Friday, December 26, 2014

Another Christmas in the Books

This year's Christmas was a little more low-key than in the past. Maybe it was the nice weather (sunny and 60 degrees) as opposed to the snow and ice that came through last year. We had a modest Christmas for our family but we still ended up coming home with a car trunk full of stuff to step on.

The Wifey has finally gotten better from the flu so the house is a little more cheery. For awhile it was just a house full of dreariness with the Monster crying because she's been holed in the house and Pillow always needing her attention. She probably would have gotten better faster if the Wifey was able to get some rest but she had to take care of Pillow while I was at work.

Here is the official Northpark picture:

We have a lot of goals for the New Year but the main one is to get our damn house clean. We say it every year but this is the year. In fact, 2015 is going to be our best year.

Monday, December 8, 2014

It's Getting Fun

We're only a few days away from Pillow turning six months and now she's getting fun. She's beginning to laugh out loud and blabbering non-stop. She still has sleep issues and teething is probably happening but the interaction is approving. Overall she's a really happy baby.

We've also noticed how much Pillow loves to eat. The Wifey made the decision to start Pillow her baby-led weaning. We're slowly introducing new items but making sure it's manageable. Pillow will freak out when she doesn't have something in her hands to shove in her mouth. We've started on small stuff like avocado and bananas and the occasional bread. Her grandmother has been feeding her scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes.

This past week we ventured out to NorthPark to get some pictures with Santa. We went midweek to avoid the line. We arrived at NorthPark at 930am and received our number: 47. 46 people came up to NorthPark before 930am to get a number only to come back at 11am when pictures would start. The good thing about getting a number is you're allowed to come back at anytime and essentially "skip" the line. Just don't lose your number. The Wifey has pretty much lost the ticket every year so I decided to be the holder of the number.

We didn't get around to taking the Santa pictures until about 2pm that day; this was after we went to the Perot Museum. By then, the Monster was done for the day and refused to cooperate. She could be a stubborn B sometimes.

We are just now getting our mind right for Christmas.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

The 7pm Crazies

Every night, at 7pm, the Monster begins her transformation. She's usually a sweet girl who is eager to tell us about her day, spends time drawing pictures and working on her alphabet, maybe even quietly watches television as she snacks. But then as soon the clock strikes 7pm, something switches and she becomes the biggest pain ever. It's like Cinderella but totally opposite.

The Monster will just start running crazy through house, jumping and doing backflips off the couches. It's like our living room suddenly turned into a parkour course. She will strip down and throw her toys everywhere, make it rain with her bowl of rice. I don't know what happens but she just starts going crazy. It's like all her energy is built up for that one very moment and it becomes unleashed on everyone in the house.

The Wifey has started incorporating Kid's Yoga before she goes to bed and it seems to work for the most part. But going to bed is still a pain as the Monster still finds a way to annoy the hell out of us.

But despite all her craziness she's still just a kid. I have now mentally prepared myself when the clock gets closer to 7pm.

Friday, November 14, 2014

My Struggle So Far

I get asked a lot how life is with two kids and I usually give the generic, "it's about the same" response.

And I guess for dad's who are about to get another addition to the family, it doesn't help. I want to tell you that your routines will change, you'll be needed even more than the first time, your plate becomes that much more full.

But for me, it doesn't. And maybe it's just me and my situation and it's just this point in my life and in everyone's life that makes my experience with the second child that much more difficult.

It's nothing against Pillow; I adore her and love her and she really brings a smile to my face every time she smiles back. She may cry but that brief 30 seconds where she is too tired to scream again and she just rests her head on my chest makes it all worthwhile. Or at least until she gets her 2nd, 3rd, and 4th wind.

But my struggle with this second child is the fact that I feel incredibly alone. It's a battle for attention from the Wifey and I am competing against two other people. One who is literally attached to her and the other one who has mastered the four year old tantrum.

I hang out with the Monster and we interact by taking turns playing video games or me teaching her how to punch, just in case if there are other threatening four year old boys. But as soon as the Wifey gets home, the Monster quickly makes me aware that she's bored of me.

And from that moment going forward I'm a loner. A lot of it is just me not speaking up and communicating my feelings but as soon as the Wifey gets home she's off to feeding Pillow. And then it's listening to the Monster talk about her day and everything she can think of. Then it's dinner and catching up on shows and on each other's day. That's it. She used to come home and immediately and give me a kiss and a hug but now that time is filled with kicking off her boots and fighting off the Monster. Sometimes I can manage to sneak in a kiss when she's washing the baby bottles and an affectionate hug until the Monster comes running and screaming "oooh family hug!"

It doesn't help the situation that we also are sharing our bed with everyone. The Monster won't sleep in her room and rather than put up a fight every night, we've just given up. And Pillow sleeps a little better if she's being cuddled and at this point, I am all for anything to get the Wifey a few extra minutes of sleep here and there.

I guess I just miss my wife and a sense of affection/attention. And that's why communication is even more important with more kids in the house. That's my struggle so far and I know eventually it will pass but right now all I can do is just sit on my side of the couch.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

An Overdue Update

I guess it's been awhile.

Pillow is fast approaching 5 months old. She's definitely not the same as the Monster (my nickname for Baby) but I guess it could be that my memory might be skewed. It seems Pillow is always crying or being fussy around me. I've mentioned a few times how she doesn't really like me. It's like she heard all the crazy things I said in the womb and is holding a grudge against me. Monster is a four year old. Sassy, rude, and the best big sister ever. It really freaks me out how much she helps with Pillow - how she will give Pillow her pacifier if she starts crying or she'll put a blanket over her if she things she might be too cold. Or the countless reminders that she's probably hungry or needs a diaper change.

But through all my frustrations with a newborn who won't stop crying if I come even close to her and a four year old who will snap back with "don't argue with me" replies, I am still incredibly grateful for the Wifey. She hasn't once complained about my incredible ability to sleep through anything while Pillow is screaming in the middle of the night. She operates on only stretches of sleep, an hour and half here and there throughout the night. And then her alarm will go off and she will help me get Monster ready for daycare.

I've been trying to help around when and where I can. Making dinner, cleaning the house, and just making sure she is relaxed as possible. I hope she understands how truly grateful we are as a family to have her around. All I know is if she wasn't around, there would be a crying baby and a little kid wearing shirts inside out to hide the stains.

But I know everyone comes for the pictures, so here are some from the camera roll.


Thursday, August 21, 2014

So It Ends

The Wifey heads back to work next week after taking her maternity leave. I was happy that she got to spend time with Pillow and was really ecstatic she didn't have to deal with her stress at work. This time around things are drastically different since Baby was born. We no longer have an awesome live-in nanny, I no longer "work from home, and now we have second, much louder mouth in the house.

