Tuesday, July 29, 2008

One Month Check-in

Yesterday, I took Liam for his one-month doctor's appointment. As we expected, he is doing splendidly.

Liam currently is:
9 pounds 7 ounces (without a poopy diaper)
20.75 inches
17 cm head circumference

He can already lift head at a 90 degree angle, make eye contact and follow the sound of either Mommy or Daddy's voice.

His likes:
Laying on Mommy and Daddy
Kisses on the tummy
Napping
Watching the Cubs -- especially when they win!
Staring at his crib mobile

His dislikes:
Laying on his back
Getting strapped into his car seat
Having clothes go over his head
Gas! And I don't me the kind at the pump.

I estimate that he has gone through 450 diapers and 675 wipes in his first month of life. Believe me, the fact that boys don't potty train until they are 2.5 to 3 years old is weighing heavily on me right now.

Out of town visitor

Mommy's high school friend Jennifer came to visit us during my second week home. She brought along her daughter Emma. Can you believe this chick is only 7 months older than I am? Well, I can't!

To be honest, I was experiencing a bit of a Napoleon complex that day. I'll just have to eat more and bulk up before the next time that I meet Miss Emma. I guess I'll need to start demanding more supply from Mommy. Oh, Emma did tell me that there is a world of great tastes beyond milk. But Mommy put her foot down again on experimenting with solid foods.

Miss Emma lives in Orlando -- which I have learned is home to Disney World. I don't know what this world of Disney is yet, but I hear it's the happiest place on Earth. I'm certainly willing to give that a try. Hey Mom when will I be big enough to go to Disney World?

Booked and Processed

Looks like I somehow got myself in trouble again.

First I escaped the jail that they call a hospital. Then I experienced something called being grounded. Now they are actually fingerprinting me for future wrongdoings. Not fair.

Ha! Well, I am not going to make this easy on them. They don't call me squirmy monkey for nothing.

The authorities might have captured my feet really well. But what good will that do them -- I can't even walk yet. My goal is to ensure that they have no record of my fingerprints.

I did it! See the mess I made. They will never be able to pin a thing on me with prints like that. When in doubt always blame the cats -- that's what I say.

Hmmm... I hope this silver ink comes off or they are going to start calling me the Tin Man.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Grandfathers are cool too!

Pop Pop don't look so surprised! I learned how to let one rip from you. Heck, everybody else in the room thinks that you are the one who farted. They couldn't possibly think something that loud came out of something so small!

Hanging out with Pop Pop is a lot of fun. He tells bad jokes and watches a lot of television. He talks a lot about baseball -- a sport that I am quite familiar.

I have another grandfather too! He drove many miles to hang out with me. He even offered me my first sip of beer -- but Mommy put the kibosh on that. Damn woman -- she thinks her milk is the only game in town. Doesn't she know that monopolies are just un-American! Well, I'll teach her... I'll show her the effects of Supply and Demand.

Anyway, this post is about my grandfathers. Did you know that it's in grandpa DNA to like Law & Order. No really, both Pop Pop Roger and Grandpa Dave seem to watch it all the time. Seriously, I think Dick Wolf has them under some kind of spell. No matter how darn cute I looked they both had to know who killed the girl...or whatever the case was about...by the end of the hour.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Grounded

Sorry for my delay in posting. Apparently, I lost my Internet privileges!

Something about not respecting Mommy's basic rights to eat, sleep and shower.

But don't worry, I'm back and ready to share my musings with you. And I don't expect to be grounded again any time soon. Why, you ask. Simple. Mommy is no match to my smiles. By simply making a few sheep or goat noises I can break down her defenses and turn her into putty in my hands:)

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Grandma's Coming to Town

Today I found out the sweetest thing... I have two grandmas! Yup, two people whose sole purpose is to spoil me rotten.
How cool is that?!?!

In the morning, Grammy Kathy came over to help Mommy prepare for Grandma Carol's visit. I've been told that Grammy Kathy lives locally -- whatever that means. While Grandma Carol lives in Indiana. I don't know my geography yet but that sounds far away.

Before Grammy Kathy could do any work, I suckered her into holding me. As you can tell, I love to be held by my Grammy. She sings and rocks me back-and-forth. It's very soothing.

Daddy returned from picking Grandma Carol up at the airport. She was SO excited to see me. Daddy warned me that Grandma Carol is a "baby hog" -- I don't know what that is, but it doesn't sound good.

The good news is that a baby hog is someone who likes to hold and play with me. I like baby hogs!

Unfortunately, this baby hog needed to work on her diapering skills. Apparently, Grandma Carol had never experienced a squirmy monkey. She was an easy target for my poop canon:)

It's my birthday!!!


Not only was July 1 the first day of a new month, but it was also my one-week birthday! To celebrate Mommy and Daddy got me dressed for my first play date. Yup, one-week old and I already have a girlfriend -- two actually!! Mommy and Daddy tell me that I'm growing up too fast. But I can't help it. My shirt says it all... I'm a chick magnet.

Older women are the best. Of course, when you are one-week old, there aren't too many younger women from which to choose. As you can tell, I'm making a play for the older one. Ella is almost three months old! Now, that's what I call experienced;) Of course, Clare is really cute too! Well, I guess I better just play it cool and see which one digs me the most.

That's it... lean up against Ella while looking absolutely adorable. Then while she's not looking, reach out to hold Clare's hand. I really wish that How to Be a Playa handbook I ordered off of Amazon had arrived already.

All that matters is that I had a blast and those two lovely ladies are not going to soon forget Liam Moore!

When I got home, I had to tell Daddy all about my play date. He was most impressed. However, he blamed my lack of action on Mommy's persistent desire to put that god-awful hat on my head. He promised to hide the hat before any future play dates!

