Thursday, January 27, 2011

Caedmon at Four Months

Caedmon had his four month well-baby check-up this morning. 

Unlike his appointment at two months, he was very well-behaved, smiling and staring up at the doctor the entire time she checked him out.  He now weighs 16 lbs, 12 oz (90th percentile), and is 27 inches long (99th percentile).  He's gained 3lbs, 6oz, and grown 4 1/2 inches in two months.  Adelaide, at four months, was half an inch shorter and half a pound heavier, and Atticus was half an inch shorter and a full pound heavier.  This might lead you to believe he's a long, skinny baby, but seeing his thighs would show you otherwise.  The doc seemed to enjoy squeezing his chunky limbs and saying, "Lots of good, healthy baby fat here!"  She also placed her thumbs in his fists and let him pull himself up to a sitting and then standing position, and said strength-wise, he's more like a six-month-old than a four-month-old, because he's so steady.  Next she rolled him over onto his belly, and was pleased that he's using his hands to lift his chest up.  I told her that he's still spitting up a lot, but she said that since he's obviously growing at a rapid rate, it's nothing to worry about.  He got two shots in the aforementioned chubby thighs, which made him scream for all of about thirty seconds.  He then seemed to forget why he was crying and went back to chewing on my shoulder. 

Atticus distracted himself during the exam by struggling with the handle of the door and trying (with much loud and vigorous grunting and straining) to pull open the door to the exam room, which prompted the doctor to comment, "I've never understood why they make those doors so darn heavy.  I guess now I know."  He never managed to get the door open, but did get two stickers for his efforts.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Old Scratch

Explaining things to children is difficult.

Today Adelaide asked me, "What is the Devil?" 


Me: "Well, he's a guy who-"  Wait, wait, that's not right.  He's not a guy, as in a man, as in a human being at all.
"See, he's a fallen angel-"

A:  "Where did he fall from?"

Me:  "He fell from heaven-"


Me:  "No, no, I didn't actually mean he fell out of heaven, what I meant was that he fell from grace, I mean, he wanted to be more powerful than God, er, didn't want to worship God anymore, okay, I mean, um..."

So we pulled out the Bible and read a passage about Lucifer.  She seems to kind of get it now, but I'm really not sure how great of an explanation I gave, in part because all I could think about throughout this whole conversation was Ed the Cat and Harry Potter Price. 

I think most of us are familiar with the verse about "our enemy, the Devil, prowling around like a lion, seeking to devour us." (I'm paraphrasing here.)

And I'm thinking about my mom's cat, Ed, and how is he kind of like the Devil. (And no, sisters of mine, he's not the Devil, I don't care what you say.) 

See, quite a few years ago, we had this hamster, Harry Potter Price.  He was a sweet little thing, all fluffy and fat.  He lived in a big old fish tank we had, and Ed would frequently sleep cuddled up next to the outside of the tank.  It was pretty cute- the orange cat Ed snoozing on the outside, the orange hamster Harry snoozing on the inside.  They seemed to live together in relative peace and harmony.

What we didn't know was that Ed had an agenda.  He was lulling us into a false sense of security.  How he must have laughed at us:  "Those naive humans I permit to live with me in my house.  Look at them, aawwing over me and that scrumptious morsel in the tank.  What they don't know is that I'm totally into delayed gratification, and someday that hamster is in the for the surprise of his short little life." 

Or maybe he just got really hungry one day. 

Anyway, I believe it was my youngest sister Stephanie (who was probably all of about eight or nine years old at the time) who, going down to the basement, probably to play Barbies or some other innocuous playtime activity, discovered the carnage.

Harry Potter Price, out of his tank, on the floor.  Headless.  Bloodstains on the carpet. 

Somewhere Ed was licking his chops and laughing.
Just like the Devil must laugh after successfully tempting some poor unsuspecting human.

I did not tell Adelaide this story during our Devil Discussion.  She's scared enough of Ed as it is.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


    Derek will be in Florida for the next few days, enjoying several rounds of golf with some old ESPN buddies, Disney World, and warmer temperatures.  They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I don't think Atticus and Adelaide could be any fonder of their Daddy.  Normally Atticus asks several times a day, "Where's Daddy?"  just to have me reassure him, "Daddy's at work.  He'll be home tonight."  Today, however, Atticus has taken to carrying around his plastic golf clubs, whacking at random objects (toys, walls, Adelaide), and saying, "I go golf with Daddy in Florida."  Adelaide prefers to chant the days that Daddy will be gone, and remind me over and over, "Daddy's going to come check on me in bed as soon as he gets home.  Even before he eats."  It's hard to tell how much Caedmon takes in, but he's still pretty solidly in his Mommy stage.  If he's anything like his siblings, this will last for a few more months, then he'll slowly but surely make his way over to Camp Daddy, where there is always lots of squealing, being hung upside-down, football, and general fun.

"Say cheese!"

"Okay, serious faces!"

"Now silly faces!"  (Atticus doesn't really take direction well at this age.)

The brainwashing begins early at our house:  Derek reading a book to the boys about football while simultaneously watching football.

And Caedmon is pretty happy most of the time...

...except when he's not.