Vile Understatements

So, AnnaKate brought me the Anne Lamott book, “Operating Instructions,” and I am relieved to find another woman who feels the same way about having sons…even if it was nearly 20 years ago.  I find myself thinking how ironic it is that I have two of the very same creatures that have given me so much trouble all my life, and feel a huge responsibility to make sure that they are raised to be a better breed.  Also, if an ex-drug addict can raise one child on her own, I can certainly raise two with the help of family that I can run to when I have my little freak-outs.  You know, the kind where every breath is a sign that something is wrong or one or both are seriously compromised in some way or other.  I have been awake for a 2-month long day, or so it feels, and now the Grandman, Nanno, AKA, Bob Solwinsky, knows all too well what that means.  He arrived a week after Nanna left, and her month long stay seems so much shorter than his 2-week one ….no offense, Bob (pictured below).

I can do this, right?  Check out our “Chub-scout” (Liam) on the left!  Where did that eater come from?  That little chunck is even bigger since this was taken two weeks ago.  Oh, and Finn (right) and his tricky tummy have taught me that exorcist-like projectile vomiting is not solely relegated to sci-fi/horror voodoo stuff.

At least I don’t tell people that I am taking them to the vet’s, instead of the pediatrician’s, anymore.   

The miracle that I thought was the Peepee teepee is a farce.  Who would have thought that the force of an infant boy’s urine could entertain not them but all bystanders as well.  Yes, the Peepee teepee turns into a peepee rocket…and becomes much more effective in illiciting giggles than it is in keeping anyone or anything from being spray-ed.

This is our calm one.  A quick note:  I have discovered that Miro is a great baby quieter for our grumpy one, and this one marvels at Miro’s works too.