Baby will continue to go to her in-home daycare but Pillow is going to hang our with her Nana until she gets a little older. It helps us save a little more money (since daycare in general is expensive) but it also lets Pillow develop her immune system. Baby didn't start going to daycare until she was a lot older and we were lucky to avoid most of the daycare illnesses like ear infections.

It's situations like daycare that I wish I made more money so the Wifey could be a stay at home mom. Things would be a lot easier not having to worry who can get off in time or who can stay home when someone is sick. I just remember when my mom would watch my sister's kids while she worked and just how much easier it was for my sister and her family.

Anyways, Baby really loves her baby sister. She never hesitates to give her a hug or talk to her; it's really not what we expected at all. One of the things we tried to instill with Baby was a sense of independence and to some degree that has backfired on us. Baby finds it necessary to take it to her own hands to change the diaper or burp Pillow. That sounds awesome but she can barely pick her up. I just worry that Pillow will end up getting dropped on her head.

We think the Baby enjoys her sister so much is because she actually has a real life baby doll to nurture. Baby has been pushing around a stroller with a baby doll in it everywhere and we'll even catch her putting on her doll's clothes on Pillow. It's a little annoying but it's much better than us catching her stuffing Pillow into the dryer.




Tuesday, July 29, 2014

A Glimpse Into My Future

I can see this happening in our household. I can see it happening really soon.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Five Weeks Later

It's been five weeks since I got another daughter. Like most newborns, it's been pretty uneventful. All Pillow does is eat, sleep, cry, fart, and spit up. I always ask the Wifey, "when does she start getting fun?" She is now finally getting more cognizant of how hilarious I am and beginning to smile.

Not to brag but I seem to be better at getting Pillow to sleep. The Wifey blames her boobs. It makes sense, who wants to sleep in their plate of food? Now that I think about it, who wouldn't want to sleep in a plate of food? I have a trick that seems to work to get Pillow to fall asleep. I lie her head down on my chest. That's it. Out like a light. But sometimes that doesn't work and Pillow seems to fall asleep really quickly if I play Sam Smith's album "In the Lonely Hour" on my iPhone and tuck it between our bodies.

Now the big question I get is, "how is the big sister handling it?" Amazingly, really well. We really didn't expect her to be so accommodating. She will make sure she hugs and kisses Pillow multiple times throughout the day. She will throw away diapers without asking, she very loudly alerts us when Pillow spits up by screaming, "EWWWWWWWW, she spit up...AGAIN!" She checks her diaper and will remind us that she's either crying because she's hungry or her diaper is full.

But she's also very sensitive about being corrected when she grabs Pillow's head or hugs her too tight. If you correct her, even very politely, she will run to her room and shut her door. I guess she's being protective and just wants to help.

Either way, we are impressed with the way she's been acting. She even took the initiative to sleep in her own bed. She still has her moments but we've gotten better at ignoring them.

Thursday, June 12, 2014

The Name Game

The biggest thing the Wifey and I did that pissed off a lot of people was to not find out the gender. Well, pissed off is a pretty strong word, I would say it frustrated a lot of people. The second most frustrating thing was to not share the names for either scenario.

I've always felt that names should have some sort of significance besides, "it sounds pretty." Or to randomly pick a name off a website or take a very nice name and butchering it with added and random letters. But to each their own. The reason I got my name was because the original name wasn't liked by the nurses. My mom was a huge Michael Jackson fan and also a Charlie Daniels fan  (she loved country). Since English was her second language, she found no issue with the name Jack Daniels. The nurses felt that name would destine me to become an alcoholic. She then decided Jackson would suffice. Anyways, here are the names:

Penny Lea.

Penny is the Wifey's grandmother's nickname growing up. Based on the story told by the Wifey's mom, as remembered by me, even though I wasn't paying attention, was that the grandmother was a waitress and she used to carry pockets full of change. The local neighborhood children would run up to her and she would throw pennies at them to keep them away from her or something like that. We've also felt Penny was an appropriate name because one of our favorite artists, Rhett Miller, is the lead singer of one of my favorite bands, Old 97's. In one of their songs, 'Rollerskate Skinny' (which is named after a line from J.D. Salinger's 'Catcher in the Rye, a favorite of every boy in the world) Rhett sings, "you're pretty as a penny..." So Penny was the chosen name

The middle name, Lea (pronounced lee), is actually the middle name of the Wifey's best friend. It was the best way for us to show her how important she has been in our lives.

Since we plan on no longer gracing the planet with another adorable baby, we found okay to share our choice for a boy name.

Rhett Allen.

It was hard to come up with a boy name with considerable significance. If I named our next boy after one of my best friends, it would have a horrible nickname because I still refer to my most of my friends by their college nicknames. Dogballs or Nuttin' Bitch probably wouldn't get them a decent job. Or names like Hutch or Fowler or Mr. Smith would be kind of weird as first name. So we felt the name Rhett would be the most appropriate. The middle name pays tribute to the Wifey's best friend but I was partial to having Lea as the middle name - but the Wifey felt that would be too feminine of a name. Plus Rhett Lea sounds delightfully white trash.

But those are the names and I think we did good. Our newest daughter really is pretty as a penny.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

There's No Going Back

The Wifestradamus told me before I went to bed, "hey, I really think I am going to have this baby at 3AM. So I'll wake you up at that time." Then at 3AM she jolts me from my golden slumber and in a panic state, says, "I think my water broke."

Now, I guess I didn't initially believe her so I just thought it was a dream and casually flopped out of bed to grab a towel. And for some odd reason I looked at our linen closet and thought to myself, "hmm, which towel would be the best for water breakage?"

The Wifey contemplated going immediately to the hospital because she didn't want to risk the disappointment of driving all that way, in that much pain, and being told she hadn't dilated any. So she called her doctor and the doctor confirmed that she needed to get her ass to the hospital.

While this was going on - I didn't feel there was any real urgency - so I figured I would grab a quick shower, put up my laundry, and send some work emails. The delivery with the first baby took about four hours so I thought I had plenty of time. Meanwhile, the Baby decided to wake up with us and rather than just sleep through it all she decided that at 3:30 AM would be the most ideal time to start belting songs from Frozen.

The pain from the contractions had finally set in for the Wifey and just like the first pregnancy, all I could hear was "mother f!" She also hates any noise because that distracts her from focusing on not focusing the pain. I don't understand but as I was mentally going over the hospital bag checklist, I quietly mumbled to myself and was met with a loud and bitchy, "SHHH BE QUIET".

