Vaccinations

The time has come for Jaxson's two month check-up, which is the time that the CDC recommends that all children get 6 vaccinations one of which is a combo shot, so really that means 8 different vaccinations. For those of you that don't have kids it might seem like no big deal to vaccinate, but most parents I know have put a lot of thought into whether or not to vaccinate. Thanks to people like Jenny McCarthy, and others for speaking out about a possible causational link between vaccinations and the onset of autism, many parents including myself have started to do their research.

When Wyatt was born we inoculated him up. He had the hefty doses at 2 and 4 months. I had heard about possible links to autism and was hesitant to give Wyatt the vaccines on the schedule recommended by the CDC and my doctor. I didn't do my due diligence and research as I am now, and I deeply regret that. At 6 months we went in for Wyatt's third round of shots (5 that day) since birth. Afterward, I dropped him off at our wonderful sitter's. She is a completely competent mother of three who had never before called me out of concern for Wyatt's health. She sounded very unsettled on the phone and told me that Wyatt had become "listless" and was running a fever. I immediately went and picked him up. I was shocked to find my normally alert, bubbly 6 month old lying down staring into space with glazed eyes. He was a shell of the baby he normally was. I cannot describe it accurately enough, but it wasn't like he was sick, it was like he was sick and wasn't present either. I cried the entire way home praying to God and making deals if he would just be OK. I remember vividly lying on the floor with him and bawling. I called the doctor and they seemed unconcerned. It was apparently normal to have such "lethargy". I was to call back if it continued beyond a few days. So, I watched like a hawk. Luckily, Wyatt was more himself the next day and each day after he sort of came back. No one will ever know if we were on the brink of losing him to autism or not. It is entirely possible that his symptoms were a normal benine reaction. But, he has never had a shot since. I cringe at the memory of such a dark time for me personally. The guilt I felt thinking that maybe I had done that to him was paralyzing.

Now, we have Jaxson. My gut reaction is to tell the doctor that we will not be vaccinating at all. Part of me wants to space out the vaccines that I select. We still have a few weeks for me to make my decision and I have started research that is reminiscent of a senior thesis. I will post my condensed findings here as soon as I have them sorted out. Hopefully, it will be of some use to other parents no matter what my final decision will be.

Spring

Last year Brett and I decided to spruce up the front yard. I planted the white iceberg roses and he planted some climbing roses and red impatients. I walked out to admire them the other day and found that a little gnome had wondered into the garden. Turns out Brett invited him, so I guess he can stay.

Dear Children,

I love you both dearly, but could you, for my sanity, coordinate your sleeping schedules? Oh, almost-three year old, could you not come into my room screaming and crying that you want juice right after I get your brother asleep after a three hour stint of early morning wakefulness? And little baby, could you try to push your 5 am wake up call back to 7 am when your brother typically wakes up from a wet bed? As it currently stands I am the only member of the house awake because you have all managed to nestle back into bed with clouds of slumber swirling around your heads- only after I have had 2 cups of coffee! You are lucky you are both adorable beyond words....

Wyattisms

Wyatt- "Mama? I am going to grow up. Dada said he don't want me grow up. Why?"

Me: "When you grow up you will move out of our house and start your own family. Mommy and Daddy will miss you so much, we want to keep you small."

Wyatt- "When I get bigger you and Dada gonna be two. You live wif me!"

Me- "Mommy and Daddy don't get younger sweety, we get older too. We won't be two when you move out."

Wyatt- "You get bigger and bigger too?"

Me- "Yeah."

Wyatt- "And me too get bigger and bigger?" (pause, thinking it over) "Den I get too big and I gonna crack da ceiling! And be too big for da bed and too big for my orange juice?!?!"

Comparisons

Everyone has been asking me if I see comparisons between my two boys. Frankly, it is hard to remember every detail of Wyatt's face as a little baby, so I dug up some of his baby pics and decided to put them together so that you could decide. Enjoy!


Wyatt at Birth 8lbs 1oz and 20"



Jaxson at Birth 7lbs 8oz and 19.5"




Wyatt's first smile at 2 months.



Jaxson's first smile at 1 month.




Wyatt at 2 mo.


Jaxson at 1 mo.

Wyattisms

"Dada? Do you know what a quest is? It is a dangerous adbenture." - Wyatt 35 months

Young Blue Eyes

This morning I woke up early, or I should say that I was awoken by a tiny little thing in my bed. Jaxson was stretching and grunting in a little move I like to call "Superman" where he makes a fist and stretches one arm up at a time and contorts his face into crazy expressions. This kid makes faces like no one I have ever seen before. We meandered into the living room as Wyatt and Brett were still asleep and as I poured coffee and tried to wake up, I turned my attention to my wide-eyed little bugger. Jaxson is only 4 weeks-and-some-change, and though Wyatt was well over 2 months when began to smile, I thought “what the hell, maybe I can get this animated little guy to smile for me.” I softly tickled under his chin and he immediately began smiling and hamming it up for me. I managed to find the camera, which is amazing in and of itself as it is perpetually missing just like Brett’s car keys. I snapped these adorable little gems. I keep looking back at the pictures trying to see his personality and imagine what he will turn out like. I don’t know if he will be a stoic or a class clown yet, all I know is I am transfixed.

Welcome Jaxson McQueen Murdock (posted March 12, 2010)

March 5, 2010 at 10:00am we welcomed Jaxson McQueen Murdock into the world. The weeks leading up to delivery I was antsy to say the least. My contractions began three weeks prior and I went to the hospital two weeks before thinking I was having the baby. I was only 2cm dilated and they made me walk for an hour around the hospital to see if we were making any progress. We weren't so we went home only to return a week later. I had had contractions during the early morning hours that were really strong. I decided that in order to hurry things along and make sure that I wouldn't be turned away from the hospital, we would walk downtown Palm Springs. We walked and shopped for six hours and my contractions were 4 min apart and really strong. We returned to the hospital, sure that I would be admitted. They checked me and I was only 3cm dilated so they told me to walk again. More walking.... uggh. In the weeks previous I had: taken a castor oil cocktail, drank gallons of Raspberry leaf tea, taken Evening Primrose Oil morning and night, had my membranes stripped, walked miles and miles, and bounced on a yoga ball, all promising to induce labor. What all of that had accomplished was not starting active labor, but at least I was dilating. So there we were outside of the hospital with me in my gown walking more. Brett was as determined as I was that today was the day and that we needed to do everything possible in the next hour to ensure admittance into the labor and delivery ward. So, he had me doing squats- in the front lawn of the hospital- in my gown. Yep I was that crazy pregnant lady that people were pointing and laughing at as the drove by to get their hips x-rayed and their moles removed. As you could guess were not admitted that day and I was thoroughly exhausted. Fast forward two days and I awoke with horrifying contractions at 4 in the morning. I got out of bed and tried to walk. I didn't get far before I was yelling for my mom and cussing in the kitchen. I was so out of it and in such pain I promised that I could not make the 40 min car ride to the hospital. I had no idea how I was going to do it. I managed to pull myself together and my mom drove me to the hospital as Brett tried to call the sitter to drop of Wyatt.

