Thursday, October 31, 2013

Zombified!

"I just blew a booger out of my nose and it was white!" -Will, bemoaning an apparent drawback of white grease "zombie" makeup

"Guess what that song's about?  Wetting the bed!"  -James, on the Violent Femmes' Blister in the Sun

Scary zombies were all the rage in our neighborhood this Halloween.  While our kids were regular, run-of-the-mill, Martha Stewart Everyday-wear zombies, one of their buddies was a 'rock & roll' zombie with a guitar prop.  And another zombie friend seemed to have the blood spatter and oatmeal gore thing down to a science.

Zach wasn't a zombie, though.  Couldn't bring myself to put grease makeup on a two-month-old baby, so we Goodwilled it until we found something in the 0-6 months size range.  He was, quite charmingly, a baby pumpkin.

But I'm seeing a theme costume in our family's future: zombie football players, zombie referees, a zombie cheerleader, and a baby zombie football.

Will and James, looking more Charlie Sheenish than I'm comfortable with.

Zach attack, calling it a night after handing out candy with me.

Left to Right: James, Faded Scarecrow stolen by the men's swim team that was accidentally moved with us to the West Coast, Will, Elise's BFF, and Elise.  F. Scarecrow has seen better days.





Saturday, October 5, 2013

My Little Pony

Zach farts a lot.  Most of the time, whether he is awake or mostly asleep, he is farting or trying hard to fart.  The result is that he sounds like a grunting, straining, whinnying little pony.  Poor, gassy little baby!

"Za--a--a--ach Baxter!" [whinny whinny whinny]

It is weird.  Our other kids' repertoire of noises at 6 weeks old included "Donald Ducking" (James), bleating like Stevie Nicks in a South Park Episode (Will), and saying "Nah!  Nah!" in ultra-feminine fashion when crying (Elise).  But not sounding equine.  I am starting to wonder if something is wrong with him.  He coos, rolls over from front to back, cries, eats, poops, and pees just fine.  He smiles (and my heart doth sing!).  He is gaining weight well and growing tremendously.  But seriously, most of his time is spent grunting and whinnying and trying to expel something'r'uther from his bottom.  Should I look into whether the Guinness Book has a record for this sort of thing: most farts per kilogram of infant body weight in a 10-consecutive-minute period?

I do remember James farting a lot, too, and it was shocking and hilarious because it usually sounded so deep that it should have been coming from an adult's anus.  Thus began one of the primal bonding activities between father and child(ren).  Nowadays, farts are the comedic glue that holds our family together.  But We The Parents have long since stopped laughing at Zach, because he does it so often!  How can so much bad air come from such a tiny digestive tract?

One of my favorite things to do with my husband only forms of recourse against Joe's ubiquitous farts is to immediately tell him what his most recent emanation sounded like.  My God, that sounded just like a towel ripping in half.  Jeez, that was totally just like someone stomping on an empty juice box with both feet.  Air letting out of the stretched neck of a giant, "punching bag" balloon.  Marbles hitting a tile floor.  Lotion being pumped out of an almost-empty bottle of Jergen's.  Somebody squeezing a cat.  A note blown into a recorder with all of its finger holes uncovered.  A full cup of Top Ramen being thrown at the wall.  Marge Simpson's moan of skepticism.

Zach's farts sound like Marge Simpson's voice actress blowing bubbles through a straw into a jar of spaghetti sauce.  Or Donald Duck playing the "cat bagpipes" while Huey, Dewey, and Louie wail in protest.  Maybe I will switch him to some kind of formula, because apparently my breastmilk is filled with helium bubbles or whatever offensive liquid it is Marge Simpson is gargling with.