A Lost Cause

Let's play a game, shall we? Here are some old pictures of Shawn and me (that's me on the left, in case you were wondering), coupled with a recent picture of Sam. Who does he look more like? Is there anything about that kid that looks like me??? The hair! His hair fuzz is kinda light-ish...that's like me, right? RIGHT???

Sam's New Kicks

How stinkin' cute is this kid??? Doesn't he look great in his Jesus sandals?

Darrell's World Premier

It occurred to me that some people might not have understood my reference to Darrell Eugene James. So allow me to introduce you: Shawn’s cousin, Jay, has a split-personality alter-ego named Darrell Eugene James. Darrell is one of those stereo-typical guys from Eastern Kentucky that you only see on documentaries. You know the ones—they find the back-woods-iest dude they can and put him on television saying, “This is what EVERYONE in Kentucky is like!”

So anyway, a couple of years ago, we were riding along in the car with Jay, Andrea and Nick when all of the sudden, Darrell is born! Out of nowhere, Jay Darrell starts talking about his job with the volunteer fire department and how he sometimes has to use the jaws of life to excavate people. Around our snorts of laughter (yeah...we really did), Darrell proceeded to tell us how much he loves WalMart because you can buy your shotgun ammo and your Wolverines all in the same place. (There's a thin line between comedic genius and just plain weird...)

Since then, Darrell has made a few appearances at family gatherings, and he has even left a message or two on our answering machine. We're always glad to hear from him, but we suspect that Andrea suppresses him a bit. You can imagine our delight when we ran into Darrell during our last trip to the hills! While he is a bit suspicious of all of this new-fangled technology, he did allow me to record some of his thoughts to share with the world.

So without further adieu, I'm so proud to introduce Darrell Eugene James!

Life Is So Hard

Have you ever had one of those days where you're too tired to even eat?

Goodbye, Melvin Turpin

"Mel Turpin died today."

When Shawn told me that last night, it took a few minutes for my brain to process why I should know that name. Now, before you go getting all impressed with me for recognizing a UK basketball star from yesteryear (believe me, I leave that to Shawn), let me explain. When I was a pharmacy intern working for Kroger, Mr. Turpin was one of our patients. For months, I talked to him every time he came into the pharmacy and didn't know he was a local celebrity. When somebody finally clued me in, I was always a little awestruck that he could be so normal.

Here was a guy who had been revered on campus during his college years and had even played basketball professionally, and he came in to get his medicine every month like a Regular Joe. He was always quietly polite and pleasant. He and his wife seemed happy, and he never complained about a long line or any of the other little inconveniences one might face. He never asked for special treatment, although he probably could have gone into just about any business in town and received red carpet service.

Then, this morning I learned that not only had he died, but he took his own life. How sad. What happens in someone's life that makes things so bad that they just can't go on? What giants was this gentle giant facing that he just couldn't defeat? How can someone who is so well known not have a friend they can turn to?

So, it got me to thinking--who will I encounter today that needs a friendly smile? Am I self-righteous enough to think that a simple act of kindness from me can turn someone's life around? Absolutely not...but what if? What if today I really listen when I say "How are you?" What if today I take an extra minute or two to do something nice for someone, even if it's just holding a door open for them? What if instead of hurrying about my day, I really look into my neighbor's eyes and see the grief that might be there? Would it make a difference?

I don't know, but I wish someone had done that for Mr. Turpin...

Go East, Young Man

Sam enjoyed his first trip to Eastern Kentucky this weekend. I didn't take a lot of pictures (I know...I know), but I was able to pirate this one off of Facebook. (Thank you, Kristi.)

Shawn and his cousins had a chicken fight during the cookout.

What, Shawn encouraging rough-housing??? Never!!

Sam poured on the cute extra thick and passed out lots of smiles and coos. Nana and Pappy had a great time goggling over him, and Sam was excited to have the nonstop attention, although it wore him out!

We also got to get him together with his cousin, Sadie, who is only two months older than Sam.

Don't you just want to squish her cheeks?

They had met once before, but Sam is lots more alert and interactive now, so we were excited to see how they would do together. We waited patiently while one child napped, then the other. Then Sam had to eat... Finally, we were ready for some baby love! We put them together, and Sadie ever so gently reached out and touched Sam on the arm. It was the sweetest gesture! Sam stared at her for a second...then let out an ear-splitting wail. You could almost hear him screaming, "Yuck! Girl cooties!" In response to his crying, Sadie got the biggest grin on her face. Clearly, she knows the power she possesses.

