest drawings—one she’d spent a great deal of time on—as a gift for her. That my brooding middle child is so often my own little emotional mirror is as enlightening as it can be maddening, particularly since she was the experiment that broke me into at-home parenting. I am convinced that if she’d been the only child, or even the oldest one, her personality would be much different. Because when it’s just me and her, she is sweet, obedient, precious and loving—just like she can be any other day, but without the rough edges. And she’s sharp as a tack to boot.

Zienna, coming when she did, has been a complete surprise, although I’ve not yet figured out whether it’s her, or me, that’s been responsible. Kelly and I decided to conceive Zienna more or less on a lark—albeit a lark that would take much longer to act upon than we’d hoped. Given my frequent struggles the first couple of years parenting Zoë full time, I was rather nervous about once again being home with a baby. Without a boob to satisfy it or words with which to reason with it, a baby frightens me. And yet, the past five months (to the day, as it’s Zienna’s five-month birthday today, too) have been, for the most part, ridiculously easy. Yes, there have been some days when she’s cried uncontrollably and Kelly has walked in the door to find me with keys in my hand, anxious to escape. But those days have been the exceptions. Zienna is happy at all times unless she’s happy or hungry, and cute as a bug. Her constant smile and huge, deep eyes warm my heart and confirm that yes, she was a good idea.

Which brings me to my wonderful wife. I could go on and on about how fortunate I am to have Kelly in my life, but if you’re reading this, you probably know us, in which case I’d just be preaching to the choir. The odds that we could meet so young, fall so deeply in love, and grow up together while simultaneously giving each other space to develop as individuals and maintaining our relationship were ridiculously long. And yet, as we log twenty-four years together and approach our twentieth wedding anniversary, I love her more now than ever, because I know for a fact that this is not just the person I wanted to be with, but the person I want to be with, forever. Where else could I find someone so beautiful, so intelligent, so loving and charismatic, with interests and qualities so complementary to my own? The answer is nowhere. I won the lottery. I married the cute girl next door I long ago fell in love with at first sight. Lucky me.

With such wonderful people enriching my daily life—along with friends and extended family members, each of whom has become increasingly important in my life with each passing year—I’d be hard-pressed to ask for more. And yet, since moving to Redding and escaping the drudgery of metropolitan life, then finally getting a house—a marvelous house—in which to raise my family, I’ve felt like the final pieces of the puzzle that is our family’s life have been set in place. What’s left is to step back and enjoy the resulting beauty, and to nurture and care for it, to ensure that it lasts. Little things like being fortunate enough to stay home with the kids and finding a buddy in a dog that I didn’t think I wanted are just icing on the cake. And on a day like today, they’re just more things for me to stop and be thankful for. Because if I don’t appreciate them—like this wonderful bunch of people I call my family—then it’s all wasted. Roses only smell sweet if you stop to inhale their fragrance.

So, before I get too sappy (Too late!), and getting back to Kelly’s question, I think it’s pretty obvious why I didn’t know how to respond to her. Oh, sure, I sent her some things off my Amazon wish list, just so the kids could say they got me something I “wanted.” But the fact is, I felt pretty foolish doing so, because I really don’t want for much these days. After years of rampant consumerism and always wanting this, that and the other thing—and suffering the consequences of chasing too much that I didn’t really want or need—I’ve discovered at forty-three that—duh—buying stuff doesn’t buy you happiness. It took me quite a while to figure it out, but at least I finally did. And you can be darn sure I, along with Kelly, am trying to teach that lesson to the kids.

Yeah, I’ll still smile when I open whatever it is the kids end up giving me and make sure they know I appreciate it. Then I’ll hug them like there’s no tomorrow, and Kelly along with them. And in doing so, I’ll be claiming my real gift—the one I really want, every year.

Hey, where'd those nine and a half years go?

Scott — Tue, 10 Oct 2006 23:04:00 +0000

When it rains, it pours, and for the third straight week, we've got portraits of the kiddos to share. Or lament just a bit, if, like me, you're even the teensiest bit bummed over how quickly they're growing up--particularly my nine-and-a-half-year-old, four-foot-ten, one-hundred-plus pound son. Yikes.

Join me on a quick retrospective, won't you? And don't worry, the big fourth-grader portrait is there if you keep scrolling.

As you can see, Zach's appearance hasn't changed a whole lot in the last four years--aside from his continued efforts to exceed my height before middle school, which isn't readily apparent in the photos. And, as I said about Zoë last week, when I look at Zach, unless I'm paying attention, I don't really see that big fourth grader in the last photo. I see that little guy sitting on my lap in the first one. And I imagine I always will--as it should be.

