Three's not a crowd

Tom, like some leftovers, was only better the second day. The boys thought so, too, as they ogled over their new baby brother. He will certainly grow up well protected with bigger brothers like Peter and David.

Several people have asked about the naming of our latest creature. When criticized, I normally resort to blaming other people and in this case, it was Peter. Tom was the name that Peter started calling the baby from the first day he found out that Angie was pregnant. He also had a middle name selected, which was Jacob. If our last name was Jingle-Heimer-Schmidt, I may have considered this.

The freaky thing is that both names derive from the word 'twin'. Even freakier, Tom was born at 08:36 AM. Peter was born at 08:37 AM. Tom weighed 3,600 grams. Peter weighed 3,610 grams. Tom was 52 cm long. So was Peter, speaking of freaky things.

Tom looks eerily like Peter when he was born, so my theory is that Angie has actually been pregnant for over 4 years. Everyone thought Tom was 11 days overdue, but if I'm right, as I always am as long as you don't ask Angie, Tom has taken a hell of a lot longer than just 9 months.

In the end, we chose the middle name from a short list of Merlin, Finn and Quentin. Quentin means the 5th, and since Tom is the 5th member of the Johnson Zoo, we thought it fit. What's in a name, though? A diaper by any other name would still smell like shit, right?

At least one person has openly stated a preference for Nonameyet, although I am not sure that even Peter and David as big brother protectors could keep a kid from getting his ass kicked in school with a name like Nonameyet. Sorry, CRT.

I try and write these blogs every day and often I hit the 'publish post' button and the story disappears into a black hole. I don't know where it goes or who is reading it; who likes it and who just doesn't have a sense of humor. I don't really mind, though. I started this whole thing so that the boys could have detailed memories when they get older. I may regret some of tales since by then, I will be too old to defend myself against three boys beating the shit out of me for some of the things I wrote.

I get the occasional comment from friends and family that they like the blog, but yesterday I got my first 'real' comment. By real, I mean it did not come from someone who was forced to tell me how great I am in order to continue getting Christmas gifts. It came from a complete stranger and was well received. That's not to say that anyone out there who was about to send pages of praise should stop; December is right around the corner.

I was curious to find out who the mystery commenter was, so I went to her blog site and was blown away by an entire story dedicated to Tom's, uh, sorry, Nonameyeteventhoughhisnameistomsogetoveritalready's entry to jungle Earth. Click here to read the entire article. Thanks, Ceci and yes, you can publish any photos you like.

David apparently did not like all of the attention that he was no longer getting. While we were visiting Tom, he started coughing like crazy and burning up with a fever. I spent the rest of the day taking him to the doctor's and keeping him away from Tom.

At the doctor's, he got gummy bears. When I went to the pharmacy, he got gummy bears. Now, I am no genius - ask Angie - but I seem to remember a little story about a guy named Pavlov and his cat. Maybe it was a dog, but it doesn't matter. The point is, if David gets a treat every time he is sick, I have a sneaking suspicion that he will be perpetually ill for the next several years. If doctors really want to have kids like them, maybe they should just stop shoving big-ass needles into their arms.

At bedtime, David got his medicine and we read stories. Before climbing up his ladder to the top bunk bed, Peter went up and gave David a hug and said 'you're still my little brother and I'm still your big brother'. I don't know where that came from, but it made me want to puke, so it must have been cute.

David must have appreciated this, for he offered Peter his coveted 'bird spider' to sleep with. Peter shook his head politely and said 'no thanks' to the replica spider big enough to eat birds that David likes to sleep with. I don't know if Tom will be a spider man, but with superheroes like Peter and David to protect him, it doesn't really matter.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I was at Mama and of course Tom.
David: When I go to Mama.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David go to the clinic cause he was sick.
David: When I cry because I have angst from the lion.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To play with you and David and Tom and Mama - everyone together who we know to play football.
David: I go in the train mit you.

Thomas Quentin Johnson

Man, babies can be ugly. I am quite certain that women have some hormone released when they give birth that allow them to overlook the blotchy skin, wrinkled heads, purple hands, and all of the disgusting shit that comes out of their tiny bodies shortly after birth. Luckily, our baby was one of the cute ones.

