April Fool's in Matrix Form

This is why I hate April Fool's

	April Fool's Sad News
		Is it true?
			Yes			No
		Congratulations!			Congratulations!
	Yes	You're a pesimistic ass			You're a gullible ass
Did
you
believe?
		Congratulations!			Congratulations!
	No	You're an insenisitive ass			You're a pretentious ass

	April Fool's Happy News
		Is it true?
			Yes			No
		Congratulations!			Congratulations!
	Yes	You're a pompous ass			You're a gullible ass
Did
you
believe?
		Congratulations!			Congratulations!
	No	You're a cynical ass			You're an arrogant ass

Mall Store Intervention

Sometimes, when you love someone and they are doing something to piss you off destroy themselves, you have to step up and perform an intervention. Typically, this is in the form of a letter to the interventionee. Here's a sample of mine from a recent trip to the mall:

-Dear Abercrombie & Fitch/Hollister,
You are a festering pustule on the backside of humanity. I say this to you, not out of hate, but out of a deep, unending loathing for you. You offend me on so many levels. First, the outside of your stores looks very similar to a back alley abortion clinic.

Both have lots of shame and clothes hangers.

Second, that"music" you insist on blaring at decibels approaching "permanent hearing loss " levels may serve as some sort of siren call to the throngs of your frequent customers that Urban Dictionary best describes as, "[individuals] who have over-inflated senses of self worth, compounded by a low level of intellegence... [and] no sense of how moronic they appear", but to the average mall shopper it sounds more like a screech owl being fed through a wood chipper.

Third, while I've never actually been inside one of your stores, a quick Google image search reveals that the walls inside which are not covered with painfully over priced douchebag clothes, are covered with imagery that at best could be described as "Greco-Roman" but more resembles "homoerotic". George Michael's bedroom probably has straighter wall hangings than you. I'm fairly certain that the brief glimpse of your advertisements that I got doing the image search was enough to turn me from mostly well-adjusted straight guy to complete homosexual^*.

^*Not how actual homosexuality works. Sorry to break it to you, Rick Santorum.

And your smell. Dear God, your smell. It permeates from you like radiation from a nuclear blast and is probably just as healthy for you. In a recent trip to the local mall in Omaha (we've become pretty familiar with the city lately), the smell from one of your stores managed to not only make us sick as usual, but overpowered the scent from the "Perfume Palace" that is only two stores down from you. When your stank is smellier than the store whose primary purpose IS to smell, you need to reassess you priorities. We feel like we need a shower just walking past you.

A dead skunk, baking in the hot sun for weeks after being doused in garbage juice and killed while suffering a particularly nasty bout of food poisoning would smell so much better than your stench. It can only be described as "distilled essence of concentrated douchebag".

In short, Axe Body Spray.

-Dear Teen/Tween Girl Clothing Store (Delia's, Claire's, etc),
Please stop assaulting me with the neon nuclear explosion that you call clothes. Looking near you is painful. All I want to do is walk past you on my way to the Cinnabon, the two of us ignoring each other. But, you insist on bombarding me with violently neon colors that look like a rainbow dropped acid and vomited all over your store. Tone it down. Your target demographic are already enough of attention whores.



-Dear Dippin' Dots,
You are awesome. I want to have your liquid nitrogen dipped babies.



-Dear Women's Clothing Stores (Limited, Lane Bryant, etc),
Please place in your stores, preferably near the fitting rooms, one (1) bench, chair, or stool for your client's significant others. We are about to be put through some of the roughest 30-45 minutes of our lives:

Clothes Shopping Itinerary

0-9 mins: Pace around store as wife tries on clothes. Desperately try to avoid accidentally looking at intimate section for fear of looking like a filthy pervert.

9-10 mins: Get caught accidentally looking at intimate section and look like a filthy pervert.

10-15 mins: Wife storms out of fitting room, utterly disgusted with herself, the clothes, the world, and life in general.

15-25 mins: Stoney silence. Walk around mall in huff.

25-26 mins: Make comment about the wonderful smell of Cinnabon. Receive icy glare.

26-45 mins: Wife realizes that there is a walking outlet for her rage tethered to her. Take blame. Dream of death.


As you can see, the least you could do is throw us a bench. Doesn't even have to be a comfortable one.


-Dear Dead Sea Salt Hand Scrub Free Sample Person,
The answer is, and will always be, no.


-Dear Food Court Vendor Free Sample Person,
The answer is, and will always be, yes.

-Dear Torrid,
You are a plus sized clothing store. You have four jeans styles in your selection and three of those styles are labeled as "skinny" jeans. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irony

A change.

I think the major problem with this blog, aside from the whole "not writing on it ever" part, is that the scope is way too limited. I feel like just writing about my children (or FOR my children, as the case my be) is just too constricting. So, with that in mind, I give you the new blog format. Less "baby blog", more "whining adult blog". Hopefully, this will keep me more interested in doing this, and the two of you that read this (hi, mom!) will get a kick out of seeing the exploits of Carly, Jack, Sam, Lily, Milton, and me glaring at you in tantalizing black and white on your computer screen. Or not. Totally up to you. I understand if you don't give two flying pig farts about it (and I mean that, mom).

Rest assured that Jack will continue to write frequently, occasionally, not really that often. And you never know, special guests may show up on occasion. In conclusion, when you see that I've posted a new blog, mainly by bombarding Facebook with status updates like some high school aged attention whore, don't expect it to be about babies. You've been warned...