All I know for sure is, big or small, how much I love my buddy, what a great kid he is, and how lucky I am to be his dad. Every single day.

Predictably late, but (hopefully) worth the wait

Scott — Fri, 06 Oct 2006 17:13:00 +0000

Oh, sure, leave it to my super-organized brother Steve to post September photos of his kids before the first week of October is even over. C'mon, anyone can do that. Besides, I always was the rebellious one in the family, and it takes some originality--and a bit (OK, lately, a lot) of disorganization--to post your kids' photos a month late, rather than right on time. Keeps people guessing and all that.

Um, yeah. No, I don't buy it, either. Nor the excuses about how busy I've been lately (Ahem!).

Without further ado (or BS), please accept my apologies for the late post as I present the Hamilton Zone September, er, August gallery, viewable in the main gallery or directly here.

If we're lucky, I just might get September posted before the end of the month. But we'll have to wait and see about that, now won't we?

Meanwhile, does anyone have a few spare minutes I can borrow? I'll give 'em back when things settle down, honest...

Hey! Where'd those five years go?

Scott — Wed, 04 Oct 2006 17:31:00 +0000

If ever I needed a reminder about the importance of spending quality time with each of the Z Kids every single day and to appreciate them along the way, I stumbled upon one today. I didn’t see it coming, and it caught me completely off guard. But man, was it a doozie.

This morning, while doing drop-off detail, Kelly picked up Zoë's first "real" school portraits, taken just days after she started kindergarten. Excited not only because they came out so well but also because she took them, period--this is the girl who, for the second year in a row, was too scared to take soccer pictures and stares at the ground any time we try to take a family portrait--Kelly scanned one of the pictures immediately upon her arrival at work so she could share it.

Once I'd received Kelly's email, I was really thrown for a loop when I opened the attachment. Being home with Zienna full time, and given the similarities between Daddy's two girls, I frequently find myself calling Zienna by Zoë's name. And almost as frequently, I have little flashbacks--surreal to the point of being déjà vu-like--where I see Zienna doing something and I nearly forget for a moment that it's not Zoë. I find these occurrences both eerie and amusing, even if it upsets Zoë when I mix up her and Zienna’s names. After all, I’ve been home with Zoë since shortly after her first birthday, and when I look at her, I still see my baby girl, not the big five-year-old kid she’s become.

But seeing Zoë's portrait, I was broadsided. Poring into the monitor for what must have been two or three minutes, with Zienna babbling at my feet, a ridiculously wide grin made its way across my face, even as a lump grew in my throat and I unsuccessfully fought back tears. Where had my baby gone? This gorgeous creature gazing back at me was a sight to behold, but she was also an inescapable reminder of the fleeting nature of time. (And don't think I'm not tearing up again, because I am.) All at once, I wanted to drive over to the school, pull her out of class and hug her as hard as I could while telling her over and over again how much I love her, and how I want to be the father she deserves, even on days when I'm not. And how I'll always love her, no matter what--even on the challenging days (and there are plenty with Zoë, believe me).

But of course I couldn't do that, at least not at the moment. So I picked up Zienna in her absence, held her in as tight a death grip as she’d allow me, and told her in words I knew she couldn’t understand all the things I wanted to tell Zoë. I also made a vow, to her and to myself, to tell her siblings later in the day what I was feeling in terms they could understand, and to vow my unconditional love to them, now and forever, explaining why they are so important to me. Zach and Zoë are both amazing kids in their own unique ways, and while I may tell them I love them daily, I don't always show it in my actions. And that's not good enough.

It's raining today--a slight drizzle, and the first time in months--so yes, I'm feeling a bit introspective, and even melancholy. But after a hot, hectic summer, it's a good, calming feeling. And if it's got me in a frame of mind to stop and smell the roses--the most important roses in my life--then all the better. Because even if I can't stop them from growing, I have an obligation to feed, water and nurture them, and an opportunity--an amazing opportunity that I too often take for granted--to take in their sweet fragrance every day. And if something as simple as seeing my daughter's smiling face can serve to remind me of that...well, that's the sort of wake-up call this dad could not only use, but would welcome, any time.

Postscript: After picking the kids up from school, I kept my promise and expressed the feelings I’d had earlier in the day to both kids in terms I hoped they could understand. I must have gotten my point across, because shortly after we arrived home, Zoë, completely out of the blue, asked if she and I could have “Daddy time” by snuggling on the couch. She didn't even mind that I was watching the baseball playoffs, content just to be with me. Feeling all warm and fuzzy, I quickly put Zienna down for a nap and curled up with my big girl, who promptly fell asleep in my arms. What a feeling that was, and it served as another reminder of the important things I need to tend to more often, busy or not!

