the squibix family blog

To my credit, I was also stunningly attractive.

(Visual proof that 1993 was actually in the '80s.)

It was a time of great bangitude (of the hair variety). I twirled around my bedroom singing "Leah Archibald... Leah Archibald..."

I guess this is not so cute sounding now... now that it's written on my business cards.

On March 5th 1993 Dan and I we went on a date to Chadwicks WITH HIS PARENTS. At Dan's prompting I ordered a Turkey club, even though I had absolutely no idea what that was. Honestly, I expected something out of the Flintstones to arrive on the dinner table. Instead came a sandwich with so many layers of bread that I could have broken my jaw putting my mouth around it.

That was the first of many exciting things that Dan would introduce me to. Like mountain biking. And fried eggs. And the internet.

Ten years and one month later, Dan and I sat in my college dorm room, trying to figure out what to do in the face of my obstinate plans to move to LA. "I don't want to go through all the trouble dating you," Dan said, "If we don't plan on getting married."
"Okay," I said. "So let's get married."
Dan said, "I'll see if the church is free next weekend."

Our parents said, "NOT UNTIL YOU LIVE TOGETHER FIRST!!!"

So Dan moved out to LA and started this blog.

On September 4th 2005 we were married. I weighed 115 pounds. I just wanted to slip that in here because it will never happen again. A month later our lives changed irreperably forever. We visited the animal shelter in Sterling MA and spotted a mangey looking pup cowering in the corner. "That's ours!" Dan said. We took him home and became a family.

Then in June 2009 we got made an even bigger family with the addition of Harvey Douglas.

Harvey Douglas Archibald. A name I hadn't thought to fantasize about 17 years ago. He brings on all sorts of new dreams for the future. Primary among them, is that he grows up to look like my Danny.

And lets his bangs fly in the breeze.

Happy Valentine's day.

For those of you too busy to watch a 30-second spot (what are you doing reading our blog, anyway?) this ad is the story of a budding cross-cultural relationship told from the point of view of the young man's search strings. He studies abroad in Paris, he tries to impress a cute girl, things work out, and soon he's googling jobs in Paris. Then churches. Then the empty search box comes up, and there's a beat-long pause, and then he googles "How to assemble a crib."

Yes, I got misty-eyed. At a commercial. Something that hasn't happened since bobo.*

Okay, so I did get an MBA in marketing, so I can readily imagine the meeting between the brand managers and the ad agency. "Show them how Google enables your life. No! How Google IS your life! Google knows what you're thinking! Google's like God! You can't live without Google! We want people's DNA to shit Google!"

But I can't go down this road (even though I think it's completely hilarious to imagine someone saying "We want people's DNA to shit Google!") I simply love this ad. It sums up everything I love about the internet. That it's like real life but in the future. The future is awesome, people. It's awesome living in the future.

*Sniff! He got a new bobo!!!!

Rascal is alternately referred to as Rassy, Bassy, Bass-Bass, Boosicle, Puppy, Pups, and "The Dog" as in "Daaaaaannnnnnnyyyyy? I'm lying in bed, can you take out the Dog?"

The jury is still out on the most appropriate nick-name for our child, or as we like to call him, Harvester, Harveysons, H-sons, or "The Baby." Grandma mostly calls him Harvey, or sometimes Harve, the latter of which always gives me a chill because Harve was what everyone called my grandfather. I mean it makes sense since we did name the baby after that guy, but still. I hear "Harve, don't touch the poop!" and I imagine that it's Mr. Bernstein up there getting his diaper changed. Which by the way he would have loved if the changer was cute enough.

All this name calling makes me think about my own nom-de-mom, and what I'll be called in the coming years. Will it be Mom? Mother? Momma? Mommy? Ma?

Me, I prefer momma, but these days I'll take anything that isn't "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

With a baby it can feel like a crazy free-for-all all the time - you never know when the eating or sleeping or messing will occur, and it's all about surviving on to the next moment. But as Harvey approaches 7 months we can start to see glimpses of the little boy he's becoming. He plays, he gets context, he has an attention span for activities and he wants to be involved. And around him a family life is taking shape that's not just about caring for him but sharing with him the excitement and mundanity of every day together.

On Sunday night he drifted off to sleep next to me, his hair smelling of soap, his breath smelling of milk. It's an understatement to say it, but I love that little guy.

Yes, that's me. The cropped and ironed hair is just the icing on the extremely popular cake. But wait, you ask, what is that glint in her eye? Is it youthful naiveté? the audacity of hope? Caffeine and diet pills? Here, I'll show you a close-up:

That, my friends, is what awesome looked like in 1999. And perhaps still today.. that grey button-down shirt is still in my closet. Vintage!

My 10 year reunion was held in a bar downtown. I, befitting my honorary title of coolest member of the graduating class of 2009, showed up a full hour before anyone else. I, you see, had to greet the other cool kids as they arrived. That and being too cool to normally attend parties held in bars in Boston's financial district, I was following the rule of half-hour-fashionably late, as opposed to two-hours-fashionably late which seems to be the norm among my classmates. I did have some nice chats with other parents before slipping out to relieve the babysitter, which means I left before the full on orgy started. But seriously, if you're just arriving at midnight while I'm heading out, then you just don't DESERVE to see baby pictures on my iphone. YOU'VE MISSED YOUR CHANCE!

But before my early departure I did manage to have some good chats with my former classmates. And in case they didn't notice just how exceptionally hot I'm looking these days, I made sure to remind them that I just had a baby. I JUST HAD A BABY. OH HOW ARE YOU? I JUST HAD A BABY. And if that didn't elicit the necessary "You're looking good" from my counterpart, then I casually dropped something like: YOU LOOK GREAT! I JUST LOST 45 POUNDS!

All in all the reunion was a very life-affirming experience, particularly in affirming my choice of husband. All the boys I had crushed on in high school are now either a) fat, b) homeless musicians, or c) refusing to marry their long-term girlfriends. Not a single one is as cute as my Danny, and none would be gleefully changing diapers at 2 in the morning were fate altered.

So here's a toast to being popular in a different way these days.... to being the shoulder that baby most wants to spit on, to having the hottest legs that a puppy could want to sleep on, to hair that's neither cropped nor ironed nor barely even combed and yet my husband still calls me pretty. And to still fitting into shirts that I wore in high school. Even if they are a little grungy.

So maybe I am crazy, but I knitted those hats for my two favorite people in the world, and then they ACTUALLY WORE THEM to keep their heads warm. That people is a momma moment.

and B...

I can't imagine where he gets it from.

No, I've got no clue whatsoever.

Maybe from this guy?