Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Dear Parks,
Right about the time that I wrote the previous letter that damn brand new computer up and died on me. Can you believe that? It's not because Mom dropped it. I know it's not. Because it worked fine after I dropped it. It was a full twelve hours later the backlight went out.
So now, Mom is operating a new, brand new laptop. Turns out that Sheeba was actually discontinued in the thirty days since Nana purchased it. I bet I know why...people can't drop them without the backlight going out. People need to be able to drop their computers from time to time. And pour wine on them and use them as a plate. Things like this are important.
You are currently napping and its twenty degrees outside. I haven't bathed and your father is out running errands-pretty much a regular exciting Wednesday-off-work-because-the-City-of-Jackson-doesn't-have-water around here. The past two weeks have been extremely busy as we've finally moved into our new house in Fondren.
There are now lots of bathrooms and extra rooms that confuse you. You still wake up and look around with this confused look on your face and then quickly look for me and your Dad as if to say, "Man, I REALLY shouldn't have taken that roofie last night." I hear ya, kid.
This past month has been crazy in general and not just because it was "Baby's First Christmas". Mainly because your father and I decided that we were going to take two weeks off of work and-during that very, very, VERY short two weeks-we would take a week long trip to Florida with a six-month-old, celebrate THREE family Christmases and move. Yes, we were obviously feeling a little grandiose-and that is only one part of your parent's shared mental illnesses. That decision only capped off a year where we got married, had you, and changed jobs. What are we, CRAZY? I'll tell you what we are...TIRED.
You're about the only reason we haven't collapsed. And that's only because you demand it. That and you're so damn cute its hard not staying awake just to stare at you.
Just this morning you woke up at 7am (like usual) and you quietly played and kicked me in the stomach accepting a paci (officially known as a 'fighter' in this house) until 8:45am when you decided it was high time for us to get up and feed you. Then you wailed in an octave only dogs can hear and the day began. We then got up and gave you a "Ba Ba Jones". Your father coined that term and I can only suppose the reasoning behind it being something like those bottles are so important to you that they obviously deserved a formal surname. I would have gone with "Ba Ba Wellington"-or something of that nature-seeing as how they are so expensive, named after a doctor, and contain a forumla so costly it beats my weekly wine and gin intake. Wellington is much better suited for a bottle of that nature-but I digress. We then take you to your room, change your "booty cover" (Mama coined that one...I think the reason why is pretty obvious), and try to find some clothing not crusted with sweet potatoes and the sweat of a thousand tiny baby pores. We then attempt to entertain you for approximately twelve hours until its time for you to go back to sleep.
All of these very simple things are contained in a pretty typical morning around here unless its one of those days when your father and I obviously prayed, held our mouth right, and garnered favor with The Gods when you sleep until 8:30am and we can actually get up and bathe before you awaken and began summoning the neighborhood dogs.
All in all, the three of us have found a comfortable routine to this new life. It amazes me every day how much you are growing and how quickly it is happening and how much that breaks my heart-even when you are wailing.
I probably shouldn't tell you that we lovingly refer to you as "The Kracken" at times.
One day you will get that and think its funny. I promise.
This is you when you discovered you could sit up on your hands.
This is what your father does in his spare time at work.
.jpg)
We can only explain your fascination with shells and cheese as it being a hold over from my pregnancy when about 90% of your nutrition came from the box of shells and cheese I ate 5 out of 7 nights every week. We also don't feed you a lot and encourage you to play with plastic bags and electrical outlets.
You absolutely ADORE sweet potatoes. I feed them to you almost every night. CORRECTION: I smear them on your face. Then you laugh.
Love you Tootle Bug,
Mama
So now, Mom is operating a new, brand new laptop. Turns out that Sheeba was actually discontinued in the thirty days since Nana purchased it. I bet I know why...people can't drop them without the backlight going out. People need to be able to drop their computers from time to time. And pour wine on them and use them as a plate. Things like this are important.
You are currently napping and its twenty degrees outside. I haven't bathed and your father is out running errands-pretty much a regular exciting Wednesday-off-work-because-the-City-of-Jackson-doesn't-have-water around here. The past two weeks have been extremely busy as we've finally moved into our new house in Fondren.
There are now lots of bathrooms and extra rooms that confuse you. You still wake up and look around with this confused look on your face and then quickly look for me and your Dad as if to say, "Man, I REALLY shouldn't have taken that roofie last night." I hear ya, kid.
This past month has been crazy in general and not just because it was "Baby's First Christmas". Mainly because your father and I decided that we were going to take two weeks off of work and-during that very, very, VERY short two weeks-we would take a week long trip to Florida with a six-month-old, celebrate THREE family Christmases and move. Yes, we were obviously feeling a little grandiose-and that is only one part of your parent's shared mental illnesses. That decision only capped off a year where we got married, had you, and changed jobs. What are we, CRAZY? I'll tell you what we are...TIRED.
You're about the only reason we haven't collapsed. And that's only because you demand it. That and you're so damn cute its hard not staying awake just to stare at you.
Just this morning you woke up at 7am (like usual) and you quietly played and kicked me in the stomach accepting a paci (officially known as a 'fighter' in this house) until 8:45am when you decided it was high time for us to get up and feed you. Then you wailed in an octave only dogs can hear and the day began. We then got up and gave you a "Ba Ba Jones". Your father coined that term and I can only suppose the reasoning behind it being something like those bottles are so important to you that they obviously deserved a formal surname. I would have gone with "Ba Ba Wellington"-or something of that nature-seeing as how they are so expensive, named after a doctor, and contain a forumla so costly it beats my weekly wine and gin intake. Wellington is much better suited for a bottle of that nature-but I digress. We then take you to your room, change your "booty cover" (Mama coined that one...I think the reason why is pretty obvious), and try to find some clothing not crusted with sweet potatoes and the sweat of a thousand tiny baby pores. We then attempt to entertain you for approximately twelve hours until its time for you to go back to sleep.
All of these very simple things are contained in a pretty typical morning around here unless its one of those days when your father and I obviously prayed, held our mouth right, and garnered favor with The Gods when you sleep until 8:30am and we can actually get up and bathe before you awaken and began summoning the neighborhood dogs.
All in all, the three of us have found a comfortable routine to this new life. It amazes me every day how much you are growing and how quickly it is happening and how much that breaks my heart-even when you are wailing.
I probably shouldn't tell you that we lovingly refer to you as "The Kracken" at times.
One day you will get that and think its funny. I promise.
This is you when you discovered you could sit up on your hands.
This is what your father does in his spare time at work.
.jpg)
We can only explain your fascination with shells and cheese as it being a hold over from my pregnancy when about 90% of your nutrition came from the box of shells and cheese I ate 5 out of 7 nights every week. We also don't feed you a lot and encourage you to play with plastic bags and electrical outlets.
You absolutely ADORE sweet potatoes. I feed them to you almost every night. CORRECTION: I smear them on your face. Then you laugh.
Love you Tootle Bug,
Mama
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