She isn't just cute, she's big, too!

Scott — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 19:55:00 +0000

It's been one busy week for Zienna, what with her first portraits on Sunday and then yesterday, her four-month physical. She braved three shots without so much as a peep, even "helping" her new pediatrician, Dr. Braemer, push the plunger on the syringe (accidentally, of course). This was quite a change from our experience with the first two Zs and their shots, believe me! Sounds of their hysterical, shot-induced cries still haunt me from time to time.

Dr. B said everything about Zienna looks great and that she is progressing wonderfully. And no surprise, she is following in her siblings' footsteps, hovering near the pinnacles of the CDC growth charts in height and weight (26-1/2 inches and 17 lbs., 9 oz., respectively--both well above the 95th percentiles). No wonder my arms are tired all the time. Daddy's girl isn't just cute, she's big, too!

Meanwhile, Zienna's big week isn't over yet, as she'll venture a few hours south of here with Kelly and Zoë to attend a camping 40th birthday party for Uncle Greg (Kelly's sister Shannon's husband) while Zach, Zane and I have a "boy weekend" of quiet unpacking at home. To celebrate, I've posted the complete set of pictures from Zienna's portrait sitting for your viewing pleasure, available directly here, or as part of the Hamiltonzone photo gallery here.

Enjoy!

The truth is out there: Zienna is NOT a space alien!

Scott — Sun, 24 Sep 2006 19:40:00 +0000

As my sister, Cindy, was so kind to point out in response to one of my more recent blog entries, Zienna is, in the flesh, not the space-alien baby you'd think she was after looking at the sad excuses for pictures Kelly and (mostly) I have shot and posted of her. Still, if you've not seen her in person, especially lately (because she has cuted up quite a bit--honest!), you were probably skeptical. Fortunately, I've got real proof in hand, ready for your inspection.

A bit later than we'd hoped or planned, given that Zienna turned 17 weeks old on Friday, we finally got around to doing her first portraits today. Never mind that the mall where they were done lost all power just moments after the sitting was completed, leaving us with a disk of proofs, no way to order prints or pay, and the only customers to get their sitting before the mall was vacated for the day. Who cares? The pictures came out much better than we'd expected, as you can see from the samples below, any of which you can click on to see the full-sized image.

Not that I'm unbiased or anything, but it just goes to show that with good lighting, a decent camera, and a bit of photographic skill--all things Dad and Mom could use more of--our little girl is pretty darned cute and far from alien, even if the Gene Simmons tongue is in full effect, as always.

Yep, when I wait nearly a month to post an entry, I make sure it's a really good one...

And Zane makes six...

Scott — Tue, 29 Aug 2006 19:57:00 +0000

No, the timing wasn't great. And no, we're not trying to set a new one-year record for points on that scale that tallies them for stress-inducing events. But when a boy falls in love, sometimes you have to throw rationality out the window and follow his heart.

On Saturday afternoon, as I was doing the final cleanup at the apartment, Kelly ran with the kids to Petco to pick up a new litter box for Belly. While there, they stopped to look at the pets being offered for adoption through the local Humane Society shelter. As you may recall, we'd promised Zach a dog once we got a house not only because he'd always wanted one, but also to ease his disappointment over not getting the little brother he'd been wishing for. Between Zienna's birth, buying the house, and moving, I'd figured we might make good on our promise toward the end of this year at the earliest. But when Zach spotted a litter of Black Lab/Australian Shepherd pups at Petco, he was smitten.

Kelly was, too. And so, knowing the pups would be headed back to the shelter soon, she quickly herded the kids into the car and zipped up the street to the apartment, where she thought I'd be. Problem was, I'd left a short while earlier with a truckload of stuff to take to the house. Finding the apartment empty, Kelly flew across town, where she managed to catch me just as I was preparing to leave again. She hurriedly explained what was going on, and once I saw Zach's face, I skipped the rational part of the conversation ("No way! We haven't even unpacked yet, and we have a new baby, new carpets, no landscaping, etc.!") and, caught up in the excitement of the moment, told them to head over to the shelter as fast as they could.

When we first arrived, it appeared the entire litter of nine might have already been adopted. But unwilling to give up, we finally found seven adopted, two had not--including the one that had melted Zach's heart. Seeing other families heading for the cage and already having overheard another in the lobby adopting a pup from the litter, we literally ran to the front desk to check if the apple of Zach's eye was still available. And he was.