So barely an hour later, we were off to drop off the Baby at her grandmother's house in order to meet Pillow. The grandmother only lives two blocks away so it's not a far drive but the Wifey felt that she could not sit down at all. So she sat in the passenger seat, on her knees. Now, being the safe driver that I am, realized that not only was sitting with your butt facing the windshield unsafe, it is completely illegal. But the Wifey would not budge. In her words, "there is no way hell I am sitting down."

I drove two blocks with a backwards, unbuckled pregnant woman in my front seat.

Considering the hospital is a good 20 minute highway drive, I was able to convince the Wifey to at least lay on her side and buckle up. I made a quick call to her best friend to let her know what was going on and off we were to the hospital.

I turned on the radio, despite the no noise policy, and the first song to come on was Katy Perry's 'Dark Horse'. I just thought this song was funny because one of the lyrics is "there's no going back." And in our situation, there's no going back. This new baby was coming out. I kept on singing and emphasizing that lyric. But the Wifey didn't find it amusing as I did and shut me down.

We pulled into the hospital at about 4:30. The Wifey said she couldn't walk and she also said was going to get an epidural. I wasn't really paying attention, I was off to find a wheelchair. I wasn't able to find one as quickly as I had hoped so I headed back to the car to walk her in. But here she comes waddling in and she doesn't even make eye contact with me. She disgustedly tells me, "don't even worry about it."

We start the check in process and the nurse takes the Wifey to the room. I was parked in a 30 minutes or less spot so I needed to move the car. Not wanting to be a jerk husband, I asked her if it was okay, in which she responded, "do whatever you need to do." I came back and the Wifey was standing next to the bed as the nurse was trying her hardest to get her to climb into the bed.

When you're in that much pain, a lot of common sense seems to disappear. The Wifey was refusing to take off her pants to put on a gown and refusing to get into the bed. The nurse also wanted to put on some monitoring stuff and wait twenty minutes to get vitals. The Wifey was not going to have any of that. This new baby was coming out and coming out soon.

Realizing the speed in which things were developing, the nurse called in her reinforcements and the resident doctor. The Wifey's regular doctor was still on her way.

The Wifey eventually got her pants off and into the bed was refusing to lie on her back. I could see the resident doctor think about her schooling and come up with reasons why she needs to deliver on her back. And as soon as the Wifey turned to her back I could see the color vanish from her face.

Alarms were going off, the on-call doctor was being paged and then the resident knew what was going to happen: she was going to deliver this baby. And in twenty minutes the new baby was out and crying. TWENTY FREAKING MINUTES. It took you more time to read this post than it did for the Wifey to have this kid.

The on-call doctor comes strolling in, still asleep, and asks if anything is going on. As soon as the Wifey's regular doctor showed up, the resident was out the door to handle another call. I think she went to go throw up but either way, she did great.

At 5:05 AM, we were introduced to the newest female of the house, Penny Lea and we are smitten.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The Day has Come and Gone.

The Wifey's doctor, with all her years of schoolin' and practicin', has failed to correctly predict our child's due date. That is two strikes against her.

Pillow was supposed to be squirted out as of yesterday 6/9. The Wifey, using her Ouija board and advanced Sabermetrics, feels that tomorrow, 6/11, is the actual arrival date. So we'll see if Google is a better doctor than our trained professional. In all seriousness, the Wifey has an amazing doctor. She's patient and honest but let's the parents entertain crazy scenarios before squashing it with her incredible knowledge and reassurance. She has great bedside manner (maybe OB/GYNs actually have feelings unlike my old robot of a family doctor, Dr. Allen). Plus her assistant is pretty hot.

Friday morning, I worked from home because the Wifey had an appointment. I had an early meeting and the Wifey was considerate enough to wait until I was finished before she said, "hey, I need to go the doctor now." With the last pregnancy, urgency was never my wife's strong suit. It drives me crazy because I am used to Hollywood depicting when women go into labor. Look Who's Talking, 9 Months, Knocked Up - they all have crazy scenes where the driver runs red lights and goes airborne and drives on the sidewalk and then drifts into a parallel parking spot or blocks the fire lane and the dad casually throws his car keys to the paramedic and says, "take care of it for me".

But no, that dream won't happen because I married Miss Laid Back Birther who on the way to the hospital says, "oh can you drive down this street? I like looking at the pretty houses."

Anyways, spoiler alert, the new baby wasn't born over the weekend. But we did manage to finally put the Baby front facing; we follow the car seat manufacturer's safety requirements on maximum height/weight which now means I get kicked in the back when I drive anywhere. We also installed Pillow's car seat, so the cars are good to go.


So just like Baby four years ago, the waiting game has started. We managed to avoid a weekend hospital stay ; even though nearly everyone at my office thought it was going to happen.

I just hope when Pillow does arrive that the hospital has cable because the World Cup starts on Thursday and just like me knocking up my wife, that only happens every four years.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Are You Ready?

The question, "are you ready?" is what I have been getting asked the most. This isn't my first rodeo, I know what to expect when I am expecting.

We haven't taken the time to get things ready for Pillow as we did with the Baby. Pillow won't have a nursery with his/her name on the wall. We opted to not have a baby shower (we still have most of the baby stuff from the first one) but my office was generous enough to throw a surprise party for me. Our office tradition is potluck walking tacos; so the element of surprise was ruined when I saw everyone bring in their crockpots but I was a good sport and acted totally surprised.

But if I really think about it, as of a few days ago I wasn't ready. The thought of another mouth to feed hadn't sunk in until yesterday morning. I was waiting for the Wifey and I to celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary before I could mentally prepare. I just wanted one last date with just the Wifey and myself. We decided on a nice dinner and a movie. Nothing special but something more our speed.

So now Pillow can arrive whenever it wants.

Friday, May 30, 2014

Letter to Pillow

Dear Pillow:

Pillow isn't really your nickname, you can thank your sister for that one.

It seems you're being pretty difficult as you're enjoying your stay inside Hotel Mom in womb number 1 (see what I did there? Get used to it, I am mastering the art of Dad jokes). Everyday I get to hear your mother bitch about how you're kicking some random organ or your pressed up against her lungs and she can't breathe, blah blah blah. When you come out, you'll realize how often she complains and bitches and cries. You'll get used to it.

Unlike your sister when we had an inkling she was going to be a girl, you are going to be a true surprise. Each week my opinion changes depending how moody your mother. If she's acting bat shit crazy, you're a girl. But the bat shit craziness has been pretty few and far between, so you might be a laid back dude. And with the way your mom clenches in pain because you punt her in the kidneys, I have aspirations of you being my meal ticket a really good athlete. But if you're a girl you can also be a really good athlete as well. No sexist dad here.

