Bloated and enormous as I feel, I’m aware things haven’t changed so tremendously yet. These are the last days when I can refer to Callum as my favorite boy in the whole wide world. I can still cuddle him with my attention undivided. We can still make our family plans without packing #1 size diapers and breaking out the Baby Bjorn.

This weekend, we had some very special moments as a family. Last night, after peeking outside, Michael declared he’d seen fireflies, so we rushed to get Callum into his pyjamas so we could wander into the back yard and take a look. Callum’s eyes were wide and excited. He’d heard about this phenomenon known as a firefly, and Mommy and Daddy were about to introduce him to some. Alas, once we got outside, none of the creatures could be spotted, but, in those moments, we fully experienced the anticipation of introducing our son to some of the wonders of this life. That’s what makes parenting worthwhile. (Well, that, and the cuddles.)

Though the fireflies never materialized, we did have some family “firsts” this weekend. We fillled up the baby wading pool in the back yard for the first time, and some of Callum’s bath toys migrated outside. I even put on my maternity bathing suit and plopped down myself, the new vantage point allowing me to discover a purple and yellow iris hiding behind the weeds.

We also went to the park on Monday and took in one of those legendary NYC experiences — kids running through spraying water fountains set up to cool them off. When we arrived at the park, the stroller ride had lulled Callum to sleep, so we sat on a bench and parked him in the shade, watching him closely for signs of awakening. Once he opened his eyes (we’d started calling his name at the first sign of stirring), his first words were, “the water is on!”

Callum took a little while to warm up to the idea of getting wet, but he was perfectly happy to kick his soccer ball under the streams and insist that Daddy go get it. It was a great opportunity for Michael to take Callum’s hand and nudge him along. After some initial hesitation, they rushed through the spray together, kicking the ball exuberantly. After a while, Callum grew quite comfortable, and Michael started to shiver with cold. Ah, the sacrifices he’s made for being a dad.

Yes, it’s just been another weekend of joy, and incessant “why?”s. I think we’re now ready for #2 to come along, whenever he’s ready.

Cross-posted from Free Range

Our boy’s vocabulary, and the resulting ability to string together song lyrics, have been coming along rather nicely. Here, his father’s influence is clearly evident.

Tuesday was different — it was real substantial snow that crunches with every step — and we were both eager to see Callum’s reaction to the spectacle. After all, we’d dragged him away from sunny California to this big, mostly-frozen city, where he couldn’t go outside without multiple layers. He found it generally unpleasant, but this winter thing, we promised him, had an upside — snow! We talked of snowmen and sledding, but I’m sure he was beginning to doubt our veracity. He’d seen nothing of the sort, and we’ve been here since mid-December.

After we trudged together, smiling with anticipation, we arrived at the day care and began to coax Callum outside. (Promises of snow didn’t mean much to him.) But when we finally got him out into the falling snow, he found plenty to keep him occupied. He felt the crispness of the snow underfoot; he gave snowball-making a shot; he kicked up loose snow. When we got home, Michael took him out on our newly-purchased thrift-store sled. (Due to global warming, this might be our one big chance this winter.) What was most exciting for us parents was the look of wonder in his eye as he experienced this new weather sensation. “Raining?” he kept saying. “No, honey, snowing,” we said.

Note: our camera shutter seems to have not opened completely, so our pictures are kind of screwed up.

I just hadn’t gotten around to any of it, until now. This morning, Michael and I went for the big 20-week, anatomy-scan ultrasound. In the last week or so, I’ve begun feeling little kicks. Suddenly, it’s feeling a lot more real. We’re going to HAVE A BABY! (Everything is looking good, testing-wise, thank goodness.)

It’s like all of a sudden, there’s a presence with us, a little 14 oz growing little boy (yep, we have a Y chromosome), who kicks and will, come June, be a lot more present. Difficult to believe, but true!

Our furniture (and tons and tons of boxes) arrived on the Sunday before Christmas, and we’ve been digging our way out, ever since. We set up the tree, and assorted other decorations. We’re managing to cook all right and I even brought my lunch into work today. But we’re still sleeping on the sofabed (and in the pack ‘n’ play) in the living room. Ah, it just takes time…

Christmas morning was a delight. Callum is old enough this year to get an idea of who/what Santa Claus is, and he’s spent the last week or so pointing out, and labelling, images of the old man he’s seen in holiday decorations. When we told him Santa Claus brought presents to good little girls and boys, he adamantly would say “no,” and we couldn’t quite understand what he was objecting to. Ah, such is life with a barely-verbal toddler.

Anyway, he didn’t object too much when, on Christmas morning, he finally registered the extra presents that had magically appeared (after much mid-night bumbling among boxes) under the tree. When he first awoke, he made his usual barely-conscious plea for “Dora,” and had to have his attention drawn to Santa’s leavings. But, once present unwrapping was in full swing, he kept calling for “another one.” His main gift, which also delighted the big boy (er, man) of the household, was a wooden train set. Since that morning, the chorus of “play trains,” rather than “Dora” has been his first thought upon awakening.

So, to our vast readership — which, due to moving-related, and non-moving-related lack-of-organization reasons, has not received Christmas cards from us — we wish a happy holiday season and a wonderful New Year! Drop us a line via e-mail or leave a comment if you’d like our new address and contact info.

On Wednesday, the moving truck drove away with all of our things, and we checked into the motel where we’d be sleeping for our last two nights in California. But then we headed back to the neighborhood for one last hurrah — a laid-back dinner at our wonderful neighbors’ house. They’d ordered from a legendary Berkeley pizza place we were quite fond of, and the conversation and atmosphere was easy and relaxed. As the night crept on, we grew tired and determined to head out. We said our goodbyes and the ever-energetic Callum jumped down the neighbors’ steps, walked over to our driveway, toddled up our front walkway, and stood patiently in front of our hunter-green front door, waiting to be let inside.

“No, honey,” I said, “we don’t live here anymore.”

It may go without saying, but many tears ensued, as it really sunk in that we’d never again sleep under that roof that sheltered a thousand memories. Memories of bringing Callum home from the hospital, full of worry and anticipation (and quite rightly so) of months of wakeful nights. Memories of his first steps, first tumbles, and first words.

Tomorrow we fly to our new home in NYC, where we’ll make many more family memories. Snow is forecast for our first night there, so maybe we’ll kick off the memory-making with a snowman.

is our 5 year wedding anniversary. Hard to believe.