Cowboys Fans!

I realize by creating this entry, I may lose one or two of you, which at this point is roughly a 90% loss of readership. It's a risk I have to take ya'll.

We are Dallas Cowboys FANS. That's right. All caps, all business.

Feast your eyes on my tiny team players.
Note that PD always wears Cowboys blue, none of this pink bullshit I see rolling around the mall. Also note her giant bow.

Little E's outfit was created by a great friend of mine whose handiwork you can see over at http://punkyprissdesigns.com/

The outfit is sort of my favorite thing ever. I'm in awe of anyone with any sort of talent.

Anywho, I'll be a pumpin and a dumpin this evening as the Cowboys slaughter the Skins.

Happy Football Season!

Little E is 7 Weeks Old

He is cute from every angle and you cannot force me to choose just one.

Hey, look! Potato Dog has a face!!

When I asked her earlier today why she had wrapped her hair around a lollipop, she said, "Because I.... I'm hideous!!".

I beg to differ, and here is my evidence:

Couple of things

I've spent a lot of time reflecting on life and motherhood in these past few weeks and I have a few thoughts I figured I'd share. At least one of them will probably change your life. Maybe not.

1. Trying to invent a device that electrocutes your husband’s penis when your child cries and he sleeps through it, is an OK way to spend the time you’re up in the middle of the night feeding the baby. Normal thing to think about, really.

2. I don’t care if your kid sleeps in a drop-side crib in East Detroit and the only sling you own is from when you broke your arm freestyle walking. If you have ever taken a dump with a 42lb toddler on your lap or while nursing an infant, you are practicing Attachment Parenting. You’re disgusting, but totally AP.

3. If you have more than one kid, the older one(s) really has you by the nuts when you’re nursing the other one. I find this to be especially true during the first feed of the morning when you are exhausted and half naked. You’re basically helpless and that means your oldster can do things like:

• Shove a jar of caterpillars in your face while jumping on the bed (this is as upsetting as it sounds and, PS, what kind of an effing idiot buys their kid a butterfly hatching kit??? This guy, that's who.)
• Run into the backyard completely nude under the guise of letting out the dogs
• Wipe cheeto dust (probably the organic sort of breakfast cheetos you just haven’t heard of yet, back up off me) on your pumping bra while trying it on and insisting that she too has milk in her boobs 

The point of all this is, absolutely nothing. But, this is sort of where I dump my extra thoughts. Sooner or later I am bound to say something really profound, so sit tight for that.

Mom kept me alive for 6 whole weeks!

PD shuns the limelight

Just in case the girl baby ever stumbles on my little piece of internet immortality, I wanted her to understand why there *may* be more pictures of Little E.

Exhibit A:

This is by far the best shot I got of her before embarking on her first day of Pre-K.

This picture, I freaking love. So dejected. Off to her public hanging fun filled day of love, laughter, and learning.

I was permitted to take this picture, though, so really I shouldn't get to complain about anything ever again.

One more for the road.

Sidebar: Dad Dad, my father, has orange hair because he lost a bet. 

Sidebar 2: Yeah, the little one is dressed is a football. He lost a bet too. Back off haters.

Little E's first bath

On this, the fifth week anniversary of Little E's birth, he had his first bath. It's tradition in our family to wait until the child is 35 days old to bathe them. Or it's because his cord stump didn't fall off until he was 30 days old and I've been busy since then, take your pick.

He started off very chill and zen about the whole thing.

PD wanted in on the action and stepped in for the assist, much to E's chagrin.

"I will not stand for this, do you hear me??"

And then it was over, and all was set right.

How is it possible for someone to be this freaking cute??? I cannot stand the sight of him he is so cute!! I'll try to pull myself together, but come on!

Look at this kid. Once he gets rid of that cradle cap and regrows his leetle hairsies, he's gonna take over the world.

<3





If you begin your day with the smell of coffee, count your blessings.

It’s a cliché as old as motherhood. If it’s too quiet, something rotten is happening with your kids. But, as all moms know, sometimes it is tempting to use that brief window of time to throw in a load of laundry, wash some bottles, pay a few bills, or maybe just pop some more of your root canal medicine and text message your best friend while squeezing in a quick round of Word Feud.

In any event, ignoring the silence means you’ll live to regret it.

I know I was filled with regret when PD came into my room and shoved a finger full of feces in my face (say that three times fast). Luckily, she had the foresight to wrap a flushable toddler wipe around the damage. So proud of my little shit smelling genius.

She’s still learning the finer points of wiping. That coupled with her proclivity for secret ninja dumps means we have had a few incidents.

Fortunately the carpet in her room is indoor/outdoor.

Everybody loves a good dance sequence

PD and Little E gettin D-O-W-N.

My baby loves me and I am digging it.

Little E loves me. Like seriously adores me and lights up like a Parliament when I walk in the room. Cooing, smiling, the whole shebang.

You're probably thinking, "BFD, Jessi. You're his mom and he feeds off your sad, deflated milk bags. All babies love their moms."

And that is where you are wrong, slick.

Potato Dog was not a fan at all. She and I are buds now, but for years it was like she only let me in her mean little baby sorority because I was a legacy. I cried real tears about it, ya'll.

There is really no point to this, other than the fact that I enjoy discussing it, and it irks my mom that she isn't his favorite. PD is pretty into my mom.

This little man is mine, all mine.
And here is a picture I took, whilst lighting up his life.

Little E is one month old today

Meet Little E

This is my boy baby. He's new.

He spends most of his time making a sort of unsettling grunting noise.

But, he seems to prefer me over all other people and hey, that’s a trait I like in a person.



Meet Potato Dog

This is my baby. Well she's my oldest, but she's my girl baby.

I freed a press-on earring from the depths of her nasal cavity just last night. She is, in a word, really rad and awesome. And three. And a quarter. Probably pertinent information.

Well, here we are.

Well, here I am anyway. I haven't decided yet whether I will share this with anyone or just keep er' to myself.

I already have a blog, sort of. It's really just pictures of my oldest kid and I haven't updated it in about 11 months. Hold judgment. I was pregnant for 9 of those months, during which, I quit my job, we rented out our house and moved 250 miles south, and we've been living with my parents since the end of April. Did I mention it was a complicated, "high-risk" pregnancy? So, nothing new to report, see?

In any event, I just had a baby, Little E. He and his sister (I think she calls herself Potato Dog these days) are awesome and do many entertaining and often awe-inspiring things and I felt it should all be documented. I keep losing the journals that I buy for said documentation and when I find them, they are covered in crayon and other substances.

The main thing is that I want to remember all the hilarious and endearing things that Potato Dog (PD for short) and Little E do.

Just this morning, as I was changing the baby, PD was rifling through the diaper bag. I turned to get a finger full of diaper cream and faster than you could say, "SONOFABITCH that was fast!!", PD had the Mylicon dropper in Little E's mouth, dispensing the gas relief that she felt he needed.

I think I'll want to remember that sort of thing. If for no other reason than to remember to lock up the meds.