This is the end.

Bill and I have separated, and we will be getting a divorce. Most of you know by now, but there’s no way to avoid telling the world, at some point. So now you know. I’m not going into any kind of detail here (You’re welcome. Darling.) but suffice it to say that the “Pav-u-lous” family that once was is holding its collective head high and moving on with its life.

The one untouchable, of course, is Xavier, who stands strong among the destruction left to the Z and P families. And so, we (me, obviously) will be transitioning this site to xaviershea.wordpress.com, where we can focus solely on Xavier Shea.

Please pardon our dust, and thank you for all of your support as we make this change (these many, many changes) — without some of you … well. You should know who you are are, and how grateful we are to you for everything you’ve done for us.

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Pediatric Food Allergies on the Rise in US

I'm not sure if this means Xavier is screwed because he's, well, a middle-class American child, or if he'll be fine because I rarely clean my house.

AOL Health: Pediatric Food Allergies on the Rise in US

Note: I definitely owe more than a short post about Xavier's current allergy situation. It's coming soon, I swear.

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It's a hard-knock life

I love hate when people ask if life is hard with a baby. Xavier is not hard -- he's mushy and lovey and his skin is soft and even his lemon face is so sweet it hurts my molars. It's life that's hard. Why doesn't anybody tell you that?

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Like father, like son

Today was the last day of a long weekend, and also the last day of an even longer week off from work. So Bill and I both have been walking around all day with the knowledge that tomorrow is going to suck, which means some unnecessary bickering was inevitable.

I went out to run some errands early this afternoon, leaving Bill home with the laundry and a napping baby. When I came home, about 2 hours later, the laundry was almost done ... but the baby was still sleeping. But of course, the baby began to stir as soon as Mama walked through the door, bags in hand. So I took over while Bill left to get a haircut.

I saved Xavier from his baby prison, changed his diaper and brought him downstairs, where I fed him some soy yogurt and rice crackers. Then I chased him around the living room -- for a baby with a broken arm, he moves pretty fast. Bill returned a little while later and grilled up some burgers for the two of us.

Since he had made lunch, I told him to leave the dishes; I would do them if he watched the baby. He asked me what time I had changed his diaper and they went upstairs. Bill came down, alone, 5 minutes later.

I turned around from the dishes and asked, "Where's the baby?"

"He's upstairs," he said. "It's nap time."

I had known that's what he was going to say before I even asked, so then I yelled. "He just woke up! Why would you put him to bed again?"

He went back upstairs and brought Xavier down with him. When I finished the dishes, Xavier was crawling around, this close to trouble on one side of the living room, and Bill was sitting on the couch on the other side of the living room, looking at his phone. I probably yelled something, or maybe I just thought it, but either way, Bill knew I was mad and we started the spiral where I get mad at him and he gets madder.

Jenny called me just then, so I went upstairs to hang up some clothes while hearing about her weekend. When I came down, Xavier was still trying hard to get into trouble, and Bill had switched to a different couch.

I began the argument I'd been having in my head for a half hour. "Listen. I know I'm lazy, and I try really, really hard not to be lazy with him. We don't read to him, we don't sing to him and we don't take him for walks. All he does while he's awake is play around on the floor with his toys, and I make a conscious effort to play with him and not just sit and watch. And I still feel bad about not doing enough. I have had to pee since I walked in the house and I still haven't because I was playing with him, but as soon as I handed him over to you, you tried to put him down for a nap! And he's sitting around in his diaper!"

"I took off his shorts when I brought him up for his nap."

"Well I know you think it would be great to hang out with no pants on, but I don't think he likes it as much as you do."

"Xavier -- are you having fun hanging out with Dada?"

Clear as day, Xavier said, "Yeah!"

[You have to understand, the only words he says at this point are "Mama," "Dada" and a whole lot of "ba, ba, ba, ba, ba."]

And just like that, Xavier ended the potential fight. How could I argue with that?

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Is left not right?

Don't be confused by my title. No, Xavier hasn't chosen a political party yet, though Papa Z has already started working on it.

