Yeah, it’s a bit early for a Halloween costume but Ben just had to try on the adorable monkey outfit that his Aunt Sandy bought him. All was going well until I decided that he also needed a black monkey nose (see last photo)…
Ben was a little fussy yesterday. Most of you reading this will probably think, “Well, duh. He’s a baby. That’s what they do.” But, honestly, this is a rare occurrence for him. (That’s the truth, too. I’m not one of these parents who claim that their children are perfect. Ben’s not. For example, he can’t even read yet. Lazy kid…) While trying to determine what had him so annoyed, it dawned on me: It was his 3 month birthday! He’s simply full of existential angst, weary of this mortal coil, fighting against the inexorable march towards certain nothingness… or maybe it was because he pooped out of his diaper. Could be either one, really.
Every parenting book I’ve read advises you not to compare your kid with other kids. I appreciate this advice, but Sarah and I have decided to ignore it because we want Ben to turn out
Spencer Tweedy is son of Jeff Tweedy. Jeff Tweedy, of course, is Jesus. Jeff Tweedy is also the lead singer of Wilco, but that’s just a side project to being Jesus.
Today marks the end of my first official week as a stay-at-home mom (in order to get severance pay at my job I had to work for 2 weeks post-maternity leave. In that time, Ben was expertly taken care of by Kurt, my sister Sandra [with an assist from Shelley] and some friendly hobo I met who enthusiastically offered his babysitting services [what does a teardrop tattoo under your eye mean, anyway?]). Nobody is more surprised by this next sentence than I am: I am loving every minute of it. Me, who never wanted kids, whose idea of a good time is to stay out until 3am at a gay club, who never even changed a diaper before. I’m sure stranger things have happened although none spring immediately to mind.