They, it's TJ. Remember us?

Missed us?

Sorry.  This is 100% my fault.  I know, I sent out a semi-humorous letter during the holidays in which I, again, invited you to visit, but there was no new content.  For months.  Again, my fault.  I hate to admit it, but on the daily priority list, this took a back seat to double ear infections, disclosure statements, charitable volunteering,  threatening letters, soccer games, and, yes, my addiction to golf.  And procrastination, but we can talk about that later.

Some of you may keep up with us via Facebook, but like here, Ashley updates that about as frequently as humans visit the moon.  I'm more verbose, but mostly with goofy stuff that I find in the internet when I get a couple of minutes to surf the intrawebz.  Case, in, point. (In my defense, I do like to post photos of the boys there.)

If interested, here are some recent videos I've made with my handy-dandy new Android-powered device, the Motorola Droid, when we took the boys to play some mini-golf.

By way of ultra-quick update, Jack is doing well.  He had his first tee ball practice on Tuesday and impressed the crowd with a barrage of bombs over the heads of the practice squad.  I'm glad he's ready to hit off a tee because he refuses to do so at home, insisting that I lob him the ball, which he drills back at me about 90% of the time.  First game is a week from Saturday, so I'll do my best to get pictures.

Jack remains almost dependent on Xbox 360 which frustrates me to no end.  I have no one to blame but myself because I brought it home.  Now I realize why my parents resisted the Segas and Nintendos when I was younger.  Then again, they didn't play them before having kids, either.  I have to admit, after a long day, it is fun to blast some digital Nazis in high definition to let out a little frustration.  But I fear that Jack has become a bit too needy for our time playing Lego Star Wars.  As much as possible, I try to defer to other (preferably outdoor) activities when we play.

Sam remains the happiest 19 month old alive, but has recently decided to begin testing his limits.  In short, he loves to be naughty.  He is currently (last two days) struggling with a double ear infection, and we may be on the road to tubes.  I'm not thrilled about it (as I fear hearing loss) but left untreated, hearing loss could occur anyways, so we may have to go the tube route regardless. No clue why this has been a persistent problem, but we definitely notice that he's been slower to pick up words than Jack was, but he's by no means behind the guidelines.  The downside of double ear infections (other than the obvious) is that it turns Sam into his "Hyde" side.  That is, he becomes everything he isn't on a normal day: needy, fussy and persistently whining, enough to tax our patience.  Sleep becomes intermittent (up every 2-3 hours throughout the night) which puts additional strain on the two of us.

However, Sam, we've discovered, really digs music.  If I turn on the iPod in the bedroom (it's attached to a stereo) he starts popping up and down and swinging his arms around.  He completes the package with a smile the size of Texas and giggles as I dance with him.  He brightens everyone's day and we are repeatedly receiving comments by strangers of "oh, he's so happy!"

So, to close, I'm intending to try to maintain this with less large "substantive" updates and more short ones with anecdotal stories about the boys (and, when appropriate, Ashley).

An Update

I've been meaning to post a few things, and just frankly haven't had free time I wanted to devote to it. I guess I'll have to start multi-tasking more often (read: posting on the blog while watching my Wildcats get screwed out of wins by freak plays and brain-fart defense.... but I digress.)

Here are some recent highlights:

• Sam started walking. I intend to post some video (since pictures do little, if any, justice to this event.) He's still in that "drunk midget" stage, where he wobbles and only goes so far, but he's getting better every day. Scary thought.
• Jack played in his first ever organized sports event: a soccer game. He has practice every Tuesday afternoon, and I'm trying to act like an assistant coach.
• Sam's had a little cough that somehow triggers his gag reflex. It's most regretful after his morning and nighttime bottles, which have, at a success rate of about 90%, ended up all over me or Ashley over the past week. Otherwise, he's fine, so we're guessing it's allergy related. To compound matters, however, he's going through a "clingy" stage. A word of advice: a clingy child who barfs frequently isn't good for family morale.
• Jack discovered my old XBox and incorporated it, along with the Wii into his video game obsession. Thankfully, he's taken to NCAA Football (2005, but hey, it's football), and we like to run the triple option so he can make touchdowns. (Of course, we have to play All-Time USC versus the Southeastern Mississippi State Technical Junior College in order to make it easy enough for Jack at this point., but everyone starts somewhere.)
• We've been outside at every chance we get. Summer in AZ is really very much like winter everywhere it snows (and is 30 or below during the day). Going outside is unbearable, so during those months we stay inside, go to McDonald's, or the PV Mall playground with the rest of humanity. Thankfully, we're now free to roam the neighborhood with abandon, to have pizza dinners in the back yard, and otherwise venture beyond our climate-controlled 1500 square abode. Yay October!
• We're selling/donating/giving away all our baby stuff, and I'm REALLY STOKED about that fact. It's going to free up something like 96.8% of the usable storage in our house. I'm not joking.
• I'm counting the days until I get my office back. It became Sam's room when he was born and ever since, my ergonomic corner desk from Office Max has become a dust receptacle. Whenever the doors are open, we stare at each other, longingly, reminiscing of days when we used to sit and actually work together. *sigh* The plan is that next July, when Sam turns two, he'll bunk with big brother Jack, and Desk and I will be back in business.
• Jack's completely consumed by the baseball playoffs. Every day, I'm asked: "Daddy, is baseball on?" While I honestly cannot say I'm tracking the progress of each series, we've probably watched a fair portion of each game. If Jack doesn't play baseball at some level (high school or college), I'll be very surprised. He's consumed by the game, practices batting and running the bases constantly, and has a pretty good arm for a three year old. Spring promises to be exciting when he starts to play T-ball.

Sam Takes a Bath

If you knew nothing about us, and all you saw was this photo, you would most assuredly conclude that we're hillbillies. Frankly, sometimes it's just easier to dunk the kid in the sink than draw a full bath. He doesn't seem to mind one bit.

Some things I learned today.

Jack taught me the following things today:

1. The lyrics are not "He's got the whole world in His hands," but instead "He's got the whole world in his pants."

2. I didn't really fly all the way to Scotland to play golf in '07, I just drove to Scottsdale.

3. Superman is the only person who plays in Scotland because he can fly there whenever he wants.

4. Jack can hit his little USA Kids Golf driver 50 yards... with no formal lessons to date.

5. Cousin Ethan plays on a golf course in Tucson where they use only sticks and rocks.

Potty-training update: If potty-training had an economic equivalent, we're in stagflation: Potty-training progress is stagnated and my frustration with the issue is inflating.*

Sam is great. He turned 1 in late July. He points at you and waves to say "hi" and "bye." Then he sees something he can eat, his eyes grow huge, and he points directly at it, grunt-yelling until you give it to him. He crawls faster than people in Tucson drive and eats more than his brother does most of the time. He claps, usually when people on the TV clap, including golf claps. He loves to toss (roll) a ball back and forth with you as you sit on the ground. He is the "OMG! the cutest baby ever!" according to any female under the age of 17 behind you in line at the supermarket or behind the counter at Old Navy. {sarcasm} Yeah, I know, LOL @ OMG! {/sarcasm}

Lastly, this is quite possibly the greatest invention of the modern era. "Darn, that's pricey!" you are likely saying. Let me tell you that after a couple of those puppies, you will not care what it cost. The first time I saw it at a party, my eyes grew large, I pointed at it and then grunt-yelled until they gave me one. It was delish.

* I spent 10 minutes trying to decide if you can use two colons in this manner. I decided for it, and will let my fellow law school compatriots comment furiously in the negative, after having diligently solicited their grammar guides. After reading newspapers for the last few years, I've decided grammar in America is officially dead.

We Now Speak "Samhili," Too.

We speak fluent Jackanese. We now speak Samhili, too.

As a good little baby should, Sam has been making repetitive sounds for a month or so. But only this last week did he begin to associate them. Much to Ashley's delight, Sam did not follow Jack's lead and instead said "Ma-Ma" first (as opposed to "Da-Da"). Crawling in her direction, he'll babble on, "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma..."