Road Trips, Memphis Beat, and Mr. Potato Head

It seems that my titles have expanded yet again. I am now not only a soon-to-be big brother, but also an older cousin. For those of you that don't know, I'm already a cousin, but a younger one. Now, I have even more responsibilities! It's like they think I'm some sort of robot sent back in time from the future to be extra awesome to all of my relatives, teach them things, help them grow up in the proper manner, and destroy the future leader of the resistance against the machines while he's still young!

With that news on my mind, my parents then proceeded to pack up all of my toys, clothes and food, and put me in the car saying that I had to go meet my new cousin. First, though, Mommy had to do some work for her job that made her stay in a nice hotel and eat for free. And Badger-Face gets to come along too.

And off we went to a place called "Jefferson City" for something Mommy called a "conference". I've never been to the capital of our great state of Missouri before! It was a riveting experience! One of the largest buildings in the city is this giant recreation of a nursing orb. "How metropolitan!", I thought as the homage to my younger days pulled into view. What a big bustling metropolis filled with interesting sights, and even more interesting smells.

Remind me to tell B-F not to park downwind from the trash bins again.

Since the hotel is "pet friendly", the dog managed to come along too. The cat, however, was sequestered to the house for the duration of our trip. I was assured that he would be ok, since he would have a big bowl of water, a big bowl of food, frequent visits from Nonny to check up on him and all the shows he would want to watch on Netflix while we were gone.

The best thing about this particular hotel, however, was the indoor pool! I got to go down and swim in it while Mommy went to her "conference" (which, if I understand correctly, is a place where people sit in a room with strangers trying not to look bored and listen to people talking about selling timeshares or something). Now, I've been swimming before. But, an indoor pool is pretty awesome. Especially when they have a blow up basketball hoop. Daddy taught me how to "dunk the ball" into the hoop which was made far easier for him since gravity stopped being a factor. And the hoop was only a foot high.

After the pool, I demonstrated for Badger-Face my recent mastery of the English language by pointing out letters on the TV can sounding them out correctly. Of course, if you're reading this blog, chances are you deduced that I can not only recognize letters, but put them together to form words, sentences, and a mildly entertaining story. But, he was truly astounded by it. Ah, the gift of a parent's simple laughter...

Once the conferences were over, it was time to get back in the car and head down to Memphis to see my grandparents, uncles and aunts, and my new baby cousin. We did make two stops of note on the way: 1. a place called O'Connell's in St. Louis. I mention this because I had the chance to sample one of the greatest inventions ever created aside from pie. The Gooey Butter Cookie. Imagine, if you will, a confection that closely resembles heaven, if heaven was made out of cream cheese and butter. Then, slap a large amount of powdered sugar on top. Then, take out your awesome stick (I found mine at Sharper Image), and smack it a few times with it. I'm pretty sure this is a portion of the recipe for these cookies.

2. Lambert's in Sykeston. They fling baked goods at you here. Seriously. And they give you a massive balloon while you eat, and not in the gassy sort of way. (OK, maybe that way too) Apparently, only the awesome people get them, since I was one of only a handful that did. I guess if they gave more out, it would impede the "baked good flinging process", which seems the most expedient way to get them from the oven to my mouth.

The way to tell that you are getting close to Lambert's is the appearance of large advertisements on the sides of the road, that Badger-Face tells me are called "Bill's Boards". Bill must have a lot of work to do and money to spend buying them, since there are so many of them. In Memphis proper, Bill has put up some boards for a TV show called "Memphis Beat". She cursed loudly every time that we passed one, because, she says, "they don't actually film in Memphis. They film in New Orleans! Hate you, Memphis Beat!" I think we made that the official rally cry for this trip...

Seeing my baby cousin was very nice. She's a tiny little thing! Mommy said that I was that small once, but I don't believe her. I mean, how could I have contained all of my beefiness in such a small package? But she is adorable, and I don't mind so much that I'm going to have to show her the ropes from time to time. I'm considering it practice for being a big brother. Also, I'm finding it hard to believe that I slept and pooped that much when I was younger...

As an extra bonus on the trip, my awesome uncle Jay (who, like daddy, has some sort of dead animal on his face.) gave me an equally awesome gift: a Mr. Potato Head made to look like someone called R2-D2. Badger-Face reminded me that he's the trash can from that Star Wars movie he's always going on and on and on and on about.

An excellent trip overall. Got to see my grandpa Poppy and grandma Yoda, my aunt Ashley, uncle Jay, cousin Katie, and all of my other family members. I miss you all very much when I am not down there!

Big changes

Right, let's get this out of the way first. I've been busy. Growing. Learning. Getting more awesome. Let's leave it at that.

It seems the biggest change that's happening around Chez West is that my parents tell me I'm going to be a big brother soon. Apparently, this is something to be excited about, according to them. I wasn't sure what all this new job entails and it seemed like such a big deal. I felt like I was going to undertake more than I could handle (dubious, I know, but a guy needs to know his limitations) It was time to ask for help. But, who could I turn to? Who would have all the answers to all of life's burning questions? Where could I find such a massive repository of knowledge and insight about this most critical of questions without judgment? What singular person on this planet could walk me through life's big conundrums and solve all of my major problems? The answer to that was clear:

The Internet.

But, how to get access to it? My plan was as elegant as it was simple: Wait for Badger Face to open his computer, bring him a nice yummy cup of Goldfish crackers (laced with a prescription strength laxative), slip on a gas mask, and wait.