Once I was on a plane to Las Vegas with some friends for a bachelor party and I made a joke that we had a woman pilot and the flight was going to be delayed because she is going to pull the plane over to fix her makeup. A woman sitting next to me asked, "are you serious?!" And I replied, "oh no, planes can't pull over." Then she called me disgusting and said I was unbelievable. It was the most awkward flight ever. Moral of that story is don't ever let anyone hold you back because their view of the world is skewed. Also, don't ever repeat anything I say in public.

I hope you like sports. Mainly football and the Dallas Cowboys. I know in the letter I wrote to your sister, I told her " So that means no crying, diaper changing, or being hungry during the Cowboys game." That will hold true for you too. Your sister knows when I am watching sports (right now she refers to every sport I watch as baseball) so she knows to leave me alone or wait until a commercial. I expect you to do the same. Oh and this applies any time Cops is on as well.

You are going to be the new baby of the family. I hope your sister continues to treat you the way she has been once you get out. You've probably heard her kiss your mom's belly and tell her she loves you. She's even been practicing putting you to sleep - since she didn't know if you're a boy or a girl, she did both.

She will end up being your best friend and you will be hers. You will both have each other to bitch about your mom being weird. She will blame you for stuff she did and you'll do the same. And I'll have two kids to blame for stuff that I did like who ate all the Oreos. I'm excited for you because I hope you'll love Vietnamese food as much as me and your sister. But if you end up having a boring appetite like your mom, that would make her happy too. And both your mom and I are hoping you're a decisive one because right now nobody in this family is willing to make a decision for dinner.

You're coming into a family that always says 'I love you' and will always begin and end our days with a kiss and a hug. Sometimes a big family hug. We'll always hold your hand to cross the street and carry you when your legs are too tired to walk. Your sister will ask you what's wrong and try to make you feel better. I'll ask you what's your deal and try to make you feel better. Your mom will try to talk your ear off about talking about your feelings and then make you feel better. Either way, you'll be loved.

We can wait to meet you.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Letter to the Baby

Dear Baby:

You have no idea how much your life is going to change. You have been the center of our world for the past four years. I think the longest amount of time we spent away from you were the three days your mother and I went to Las Vegas for my job. And you know what happened? You got a sibling. You've been the best birth control. Busting through our closed bedroom door at the most random/inopportune times you instilled an incredible amount of paranoia in us. But that's okay because considering how fertile your mother is combined with the strength of my army, you would probably have 4 siblings by now.

Before you were born, I wrote you a letter and asked you to not be a crier. You ended up being the most sensitive kid alive. But you seem to cry the worst when you accidentally hurt someone. Your guilt just consumes you. That sensitivity is what makes you so special. You're caring with your random requests for a family hug and trading kisses on the cheek. You can sense emotion in other people and your funny quips such as, "don't be mad, we have Oreos" seem to lighten any mood. It's a perfect mixture of your mother's ultra sensitivity and my sense of humor. Your sense of curiosity can be annoying but it's refreshing. I find it hilarious that the little things in life are amazing to you like catching rain with your tongue or sporks. You think sporks are the coolest thing ever and I don't blame you one bit.

You're going to feel like you are an afterthought when Pillow comes out. We might pay less attention to you, we might yell at you for singing too loud when Pillow is asleep. Don't take it personal. All new babies have a "breaking in" period when they first come out. We have to adjust. We have to remember how to do things. We have to think about all the things we screwed up with you and not do those things. But I guarantee we won't forget to hug you and ask you every day "are you happy?"

I will do my best to walk to the park with you so you can play at the playground. I will make sure to throw you on the bed at least four times every day. I will be more patient when you freak out because you can't find the toy poop that came with your latest Barbie doll. Yes, you wanted a Barbie doll that had a dog that pooped everywhere. And it happened to be the smallest pieces of poop ever. And you threw an insane fit when you dropped the poop and couldn't find the little brown Tic-Tacs.

Seriously, little pieces of poop.
I just ask you to be patient with us, especially your mother. She's going to struggle the most because she's going to have to spend so much time with Pillow at the beginning. She's going to need time to adjust. Trust me, it was hard for me when you were first born. It was a competition for her attention. But you're her best friend and best friends don't take it personal. Just be a good big sister and help whenever you can. Your brother/sister will soon become your best friend. And then you can make them find all those stupid pieces of poop.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

The Start of Summer

The unofficial start of summer for our family begins when the local splash parks start spraying. It started a couple of years back (2011) when we happened to drive by a park and said "oh, that place looks cool."

The Wifey went home and did her research and came up with a list of all the splash parks (or also known as spray parks or splash pads) and the goal was to visit a new location every week. We only visited two that summer; weather and distance ended up limiting our options.


Our favorite one is Ridgewood Park in Dallas near Mockingbird (off of Fisher Road). It's the least crowded and in the best shape. We didn't get to visit it last year because it was under complete renovation and opted for the Lake Highlands North location. Not our favorite; it gets crowded and the splash pad is not in very good shape.

This year the forecast was dry and it seemed like a great opportunity. We have a tradition of going to get breakfast tacos from Good 2 Go Taco, and then to the park. It's fun for the Wifey and myself watch her go crazy and spend time at every water station.

So on Saturday morning me and the Wifey were up to get everything ready. Actually, the Wifey had been up since 3AM; she can't sleep ever since I knocked her up. I usually wake up to the gentle glow of Candy Crush from her iPhone screen.

But that morning the Baby refused to get up. She has always been a late riser and could sleep until noon if we let her. But that morning was different. The mere mention of the work 'park' gets her up and out the door. But I had to carry her, still asleep, and put her in the car seat.

She slept the entire time during breakfast. We had an inkling something was up but figured she was just tired since she didn't nap the night before and stayed up way too late.

We went to the freshly renovated Ridgewood location - the spray park was unchanged but a new playground was added. We figured if that doesn't wake her up then something is definitely up. Sure enough, her mood didn't change. She refused the water and the slides.

As I carried her back to the car, her head on my shoulder, I could feel her stomach begin to tense up and then memories of the Baby spitting up appeared on my shoulder. Except it wasn't milk spit up but straight vomit. Luckily she hadn't eaten anything and it was just straight stomach acid and water. But the damage was done. The white trash guy in me had to drive home without a shirt.

