Adrian is teething. (the overachiever)
Oh, the screamy screaming and fussiness!!!!
Horrible tooth, you have disrupted our lives and put an end to our favorite gummy grin. For shame!
My day is now accompanied by a sound track that sounds like this:
enh-enh-enh-mmmmmmm-enh-enh-eeeeeeeeeeeee-enh-enh-muuuuuuh-enh-enh (repeat)
Monday, February 28, 2005
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Back in the day
Hello to all you party peoples.
It's been busy 'round here, and I apologize for leaving you in the dark. Adrian has gone through a few developments that have left me a little pressed for time (and sleep). This past week he mastered rolling from his tummy to his back, and can go from his back to his tummy but has yet to put the two movements together to complete a full roll. He has also discovered his feet, but I don't think he realizes that they're his feet. And his newest development: dropping all of those lovely newborn signals for "I'm hungry". So how do we know he's hungry now? Because he goes from playing and laughing to crying (sobbing like he's on a Spanish soap opera) in less time than it takes to blink. This one is going to be a real crowd-pleaser, I'm sure.
I've discovered that the best toys are the ones that Adrian claims on his own. This morning he was entertained for 7 whole minutes by a bottle of Ibuprofen. (He can't pick his nose, let alone maneuver open a child-proof cap) Another favorite is a large, plastic, green, Army man who is daily drowned in baby saliva. This particular toy used to belong to my brother (hi, Jono!) and made the journey to Oklahoma as a stowaway in the Big Blue Chair. Aaron discovered the Army man as he was dismantling the Chair to be taken away by the garbage men. The Big Blue Chair is a story unto itself, but the short of it is this: the Big Blue Chair was an arm chair purchased by my parents sometime between 1983 and 1987. The chair has moved from Birmingham, Alabama to Arlington, Virginia (3 separate houses there) to Salem, Virginia to Tahlequah, Oklahoma to Lawton, Oklahoma where it met it's final resting place. This chair was the place where I'd put all my clean laundry in highschool to keep it off of the floor.
As near as I can figure, the green Army man had been living in the bowels of that chair since 1993/94 until his liberation last winter. I had fully intended to mail it back to my brother in one of his care packages, but that's no longer an option. Adrian has developed a fondness for the Green Army Man (as he has come to be known), which he plucked from my desk last week.
So there you have it; molded colored plastic entertaining children across the decades.
And to tide you over in the photo department until I can get photos of Adrian up: pictures of myself and Aaron as wee ones.
Enjoy!
It's been busy 'round here, and I apologize for leaving you in the dark. Adrian has gone through a few developments that have left me a little pressed for time (and sleep). This past week he mastered rolling from his tummy to his back, and can go from his back to his tummy but has yet to put the two movements together to complete a full roll. He has also discovered his feet, but I don't think he realizes that they're his feet. And his newest development: dropping all of those lovely newborn signals for "I'm hungry". So how do we know he's hungry now? Because he goes from playing and laughing to crying (sobbing like he's on a Spanish soap opera) in less time than it takes to blink. This one is going to be a real crowd-pleaser, I'm sure.
I've discovered that the best toys are the ones that Adrian claims on his own. This morning he was entertained for 7 whole minutes by a bottle of Ibuprofen. (He can't pick his nose, let alone maneuver open a child-proof cap) Another favorite is a large, plastic, green, Army man who is daily drowned in baby saliva. This particular toy used to belong to my brother (hi, Jono!) and made the journey to Oklahoma as a stowaway in the Big Blue Chair. Aaron discovered the Army man as he was dismantling the Chair to be taken away by the garbage men. The Big Blue Chair is a story unto itself, but the short of it is this: the Big Blue Chair was an arm chair purchased by my parents sometime between 1983 and 1987. The chair has moved from Birmingham, Alabama to Arlington, Virginia (3 separate houses there) to Salem, Virginia to Tahlequah, Oklahoma to Lawton, Oklahoma where it met it's final resting place. This chair was the place where I'd put all my clean laundry in highschool to keep it off of the floor.
As near as I can figure, the green Army man had been living in the bowels of that chair since 1993/94 until his liberation last winter. I had fully intended to mail it back to my brother in one of his care packages, but that's no longer an option. Adrian has developed a fondness for the Green Army Man (as he has come to be known), which he plucked from my desk last week.
So there you have it; molded colored plastic entertaining children across the decades.
And to tide you over in the photo department until I can get photos of Adrian up: pictures of myself and Aaron as wee ones.
Enjoy!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Weird Dreams
IT'S ONLY A DREAM, PEOPLE.
So the other night I dreamt that I was in the garage looking for a suitable box that would be a good place for a severed head. (No, I don't have a severed head. I'm not actually sure where the head came from or why I had it. But I digress...) There I am in the garage, looking for a box for my head (well, not my head, but the head that was formerly someone else's head) and I look out the window and see people rummaging through Aaron's car. I decide the best course of action would be to go and tell him, because I am a weenie and do not deal with hooligans even in my dreams. And on my way to the bedroom to wake him up (because the best time to search for a box for your extra head is while your loved ones sleep) the hooligans burst into the house! And I panic because these aren't average hooligans--these are crazy knife-throwing hooligans.