Worked like a charm.

I punched into the friendly search engine on the screen (that will not get mentioned here until they pay me endorsement fees), the words "Big Brother". After an exhaustive search of 2 minutes, I have deduced 2 possible job descriptions:

1. My parents are going to enroll me in a TV reality show, in which I am stuck in a house with 11 douchebags and forced to humiliate myself for cash or,

2. They are going to give me a foster kid to take care of.

As my parenting skills are not quite to the level of child rearing (although I am a professor emeritus in Baby Studies at Harvard), I can only assume that the former is the case.

Just to verify that I heard correctly, I asked the dog what it meant to be a big brother. She told me that he was always watching us, everything we do, at all times. Now, I may be awesome, but that's a little too much responsibility for me. It was then that the bearded one came out of the bathroom, reeking of shame and messy diaper. He asked me if I was ready to have a new baby in the house and be a big brother to it. Then, I understood.

I am to teach this child the ropes. I need to help him not make the mistakes that I have made.

This morning, for instance, I accidentally (and by that I mean on purpose) grabbed the flat iron while it was on. People should warn babies about hot things! There should be a manual!


So, You've Just Been Born: The Newborn's Guide to Your New Life

1. Don't Panic!
2. Hot things are hot!
3. Cold things are cold!
4. Dogs are evil would-be dictators
5. Hot dogs, however, are yummy
6. Crawling may seem like the best means of transport, but walking is much more efficient
7. Been carried, doubly so
8. You like cheese. You always will. Just give in.
9. Yes, they will babble at you like morons until you give them a complete sentence. Better sooner than later.
10. Crapping in your pants is awesome and the toilet is the devil. (It is fun to flush, though)
11. Wake up in the middle of the night often and as loudly as possible. This makes your parents very happy.


It's a work in progress. It'll be hard to compile a list of everything I've learned in these long 19 months, but I think i can do it before the baby comes. Then I simply have to get the list to the baby before it's born so they can be briefed before coming out of Mommy. It'll be tricky, but I think the best way to do it will be to teach him/her Morse code. I must make a list of what to do before the new kid comes to town. Not the New Kids, though. I've already got my tickets.

1. Make list
2. Teach "Cleatus v2.0" Morse code.
3. Finish book
4. Blog more often
5. Rollover 401(k)

A Year In Review

Whew! Has it really been one year since I came into this world? It's been quite a ride. Let's take a look back, shall we? If you're still reading, then let's go!

One year ago today, I was resting comfortably in my wroom (womb room) grading some papers from my Baby Studies class at Harvard, when suddenly INS (calling himself Dr. Burke) comes busting in and deports me into the outside world. Side note, I left some of my papers in my wroom. The students were understandably upset, but not so much as my mom will be in a few years. Sorry, Mom.

It's so hard to believe that this time last year I was introduced to the two people that have made the biggest difference in my life. Without them, I would not be the man I am today, what with my Ph.D. , professorship at Harvard, living large with my big house, five cars, I'm in charge, comin' up in the world, don't trust nobody, gotta look over your shoulder constantly... Sorry, just flew into some Cypress Hill there.

I'm talking about the two most important people in my life to date. Yes, Hall and Oats, your dulcet tones and heartfelt lyrics have gotten me through many a night when my teeth were hurting. Your private eyes are watching me indeed.

But, I would be remiss if I did not mention the other two that have meant so much, Badger-face and Mommy. I love those two guys, and to tell the truth, I think I'm finally getting around to learning their proper names. I had Mommy right, but I think that Badger-face is called "Daddy". I've started saying it around the house and every time I do, the furry one points to himself. So, either his name is Daddy or he has some weird tic that makes him do that every time anyone says Daddy. Like the Pillsbury Dough Boy and his stomach. Or Dan Foglelburg and his awesomeness.

Next, the long difficult road to self-mobility. First, it was rolling around on my back like a turtle, which moved into doing push-ups (not just for mobility, but to stay beefy), then army crawling, and now full-fledged crawling! Not sure where to go from there, but as I see at work with the other kids, it looks like walking may be the next big thing.

A few more teeth have popped up. Hasn't seemed that long ago that I was eating liquid fruit and veggies. Now, I can chew and have moved up to real big boy meals! Long nights and cranky days for me!

Well, I'm tired and I do have work tomorrow. So, I'll close for the evening, but fear not:

Coming soon: Part 2 of my retrospective on my first year!

Unfunny update time!

I realize I'm not as funny as either Jack or Badger-face, but I am a mommy, and that means I have this uncontrollable urge to tell everyone everything I can about my kid. Since Jon and Jack are falling down on the job, I'm going to pick up some of the slack and let y'all know what's been happening around here.

Jack is doing wonderfully. He's mastered the delicate art of army crawling, and is getting into all sorts of mischief. I didn't tell Jon, but he got into the book case and managed to tear a page out of one of Jon's favorite books. It seems that if there's something he's not supposed to get into, he makes a beeline for it, and doesn't give up, even if you drag him back to his toys time after time after time after time... He's a tenacious little bugger. Also, even though he has all of these toys all over the place (and I really do mean ALL OVER THE PLACE), he's completely uninterested. His favorite plaything so far? An empty 7-up bottle.

Lily has mostly gotten over her last bout of seizures. We've changed vets, and I think we found a pretty good fit. She's gotten really clingy, though, and has growled at Jack a few times. We're working on teaching her to walk away, and I think it's starting to work.

