Take me to the mardi gras

Disclaimer express

All characters depicted are fictional. Any similarity to actual leggy beasts, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

Liquid

Baby times equal good times, extended times at home with peoples of various shapes and sizes. A whole lot of gettin' real familiar with one another and the fluids we produce. Don't worry, we won't explore the details of that one. But i digress. As mentioned previously, tiny folks have a way of putting things in perspective for the older dudes and duderellas who painstakingly took the steps to bring them into this groaning world. Many other plans have been put on hiatus for a hot minute while we adapt to life as a family of four. Until then, there are treasures being mined, and projects bubbling just under the surface.

Back in june of twenty ten, i sat in the summer sweat shoppe and recorded a little ukulele-accompanied tune known as 'words'. In the same sitting, i scratched the surface a bit with this guy who we call 'okay'. Dig.

Go to sleep

Back at the beginning of the month, before the lad joined us, we captured this impromptu lullaby per baby jane's request. Today it is made public as accompanied by moving pictures and silent films.

Cheers.

Potato guns and pigtails

Now that mama jane and myself are responsible for not only one but two tiny human beings, i am discovering more and more ways in which they absolutely own me. I could watch our newborn son sleep all day long (which he does). The way he moves, and breathes, and sneezes, and cries, and makes indiscernible facial gestures, and doesn't sneeze demand new adjectives where all others used to describe babies, and life, and such fall short.

Then there's our precocious 2 and a half year old daughter. There she is. When our piece of crap coffee maker which was purchased for more than it's sorry self is worth spews my brew all over the kitchen counter again, there she is. There she is to tell me in her sweet yet stern little voice, "Just calm down daddy. It will be alright." Well crap. That's just about enough to put things in perspective. Do you want to know how many times she complained about her sandbox being flooded during the torrential downpour this weekend? Did you guess zero? Well, hike yourself to the cupboard and fetch yourself a cookie, hotshot. You're a mathematic maestro.

By the way, my coffee maker is crap and it's just about time to do something about that. I'm inclined to wonder if maybe a potato gun shouldn't be involved.

That's it for now. I've got to get back to watching my baby sleep.

Lo and behold

We've been through some things with some folks. Maybe there's a novel what begs to be written based on some of it. Perhaps that's a stretch. Nevertheless, the real heavy shiz which hurts like hell to plow through can forge quite an impervious kinship with those who share similar journeys bisecting your own .

When we romp around the backyard with our kids hoisted high upon our shoulders, well sir, that there is a victory marked by some heavy scar tissue.

Photo op

Clap your hands say meh

"I have no doubt that the second this record becomes available there's somebody sitting in a basement at their computer with the word 'meh' already typed up, waiting to post a review." -jeff tweedy, regarding wilco's anticipated fall 2011 release on their dBpm label

No strings, no wires

But in the meantime

Sister, brother

Try to pretend as though you like each other.

Watch her as she goes

We're nearing a full week of life with little nolan james by our sides, and life at the rockey home is chill. There is a calm over our family that was absent during the first weeks following baby jane's introduction to the world. It wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault really. It just so happened that we were dealing with the gravity of actually bringing a child home with us after seven years, two miscarriages, and triplets who were stillborn just a year and change earlier. That would have been enough emotional baggage to deal with in and of itself. But by golly if we didn't have other puzzles to solve.

The biggest issues had to do with sleep or the lack thereof, and milk production... or the lack thereof. Baby jane was not getting enough to eat which led to endless crying which led to sleepless days and nights which led to all the adults in the house going completely mad. This is really an incomplete, light-hearted picture of the situation, but there's really no need to dwell on the specifics of the ensuing drama. Nevertheless, our family regained sanity once we began supplementing baby jane's diet with a bit of formula now and again. It wasn't the solution we had hoped for, but it was the only solution available. Needless to say, the kid pulled through and has grown into this ridiculously bright and joyful young lady who devours books and puzzles, draws like a maniac, and favors the musical stylings of brian wilson and paul mccartney.

