I Need 7 Hands

"I'm too sexy for my cape!"

Jacob was really well behaved at my two week check up so, as promised (honestly, is it even possible to parent without bribery?), I took him to McDonald's afterward. Yes. I already know-- I'm a horrible parent for feeding my kid McDonalds. He will probably grow a third nipple from eating the pink mcnugget glue.

Anyway, this was Ryan's first trip to McDonald's- now THAT'S something to write in the baby book! Jacob finished his nuggets and apple slices and so I turned him loose to play in the fecal infested, toe-fungus covered playland. I'm so winning a parenting award today!

Enjoying the relative quiet, I pulled out the steak and blue cheese spinach salad that I had smuggled in my diaper bag from the hospital cafeteria (it's a sad day when you prefer hospital food to McDonalds) and was FINALLY getting the chance to eat. I was starving. The steak on my salad was still warm. And the vinaigrette dressing was oozing deliciously from under the pile of spinach. I was just about to dig in when Ryan began to fuss for his own food. I tried rocking his carseat with my foot. Fail. I tried plugging in his pacifier. Fail. Ryan's crying was starting to draw people's attention to us and, particularly, my suspiciously unsanctioned salad. So I put down my fork, and set myself up to feed Ryan (can I just say that I LOVE my Bebe au lait nursing cover? It's magical. I only flashed the one old guy in the corner).

We were finally getting situated. Ryan had only drippled half an ounce of milk down my shirt when all of a sudden Jacob comes running out of the playland, screaming from across the room, "MOMMY, I HAVE TO POOP!! I HAVE TO POOP NOW!" He was doing his poop-holding dance and everything. So much for being discrete. Oh and perfect timing, kid!

I put Ryan down, which triggered more screaming. I awkwardly disassembled all my nursing stuff, packed up the diaper bag, got Jacob to put his shoes on and we made a bee-line for the bathroom, with me looking back longingly at my delicous salad. Thankfully we went into the Women's bathroom this time... and we just barely made it.

As I was helping Jacob wipe his butt (this is by far, the most disgusting parental chore EVER), fussy Ryan let out a huge, wet toot. It was so loud that it startled him. He about jolted out of his carseat which made him cry even louder. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the air and I knew, I JUST KNEW, he had a blow-out. So with one hand, I wiped Jacob's bottom. With my other hand, I grabbed a burp cloth and tried my best to contain the Ryan poo situation. In the middle of doing this, Ryan's pacifier fell out of my pocket and landed on the bathroom floor. DIS-GUSTING. I debated whether to try to clean it later or just throw it away. Either way, my parenting crutch is gone for the day and I have to actually pay attention to my baby.

After both kids were cleaned up (an eternity later), we headed back to our table. After managing the Bodily Function Disasters, I had almost totally lost my appetite. The steak on my salad was cold. The spinach looked soggy from the dressing. But it didn't really matter because I still had to feed Ryan anyway.

20 minutes later (and zero flashings later!), Ryan is fed and is snoozing in his carseat. Not one to waste a $6 salad, I turn to the plate of cold steak and soggy spinach and shovel it mechanically into my mouth. Yay....not. I'm just about to give Jacob the dreaded Five-Minute-Warning when I see him dragging a troop of children out of the playland. What on earth are they doing?

"Come here!" Jacob exclaims to his six new friends who are waddlig behind him like ducklings. "I want to SHOW YOU SOMETHING," he says as he throws his hands in the air. I watch with amusement as he leads his friends over to us. Then he pulls back the cover on Ryan's carseat and points to Ryan's now-sleeping face. "Look!" He exclaims. "This is our baby! He likes to spit up!" How's that for an introduction?

Jacob was just so proud to show Ryan off. My heart completely melted onto the floor. Some of the kids seemed interested (the girls mostly) while the others shot him a look as if to say, "you interrupted Hot Lava Monster for a boring sleeping BABY?!" (the boys mostly).
"Goo" Ryan said. Then Jacob reached over and patted his head.

And THAT magical sibling moment was worth all the spit-up, accidental flashings, poo, and spoiled $6 salads in the entire world!

P.S.: We set up our tri-pod and took our first family photos!

A Day At The Beach

Living with a toddler, I'm guessing, is much similar to living with a teenager.

Both are messy, obsessed with their boy parts, constantly eating or thinking about eating, skilled in the art of back-talking, AND, can go from Sweet to Trouble in a third of a second. Today was filled with all of the above.

Let's see, after pretending to make rock-pretzels, Jacob decided he needed to actually eat the rocks (can't wait to change THAT diaper- although, he may have downed enough saltwater to grind the rock into sand):



Sandy Cheetos were the perfect way to round out that meal:


Later, Jacob found a nice place to drop his pull-ups. But he had some trouble getting them back on:


At the Big-Toy, Jacob decided to show off his amazing sliding skills to his new lady-friend:


He kept racing her to the bottom of the slide and yelling, "I win you! I win you!" Quite the charmer. But really, we all know the little girl's pants were slowing her down. Jacob was free from all that extra fabric.


When he wasn't throwing rocks at me or doing the exact opposite of what I was asking him to do, he showed some streaks of the old Jacob sweetness that I miss.



Plus, it's pretty hard to keep up your reputation as a class-1 trouble maker when you are wearing a big floppy hat.

Hey Batter Batter

Jacob is my little baseball player. He loves to play ball with his dad. And he absolutely cannot play baseball without his new Mariner's hat. Plus, he already has a baseball player's name: "Jacob Palmer."

The problem: I think he inherited my hand-eye coordination. And my batter's stance. And my problems with balance. At least he will never have to learn to walk in heels. And he's got a pretty mean swing (and by "swing" I mean "full-bodied twirl"-- see 0:26).

Note: real baseball players don't need pants.

Snips And Snails

Jacob is two. Almost three. He is your typical toddler boy. He is opinionated. He is adventurous. He is ridiculously cute. He is Trouble.

Today we went an an impromptu morning trip to the park. I packed up our bag and we headed out on a nice walk. Jacob wanted to ride his scooter. For two blocks. Then he wanted me to carry it so he could chase a squirrel.



Then he wanted me to carry his scooter so he could sit on a rock.



Then he wanted me to carry his scooter so he could poke a snail. He quickly lost interest in playing with the snail and insisted that I let him take pictures of the snail instead. Exhibit 1:



15 minutes and 32 photos of Jacob's thumb later, we finally arrived at the park. Little did I know, the snail had also arrived at the park, via a toddler boy's pocket. (Luckily I was spared that discovery until pieces of snail shell tumbled out of his pocket during a potty break.)

Jacob went down the slide just a couple times before he spied some unsuspecting seagulls. No creature is safe, I swear. We chased seagulls all the way to the "ice cream store." That's when Jacob loudly proclaimed that he was "very thirsty" and "could we please get some water at the ice cream store?" I'm certain the entire thing was a ploy so that I would buy him a treat.

As soon as we entered the "ice cream store," Jacob looked up sweetly at me and said, "Can I have a treat?" What did I tell you? Do I know this kid or what?

I looked back down at him and asked, "What's the magic word?"

He thought for a second. His eyes lit up. And he said, "Abra-ca-dabra!"