charmin' lil man

i've not been on the computer these last coupla days cuz i set the crib up in here and this is one squeakee-ass chair! besides, i wouldn't've really had much time to jump online, or do any writing, cuz jert's lil'st grandbaby was here and he's just such a charmin' lil man that it was hard to tear myself away. i don't usually post pix of children, so no luck for ya. just deal.

jert has much more experience than i do, but even taking that into account, i've come to the conclusion that the mix of my uncoordinated klutziness and a baby's tendency to be a bit mess make for a disasterous feeding frenzy {stewed prunes gave his lips a rather dark garish goth look that was actually kinda cool}. it would've been easier on both of us if i'da just stripped him down to his diaper and fed him sitting in the sink {him, not me; tho that would have been a sight, i'm sure} and then sprayed him down with the lil retractable hose {alas, we do not have one on the kitchen sink...yet}. i did love that he was fine with me poking the spoon of sweet potato mush into his lil gaping mouth and spilling a great deal of it down his onesie, ya know, before i even got the spoon to the destination {that was all on me, and not a bit to do with the fact that he's a baby}. good thing he came with a good portion of his wardrobe.

i'm not familiar with all the mile-markers for babies, or what they generally do by what age. but i can say that i was very impressed that the lil guy slept for twelve hours straight. he's an easy baby, fer sure.

he tolerated {rather graciously, actually} my ineptly toting him around walmart. i kept running into the bathroom and using an amazing amount of damp paper towels, sponging spit-up off him and his clothes and apolozing to him for not being better at this and being somewhat prepared. i told jert that i was afraid i was squeezing the contents of his lil tummy right outta him and onto everything in a twelve foot radius. yeah, those folks at walmartZ are just lovin' me right about now.

thing about spit-up is that his body-tempature is compatible with mine, which means that it usually doesn't register immediately that he spit up...ya know, until the chunky dribbles and drabs run down my arm and off my elbow, dripping to the floor. yeah, i'm that much fun. so if you were in walmartZ this weekend, and saw a woman with a baby squished onto her hip/shoulder/chest, kneeling on the floor, wiping up stuff while muttering apologies to the baby, passing customers, and associates...that'd be me.

nice to me'cha!