Before Jack arrived, I was given this golden nugget of parenting advice:

If the blow-out is too bad, throw the onesie away.

When blow-outs happen, they scramble your brain.  You don't want to do what you know you have to do.  You panic nonsensically that you might have to use like TEN WIPES.  You don't understand why you went to graduate school.  It didn't prepare you for this.  Nothing has.  And how does the baby choose THAT MOMENT to smile at you, looking so pleased with himself?

I've shared the advice.  I've had friends come back to me and thank me for it.  Because their babies' blow-outs scrambled their brains, too, and the one clear thought they could muster was that it's okay to toss the bit of cotton and snaps that probably came from Target.  You don't have to clean it.  You are already demeaning yourself enough.

*     *     *     *     *

Sawyer and I took Jack to the dentist the other day.  He chose that moment to have a massive blow-out.  And, with the grit and determination of a second time mother, I cleaned it up and saved the onesie.  Because it's the fancy onesie with Texas and the guitar on it.

When you finish that selfie, you will realize that I have just shit in your lap, Mom.
I love you.

Sawyer was pretty pleased with himself.

Sawyer:  One
Mama:  Zero

Hope your dignity remains intact today.

Talk soon,
Heather

is he twelve?

The other night, Durel and Jack had "man time."  This entailed a haircut (Jack), a sports bar for dinner (Jack and Durel), and a trip to Menchies (ostensibly Jack, but who doesn't love Menchies?).  

When I say "sports bar," I really mean a restaurant with a lot of TVs.  TVs that are turned to sporting events, not to Bravo for Project Runway reruns.  (Although, that's not a bad idea.  Ten kinds of white wine by the glass and TVs showing The Golden Girls, Felicity, and You've Got Mail?)

The hostess was trying to assess whether Durel and Jack were eligible to sit in the bar area for dinner.  She sized them up, turned to Durel and asked, "Is he twelve?"

[long pause]

No.  Nope, he is not.  He is FOUR.  He looks nothing like a twelve year old.  From Earth.

So, they sat outside.

This snapshot from the dinner gives a pretty good overview of where Jack is these days.  He is a little man.  He loves cheeseburgers and Star Wars.  And he does not look twelve yet.

Gratuitous froyo shot:

Hope your devil may care attitude is adorable today.

Talk soon,
Heather

to sleep or not to sleep

Sleep is so awesome.

From what I remember.

OK, that's not entirely fair.  Sawyer is sleeping pretty well.  He's doing extremely well when you consider that he was a preemie.  And Durel takes a night feeding every night, because he's awesome like that.

Regardless, being woken by a screaming imp at 3 AM totally stinks.  No matter how cute the imp is.  No matter how good the coffee tastes.  No matter how much you like the quiet stillness of the morning when it's just you and your vanilla-scented baby.

Sawyer is perplexed by my deep desire to sleep during the nighttime hours, uninterrupted.

You want me to sleep through the night?
Mother.  I'm doing the best I can here.
Eat, sleep, poop, smile, repeat.  It's a lot to remember.

However, he is open to discussion on the topic.  He attempts to sway me with his amazing cuteness.

I'm cute, right?  Doesn't that help?
Like, so cute that 3 AM is totally fine?

Ultimately, we reach a BATNA.  I cannot accept less than this, but I can work with this.

I know, I know.  I'll work on it.
And yes, I am so awesome.

Hope you get to yes today.

Talk soon,
Heather

the unbearable cuteness of being

One of the questions I am getting most these days is:  "How is Jack handling being a big brother?"

People are asking because getting a sibling can cause a chemical reaction.  That reaction can be cool and interesting, like the requisite science class volcano eruption experiment.  Or, the reaction can be uncool and scary, like whatever happened to The Joker's face.

Luckily for us, even though we do love Batman in our family, Sawyer has been welcomed into Jack's world with open arms.  

Jack wants to change his diapers (no); help to bathe him (OK); teach him to walk (eventually); and help us to drop him off and pick him up at school each day (OK, but please hurry up putting your shoes back on).

Despite knowing deep down what a good heart Jack has, I had visions of eye-poking and "accidental" hitting when the baby arrived.

I should have known better.

Hope you get to cuddle with someone you adore today.

Talk soon,
Heather

coming soon

We'll be back soon.  Life is good and cute pictures and stories abound.

Hope you are rocking the life aquatic today.

Talk soon,
Heather