Back at base

We had a really good weekend. We drove back to Pittsburgh to Iain’s parents’ house on Friday night, with a trunkful of baby gear and the iTrip set to 88.3.

Owen did spectacularly. He slept nearly all the way there, with a break at the Sideling Hill rest stop for a bottle which was heated with hot water donated from the ubiquituous Starbucks. He awoke again when we arrived at the ol’ homestead at about 10:30 p.m., bestowing a sleepy grin on all my in-laws, and remained in a good mood for the duration of our stay. Everyone was amazed at how happy and even-tempered he is. I guess not all babies are like that?

He met his cousins, Caleb, Levi and Joshua, their parents, Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Katrina, and his aunt Erin, the bride, and his new uncle, Doug. I had the camera going pretty much the whole time.

It was a beautiful weekend for a backyard wedding, sunny and mild. The groom’s parents were totally Pittsburgh, all “yinz guys” this and “yinz guys” that. There were trays and trays of cookies at the kegger/reception, which I’m told is another Pittsburgh tradition. And there were pierogies, and probably Iron City on tap. I didn’t check, though; I had a baby strapped to my chest.

West Sunbury, where the new couple reside, is a tiny little hamlet north of the Burgh. To get there, you have to drive up Route 8 past Cranberry, Mars, and Butler, which was filled with what appeared to be jaded Goth-type teenagers itching to get the hell out. West Sunbury was one block long and a little long in the tooth, but very picturesque.

Visiting little towns like that leads me to idle daydreams of living the small-town life, where everyone goes to the Big High School Game on Friday nights and there’s only one gas station. Sure, it sounds nice, but having lived in a town very much like it I know that it would drive me crazy with time. I’d be all jaded, dying my hair black and itching to get the hell out.

I’m still amazed at how happy-go-lucky Owen was about the whole trip. I was worried, concerned that he would cry the whole way, or be anxy about being in a roomful of strangers, or not be able to sleep in a stranger’s playpen. But he slept well, apart from being sniffly [cat allergies, I suppose] and he had but a few episodes of stranger-danger freakout, usually when some well-meaning person got alarmingly all up in his grill. But thankfully he was easily soothed.

I don’t know how much of it I can attribute to my own parenting, and how much of it is his own personality, but damn, we got us a good one. And Lord, how I love to show him off. He’s so beautiful! He’s so perfect!

AND HE ROLLED OVER TODAY! [“How do you like that? I buried the lead”*]. Four distinct times, from front to back. We had to help him get his left arm in a non-spraining position but he did the rest of the work himself. He probably wet his pants at all the shrieking and praising and squealing we did.

We gave him some squash, his first vegetable, as a reward. He wasn’t impressed. Covered in orange goo, yes, but impressed, no.

In other news: The Oven Repair Guy is coming over at 8 a.m. to fix our damn oven. It’s gas, and it won’t light, and I’m kinda concerned the whole thing is gonna blow one of these days. Plus, I was suffering from a rather debilitating case of “I hate the universe”-variety PMS last week, and how fucking unfair it was that I couldn’t even bake a pan of brownies to alleviate it. I had to settle for Captain Crunch, which is not even in the Chocolate food group. Stupid oven.

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