terrorists of love

we'd been told that after the days of sweetness and light, where the elder sibling makes nice with the new baby, the proverbial shit hits the fan.

i'm hoping the following communications mean that time has come and gone.

just for posterity's sake, a recounting of the bizarre two days the tuesday after my last posts, via texts from kris:

3:13 p.m.

He pissed all over bed, orangie, [his plush dr. seuss doll] and then apparently over side bc there was a puddle on floor and his dragon ride was dripping wet. I have changed him and the bed and put him back in it. No tee tee [video] tonight and i'm going to let him lie in there now as long as it takes, even if he pees all over the damn room.

i responded that we were going to have to stop putting him in zippered sleepers, thinking he knows how to take them off now.

4:11 p.m.

Um, he was wearing pants. I had to change him into zips.

i went back to the sports department, where a couple of the staffers had sons. they'd had similar experiences of their boys removing their diapers to water their surroundings, they assured me.

i relayed this to kris.

5:58 p.m.

How about the insane hitting and tantrums?

i didn't bother following up. then a revelation:

7:13 p.m.

A night without orangie, oh my. He asked, but i think he understands bc he did not protest. I told him bc he peed on him, he's got to take a bath. He has tigger instead. We shall see.

consequences! he recognizes them!

then, checking on her after a late shift ...

11:47 p.m.

He was fine. She's being... Herself. Oy.

and then ...

12:31 a.m

She is never going to fucking sleep. I'm gonna fucking die.

next day, i text to see if there's any improvement:

6:17 p.m.

Yeah, we're fine. Sorry. Watching harold [and the purple crayon cartoon] before bed.

progress! and then ...

7:23 p.m.

Ok for real somebody needs to ask rick [atkinson, airport manager] about these low-flying planes. I really thought that one was coming through our roof.

i learned later that said planes had awakened boy.

8:05 p.m.

Your children are psycho. Felix is wearing bib overalls to sleep until further notice, by the way. I'm not cleaning up piss anymore. Seriously, they're insane. All 3 of them.

she included the cat as a contributor to the craziness.

and to close ...

8:21 p.m.

No- fuck it. He can wear the damn uncomfortable demit bias [denim bibs] until he stops acting like a turd. That's what he's being. He said his name for the first time tonight, the little turd. To mock me! As in, 'oh, felix!' when i saw the mess. And now girl is out of her mind. Just fuck.

but -- because she is a genius, kris hit upon the idea of putting the boy in a onesie so as to block easy access to his diaper via the zippered sleepers.

no pissing from the crib so far.

btw

come naptime, what with the thrashing and grunting and cries of "whoa!", it often sounds like the boy isn't just fighting sleep but brawling in a cage match with morpheus himself.

dialogue

me, as the boy, bellowing, rouses: "6:29. he let us sleep in."

she, as the girl squawks for her morning feeding: "he's a gem."

(from last week, a similar note, as i now try to get some extra, post-feed winks.)

coming around

this is the boy and his sister.

i think we're finding that making him a part of the team -- "help daddy" or "help mommy" -- has gone a long way in helping him feel important and needed.

i'm still working hard to have alone time with him.

and i'm finding i work best when i'm up with him in the morning to wear his ass out for his mid-afternoon nap.

so maybe i'd best be hitting the sack.

old gold and blue afterglow

as i contemplate a drive to morgantown to have my picture taken with a fruit bowl, i'm still basking in the glow of my west virginia mountaineers setting an all-time bowl record for points in their win against clemson in the orange bowl.

i spent most of the hours following the game sopping up as much online gravy as i could. suffice to say, my favorite aggregator did all that for me the morning after.

here's one from one of my favorite college football bloggers at the pre-snap read that posted after the smoking musket's compilation.

(it's sweet; a great appreciation of this year's team from an objective observer.)

and this, from the daily mail's sports editor is worth a read because my buddy jack has seen so much that his astonishment means so much more.

of course, possibly my favorite commentary wasn't from a sports writer. it came from our graphic artist.

"now, you know i'm not a wvu fan," he said to me. (for a marshall grad, that's putting it mildly.) "but what they did in that game was impressive."

when your critics take note, you know you've done well.

eat and sleep

eat and sleep, a photo by grumpnet on Flickr.

two weeks in, the girl's gotten pretty good at the baby thing.

with mama and the boy out running errands, daddy's happy to have some time to bond with baby no. 2 and pass along some knowledge.

the food of love

this was the last meal kris and i had for 2011, pancit palabok, rice noodles with a chicken-based sauce, one of my mom's specialties.

this was supper for the first night of 2012, baked ham with macaroni and cheese from kris and her mom, with sides of corn bread and hoppin' johns from my sister pamy.

(she learned the dish from her and her husband's stint in oklahoma, where it's served as a traditional new year's dish for luck.)

i'm sure to mom and kris and her mom and pamy, these were simply dishes; to me, though, they were nourishing gifts of their hearts.

something about the holidays always makes me mushy anyway, but for some reason this year they made me especially nostalgic and sentimental.

i was grateful for the wonderful flavors and comfort these meals provided. but what warmed my heart was the love that went into making them.

time squatting

so much to do.

so much to recall.

so much to write.

so much for that.

i've got to quickly jot down in my journal my resolutions for next year, which begins in about, oh, 18 minutes.

tradition!

a week in

so as you can see, the boy is adjusting to his new role as big brother.

and kris and i are adjusting to life as "married, with children." (emphasis on now plural offspring.)

writing at the moment is a luxury, so i've had to resort to the micro-blog, something i can do as i try to take in what's become an even more precious commodity: sleep.

which means i'm having to eat my words or something and say i've activated the twitter account i've been squatting on for the past year or so ...

i've got the first day home with the girl documented, along with subsequent updates -- including the boy's reaction to sharing space with his new housemate.

we'll see how long i can abide this twittering supplement to the blog.