Fatty fatty two by four, at an impressive nine pounds, arrived last week.
Hey old lady,
I believe there are laws to protect me from you posting pictures of me naked without my consent.
Brody Michael was scheduled to arrive Thursday but was unwilling to wait that long. This was Annie's third c-section, and based on that giant cranium, it's probably just as well. He was born last Tuesday as I was driving the three hours to get here. The family recently bought a house and just got the keys--they've been able to take over most of the boxes Annie packed and all the yard/garage stuff, but the nitty gritty items like silverware and underpants should go tomorrow (maybe, or maybe not. Things are a little uncertain around here.) I've been trying to stay on top of the wave and be helpful, and although logically I am, I'm a little discouraged about the whole project. I think everyone just wants to BE MOVED ALREADY. You know the feeling. So I cook, clean, and chase
Curious George Noah as he escapes out the gate, out the front and back doors, turns on the hoses and sprinklers, snatches everything off the counters, climbs in the oven, refrigerator and dishwasher, dashes into Mama's room and gets into her makeup, sneaks into the garage and throws all my clothes out of my suitcase, climbs onto the dryer, jumps into any unlocked car and honks the horn and turns every knob and locks the doors, and on and on all the livelong day. Add one slightly bored and jealous older brother and it multiplies by five.
Yo Grambob, you'd better come in here real quick.
I'm currently laundering the Snuggy (Noah's special blanket) for the third time since I've been here, so things are a bit tense. He dumps his sippy cup on it for his own reasons (bored, angry, or just to hear me yelp.) I love these little lambs more than I can explain, but this is harder than it was when their Mama was small. I'm sure it's no picnic for them right now, either.
So you people just wake me when we get there. Or actually--I'll wake YOU.
July 10, 2012
July 10, 2012