Oscar in Funky Town

Oscar has discovered the thrill of '80s one-hit wonders Lipps Inc. Can you blame the kid?

Birthday and all that jazz

Big stuff. Hope turned three. She's pulling herself to a stand — as we learned last weekend when we came in to her room and found her cruising in her crib — and Oscar is nearly sitting. More on that later.

And now, an Oscar video

Oscar is a cheap smile and expensive laugh. The kid spends two-thirds of the day smiling, and doesn't give much of a hoot about what.

Lamps? Awesome. Ladies in the super market? Hey there, momma. Ceiling fans? Now, you're talking. A poster frame? C'est magnifique.

It's fun to see. But we've noticed lately that to get O really chuckling takes more than simply walking into the room. Sure, that'll generate a grin. But for a full-on, tell me another one-liner Henny Youngman, that takes some work.

Which is why we don't have a lot of video of that yet. But we do have video of him smiling and chatting a lot, so that's what we're posting.

Fundraising, surgery and a helmet

A gigantic thank you to friends and family near and far for another successful Walk for Will and Hope. This year, we drew about 75-80 walkers for a picture-perfect 2-mile stroll. The weather was unseasonably warm. The leaves were magnificent. The company was terrific. Hope and Oscar were in fine spirits. We really couldn't have asked for much more.

We're happy to report we raised another $4,500 for the Cornelia de Lange Syndrome Foundation, pushing our two-year total past $10,000. It means so much to us that we could do this to honor Hope and Will, who would have turned 6 five days after the walk. It's hard to believe it's been that long. We miss you, pal.

It's also hard to believe it's been 18 days since the walk. A whole lot has happened since then. About five days after the walk -- two days after we put my parents on a plane -- Hope had her supraglottoplasty surgery. That's the surgery to correct her laryngomalacia, a floppiness of her airway that made her seem like she was wheezing or snoring when she breathed.

Laryngomalacia is fairly common and benign among newborns. Most outgrow it in about 12-24 months. But most aren't nearly 3 and still about 16 pounds. We worried Hope's breathing was compromised by the floppiness of her airway and that she had a tougher time getting over colds because of it.

The surgery involved cutting floppy skin from her windpipe that caused the wheezing. It required anesthesia and putting an oxygen tube down her throat during the procedure. So naturally, we were freaked out. We were doubly freaked when we decided on the eve of surgery to read medical studies about what could go wrong. Never a great idea.

Hope was a champ. She left the hospital that afternoon, was a total pill that night, but bounced back to her old goofy, sweet self the next day. Her breathing improved immediately. It's odd not to be able to hear Hope from 50 paces anymore, but wonderful.

Both Oscar and Hope are doing great. We realize how infrequently we've updated the blog when we look back and realize what we've neglected to mention.

Hope started school in September. I drop her off about 9 and Mo picks her up about 3. We were dreading it. But Hope seems to be doing great. In a little more than a month, she's begun potty training and is weaning herself off bottles. It's five days a week and Hope is usually pretty exhausted -- no naps for little girls -- but she's been really happy since she started.

Oscar got a cranial helmet to correct a flat spot on the back of his head about three days before the walk. We were bummed, of course, that he'll need to wear it 23+ hours a day for the next 2-4 months. He may look like Spaceman Spiff, but he is utterly unbothered. His attitude seems to be: Hey dudes! I'm wearin' a helmet!

It's ironic, after nearly three years of fielding questions about Hope's size or her glasses, to answer questions about Oscar's helmet. The other day, in the Post Office, a clerk asked Mo if it was a fashion accessory. A few weeks ago, a girl at a toy store pointed at Oscar and screamed: Look! A baby in a helmet! Her embarrassed mother found us later and tripped over herself apologizing. I told my daughter, some kids are just born sick. We don't make fun of them.

Lordy, lordy, lady. Quit while you're behind.

There's a whole lot more, but not enough time. We're busy making cupcakes and preparing for Hope's third birthday on Halloween. She's a fairy princess. Oscar is a monkey. We think they look pretty cute. But neither seems thrilled by the prospect.

Our son, the caveman

Our son has learned a new skill. Don't blame Dad.

Hope makes her move

Hope let go.

Saturday, unable to find her beloved Winnie the Pooh push cart or inferior-but-will-do-in-a-pinch lawnmower one, Hope stood against a wall, looked around, thought Why not? and walked.

It wasn't one of those Oh, I'll take a few brave steps and grab ahold of something sturdy walks, either. This was Lewis and Clark, Vasco de Gama and Neil Armstrong embarking on brave new world conquests.

Hope planted her flag in her bedroom, surveyed the riches, proceeded to the hallway and declared our bedroom part of her sovereign kingdom. It wasn't a one-and-done dilettantish affair either. Once Hope realized she could walk, she's become Speed Racer, moseying about the house in a royal quest quest to knock stuff over, inspect coasters, open and close cabinets and see what she can throw in the toilet next.

We're ecstatic, of course. It's been such a long time coming. She's been inching this way for some time since she began cruising on Memorial Day Weekend in 2009. Slowly but surely, she gained more confidence and strength and put the pieces together.

We thought she was ready for a breakthrough in spring and set the end of summer as a goal to get her walking. She suffered a setback. We weren't sure if it was the introduction of a baby brother or molars or outgrowing her orthodics, but her confidence sagged. So did her progress.

We were bummed. But Hope gets her determination from Mom and procrastination from Dad and pulled it out with two days to spare.

There were days, early on, when we weren't sure this day would come. Before Hope could sit, when she was a bit of a wiggly blob, her first physical therapist, Shirley, told Mo: "She's going to be a mover. I can see her running one day."

Mo cried. The affirmation came just when we needed it and carried us through some slow months. Hope's not quite running just yet. But she will.

We're walking again

Last year, we fulfilled a promise to Will and honored his memory with the Walk for Will and Hope, a 2-mile leisurely trek to raise money for the Cornelia de Lange Syndrome Foundation. We didn't know what to expect, fumbled our way through and were knocked over by the reception, raising more than $6,000 for the foundation.

This year, the pressure is on. Between getting ready for Hope to start school next week (Lord almighty) a host of doctors' appointments, potential surgery to address Hope's tracheomalacia and figuring out when Oscar ever sleeps, we're sponsoring the walk again. It's at 9 a.m. Oct. 10 at Stony Creek Metropark in Shelby Township. Same Bat Time and Channel as last year.

More appropriately, Mo is putting it on again. She's the captain, quartermaster and ringleader. I'm the dork who yells into the bullhorn.

Like last year, we're not sure what to expect. Times are tough. We're reluctant to hit people up again after giving so generously last year. It's a long drive.

But we've always been surprised by folks' generosity. And, like last year, we know we can count on support from hither and yon. Unlike last year, we're making it easier for you hither and yonners.

Partnering with the foundation, we've set up a site through First Giving to donate directly to the CdLS Foundation in honor of Will and Hope. It's www.firstgiving.com/walkforwillandhope. We're also putting a link directly on the blog near Hope's photo. If you're more comfortable, you can donate directly to the foundation. The address is on that site.

Of course, we'd prefer to see folks at the walk. Like last year, we'll be doughnuts. New this year is a special guest appearance all the way from Bangor, Maine, of my parents. Some kid named Oscar will be there as well.

As will Hope, who if all goes well, will actually be walking part of the walk. She's getting very close and very determined. If not, she'll sleep through it like she did last year. Either way, it should be a hootenany.

Hope to see you there. And thanks for enduring the sales pitch.