Outtakes

There were far too many to choose just a few, but I think I was able to whittle down the best of the best. Please, enjoy.

What a load of

HORSE$#!%.

I am never taking posed photos of these children again. Never. Again.

Semolina Pilchard

Cormac has brief periods of false lucidity wherein he says things like, "Hey Mom." Sometimes it's just "Mommmmmm." I usually respond with "Hi! How's it going?" Then he barfs on himself.

He's been smiling and chattering with little babyvoice noises recently. I like to encourage him, so I do little dances and sing songs with him when he starts talking. Iris gets in on it and drops that little booty like it's hot. Iris is always down for a dance party, with or without music.

Anyway, today I sat with Cormac on the couch, just chilling out after work and trying to tame his cold/reflux issues, and I swear I'm not making this up, he said, "coo coo cachoo!" And then he barfed on himself.

The Happy Horker 2011

Cormac had his eight week check up yesterday. After getting all the stats, the doctor left the room to grab a growth chart, then explained that his weight put him in the 13th percentile. I very slowly asked her if she meant that to mean that 87% of the rest of the children his age were larger than he is. She agreed. I then noticed that the chart in her hand indicated that he was in the second percentile at birth. As in, 98% of this nation's children are born at a weight that is greater than 9lbs 11oz. Really. While I let the weight of that extrapolation sink in for her, she started muttering something about the metric system and stupid computers and sort of wandered off again for another 20 - 30 minutes. We might be switching practices soon, just saying.

Anyway, at eight weeks, Cormac is 24.5 inches long, weighs 13lbs 9oz, and has a head circumference of 16.25 inches. His percentile bracket for those groups is 98%, 83%, and 97%, respectively. His weight has always been the lowest percentile.

We also got a prescription for zantac. Cormac doesn't just spit up, be pretty much vomits continuously all day. He has coughing fits and gets the hiccups nearly every time he eats. He arches his back, and is the noisiest, most restless sleeper. He has reflux. So far the meds haven't helped a whole bunch, but I'm not sure if the results are supposed to be immediate or cumulative. I do know that whatever syrup this stuff is suspended in is seriously not tasty. Cormac makes faces every time I try to give him a hit of it, and I can actually smell how terrible it is from where I'm sitting. Finally today I tried a little drop and it is really, truly awful. It's like menthol and dirt and everclear, all wrapped in an eensy little dropper. (O, my word so many inappropriate jokes could be made here. I shall resist...)

Moving along - it would be nice if we could get the horking situation under control. Obviously so that Cormac will be more comfortable and able to actually keep food in his body (not that he's starving or anything), but also because the poor kid lives in a permanent state of swampy dampness. I swear we change his clothes sometimes 10 times a day (not exaggerating at all). Kelly mentioned that it's Christmas Family Photo time (Kelly: Are you going to take dorky photos of the kids in their christmas outfits in front of your tree? Me: Well, honestly the thought hadn't crossed my mind, but I might, if the puking stays to a minimum, but you know, probably not. Kelly: I'll plan on coming over in a couple of weeks to help you pose them and make sure Iris doesn't destroy her outfit or run away or something. You do HAVE christmas outfits for them? Me: Right. Okay!), and it would be really wonderful if Cormac did not destroy his (or hell, EVERYONE ELSE'S) preshus christmas joy costume with the contents of his stomach.

This year will be our first Christmas in the new house, the first Christmas as a family of four (OMG), and now that Iris is old enough, our first chance to really start building some family Christmas traditions. We plan on never moving again, so we're pretty confident that stuff we begin doing now could actually be carried on for years to come. I prefer to let traditions develop organically, but some things are too awesome to be left to the fates, and I plan to guide our little family down the path of righteous bacon consumption as a general christmas morning theme. See me in a few months for tips on all things bacon (casseroles, cinnamon rolls, ice cream, beer, etcetera).

Not that we'd serve bacon beer for Christmas breakfast, mind you. Maybe brunch. But only once everyone at the table is at least old enough to open their own beer. Tradition!