Further (and quite unsurprisingly, considering the child's voracious appetite) his next word was associated with his main form of sustenance: Ba-Ba for "bottle."

Hopefully, "Da-Da" will be listed as one of his first five words.

Sam is Crawling

We've been monitoring Sam's progress for a while, expecting that any day now, he'd figure out how to keep his knees up and under him and coordinate his arms and legs to start moving on his own.  Jack crawled at nine months, but we didn't expect Sam would match that date since he was eight weeks premature.  We were wrong.  When I arrived home today, I put Sam down on the bed while I changed.  He immediately took a four point stance and started scooting toward me.  Previously, he could achieve only the four point stance, rock back and forth, and then push himself back up into a seated position.  For a while, he was pushing himself backwards, but driving in reverse wasn't his goal, I imagine.  

While we celebrate this momentous occasion (pun intended), it's time to break out the electrical plug covers, and start moving all items below waist level to higher ground.  

A Sad Excuse for a Post.

Things have been a little hectic for this writer. I keep telling you people to encourage Ashley to write on this thing, but so far, she's been unpursuaded. Step it up a notch, please; I do have a day job, you know.

Since the last post:

• Sam cut one tooth, then another (both bottom front), and has started sleeping longer stretches in the night (6 to 8 hours at a time), inbetween the nights the teeth were coming in which were "not fun";


• I went to The Masters in Augusta, Ga. It was incredible; and,


• Jack has taken two swimming lessons and, for the first time, dunked his head under water and did "swimmy arms" by himself. To date, he's been deathly afraid of water and getting near it, although he does enjoy the 2' deep kiddie pool at the Club. He was very proud to tell me that he had gone underwater, and I was equally proud of him for it.

The Wee One.

Everyone seems to enjoy video of the "wee" one.  

Buddies

 

It's good having buddies nearby.  I never felt like I had good friends within walking distance growing up.  Jack is blessed to have one of his best friends, Charlie, footsteps from his front door (back door, really, but who's counting).  And Sam and Charlie's little brother, Wes, are only 10 weeks apart.  And Ashley and I really enjoy Charlie and Wes' parents.  They're loads of fun, easy to get along with, and don't frown when we pop a bottle of wine or a beer.  

[Yes, friends, that's the famous couch the boys are sitting on.  It will likely have to be incinerated once we're finished with it.  No amount of reupholstering will save it, I'm guessing.]

Sam Laughs, Falls Down: A Compilation

(With the help of Jack, a large foam dinosaur, and iMovie)

Zi6: Test Run.

Sam hanging out on the bed.

Sam is sitting up.

We're making progress!  Sam is now sitting up on his own.  Oddly enough, he still cannot fully roll over, so the order of things is a bit odd, but we're happy that he can entertain himself for short periods of time.  That's great news for the overworked parents.  Video to follow.

Theft is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

So lately, we've been juggling a few things around here, mostly trying (in vain) to potty train Jack (with very little success), trying to get Jack to bed before 9:30pm (aiming for 8:00, mind you) trying to figure out why Sam sleeps only 30 minutes at a time during the day and maybe 4-5 hour stretches at night (at best), and all the while dealing with the standard accouterment which accompanies living life (paying bills, for example). So sleep has been a luxury lately. Ashley regales me with stories of naps, as she gets them, and we giggle with glee as we discuss how we're going to catch up on sleep when we send these boys to college in 18 years. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I was idly scrolling through friends-of-friends blogs and ran across this little gem. The writer is somewhat of a local celebrity, to the extent that someone who appeared for a short stint on radio as the third party to a morning show can be considered a local celebrity. Nonetheless, It'd be cool to meet her, as she seems really hilarious and her blog is wildly creative. For that she earns my respect.

Back to the point: I read this post and almost fell out of my chair laughing. Pictures do indeed say a thousand words. So I'm stealing her post and putting it here since it sums our our lives right now.

Sam Writes His Own Blog Post

 qeje a  d  lxc kkd hn kmiu,l nmboijlojob //  m, mp io   h jj   n igo o8 nmi ,ig un v

[You can tell I've run dry of publishable content when I start letting the 6 month old write.  But as far as I can tell, only Kelly L. and Julianne M. read this so it's really only for us three to laugh about.]

