Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Follow the sleepy brick road

Tom had his first breath of fresh air today. After the nasty little diaper bombs he has been letting loose in the house, the walk outside was more for Papa than him. The first time the wind hit his face was a memory all on its own. It was a mixture of confusion, fear and pleasure all wrapped up into one toothless grin.

This morning, I dropped the pacifier on the carpet. I picked it up well within the 10 second rule, but when I tried giving it back to Tom, Angie cast me the 'stupid look' that reminded me of the time I asked a Chinese girl how many siblings she had.

I mean, come on. A newborn baby's immune system can resist a nuclear attack. So why is it that our other two boys could drop mashed potatoes in a sandbox and still get a hygienic green light from Mama to brush it off and chow down?

I know you are dying to hear my theory, and I am not about to disappoint my two readers. It has absolutely nothing to do with the dirty floor. It has to do with the fact that every mother is just as paranoid as Angie is with their precious little poop-sack. If they sold tiny corks for the ears, nose and mouth and then marketed this as being safer for the baby, Angie would overlook the whole 'not being able to breathe' downside and add that to the list of bubble-wrap, baby helmets and knee pads that will certainly become absolutely urgent to buy in the next day or so.

Angie's motherly instincts kicked in again while I was getting Peter dressed for kindergarten in what I would call 'backseat dressing'. Angie was busy feeding The Mouth, so she could not dress Peter herself. Despite somehow managing to clothe our kids for almost a week while she was in Club Med-ical, she still felt the need to tell me how to do everything.

'You need to tuck his shirt in' is great advice - just not as I am pulling the shirt over his head.

'He needs a belt'
is another great tip, but if I have not even put on his pants yet, at least let me get to the point where your help might be needed.

'Don't forget to brush his teeth'. Ok, this was getting ridiculous. I tried to preempt the harping, I mean, suggestions, by announcing that 'yes, I will be putting on the socks before the shoes and no, I will not dry him off in the microwave'. I make me laugh all the time, but other than that, this family obviously has no sense of humor.

Tom has a little skin problem, which is a fancy way of stating that the little frog has zits all over his face and his skin is peeling. He looks like a sun burnt zombie with a bad case of acne. But in a cute way, of course.

Peter informed me today that his bones are shrinking, so he can't walk and he now needs to be carried everywhere. Ok, you lose one point for being a lazy-ass, but I'll give you two points for creativity. I can't wait to hear his versions of 'my dog ate my homework'.

Peter and David went to Meyssam's birthday party today. Unfortunately we didn't get the official invitation in time, which apparently explained that the kids should dress up as pirates. Peter quickly forgot this small point as soon as the party began. Mariam packed the hours with games, cake and a treasure hunt that Peter talked about for the rest of the evening. Happy Birthday, Captain Meyssam!

Tonight we had the kids all in bed and asleep before midnight. Yeah, those parenthood books really paid off. We decided to finally open the bottle of champagne we had in the fridge to celebrate Tom's escape from the womb. As Angie took a sip of her first alcohol in over nine months, a mixture of confusion, fear and pleasure transformed into a grin, which thankfully is still toothful.
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When we found the treasure by Meyssam's birthday.
David: When I read Captain Hook.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I wasn't the one to find the treasure.
David: When Christoph bite me and I cry.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: When I'm big to be Spiderman.
David: When we have fun with you and me.

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