What else could I do at that point but say OK? Which is exactly what I did, based purely on heart, without a hint of intellect. Fact was, I'd gotten all warm and fuzzy when I'd seen him, too, as he'd squirted from between his siblings to greet us and immediately began dispensing affectionate licks. And I'd never considered myself a "dog person."

And so, a pile of paperwork, a background check, and a credit card transaction later, we were told Zane would be available for pickup in two days' time after being fixed. This wasn't exactly what Zach wanted to hear, but he did pretty well heading home without his new-found love, even if the only thing he'd be able to do for the next 48 hours was to repeatedly and enthusiastically express his feelings for his new buddy ("I know I just met him, but I already love him.")

By yesterday afternoon, Zach could no longer contain himself. He positively agonized over the length of the half-hour drive, and upon our arrival at the shelter, he sprinted across the parking lot and through the doors without bothering to wait for us. He nearly jumped over the counter upon seeing Zane, and scooped him into his arms with such a hug that the clerk had to remind Zach he'd just had surgery. And then, an hour later, Zach sunk into a deep funk when we insisted he not skip soccer practice--although we tried to soften the blow by allowing him to accompany me to Petco afterwards so he could help pick out Zane's crate and sleeping pad.

There were a few, um, soiled moments on the brand new great room carpet during the evening and overnight, but by this morning, not only Zach but the whole family was attached to our newest Z. Which only seems fitting. Because when you get right down to it, any new addition to this family worthy of a name starting with the letter "Z" is bound to be a fixture from day one!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Scott — Thu, 24 Aug 2006 14:23:00 +0000

As if moving into our first home wasn't momentous enough, the older two Z kids managed to pack some other "firsts" into this week as well. Tuesday was Zoë's first day of soccer without the comfort of Mom coaching (She had no problems, as you'll see!). And Wednesday was Zach's first day of fourth grade and Zoë's first day of kindergarten. With Zach already practicing with his new soccer team, it's definitely made for a busy week!

As we headed off to school yesterday, there were more than a few digestive butterflies shared among us--by the kids because of the changes, and by me and Kelly because...well, there's no way in the world we could believe our baby boy and girl were starting fourth grade and kindergarten, respectively. But it was true.

Pictures of the week's events have been posted in a special gallery here. We've begun moving, so I didn't take the time to add links to the gallery page, but I'll try to get around to it ASAP. Meanwhile, enjoy the photos of our, um, babies.

Flutter, flutter. Sniff, sniff.

Ask (for baby pictures), and ye shall receive—at least when Dad has time!

Scott — Tue, 22 Aug 2006 18:51:00 +0000

Last week, a little bird told me that Aunt Mary (wife of my brother Steve, who maintains his own blog, Hamiltonium, was going through withdrawals since I'd decided to stop posting periodic updates in Zienna's gallery. Before getting that tip, I'd figured heck, once she'd reached the ripe, old age of two months, Zienna was old news, and her photos could wait to be posted monthly along with Zach's and Zoë's. Guess I was wrong.

Never mind that Mary and Steve have their own brood of cuties in the form of on-the-verge-of-turning-three twins, Aidan and Cole, and a still-in-diapers rugrat, "Mr. Grant." Who am I to disappoint the adoring family masses? Besides, I doubt that the grandparents and other aunts and uncles will argue with Mary about checking in on Zienna mid-month, eh?

So, by popular demand—in the calm before the storm that awaits me, Kelly, and the Z Kids later this week, comprised of moving, school starting, and soccer hitting full stride—I have posted a new addition to Zienna's gallery. Even if, in a week of packing and flying down to LA for a concert, it took me forever to complete the thing. Sorry, Mary.

Zienna's begun to smile endlessly, flirt, raise her head while on her tummy, and basically charm all who encounter her. See for yourself here. And once you have, just don't hold it against me if unpacking and shuttling kids back and forth all over town delays the next updates, too, OK? I'll do my best!

It's official: (It's our) home, sweet home!

Scott — Fri, 18 Aug 2006 04:31:00 +0000

What a day it’s been. After signing title paperwork on Monday and assuming we'd hear something about the mortgage by today at the latest, we finally did this morning—but it wasn't what we'd hoped to hear. Unfortunately, one of the documents showed an incorrect interest rate, meaning we’d have to resign and resubmit it. Plus, the appraiser had either forgotten or not been reminded to go out and take final photos of the house, which he had to do before we could close. Learning all of this just before noon, we figured we'd have at least one more day to wait—another agonizing day. And with tomorrow being Friday, we were afraid that the loan probably wouldn't fund until next week...and Monday was the last day of our rate lock. Missing it meant paying points. So the day began with the clock ticking, and very loudly.