This Blog Isn't Just About Kids, People.

I realize, looking back over the last few posts, that not much has been said about my two little boys, the title sponsors of this rodeo.  If you come here to read nothing but cute stories about young children, you've come to the wrong place.  This is pretty much my pet project/ventilation system/stream of consciousness, so you'll just have to deal with it, and get your kiddie info as it comes.  For "inquiring minds," I offer the following:

Sam:  Tonight, while I ate my face-charring-spicy-bowl, Sam played contently with the paper bag that it arrived in.  (He was unharmed while I consumed molten lava.)  He seemed to really dig the paper bag, so we'll revisit that toy sometime soon.  I now recall that Jack at this age always loved "non-toy toys" and, if you recall, his first taped session of ongoing belly laughter was created with the assistance of an Old Navy shopping bag.  [Editors Note:  Despite this, my requests to return to Target ALL of the stuff we gained in baby showers and use that money to buy an Xbox 360 continue to go unheard.  Alas...]  He is still suffering from on and off constipation issues, but I've saved you from "Poop-watch 2009" because my posts would have been a stream of complaints about his fussiness, and you've all heard that before.  He's such a cute baby (yes, a picture would be nice) and, when he's not eating/crying/sleeping/fussing, he's a joy to be around and lights up the room with his smile.  To quantify it, he's awesome 2/5ths of the time.  Another 2/5ths of the time, I let him live.  The remaining 1/5th, he's sleeping.  

Jack:  Still not potty-trained.  Underwear is just another fun "dress up" item.  I'm sure he thinks, "Hey look, Lightning McQueen occupies space on my rear!"  To add to the complications of life, he's now slowly dropping his nap, which means that some days, he naps (and can still rock a 2 + hour nap, yielding a bedtime around 9:30 or 10:00 p.m.) and sometimes he doesn't (yielding a battle royal and, mostly, a 7:30 to 8:00 p.m. bedtime).  He's a stellar baseball player, though, and I assure you that he'll win a batting title when he's old enough for tee ball.  He's got two tee-ball tees, and one that even shoots balls out at him which he then smacks back at me.  His fielding is still rough, but we're working on it.  Also, he's starting to get the hang of chipping golf balls in the back yard (much to my delight) but likes to steal my golf balls and then hit them toward me or the house/windows (much to my chagrin).  Don't tell him, but pretty soon, he'll get a bike with training wheels.  That should be fun, since I love to bike, too, and hope to get him into an active lifestyle (since, you know, I am the poster boy for active lifestyle).  

Jack and I are all alone this weekend, as Ashley and Sam leave for a Beth Moore (I just threw up a little in my mouth) conference with her good friend Jamie from college.  We've got some things on the calendar, but it's going to be interesting.  Thankfully, when Ashley leaves, Jack knows that he has very little rope and I have no patience for destructive frivolity, so he's generally very well behaved.  So I've got that going for me this weekend.

Raspberries

When Sam gets tired, he blows raspberries.  Why? Who knows.

My boys make me so proud.

Feeding my unending desire to ensure that my sons grow up strong, confident and mature, I constantly test them in ways no professional educator ever will. For example, last night Jack and I were watching the 1964 stop motion animation classic "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" with Burl Ives lending his penetrating vocal talent as the overstuffed ice man narrator. The storyline is typical: outcast for his ghastly appearance, Rudolph becomes the hero on the basis of his nasal deformity. There is also a twisting subplot of a discontent elf who dislikes toy making and sets out to become a dentist. Substitute "hairdresser" for "dentist" in my last sentence, and you've got a 2008 plot line ready to go into production. Call me, Hollywood.

During a break, a commercial for Barbie dolls played. "Mommy, she's beautiful!" a young girl exclaims, holding her newly unwrapped, anorexic mannequin. The mother turns to the camera, "I received my first barbie in 1964..." The message was clear: Barbie's are timeless and somehow necessary in these tough economic times. Seizing the opportunity to test my growing man-child, I asked Jack, "Jack, do you want a Barbie for Christmas?"