I've become a bit obsessed with fixing up/decorating the house. I think I'd be less obsessed if I actually had the funds to carry through with the ideas I have, because all I can do at this point is think about it.

Jon got us a Wii Fit, and I think it's actually doing us some good! Hooray! Of course, Jon is losing about twice as much weight as I am, and I think it's partially because he doesn't really care much about how he looks, and just like with everything, if you want it too much, you don't get it. Awesome!

I think that's all. I'm hoping the "Christmas Update Letter" feel of this post will light a fire under someone and the next post will be from someone funnier than me!

That's all I can think of for now.

Just when you thought it was safe to blog...

You're not getting any old blog this time; no sir, or madam, or pan-dimensional unisex being!

I've got the computer back from Badger-face!

I know he promised that he'd write a two parter. But, let's face it, the guy is boring. He has no pizazz or panache! Now, me, on the other hand...

I have started to become more independent of the hairy guy. It all started when Mommy gave me some small, tasty treats that she called "puffs". I have now mastered the art of picking up these puffs and placing them in my mouth. They have this taste about them of blueberries one day, then sweet potato the next. It's like they are magical! I prefer the blueberry ones personally, but I take what I can get.

Mommy decided that she needed some "time off" this last weekend. Mostly, she needed to get away from Badger-face, and I can understand that. The guy does insist upon himself.

And he smells like bad meat or good cheese most of the time.

So, she and Aunt Sara M and Aunt Laura went to some place called Kirksville this weekend. Most importantly, Aunt Laura made for me some awesome hats! She made me a Viking helmet hat (for looting and pillaging the local thatched roof cottages), a purple strawberry hat (because everyone needs one), and a red devil horn hat (for when Judas Priest comes to town). This moves Aunt Laura up to the top of the Awesome Aunt list.

Your move, other Aunts...

The girls watched a movie called "Cabin Fever" the night before they left. I didn't get to see it, since I was asleep, but I think it is an ode to someone's love of pancakes. The next morning, once Daddy loaded up the car with what seemed like 400 crates of Mommy's "courage juice", we waved goodbye to the girls and began what Daddy called:

The Bachelor's weekend...

It began innocently enough. Daddy and I played around on the floor for a bit, and, in a related story, I'm now able to scooch along on the floor! This means that Doris is getting less and less use as I am now able to terrorize the dog on my own terms. That and explore every single nook and cranny in this entire house. It makes Mommy and Badger-face so pleased.

Anyway, then, the hairy guy then introduced me to the best show I've ever seen. (Yes, better than Battlestar Galactica.) It's about this guy that travels around the a big blue box and helps people. Now, while this may sound like he spiked my bottle with Dimetapp, he tells me that this show is called "Doctor Who". I watched quite a lot of those shows over the weekend since I am now sitting up on my own (another bid to escape him and his hirsute face), and it's a fun show! (he paid me a lot of blueberry puffs to say that. I might be a bit brainwashed.)

Now, he watched these shows by waving this wand around and pointing it at the TV. He did this frequently throughout the weekend. My favorite part of this was when he did this and the little man on the TV hit the ball with the stick. He told me that he was playing "golf", but he looked like a whale that had had a few rough weeks in the ocean and decided to beach himself in order to escape his creditors.

Once they got back and things started to return to what we call normal around here, my parents decided that it was hot enough to go to this place that has lots of water and people splashing around in it in not a lot of clothes. So, they put me into this weird suit that clings to me and this balloon that acts much like Doris. Except there were no dogs to attack.

Then, we got into the water. Oh, My, Goodness. This was the most amazing experience that I have had in my life. I splished. I splashed. It was similar to taking a bath, but without the soap or the nakedness. Then, two really awesome things happened.

We were in the area designated for little kids (I know this because there were nothing but other kids around us and their mommies, but none of them had an awesome floaty thingy. This might be the shallow end of the gene pool that daddy keeps talking about), when all of the sudden from out of nowhere, this green ball flies in and smacks Badger-face right in his... badger... face.

Now, I am above slap-stick humor. It is for the hoy palloy. Also, I love my daddy, no matter what I may say about him on here. But, in this instance, it was downright hysterical. Just, "POW!" right in the kisser. No warning, no nothing.

The second thing that happened was after we got out of the pool. We were drying off, and these two older kids were right next to us. They were horsing around and snapping towels at one another. Well, daddy was holding me on his left side and one of the kids hit him on his right side. Then something happened that changed my perception of Mommy forever.

She went into total Momma Bear Mode.

With a withering gaze and an icy voice, she told the kid, "if you hit my family again, we are going to have some problems." Now, I don't care if you are the toughest biker/bounty hunter/police officer/Army Ranger/Lone Ranger/Time Lord out there, if you get hit with that basilisk gaze and freezing tone, you will stop what you are doing, re-evaluate your relationship with your chosen deity (or, if you are a atheist, pick one to have a relationship with), and put your mother's phone number on speed dial, because you have looked into the face of your own mortality.

Needless to say, the kids backed off. And I learned a valuable lesson there: Don't mess with Mommy.

Finally got my computer back...

Now that Jack is asleep, I figured that it was a good time to update both of you readers on the:

STATE OF THE WEST HOUSEHOLD!

ahem...

First, we've been making the house all spiffy-like in anticipation of house guests. You see, our house was built in the 60's. So far all I can gather is that there is some sort of space-time bubble that has kept this house in the exact same state it was built in for the past 50 years. Either that, or the previous owners were older and unable to update it.