Upon receiving this news, my brilliantly intelligent wife took the bull by the horns and rushed the corrected version of the offending document home for me to sign, then rushed it over to our loan officer just before noon so she could fax it to the mortgage company before lunchtime. Returning home, the pressure got the best of Kelly, but by then, I was over my frustration and figuring heck, if nothing else, a few days' delay would save us some money. In a fashion typical of this entire process, one of us was the yin to the other's yang. We'd just traded places once again. This time, it was my turn to be the optimist.

Once Kelly finished feeding Zienna and headed back, we hunkered down to wait once again. So we waited. And waited. And waited. I had asked Kelly to call our realtor, John, to ask that he let us know immediately if he heard anything. When I found out she had misunderstood me and not called, I decided not to call either. Better just to be patient, I figured. But there was no denying that I was feeling restless, so I packed up the kids to get out of the house.

Almost automatically, I drove up to the house for the umpteen millionth time under the guise of checking whether the fence was finished. I got there and found that it was, and I was about to take pictures for Kelly when I spotted our project manager emerging from the house next door doing a final walkthrough with our hopefully-soon-to-be neighbors. Feeling self-conscious for sitting in front of the house yet again, I drove off, pictureless. I felt silly and petty, and I decided to go do something productive to keep my mind off things.

As I headed off to do so, my phone rang. It was Kelly. I answered, not knowing what to expect. When I did, she cut right to the chase: Running the document over had worked, and the loan had funded. Great, I said, but what did that mean in terms of what came next? She said she wasn’t sure. So in spite of this good news, we were still back to square one (or at very best, two), wondering when everything would be processed. Double ugh.

As the kids and I took care of some things that actually needed my attention, I began to feel a bit better. Being productive was helping. And it must have brought good karma, too, because just as we were headed home, my phone rang. It was Kelly again. Hearing the animation in her voice, I started jumping to conclusions, and they were correct: The deal was done. Signed, sealed and delivered. Head to the house, she told me, because she was meeting John there to get the keys. I couldn’t believe it, even as I rushed to meet her. The wait was finally over.

Ever since Zach could talk, we’d been telling him that we wanted to buy a house. Every time an overly-extravagant purchase request came up, we told him (and later Zoë) that it would have to wait, because we wanted to buy a house. And every time the kids complained about some aspect of rental life, we told them it would all get better if we could just buy a house. Finally, after years of waiting, we were delivering on our promise. And frankly, we were doing so in pretty grand fashion. We were buying that house. And we were buying one that we’d all be happy in for years to come, our own piece of clay to mold any way we wished to.

I did my best to express these sentiments to Zach on the way to the house, and I think he understood the gist of it. Later, I’d try to do the same to Zoë, who for the moment was still back at preschool. And as for Zienna, even if she could have understood, there was no need to explain to her, as this would be, mercifully, only her second home, a far cry from Zach’s tenth.

Seeing Kelly and John in front of the house as we approached, I could hardly contain myself. I still couldn’t believe what was happening, but I did my best to do so. Once inside the house, I walked through it in a fog, inspecting it as if it were my first time being there, which was particularly odd since I’d just gone over the place with a fine-toothed comb on Friday during our walkthrough. But this time, it was different. It was ours. Not a place that the bank might let us live in, but ours. And knowing that felt so good, I couldn’t believe it.

Knowing we had to pick up Zoë, we had to rush a bit, but after all, I could only open and close doors and run my hands over the tile so many times. We thanked John, of whom we’ve become very fond, and parted ways, then quickly headed home so we could pick up Zoë and head out for a celebratory dinner. Without much discussion, we agreed on Chevy’s for the event, where we dined in high spirits, still not entirely conscious of the day’s events. And then we headed back to the house with Zoë, the entire home-owning family, to take a tour and soak up the feeling one more time while it was still fresh. And what a fine feeling it was.

Heading back to the dreaded apartment, knowing we’d not be moving for another week, was bittersweet. But at least this time, we knew the end was in sight. The prize was ours. The Chinese water torture would end soon. And that house, the one we’d been dreaming about for months, was ours. Suddenly, the apartment and the awful neighborhood became more bearable. All of it, from the cramped quarters to the smashed booze bottles on the sidewalk. And we all breathed a sigh of relief—even the kids, who asked to turn in early.