So we went home, got some pedialyte pops and let her sleep it out. The Baby is normally a momma's girl and usually clings on her. But when she's sick, she prefers me. I don't know, maybe it's because I give off more heat and I am a great cuddler. But she will usually just lie down next to me and sleep. So after 4 hours of straight sleeping, she woke up, perfectly normal. And the first thing she asked when she started to feel better, "can we go to the water park? I didn't get to play this morning."

Friday, May 23, 2014

White Trash Girls and Tornado Sirens

"Can we go to the park?"

That is the question I get hit with everyday from the Baby. There could be tornado sirens screaming and our iPhones blasting that crazy emergency broadcast and the Baby will ask if she can ride her scooter to the park. It's a little annoying to be asked everyday. I don't mind going but I wouldn't mind being lazy after a long day at work.

The park isn't far from our house, which is really convenient - it's about a 10 minute walk. The Baby will put on her helmet and hop on her little scooter and roll herself in front of us. She does a good job of stopping so she can literally smell the roses so we can catch up (or more so that the Wifey can catch up) and then she'll be off again.

The Baby will 'race' us to the park - it's not much of a race because when we start beating her, she tells us to stop so we can start the race all over again. The Wifey and I will sit at the bench while the Baby plays by herself, dangling and hanging from the bars.

The playground seems to be a local hangout for the white trash kids in our neighborhood. To be fair, it's just one white trash girl - she's probably about 12 or 13 but all she does is cuss and talk about how she's going to whoop someone's ass. She bullies everyone that hangs out at the park. And I just cringe listening to her because that could be the Baby. I am sure this girl is really nice around her parents, she's probably a great student, but her alter ego comes out at this park. Maybe her parents never took the time to talk to her or they were too lazy to go to the park with her. I want to tell her how trashy she is but she's pretty mean and I am afraid she might say some hurtful things to me. I'm even bullied by her.

I worry that the Baby will get bullied. She's so sensitive and tiny compared to everyone else. She wears weird clothes, she talks to herself, and she doesn't mind playing by herself. On our walks, she will pick flowers for us. She even picked the tiniest flower she could find for the baby inside the Wifey's belly. "It's a small flower because the baby is small," the baby told us as she handed us a flower.

Shit like that makes you a prime target for bullies. It's probably the fatherly instinct coming out in me; my paternal desire to always protect the Baby from everything negative in this world. But I won't always be at the park and I definitely can't beat up a 12 year old girl (I mean, I can guarantee you that I can physically beat up a 12 year old girl; I'll probably knock her out with one punch. It's just that, legally, I can't beat up a 12 year old girl) that is picking on the Baby.

I just have to hope the Baby can put down her freshly picked flowers and defend herself. Or maybe even avoid the situation all together. I just don't want her to ever lose the innocence and joy of simply going to the park.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

That's Not Good

Shit is about to get real again. Literal shit. Exploding diapers and weird yellow poop. Ever since the Baby pretty much potty trained herself (parent of the year), the only I time I see any crap, other than my own, is when the Baby forgets to flush and leaves her floaters. But that's all going to change soon.

We are a little under 4 weeks to the arrival of 'Pillow' and I am not the least bit prepared. When the Wifey was preggers with the original Baby, she never once took part in the 'nesting phase'. But I found myself cleaning stuff and organizing things and getting us somewhat prepared. And that was during the time I was working a full time job and taking an insanely idiotic 24 credit hours at school and trying to go pro in Call of Duty. But now, I am just not feeling it. And these last few weeks have been a marathon of washing clothes and cleaning baseboards and organizing things and I really want no part in it.

Every day the Wifey will send me messages like this:

Emotion/Compassion are lacking in my response. It's the incredible amount of fear I have in accepting the fact that we're about to have another living creature in our house. It sends a cold, cold shiver up my spine to think about two screaming voices in the backseat; heck, it might be three screaming voices depending on the mood the Wifey is in. I can imagine the car being filled with a chorus of screaming and yelling and my pathetic sobbing while 'Let it Go' from the Disney's Frozen soundtrack blares from the car speakers. I will call it a Symphony of Conflicting Emotions. I will call it my future.

I just hope Pillow doesn't come sooner than later. And if he/she does, I am pretty sure I can get my mindset adjusted as soon as I hold our newest addition and I can respond with something better than "that's not good."

Sunday, May 11, 2014

An Attempt at Mother's Day

My family never went out of our way to recognize these holidays, or any holiday for that matter. It was a combination of being poor and our culture. It's not like we didn't appreciate our parents - we just didn't feel the need to exemplify it on a particular day. We would have our family dinner at some restaurant but for the most part it was just like any other day.

Fast forward to now and the past four years that the Wifey has actually been a mother and I still haven't learned the significance of the day. Actually, I know full well the significance of the day, I just don't know how to express it. Maybe I over think the actual execution - I could go the cheesy route and make a necklace out of elbow macaroni. Or do a finger painting of the family. That would let the Baby get involved and she would understand the fun that is Mother's Day. I thought about getting some supplies together and making paper dolls and writing a reason why we love her on each one. Not bad ideas. But then I worry that my masterful creations would find itself on the fridge and covered with the countless number of Save the Dates and announcements and just get lost in the mix.

I could just splurge and get her something good. Maybe a spa day with her best friend. She loves spa days, she loves her best friend, and she gets to get away from me. But then I have this gut feeling that she would feel guilty for spending time away from her family on Mother's Day while she is getting pampered and relaxing. And then she would be mad at how much it all cost for a spa day.

Or maybe the fact that I am not good at recognizing Mother's Day is the fact that it's the realization that I am celebrating a MOM. It's the confirmation that we are actually growing up and she's no longer the Wifey, she's no longer my hot girlfriend, but an actual mom. And I have to celebrate her mom-lyness with mom things. It's the realization that short jean skirts and boots are being replaced with mom jeans and those Skecher shape up polio shoes.

It's the understanding that I have to share my best friend with someone else. It's the sinking feeling that the twenty year olds who would stay out way too late and play in the rain and roll down grassy hills just aren't the same anymore. Sure, I noticed it when getting out of bed becomes a task and my bones creak just as much as the springs in my mattress.

Or maybe it's because I miss my own mom. And I feel guilty because I never celebrated her for everything she did for our family. Seldom a thank you for all the times she did her motherly duties without a single complaint. Like the time she made 300 croissants the morning of a third grade project about Canada that I didn't tell her about until the night before. Or the very first day I ever had a license and I thought it would be cool to do a 3 point turn for no damn reason whatsoever and ended up flooring it in reverse and destroyed some old lady's tree as she was working on her garden. As I told my mom what had just happened, I thought to myself, I am the first person ever to get and lose their license on the same day. My mom gave me the "disapproving, I am burning your soul with my eyes" look, she walked over to the woman's house and faked her bad English so much, the old lady just agreed I would only have to replant the tree.

