On the fashion side, ravensron used to wear Dad's old Ike jacket, because they look really cool. They were phased out of the Army because they only look really cool if you have a slim waste, and the pudgy REMF's who make the decisions didn't look good in them.
On the practical-but-looks-cute side, when Nom was pregnant with Hedgefund, her 3rd trimester was in winter. One option was to buy a brand-new winter coat that she would wear for 3 months out of her entire life. Not a good use of money. Second option was to wear my old field jacket. Since she's slender, and a head shorter than I; her heavily pregnant, and me in fighting form, were the same size around. Fit her great, nice and warm, highly durable, we already owned it, and she did indeed make camou look cute.
With small kids, travel is still not Relaxing (note capital R). Just much slower. Pick up stuff at a local market supermarket to eat in the room (microwavable). Eat off-hours anywhere decent. If manage one tourist sight before kids crash/meltdown, then we’re doing well. Walk a bit, pushing stroller until kids nap. Much chilling in the room, or maybe poolside. Rinsing shirt in sink. Not underwear. Traveling light... except for all the stuff for kids. At some point it has been 1small suitcase for Nom and I, 2 large ones for kids stuff. And that's not even counting the stroller. Airlines love us. (I tend to head straight for the priority check-in. Maybe they don't like it, but will like 2 hyperactive kids running around check-in even less. They can bill me an extra 25-cents.) This last trip, Hedgefund decided that the ideal mix was 1 large suitcase for her, and 1 for everyone else together. Did I mention fashionista? We convinced her otherwise.
The irony is palpable. The other morning had coffee with my friend who moved to Norway. (No, I didn't have coffee in Norway, she was back in town; doesn't entirely trust the doctors in Norway.) She had on a lovely watch, which I complemented her on, then mentionned that despite being raised in the 19th century, like many people today I used my cell phone as for timekeeping. It was also my highly flexible communications center, in that could phone, text, and email from it. (Highly relevant just then, as got a text from Evil Secretary saying the email was not working at the office (since fixed).) She admitted to the good functionality of it, but pointed out that the watch was on her wrist, whereas I risked leaving the phone somewhere.
Then went food shopping with the family, then went to teach. I put said phone on the podium so I could keep track of time. And left it there when I went back to my office. *Sigh.* (Addendum: emailed the admin at the Dean's office who went down and found it for me. Picked it up later that day, exclaiming, "my precious, my precious.")
BTW, part of why I no longer wear a wrist watch is that I find them uncomfortable, especially in summer when I'm sweaty. I also tend to always manage to snag it on things. You'd think I'd just wear a pocket watch (like we always used to in the 19th century). However, I don't wear a vest every day, and pants no longer have fob pockets. Well, most pants. The only pants that usually do have such a high-end elegant feature, are (one more minor bit of irony) jeans, the lowest-end, least elegant type of pants.
Our car is my late father's old Toyota Matrix, which is basically a small station wagon built on Corolla body. I thought it was large, until put two full-sized child seats in the back, leaving room enough for Nom to wedge herself between them only for short trips. I think she'd be more comfortable in one of the child seats. A friend gave me a lift somewhere the other day. He has 3 teenage children, and both a large SUV and a minivan. We were in the latter. I never claimed to be cool in the usual sense (in other senses, I'm the most interesting person I know), but at least I could comfort myself by knowing that I did not, and never would, drive a minivan. Gentle Readers, never say never. A chill wind blew across my soul, knowing that there is likely a minivan in my future. *Sigh* The sacrifices one makes to have children.
In an article in a recent journal, patient were asked their preferences of how they would prefer their Dermatologist to be dressed in different situations (eg Medical vs Surgical Dermatology) with the options being business attire (eg suit and tie), professional (eg lab coat), surgical (eg scrub suit), or casual (eg casual). For all situations, patients preferred professional dress; yes, even in modern, increasingly casual America. I'm pleased to see that my beliefs are validated. I've always worn a lab coat with shirt and tie (and yes, pants and socks and shoes, for the smart alecks in the crowd). My idea of "casual" is maybe once/month ditching the tie.
I didn't always do that, although I learned early on in my career. When I started out in practice, I was in the Navy, and I wore my uniform. When I was an intern, I wore either a lab coat over my uniform, or scrubs, depending on what service I was rotating through. That's how all the house staff dressed. When I was in practice in the Fleet and with the Marines, I just wore my uniform (there was a medical crest on the collar). That's how we all dressed. When I first got out of the Navy and was working in walk-in clinics and ER's, I decided not to be one of those dorks who wore a white lab coat. My g.f. at the time was the daughter of a small town GP, and her father never wore a lab coat, and she too made fun of those dorks who did so. What wasn't figured into the equation was that he practiced in a small town, and everyone know he was ole' doc XX. He'd delivered half the town - and their mothers - and didn't need a badge of office ("Badges? I don't need no stinkin' badges."). One day saw a patient in the ER. I introduced myself, did the exam, wrote out the prescription. Then the nurse came in to discharge him, and he asked, "but when am I going to be seen by the doctor?" In his mind, no white coat, no doctor. Easy to make fun of him, but in fact, I was at fault having not presented the image he was expecting, the simple sign saying MD (Me Doctor). I learned (I don't usually learn that fast about social clues, I guess I was having a good day).