After what seemed like eternity we were admitted into delivery. I was immediately asking for an epidural. I knew that the delivery was going to go fast and after two weeks of watching A Baby Story and Deliver Me, I knew that there was a horrifying chance that maybe I would progress too quickly to get an epidural and I was going to do my damndest to make sure that scenario wasn't going to be my nightmare. I hounded the nurses for an hour and a half until the anesthesiologist arrived. As soon as he put it in I felt better. I started to relax and the contractions started to ease. I told him that the epidural was better than Christmas Morning. And boy do I love Christmas morning!! It was now 7:30 and don't worry the labor was indeed short so you don't have too much longer to read. Brett had arrived and so he and my mom started to play cards as I started to doze off. At 9:30 the wonderful nurse whom we loved came in to check things and I told her that I thought we would have a baby before 10:30. She checked and I was fully dilated and ready to push. She was shocked, so were the rest of us. She asked if I thought I wanted to push and I said sure. I started pushing as she was on the phone calling for my doctor. Luckily my doctor was in the hospital and we didn't have to wait too long before she came in. I pushed for 3 min with the doctor, and BOOM we had a baby.

Everything went so unbelievably well that it seems surreal. Jaxson is perfect and weighed 7 lbs 8oz and was 19.5 inches long. The rest is history. We have been home for almost a week and after our first doctor appointment we learned that Jaxson has gained 12 oz in 5 days! He is doing awesome and I feel so so blessed. Wyatt is adjusting to the new addition. He is currently the best diaper-hander-to-er ever and is constantly "keeping an eye on Jaxson". My mom is still here and will stay for another month. It is like having a live in nanny, maid, and personal chef in one. For FREE. We are really spoiled and life is good.

Comprehension

Wyatt gave me an unsolicited explanation of exactly how we are going to get Jaxson out of my belly.

"You gonna go and lay down in bed. Den you gonna get sick. Den da daator gonna come and he gonna take my baby out da you belly. Den he be born!"


Amazingness. I am not sure exactly how he knows this, maybe I told him at one point? Maybe he has been secretly watching TLC's a Baby Story? It is so funny how they can comprehend certain parts of life and then recess completely into baby land. Case in point: Right after he gave me the low down on the birthing process he told me that Daddy was, "Gonna come and poop on our faces and den we gonna get him wif poo-poo ice cream in da face!" We are really into poo-poo or ca-ca ice cream lately. We are also really into saying things like, "I so mad at choo. Yook at me. Yook at my face. You see dis?" as he makes his best mad face which actually looks like he is trying to squint his eyes and instead ends up squishing his whole face- not quite the effect he was going for I am sure, but once he perfects it, watch out!

Jaxson McQueen Update (posted Jan 12, 2010)

I think it is about time that Jaxson (yes we officially decided on his name) get his own blog entry.

This week I am 33 weeks pregnant. According to the baby-tracker-thingy that emails me every week, the baby is about 16 inches long and weighs about 4 lbs- roughly the size of a Jicama ('cause I am pretty sure that we all know exactly what that looks like!) We had an ultrasound today and I asked the Dr. to measure the baby to see if we were on track for another 8lb baby or a bigger one. Everytime I go in to the Dr they tell me that my belly is measuring small and that the baby isn't that big, however, his kicks would suggest otherwise. So I was surprised to find out that Jaxson is on track for being a perfectly average size baby, approx. 7 1/2 lbs according to the Doc. She also noted that he is in position and very very low and will probably come early. Thank you Baby Jesus! A few weeks shy of 40 weeks would be heavenly, however when we told her that my baby shower was scheduled for Feb 6th in Arizona, she was very concerned and asked me to try to move it up if at all possible?!?!?! Now she has me worried that I could go into labor at 36 weeks! We will probably be alright, right? Everytime someone gives me some tiny bit of information I run with it, so I think that this is a time that I shouldn't get too carried away. I think she is just being very cautious. Also, when we had the sonogram I got a good look at his balls, seriously. It was actually pretty alarming. What a pair! Parenting boys is pretty hilarious and their whole package baffles me. It would seem that Jaxson seems will follow in his brother's footsteps because he had his tiny hand on his balls, opening and closing. How does this sort of thing happen to me? I thought having a toddler being sent to the doctor for self injury to the aforementioned package was pretty bad, but this kid is already playing the fiddle in the womb!!! The doctor actually pointed all this out and thought it was hilarious. I love that she has such a good sense of humor. Overall, she said that the baby looked very healthy and very active. So we are on track and Jaxson will be here before we know it!

The only time it is ok to be a "Big" Girl (posted Jan 2010)

Since our trip to Missouri Wyatt has become an expert cuddler. I was pretty consigned to the fact that he was not a cuddler and didn't really love me. But after 9 nights of sharing a bed with only me while in Missouri (due to bed sizing constraints), he has changed my mind. Wyatt has always (since 6 months) slept in his own bed because everyone involved slept better. I took pride in the fact that I didn't have a communal bed and he was self sufficient enough to soothe himself to sleep. Now, though, I don't know why I thought this communal bed thing was such a bad idea. Some nights he goes to sleep in his crib and is totally fine. Other nights he or me asks if he can sleep in our bed. We have a big super comfy bed so there is plenty of room and he sleeps in the middle of Brett and me. I cannot even tell you the joy it brings to me to look at his little face right before he falls asleep. He takes a big sigh, half smiles, and looks at me with sleepy eyes while his little hands are curled under his chin...my absolute favorite thing in the world. We give him lots of kisses of course and we tell him how much we love him. He revels in it. The other night, I said "I love you little boy," and he whispered back to me, "I love you... big...girl." Hilariously adorable.