But I've finally come to the understanding that I am not celebrating the Wifey's Mother Day in place of my mom's but I should be celebrating Mother's Day for the Baby and the family. The Baby needs to understand that there's a day every year where you can truly thank your mom without ever thanking her. The Baby needs to learn the excitement of secretly creating crappy macaroni art all in preparation for Mother's Day. Because even though I still have a hard time coming to terms that my hot girlfriend is still an actual mother, she will always be the best mother to our family, Skecher shoes or not.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Rolling Something Illegal

Anytime I hear the word "free", you have my undivided attention. I caught wind of a launch party for the newest food truck in the Dallas area and made sure I brought my A-game in sweet talking my way into this event. Luckily I didn't have to do much sweet talking as I was the Wifey's guest. I guess marriage has it's positives.

This event was going to be held at the Community Beer Company Brewery across from the home of the Dallas Mavericks and Dallas Stars and random circuses. And arguably the most talented musical duo, The O's. They are just two dudes who play every instrument, at the same freaking time.

But obviously the highlight of this launch party was for the Texas Burrito Company, the latest invention from the Two Trucks LLC, same brains behind The Butcher's Son Gandolfo's and What's Da Scoop. I am guessing this new truck makes them Four Trucks LLC?

Surprising Dallas lacks a good Mexican food truck. There's a Greek truck, slider truck, Indian food truck, hot dog truck, and even a sushi truck but not really a Mexican truck. I'm not a big fan of kitschy slogans (don't get me started at the incredible influx of "what the pho" crap for vietnamese places) but Texas Burrito Company's slogan is "Anything rolled this good should be illegal." Luckily for them, the slogan holds up.

I remember when I had to go to Ogden, Utah for work, I was introduced to something that was better than Chipotle and Freebirds. A burrito place called Costa Vida. I know, I should turn in my Texan card, but I've never imagined burying a perfectly good burrito in delicious sauce. But if it's any consolation, Costa Vida has a location in Fort Worth and I think Grapevine.

After grabbing a Community Public Ale, recently victorious at the GABF (Great American Beer Festival or Good Ass Beer Festival), I decided on the Rio Grande, a flour burrito filled with sweet pork barbacoa, cheese, rice, and beans, and made wet, which is their sexual innuendo for bathing the burrito in a green chile sauce. The barbacoa was ridiculously delicious. I would liken it to more of a carnita but it was definitely good.

The Wifey decided on a pick two taco plate and ended up getting the fire grill steak and chicken. The steak sadly lacked flavor. You could tell it had seasoning on it but the meat itself was just bland. The chicken was a lot better and the fact it had goat cheese and bacon made it even more satisfying.

We also got hooked up with some grilled corn. I would just go to this truck solely for the grilled corn. A whole corn grilled and covered in an avocado lime crema and a Sriracha drizzle. I would be smitten if they put some in my burrito.

Best part of this meal? The O's serenaded us with music and their standup comedy. If you don't want to eat your burrito with pinkies out with a knife and fork, then you can opt to not make your burrito wet. But I will highly suggest against it.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Choco Tacos and Tears

Pillow is roughly around it's 26th week and based on the Wifey's bitching, it is currently kicking itself into her lungs. I haven't had a chance to actually feel Pillow kick but I do make sure I poke the crap out of Pillow's home hoping to stir up some movement. It just seems as though Pillow decides to play shy when I get near.

The Wifey has been stashing a box of Choco-Tacos in the back of the freezer and the other night the Baby came across this hidden treasure.

The Baby has always had free reign in the pantry and the fridge and although some parents would freak out over this autonomy, the Baby has done a good job of making healthy choices. She usually opts for fruit or carrots as her preferred snacks. She will sometimes spot the bag of frozen edamame and request that as a snack but she refers to as green beans. Pretty much anything that's small and green is a green bean. Except peas. Those are just peas.

But the box of Choco-Tacos caught her eye as she was rummaging the freezer - the chocolate, waffle shell definitely called out to her. Since she knows better not to eat anything new or delicious without running it by us first, she quietly grabbed my hand and pointed at the majestical glow beaming from this Choco-Taco box.

Sadly, there was only one left. I told the Baby she couldn't have it; she would need to ask her mom first. The Baby started to whine and pout so I finally said, "fine, you can have it. But you have to tell mommy you ate the last one."

Sudden fear colored her face and she frantically said no and refused the scrumptious treat. The Baby knows not to eat a pregnant woman's last one of anything. She decided that a bowl of cold carrots would hold her over until her mother came home.

Friday, February 28, 2014

Quell the Vomit Monster

As we gear up for the arrival of Pillow, there are a few items that never left our possession. The Baby accumulated an obscene amount of unwanted junk from family and friends (we appreciate the thoughtful gestures!) - but it ends up being overwhelming. Compound that with the fact that the Wifey is a crazy pack-rat (she vehemently denies it), our house is essentially a shoo-in for the next episode of Hoarders. A person can stuff only so many clothes and toys into a ForceFlex garbage bag before the trash bag says "F this shit" and rips itself open. Probably the exact same feeling the buttons on my shirt feel after a trip to the local buffet.

But there are baby things you end up using on a daily basis. Some things I will ask myself why the hell I threw it in the trash in the first place. Here is my life of the four best baby things you'll continue to use.

1. Baby wipes.

Basically they are wet naps except you don't have to rip it open with your teeth like a condom package. The whole reason you're a parent in the first place is because you had trouble opening the condom. Baby wipes are decently priced for the amount you get in a package; the packaging is resealable so you'll always have that cool, moist tissue. They are great if you need to cool down, somehow smash ice cream all over your face, or you need a quick "shower" and the can of FeBreze is nowhere to be found. I usually have a package somewhere in the car - you never know when someone is going to spill. I prefer a baby wipe over the hand sanitizers just because A) it's super creepy when someone pulls it out and squeezes it into their palm and then rubs it like they are about to go into surgery and B) they dry out my hands. Plus you don't rub sanitizer all over your face just because you couldn't resist the all you can eat Riblets at Applebee's.

2. Baby blanket

You know you have a closet full of them. Just stacks on stacks of blankets of quilts. Some with mysterious stains others still covered in your mother in law's perfume. But either way, you still have them and you will still use them. They are big enough to shut the Wifey up when she complains the car's heater isn't getting hot fast enough. But they are small enough it doesn't feel like you're dragging around the comforter of your bed. They are handy when you need a quick makeshift blanket or if you need a privacy screen so your daughter can pee on the side of the road because she couldn't hold it long enough and there was no way in hell you were going to use Wal-Mart's bathroom.

