Climbing the Cliffs of Insanity

An actual exchange Sam and I had a while back:

Sam (handing me a bottle): I mixed him up five ounces. If he drinks it, fine. If not, the sword.

me: I'm going to feed him left-handed.

Sam: You know what a hurry we're in!

me: It's the only way he can be satisfied. If I use my right — over too quickly.

Sam: Oh, have it your way.

A tooth

Marty had his first tooth pop through this week, which goes a long way toward explaining his implacable fury. That, and the cold he's been coming down with, the poor boy.

Yes, Maranda, that's your bear. (Your bear, right? Man, it's been ten years and I still don't know who any of you are.) Tamsen took a crack at starting him on rice cereal this week, and while he wasn't even remotely interested in the mush, he was quite taken with the spoon, gnawing contentedly on it and refusing to let go. It makes me think we ought to install bars on his crib so he can gnaw on them and keep his teeth the proper length.

Edie really enjoys running around and jumping, especially when we go outside, which makes me feel bad that I don't go outside with her more often. Most of our outside time is limited to walking from the house to the garage. She runs around and jumps while Tamsen and I yell at her to get in the car or in the house. When we came home from church today, she ran to our front yard and sat on the stones by our big tree. I realized that maybe I ought to make some time for her to run around, so I sat on our porch while she ran around the yard for a while until she was content. (She thanked me later by peeing through her diaper and pants.)

Bed

Marty spends quite a bit of his time in bed these days, not because he's sick or invalid or anything, but mostly because who among us wouldn't spend most of our time in bed if we had the chance?

We have more than a few pictures of Edie doing the exact same thing. If she woke up as I was heading to work, I would scoop her up from her crib and plop her in bed next to Tamsen before leaving to save her the trip across the house. Marty gets the same treatment.

Edie enjoys being in bed as much as the next person, but this week she took the unusual stop of running around the room in circles before tripping and flying into the bunk bed face first, clocking the ladder right against her eye.

Did you know that if you cut your eyebrow, a truly staggering amount of blood comes out? I, personally, did not! We got her patched up with just a band-aid once we stopped the bleeding, though it took about another half hour before I could get her to calm down and stop freaking out about the fact that she had a band-aid on her head. (The half hour consisted of my watching YouTube videos of marble runs and gently rocking her back and forth while she screamed "GET IT OFF" over and over. Parenting, man.)

We have good kids, and I promise I am absolutely not mistreating them despite any superficial wounds they may be sporting.

Smells

I gave him a bath yesterday, honest I did, and yet somehow he still smells like someone left a bucket of wet corn chips to molder for a month, then left that mixture in the sun for another month, then baked it. And then hastily smeared baby shampoo over the top, which is to say maybe I didn't do such a great job with the bath last night.

I mean, we still like him. He's giggly, he's cuddly, he loves watching Edie run around the room, and he even sleeps okay at night sometimes, but man, does this dude reek. Sometimes I'll open his diaper and take a big sniff just for a pleasant change of pace.

Edie and I have a standing date to go grocery shopping every week. We talk about the things we're buying and putting in our cart, and she picks out produce for us. We've even progressed to the point where she doesn't point at the candy in the checkout aisle and scream when I don't buy it for her! Mostly because I preemptively promise her cookies we don't have!

She sure does look good in those sunglasses, though. Pity she refuses to wear them in the car, you know, where they might actually do some good.

Talking

Edie, earlier today: I'm playing dress up. It's a hat and a blue scarf.

Marty, earlier today: eeeuuuullmmmmfffff, ggggbbbbbttptptpptptttppppp, thhhrrrrpppp, EEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Siblings

I love my kids, partially because they're awesome, but mostly because they're mine. Sometimes, though, since they're so little, I forget that they love each other, too.

Marty perks up whenever Edie comes into view. Edie will stop her running around the house to give Marty a kiss on the head. She loves to help me give him a bath. And sometimes I pick Marty up and make him walk over to Edie, bouncing him around and saying, "Here comes Marty!" Edie laughs her head off and puts her forehead right up against Marty's, and he laughs his head off, too. They seem to genuinely enjoy being around each other.

You wouldn't know it from this picture, though.

Or maybe you would? Man, I have no idea what these kids are thinking, sometimes. Edie spent a solid half hour this weekend lining up orange slices over the pictures of the U. S. presidents on a placemat we have. Sometimes I'm holding Marty on my shoulder, and he cranes his head around so he can puke down my shirt. (Remember how he threw up in my back pocket last week? He threw up in my front pocket this week, AT CHURCH. We live 20 MILES AWAY, so there was no going home to change.)

These kids, and I suspect all kids, are so, so weird.

Sass

Last night, Tamsen was getting ready to watch a TV show. Edie, seeing that the TV was on, sat on the couch and said, "I want to watch Daniel Tiger," figuring that the reason it was on was so she could watch a show. Tamsen told her that they were going to watch a Mama show, and Edie got pretty upset about it. Daniel, Daniel, Daniel, she shouted and wailed until eventually, she curled up next to Tamsen on the couch and fell asleep. After Tamsen's show was over, Edie woke up, looked at Tamsen, then got up and sat back down on the other couch. "I watch my show," she said, and made Tamsen turn on Daniel Tiger.

Marty's getting better at sitting up, and just tonight, he rolled from his back to his front without any help, which neither of us realized he could do. However, just because he's good at sitting up doesn't mean that he likes it. Sometimes I'll have him sitting in my lap while I'm trying to do something else, and he immediately arches his back and kicks his legs to try to get away from me.

These kids have some fight in them, that's for sure.