Santa Who? (posted Dec 15, 2009)

Being that Wyatt is 2, this really is the first Christmas that he has any clue what is going on. Before I had Wyatt, you know back in my idealistic phase, I swore that I wouldn't lie to my child and tell him there was a Santa, Easter Bunny, or Tooth Fairy. I had decided that it would be better if my child knew the facts and knew that I had always been honest with him. I also swore to tell him what sex was as soon as he was old enough to ask. I was going to get diagrams and the whole nine yards, not just tell him it was from Mommies and Daddies kissing. The verdict is still out on the sex thing, but I have changed my mind about imaginary figures like Santa. I love Christmas and remember the magic of believing in something bigger than my parents. Alas, here we are and Santa has made his way into our lives again like when we were kids. We have watched hours of cartoons centered on Christmas, The Polar Express, Doras' Christmas Carol, and the classic Frosty the Snowman to name a few. I wasn't sure that Wyatt was getting the concept of where Santa lived and how he traveled etc. etc. So on top of the shows, I busted out the key. Just to make certain there were no holes in my story, I bought a cast iron key that "Santa" uses when kids don't have chimneys. We will hide the magic key under the mat. We have decorated Christmas cookies and talked ad nasuem about the naughty list. Much to my pleasure Wyatt proved his superior knowledge on all things Santa yesterday when Brett was driving him to Sandra the babysitter's house. Wyatt says, "Daddy, I don' wanna go Mrs. Damra's house. I wanna go see Santa." Brett askes him where Santa lives, "Oba daya (over there) at da nof pole." Brett askes him where the North Pole is. Wyatt points out the windows to the mountains. "Oba daya, Daddy. Oba da mountains. Less go!" Santa you better watch out, Wyatt is coming up "Nof".

Updates (posted Dec 1, 2009)

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. We went to Arizona to see the Murdocks and my friends and had a great time. Wyatt finally got a hair cut, don't be alarmed when you look at the pics, we really did cut some off even though it is still longer than most women's hair! He was not happy to say the least to get it cut and we had to bribe him with a toy dump truck that made noise, a sucker, and the promise to go home and paint rocks! Overall he did pretty well, but it is definately not his favorite thing in the world. He looks a little less, well, homeless now. While we were back in AZ we took pictures by the LOVE sign in the park (which I have posted for your viewing pleasure). You all will be getting them as Christmas cards I have decided. I thought they turned out adorable.



On the baby front all is well. I am feeling better than I have the entire pregnancy and not as tired or generally crabby. I even managed to stay up till about 1:30 am on Saturday for some, uh, festivities with the girlfriends. I am almost 27 weeks which means next week I will offically be 7 months. That totally blows my mind. With the birth quickly approaching we have been searching for a name with more ferver than before. Brett loves the name Jackson, and we adore his cousin with the same name. However, his name is Jackson Murdock Cue and another Jackson Murdock seems too close, so we are thinking of going with the alternate spelling Jaxson and calling him Jax for short. I feel very Angelina Jolie for this (she has a son name Pax) and slightly uncomfortable because alternative spellings creep me out on sheer principle. I feel like I am lying by creating my own interpretation on a classic, and that my friend, is a slippery slope. First Jaxson and then the next thing you know I will have a girl named KLOEY. Ick. For now we are trying the name on for size and so far I think it is pretty adorable and very manly at the same time. We don't really have a middle name picked out, but we are leaning toward, get this... McQueen. Mainly because we have to watch Cars nine hundred times a week and the main character's name is Lighting McQueen. The way Wyatt says it is hilarious. "Lightinin-AQueen!" as in "Look Mama, Look Mama, Lightinin-AQueen is fast. He winnin' da race. He has red wheeeels!!!!" We asked Wyatt if he would like to have a brother named Jaxson and he excited said, "Ya, I like Jaxson, my bruda!" Then we asked if he would like to have a brother named "Jaxson McQueen" to which he quickly shouted "No, no, Jaxson AQueen. I AQueen. I da fastest!" Which just makes me want to name him Jaxson McQueen even more! Jaxson McQueen Murdock written out looks a little long though. Well, we will see. That is all for now. I will post more pictures soon.

Potty Mouth (posted Oct 2009)

I remember when my little sister was about 2 and we went to the lake. After a hellacious time getting our boat on the trailer while my sister and me listened to my mom mumble obscenities under her breath at my step dad, we exited the boat and were on dry land. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. , knew just how to break the tension and belted out a “Ass hole!” I died laughing. The way you are not supposed to when children learn these things. But at the time it really was the funniest thing ever.



Now I have a 2 year old and I do not have the cleanest mouth in the world, nor does my husband. So, of course history has repeated itself and my little man is cussing. I must admit he does it in a very cute and innocent manner. Over the weekend Wyatt decided to take his shoes off in the yard and walk through a sticker bush. When Brett went out the rescue him (shoeless) he walked right through the same bush. He grabbed his foot and said “Ouch that hurt.” Wyatt, in his sweet caring voice said, “Daddy, you got Puckin’ Owies? You got Puckin’ Owies Daddy?” This must mean that our curse words are so common place that it makes perfect sense to us them causally as adjectives. Then yesterday Wyatt and I were taking a bath and he was coloring with his bath crayons (yes they really have such things) he was upset that he had messed up his nose on his drawing and mumbles ever so softly, “Jesus Christ.” I asked him what he said and he looked at me matter of factly, “Christ”. And that was that.



I know he shouldn’t say these words and I vow to try harder not to cuss so much. But in the mean time I don’t think I am going to draw attention to them. I don’t think he knows they are bad yet and once he does, I really think I will be in trouble. For now Jesus Puckin’ Christ is alright with me.

Boy Oh Boy (posted Oct 2009)

I haven’t been avoiding the topic all together, but I haven’t been able to find the words to express how I feel. As you know, or maybe you don’t, we are having another boy. We found out about 4 weeks ago. If you scroll down to earlier blogs you can read about how sure I was that I was pregnant, which was true, and how sure I was that it was a girl, which is now not true. I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was a girl for all the reasons mentioned in that post. I had nurseries designed. I actually had pink curtains hanging in the baby’s room. Seriously. When the sonographer said, ‘There it is!’ I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about. ‘There what is?’ that seems like something you would say if you saw a pe--, wait a minute, you are not talking about seeing a penis on my baby girl are you!??! My legs went numb, I think I blacked out. I have never been in a state of shock comparable to that. I vaguely remember the rest of the appointment and spent the next few days in a daze. What in the world was going to happen to me with another boy? The fact that I thought this seems strange, now. I mean, I already had a boy that I ADORED. Why would another one be so terrible? I could understand if he was a monster and I didn’t want another monster boy, but Wyatt is more than I could have ever dreamed and hoped for. I think that is what I was scared of, what if he wasn’t like Wyatt and I liked Wyatt better? I cannot be the only mom to have ever wondered this, maybe one of the few to admit it, but still. How could I ever love another little boy as much as Wyatt, was my fear. That fear drove me to want a little girl whom I could love equally but differently.