It was a grand night for the Hamilton clan. The first of many, I suspect. Our shared goal attained, each of us realized in our own capacity that the risks and challenges of the past eight months had paid off and that from here on out, the rose-colored glass we’d been hoping for was about to take over our world.

Just call it our "home" page

Scott — Fri, 18 Aug 2006 23:17:00 +0000

This afternoon, just one day after we got the keys to the house, Kelly got a call from one of the owners of the company that built it asking if they could borrow a key back and photograph the interior. Apparently, the project manager and others had raved about it as it came together, and this isn't the first time they've used it to show, to paraphrase her words, the potential of the house's design.

Kelly and I find this highly amusing, as we have zero design experience or confidence, and we bumbled our way through the process, mocking ourselves at each stop, convinced it would all look horrible when assembled.

But hey, if the builder thinks the house is worthy of being photographed, then who are we to not share the pictures we shot last night of the finished product? So, if you care to take a look, I've posted them in the gallery, also viewable by direct link here.

We hope you enjoy the pictures. Although, if by chance you come to the conclusion that the builder is having fun at our expense ("Oh my gosh, can you believe what a train wreck these people created?"), just be kind and let us live in our fantasy world. Please?

(By the way, remember that if you plan to view all of the pictures, the easiest way to do so is to click the first one to enlarge it, then use the right arrow key to scroll through the rest.)

Things that go barf in the night

Scott — Sun, 13 Aug 2006 19:39:00 +0000

Seventeen years ago, while living in Southern California, Kelly and I were jarred from sleep one night by a horrendous crash we were convinced was breaking glass. Creeping nervously through the dark, fearful of intruders, I was relieved to find that what we’d heard was a fluorescent light panel falling from our kitchen ceiling and shattering into a million pieces on the floor. Still, that was a pretty scary sound.

A few years later, still in Southern California, Kelly and I woke to the sound of our apartment creaking and squealing like a worn-out rocking chair as the Northridge earthquake ripped through the area. Even without the shaking, that was definitely a scary sound.

And then last year, while living in Foster City, I was just nodding off to sleep one night when our carbon monoxide detector pierced the darkness with its shrill cry. Because we'd had a series of what we believed were false alarms on another detector earlier in the week, hearing the new one go off was cause for concern. And it was another scary sound.

Yet, none of those sounds holds a prayer in the "scary" department to the one I heard last night. Exhausted and short on sleep after a very early morning departure by Kelly, and having been alone for the day while she’d met with her firm's other partners in Sacramento, I was enjoying some deep and overdue sleep when, at roughly 2:30, I heard Zoë, a foot or so from my face, whispering to me.

"Daddy, I just threw up all over my bed."

Now that was a scary sound.

You see, in our family, Zach is the "stomach" kid and Zoë is the "cold" one. Zach tends to come down with vomit-inducing bugs at least once or twice a year, and because he's been that way since a very young age, he's well versed in the "get to the bathroom and over the toilet" routine, even when struck during the night. Meanwhile, Zach seems immune to colds, and when he catches one, it passes quickly.

Zoë, on the other hand, brings home every cold that passes through town (or school or store or who knows where else), no doubt in part because she still sucks her thumb. Oddly, she’s rarely had stomach ailments, and vomiting is so foreign to her that when she became carsick a few months ago after a big breakfast followed by a mountain drive, it actually scared her when she threw up. In spite of being nearly five, she didn't understand what was happening.

So, needless to say, when Zoë woke up last night with a hankering to hurl, she had no idea what to do. And so she did...well, nothing. She just sat up and barfed all over herself and everything around her. And realizing this was probably the case, I leapt out of bed the instant I heard her, fearing the worst—but it was so much worse than that, as I was about to find out.

As Zoë and I approached her room in the dark, trying not to wake the rest of the family, I began to feel, well—there's no way of putting this delicately—dampness under my feet. And chunks. Accompanied by a horrible stench. And we weren't even to her bedroom yet. When we arrived there and turned on the light, it was not a pretty sight. In fact, it was downright scary, straight out of The Exorcist.

I'll skip most of the gory details and just say that Zoë had eaten quite a bit Saturday night, and every last bit of what she’d consumed was making its presence known. On her comforter, on her sheets, on her throw rug, on her toy box...on everything, basically. And it was about that time that I realized "it" was all over Zoë, too. And that she'd been dripping it as she'd walked around the house. And tracking it all over the carpet with her feet. Ick.

