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| ::: ::: Journal entries: ::: ::: ::: Artifact:
A pretty sky over Central Oregon.
| Monday, September 26, 2005 Our weekend involved far more driving than I want to pack into a 36-hour period again anytime soon (Bend is about 350 miles southeast of Seattle), but Riley handled his carseat purgatory remarkably well. He also performed admirably for the throngs of JB's relatives who were seeing him for the first time; he spent the entirety of a family get together awake, alert, and blinking his eyes in a ridiculously adorable manner. Everyone fell in love and fought over taking turns holding him, which awoke some strange mama bear instinct in me that I had to squash in order not to snatch him from the arms of some well-meaning cousin and snarl foamingly at all who approached. Saturday's funeral service prompted JB and I to discuss our own if-we-were-to-god-forbid-die wishes (mine mostly involved no one having to sing - or listen to anyone else sing - "How Great Thou Art") and deciding that it was time we created a will. This became more evident when, apropos of nothing, JB's father asked if we had decided who would raise Riley if god-forbid-something-happened-to-us and then stating that he would like the honor, at which point JB's mother chimed in to indicate her own interest, and after hearing that we had in fact asked JB's brother to be Riley's godfather, declared that they would help by taking care of Riley until he was "at least five years old" before handing him off to the brother, and that's about when my HEAD EXPLODED, and maybe it's best to have one's wishes clearly stated on a PIECE OF LEGAL-SIZED PAPER and signed by all involved parties, or something, and man what a depressing subject. I found it disconcerting that neither JB or I knew what each other wanted as far as arrangements in the event of our own deaths, because I can't imagine a more upsetting situation than trying to make those decisions after the fact, especially when JB mentioned that he didn't want anything religious unless his mother was still alive, in which case it should be "just enough religion to make her happy", which, what? I have no idea what that means, and so I have tasked us both with putting our shit in writing, not only with regards to Riley, but also our personal thoughts on gravesite locations, funeral service details, and whether or not we want to be embalmed, cremated, or left as a tasty beetle snack. Oh, and extraordinary measures: feeding tubes and the like - yay or nay? Etc. I'm surprised it never occurred to me before that a will might be a handy thing to have, even if you have no worldly possessions to distribute. Parenthood! It makes you responsible! Sort of. Did I mention that Riley was so busy being charming all weekend he forgot to sleep at night? Yes. Well, it's a good thing I wasn't doing any estate planning around 3 AM on Sunday, because that kid would have been willed to the foreign legion. Or possibly put on eBay. JB and I were so tired by the time we headed home we only took a couple photos, despite the glorious countryside.
Also: is it bad to leave a really poopy diaper in a hotel trashcan, if said diaper is enclosed in a sealed ziplock bag? Discuss. ::: I have all these good intentions to finish a scrapbook of pregnancy/baby photos for Riley, to be hauled out during some embarrassing moment in his future (first formal school dance, perhaps?), and I meant to include a few photos of his crusty old parents as wee tots. Whether or not this memory book actually comes to fruition remains to be seen, but I finally collected some baby pictures of JB and I. Pardon the image quality, in lieu of a scanner I had to use our camera to reproduce these. The boy:
The girl:
And their son:
What do you think? Sometimes I see both of us in his little face, but I believe he outcutes both of his parents, hands down. |