Fast forward to the eventful eve of our son's birth. Smooth sailing was the name of the game, and it was mama jane who was at the helm. Two and a half years after our daughter was born, she walked into the labor & delivery ward and told them the way it would be. Asap, she was on her feet walking the halls to move labor along. She handled contractions like an olde pro. She demanded a jacuzzi of warm bath water to alleviate some of the pressure right before getting down to brass tacks. She spent less than twenty minutes pushing our boy into the world and celebrated the accuracy of her predictions regarding his boyness. She did all of this and more with no epidural, no pain meds, no tearing, and still remembers the details of that climactic moment of nolan's birth.

I may be somewhat biased and have certainly never been in the delivery room with another woman while she delivered a child, but i have the praise of medical professionals to back this claim up: my wife is a child-bearing champion. At least in a teaching hospital in downtown indianapolis, indiana, u.s.a., planet earth, milky way, she is acknowledged as a remarkable woman who has given a select few the rare opportunity to behold such a natural birth of a child. I will say it again as it is our son's namesake: a champion.

A while back our absolutely amazing friend, miss renee furrow who has been by our sides through the births of both children, had stumbled upon some research providing information which would possibly be helpful with the milk-supply issues this time around. So far, the mama/son nursing situation is running like a well-oiled machine. Mama is up, moving around, and feeling good. We're slowly starting to venture out of the home. Life as we know it is slowly turning upside down all over again.

There goes my hero.

Where the kids are alright

Here's a drawing originally intended as a bonus to be sent cross-country along with a tasty t-shirt via u.s. postal service. Baby jane decided it needed to be hanging up in her room. Request granted.

This summer, love has a new name

Dudes and duderellas, let it be known that plenty of wearables, etcetera, and such from the mustard room will be available for your purchasing pleasure at the summer 2011 indieana handicraft exchange. As usual, this summer's festivities will be held at the harrison center for the arts on saturday, june 11th from 12 noon to 8 o'clock in the pm. Details found hizzle.

Live from the mexican blanket

The greatest impromptu cavalcade of non-specific puppets in the known universe. Big thanks to Sir Kermit T. Frog for donating his time to make a special guest appearance.

Boy oh boy oh boy

On the 12th day of April, in the two-thousand and eleventh year of our Lord, Mister Nolan James Rockey entered this olde world weighing in at 7 pounds and 2 ounces. Mama Jane labored and delivered naturally in typical rawk star form, under the aid of zero pain meds, with myself and the always amazing Renee Furrow by her side. Cool. Calm. Collected.

What. A. Woman.

After less than twenty minutes of pushing, m'lady shouted, "I was right!" as our little boy was pulled into the hot white spotlights of the delivery room.

Super hawt.

To quote a friend regarding the responsibility of raising more than one child: "It just keeps getting better and stranger!" Bring on the strange! And also the orange popsicles!

Baby Jane agrees.

But before things get too strange, let's just enjoy this moment of zen.

I have yet to experience a greater display of the glory of our Creator than the fruit of all of our exhausting journeys through infertility and child loss.

How about now? Can we play outside now, daddy?

Baby Jane spent some time relocating rocks around Mama's garden. This dude was found laying low in hopes that the tiny lady would pass by.

Them bradford buds be blooming.

Baby Jane learns to fly while Mama lays a phat bowl of mulch.

The most fun a kid can have with a sandbox full of plastic and rain water.

The most chill a kid can get in a tub full of bath bubbles.

These are the days of water and sand

There is something happening here

In short

My dad (who really is a hero of mine) had a birthday this week and is celebrating by spending the week with his lady partner (my mom) just south of the hoosier state. I wanted to write about how rad he is and how we both just finished this mindbending book and discussed plans for deeper discussion.

However, it is 2:54 in the a.m. and me thinks the pillow it beckons me.

So instead, here's an incredibly flattering out-of-focus photo from the early nineties of the two of us in dope shorts singing a song that has haunted me on every return visit to olivet since.

Sweet dreams.

Take your shoes off

Let them piggies dangle in the cool breeze.

Hide your kids, hide your wife

This shady dude is the embodiment of baby-snatching. He's a bastard and he'll try and trick you with enchanting yo-yo tricks. Beware.

Thank you, pat benatar

The preceding has been a partial song-writing demo recorded for the purpose of streaming through the interwebs.

Say something for pete's sake

Pony thoughts

Sometimes the kid just says things that merit being said by a talking pony.