They're BAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAACK

The boys came home on Monday.  YAY!!!!!

This means that they got to meet Jamie.

Ethan and Jamie

Elijah and Jamie

Funny story:  on Monday, Jon posted a link to a video on Facebook that featured teenage boys dressed as "superheroes" launching aerial fireworks at each other and attempting to block them with cardboard "shields."  Idiots.  Anyhoo, Jon thought it was funny and showed it to me...with Ethan watching over my shoulder.  Ethan, Mr. Prepubescent Low Wisdom Score...who thought shooting fireworks at other people was The.  Best.  Idea.  Ever.  Ladies and gentlemen, if Ethan and/or his friends end up in the ER with injuries from aerial fireworks...I BLAME THIS DAY.  And Jon.  (April and Josh, please let your children continue to play with ours.  We promise to watch them closely.)

Tuesday morning, I/we unpacked their luggage.  Yes, there was the obligatory dirty and wet clothing (one day, I will not call Jon to rant whilst unpacking the boys' luggage), but there was also...a dead animal.

One of these things has no business going through airport security, especially since I had to throw away my menacing bottle of AquaFina and watch them do extensive chemical tests (complete with some kind of dip stick) on Gabriel's formula.  There is no justice.

Hint:  it's the brown one, and it still had "hairs."  I had no idea that sand dollars need styling product.  Regardless, I got to unpack the marine version of a corpse because, you see, sand dollars aren't pristine white until...well, until the flesh has completely decomposed and they dry out.  Until then, they smell.  Really bad.  And are surprisingly flexible.  And unsurprisingly gross.  Moving on.

Wednesday was Elijah's first day of TACKLE football.

See the kid in front of the coach in the white shirt?  Number 21?  He's huge, so obviously he was put on the defensive line, where he repeatedly pushed his opponent down the field at his leisure.  It was like watching the scene from the Blindside when Michael drove that obnoxious kid clear down the field and over the fence. I'm glad he's on Elijah's team for obvious reasons. 

On Thursday, we registered Ethan for middle school.  Overall, it wasn't a negative experience...until we got to his locker.  Those lockers were HUGE, as they are intended to be shared by two students and have to accommodate two students' worth of Hoth Winter Gear.  I felt like the worst parent ever, because my knee jerk reaction to seeing those lockers was...great.  Nelson the bully won't even have to exert himself to shove Ethan in that sucker.  Then, being the twisted family that we are, we decided that if ANYONE is going to shove Ethan into a locker, it's going to be US.

Heartless Gabriel, slamming the door.

And, if we're going to scar one boy, we might as well finish the job and warp the other two:

On the Jamie front, Thursday marked Jamie's one month birthday.  To celebrate, I took another picture to give all y'all a sense of perspective:

She may still be in newborn clothes, but she's grown quite a bit.  See?

Nutella doesn't lie.  Plus, you can see how much taller she is in comparison to the background pattern.  I'm telling you, she was a MUNCHKIN when she was born. 

And, last but CERTAINLY not least, I've tried to work the following picture in for the last three posts, but it just hasn't worked out.  So, to get it out of my system, here you go:

Really, there was a reason.  I just couldn't get into the groove to finish the posts.

Enjoy.

Music 101

I recently decided that I need to expose Gabriel to more music that is toddler-appropriate.  This may or may not be a result of the "sexyback" hat incident.  But it was DEFINITELY reinforced when I finally "listened" to the lyrics to that one Eminem song, which is NOT appropriate for ME, let alone the innocent toddler.

So, in an attempt to be a decent mom, I went to the Cheesy Kids' Music section at the local Shop O Rama and chose a CD that I thought could meet both of our needs:  my need to not slam my head in a door whilst listening to it,  Gabriel's need to get his groove on, and my newly recognized need to not corrupt my toddler.  It was an...

EPIC FAIL.

It did not meet ANY of those needs.  It did, however, meet my need to laugh riotously and make other drivers question my sanity as they passed us.

It was an epic fail on two specific levels:

1.  It was massively historically inaccurate, so we could never listen to it with Jon.
2.  It wasn't really any cleaner than the music already on my iPod.

Case in point: unless the wave of Hispanic immigration is farther reaching than I am aware of (and we're talking areas of high population density, not just the occasional outliers), if you wanted to see a senorita with flowers in her hair, I doubt you'd book a flight to Kentucky*. Nevertheless, song fourteen on disc two, "Going to Kentucky," started with the lyrics:

I was going to Kentucky, I was going to the fair.

To see the senorita, with flowers in her hair.

(This is where Jon's head exploded.  We didn't even make it to the cover of Yankee Doodle, which is responsible for children everywhere having bizarre mental images of Mac N Cheese-covered hats.  Or was that just me?)

And then it went downhill.  The next two lines were:

So, shake it, shake it, shake it.  Shake it if you can.

You can shake it like a milkshake and do the best you can.