Instead, this post is about Xavier's developmental milestones. My baby books have been collecting dust somewhere, and I've all but given up reading my weekly BabyCenter updates. But today I looked at Parents.com's "Growth & Development Milestones: 8-12 Months" list to see if X is keeping up with where he's supposed to be. He seems to be just starting to catch up to other kids his age on "pulling to standing," and he definitely hasn't started "pointing" yet, so I made a mental note to work on that one. However, he talks (yells) a lot (constantly), and his precision when feeding himself is spot on.

But that's where my question comes in: he definitely appears to be left-handed, especially when feeding himself.

Which is awesome! Left-handedness is so cool, and I've always wished I was, so I would be excited if X took after his daddy and grew up as a south paw (Which still doesn't make sense to me? What is that phrase supposed to mean anyway? South is down, not left).

But this list of milestones clearly states that he shouldn't be showing any hand preference yet. And that worries me.

Now, it's not that he doesn't use his right hand at all, because he does. And his ability to pick up a small piece of food and get it right in his mouth with either hand is impressive. I think I might miss my mouth more than he misses his. But he definitely seems to use his left hand more than his right, and I want to make sure that doesn't mean that the left side of his brain (because that controls his right hand, right?) is lagging or not functioning properly.

Also, of course I'm not going to take Parents.com's word for it, and I'm going to ask our pediatrician before I start assuming he has some kind of brain misfiring.

So, no, I'm not a crazy new-mommy. And I don't run to the doctor every time he cries or bumps his head (although our pediatrician's office has seen us more than some of our close friends since Xavier was born, but his ear infections and not my paranoia are the reason for our weekly visits).

But I still worry. He's my baby.

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Food discoveries

Food is a huge, huge (huge) part of my life. I spend quite a bit of time each day deciding what I'm going to eat, and getting really excited about it. That's just how I roll. With this whole new trying-to-be-healthy thing, it's sometimes more difficult to get excited about food, but still, I'm trying to make changes that I know will stick -- it doesn't make sense for me to resign myself to eating food I hate, because I will wind up falling back into old habits eventually.

Last night, I went to ShopRite armed with a list for Xavier and determined to find food that he will love and that won't make him break out in hives. I started with fruits and vegetables (no, I don't know what kind of pear that is, Checkout Guy. I don't eat pears, so just pick one on your little ring-up computer) and noticed the "organic" section right next to it. I pointed my cart in that direction and walked up and down the four aisles and just started throwing healthiness into my cart. Like Vans wheat-free frozen pancakes. Yum.

This morning, I opened a new purchase for myself -- Cascadian Farms Honey Nut O's -- and tasted one: not bad. I had hope for the O's in milk, fat free though it might be. I was wrong. The O's began to mush-i-fy as soon as the milk hit them, and there's nothing worse that soggy cereal. Soggy cereal is too close to oatmeal, and oatmeal is flavored vomit in a bowl. So the Honey Nut O's went to a coworker for her hubby, and I moved on to Plan B: Fiber One Chocolate Fudge Toaster Pastries. Well, one toaster pastry, which is 3 points.

I toasted (warmed, really) it up a bit and took a bite: not decadent by any means, and not quite the S'mores PopTart of my younger years, but definitely edible. Mmm.

Now I wish I hadn't wasted all of my milk on that cereal...

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Focusing on the fly

As someone with a communication degree, I can't help but feel inadequate when I watch sports. The knowledge and excitement those announcers bring to each game amazes me every time.

I decided to go into the field of communication -- that means that, at some point, I had the potential to enter broadcasting. If I had begun liking sports a few years earlier, perhaps, or if I had taken that TV class in high school, I might have liked it, and I might have decided to give it a go. I could have taken that entry-level class in college. I could have become a member of WGLS or RTN.

But just as quickly as I think it could've been me, I think that it never could've been me. I don't have that silver voice. I can't focus my brain that quickly on the fly. Probably most important, I don't know anything about sports. I can't imagine the level of embarrassment I might have felt if I had tried it.

Probably a level similar to the level of embarrassment I felt every year I enrolled in art classes I wasn't good enough for, my awkward pencil scratching no match for my classmates' fluid charcoal sketching. I (barely) held my own for a few years, and gave up as soon as I got to college.

That being said, I'm glad the Devils tied up the Series tonight. Devils!

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