After getting Zoë into the bathroom to isolate the mess, I was relieved to see Kelly emerge from our room, because much as I wanted her to sleep, this was definitely a two-person job. So, while she took to cleaning up Zoë and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, I stripped the bed, wiped down everything else in her room, and spot-cleaned the carpet. Then I took the big Costco-sized carton of disinfecting wipes and, concerned for Zienna's health, attacked every surface with which I thought Zoë might have had contact, going over them twice to be sure. And then, as Kelly got Zoë dressed and ready to return to, um, sleeping bag (We are, after all, living out of boxes, and linens are in short supply!), I mopped the bathroom floor in a hurry so we could all get back to sleep.

Or so I thought. Because just as I finished mopping, Zoë called out to me, announcing she was about to throw up again. Poor kid, I thought, but no problem, really, because to head off any more messes, I'd placed at Zoë's side a ridiculously large plastic bowl. And it might well have helped, except that Zoë again proved she was a rookie at ralphing by sitting up, placing the bowl in her lap—with her ponytail dangling straight into it—and doing the deed. Of course the mess went into her hair, onto her nightgown, and onto the sleeping bag. Back to square one.

The rest of the early-morning hours passed slowly, as Zoë called out to me for assurance or to change a movie like clockwork each time I nodded off. And there was one other episode of vomiting shortly before dawn the nature of which was, believe it or not in light of what's been shared already, too graphic to tell here. But when Kelly and I finally gave up and crawled out of bed, it had been a very long night, and our bleary eyes were proof of that.

As for Zoë, after last getting sick around 6:30, it wasn't two hours later and she was asking for French toast. And shortly after that, she was dancing, singing, and asking to come out of her room. Now it's mid-day, and she's asking for lunch and to play a game. Go figure.

And me? I'm running on autopilot and looking forward to tonight so I can finally get some sleep. At least I hope I can. I’m still having flashbacks of the latest scary sound to wake me and reflecting on the saying, "People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one." Amen to that, brother.

Can't find anything to watch? Try ZTV!

Scott — Thu, 03 Aug 2006 17:43:00 +0000

If your house is like ours, you aren't finding much worth watching on TV right now. "America's Got Talent" is disappointing, and aside from the usual reruns and hopeless summer pilots and specials, what else is there? Don't despair. ZTV is here to help.

Following up on the redesign and expansion of the Hamiltonzone Photo Gallery, I'm trying in whatever spare time I can find to give the same treatment to the long-ignored video gallery. To kick it off, I've got a video shot yesterday of Zienna "talking" available for viewing here.

This first file is pretty large, because...well, I thought it was too cute to cut. Future additions will be smaller and/or of a larger variety of sizes to accommodate everyone's bandwidth, etc.

Shortly, I hope to being posting weekly installments of the "once-a-week" (or so) videos we've shot of each kid during their first couple years of life. As a family, we viewed the first hour or so of Zach's last weekend, and it was so much fun, it dawned on me that family and friends might want to view them, too. So it's our goal to share them.

One favor to ask, as noted on the video gallery page: Please DOWNLOAD any videos you wish to view. If you're a PC user, that means right click/save as/etc. Email me if you need help. Please refrain from simply clicking on the links, as doing so will in most cases cause the videos to stream in your browser, consuming bandwidth Kelly and I pay for. Downloading the files so you can view them repeatedly at your leisure offline saves us tons of bandwidth. Thanks for your cooperation.

Enjoy the videos, and as always, if you have any suggestions, complaints, or special requests, please let me know!

Straight out of Ripley's, July photos are up!

Scott — Wed, 02 Aug 2006 17:06:00 +0000

Perhaps it was the knowledge that if I didn't get July's photos up soon, they'd not be posted for some time, since we'll be moving shortly. But whatever the reason, they're already up and available for your viewing pleasure, believe it or not, either in the Hamiltonzone Gallery or directly here.

August promises to be an exciting month, with the start of the school year on the 22nd, a visit to Aunt Cindy and Uncle Phil's house at Lake Almanor, a weekend with Aunt Shannon and her family, and of course, our move. But July was no slouch itself, highlighted by a welcome visit from Terry, Rhonda and their girls, as well as a quick visit to Shasta by the girls, during which Zoë further shed her fear of water by riding on a personal watercraft with Uncle Greg (which in itself is worthy of Ripley's).

And of course, there are plenty of pictures of that other Z Kid--the youngest one, who until recently had her own gallery. Frequently with her brother or sister. Or just about anyone else who was in range of her and the camera. As you'll see.

Oddly and sadly, I failed to take so much as a single picture on Fourth of July, which we spent with the Leaches, Ken, Lili and Sherilyn. I suppose I was too relaxed and having too much fun, as I didn't realize my oversight until last night. Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about that now.

Enjoy!

Hey! Where'd those two months go?