I've been preaching the wearing of the white lab coat to students and residents since. Nice to have some office data behind what I say.
Now that we got that out of the way, there's one item came to mind recently that I can't even comprehend understanding. I mean all that other stuff I accept might make sense and be understandable in some parallel universe, but not this one item.
Socks. What's the deal with them? Why are women fascinated by socks? Why are socks regarded as wonderful, romantic presents? And why do women put on socks to go to sleep knowing that after a few minutes they will take them off?
Don't get me wrong, I wear socks. I even have a range of colors. For special use: white for exercising, white kilt hose (to wear with my kilt). For everyday wear: black, a few black with grey highlights, and even one all gray one (hey, I'm a rebel). No: flowers, snoopies, planets, dinosaurs, clever sayings, emoji, or any other such folly. It would be unmanly. If I'm gonna wear those, I might just as well wear fishnets. I could carry it off fishnets and still look manly. But not cutesy socks. I don't do cutesy. But even serious-minded, professional women and business women, who would cut your heart out for daring to suggest they'd like My Little Pony swoon over the thought of My Little Pony socks.
Well, they are filming the latest X-men movie in Montreal. (BTW, if there another generation of X-men, will they be the Y-men? Millennial-persons? Probably not, it will more likely be called X-men Deep Space Nine.) Anyhow, he might have wandered off the set, but they usually don't do that, and besides, at closer look, the jacket looked a bit homemade. Very good for homemade, but not quite big-budget-Hollywood-movie.
Maybe there's a SciFi convention in town that I wasn't aware of? I generally don't pay attention to the "what's happening" section of the local papers, what with rarely reading the local papers.
As I was pondering this, I heard something on the radio about the Gay Pride Parade. Yeah, that was it; he'd wandered off from the Parade.
Hey, maybe it's a combination? Maybe he's part of a new generation of Gay Superheros: Mr. Gay, or the 46XY-men, or Homosexuality Lad. He wouldn't quite be the first. Many of you Gentle Readers already know Low Pressure Lad, who, disguised as oxymoron67 is a milder mannered blogger for a great metropolitan website. His superpowers include weather control and extreme sarcasm.
Anyhow, beastly hot weather for a parade. Maybe they should have had Low Pressure Lad as an honored special guest. Meeting with colleague was in an air conditioned restaurant; conversation and food both good.
Really need a shirt that says "If I'm wearing camo, then Daddy dressed me."
I confess the camo onesie was meant as a joke, but then I thought, 'why not?' Looks good on her (says the entirely objective doting, ex-military, Daddy).
Actually, I'm not the only one in the family who ever wore camo; Nom has been known to do so also**
*Well, anyhow, michikatinski asked.
**Okay, only last year, when she was very pregnant. Wasn't going to go out and buy an expensive winter coat for 2 months of her life when I had some toasty warm, and very large (on her) field jackets. Sorry, don't have any pix of that, but she really looked much cuter in it than I ever did.
I, on the other hand, am the family neat freak. My socks are aligned, my sheets are ironed, my dirt is raked, and I can always find north because the molecules in my body have their magnetic poles all aligned. Perhaps there are some slight exaggerations in that last sentence, but I'm a firm believer in, and practitioner of, "a place for everything and everything in its place." Then Hedgefund happened.
( A SMALL BUT NOW-TYPICAL CORNER OF MY HOME )
The odd thing is that babies don't care about all these toys & clothes. They are bought by doting parents, family, friends, and well-wishers for their adult satisfaction. She probably needs about 3 onesies; she has more outfits than Nom & I combined. As for toys, she is happy playing with a piece of paper, waving it about, crumpling it, and tearing it to pieces. She is especially happy so playing with a piece of piece that is an important and valuable document. Or one on which I am trying to write. Or the pen that I'm trying to write with. Or the book that I'm trying to read. Or my glasses that I'm using to read it. Much like a cat (looping us back to the first paragraph), wherever the adult attention is, that must be the most interesting item in the universe, and therefore the thing she wants to grab.
Maybe onesies are sized kind of the inverse of women's clothing. Women's clothing has been slowly undergoing a size-inflation. "Oh look, I'm still a size-4." Yeah, but 10 years ago, something that big was a size-6 or -8 or size-oxen. To make up for it, they created size-0 (which probably means you don't exist), not to mention double- and triple-0. For babies, they do the opposite; they tell you the onesies are for older babies than they actually are, so parents feel good about "how big my baby's growing."
As for Hedgefund, those long legs will stand her in good stead when she's a super model. Or Olympic Athlete. Or both. Neither of which will be her career, just a pleasant interlude before she goes to medical school and business school, en route to becoming CEO of a Fortune-500 company. But no pressure there, kid. We want you take enjoy life too. Take time out to smell the roses. Mom will put it on your agenda: Mondays 9:00-9:05 AM "smell roses."