"No, daddy!" he quickly exclaimed, his voice scoffing at the mere suggestion. "Barbies are for grwils." (grwils = girls, as I'm sure you've already figured out. You're all so smart!) I brimmed with pride, knowing that at least for today, Jack wasn't going to start wearing dresses and playing with Barbie dolls.

Sam, too, brings us unending joy. He's almost ready to join the NFL. At four months (really two months, if you "adjust" him for his 8 week early arrival), he's sleeping through the night. (Twice as of this date, with a funky night in between that included both kids up at all hours of the night screaming while their Daddy was incapacitated on a full dose of NyQuil, leaving Mommy to singlehandedly feed the crying newborn and negotiate the return of Jack to his bed at three different points in the night.) Sleeping through at four months beats Jack's record by a solid five months, which improves life substantially. (If you knew either of us during Jack's first nine months, you saw what were effectively useless shells of people, moving between events on a daily basis. Those were dark days, indeed.)

Sam is incredibly strong. When resting on my lap, the likes to grab my fingers and try to pull himself up to a seated position. He does little mini-crunches which are pretty funny to watch. His head and neck strength are rapidly improving and I'm hopeful to put him in the Bumbo seat soon. He's tracking people in the room, enjoying his swing, and HATES tummy time. In fact, twice now, he's (whether intentionally or not we don't know) rolled himself over from tummy to back when put in "tummy time." He's a very happy and generally content kid, which bodes well considering that his older brother gives new meaning to "high maintenance."

Sam continues to struggle with his constipation, but it's getting better as time progresses, especially now that we can (with medical approval) supply him with a steady stream of apple juice. Not satisfied with the results of apple juice, Ashley had to traumatize him by administering a glycerin suppository. Translation: She jammed a little gooey plug in his butt in hopes it would make him vacate his bowels. (*GASP*) On the upside, it promptly produced results. Later, Sam and I had a rousing discussion of the mental and developmental ramifications of his mother jamming things in his rear at such a young and tender age. He smiled and cooed back at me. I'll make sure to ask him the same question about Barbies when the time comes.

Did you miss us?

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."

Dinosaur Sam

Adventures in Potty Training: Episode 1

I believe I have blogged before (but am too lazy tonight to go re-read all of my musings) that we are trying to potty train Jack.  We have had limited success.  "Limited" means that he will "consider" using the potty, but never actually execute when on it.  He sits on it, but does not release anything.  He has, I'm told, stood up in the bath and peed in the bath.  He found that quite amusing, actually.  But since the bath is not, technically the potty (although some opinions might differ, particularly those who find it acceptable to pee in the pool) it cannot be considered a successful attempt.  

In the process, however, Jack has learned how to remove his pants and diaper.  He does this repeatedly, but not frequently.  I guess you'd call it "irregularly" so we don't consider it a huge issue.  He has an exhibitionist streak in him, so we tolerate it.  It's good for some well-placed laughs, especially when you insert Mormon missionaries into the mix, but that's never happened so it's just a funny daydream I've had, at best.  

On October 27th, the cleaning people had come and blown a fuse in our kitchen, rendering our fridge inoperable.  Ashley was frantically trying to find a fuse (we have a 1952 fuse box, not yet upgraded to the new, "switch" type fuses that they installed later in the century, so to reset the fuse, we have to replace it), when Jack approached her and said, "Mommy, there's poop on the carpet."  

This was no cause for alarm.  Routinely, our furry wastes-of-space (some would call them "cats") will upchuck on the carpet, usually as a result of, and in combination with, a hairball.  Jack thinks it's poop and calls it as much, even though we tell him it's cat vomit.  Regardless, Ashley grabbed her tools for cat vomit extraction and went off to the living room to begin the clean up operation.  Sam, distraught over something unknown, continued to cry loudly and incessantly, raising Ashley's stress level even more.  

What she found, however, was quite different than cat vomit:

Jack had removed his diaper and dropped a deuce on the carpet.  

I am SO GLAD I have a day job.