It's Business Time.

People who are married will find this funny.  Single people will not. 

I cried the first time I saw it.

For Good Measure.

I never get tired of pictures of kids covered in food.  Give Jack ANYTHING with frosting, he'll manage to eat all the frosting and destroy the item upon which the frosting was placed, consuming as little of the non-frosting part as possible.  In this instance, it was the city's finest cupcake from Karsh's Bakery.  (Of course Ashley and I ate it, are you kidding?  It's a cupcake, not a half-eaten hotdog.)

Jack is a Medieval Cowboy Monk

Recipe: 

One (1) sheet of unused black velvet cloth from re-shoot of baby photos at fancy photographer's studio;

Two (2) lengths of rope cut from cat scratching post that has been scratched into oblivion;

One (1) Tequila sponsored cowboy hat received at golf tournament; and,

One (1) two year old with a penchant for the ridiculous.  

Cut hole in black velvet at midpoint, insert child's head.  Cut rope into lengths and fasten one around black velvet-clad adolescent.  Fasten cheap cowboy hat on child's head.  Issue second length of rope to act as "whip."  Giggle with glee as the historically confused child scampers about the house, taming imaginary steers chanting, "Howdy, pard-ner." 

It was a slow day at work.

Sam is Getting Bigger: An Update

Recently, I posted that Sam was 8 lbs and 1 oz.  I was wrong.  He weighed in at 8 lbs and 4 oz.  But, as I have also written about, Sam has been enduring an ongoing battle with his colon.  At that point, we was on day 6 of Operation Need To Poop, so there was quite a bit of backup that added some weight.  Shortly after the appointment, he released his payload.  I wont go into detail, but if you've seen video of dams being blown up and the reservoir spilling out, endangering the people that live below, that pretty much sums it up.  Just replace "dam" with "Sam" and "people who live below" with "Ashley."  

So, officially, he probably ended up at 8 lbs 1oz after the vacation of his bowels.  So I was technically correct.

"Wow, I need to go #2... bad"

Getting Into The Holiday Spirit

Ashley's mother, Laurie Sue, takes care of Jack one day a week.  This began when Ashley went back to work after Jack was born, and has continued despite the fact that Ashley is now home with both kids.  The day off helps Ashley keep things in order and gives her some time to run errands without dragging along The Two Foot Destruction Artist (a/k/a Jack) and Captain Grumpypants (a/k/a Sam).  More on Sam later.  

Laurie Sue was in education for many years, and has a PhD in child psychology.  (Both of my in-laws are PhD's in Psychology.  Yeah, chew on that for a while.  I've developed my share of psychoses arising simply from that fact.)  The great part about that is that she is diligent to involve Jack in activities that develop his maturing mind and allow his adolescent creativity to expand and develop.  

Around the holidays, she uses the opportunity to engage Jack in various art projects.  As Halloween approaches, Jack has painted his own mini-Jack-o-Lantern and made some "scary" signs to hang on the front door.

[Seeing this post, and looking at the picture of himself painting his pumpkin, Jack commented (somewhat embarrassed), "I still have my jammies on there!"]

Turning to Sam, he gets in the holiday spirit by being constipated (latest count: 5 days worth) and passing the worst gas any one can conceive.  I pity Ashley who has to endure it during feedings.  He's going to be a "Chemical Weapons Developer" for Halloween.

I christen thee Captain Grumpypants.  Why?  He cries... an incredible amount. (I believe that is related to the lack of "BMs.")  He's a pacifier baby, which we were excited about at first, but if that little $.02 piece of plastic falls out, he goes ballistic. Put him in his carseat - ballistic. Set him down for 2 seconds to type this blog post - he erupts.  

As hard as Jack's 2 hour feeding rotation was, the constant assault on the eardrums is equally as rough. A Sam scream reaches into the deepest levels of my psyche, grabs a hold and twists painfully. Yay stress!