My sincere apologies for the dearth of posts. As you can tell, I've had no success convincing Ashley to write anything here. "You're funny, I'm not," she rationalizes. "You were the valedictorian of your high school class, had straight A's in college, explain genetics to the common man, and mothered two beautiful children. Now you spend 99% of your waking life with them. Who do you think has more material than you?" I reply. She shrugs and walks away, effectively ending the argument. Such is my life. If she didn't have such a great rear, I'd keep arguing; I don't.
Otherwise, life has been pretty hectic between work, managing an over-active social life (think birthday parties for 2 year olds and church events, not Barcelona and Axis/Radius until 3am), and trying to dissuade Sam from crying 96% of his time awake.
Technically, I don't think they qualify him as "colicky" but dang this kid is fussy. I do not remember Jack as incredibly fussy at this age, he only cried to eat every two hours, which Ashley addressed by feeding him which, we found, quieted his complaints, but it also furthered his unbearable 2-hour feeding schedule. This go-round, we're smarter (or just simply more masochistic) in that we don't kowtow to Sam's every hunger pang. The net result is that if Sam wakes prematurely by, say, Jack whelping like a 12 year old girl at a Hanna Montana concert, he just cries for an hour or so until the alloted feeding time. Despite numerous lessons, Jack doesn't quite understand the concept of an "inside voice." So Jack frequently wakes up Sam, who then cries.
"Enough griping, TJ" you say? "Tell us about fun stuff!"
Fine.
Since October 21st, my last post, Halloween happened. It was enjoyable. Jack dressed up like a penguin. "Why?" you astutely ask. Because his costume was a freebie from a fancy birthday party that he attended earlier this year, that's why. We're in a recession, don't you know? I have to fund important things like golf tournaments, cufflinks and bottles of Scotch. We cannot be discarding hard-earned money hither and yon with such unnecessary items as prefabricated costumes. Had it not been for the penguin costume, Jack would have been a "robot," consisting of one (1) roll of duct tape and one (1) box of tinfoil, liberally wrapped around his torso, legs and arms. I would have suggested we modify an old pot lid for a hat.
...
[Sorry for the delay, I was away writing myself a note for next October, titled "Incredibly Affordable Robot Costume."]
Sam was very cute in his little dinosaur outfit. It was a nice, warm flannel outfit to protect him against the inevitable cold that greets trick-or-treaters on October 31st in Phoenix, Arizona. Generally, October ushers in the cooler days and nights. Instead, the weather delivered it's own Halloween "trick" by giving us mid-90's temperatures. Thanks Mother Earth. I drove my car 200 extra miles this month just to get back at you. I hear you don't like carbon monoxide all that much. Suck on that.
In the week before Halloween, my maternal grandfather, Everett, died. He had been on the decline for a while, so it was not a huge shock. My maternal grandmother had died when I was in college, so he had been single for a while. He met a nice lady who lived in the same assisted living facility that he did and they came to numerous family events as a "couple." I could go on for pages about that (she became somewhat senile later on, and would ask the same question three and four times during dinner, which led to some interesting conversations.) She passed on about a year or so ago, leaving Grandpa alone again. We figured that was the final straw and it turned out it was.
He slowly gave in and the Lord finally took him the week before Halloween. Sam had not met him, but Jack spent some good time with him, which was special to him and Jack. Before I told Jack what had happened, I never realized how hard it was to deliver that type of news to your kids. He's almost three, but he really didn't understand it. "Where did he go?" he asked me. It took about ten minutes of explanation before it sank in. Strangely enough, Jack took it in stride and even though visits to Great Grandpa were a part of Jack's weekly visits to his Grandma Ryan, he seems to be okay with it. With kids, there's always a number of "firsts." This was the first time I had to deliver really sad news to Jack and to help him work through it.
Sam, on the other hand, responded by staring excitedly at the bubbles in his bouncer seat, flapping his arms and legs back and forth, and cooing. Yes, lights no longer hold his attention, so now he's figuring out how the bubbles work. He's smiling quite a bit, and has worked out (we hope) his constipation issues. He sleeps much better stretches than Jack ever did, so in the overall give and take, I'd say he and Jack are in a dead heat for hardest kid to manage through the "newborn" stage. But if Jack survived, Sam should too.
On lighter notes, Jack, the unintentional comedian that he is, made a funny comment the other day. While driving to one of our now innumerable family events, Ashley and Jack were having a conversation in which Jack was asking questions we considered "silly" prompting Ashley to call him a "silly goose." He responded that he "was not" a silly goose, and Ashley said, "No, you're Jack in the Beanstalk." Jack replied,
"No, momma. I'm Jack in the Carseat."
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