Which immediately dredged up the following brain worms, which aren't exactly child-friendly, either:

Shake it like a Polaroid picture (Hey Ya, by Outkast)

and 

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard (Milkshake, by some skeezy girl)

 True story that I find hysterical:  when I googled the lyrics to Hey Ya, I got...THIS:

Till' there's nothing at
AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaallllll..
We get together
Ohh, we get together
But seperate's always better when there's feelings
InvooooooOOOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOooooooOOOOOlved

Talk about creative use of upper and lowercase letters to indicate pronunciation.

Where was I?  Totally off topic.  Right. 

I looked at Gabriel in the rearview mirror and--mercifully--the look on his face was just like mine.  Namely, "What the heck are you making me listen to?  Where's the GOOD music? Bring on the Guns N Roses!"

Anyhoo, at this point, we got home, turned on the iHome, and made lunch.  Being selfish, I put on MY music...which happened to be pre-sellout Green Day.  Which, as it turns out, Gabriel LOVES.

And I'm OK with that.

*I've been to Kentucky.  There are very few Hispanics there.  It was the strangest Taco Bell experience this West coast girl has ever had. 

11:28 PM

Keeping the playground safe from hoodlums

I tried to tell him only Dbags wear their hats backwards.  He said, and I quote, "I'm bringing sexyback."  I've GOT to change my playlist to be more toddler appropriate.

Jamie's first bath

I'd write more...but typing with one hand takes FOREVER.

The boys come home Monday...HAPPY DAY!

That is all.

And so, in summary...

Jon doesn't have children.  He has spawn.  I say that with all the love in my heart, because they are my spawn, too...but still.  Spawn.  Spawn that takes over your body, mind, and will, like one of those eels that Khan put in Chekhov's ear in Star Track (Elise!) II.

Body, because...well, I'll spare you the gory lactation details, just in case my in-laws read this.  But pregnancy... really, if the average male saw something writhing in HIS abdomen, they'd leap straight to "spawn," too.  And then promptly go Sigourney Weaver on its butt.

Mind, because...there is a list of stuff that I did NOT like until I was carrying Jon's spawn, but now I can't seem to get enough of it:

1.  Oreos
2.  Pepsi
3.  Guns N Roses

I also acknowledge that vanilla is a flavor (although chocolate is still superior).

Will, because....Gabriel thinks he's some kind of a Jedi.  He's spent the last week working on his already impressive mind trick skillz.  Examples include (but are not limited to):

1.  "You want to make me a bottomless chocolate sippy cup."
2.  "You want to let me have a chocolate chip granola bar for dinner.  And a chocolate sippy cup."
3.  "You don't mind if I play on the computer all day long, with Dinosaur Train playing on the TV in the background.  While I hold this chocolate sippy cup."
4.  "You want to feed me ALL of your bowl of 'I Can't Believe They Aren't Cap'n Crunch Berries.'  You will not take ONE bite.  Now hold my chocolate sippy cup."
5.  "I don't need to sleep.  Ever.  Now give me back my chocolate sippy cup."

He's had limited success.  When it doesn't work...let's just say...Mom, thanks for letting ME live to adulthood.  Overall, mommy/toddler relations in the Alfred household for the week can be summarized thusly:



I'm the guy with a squirrel gnawing on his jugular.  It's probably my fault, though...as you can see in Exhibit A:

The pic isn't blurry...he's vibrating because of the excess Nutella intake.  He's like a junkie waiting for his fix to hit.

But there's more than just a toddler in the house.  What with an infant...strike that...NEWBORN in the house as well, I've had a huge amount of time to entertain myself late at night.  And late at night, let me tell you, two things happen:

1.  My usual high standards for humor drop dramatically.  Napoleon Dynamite is a big hit with me at 2 AM (also at 2 PM, but that's besides the point.  And don't get me started on The Man Who Knew Too Little).
2.  I have a higher tolerance for naughtiness.
3.  I giggle like an idiot, waking Jon up even though we aren't even in the same room.  Jon LOVES 2 AM Meegan.  Loves her, I say!

The newborn is also affecting my ability to count...anyhoo, back on the ranch.  Late night boredom while nursing/keeping the wide-awake newborn company is how I found the squirrel video.


Which somehow led to this:



I'm seriously disturbed that I laughed so hard at lamb...fries.

CHOO CHOO!  The train didn't stop there!

Jen, the beyond awesome Cake Wrecks lady, posted THIS LINK TO MY NEW FAVORITE BLOG on her other blog, Epbot.  Warning:  the Bloggess MOST DEFINITELY doesn't mind using "colorful metaphors," one of  which would usually bug the tar out of me, but somehow...at 2 AM, I couldn't stop laughing.  And then I found the most recent post (HERE) and thought...where WAS this lady when I was younger and looking for ways to entertain myself the LAST time I lived in Hoth?????

And then I got thinking about oldie but goodie videos that I never seem to get tired of watching, which led me to this...



Guns N Roses...I tell ya, it's another Ceti Eel...which led to this...



And so, in summary:


All of this leads me to the inescapable conclusion that the earwig I accidentally sucked out of the "straw" of my hospital sippy cup (which, sadly, NEVER had chocolate milk in it) may have actually been a Ceti Eel.

It's the only thing that makes sense...