Later that night a whole bunch of people came over. They even rolled my bassinet out to the dining room so I could enjoy the festivities. Despite not getting a piece of cake -- or even a smidgen of icing -- I think this was pretty good first birthday!

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Parole visit


After my close escape from the hospital in this sage green contraption, Daddy realized that my second greatest asset in my escape arsenal -- my small size -- needed to be neutralized. Alas, he used several of my blankets to wedge me in the seat.

I struggled as much as I could to prevent Daddy from locking me into this contraption, but strangely I had no power to prevent him from strapping me in. High on my list of priorities will be mobility research and a strength training regimen so I can effectively resist further indignities.

After being strapped in, I asked if I could drive, but Mommy made simpering noises and began snapping these blackmail photographs.

To make matters even worse, Daddy also added a blanket on top of my head. Joy. At least he finally realized that the family jewels were in danger of some serious chafing and added a crotch blanket. If you haven't kept count, that's FOUR blankets to one baby. Daddy may be a little slow sometimes, but damn if he didn't lock me in tight.

By the way, if I hear one more "Napoleon-complex" comment, you're going on the poopy-list. Suffice to say, you won't enjoy my vengeance. Which I might add is a dish served warm, rather than cold. Make of that what you will.

Speaking of cold. The air outside here in the DC-area is not. Again, the heat and humidity immediately knocked me out. When I came to, I was in a freezing place with children running around screaming. An ominous sign. At least there were parents cooing at me.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

Kids.

Other Parents.

Crap! I've been BETRAYED!!!

Mommy and Daddy have taken me to the Doctor's office. I was weighed, measured, poked, prodded and the obsessive compulsive medical professionals took my temperature. It would serve you right if it was low since you took off all my clothes. I turned red with embarrassment. All was well with my health -- even my temperature. If anyone would have listened to me, they would have known I was fine without the pokes, prods and cold metal surfaces.

Unfortunately, my weight wasn't back up to my birth weight, so I have to come back next week. FRACK. I tried, again, to make a point -- this time that it was unrealistic to expect me to gain 10 ounces in the three days since my escape from the hospital. But Daddy just looked at me funny and changed my diaper. Sigh.

First Bath

On my second night home, Daddy decided that I needed a bath. He said that I was starting to smell. Since my umbilical cord hadn't fallen off yet, it was a good old-fashioned sponge bath.

I just knew that I wouldn't like this one bit! So I delivered Mommy and Daddy a double poop just beforehand. But Mommy thwarted my objection by actually catching my poop with a wet wipe. Augh!!! My parents are just too smart.

Daddy did a great job cleaning me despite all my squirming. I tried to tell him that little boys are supposed to be dirty, but it just came out "Whaaa... Whaaa... Snuffle... Whaaa!"

Here's a picture of me post-bath. I am clearly contemplating how I will seek my revenge against such torture in the future. I still think the poop cannon idea is a good one. I think I just need to work on my execution.
They'll never see it coming!

Go Cubs!


As I mentioned earlier, I escaped from the hospital on June 27th. Daddy had me dressed up in our favorite team's garb--perhaps as a ruse to fool the evil heel-pricking, temperature-taking nurses from Hell so they could get Mommy and me home.

Daddy took this picture after I heard the news that Nick Swisher took Ryan Dempster deep for a Grand Slam--and a Cubs loss. I was none too pleased. Frankly, I haven't been pleased with the Cubs' offense since my birth. 3-6 since I was born? What is that about.

Daddy says that I need to learn about small sample size distortions. Oh, he also says that I need to temper my expectations since the Cubs have the best record in the National League and are in first place in the Central. I think that is a load of crap. I'm eight days old and even I know the Cubs haven't won the World Series since 1908. ESPN only says it every five frackin' minutes. (Mommy and Daddy let me stay up late to watch Battlestar Galactica last Friday. Yeah!)

Well, maybe when Ramirez, Zambrano and Soriano are back in action, they'll get back to winning lots of games.

Going Home


Mommy and Daddy were super excited to get to take me home. The nurses put me in Mommy's arms, cut off my house arrest anklet and then sped me downstairs where Daddy had the get-away car ready to go.

As they put me in this sage green contraption, a wall of heat and humidity engulfed my body. I tried to fight it, but I was no match to the typical DC summer weather. Within seconds, I fell asleep.

I don't really remember much from the seven-minute trip home. But I think Mommy and Daddy kept saying something about how small I was.

Hospitals Suck


Here I am sleeping in mommy's arms. Sleep did not come easy to neither mommy nor I at the hospital. The nurses kept coming in to check our vitals -- whatever those are. My heal got pricked a bunch of times and it seemed like they were constantly checking my temperature. But I got them back! Unfortunately, mommy says that it was the good nurse who received my pee attack. Oh well, next time I will do more research before assaulting an innocent woman with my only defense.

Taking Over

Last night, some pictures were posted to this blog by some character named "Doug." I don't know who Doug is, but Daddy was playing around with his laptop and some pictures of me. Maybe he sent it to this Doug person? Maybe Daddy has two names? I shall have to investigate this further. In any event, rather than just letting Daddy post whatever pictures he wanted, I took control. It is, after all, my blog.

I told Mommy that she could make posts as well. So far, she hasn't said yes or no. Probably too busy sleeping.

Welcome to the world... and my blog!















So, here's Mommy holding me in the Recovery room. It was cold. They gave me a bath. I don't like baths. They gave me shots. I don't like shots. They put me in this hat. I really don't like this hat. I do like Mommy though. And she really likes me. Plus, she gives me my food, and so, well, I love Mommy.















This is Daddy. He's okay. He generally changes my diapers and stuff like that.