A month later, I am happy to say that I am excited to be having another boy. Though saying aloud, “I am the mother of two boys,” still blows my mind. I know the changes that another little boy will bring. The noise, the chaos, the fighting, but that is true when you add another child to the mix to make a family of four. I know Wyatt will be such a good big brother. Once he realizes what the ‘baby in my tummy’ actually means, he will be ecstatic. So here’s to starting the journey with another Murdock boy…. Now if we could just pick out a name!!

To be 17 again.... (posted Sept 2009)

I am 17 weeks pregnant today. Last week I started to feel the baby kicking and pregnancy finally seemed real to me. Up to that point I just felt insanely bloated and terrible. I started to think that maybe, just maybe someone had made a mistake in telling me that I was pregnant and the doctor had just pushed play on a stock video of a baby moving around in a belly on the sonogram machine. I forgot how much I love it when you can feel the little turnip kicking around in there.

I keep looking down at my burgeoning belly and saying, “Hi.” Like we need to be introduced or something. I don’t feel like I can have a very long conversation with the baby now, not yet. We should start out slow, you know like when you decide you are going to try and have a grown up relationship with a guy, and you tell him you need to take it slow because you really like him and don’t want to screw it all up like usual? Like that. So we are going slow, my baby and I. I have so much to tell it. Where to begin? Do I start for the beginning or the end and work backwards? Do I leave out the embarrassing details? Do I exaggerate to make myself look better? Because I really want this baby to like me. I really do. And since I feel that it is a girl, I want to be her best friend too. I want her to look up to me before she enters her teens and tells me she hates me.

So that is where I am- the early stages of pregnancy and what feels like a new friendship. In the instant of that first kick I felt the urge to hold this baby tightly and keep her/him in there and protect her/him. I think that now that I am a mother of a two year old, I have honed my maternal instincts and instead of only being in awe of the thing called “growing a baby in your tummy and then birthing it and watching it grow up,” I am instead fiercely protective of this process and this time in my life and in my baby’s.

Right before I had Wyatt I watched a Mother’s Day show on Oprah. Yep, picture if you can, my fat belly and my fat ankles lying in bed in the afternoon (still in my pjs) praying that Wyatt would hurry up and get out of my belly, watching Oprah. I was, of course, emotional at the time and cried at everything, but there was one guest in particular who said something that I will never forget. “The only time that your children are really yours is when they are inside of you, the rest of life is learning to let them go.” I think about that almost daily. While Brett thinks it is morbid and pessimistic, I am a realist and a control freak and find it grounds me in reality. This moment right now, is out of my control. Wyatt became his own person the second he was born and I have been watching him grow up and away while simultaneously growing close to his father and me. I make no bones about it - Wyatt is independent and social, but mostly independent. It does make me sad, but I also identify with him, and ironically, my mother. I feel the twangs of separation anxiety I know my mother felt as I did the same to her. Karma. What a bitch. Maybe baby #2 will be different or maybe I will feel differently? Maybe having some perspective will prepare me for what I am sure will be a loving, independent, free spirited, but mostly independent child. I cannot figure out why the things I value most are so painful to see in my own child sometimes. Ultimately, all I can do now is cherish these next few months as I house this unborn child in my belly and get acquainted and promise her/him the world. Hopefully, when the day comes I will be prepared to let her be her/him own person, not just my baby. I really thought that you didn’t have to give your child wings to fly until they were 18? Now, I know differently.

Delayed (posted Oct 3, 2009)

Sorry that it has been so long since my last entry. I haven't been feeling motivated lately. But don't worry, I do feel guilty daily for not writing more or at all. So here is an update of the last couple of weeks.



Wyatt Developments:

We have converted his crib into a toddler bed and threw a comforter over the top so that now he thinks he sleeps in a tent. We also give him a flash light to play with at bed time. He goes to sleep fine, but then wakes up nine million times a night. Note to self: take away flashlight.



Wyatt's new phrase is "because I not". I am unsure whether or not he even knows what this means as he uses it inappropriately 100% of the time. "Why did you do that Wyatt?" "Because I not!"



Wyatt's language skills are way over my head. Well, his second and third language skills are above my head. I guess my Spanish is a little rusty and my Chinese is non-existent. I understand about 60% of what he tells me and the other 40% I can trace back to either Chinese (thanks Ni-Hoa Ki Lan) or Spanish. He went through the grocery store the other day screaming whatever word means apple in Chinese at the top of his lungs. Which Brett thought was hilarious and they sang it in a round. Nicole- exited stage right.



Tuesday Developments:

Not much, she is still so adorable it hurts. She is turning into a hairy beast, however, and she eats more than Bentley by the pounds. Have I mentioned lately that I love her?



Baby in My Belly Developments:

When I went into the doctor two weeks ago to find out the sex of the baby, my doctor had to leave the office to deliver a baby, and I got a sub-par stand in who couldn't operate the sonogram machine. Sorry, no baby pictures today. Brett lost it. Upon our leaving the office the substitute doctor noted, "Your husband is pissed at me." Nicely observed. We made an appointment for the middle of October. We will find out the sex then. I am trying not to think about it or talk about it because, as I have said numerous times before, waiting is not my strong suit.

I hate Mondays, but I love Tuesday (posted Sept 2009)

Well, if you haven't heard already, we are officially off our rockers. Brett and I agreed to get another puppy. Because what is almost as cute as a new baby? A puppy. Now don't panic. Our dear friends Jed and Amber have adopted our chihuahua Chloe, so we do not have three dogs! I draw the line at two. Her official show name is "I Hate Mondays" and her everyday name is Tuesday. We didn't name her, so I cannot take credit for the cutest name in the history of puppies. I have to give the credit to the breeder. Tuesday is going to be a big girl. She is about 25lbs at 12 weeks now. Yikes! I think Bentley was about 18lbs or so at the same age. We are really excited to have another girl in the house. I am trying to tip the scale back over the the estrogen side! She reminds me so much of our first dog Delila (we lost her last year). There is something about a big girl dog that melts your heart; she is lazy and sweet and oh so soft. I will update pics as she grows, and I know she will grow so big so fast. Oh, and just in case you were wondering what kind of dog she is, she is a Dogue de Bordeaux or French Mastiff (if you ever saw Turner and Hooch that is the same breed of dog).