3. Snacks

This is a tough one because a lot of the snacks that the Baby eats are snacks that I eat. Fruit snacks and goldfish seem to be the most common ones. But snacks are really beneficial when you are toting around a gallon Zip-loc bag of stale, flavorless Cheerios. There will be times when the Wifey (or yourself) happen to drink two too many bottles of crappy house wine when you're out and the drive thru line to Whataburger happens to be 7 cars long - you're going to need something bland to quell the Vomit Monster.

4. Diaper bag

I know, it's a bitch to carry around in the first place. And it's even worse for guys because all the new diaper bags look like big ass purses. It's bad enough you have to hold your wife's purse but now you have to hold your wife's purse AND your daughter's bigger ass purse. But that thing is useful. A diaper bag is the Swiss Army Knife of random ass shit. There are so many times that I need somewhere to put my keys, wallet, and phone because I wear athletic shorts in public because I DON'T GIVE AN F. I need some baby wipes because my face is dirty and I'm too classy to spit wash my own face? It's in the diaper bag. My kid wanted to jump in the water fountain at the mall and now she's naked in the backseat? Cover her up with that blanket that you somehow managed to shove in the diaper bag. And the greatest thing about diaper bags are the random goodies you will find at the bottom. I've found goldfish crackers to M&Ms and even that Redbox DVD of Madagascar 3 that your wife swore she returned.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Is it a boy? Is it a girl?

I officially celebrated my 30th birthday by using a gift card to Chilis with my family. Service was mediocre and so was the food but I spent it with my family. The Baby is just getting more wild in public and it's a chore to take her anywhere but I will attribute that to her being stuck in the house after daycare as I had to work.

The Baby reminds me of our dog Shrek. As soon as he is anywhere not at home, he freaks out and goes into super hyper mode. It was like the Baby chugged one of those yard long Pixi Stix. Insane.

The Diva 

A couple of weeks ago the Wifey and I went to the doctor to get our first sonogram of an actual baby in her stomach. When we to the sonogram with the Baby a few years ago, we let them know we didn't want to know the sex. He tried his best to avoid the crotcch but the Wifey and I both caught a glimpse of a "hotdog bun" which is the universal indicator of a vagina. If it was a boy, it would have been a turtle. So although we officially didn't know the Baby was a girl, we knew deep down.

This time we made sure to reiterate that, despite the angst expressed by family and friends, we ARE STILL NOT going to find out the sex of Pillow. I even went the extra step of focusing on my game of Flappy Birds when he was in the area. And this time the Wifey and I feel a lot more confident that we don't know if we are having a boy or a girl.

But the sonogram we received seems to be a clear indicator that we're having a boy. There is no doubting it. Take a look for yourself.

LOOK AT THAT. My boy is already a man. He's a mushroom headed monster. That thing is about half his body size. Impressive. But also makes me want to take a paternity test. He definitely didn't get that gift from me.

For those who are unfamiliar with sonograms - that's actually Pillow's leg...or maybe a third leg, amirite?

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Taking the Time to Listen

The Baby is going to be four years old next month. Just this past week she upgraded from her long baby hair and got a more mature haircut, complete with sideswept bangs. In fact, as soon as she got her haircut, she's been sleeping in her own bed. As a family we are already spending less and less time together. And especially with technology, we all seem to be consumed on what's on the screen rather than the person in front of us.

I hardly ever really take the time to listen to what the Baby is talking about. It's usually just random, non-nonsensical blabber. I do a better job of understanding her than the Wifey but I will attribute that to my years of listening to my dad's broken English.

But today I sat down and just listened to her. Listened to her words, listened to her hand movements, and her body language. For a little kid, she has a lot to communicate. I asked her why she doesn't watch Dora the Explorer anymore. I asked her why she prefers Doc McStuffins or some show about a handyman. Her response was straight forward and made perfect sense.

"I don't like to watch it anymore because it has bad guys in it. They are mean."

Simple but very clear thought process.

She then explained the purpose of lotion.

"Your skin gets dry and you put lotion on it."

I am so caught up in thinking that she hasn't grown up that I fail to appreciate how intelligent she has become. I can explain things and she will pretty much understand what's going on. Except for when we went to Target to get a Valentine's stuff for her day care friends. Apparently the Baby wanted some just for her self. Such a spoiled brat.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Surviving the Baby Store

The trip to the Big Box Mega Baby Store is a visit I would normally dread. Screaming babies, pregnant women with constant bitchy resting face, and the long check out lines. It's like Wal-Mart except the people not wearing pants are in the infant carriers. The trip to the store is never off to a good start if I have to mean mug the asshole that parks in the expectant mothers' spot. I worked hard to impregnate the Wifey to get that prime spot.

Total Wine = Step 1 in the baby making process

The Wifey knows it's not my most favorite store and she definitely knows not to get pregnant during the football season or she would be making these visits alone. But she's considerate; she doesn't demand my opinion - she knows it's the same answer of "whichever you like the best." She makes sure she gets everything she needs because wasting away in the checkout line only for her to forget something on the other side of the store is a huge tease.

But luckily I've learned make the most of the visit and entertain myself. So here are the 5 Rules to Maintain Your Sanity in the Big Box Mega Baby Store:

1) Be charged.

Make sure your phone is charged. Sorry, let me be more specific: make sure your smart/internet-capable phone is charged. You can't survive a visit if you're limited to Snake 2. I would estimate 80% battery should be sufficient but it really depends on the visit. If you're registering for baby stuff, you should be fine. You'd be surprised how fast time flies when you're scanning random shit. But if you're returning everything that you registered for because you thought there is no way on Earth someone would buy the diaper disposal system that seals diapers shut 360 degrees in order to lock in odors - you thought wrong. Someone will buy it and you will be waiting in line to return it. In that scenario you will need a fully charged phone and maybe an extended battery.

2) Limit your attention span.

A fully charged phone will do you no good if you do not have internet or stuff to do on the phone. There is a really good chance that in the vastness of one these mega stores, there will be an internet dead spot from as soon as you walk in all the way to dumpsters in the alley behind the store. Don't try and force your phone to find that one bar of service, you will end up draining your battery further. But if you are one of the lucky few who can get service, keep your internet surfing short and sweet. You want to be able to read a quick story or maybe some tweets but don't try and watch a movie. Definitely don't even try to sneak your Kindle in and try and read a book. You will need something you can quickly stop so you can answer questions like, "how will this look in the yet to be designed nursery?" The answer: it's going to look great because you've shoved that Pinterest picture in my face a 1000 times. The reality: it's going to look like crap because, well  because it's Pinterest. You can try watching Vine videos but acoustics are awful in these big buildings and you'll have your phone to your ear as if your phone is telling you a secret. Stick to material that is geared for short attention spans just to make your partner you think you don't mind shopping.