That's where I panic. At the knife throwing bit. Not at the severed head bit, even though I firmly believe that the human body is not meant to be headless. I, she who gags at the surgery shows on TV and nearly passes out when she injures herself enough to bleed, am apparently much more concerned about knife-throwing hooligans than the intricacies of extra head ownership.
And that's how I know that IT'S ONLY A DREAM, PEOPLE.
Also, we don't have a garage.
So the other night I dreamt that I was in the garage looking for a suitable box that would be a good place for a severed head. (No, I don't have a severed head. I'm not actually sure where the head came from or why I had it. But I digress...) There I am in the garage, looking for a box for my head (well, not my head, but the head that was formerly someone else's head) and I look out the window and see people rummaging through Aaron's car. I decide the best course of action would be to go and tell him, because I am a weenie and do not deal with hooligans even in my dreams. And on my way to the bedroom to wake him up (because the best time to search for a box for your extra head is while your loved ones sleep) the hooligans burst into the house! And I panic because these aren't average hooligans--these are crazy knife-throwing hooligans.
That's where I panic. At the knife throwing bit. Not at the severed head bit, even though I firmly believe that the human body is not meant to be headless. I, she who gags at the surgery shows on TV and nearly passes out when she injures herself enough to bleed, am apparently much more concerned about knife-throwing hooligans than the intricacies of extra head ownership.
And that's how I know that IT'S ONLY A DREAM, PEOPLE.
Also, we don't have a garage.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Post Modern Genius!
My baby is a post modern poetry genius!
And at only 3 1/2 months...
Lately, he's taken to pounding on the keyboard whenever Aaron and I sit with him at our computers. So today I decided to open up a word document just to see what all he had to say.
And people, it's beautiful.
take a look:
hhh I\][==--
9n VY MNOI P9"
. , M P Y N8U U
]Y ,
ih,'[p
i90p "
PPPI9J OM IM NO NNNNNNNNN N
And at only 3 1/2 months...
Lately, he's taken to pounding on the keyboard whenever Aaron and I sit with him at our computers. So today I decided to open up a word document just to see what all he had to say.
And people, it's beautiful.
take a look:
hhh I\][==--
9n VY MNOI P9"
. , M P Y N8U U
]Y ,
ih,'[p
i90p "
PPPI9J OM IM NO NNNNNNNNN N
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Hair everywhere!
I have always had the kind of hair that gets into everything. Not unlike living with a dog or a cat--you find hair in the most unusual places. But recently my hair has begun to abandon my head with reckless glee. (Yes, I imagine that the escaping follicles have emotion)
Due to the fact that my hair has always been found everywhere, we have a hair trap in the bathtub to prevent unneeded clogs. Last night after my shower it looked like I had drowned a hamster in the hair trap.
I don't have any bald spots or a receding hairline...But by the amount of hair that I loose while showering, combined with the amount of hair innocently pulled out by Adrian, combined with the hair that is found ALL OVER THE HOUSE I should be bald by now.
Any day I expect to wake up with a coif looking not unlike Albert Einstein in his later years.
Due to the fact that my hair has always been found everywhere, we have a hair trap in the bathtub to prevent unneeded clogs. Last night after my shower it looked like I had drowned a hamster in the hair trap.
I don't have any bald spots or a receding hairline...But by the amount of hair that I loose while showering, combined with the amount of hair innocently pulled out by Adrian, combined with the hair that is found ALL OVER THE HOUSE I should be bald by now.
Any day I expect to wake up with a coif looking not unlike Albert Einstein in his later years.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Well that was gross.
On the thirteenth day, he pooped!
I never thought I'd be this excited about poop, but there you have it. Thanks to Nurse Celeste's secret weapon!
Now the really gross thing:
Jack (the cat) has a habit of stealing things other cats have killed and bringing them home. It makes him very unpopular with the neighborhood cats, as you can imagine. I'm not sure why he thinks that we're fooled by this, but he continues to leave other people's little morsels on our doorstep. And this morning (gross thing approaching) he brought us a bird.
A bird that had been dead for quite some time.
A dead bird with things living in it.
Ew ew ew.
I never thought I'd be this excited about poop, but there you have it. Thanks to Nurse Celeste's secret weapon!
Now the really gross thing:
Jack (the cat) has a habit of stealing things other cats have killed and bringing them home. It makes him very unpopular with the neighborhood cats, as you can imagine. I'm not sure why he thinks that we're fooled by this, but he continues to leave other people's little morsels on our doorstep. And this morning (gross thing approaching) he brought us a bird.
A bird that had been dead for quite some time.
A dead bird with things living in it.
Ew ew ew.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Remarkably good natured....
(photo) What're you doing?
Adrian has been remarkably good natured for a kid who hasn't pooped in TWELVE DAYS. Who broke my baby?
Did you break my baby?
And we've followed all of the pediatrician's recommendations...except for the one about not worrying about him not pooping in 12 days.
Because what kind of parents would we be if we didn't worry?
TWELVE DAYS.
Somebody call the Guinness book of records and see what the record is, because I'm quite sure we're about to break it.
TWELVE DAYS.
I'm incredulous.
Somebody get me a partridge in a pear tree and some eggs.
(Because those things have to do with the number twelve, see?)
TWELVE.
Thirteen by the time most of y'all read this.
Seriously, was it you who broke my baby?
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