That Occam guy doesn't know what he's talking about. It's clearly the bubble thing.

The short time frame for the renovation combined with the fact that I'm a cheap bastard means that we've had to find alternative ways to make the house all fancified. Instead of getting a whole new counter top in the kitchen (which was a fantastic orange-red color before, much like the last gasp of a dying star right before it turns the first few planets in a solar system into crispy jerky), we decided instead to paint it. Now, it's a nice gray color that really sets off my eyes. And the kitchen...

Next, we tackled the bathtub. It was a wonderful green color that oddly resembled pea soup. Linda Blair pea soup. When she was in The Exorcist...? You haven't seen it? Really? Go rent it. Or get it from Netflix. With that download service they have. Seriously. That movie will freak your stuff out. Wow, you are lame...

Anyway, pea soup green bathtub. As the Cheap Monster reared its head, we decided to buy a paint specifically made for bathtubs. Yes, bathtub paint. They make it. And it seems to work pretty well. But, since the bathtub is located in the center of the house, with no windows, one small door and poor ventilation, I now know what the color green tastes like.

Oddly, it doesn't taste anything like pea soup.

Next up is the railing on the front porch, which has been chipping and peeling. Carly's been scraping and sanding and thinning it as much as she can, but it looks like we might just have to buy new a new railing. Or torch the house. Whatever.

Second, since I'm tired of blogging for now, I'll make this a two part blog. Yes, something to look forward to. I know it's exciting, but settle down both of you.

Neptune Ain't Got Nothin' On Me!

Finally, the weather in whatever state we're in now has warmed up to the point that parkas have been put away and Mr. Sun has decided to make his appearance. So, Badger-face and Mommy pulled out this big inflatable raft that they filled with water, which seems to me to be contraindicated to its intended purpose. Then, they set me up with this sweet hat and a diaper that helps keep water out (again, contraindicated). I got into the raft and impressed both of my parents with my water treading ability.

Then we had to get out because I spit up a little into the pool water.

The bonus of all this is that Mommy managed to squirt Badger-face and the dog with my spit up water. It's always funny to see Daddy running around like a little girl.

Speaking of impressing those two, (easy, I know. Heck, I fart and they're impressed) I decided to throw them a bone this week. Mommy came into my room after my nap and, being the beefy guy that I am, pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, just to show off. She managed to take a picture of it to show Daddy and the two of them just guffawed. It's really cute when they get all excited like that...

Mommy's done with teaching school, which means she'll get to spend lots more time with me! I'm very excited about this as it means that I no longer have to go to work. Yes, I have a job. It mostly involves me keeping about 4 other kids entertained all day while Mommy and the Badger-face are at work or school or the mall or whatever it is they do all day. So, less work for me, except now I have to entertain Mommy all day. And Daddy all night. It's exhausting being a cute baby.

For now, they've left me at Grandma's house so they can run around "the city" and have a "date". I'm not sure why they couldn't take me with them if all they're going to do is eat small fruit, but whatever. It's nice over here.

It has begun...

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

I have begun the first steps toward my eventual take over of the Earth. Mind you, I don't normally have aspirations of world domination, but this week has been a busy one and my typical peaceful demeanor has changed a little.

For starters, mommy picked me up a fantastic device at something called a "garage sale". I assumed it would be called a garage, but, alas, no. She calls it a walker, and it has 4 wheels, a tray and is built like a rock. I have decided that this is no ordinary walker, but a tank. A massive quad-wheeled weapon of mass destruction that will make the world tremble in fear of my awesome unstoppable blitzkrieg!

I've named her Doris.

Currently, my operational theater is limited to sorties against the dog, but as she tries to steal my thunder anyway, I find it amusing. As the dog goes about her daily routine, sleeping, eating, begging daddy for food and walkings, I take it upon myself to try out the capabilities of my wheeled juggernaut by following her and trying to grab her. But, since the tray sticks out really far, I'll have to settle for just running her over with it.

Also, the tray has a lot of room for my toys.

My ire has been flared by the arrival of what my "parents" have called "diaper rash". And not just any diaper rash, but the diaper rash from Hades. It hurts a lot. We had to see the doctor for it and he gave them this thick stuff that they have to smear on my butt when they change my diaper. It's humiliating! And I do not appreciate it! If I didn't love them so much, I would be quite miffed at them. That, and my fanny hurts.

The plus side is that I made a new friend today at the hospital. He's a nice, fluffy stuffed red guy that the nice people at the hospital introduced to me. He comforted me during my time of woe and for that, he has earned my trust. I have decided to call him Augustus.

Bed time! Maybe tomorrow will be a better, less angry day...

The Nerd is Strong With This One

Dear Blogophiles,
Yes, it's been a while since I or my "father" blogged. Let's just move on.

I've been very busy growing and getting more awesome everyday (I say humbly). I've moved up to real food! With a spoon and everything! My liquid diet wasn't giving me the carbs and protein that I needed to maintain my beefiness. So, I've had to bump up my eating regimen to include fruits and veggies. So far my favorites are peaches, squash, and avocado.

Also, I've begun doing crunches and turning over from belly to back and back to belly. It's a hard workout, but I've got to keep at my maximum beefcake level so I can beat daddy up when I get older.

And by "older" I mean in a few weeks.

All this beefing up has paid off, since I can also sit up almost all by myself. Soon, I'll be scooting along and then begging to use daddy's car, staying out until all hours and running with a bad crowd. At least, that's what mommy's books say I'm going to do if I don't watch my Baby Einstein DVD's.