3) Hulk Smash.

You have no bars of service. Don't fret. Most of the games available for your phone are designed for your one handed play so you can continue to push the shopping cart and still play. Candy Crush seems to be popular but I don't play it so I wouldn't know. If you are lucky and happen to have downloaded Flappy Birds before it was pulled, be careful. If your partner happens to ask you for your opinion right when you're going to beat your high score of 7, you're going to come off as an ass when you ignore life. But what do you do when you experience Flappy Bird rage? You can't throw your phone and you definitely can't start cussing - this is still a baby store. You punch stuff. I am being serious. Baby car seat displays are perfect punching. Most of the car seats have side impact things that are great for a right hook and it's always fun to see how well these car seats hold up. And it's always fun to think that your punches are flying at the same force and velocity of a two ton steel car slamming into your car because you know, we're men and we Hulk smash. I usually go down to the row of car seats and punch all the side impact head cushions. You definitely don't want to punch the main cavity of the seat where the kid actually sits. That's just hard plastic and it hurts and dumb. Punch the head cushions. It takes practice because if you miss, it's going to hurt.

4) Demo everything.

A good baby store will let you demo everything. So why not make it fun? I usually go to the baby swings and turn all them on at one time. And then I turn up the speed and music so the aisle is filled with crappy baby music. If you are up for the challenge, try getting all the baby swings to swing in unison. Some of the swings have different swing timing so you have to time it just right. I think I've gotten 4 swings in unison. I probably could have gotten more but I had to give my opinion on which breast pump looks better designed to suck the most milk. You can also go to all the baby toys and press the demo buttons just to be even more annoying. I like the toys that sing. I get all the toys to sing at the same time so it's like I am conducting my own choir. I'd probably could spend an entire day doing this if I had chance.

5) Take a break.

No internet? No more battery life? Hand hurts from punching stuff? Don't worry, the best thing about the baby store is the row of rocking chairs that were made for resting. It might be a little rude to sit in one of these chairs the whole time so I usually make this a last resort. I will also pick the cheapest chair. You don't need to be comfortable - you just need to get off your feet. But if the store isn't busy, by all means, treat yo self and sit in the mega chair. You won't regret it. And if your partner asks why you're sitting down, go with this sure-fire gem: "I am just imagining rocking our beautiful child to sleep so you can get your rest." Boom. Gold. But be careful, if the Wifey ever catches you passed out in the rocking chair with your newborn hanging on for dear life, she will never, ever let it go.

And if everyone is wondering, there is a diaper disposal system that seals your dirty diapers shut like those food vacs.

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Bronies and Twilight Sparkle

The family took an impromptu trip to the mall on Saturday because the pregnant Wifey was in the mood for some pasta. For some odd reason it didn't occur to us that there would be a ridiculously long wait to get a table for a table of three. Nearly a three hour wait was in store for us. Instead of waiting around we opted to walk the mall and let the Baby run out some energy.

We ended up going to Build A Bear because the Baby is a huge My Little Pony fan. It came as a shock to us when the Baby named every single character from the show. Her love was really cemented when we watched a documentary on Netflix called "Bronies" which is about the unlikely fans of My Little Pony.

The Baby ends up picking out Twilight Sparkle and we head back to the restaurant. Our original choice was Maggianos so the Wifey could satisfy her pasta craving but since the wait was still pretty long, we decided on Seasons 52. We heard it was pretty good but their big selling point is all their entrees are under 500 calories.

The Wifey and I chose our respective meals and Seasons 52 offered a small kids menu. It was your typical pizza, chicken fingers, and pasta menu. We decided to order the Baby some edamame. Apparently our server thought this was the most amazing thing ever that a little 4 year old would be excited for edamame. The Baby prefers to call them green beans - the only issue we have is the work it takes just to squeeze them out of the pods. When our food came out, the food runner even was amazed that we ordered the Baby edamame.

The Wifey and I do not have very good eating habits. But the Baby has been pretty good about eating healthy snacks and preferring water over sodas. She actually finds sodas to be very disgusting. That's fine by us. We've always allowed the Baby to have free will in choosing her snacks - she can open the fridge and pantry and grab whatever she wants. We've been lucky that her two favorite snacks are carrots and fruit; particularly apples.

Of course the Baby isn't perfect. If she comes across a bag of Oreos, there's a 100% chance she has gone through and licked off all the cream and put the cookies back. But for the most part her she rotates between string cheese, carrots, and apples.

Friday, January 31, 2014

Halfway Point

Seems we've hit the halfway point in meeting the newest addition to the family and things are pretty much exactly the same.

Not much has changed in our routine and we haven't even begun preparing the nursery. We don't even know  if we'll even have a nursery. And it's that lack of progress that makes me feel this second kid is just an afterthought. I know once the New Baby comes strolling out of the womb we'll love it unconditionally but I am afraid we'll always show some sort of favoritism or preference to the original Baby. I mean, I couldn't even make the effort to come up with an original name for the New Baby. The Baby has repeatedly said she wanted the New Baby to be named Pillow. So Pillow it is.

The Baby, for the most part, has been a perfect kid. She has her moments; as you can see in the video below (sorry for not turning the camera) in her 30 minute breakdown because she refused to say please when she asked to borrow my phone. It also didn't help that she didn't want to be filmed either. Once we got home she stood in the darkness of her room for another 30 minutes. She's such a sensitive little bia.

But it's that type of sensitivity that the Wifey and I adore about the Baby. She shows an incredible amount of empathy when your mood is off. She'll just simply ask, "are you happy?," and if you respond with why you're not happy she will just say "oh."

 I don't know how the Baby will react with someone else competing for our attention, or even worse her Nana's attention. She's already so standoffish when it comes to other babies and if she's not in the center of attention, we end up having issues.

The Wifey is confident she will be a good big sister. I'm not so sure. Especially if Pillow is just the opposite of the Baby as a newborn. The Baby slept well, ate well, and rarely cried for an extended amount of time. I am kinda worried for the Wifey. Baby is so attached to her already. When Pillow comes out, she will literally have a kid attached to her.

Maybe the Baby will continue to surprise me and the Wifey will be right again and she ends up being the best big sister ever. Or maybe she will just end up standing in the dark in her room until someone come gets her. I guess we'll find out in June.