The Public Clamors For News!

So, my faithful friend Susie asked for some baby stories. Because, shout for joy, I have stories to tell! THE BABY'S HERE! James Owen is actually a whole month old and I have not posted once since his emergence.

But I've got the stories! Yep, they're ALL right up here (taps noggin). ...And they're fading fast due to sleep deprivation!

Actually, it's not that bad. I'm just tired. Tired, tired, tired. And a little addled/ mentally impaired much of the time. I put my contacts into the opposite vials (R to L, etc) the other day and didn't figure it out until I put them back in and couldn't see straight. I tried to brush my hair with the BACK SIDE of a brush and seriously wondered, "What happened to the bristles!?" I've mysteriously lost two rings that hold nipples on bottles (we've looked everywhere; did I throw them away?), and I once completely forgot to offer Miles breakfast before school. (My car console now holds granola bars just for slow-brain days.)

I've been trying to post for several days now, but this was the week I started working again, and Owen doesn't sleep much during the daylight hours, so I've had my hands full.

But here are a few amusing moments that stand out as I sit here typing...

I. Proof that 5-year-old Boys CAN pay attention.

The setting: Sometime during Week One.

The Mama, in baby’s room, is trying to soothe some crankiness on the verge of crying. Miles, in the adjacent bedroom, appears to be in a world of his own making, where Jango Fett is the hero of an epic Star Wars battle being raged across a vast, messy swath of carpet.

Me: “I think we should change you, Owen. What will I find, do you think? Just pee or poop?”

A crystal clear, raised voice from another room: “I VOTE POO!”

II. A Little Dose of Sugar 'n Spice...

Owen & I went to Miles’ school for lunch this past week. It was a big outing for O, who is generally a perfect specimen in public places… but who has never experienced anything like the eardrum-piercing cacophony that is an elementary school cafeteria.

Come to find out, there’s an outdoor picnic table area where parents can take their kids. And there are ALWAYS parents on campus for lunch -- about 5 pairs when we showed up. Once we settled in, another kindergarten student (a girl who incidentally knew Miles’ name but whom he claimed not to recognize) moved from her table across the patio, next to us.

She was SUCH a cute little wisp of a thing! Olive skin and black hair cut pixie style with straight bangs and swinging straight sides. Bright, dark eyes and small, delicate features.

The Cute Girl says: “Hi, Miles!”

(No response from the boy except to look down and frown slightly.)

CG: “I like that little baby you have.”

Me: “Hi. That’s Miles’ baby brother, Owen.”

CG: “I LIKE that cute little baby brother. Miles: I LIKE your cute little baby brother!”

Me: “You should ask Miles how he likes Owen, because Miles has to hear him cry every night.”

CG: “Miles: Do YOU like your cute little baby brother?”

Miles: “Well…a little.”

CG: “Well, I like him A LOT! A LOT! Because he’s cute. He looks like my baby sister, when she was a baby.

(Ed Note: Which is a sweet, sweet sentiment, but can’t be all that true as Owen is completely, unfortunately fair skinned and bald except for some golden-red wisps on the sides and back. Plus he has baby acne and huge blue eyes. I don’t think dark-skinned babies like this darling girl come out looking like tiny old Irish men with a rosacea.)

…But now she’s three, and she looks just like me.”

Me: “That’s good. I bet she’s a very nice, cute girl.”

CG: “Miles, I sure like your cute baby...”

Oh, girls of the world: Thanks be for you, sweet things -- and please keep trying with that Miles! He'll appreciate you talking to him so much more later.

...I wonder if I'll get lunch visits during middle school?

III. A Bit of Earthy Theology, or Miles' Ode to 21st Century Technology.

So Miles and I were working on a drawing project for church – kid art to be included in this year’s Advent devotional booklet. I showed him last year’s book, which used stock clip art, as a comparison. This conversation ensued…

Me: So, where we have grown-up art in last year’s book, we want kid art for this year’s book

M: Look! It’s little baby Jesus. (Rubs one sweaty finger, reverently, I hope, over the image of Madonna and child.) And he’s… (looks down at sleeping baby in Moses basket beside table) he’s just about the same size as Owen!

Me: Yeah, I guess he is. Hey, Miles, do you think baby Jesus cried?

M: Yep. I’m sure. Probably more than Owen because, back then, they didn’t have anything to take care of babies.

Me: What do you mean -- like, pacifiers?

Miles: Uhm-hum. And toys with batteries. And they couldn’t even change his dirty diapers – because they didn’t even HAVE diapers!

Me: No, you’re right. That’s why the Bible says Jesus was wrapped in swaddling clothes when he was laid in the manger.

Miles: What’s that?

Me: Strips of cloth, or white fabric sort of like our cleaning rags.

Miles: That’s GOTTA hurt! Now I KNOW he cried more than Owen!