Speaking of DVD's, mommy decided she needed something called a "me day" the other day. Apparently, this day involves mommy leaving me with the dead badger faced guy all day while she went to what daddy called "a tent revival that will turn into a goat sacrifice." Mommy keeps telling him that it's a lesson from some religious person. I'm not really sure what the "religion" stuff is except that church is a place to sleep for me and daddy.

But, when he left, daddy (after yelling "finally" at the top of his lungs) sat me down on the floor and decided to introduce me to a few of his favorite movies. Over the rest of the day, we watched a bunch of movies about aliens and spaceships and Sigourney Weaver. I really like her. Though what she's doing working beneath her talent in those movies is beyond me. I mostly didn't pay attention, though, since I was busy working out my new method of scientific inquiry.

My method involves 4 stages each more intensive than the last. It's a new way to look at the world around us and is guaranteed to revolutionize the scientific community. Here are the steps:
1. Observability. First, you find what you want to study, say, a bunch of plastic keys or a fistful of mommy's hair. Look at the object and ascertain it's distance from you.
2. Grabitude. Next, grab the object with your pincers and hold onto it for all your worth. For best results, try to grab something small and easily manipulable, like a fistful of mommy's hair.
3. Omnomability. Third, bring to your mouth and om nom it. Try to get as much of the object into your mouth as possible, pulling it there as hard as you can. Again, mommy's hair is excellent for this.
4. Throwination. Last, toss the object as hard as you can. This works best by tossing it away at the most inopportune moment. I've gotten very interesting data from flinging Mortimer out of my crib at night and then crying loudly since Mortimer has suddenly disappeared. It makes daddy very happy.

So, there. I've blogged again. Maybe, since daddy is moving into his summer schedule I can use his laptop a little more frequently to blog a bit more.

Haters Be Tryin' To Silence My Game

Dear Blog-o-sphere,
I've had a time of major discoveries!

First, it appears that on the ends of the things that are attached to me near my head are small, multi-pronged apparatuses. There I was, minding my own business, doing what I do best, then, BAM! My eyes dart to those... things. I ask myself, "What is this magical thing in my throne with me? It does seems to flail around a lot." I stared at it for some time trying to deduce what it's for. Then (shock and horror!), a second one appeared. Still not quite sure what that are for, but I am working on solving that mystery.

Second, the hairy man and the nice lady took me to see the man in the green onesie again. This time he had another objective in mind. I needed to have my tongue clipped. I believe that his ultimate goal on this trip was to silence my wails for food or someone to wipe up my doodie. They said that I had to have my tongue clipped since it had grown incorrectly, but I debate this. I feel my tongue worked fine before. It flopped about and made a wonderful scream when I wanted it to. "But, it might cause you to have a speech impediment when you get older," they said. Well, I would have none of it! I decided to rebel and not get this elective surgery! That's a slippery slope. First, it's tongue clipping, then tummy tuck, then breast implants, then Rod Stewart-ictomies.

It seems my rebellion was short lived, however. I got my tongue clipped and feel no different than I did before. Soon, I'll have no choice but to belt out "Hot Legs" at the top of my wonderful singing voice.

Then, they took me to this place, woke me up from a peaceful slumber, and some lady started jabbing needles into me! They said it was my "shots" and that I "needed them". I think mommy needed them more than I did, because she almost cried when I got them. I screamed a bit because they did hurt, but not as bad as mommy made it seem.

Next, there is this amazing thing that has happened over the course of my time here. Where once the ground outside of my new humble abode (I liked the decor of my old one better, by the way. Nice shag carpet and everything) was lush and verdant, now it's changed to this powdery white substance that is very cold and a little wet. Of course, I don't get to see much of this stuff up close, since the nice lady and the hairy guy cover me up anytime we go out. But, if I scream enough, they carry me to the thing they call "windows" and let me look at it. It's bright and shiny and sparkles (daddy says, like a vampire. I don't know what he means.) Well, now it's everywhere daddy shovels it away from the house, but it keeps coming back. Mommy is excited about it because she "doesn't have to go back to that hellhole" (again, no idea what that means).


Finally, I've noticed a curious phenomenon. It seems that almost every time I go to sleep these days, I wake up in a different place. First, sleep, then, in the car.
Sleep, in some sort of bright building with things to buy.
Sleep, then in a metal tube that the hairy guy tells me is "30,000 feet in the air". Sometimes, I think he's insane. So, I yelled really loud to let him and everyone else in the tube know this. He was not amused and passed me to the nice lady.
Sleep, somewhere they say is Houston. I got to see Grandma and Grandpa West again and that was nice. I finally got to meet my Uncle Jay and Aunt Ashley. Uncle Jay is just as hairy as daddy is! I also got to meet my great grandpa. He seems like a nice guy. Although he did call me "Britches" a lot. I think it's because I was wearing my good pants at the time. I tried to explain that my name is Jack, but he had none of it.
Sleep, back in the metal tube. Daddy said that we were going back home, but one look out the window told me he was lying again. After all, it was just the sky and that wasn't moving. So, this time I not only yelled to tell him that he was insane, I pooped too. That'll show him! Well, he took me into this small room and started to change me. Then, the room started rocking back and forth, making daddy stumble a bit. Must have been some sort of amusement ride...
Sleep, back home.
Sleep, back in a metal tube. More very loud explaining that daddy is insane. More angry looks from everyone else.
Sleep, somewhere called Washington, D.C. It seems that this is the headquarters of a lot of high paid architects and builders. Everything there is ornate or under construction. Or both. There was this big guy sitting on a chair in a building, a big building with lots of steps and, as daddy put it, "filled with fat cats and pork". I told him that if they got rid of the pork in there, that the fat cats would leave. Or lose some weight. He smiled and kissed my forehead. I also spent some time with my Aunt Sara, Uncle Nick, and cousin Ella. I don't know what it is about the ladies, but they love me. Even the girls at my babysitter's think that I'm the bees knees. I have to tell them to back off sometimes and let the playa play.
Sleep, metal tube. Loud explaining of how hungry I am. Daddy looks for the nearest exit to jump out of.

