Exhibit A

It has been pointed out several times that I have not "written about the baby" in awhile.  Mostly this is because she is the most easy-going person in this house and therefor does not generate a lot of blog-fodder.  However, she is starting to develop a very sweet personality, which I can elaborate on for you here (so shut the hell up already).

Things Sydney Likes:

• Daddy's face
• Eating Daddy's face
• Eating Mommy's face/clothes
• Eating her fists/clothes
• Pumping her legs like pistons
• Smiling
• Being the largest baby EVER TO WALK THE EARTH
  
• Not napping all day!
• Eating anything
  

Things Sydney Does NOT Like:

• Napping!
• Not being able to see a face at all times
• Silence
• Napping!
• Being startled
• Bottles
  

Lots of whining

So sometime in the blurry 3-month haze leading up to Christmas, I pulled a muscle in my lower back.  Now, I don't know if you've ever attempted to continue to live your life with a pulled back muscle, but I can assure you, it is not pleasant.  And when "living your life" consists of hauling around a giant 19-lb baby all day, and doing the enormous amounts of laundry that having two boys and a constantly wet/dirty/barfy baby generate, well then "living your life" is comparable to single-handedly building a railroad.  Through Texas.

I probably should go to the doctor in regards to my twingy and perennially sore back, but I just don't have time.  I am still doing laundry.

Needless to say (but I will anyway) having a sore back makes me a wee bit crabby.  Especially by the end of the day.  This is not coincidentally when Jack usually acts up...his opening act occurs at the dinner table where he torments Dan by not eating, and then sneaks bites when Dan isn't paying attention.  It does not bode well that he loves to antagonize his father already; I can only imagine what plans Sydney has in store for me.  The second act happens while Dan does the dishes and Jack proceeds to talk a hole in my head about various toys and violent acts.  The third, and THANK GOD final act is getting his skinny white body into pajamas and into bed.  Luckily this is usually taken care of by Dan, but often I am required to be the relief parent when veins start bulging in Dan's face as Jack comes up with his usual 53 reasons why he can't go to bed JUST QUITE YET.  Last night I overheard Dan ushering Jack through the process when there was a period of silence followed by some loud squawking.  Dan had found a bag of cookies stashed in Jack's bathroom.  Suddenly everything made sense:

After dinner (while Dan was occupied with the dishes) Jack had talked me into giving him some shortbread cookies.  I gave him two, but set the bag down next to the couch where I was sitting with the baby.  After eating his cookies, he picked the bag up and said sweetly, "I'll just put these away."  He walked back through the kitchen to where I assumed he was putting the cookies.  Well, unbeknownst to me, he walked THROUGH the kitchen and up the back stairs to his bathroom where he put the cookies "away."  Now this didn't bother me so much because it is absolutely something that I would have/did do in my childhood (Boyds are huge cookie-heads) but it was unnerving to me that he had the guile to come back down the FRONT STEPS holding a book which led me to believe he had run upstairs to grab something from his room.

So, to look on the bright side, Jack could have a successful career as a petty thief and also is clearly smart enough to find an opening and take it.  But the un-ignorable truth is that he is a weasel.  So note to all mothers of boys that are under the age of 4:  Enjoy this age of innocence and honesty.  Because at 4 things start to get ugly.

If I only had a blog

Narration:  Jack has been out of school for almost 10 days, and after holidays, treats, presents, visitors and being sick, he is absolutely desperate to escape this house, if not our attention.  We have been issuing more threats than usual over the past few days, and as the baby has a cold, I am absolutely on my last nerve from lack of sleep.

Me:  Jack, pick these toys up or you're going to your room for the rest of the day.
Jack:  Um, no thank you.
Me:  One....two....
Jack:  I want to live somewhere else.
Dan (muttering):  If I had a blog I would make a lone, two-word post:  "2010 sucks."

Merry Christmas!

I hope that this holiday finds everyone healthy and happy and with the ones that they love the most--their horrible families.  Just kidding, family is wonderful.  Especially family that has a great sense of humor and cooking skills, like mine.

Jack is celebrating his first cognitive Christmas this year--he has become well aware of the omniscient Santa Claus and even the religious significance of the holiday.  On the way home from school he wanted to discuss his limited knowledge: "Christmas is when God's baby was born.  What was that baby's name?"  So I had to draw on my years of Sunday school instruction to explain the miracle of Christmas, and how Jesus changed the world.  We aren't a particularly religious family, but I'd like to think that we are very spiritual, and I really wanted to impart the spirit of Christmas to this child, and explain to him that people are willing to make sacrifices to help others, and that we should feel blessed to have the opportunity to do that in our lives.  Especially with younger siblings.

End of the day

Dan:  It's time for bed.
Jack:  I need to stay up for a few huge minutes.
Dan:  Uh, no.
Jack:  BUT I'M TIRED!  I mean, I'M NOT TIRED!
Dan:  That right there is why you need to go to bed.
Jack, whining:  I need to write a book!
Dan, getting angry:  We can do that tomorrow.  Chapter 1:  My Dad was a huge dick.
Jack:  I don't want a huge dick!

Overheard (at 8am)

Dan:  Jack, tell your baby sister a story.
Jack:  ABCDeezEFGHRJKMNMOPQRessyTUVWXYandZ!
Dan:  She likes it.
Jack:  I know.  This is a crazy family.
Dan:  ...OK.
Jack:  Dad, I have to tell you sumpin.  I like apple pie, pumpkin pie, but NOT peach pie.  The baby doesn't like peach pie either.

Conversation

Sydney's...girth, for lack of a better word, is the #1 topic of conversation whenever we're out in public. North Carolina is famous for it's relentless friendliness, and add a baby to that mix and you have a recipe for hours of conversations with strangers about your enormous infant. I have had the following conversation approximately 500 times in the last 2 months...and today it got a little ugly.

Scene: At the pediatrician's office, in the waiting room, two cranky ladies sit waiting for over 40 minutes.

Sydney: Waaahhh! (loosely translated to "What the f*ck is taking so long!?!?")
Receptionist, who has watched us sitting here for 40 minutes: Wow, she is mad!
Me: Yep.
Receptionist: She sure is big!
Me: Mmmhmm.
Receptionist: How old is she?
Me: 10 weeks.
Receptionist: Holy cow! What do you feed her?
Me: Plutonium.
Receptionist: Oh.