B-O-S-S (posted Sept 2009)

So, as I have mentioned before, my child is a BOSS. He always has some direction to give you, some order to bark. He is also 2 years old which makes him irrational and sometimes a complete enigma. You never know quite what mood he will be in from one minute to the next and if something he normally loves will make him furious. For example, he loves the movie Cars and he especially loves the character “Mator” as in “Tomator”. We got him a replica of Mator the truck and he will push him around for hours, however, I am not allowed to touch Mator. I am actually not allowed to even look at Mator. I don’t know what I ever did to Mator to piss him off, but Wyatt absolutely losses his mind when I look at Mator. “No Mama. No look Mator. Not you!” followed by screaming and sobbing when I tell him that as a matter of fact I am going to at Mator all day because I can. Because I am the Mommy. HA. I know that is cruel, but seriously get over yourself Mator!


I found myself in another completely confounding situation with Wyatt. I was made to sit in one spot and stay there- ordered to do so by said 2 year old. Wyatt is potty training as I have mentioned before and he is doing really well. So well in fact, that he runs to the potty when he needs to go all by himself. The other day I see him streak past the living room on his way to the bathroom (with no pants on of course, that is how he lives when he is at home) and as I follow him in there, he tells me “No Mama. I do myselfff.” Ok. Fine. I go and sit on the couch and listen for any strange noises or hands splashing in the toilet that would warrant me running back into the bathroom, but he is pretty quite. I get up to go to the kitchen and I merely say to him, “How are you doing, Wyatt.” To which he replies, “No Mama, no come in here, I do myself! Get on couch, Mama! ON COUCH!!!!” So, I go and sit back on the couch and wonder why my two year old is bossing me around and further more why am I letting him? Because he is allowed his privacy, and I certainly don’t like anyone leering at me in that situation, so I oblige the kid. I hear grunting and groaning and a couple of times he yells to me to make sure that I am on the couch and not anywhere near the bathroom, and five minutes later he emerges, with his business done. Oh, and did I mention that while sitting on the potty Wyatt reads books, like his dad?!?! I snapped a picture of him reading a vintage Sweet Pickles book that was mine when I was little. He actually sits and looks through all the pages. Is there another 2 year old kid in the world reading while on the throne?!? He is a bossy, bookreading-on-the-toilet kind of kid- this is how I know he is ours.

No pressure, just raise a perfect child (posted Sept 2009)

Sometimes I get scared. It catches me off guard while watching my little boy play, and I start to realize that I can really irrevocably screw up my child. I can inflate or deflate his ego, empower or suppress him, and clarify or confuse him about his place in this crazy world. I can either create a Hilter or a Ghandi and who am I kidding, I am so not ready to take that kind of responsibility. Is anyone ever ready for that kind of responsibility? The idea of making a human being and birthing him is way easier for me to wrap my head around than the idea of me teaching him life lessons and habits that will ultimately make him a success or a failure at life. The last thing in the world that I want to do is talk to him through a phone and look at him through plexiglas in the State Pen, lamenting that I didn’t hold him enough when he was a baby, or love him enough, or discipline him enough or whatever.



Since my time machine is broken and refuses to stay on pause, the shaping of the little human has begun, and good or bad he is becoming his own person. Right now Wyatt is finding his own voice. This is both exciting and petrifying. When he opens his mouth he either says something so sweet it melts your heart or something so crushing it breaks it. Case in point: yesterday I went in to get him out of bed and instead of the ear to ear smile and hug I wanted, I got the scowl-faced-screamer yelling, “Not you! Not you! No. I wan Dada!” This, undoubtedly, crushes my heart. That little monster continued to terrorize me all day telling me “not you, not you, not you,” at every turn (talk about a Debby Downer). Then later in the evening, as if the previous hours of mommy abuse hadn’t even happened, he excitedly climbs up on the counter as I begin to cook dinner and says, with all the enthusiasm of your 6th grade best friend who you haven’t seen all summer because she’s been away at a fantastically fun summer camp you didn’t get to go to, “I help you? I help you Mama? We cook muppins?!” I forget the fowl morning mood and we begin to cook dinner together like old friends who have never been apart, and we catch up on the summer’s adventures- so to speak. We are a work in progress, my little family. We will have bumps the in the road, and, I am sure, knock-down-drag-out fights (because we are the most stubborn people in the world). I hope that we don’t scar each other too much and can always say that we each know we are irreplaceable and loved beyond measure- oh and I hope I don’t get a call from the state pen EVER, you hear that Wyatt? EVER.

Thirty (posted Aug 28, 2009)

Today my husband turns thirty. Thirty. I remember when we met and I was 18 and he was 20. Such a long time ago yet it seems like yesterday. We met as mere babes and have spent the last decade growing up together. Growing up, and growing older, and changing. Our changes are nothing short of incredible. We used to pull all-nighters to study for mid-terms and to fight like passionate idiots, now we pull all-nighters to nurse our little boy’s cold and soothe him back to sleep after nightmares. Cafeteria food three meals a day, paid for by our parents, have been replaced by home cooked meals paid for by us. The days when what we worried most about was "how are we going to survive being apart for an entire summer?" have been replaced by "how are we going to survive in this crazy world on our own?" We have moved over 1800 miles together and made our way to the Wild West, bought our own house and started our own family. My hair has grown 18 inches since we first met and my heart has grown right along with it. I owe that to him, for the only thing bigger than my husband’s physique is his heart- his tender, all consuming heart. He is the kind of man that won’t watch the news and read headlines of murder and incest because it is too raw. Too real. Too cruel. He is a feeler and I, I am a thinker who needs to work on the feeling. He is the meat to my potatoes, and he has balanced me out and taught me to laugh again even when that is the last thing in the world I wanted to do.


Over the last decade we have been there for each other. We have cursed the “Man” for keeping us down and praised God for blessing us with a baby boy. We have learned to trust and believe in each other even when we haven’t believed in ourselves. We have been each other’s best friends and biggest fans. Turning 30 doesn’t mark the end of anything or the beginning either, because we continue. We continue the journey we started so long ago; the journey of growing up and every year we get a little wiser and, true, a little older. But he will always have my love, my passion, my honesty, and my heart no matter how old we get. I cannot wait to see what the next decade holds and where his 40th birthday will find us.