It seems all of this time and space warping while I sleep is caused by a magical entity called "Jesus" and a time called "Christmas". From what I have gathered, he was born around this time a long time ago along with his buddies Santa Claus and Rudolph (he's a red-nosed reindeer it seems.) Mostly, people celebrate his birth by buying gifts for each other, crippling themselves by falling off of ladders while hanging lights that have nothing to do with Jesus, crippling themselves with debt from the lights and gifts, and eating and drinking to excess (possibly in honor of the spartan lifestyle that Jesus led.)

Daddy made sure that I finished this blog before I could go to bed. I'm very sleepy now. I'll try to blog more often, but I've been very busy keeping daddy up all night crying for food while letting mommy sleep. What can I say? I'm a giver. It's a Christmas present for her.

A Baby's Lament

Dear Blog,
Once again I find myself in need of venting my frustration. The hairy one and the nice lady have switched my bi-hourly regiment of liquid diet from the divine ambrosia that I was receiving to some sort of poor substitute. It smells a little like garbage juice, you know, the puddle of yuck at the bottom of the trash can when you take it out to the curb and as you put it down it tips over and spills all on your newly laundered pants right before you have to leave for work. I'm not sure what any of that means, but I heard "daddy" yelling about it one day.
Clearly, I didn't like this new stuff, but I thought I would humor my parents (they try so hard to please me, after all). After only a few attempts to grit my gums and suffer through it, I gave up. It tasted foul and, thus, I was forced to do the thing that any reasonable person would do: I started to regurgitate it in a most spectacular manner, all over the two of them, every time they tried to feed it to me, and fuss with out end.
Now, they have switched me to yet another substitute and this one is not so bad. I might still fling it back at them via my mouth just to let them know who is boss and keep them on their toes, but for the most part, I'll keep eating it.

They tricked me last night. One minute, I was sleeping, nice and cozy, on the nice lady's chest. The next: I'm in an unfamiliar place in a dark room, on a nice, comfy cushion. But, (horror of horrors!) I was alone!!! This would not stand. So, after a few seconds of wailing at the top of my lungs, the hairy one comes in and tries to placate me with Mortimer.

Glad you asked. Mortimer is my constant companion. I'm not sure what the technical term for it is (thus the name Mortimer), but it's this device that's simulates my feeding apparatus, but nothing comes out. In a way, it's something that gives me the illusion of being fed without being fed! Brilliant! Now I can "eat" without getting milk hips!

As I was saying, the quasi-ape tried to make me happy, but failed utterly. Finally, the nice lady came in and put me back in my throne where I belong. I go everywhere in my throne, so it only makes sense for me to sleep there.

I've also taken to a fun new game I have devised. When one of my parents is alone with me, and I know another of them is about to arrive, I unleash a cacophony of screams and wails the likes of which have not been heard in a fortnight. Then, when the other parent arrives in the room, I quickly silence myself. The effect of which is that the 2nd parent now thinks the 1st parent is insane for complaining about my crying. It's a real hoot!

Well, duty calls! My diaper has become full and I need for the nice lady to change me. Seriously. It's like Fallujah down there.

Until the future, dear blog.

A Moment Of Your Time

Dearest Blog Readers,
It is with a heavy sense of humility that I, Dr. Jonathan M West, esq., becomes the newest member of this quaintly titled "Baby Blog". For several weeks now, I have been endeavoring to become the best baby that I can be. Pursuant to this, I have taken up the mantle of "Blog Writer" in addition to my other titles: "PhD", "Professor of Baby Studies, Harvard", and "Poop Factory". Therefore, in between my daily rituals of bowel evacuation, feedings, sleeping when my parents are awake, waking when my parents are sleeping, and transcendental meditation, I will be offering my commentary on the life of a modern infant.

I know that this electronic forum has devolved into a wasteland of mediocrity in the hands of my father, colloquially known as "Daddy", but I'm here to see that this kind of irresponsible blog writing will come to end.

First order of business will be to recall the events of my birth.

I was brought into this world on September 28, 2009 at 12:09pm after being ripped from my mother's womb by a gregarious man in what I now believe was a blue jumper. Prior to that time, I occupied myself with rousing games of tic-tac-toe, preparing my dissertation on the effects of external stimulus on the fetal mind and drawing pictures of horsies on the placenta. I was safe. I was warm. I was happy. Then, without warning, I am taken from my lovely home into a cold and bright and empty area. I see this person with what appeared to be a dead badger on his face, claiming to be my "daddy", and a drugged woman on a slab that "daddy" claimed was my "mommy". Needless to say, I began to scream bloody murder. I was then whisked away and cleaned and prodded, all the while I was attempting to tell the Onesie-clad people that there had been some sort of mistake and would they please stop poking that or trying to put that thing in my rectum. After what seemed like an eternity, my torturers clothed me and sent me into a room with two people claiming to be my "grandma and grandpa". Finally, the sort of people who would be able to take care of my fragile form! But, alas, this brief comfort was also snatched from me as I was returned to the hairy man and the near comatose woman.

