Sorry it’s been a bit slow lately. My brother got married over the weekend, I was the best man, and between that and the baby things have been nuts, I’ve been exhausted, and haven’t had the energy to post.

I’ll write more about the weekend soon. I just had to write about this picture, because it’s too cool:

Genealogists from Connor’s generation and later, rejoice: you’ve just hit the mother-load. From left to right, roughly back to front:

– Popper (Francis), the patriarch.
– Me
– Shannon, my wife.
– Connor, our son, all of five weeks old.
– Mary Smith, my dad’s older sister.
– Behind Mary, Andrew Nitchie, my dad’s younger brother’s oldest son.
– In front of Mary, Wendy Smith, Mary’s granddaughter.
– Michael, my brother, with his arm around
– Michelle, his brand-new wife, who’s in front of
– Matt, the crazy one, Mike’s and my middle brother.
– Carl, our dad.
– Heidi, our mom.
– Douglas Campbell, our cousin, son of my dad’s younger sister, who we’ll get to in a second.
– Bill Nitchie, in profile; son of my dad’s oldest brother.
– Beth Campbell, my dad’s younger sister.
– Tamara Campbell, Beth’s daughter.
– Tamara’s fiancee, whose name escapes me. I am ashamed. Seemed like a good guy. (UPDATE: his name is Pat.)
– Behind Tamara’s fiancee, you can see the top of Ken Nitchie, my dad’s youngest sibling.
– In shadow, Kendra Smith, husband of Daryl, daughter-in-law of Mary and…
– Don Smith, whose head you can barely see behind…
– Donna Nitchie, wife of Ken
– Doug Campbell’s girlfriend. It was a busy weekend. Again, I forget the name. Still ashamed. Nice girl, though. (UPDATE: Kristin)

The folks closer to the ground, starting in front of Wendy, kneeling on the ground in the front left:
– Cindy, girlfriend of
– John Nitchie, my dad’s oldest brother
– Danny Smith, youngest son of
– Daryl Smith, my oldest cousin, son of Mary and Don.
– Scott Nitchie, middle son of Ken and Donna
– Alina Nitchie, youngest of Ken and Donna’s kids.
– A drain. Not related to anybody else, so far as I know.

Phew. Hope I got that mostly right.

Not pictured:
– Carol McGee, daughter of John
– Matt McGee, Carol’s husband
– John McGee, their son
– KCatherine McGee, their daughter; the McGees were driving from Michigan to Massachusetts at the time; work on Monday and whatnot.
– Alan Campbell, Beth’s husband, Tamara and Douglas’ dad. Not sure what he was up to out in Maine.
– Jane Nitchie, John’s late wife, mother to Bill and Carol. Much missed, well remembered.
– Nanna (Mary), Popper’s late wife, my grandmother, there in spirit, and in the faces of her children.

There’s a corresponding, and somewhat more manageable, picture from my mom’s side of the family that I don’t seem to have a copy of yet (this was taken by Shannon’s mom, I think). There are also lots more pictures at my Flickr page.

The word of the day is “snip.” That is all.

My parents came into town yesterday; they’ve been having a grand old time playing with their first grandson. One of the many neat things about Connor is that he’s the first grandchild on both sides. While I’m thinking about it, there’s also significance to the name. There are two Ns, just like his mother, Shannon, and her mother, Dianne. His initials are CN, just like mine (Chris) and my dad’s (Carl). Significance all over the place.

Yesterday was Connor’s one month birthday. After how scary things were there at the very beginning, it’s great to make it this far. It’s amazing how much he’s grown in the past few weeks. Just amazing.

One of the things I’m going to try and keep up with is doing a monthly family video. Nothing long, nothing fancy, and I probably won’t make a habit of sharing them on the internet, but since you all have been such a big part of our lives the past few months, here’s the first one.

(The music is New Smyrna Serenade by Peter Ostroushko) (Yes, it’s true, I’m a giant softie.)

Connor was but a few days old when he rolled over the first time, completely by accident. Well, we went to Mike and Michelle’s yesterday (the farthest he’s been from home so far), and whoops, he did it again! And this time, thanks to Aunt Michelle, we got it on film.

I feel bad. I know everybody wants to see lots and lots of new pictures. And I want to give them to you. I really do.

The only problem is that, well, he doesn’t really do anything besides eat, sleep, poop, flail, and grunt. Every time I take a new picture of him, it looks just like all the other pictures of him. He’s great, and we love him to death, but he’s not all that interesting yet.

He’s growing, though. At his pediatrician’s appointment last week, he’d made it up to 6 lbs. already, which is great news, and I’m sure he’s even bigger and heavier now. He’s noticeably more hefty than he used to be. His umbilical stump finally fell off today, which is particularly nice because it’s one less thing to have to deal with at the 4 AM feeding. (It’s funny how happy one less thing to do at 4 AM makes me).
And speaking of growth, the grass in our yard is beautiful. It looks healthier than it ever has, green and lush and long. Really, really long. And getting longer by the second. Watching the grass grow is a cliché for boredom, but I swear you could do it. I’d be happy, but I haven’t had the time to mow it this week, and by the time I get to it on Saturday it’s going to be an absolute nightmare.