11:18 PM

Jamie is starting to come out of the "sleep all the time" stage, moving into the "sleep all day, up all night" stage.  I'll be witty (or more likely, by turns both cranky and slap-happy ) tomorrow.  For now, here's a few pictures that say more than I could...

First, a sense of scale for those of you outside of Logan:

Yes, it only took two pushes to get her here.  I'm not some birthing pro; if I had stood up, she would have fallen out.  She's TINY.  And yes, Nutella is the standard by which all things should be measured (that's a 13 oz jar, btw). 

Here's a more American standard of measurement for those of you unfortunate enough not to be familiar with Nutella (FOOLS!):

In other news, Gabriel is settling into his role as a big brother quite nicely:

How.  Cute.  Is.  That.

Jon's hand was for stability, not to force the shot.  But can we say, "blackmail?"  Awwwww, yeah!

I found the two of them like this during naptime...for someone who was terrified to have a daughter, he seems to be settling in quite nicely, as well.

Time:  11:38 PM.  Jon tags me out at 2 or 3...I think I'll watch some Bones.

Peace.

Warning: word vomit ahead

Things I learned yesterday:

1.  Just because you're married DOESN'T mean your spouse will automatically be told if you are, say, still in seeing your OB/GYN a week and a half before your planned delivery.  Even if he is your listed emergency contact, IHC will refuse to provide him with any information about you...which begs the question: what happens in the case of an emergency, like, say, a car accident?  If he shows up randomly at the ER looking for me, is he out of luck?  Do I rot, unconscious and alone, in a hospital room because I didn't give verbal or written permission for them to talk to him?  My emergency contact?  And speaking of permission, after six years of being treated by IHC facilities and providers, why was YESTERDAY the first time I saw or heard of the form to release information to my husband?  I'm a little irritated. 

2.  When your fetus has an erratic heartbeat during a fetal non stress test, your uber-careful obstetrician will bump your delivery up.  To today/Friday.  You will have to fight to schedule it on Monday, and that will only work when you play the "I need to arrange childcare" card and promise to come in if ANYTHING SEEMS WRONG AT ALL, since he's on call this weekend anyways.  Man, it BITES being in multiple high risk groups.

On the up side, you will have a VERY detailed ultrasound done and will get to see her "breathe."  Also, glare at you in her sleep.  She has a mean glare.  It was awesome, and not just because I got visual confirmation that she is alive and well (she scored high on the biophysical whatever it was), but it was very reassuring to see her diaphragm moving and to be able to count her fingers and toes whilst waiting for her to move them.  In the end, we're going ahead with the early delivery because the paranoid parts of me agree with the doc, and she's probably much better off out of my hostile diabetic womb than inside it, even if it is two weeks early (or four, depending on how you look at it).

At any rate, as most of you know, my scheduled delivery has been bumped from the 25th to the 18th...which is...lemme see...THREE DAYS AWAY.  Mercifully, we are mostly ready, physically at least.  Mentally, probably not so much.  I think my doc takes perverse pleasure in springing things like that on me.  He did it with Gabriel (On a Monday:  "What are you doing Thursday?  How about having this baby?"), and he did it AGAIN with this one, EVEN THOUGH I tried to beat him to the punch and we had already scheduled for the 25th.   And now...my to-do list for this weekend has changed DRAMATICALLY.  I need to...


1.  Clean the fridge for the first time in...a long time...so I can refill it with non-science-experimenty food for us to survive on next week.  Also, so I won't gross out Elizabeth, my SiL, if she ends up saving our bacon because labor goes long and I need someone to stay with Gabriel overnight.  Curse the mirror Alfreds (our Gabriel sitters) for having the audacity to have a life and leave town.  Sheesh.  They totally should have predicted this.  For revenge, on Monday night, I'm eating all the brownies they left out on their counter.  That'll show them! (Just kidding, guys.  I'm not upset.  But I AM going to hose those brownies, and there's nothing you can do about it.  MWAH HA HA HA HA!)



2.  Tease Jon because he nested.  This morning, he set up the bassinet.  And then--I kid you not--he flapped his arms like bird wings as he left the room.

3.  Sleep.

4.  Sleep some more.

Anyhoo, we'll keep you posted.  It's likely that I'll be scheduled for early in the morning because of the whole "medical necessity" thing (finally, a PERK!).  I'm sure there will be texts and facebook posts galore (facepalm!).  Feel free to call...I promise that if it's not a good time, I just won't answer the phone.

ALSO:  now accepting bets as to weight/time of birth.  Winner gets...something cool.  Maybe naming rights? Warning:  if anyone predicts a c-section, I will go crazy on them as only a hormone-controlled pregnant woman can.  You have been warned!

OH!  OH! OH!  For those of you who, like me, get spotty facebook updates, I have to share this with the world:

"Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." -A. Einstein

 Which I realized when I watched one of "my" kids with a massive learning disability scurry up a climbing wall like a lizard, leaving the "genius" kids in the dust.  I love that quote, even if it turns out that it comes from Alicia Einstein, not Albert  Einstein.

When being AWESOME isn't enough

Sometimes you need backup.