The day grows long and the siren call of my liquid diet is nigh. I am on a liquid diet in order to watch my weigh. You can never start too early.

I say adieu, fair readers. I shall continue my story anon.

Been A Long Time...

Yep. It's been a while. A month, really. Sorry about all the waiting and yearning for bloggy goodness, but apparently raising a baby eats up quite a bit of your time. Who knew?

In between the diaper changes and t-shirt changes and cute photo uploads (available on Facebook and shipping for a nominal fee), I do have work and school to take care of. So, it's a busy time for your humble blog writer.

Also, no one told me that babies require this sort of attention all the time, not just the first week or so! It's madness!!

So, to fill in the gaps between the times that I get off my fat, lazy, white blog writing butt and actually write a blog, I would like to welcome our newest contributor to the blog. He comes highly recommended and I hear he has quite a lot to say. In addition, he'll be able to provide amazing insight to the events that occur around Chez West as Carly and I stumble blindly around parenthood.

So, the next blog will be written by none other than... THE BABY!

We've got a baby!!!!

The big day has arrived (a bit sooner than we thought)! More details will be coming in another blog. But Jack is here and healthy. Carly is recovering nicely, and I'm loving all the snuggle time I get! Pictures have been posted on my Facebook page!

NOBODY PANIC!

See, cause people panic when you say the word "preeclampsia," but it's completely not necessary. My blood pressure is elevated and I can't think of a delicate way to say "the protein in my urine is slightly elevated," but it's not bad enough to do anything other than cut the sodium out of my diet, watch my blood pressure, and go on modified bed rest. I'm still going to work, but I have to sit while I teach, and I have to come directly home from work and not go anywhere other than the bathroom. I go back to the doctor on Wednesday (assuming I don't go into labor before then), so I should have more to report then.

An actual baby blog. Who knew?

I bet you are all wondering why I've called you here today.

It's come to my attention that some members of this blogging community have expressed disdain for the lack of baby related topics on this baby named blog. Normally, this kind of insurrection would be dealt with on a personal level and would not reach this blog. However, I must reluctantly concur that I have been rather lean on the baby front. As a result, I have graciously decided to forgo the usual beatings and summary executions of those expressing dissent, and choose instead to give you all the gift of an all baby blog.

I am a benevolent dictator.

Thus, I present to you, my subjects....

JON'S "ALL BABY NEWS" BLOG

1. Carly is pregnant.
I know, big shock! Take your time to recover. She's started dropping now and even had a real weak contraction or two. (For more information on that front, please direct your e-mail barrage to her). The last time she went to the doctor(week 37 ), the baby measured 40 weeks. We're thinking that the boy will be huge when he arrives. If this changes your guess on the baby weight or time, please keep post it in the comments section. She has been going through the milk at a rate upwards of one gallon per 24 hours. I'm having a very hard time keeping up with the buying of it. It helps her now rampant heartburn. Any help on that front would be appreciated. (I have suggested having the baby, but that didn't go over so well...) The upshot of this is that Jack will have bones of steel. I'm hoping for Wolverine-like claws too.

2. The nursery is looking fantastic.
HUGE thanks to Aunt Sara and Grandma Connie for busting your fannies/wrists to get that done. I think it kept us from going too insane and taking it out on each other. I know I said that I might post pictures, but thanks to my @#$%ty work schedule and homework situation, I haven't had any time to take let alone upload pictures. But, this weekend is (mostly) open, so there's a flicker of hope. (Take that at face value. Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment. -ed)

3. Did you know aspirin was once a brand name drug?
NO!!! BAD JON!!! MORE BABY TALK!!!!

3. I mean, we went to a baby class last weekend.
We signed up for this class since it had an infant CPR lesson. Going into it, I thought, "Wonderful, they'll teach me about swaddling, diapering, feeding, how to handle the birth, and all the things that I would need to know. A veritable user's guide to parenting! How quaint!"

Not so much.

We walk into the room about 15 minutes early, and on the screen a video is playing. The instructor is getting things set up and apparently needed to rewind the video. Of a birth. Take a moment and image our horror of walking in to a 9AM class and seeing a baby being un-born. It was... upsetting... But, it did make watching it properly much more bearable.

Other things we learned from this class:
A. Epidurals are great, you should get one (our hospital doesn't offer them, lucky us).
B. I like Ocean Spray Cran-Grape juice. They offered juice refreshment.
C. Epidurals are the bees's knees, you really need to get one.
D. Breastfeeding is complicated.
E. Epidurals are God's gift to all of humanity. Get one now. Right now.
F. Ummm....
G. EPIDURAL!!! NOW!!! GO!!!
H. Don't shake a baby. Shaking your moneymaker still ok.
I. Epidurals are the equivalent of liquid God.
J. Feeling the baby move is the best thing about pregnancy.

Further on point J., every woman in this class said that was the best part of it.

Carly disagrees. Jack hasn't really stopped moving since we first felt him. While it is cool to see and feel the baby, what I think is better is watching the ultrasound every month and seeing my baby grow. That's the really amazing part. Oh, that and the fact that he's really healthy and going to have Wolverine claws. Awesome.