You can find this week’s paltry list of photos, as per usual, at the flickr set, which you can reach by clicking here. They include some taken last week during the Epic 6-Hour Power Outage of ’07. Here’s a taste:

(OK, I admit it, that’s awfully cute.)

Two weeks ago, we had a baby.

Last week, we discovered that the dishwasher was in the midst of a meltdown, and taking the back of the house with it.

Today, we spent most of the day without power. The highs were in the mid-90s. It was not comfortable, and we lost a hefty portion of our milk stores.

I dread what next week’s crisis might be.

In the meantime, a diversion. While I was writing last night’s post with Connor in my arms, he started getting really hungry. It was actually pretty cute, so I decided to try to capture it on film. The result is below. I’m unsure for whom this will wind up being more embarrassing, him or me, but regardless, here goes:

Sorry I haven’t posted any new photos in the past week. Shannon’s parents left over the weekend, leaving the three of us on our own, and a bit more on all our plates. The schedule goes something like this:

7:00 A.M. Wake. Wonder why the alarm is going off so soon. Realize that three hours passed the moment your head hit the pillow. Spend several moments absorbing the fact that you have to be awake now.

7:05-7:10 A.M. Stumble out to change Connor’s diaper. Bemoan the fact that he didn’t really poo since the last time you changed him; worry that he’s not getting enough food.

7:10-7:30 A.M. Shannon feeds Connor; I try and get my bearings and figure out how to put on clothes. Maybe read a bit of news on the interweb.

7:30-7:50 A.M. I supplement the feeding he just got with a bottle, to make sure he gets enough. Quality time with the kid. Yay.

7:43 A.M. Oh. There’s the poo.

7:46 A.M. And there it is again.

7:50-7:55 A.M. Change Connor’s diaper a second time. Dread the day when the poo acquires odor.

7:55-8:30 A.M. Shannon goes back to bed. I eat some granola bars and drink a tall glass of water, and head to work.

9:00 A.M. to 5:30ish P.M. I go to work. Shannon does laundry, visits with friends, and repeats the above procedure at 10, 1, and 4, minus the supplemental feeding.

5:30ish-6:30ish P. M. Run errands on the way home, buying diapers, wipes, cat food, and whatever else we’ve run out of in the past 24 hours.

6:30ish P.M. I arrive home, likely with some prepared foodstuffs, and we eat.

7:00-8:00 P.M. See twelve hours ago.

8:00-10:00 P.M. Accomplish required tasks and duties, which include, but are not limited to: gathering trash, emptying litter boxes, keeping Connor calm (just holdinh him does the trick), doing the dishes, calling relatives, uploading photos, and writing blog posts for you people (sidebar: typing is a lot slower with a baby in your arms). At the rate I’m going, I might finish Harry Potter by the time he’s old enough to read it himself. I’ll probably never watch T.V. again.

10:00 P.M.-10:45 P.M. The feeding/changing cycle begins anew.

10:45 P.M.-11:45 P.M. If I’m lucky, squeeze in some me time, shrouded in guilt, knowing I should go to bed, knowing I’ll regret it if I don’t, but doing it anyway. Read, e-mail people, get in some much-coveted Potter time. If I’m unlucky, Connor gets fussy, and we have him time instead.

11:45 P.M.-1:00 A.M. Naptime.

1:00-1:35 A.M. We wake. I feed and change him. Shannon pumps. We put him back in the bassinet and please please please go back to sleep.

1:30-4:00 A.M. Blessed oblivion. Unless he’s fussy, in which case… put it this way. He’s cute as can be, and we love him to death, but dealing with him in the middle of the night is no fun whatsoever.

4:00-4:01 A.M. Wha? Whassdatnoise? Where am I? Who are you people? What am I doing here? Oh. Oh yeah. Maybe if I roll over it’ll go away. No? No. Dang.

4:01-4:35 A.M. We wake. Sort of. Not really. Once I figure out how to walk, I try to remember where the refrigerator is and how to work the sink to get the hot water to warm a bottle. Shannon tries to remember how to use the pump. I change him. Clumsily. He’s unimpressed.

4:35-7:00 A.M. I’m not actually convinced any time passes here; as soon as my head hits the pillow the alarm goes off at 7:00.

Rinse, rather, and repeat. Totally worth it. But my point is: there’s not a lot of time for that relaxed, laid-back takin’-pictures-of-the-baby time you used to see on those Kodak commercials. At this very moment, I look like this:

But I’m guessing when you asked for more photos, this isn’t quite what you had in mind.

Fortunately for you, Mr. and Mrs. Awesome (Uncle Mike and Aunt Michelle) were here on Monday, along with our brother Matt, in town for the day so the three of us could do some bachelor partying. Photography ensued, mostly by Michelle. The pictures are over at the flickr set. Head on over, and enjoy! And thanks for stopping by.