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?
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…
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…
Initially, I was a bit confused when others would ask what Kurt and I bought Ben for Christmas. Bought? He’s 6 months old. A fancy wrapped gift would be lost on him. I can hide one of his toys behind my back, pull it back out again 30 seconds later and the kid thinks it’s is brand new and the most exciting thing ever. Besides, we give him food, shelter, love… isn’t that enough?
No.
So we got him Fisher-Price’s Happy Baby Deathtrap Leap-a-roo Distraco 3000 or whatever the hell it’s called. Miraculously, I was able to assemble it with a minimum of cursing and bloodshed. He kid LOVES it. Below are photos of him entranced by it all…
P.S. Ben says happy new year to all of his blog friends!
Ben has been traveling quite a bit this week, meeting with members of his growing fan club. At this pace, I’m going to be forced to hire a social secretary for him.
The first stop in his Cutest Baby Ever World Tour was in Virginia Beach where he had a lunch date with his cousin Pam. She is the one fully responsible for getting me shamelessly addicted to Duran Duran way back in 1983. It was only appropriate that he wear his Duran Duran shirt (cue “The Circle of Life” someone!). Ben immediately fell in love with her. After that, we took a pit stop to see his Aunt Sandy at work. He was a big hit with her awesome co-workers and even had a few marriage proposals.
Then it was on the road to Richmond to see his grandparents. They hate Ben. Kidding, of course. They, too, cannot resist his 6 month old charms. He was showered with a ton of fantastic presents and had a fun time.
Finally, his aunts came over on Christmas Eve for food, drinks and even more gifts. Although a bit tired from such a punishing schedule, Ben rallied and was the belle of the ball.
He also started eating solid foods recently and is obsessed with carrots. If you look closely in these photos, you’ll see that the tip of his nose is turning orange from all of the beta carotene. Ha!
Happy holidays!
Here are a bunch of photos Kurt’s uploaded from his iPhone. Do note that the one where Ben is dressed in a hideous combination of stripes is the result of a fashion tragedy that occured when daddy tried to dress him. Honestly, if Kurt and I ever divorce, this picture alone would win me full custody with no visitation rights. Quelle horreur!