Bear Hunt Part Deux (posted Aug 2009)

I need to follow up the Bear Hunt post with what happened last night. Wyatt woke up fearing for his life, covered in sweat, screaming about bears in his room. Brett came to his rescue and tried to pat him back to sleep and calm his fears, to no avail. Thirty minutes later Wyatt is screaming again and banging on his door to be let out because bears are chasing him. I go in and sweep him off the floor and he says in the sweetest most scared tone I have ever heard, “Mama hold me peas. Bears. Da Bears.” He wraps both arms tightly around my neck and doesn’t let go. I end up taking him to our bed where he entwines his body in mine and tries with all his might to go back to sleep. Flash forward 2 hours and he is still wriggling around talking about bears and now lions and dolphins that are going to “get me”. What? At this point we hear Bentley begin to snore, which unfortunately is so loud and deep that is sounds like a lion. And OH MY GOSH THERE REALLY IS A LION IN THE ROOM! Wyatt starts to freak out all over again. “Mama wat dat dound? Wat dat dound? A Yion? A Yion, Mama, in you room?!!!” I really feel horrible for inflecting such anxiety and fear on the poor child. I think we might have to perform a bear exorcism or set up a bear trap around his room to calm his fears, ahhhh, or maybe arm him with “Bear Spray” i.e. a water bottle when he thinks he sees them. Do you think he is too young for the Red Rider BB Gun we have in the garage?

Bear Hunt (posted Aug 2009)

My favorite memories of my crappy elementary school come only from the 3rd grade with my favorite teacher Mrs. McKenzie and not from any of my other five teachers from hell. Certainly not from Mrs. Lapp who put me in the stupid level reading group as punishment from talking ALL the time and never shutting up, and certainly not from Mr. Banks who sent me to the Principal's office in 5th grade for writing catty letters fit for the movie "Mean Girls" (the nerve!). Mrs. McKenzie was different. She was a sweet nurturing teacher who loved to read aloud to the class, or at least pretended for our sake to love to read. She would sit atop her stool by the black board and read riveting tales from "Where the Red Fern Grows" and "How to Eat Fried Worms". I adored her. Perhaps the most exciting time was when she would give in to our cries on a rainy days when we couldn't play outside and pull out the "Going on a Bear Hunt" story. If you never had the joy of experiencing this book in the way that our Third Grade Class of 1989 did, I feel for you. We got to pound our hands our desk and stomp our feet on cue, make a ton of noise and let out all of our energy. The book reads in a sing-song fashion and goes like this:

(Leader)

We're going on a bear hunt!

(Group)

We're going on a bear hunt!



We're gonna catch a big one!

We're gonna catch a big one!

I'm not afraid!

I'm not afraid!

Are you?

Are you?

Not me!

Not me!

Here comes the gate

" " (Group Echos)

Now we're on a bear hunt " "

We're gonna catch a big one " "

I'm not afraid " "

Are you? " " Not me! " "

We're coming to a tall mountain " "

It sure is high " "

It sure is wide " "

Let's climb up it " "

Well, there's nothing over there " "

Nothing over there " "

Nothing back there " "

Hey! Wait! I think I see something

Quick! Everybody run down!

Shhh, it's a cave " "

Looks like the kind of cave that B-bears live in " "

I don't know if I want to go in there

You think we oughta go in?

Are you nuts?

There's probably a bear in there

All right I'll go in, You stay here,

And if I find a bear, I'll come out and get you

And we'll all go in and grab him together

Now, quiet, don't make a sound while I'm in that cave,

Cuz if you wake him up, I'll be in trouble

Bears are awful ornery when they first wake up, you know

OK, I'm going on in

Oooo, It's dark in here

It's really dark in here

I can't see a thing

Agh, there's spiders webs

Ooo, what was that???

What's this??.... it's soft, uh oh,it's kind of fuzzy

Ahg!!!!!!!!! Run! Everybody run!!

I saw a bear!!!!

Jump in the water! Swim fast!!

Do the backstroke!

The sidestroke, the doggie paddle

Jump out of the water

Run through the mud!

Forget the tree!!

Go through the tall grass

The short grass

Quick! Go up the mountain

Down the other side

Go thru the gate

Into the house, under the bed

Under the pillow

Hide!!!!!

Uh, it's awful quiet around here

I'm not afraid

I'm not afraid

Are you?

Are you?

Fast forward 20 years later. Wyatt, Brett and Mary and I went to Borders to look at books for Wyatt. And what did I find? Tucked away in between two large hard back books I spotted a little paper back copy of "Going on a Bear Hunt"! I was so excited that I was finally going to get to be Mrs. McKenzie! I was going to share the joy of the hunt with my little boy. He was going to love it. I read it as soon as we got home, of course. He listened with intensity and when it was over he said "Goo gen" (which means "do it again"). We read it over and over- probably 15 times over the course of three weeks. Then suddenly he stopped asking for it. When I would suggest that we go on a Bear Hunt, he would immediately say "NO". I decided that we just might need a break from hunting and put the book away on the shelf in his room, and I shelved it in a corner of my mind as well. I sort of forgot about "Going on a Bear Hunt."

Fast forward to 7 am this morning. Wyatt is screaming in his room. Not the usual "come get me out of bed" scream. But a scared scream. "Dada, Dada," he keeps saying over and over. I open the door and he is looking horror-stricken at the window. He looks up at me and continues to cry and ask for Dada. Sensing something was wrong, I ask if he had a bad dream. "Yeah, I carred (scared). Da Bear oba deya (over there)," he points at the window and his eyes grow large. It seems he hadn't forgotten about "Going on a Bear Hunt".

Oh no. I have succeeded in scaring the crap out of my two year old. I didn't have enough foresight to see this coming. And, for that, I am an idiot. Let's face it, the age in which a child can see that the perceived threat of a bear coming into his house is unrealistic is probably somewhere around first grade, maybe later. I was 8 years old after all when I fell in love with the book. I cannot help but feel on par with the parent that lets her 5 year old watch horror movies like "Chucky" and "Friday the 13th." I bet Mrs. McKenzie didn't let her cute son Cameron (whom I only saw in pictures on her desk, but still had an uber-crush on) read horrifying books about being chased by bears when he was but a baby. Mrs. Lapp on the other hand, that evil B*&@, I bet she tortured her children with books like this when they were bad!

