Poo Shrapnel, the Football Hold & A Promise Not to Always Write About Bables

I apologize, as this was written around a month ago.  Our Tiny Dreamer is much improved and has grown into a terrible amount of fun and general happiness.  Carry on.

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I’m working on a PhD in Fecal Analysis.  Realistically, I’m in the one-hundreds right now, as in, 101, 102, 103 – you get me.  I’d hate to think of what’s covered in the upper levels (parents of multiples, you are my heroes), but down here at entry level, I am getting schooled in the basics: Color, Texture, Frequency and The Blowout.  Later in the year we’ll get to: Solids, Diarrhea Preparedness, Diaper-Changing on the Fly, and Small Beads and the Infant GI System: What You Need to Know.  

I think the second year study packet comes with a prescription for anxiety meds.  It does, doesn’t it?  DOESN’T IT??

I’ll be honest.  This new adventure into small person co-habitation has been fierce.  Someone out there is popping out angelic cherubs: chubby, rose-cheeked babes who seem to spread rays of snuggly warmth and send the aroma of new baby sweetness wafting through the air (inspiring many to jump the baby broom, as it were).  This is not qualitatively bad, as we do need the population to amble forward.  However, I must confess to having a little bit of a complex regarding easy infants.  In fact, a friend and I saw a mom of newborn twins (1 ½ week old) the other day, and in response to my friend’s “how are you doing?”, she commented that she was bored.  BORED.

B

O

R

E

D. 

I have pacified myself by noting that life is not likely to be boring for long in her house, and for this double duty, my prayers go with her.  In his first couple months of life, my son was not boring.  I imaging many or most of you feel as though you have also gifted with very, um, exciting children.  So exciting, in fact, that they feel the need to shout their excitement to the rooftops with great strength and enthusiasm.  This leads to terrific conversations during which people stop me and say, “wow, your son was really going ballistic earlier, huh?!”.

Yes.  Yes he was.  Crazy, right?

Honestly, despite all of the madness that we often feel and his exceptional knack at peeing sans-diaper when we least expect it, our little Captain is a great addition to the family.  Even the cat approves, which certainly counts for something.   And though, truthfully, there were some things that were simply more fun before (let’s be real, folks), it’s impossible to look forward and not see him there, fussing, farting and yammering far into the sunset.