Scattered Soundbites

New Year's Resolution: Potty train Kincaid in three days.

Ambitious, right? A 57-page PDF manual touted the prospect of this miracle by the "Queen of Potty Training," Lora Jensen. Naturally, my "first-born" compulsions obliged the thorough reading of every page of this elusive method for excellence in child excretion. However, after the longest three days of our lives, after pretending forgiveness for every "accident" and after dispensing an entire bag of Reeses Pieces "incentives", we concluded this "Queen" clearly did not have boys.  Suffice to say, my "good days" are the ones where Caid poops his pants with warning.

This too shall pass.  Along with my sanity.

Is anyone really surprised? Colson is already getting the blogging "shaft"- the third child cyber syndrome- which reduces the baby to "after thought" photos and updates. Guilty impulse memorializing such as the following...

Colicky

Colson is colicky which was shocking to me since I foolishly thought I had arranged a divine "quid pro quo" that earned me an easy, almost undetectable third child. Ha! (Tell God your plans if you want to see Him laugh)

Old Man

Colson's perpetually furrowed brow, frequent flatulence and striking resemblance to my middle-aged father render him less "newborn" and more "retired." Though, without doubt, he is the cutest OLD MAN, you'll ever lay eyes upon. 

Love

Colson has proven that Kincaid has the ability to LOVE something other than his ukulele and chocolate milk.  The gentle lilt of Kincaid's voice whispering "Colson Baby" almost makes a felony future totally unfathomable. (I jest, of course. sort of).

Sofa

This is the family room setting whereupon I pass most of my days, as Colson still demands to be fed every two hours. Yes, I said "two hours."  That's an hour and a half window for "refueling." I solely blame (and secretly envy) Jason's other worldly metabolic rate. On the rare occasion I get to vacate the proverbial feeding trough, my Medela pump keeps vigil in my absence on the SOFA.

Open

Colson loves to give OPEN-mouth smiles, which magically make his miniature mouth appear normal-sized. Further, when he smiles, those edible dimples absolve the scream-fest that preceded their debut. Finally, when Colson's enormous blue eyes are OPEN, you can't help but want to drown in them. They are that penetrating. Trust me. And I say this all without bias!

Nine

Colson is fast approaching the NINE month clothing bench mark. Presently, he fills out his six-month pajamas at just 10 weeks. Now, before you fall asleep wading through this banal trivia (for which I would not lay blame), suffice to say- Colson is long- long legs, long torso, long toes, long fingers. And by NINE months, he will simply be long and bald- since he is also losing his lovely locks.

 

Yet, all this matters little in the measure of my affection for this tiny old man.