I love it when you call me Big Poppa
Biggie Smalls, AKA Spawnling, weighed in at a presentable 10lbs 15oz at his two week appointment (his first doctor's visit since we came home from l'hopitale) . He's a healthy, sturdy little demon and requires no more visits for another six weeks. His head measures 38.5cm and he's 54cm long, I think. I can't quite remember. Chalk it up to him being a third baby, the poor thing. So he's chubby and has a big head, but tall he is not. Who says they don't take after me?
My aunt came over this morning and cleaned nearly all the first floor. I forgot she was coming up until she called and left a message yesterday evening, so I didn't even get a chance to pre-clean.
What's pre-cleaning? That's when you tidy up so people can come over and, um, tidy up. I've never had someone come clean my house professionally, but I have a strong suspicion I'd be one of those useless customers who cleans their own home so as not to be embarrassed when the cleaner comes over. Neurotic? Yes, a little.
Ok, a lot.
Tonight I am bunting bag hunting. All winter babies should be birthed with bunting bags, as far as I'm concerned. They make the average snowsuit completely obsolete. Why wrestle with getting Spawnling in and out of a bulky thing with arm and leg holes when I can just zip and unzip him right into the carseat? Simplicity is good for the slow of mind. And my oh my, am I slow of mind lately (well, all the time, but especially lately).
Later, if he behaves himself, we'll be crashing the 12 step meeting again. This is all while Geekster takes the other two gremlins to a Hallowe'en party at Intrepid's school. I'd go along, but I don't think Spawnling needs to be around 400 kids and their parents in a germ-infested gym right now. I know he's breastfed and all, but he can only get coughed on so many times before the cesspool claims another victim.
Then, we all get to crawl back into the house exhausted and pack for an overnight trip to the in-laws'! No, nobody insisted we go visit. In fact, we all figured we wouldn't make the drive until well into November. But, you see, it was my idea. I think I'm addicted to chaos and have felt a little let down in that department since Spawnling's arrival. I was hoping for so much more mayhem, you know? So I've had to make some up; there's no way to cure peace and quiet like a three hour long drive with three kids! I give myself a big pat on the back. Nobody drives me crazy like me does.
Well, I should probably help Intrepid put his zombie costume together. Yes, thats' right: we haven't actually made his costume yet. It's a zombie, damnit. How hard can it be? Take some old clothing, rip it up a bit more, throw some face paint and stuff on him. Done. Lazy, bon-bon-eating new mothers know how this works. Trust in the force, Luke.
My aunt came over this morning and cleaned nearly all the first floor. I forgot she was coming up until she called and left a message yesterday evening, so I didn't even get a chance to pre-clean.
What's pre-cleaning? That's when you tidy up so people can come over and, um, tidy up. I've never had someone come clean my house professionally, but I have a strong suspicion I'd be one of those useless customers who cleans their own home so as not to be embarrassed when the cleaner comes over. Neurotic? Yes, a little.
Ok, a lot.
Tonight I am bunting bag hunting. All winter babies should be birthed with bunting bags, as far as I'm concerned. They make the average snowsuit completely obsolete. Why wrestle with getting Spawnling in and out of a bulky thing with arm and leg holes when I can just zip and unzip him right into the carseat? Simplicity is good for the slow of mind. And my oh my, am I slow of mind lately (well, all the time, but especially lately).
Later, if he behaves himself, we'll be crashing the 12 step meeting again. This is all while Geekster takes the other two gremlins to a Hallowe'en party at Intrepid's school. I'd go along, but I don't think Spawnling needs to be around 400 kids and their parents in a germ-infested gym right now. I know he's breastfed and all, but he can only get coughed on so many times before the cesspool claims another victim.
Then, we all get to crawl back into the house exhausted and pack for an overnight trip to the in-laws'! No, nobody insisted we go visit. In fact, we all figured we wouldn't make the drive until well into November. But, you see, it was my idea. I think I'm addicted to chaos and have felt a little let down in that department since Spawnling's arrival. I was hoping for so much more mayhem, you know? So I've had to make some up; there's no way to cure peace and quiet like a three hour long drive with three kids! I give myself a big pat on the back. Nobody drives me crazy like me does.
Well, I should probably help Intrepid put his zombie costume together. Yes, thats' right: we haven't actually made his costume yet. It's a zombie, damnit. How hard can it be? Take some old clothing, rip it up a bit more, throw some face paint and stuff on him. Done. Lazy, bon-bon-eating new mothers know how this works. Trust in the force, Luke.