Benjamin Baby

The many moods of our baby Ben (with guest appearances by Snoop the cat and Kurt)…

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Ben’s first snow! Kurt and I were manic with excitement to get Ben all bundled up and experience the elements. Ben was… less than impressed. His facial expressions veered from deeply bored to simply annoyed (”Seriously, mom and dad, you dragged me out here for a photo op? It is WARM in the house. I am soooo gonna keep you two awake all night for this…”).

Happily, he was far more pleased with the awesome Baby Gaga onesie we bought him. Fierce modeling photos are below the cut…

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In the past 48 hours I have managed to make the worst dinner ever created by a human, kill our laptop by spilling copious amounts of breast milk into the keyboard (it’s better not to ask exactly how that happened), knock our thermostat off the wall and get a sock trapped in our washer’s pump, effectively putting it out of commission. It’s a miracle Ben’s alive, really. Could I be any klutzier? What’s the opposite of the Midas touch? The Sarah touch? Sheesh! Anyway, as of right now, I’ve managed to not hurt Ben in anyway (the night is young, though) and he remains as cute as ever. Below are some photos of him graduating to his high chair (and wearing a cool Beatles bib courtesy of Uncle Karl and Aunt Sarah), hanging out in his Hugh Hefner pj’s with his Aunt Sandy (who normally doesn’t walk around with baby vomit on her shirt, honestly) and modeling his cool new shoes.

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Only when it became apparent that Barack Obama would become our next president could I even think of getting pregnant. I mean, seeing George Bush’s pinched face on TV isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac and I wanted Ben to be born in a country with a smart, sane president. Luckily he was. So guess who wrote to Ben?

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As mentioned before, Ben’s nose is turning a disturbing shade of orange from all the carrots and sweet potatoes he’s been eating. Something about our camera’s flash accents it like crazy. This, added to the fact that he’s recently rediscovered his tongue, makes for some ridiculous photos…

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Thank god Kurt came into my life or else I would definitely have been one of those crazy cat ladies whose dead body is only found after the stench starts annoying the neighbors. I can see it now: the cops come in to find shoulder-high piles of dusty Duran Duran memorabilia, discarded jars of Nutella and cat feces everywhere only to see my Converse-clad feet sticking out from under a tower of Saul Bellow books…

We have four cats (one more and we would be forced to have a kennel permit. Really). Two were adopted on purpose, one was found on the street and the last one, Snoop, was given to us by a friend who said, “There’s this gray kitten who keeps showing up on my doorstep. Either you can adopt her or I’ll take her to the pound where she’ll probably be euthanized…” . Oy. We wondered how the cats would react to Ben. Would they patiently stand in line to suffocate him or do it all at once?  It was bound to end in disaster, yes? Luckily, they were utterly wonderful, particularly Snoop. When Ben cries, she hops in the crib and nervously circles him. She doesn’t mind when he grabs at her legs. And she thinks that all of his belongings (toys, chairs, changing table etc) are hers. Below are some examples of her enjoying her Ben’s things (along with some of the little man himself). Read more…