Sanctus Pactricius

Kiss me, I'm Irish... or at least we're going to fake it for a day.

party pooper

We had an early birthday party for baby while the Dorks were here. I made heart-shaped chocolate cupcakes in silicone sleeves with pink frosting and sprinkles. They were moist and yummy, although didn't come out of the sleeves without a fork. Baby appropriately smashed cake and frosting all over herself and The Hater and myself. It was fun and she won herself an afternoon bath.

After we lotioned and changed clothes I wanted to get a few pictures of her and the dorks wearing their party hats. Mom was initially holding her, but Dad took her as I grabbed the camera. As they put on their hats and adjusted, Dad said, "I think someone smells like poopy." Mom looked over and started laughing. Not only had she poopy'd, but she'd errupted poopy all overherself and him.

I held her out under her armpits and took her to change again. Mom came with me to help. We both were crying because we were laughing so hard. Dad went directly to the bathroom to wash up and douce himself with astringent.

It's been a birthday party to remember and a very memorable visit.

playing with the dorks

The Dorks are here! Baby has been so excited for all the extra attention, especially after she figured out that they weren't going to eat her.

Big Dork has created a house for her out of a cardboard box. I think we're more excited about it than she is, but she'll grow into it.

Big Dork and Little Dork have both read a ton of books to her, most of them multiple times.

She's now down for a nap. I'm trying to ease her into the time change. I thought it was going well, and then she woke up crazy early this morning. I tried for a little while to get her back to sleep, but then decided it was a great opportunity to further convert to DST, so we've been up since about 5 am.

I'm glad to report that last night was the first night in five where baby didn't have explosive poopy everywhere on her and in the crib. In fact, yesterday we only had one explosive diaper which conveniently happened right before her bath. I'm certain this is all teeth-related poopy because she's been fussy and chewing on her fingers like George Burns gnawed on a cigar. Although it's three days after when I had very good intentions to post a poopy everywhere story, here it is, somewhat belated:

Baby woke up a few times in the night and whined, but not with the whine that something was majorly wrong that I needed to fix. After I took my shower I went to wake her up. As soon as I opened her door I was punched with the smell of vomit. I turned the light on very dim and asked her if she had gotten sick. By now she was pulling up to stand in the crib, very happy baby babbling. I turned the light up a little bit more and picked her up. She reeked of vomit. I reached down to feel her bed. Sure enough, there was a damp spot. I held her, who was happy mind you, and went to get The Hater; this was more of a mess that I could do by myself. I told him she'd thrown up on everything and I needed his help to clean her and the bed up. He got up immediately to help. I put her on the changing table and noticed there was vomit all over her sleeper, even on the feet of it. I turned up the lights to normal and unbuttoned her sleeper to find that, indeed, this was not vomit we were dealing with. This was poopy. She'd had diarrhea at day care on Monday and Tuesday, too. (These damn teeth coming in!) The Hater took everything to the washing machine. I put baby in the sink and gave her a quick bath. She reeked of vomit-smelling poopy. She smelled much better after her bath. I hope she's not a poopy monster today at day care. Incidentally, last night one of the baby foods I gave her was broccoli and carrots. And this morning she had chunks of both in her diaper! Lovely!

Here's hoping that we have another wonderful day without an eventful poopy story.

buffet

There's nothing like grazing under the table for all the little bits of goodness that we threw into the floor during supper...

an excellent day

cha-cha-cha-chia baby

Baby was born with lots of long, dark hair. Then it all fell out and she was peach fuzz baby for a while with a dark rat-tail that we called her "soul patch". Then it was blonde. Now people say, "Oh, your baby is blonde?", not knowing that both The Hater and I spent our first several years with blonde hair, halfway looking at us like we stole this baby from someone else more worthy of blonde hair.

These pictures aren't great, but as time moves on and her hair continues to grow, now it looks like it's going to curl. You can especially see this at the bottom of the first picture. My hair isn't curly, but Dad's is. The Hater has never had his hair long enough to know if it'd curl, but his brother grew his hair long and it was curly. Perhaps baby has hit the jackpot with two recessive genes? Only more time will tell. Hopefully at the least this means she'll grow into hair full of body.

And, no, you don't have to worry. I already have a bottle of detangler on hand for when we need it. That's one of those magical things that they should've had when I was younger. I want to avoid jerking out tangles with a fine toothed comb while muttering "beauty must suffer pain" to my daughter. That's one buck that will stop here.