Tooprise (posted Aug. 2009)

It’s no secret that I have been a little crabby lately. The pressure of waiting to find out if I was pregnant was more than I could take. So last Friday night right after Brett and I had snuggled into bed, Wyatt climbed out of his. He was banging his head on the bedroom door and screaming “Daddy”. The obvious answer to this, I thought, was that whomever he was calling for should go to his aid (This would not, however, have been my feeling if it was my name he was calling I am fairly confident). Brett did not share my sentiment and tried to persuade me to go get him. Playing to my motherly side he urged “Come on Mommy, you know you want to go in and get your little boy.” I am not buying it “No, Mommy wants to lie on her arse in bed after a long day while Daddy does it. After all, it is your turn and I am going to be pissed if you make me get up.” He persisted “Awww when you go in there he is going to put his head on your shoulder and you can pat him to sleep.” I am still not buying it, “No way am I leaning over that crib and patting him to sleep, my back feels like elephants walked across it all day, plus I might be pregnant don’t I get a pass on this one?” “No way. Get up,” he said. “I hate you,” I yelled as I rolled out of bed.

Begrudgingly, I go into his room and I can barely open the door because he is camped out with his pillow, blanket, and cup right in front of the door. I sweep him up and walk him over to his bed. He lays his head on my shoulder and whispers in my ear, “Mommy, I have a ‘tooprise por you’.” We are really into surprises at our house, and usually when Wyatt says he has a surprise for us he doesn’t follow it up and tell us what the surprise is. It just must have a nice ring in his ears. I whisper back, “Oh I hope it is a big kiss for me on my lips.” He lifts his sleepy head up and plants two large wet kisses on me. I must have been making some sort of noise like “mmmmm or aaaaaaaa” because, he then whispers, “You yike it Momma?” “Yes Wyatt, I love it,” I whisper back. “You yub it?” he repeats. I put him down in his bed and he doesn’t protest. I tell him good night and that I love him. As I am walking to the door he says in a sleepy voice, “Yub you, maddow.” Translates to ‘I love you see you tomorrow’. This just proves that sometimes the really good parts of being a parent come when you have to sacrifice your sleep and energy. I’d like to say that this will make me want to put him back to bed every night when he crawls out of bed, but I am a bean counter and I am keeping track, Brett.

His hair is allergic to water (posted July 2009)

Yesterday we spent a fabulous day in my favorite Sunday spot, Santa Monica. We hit up the farmers market and went to play on the beach. Wyatt had an absolute blast, skipped his nap and slept the whole way home. Aaahh. This morning I told Brett that Wyatt needed a bath because I was sure he was covered in sand and he needed his hair washed. He would rather die than get his hair wet under the faucet or in the tub for that matter (think cat in a bathtub), so when I checked in with Brett this morning he of course had a story for me.


Wyatt completely lost his mind when Brett got his hair wet. He held his breath until his lips turned a deep shade of eggplant and let out whales that were sure to have the neighbors calling Child Protective Services. Brett was so shocked by how much he was freaking out- which is saying a lot. He flailed around and slapped Brett away screaming "Don't touch me!" This continued until Brett finally got the soap of his hair. At which point he noticed that Wyatt had thrown such a wild fit that he gave himself a bloody nose! At this time Wyatt also realized that he was bleeding because the blood was running into his mouth. He was spitting the blood out at Brett and all over the bathroom. He wriggled away and got out of the tub and sprinted for the living room, Brett chasing after him praying he wouldn't bust his head on the concrete floors. He managed to catch him long enough to pat his little body dry. Wyatt made it to the couch and sat with his arms crossed in an “I’m so mad,” stance while he tried to be invisible so that Brett wouldn’t torture him anymore!

In the eye of the beholder... (posted July 24, 2009)

Wyatt just said the best thing in the world to me! I took a shower and came out with wet hair and put Wyatt in his high chair to eat. While I was helping him with his mash potatoes he looks up at me and says, "Mommy you hair pretty." I was so shocked. I looked at Brett and said "Did you hear what he just said? Wyatt tell Daddy!" "Mommy hair pretty," he said it sort of sheepishly like he was a little embarrassed and proud of himself at the same time. "Aww buddy that is so nice," Brett encouraged. I made a HUGE deal out of it saying something about how handsome he was and how much I loved him. I gushed. I guess he must have like the attention becuase he followed up with the whopper, "Mommy you bue-ta-pull!" "What? What? What did you say, you devishly charming little hunk of baby love? You precious little darling monkey-wa-wa (mommy/baby love name)!" He was all smiles. I could have kissed him all over and gobbled him up I was so overflowing with love and pride. My child thinks I am beautiful, Nah-nee, Nah-nee, Nah-nee!! The next morning I watched him kiss Chloe on the head and whisper to her "You bue-ta-pul." So sweet, but the compliment lost a little of its charm after he gave it to the chihuahua!

Unruly Hair

Friday we decided that we were going to go to San Diego Zoo. We talked it up to Wyatt and got him good and excited.


ME: "We're going to the zoo to see lions and tigers and snakes."

Wyatt: "And famingos?"

ME: "Yes, flamingos."

Wyatt: "And cacadiwels?"

ME: "Yes, crocodiles."



I really had him hooked at this point so I decided to roll with it.



ME: "Should we brush your hair?"

Wyatt: -shakes his head wildly no

ME: "Oh you really should because the flamingos really like it when little boys brush their hair. They will look at you and say 'look how handsome he is with his hair brushed'."

Wyatt: Yeah baashh my haya.



And for the first time that I can remember Wyatt let me brush his hair for more than two seconds without screaming- and it looked good. We loaded him up in the car, buckled him in, and went over the details of where we were going again.



ME: "Are you ready to go to the zoo to see all the animals?"

Wyatt: "Yeah they yike my haya."



I am sure he was the talk of the flamingo pond.

Willie Anyone (posted July 2009)

I almost forgot. Wyatt asked me to tickle his Willie.

Let me back up. Willie is the name for his boy part, and we were lying on the bed watching a movie and I started softly tickling his back, then his belly. I stopped and he looked up at me and said "Tickle my Weyee Mama. Tickle my Weyee." Um no. Which is precisely what I told him. To which he whinned "Whhhhhhyyyyyy?" Seriously smart kid. I wonder how many girls will fall for that in highschool?