Scott — Thu, 27 Jul 2006 19:18:00 +0000

Depending on how you're counting, Zienna turned two months old either last Friday or this past Wednesday. I opt for the first option, since it's four weeks from the day she was born and...well, four weeks is a month, basically. Kelly insists on using the latter method of calculation, since Zienna was born on the 26th day of the month. Since Moms tend to be more concerned about the minutiae surrounding births and weddings—heck, that's why the Lifetime cable network exists—we'll go with Wednesday.

Once we'd concluded that Zienna had indeed turned two months old—and agreed upon when—the realization that she'd reached that milestone already absolutely took me by surprise. Clichéd as it sounds, it really does seem like yesterday (or a few days ago at most) that we were at the hospital waiting for Zienna's arrival. Maybe it's the fact that I've been home every day since, and alone with her for going on three weeks—sort of like how you don't really notice how your children change, while others who see them only occasionally do—but the time's gone by really fast. Much faster than I remember with Zoë or even Zach, even though he was our firstborn.

Ultimately, this feeling that time has passed quickly is a good thing, because what it tells me is that I've experienced each day (or at least most of them) fully with Zienna and not given longer increments of time much thought—which, incidentally, has also helped while waiting for the house to be completed so we can move out of this dumpy apartment. And yet, I still really can't believe it it's been two months.

To mark the big event, Zienna got a little surprise on Thursday. If you're thinking birthday cake or maybe an Ovaltine-spiked baby bottle, guess again. Neither sugar nor gifts was involved. Nope. Instead, she got shots—four of them, to be exact—courtesy of her new pediatrician, who was at least civil enough to adorn her with some lovely Roadrunner-emblazoned bandages afterwards. Not quite the lollipop or stickers the older kids would have received, but then "treat" pickings are slim when you're two months old.

Everything went well at her checkup, and based on her new measurements, the Center for Disease Control's growth charts say she's not only getting taller but thinning out, too—although I'm not buying it. Yes, the increase in her height is noticeable, as the reach of both her arms and legs is quickly outgrowing the confines of her bassinet. But just as obvious is the change in her weight, both in the increased load when you carry her and also in her tummy and chin(s). Just look at that picture!

Since birth, Zienna's grown nearly four inches, going from from 20 inches (slightly below 75th percentile) to 23-3/4 inches (roughly 75th). Meanwhile, her weight has increased from 8 pounds, 10 ounces (90th percentile) to 12 pounds, 12 ounces (down to roughly 70th percentile). Mommy's obviously making some good milk, and plenty of it, even if Z Number Three may be the only one of our kids not destined to play basketball!

In the last couple of weeks, Zienna's acne cleared up, her eyes became much more expressive and curious, she's smiled constantly, and she's begun cooing, gurgling, and even, it seems, turn-taking, although that's not typical this early. This kid LOVES attention, and even upon waking up, all it takes is an attentive face brought close to hers to get her smiling, "talking" and so excited that she nearly bounces herself off the mattress. And her new thing, which I find absolutely adorable, is studying her hands—first one, then the other, and then the first one again—for seemingly endless periods of time. It's fascinating to watch, and right on schedule with what the "What to Expect" folks said to expect.

Sadly, I never really spent much quality time with Zach or Zoë at this stage—in part because of the hours I was working, but also out of my fear of infants—so I'm really loving this and finding myself amazed by it. In turn, I'm trying to share my joy with the older kids, and they appear to be enjoying it, too. They both adore Zienna, and they get jealous of one another if they feel they aren't getting enough holding, feeding, or play time with her. I'd worried that given their ages, they, and especially Zach, would want nothing to do with Zienna, or even resent her. Nothing could be further from the truth, which is wonderful.

I've yet to find so much as one other at-home dad in Redding (though I hear rumors they exist), and I'm going through several shirts a day because I've yet to master the "don't set the baby on your shoulder without a burp rag" routine. But other than that, things are going great from this outpost. I'm already looking forward to the special relationship Zienna and I will undoubtedly share. And while I regret that I let the other Z Kids' infancy slip by without more actively participating in it, I'm trying to use my newfound appreciation for parenting to make me a better dad not just for Zienna, but for all three kids. Perhaps for the first time since Kelly encouraged me to be a full-time parent, I'm recognizing truly what a privilege it is being able to do so, and an immensely rewarding one at that.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta run. Because proving that real life is stranger than fiction, Zienna just barfed all over my shoulder. One of these days I'll remember the burp rag. Maybe. Or maybe not. After all, there are much more important things with which to concern one's self, as I'm learning.