( Click for pic )
The one-month mark is a big deal in Vietnamese culture, so Nom's family came over and had a brief ceremony. Nom's father is very precise about making sure everything is according to Hoyle, and brought all the accoutrements. It's all very symbolic. As best I understand what he was explaining
( A few ceremonial details )
Afterwards we all went out to brunch at Spanel, our favorite creperie. It was her first outing in her stroller (partly b/c she's finally old enough, and partly b/c it's finally warm enough). She was very well behaved and enjoyed the crepes and cappuccino very much (which is to say that she slept through the whole thing).
She's added a few more tricks. She can roll over. Totally shocked both of us, more her. If her facial expressions mean anything, she was thinking, "OMG, I'm on my stomach. How-the-heck did that happen?" She's wriggling more too (which is how she accidentally ended up rolling over). I think that the wiggling, like her facial expressions, is aimless at this time. It's more that she's exploring using her body. At some point, she'll connect different actions with results: "hey, if I wiggle like this, I will end up on my stomached, and I want to do that."
She has definitely outgrown a few of her outfits, and sometimes drinks more than one (small) bottle at once. Both of which make us a tiny bit wistful for "the old days." She's growing up (surprise!). Life has now hit a certain steady state. Before everything was all new, now it's a kind of routine. That is not to say it's boring. We're very proud and happy of each moment with her.
Hedgefund is moving out into the world. Literally. Went out yesterday and today. Parents often make a big deal about having to pack a "diaper bag." To me, that is simple and easy. Must be my Army background: "keep your gear packed and ready at hand, when you have to go, just grab it and go." In this case, diapers, bottles, wipes, etc, not maps and ammo, but same principal.
First outing was yesterday to the Pediatrician for the 1-week visit. (One week! My they grow up so fast. ^_^) All went well. The Ped made the appropriate noises about how cute she is and growing so well, etc. "I bet they say that to all the parents," but Nom very pleased. I was more pleased that exam was thorough and nothing heinous found.
Today went to Club Prix. Seems we are now going to need the diapers, wipes, etc in industrial quantities, plus a few other items for general household use. Did she enjoy it? Of course. She's all girl; we were going shopping. (To be honest, she mostly slept through the experience.)
Bottom line, managed to get her around locally and none of us died from it. Strangest thing was Nom getting into the back seat. Kept almost telling her to get into the front, then catching myself b/c of course she is getting into the back next to Hedgefund.
Clothes horse to be:
Hedgefund is rather small. Don't know if she'll get my height eventually, but for the moment, she has Nom's lovely petite frame. This is all fine and well, but even the smallest sized baby clothing is a bit too big for her. She squirms out of the arms and legs and gets tangled up. Maybe she's a future nudist*. Nom loved shopping for baby clothes for her, but we're fine with mostly having used clothes from family and friends. When she's older (girl? preteen? teen?) maybe she'll be all girly and Nom can enjoy going shopping with her. On the other hand, maybe her adolescent rebellion will be becoming a Tomboy. It's all good.
*LaJ, before you decide to celebrate, gotta warn you, she hates Led Zeppelin.
However, I am adjusting my view on that lately. "Someone," who is rather pregnant at the moment, no longer fits into her coat. The only thing that fits her is my old camouflage field jacket. It's fairly warm (not on a par with her top-of-the-line Canada Goose coat, but warm enough right now). It's an permissible as a fashion statement if it's your boyfriend's old field jacket (as opposed to paying way too much money in a boutique). Have to admit it looks way sexier on her than it does on me.
I usually wear a tie to work (yes, I'm a dinosaur), but once in a while I walk on the wild side and don't (even we dinosaurs have our rebel moments). The other day, was thinking of going bare, but said to myself to stop being lax and wear it. Should have listened to that little voice that said not to wear it. Met Nom for lunch at an Indian restaurant for Thali plates, and promptly dipped my tie into the lentils. I jerked it back, and scattered lentils (and sauce) everywhere, including all over my shirt. Maybe I'll have to start keeping a spare tie in the office too. (And maybe spare pants for when I leave the house not noticing the baby puke on the pair I'm wearing.)
Maybe that's what happens to the socks that go missing - they metamorphosize into T-shirts, or perhaps just some sort of exchange program like a junior year abroad in University. Or maybe a reverse burglar broke in and left me extra T-shirts. Any way, it's weird. Tried to report it to the Department Domestic Stuff, Division of Weird Occurrences, Section on Underwear and Lingerie, but got left on hold too long.
"Thought I'd go casual today."
"Yeah right, you don't even go without a tie."
I figured as long as I had the shirt off, I might as well take all the junk out of my pockets, take my shoes off, and weigh myself ("slim and lovely," since you asked).
ES: "If you take your pants off too, I'm out of here."
Me: "Okay, I'll stop here, but post a sign 'no shirt, no shoes no service'."
Was properly attired by the time patients came in after lunch: stain-free shirt, shoes, necktie, labcoat, crown and sceptre.