Up and Away (posted July 2009)

I stare at his face more now than I ever have before. I am mesmerized by the roundness of his checks, the soft curve of his nose, the full pucker of his lips. Not quite a boy, certainly not a baby. I feel the sharp angles and bones of boyhood starting to creep their pointy figures into his delicate silhouette. I search the tone of his voice; listening for any sign marking the end of babyhood, waiting for the voice I adore to crack and then disappear. A soprano replaced by a baritone. While now he talks and walks, plays on his own, and tells me 'no', I find him simultaneously slipping away and clinging to me. Our relationship is growing ever closer- we have our own language. He coos and whimpers; he rubs his head on my body like a cat caressing a leg. He must inexplicably sense I am waiting in helpless anguish for him to grow up and away from me, thus he gives me his love in the way a child knows how- he pats my face, kisses my lips, and rests in the curve of my arm. Thank you, my baby, for giving me this short reprieve.

I think the Italians call it "Preggo" (posted June 29, 2009)

Is the world ready for another Murdock? Well ready or not here he/she comes! I am officially pregnant with baby #2. Though we of course don’t know the sex, the Chinese Lunar calendar (which is infallible in my opinion) says it will be a girl!


I know I said I didn’t want anymore kids until Wyatt was at least 5, and I know I said I never wanted a girl. But it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. This is coming from the same girl who filled out her application to join the Peace Corps after college and then decided the Air Force was the place to be (changed my mind on both of those thankfully). So, really this isn’t that much of a drastic change in direction. And I feel like it is happening at the exact moment it is suppose to happen.


Researcher that I am, I have done a complete astrological work up on her. She will be a Pisces and apparently a dreamer and an emotional wreck (sounds like a good mix of Brett and me!) And the icing on the cake is that the best parents for this sign are a Virgo Father and a Cancer Mother. Which happen to be our respective signs. If you don’t believe in any of this astrology crap (because astrology is from the devil) then you can disregard it, but keep in mind that the bible says that the destiny is written in the stars.


Another amazing tidbit of information came when I read my cards, thinking that I might be pregnant. I asked for a sign as to what the sex might be (Yes, I am a bit of a card reader), and I actually got a spread that had a card for a young woman or girl, and a card signifying a wish being granted, followed by a card signifying that a period of waiting would begin. That is when I knew I was pregnant. Actually, I didn’t need a sign. I swear I could feel it in my bones. The best part of the whole thing is that I also got a combination of cards showing I was being looked after by someone who had recently passed. (Wink right back atcha Granny.)



Planner that I am, I have already picked out a name. You may know that I recently proclaimed if I ever had a girl (god forbid) I was going to name her Lady Scarlett. Well, I have given up on Lady Scarlett. The reactions to that one have made me take a long hard look at the consequences. The Lady and the Tramp reference was perhaps the most alarming. I have never really watched that movie, so when I think of Lady, I do not think of a dog eating spaghetti. Too bad the rest of the world does.


So what is the new name? Olive Ilene Murdock. Brett’s favorite art professor in college had a daughter named Olive. A crazy hippie painter who killed too many brain cells in the 60’s decided to name his daughter Olive. Really? We figured her middle name was something like Aquarius. Ridiculous, we thought at the time. But now, for some reason, maybe age and the quest for a unique name in a sea of Maddison’s and Ava’s, Olive just seems right. The middle name is for the aforementioned Granny- a strong, independent, hilarious, classy woman whom I miss dearly. What a great namesake.



Some of you might say that I have jumped the gun on this one. “You shouldn’t tell people about the baby until after the first trimester.” Ya, ya, ya. I have heard that before. If there is one thing you should know about my personality it is that if at all possible, I try not to wait for anything. I open my presents before Christmas, buy something if I want it, and find it impossible to keep a surprise a secret. Patience is not my forte. I have faith that it will all work out magnificently. And if not, (god forbid) then everyone will be there to help me pick up the pieces knowing the history of the situation. And if you really want to know the truth, the horrible truth, I wrote this blog before even taking the pregnancy test! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Update- here is a 6 week pic of the bean:

Pee Pee in the Potty (posted June 2009)

For Wyatt's 2nd Birthday our friend Kassie got him a Potty Elmo. Which is ingenious. It has a little pretend potty and comes with a hilarious video with songs about poop and pee (click the word video to view it for all you novices out there!). Wyatt watched the movie for the first time intently and even asked for it a couple more times after that. It is hard to tell how much it has helped. He has been doing average potty training. Hit and miss really. He has peed on the floor numerous times and crapped in the closet. But, the other day I actually saw first hand that he had comprehended what he was watching on the Potty Elmo video.

I came into the bedroom where Brett had fallen asleep and Wyatt was watching a movie. He had taken his diaper off, which he as been doing with increasing frequency. No big suprise there, but I wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to pee on the floor. So, I made him go pee in the potty, or sit on the potty I should say, because he never peed. When I came back into the room I saw that Elmo's potty was in the floor. I went in to take a closer look and I noticed that the pretend potty had something in it that wasn't pretend. For the life of me I don't know how Wyatt could have peed in such a small potty (think 4 inches wide), but he did. He didn't miss at all. Needless to say the vessel wasn't quite large enough for a real boy, so some of it overflowed down the sides. Wyatt came in behind me about that time and I asked him who peed in Elmo's potty. "ME!" he annouced pointing to his chest- so proud of himself too. I didn't have the heart to chastise him. After all, he saw it on TV, and Elmo expressly told him to go pee in the potty! Thanks Kassie.

Peanut Butter (posted June12, 2009)

I have it pretty good, I have to say. My loving husband makes breakfast every morning. Eggs, bacon, and toast with peanut butter. While I take mine to go and fly out the door to work, he and Wyatt sit down together and eat. The other morning Brett called me freaking out. This is the story he told:



"So I made breakfast this morning and I had to poop (nothing unsual here), so I gave Wyatt the jar of peanut butter to keep him busy. (Way to go Dad!) When I was done I came back to sit down and eat, and Wyatt came up to me and said "Oh no Daddy, look". He held up his hand and I saw it was covered in peanut butter (that is kind of what you can expect when you give a kid a WHOLE tub of peanut butter). I told him it was fine and to just lick it (it's like evolution of the human race never happened). He didn't want to lick it himself, so he put his fingers in my mouth. While the fingers were in my mouth I thought, what if this is not peanut butter? I yanked his fingers out just nano seconds before the touched my tongue and I smelled them, and they smelled. They smelled bad." No folks, the peanut butter had not gone bad. Wyatt didn't have peanut butter on his fingers, but he did have a full diaper. Wasn't it nice of him to feed Daddy?!?!?!