Nonameyet has kept us all in suspense for the past few weeks and his grand exit to planet Earth was certainly no let down. It started this morning with a frantic call from Angie 'you need to get here now! I'm bleeding!' Talk about a wake-up call.

I raced to the car, blew through several red lights and even a few green ones to get to the hospital. Angie was scheduled for a C-section later that morning, but Nonameyet obviously thought it would be more exciting to speed things up a bit by creating a few complications. It was.

I got to the hospital just in time to see Angie getting whisked away to the emergency operating room. I was told I could not go in as planned and that Angie would be going completely under, instead of the local anesthesia we were expecting.

As I paced the hallway outside the operating room, I freaked out on two nurses and a doctor passing by when they asked me if I need anything. Luckily, they followed Angie's approach and just ignored me instead of kicking my ass out.

After fifteen sweaty minutes, Irmgard the nurse (no shit, it really is her name) came out wheeling a cart with an angel in it that turned out to be my son. She asked for a name and Nonameyet finally became Thomas Quentin Johnson. Tom.

He was incredibly peaceful. I would have expected screaming, kicking, farting...something, but he just laid there quietly, trying to open one eye. He does have two, so don't freak out and start calling him cyclops.

The nurse took us downstairs to get Tom cleaned off. As soon as she picked him up, he peed all over her. I like this kid already.

He weighed in at 3,600 grams, or 7 lb, 14 oz for those pathetic countries not using the metric system. There are only three, by the way. Aside from the United States, only Burma and Liberia do NOT use the metric system. Get with the freakin' program, guys!

Angie's drugs finally wore off and she woke up asking for me. Kinda. She was actually asking for Tom, but he was with me, so it is essentially the same thing. I went to the 'wake up room' and found a very groggy but very relieved Angie. Her arms were outstretched so I assumed she wanted a hug. Turns out, she wanted to hold the baby. Whatever. I didn't want a hug anyway.

The rest of the day went by in a flurry of phone calls, visits and diapers. In the afternoon, the boys came to meet their NEW BROTHER. They were impressed.

David kept running up to everyone and proudly telling them that he was now a BIG BROTHER. Peter is his idol, so this title is quite an impressive one. Peter could hardly contain himself when I allowed him to hold Tom in his lap. He rubbed Tom's cheeks and stroked his hair until he was glowing. Peter, not Tom.

As I tucked Peter and David in to bed, I thought of how fast time has flown with both of them. If day one of Tom's life is any indication of how fast time will fly with him, I need to figure out some way to slow that shit down. I also tried to remember when Peter and David were tiny ugly babies but I simply couldn't. I guess they were cute ones as well.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I saw Tom, the little baby who is my brother now.
David: When Tom come out the Mama's belly.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David screamed his head off.
David: When I see Mama and Mama sick.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: When the kindergarten finished, I want to go visit Mama and Tom, who is my brother now.
David: When Mama and the belly I see.

A view from a grill

I was busing grilling some kick-ass steaks and shrimp-kabobs to feed the hungry animals lurking inside, so I'm not sure who the perv is taking pictures.

Luckily, coloring books and crayons seem to make the caged creatures appreciate feeding time. As the hand that feeds them, I should be able to write whatever the hell I want without fears that they might bite me. Angie knows how to work the microwave, though, so I will try to be careful not to anger any pregnafied readers.

Today I decided to 'bully the belly'. This technique basically boils down to getting on all fours and screaming at Angie's belly for several hours, daring Nonameyet to show his face if he's not a coward. Instead, he chose to mock me by hiding behind Angie's inny and throwing a kicking fit like a big baby. I lost it and wanted to kick back but Angie stopped me with complaints like 'it'll hurt' and 'I'm not a pinata'.

Ok, fine, but Nonameyet and I will be having a LONG talk when he feels brave enough to show his smug little face. At that point, I will become the hand that feeds him and we shall see if he changes his tune. Probably not at first, since the hand that feeds him will actually be the booby that feeds him, but one day - oh yes, my friend - one day he will salivate over my grilled shrimp kabobs and wonder if it was really wise to keep us all waiting in suspense for so long.
--------------------------------------------
Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played with Dalia to play 'Happy Birthday to You'
David: When Dalia come.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When David take the crocodile game and I start crying.
David: When Gizma scratch me all over and I start crying.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: To sleep by Dalia.
David: I want Little Einstein's