Ollie from Raleigh

Well, you're never going to believe this, but I'm writing another blog post. 

Yes, it's been a year-and-a-half. No, you haven't missed much. Oliver is still basically the same - drinking formula, blinking stupidly at the mobile over his crib, waiting for some teeth to grow in. 

Okay. I missed writing about his early formative years. I fell down on the job. Sue me. The important thing is that I'm back at it! 

All right, time to catch you up. 

In late 2020, we left Grammie and Papa James' house and drove up to Raleigh. We still didn't have a place to live, per se, so we decided to instead pay some totally reasonable AirBnb fees and rent a pad in the neighboring town of Cary while we kept up our search. As you can see, at this time our son was still very much into Toy Story. (He still is. I guess some things do stay the same.)

I'm not sure what he has, but he's
probably not supposed to be touching it.

Erin started her job at North Ridge Country Club, where she is a... busboy? Club pro? Head chef? I'm not sure, I don't really pay attention. But she seems to like it there, and they even let her come home sometimes.

We finally found a house in Wake Forest (on the north side of Raleigh) that most of our LA friends refer to as a "mansion," but is really just a normal-sized house for human beings. 

Sure, everything in this picture looks gorgeous,
but that sunset is clearly 'shopped.

We were so damn happy to finally have somewhere to settle down. We'd been displaced for many months, and it sucked a bazillion eggs. Amazingly, all of our stuff had survived the long stay in storage, so we hired a company to transport it to our new digs. We then packed up the rest of our essentials (see below), and headed to Wake Forest.

Behold: Schrödinger's toddler 

Oliver referred to his new home as the "fun new house," and continued to do so for maybe 15 months after we moved in. Some of the things he finds the most fun are A) going up and down the stairs without holding the railings, even though we get on him about it constantly, B) watching TV, and C) running across the length of the hardwood floor in his socks and eating shit nearly every time. Seriously, this kid and his minor injuries. If I hurt myself half that much just in the course of my daily activities, I would give up and just pay someone to bring me everything. 

The other day he hurt himself while eating an orange. That's not even a joke. "The orange hurt me," he said. To be honest, I felt more empathy for the orange. 

Shortly after we moved into our house in late 2020, Oliver started attending Wake Forest Montessori Preschool. I avoided even looking into Montessori schools for the longest time because I felt sure they had to be religious. Turns out they're not. So we drop him off there for 7 hours, 5 days a week, partly so that Erin and I can work, but also partly because he's a lot. I've heard that there are people out there with multiple kids, some of whom don't even get them out of their hair for the bulk of each day, but I don't think they actually exist. It sounds far-fetched. Anyway, he no longer cries himself into a blubbering mess each morning at drop-off, so let's say he's enjoying it there. 

You can't fake the magnitude of joy
these kids are experiencing.

I wanted to do something special in Oliver's room, so after my hands had healed from carpal tunnel surgery, I went about painting the mural I had in mind. It's a 360-degree Coco mural, done half in blacklight paint, so that when he turns off the lights, he can feel like he's a freshman at college. He likes Coco quite a bit, but I love it, and they're technically my walls. It was honestly so rewarding though to have him come home each day I was working on it, and see him scan the walls to see what was different. He'd get very excited when he spotted something new, especially when it was a character he recognized. It will be a fun thing to show off to his friends, and he'll probably really enjoy it for the next three to four years, until he's really into something new and wants me to paint over Coco, and we have to give him up for adoption. 

Now Oliver knows how Michelangelo's kid must have felt.

We've now celebrated two Halloweens here, and getting ready to have our second Christmas. Last year for Halloween he was Mike from Monsters, Inc., and this year he was Raya. 

Scary cute

He is not bound by gender norms.

Last year's Halloween, like everything else in 2020, was stupid. We didn't go trick-or-treating... Erin had to work, and Oliver and I just sat in captain's chairs at the top of the driveway and ran a remote control dump truck full of Snickers bars down to the street. He got to taste a little of the sweet nectar of the cacao bean on his lips, however, so I think he counted the day as a win. 

This year, even though the world is still shit and people are still morons, we did do a bit of light trick-or-treating. He had a blast with it, in spite of the fact that he desperately wanted to remove his hat and wig from the get-go. He'll learn better how to just accept the pain and discomfort as he gets older. 

He is getting insanely excited about Christmas now, and about Santa's impending arrival. He went through the Amazon catalog we got in the mail, and when asked to choose what he'd like for Christmas, he pointed to literally everything. I'm not sure what he thinks he's going to do with decorative flatware and a set of mixed taper holders, but if Santa brings those for him, he's welcome to knock himself out.

We sadly lost some loved ones since my last post, including my Dad, my step-mom Lynne, my Nana, and our cat O'Ryan (not going to linger on this part, because I'm trying to keep this blog lighthearted), but we did also welcome a few new family members as well! Oliver's Aunt Casie gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Jada this past September, and then we attempted to steal her thunder by soon afterward adopting two new children of our own! 

This is Harry and Marv. They chew feet.

Oliver is incredibly good with them, which is good for the cats, and also good for society at large, as it means he probably won't grow up to be a serial killer. When he's not running up to them fast enough to send them scattering, he adorably scratches them on their heads, or gives them a little peck, or lays his head on their sides and snuggles with them. At the same time, he wants to make sure they know their place, so he's also quick to yell at them if they're somewhere he believes they're not supposed to be, whether under the Christmas tree, or up on a table, or in their litter box. Okay, so perhaps he just likes to yell a lot. 

I'm sure there are a million more things I could fill you in on, but this is a good start. Hopefully I can get back into publishing posts here semi-regularly, so you can remain in the loop on my son's life. But if not, you can always just assume that he's sitting around somewhere, probably watching Toy Story.