We ran into another interesting character this weekend. Darrell Eugene James had not made an appearance at family gatherings for quite some time (I think at the request of his alter-ego's wife, Andrea), and we missed him. We were so excited to see him again, and I think we actually got the first documented proof of his existence. I'm having some trouble getting the video to upload (or download or whatever). When I can get it worked out, I'll be sure to share his words of wisdom with everyone. See? Now you have something to look forward to!!!

Monkey Butt

I don't know why, but I have called Sam Monkey Butt almost from day 1. This is an outfit he got from his Uncle Don and Aunt Leslie. Appropriate, no?

Sam's Smile

Okay, so I know I'm a little biased, but is this not the prettiest smile in the world? Last night, Sam was in a super-good mood. Bathtime is getting to be less and less traumatic (Thank you, Lord!), and we can usually make it through the whole process now without having a meltdown as long as we start out with a full belly. He generally sits through the bath and goos at me while I sing silly songs to him:

Splish, splash--I was taking a bath

On about a Wednesday night

Rub, dub--I peed in the tub...

The lyrics are inspired by actual events.

He really doesn't like getting out because I can't seem to get him bundled up fast enough, and he gets cold. But once we get greased up and get our jammies on, life is good again. Last night, I had bathed Sam and given him a bedtime snack, and I was trying to get him to calm down and go to sleep when Daddy walked into the room. This was the response he got:

I love that he's starting to recognize us and smile when he sees us. The best part of my day is when I come home and get greeted with one of his big toothless grins.

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet...

The picture quality is not very good (it was taken with Shawn's phone), but look what Sam can do! His neck is getting stronger every day, and he hardly needs any help to hold his head up and look around. (If you can see, in the picture I'm only supporting him under his arms.) He's tolerating lying down less and less. (This makes changing his diaper and getting him dressed interesting...and LOUD!) His favorite position right now is to be up high on my right shoulder with his arms dangling over my back. We call it his Superman position. He just wants to be able to look around and see what's going on.

Tales of Excrement

Why is it that once you become a parent, all you can talk about is pee and poop? I used to make so much fun of my grandmother for being so concerned about the bm's. Anytime anyone was sick, that was the first thing she wanted to know: when was the last time you pooped? I once thought that it was just her generation--old people like to talk about poop. Now I know that once you become a mom, there is a chemical reaction that takes place in your brain that (a) makes you immune to the disgustingness of poop and (b) makes it your #1 concern. Seriously, every day when I drop Sam off at the babysitter's, I tell her when he ate last, how long he's slept and when he pooped.



So, anyway, I have two stories to share.


Story #1
Saturday, Shawn's work had a little potluck dinner in Lexington for the graduating pharmacy residents. We got to the clubhouse where the dinner was being held, and we started unloading the car. I looked at Shawn and asked where the diaper bag was.



Crickets. Then, "I thought you had the diaper bag."



"Um...I thought you had the diaper bag."



More crickets.

We decided that Shawn would go on in with our food since we were already running late (shocker), and Sam and I would go down the street to Kroger and get diapers, wipes and any other essentials we'd need for the evening. After our little shopping excursion, Sam and I went back to the clubhouse, and I tried to lose the Mom Guilt.

Everything was going fine until I got ready to change Sam's diaper. As soon as I took his diaper off, he did his imitation of a fire hydrant (he's almost perfected it), and he soaked his outfit. This is where my mind is flashing to the three--yes THREE--extra outfits I keep in the diaper bag. You know...the one sitting on my kitchen table.

We stripped Sam down to his diaper, and he remained that way for a short time. My mind kept drifting to those poor children you see at WalMart, wearing only a diaper. I always feel so sorry for them that their parents won't put any clothes on them. I think God is trying to teach me a lesson in humility. Luckily, one of Shawn's coworkers has a 4-month-old, and Carson was nice enough to loan us one of his outfits for the rest of the evening.

Story #2
Sam had been fussy pretty much all day Saturday. That's pretty unusual for him--he's normally a happy little guy if he's not tired or hungry. We had checked his temperature and given him Mylicon, but neither of these things provided an answer. Shawn and I were stumped.

When I got up Sunday morning, he was still just not himself. He didn't eat well, and I was starting to get worried. I had decided that if this persisted throughout the day, I was calling the pediatrician.

I put him in his little vibrating seat and turned it on so I could get a shower. I peeked out to check on him a couple of times during my shower, and he was still just unsettled. By the time I got out, though, he was a different baby. He was smiling and talking, kicking his feet and playing with his hands. Glad that he was finally out of his funk, I leaned down to pick him up. And that's when I saw it. There was poop everywhere! I stood there for a second trying to formulate a plan for picking him up & getting him cleaned up without making an even bigger mess. Finally I decided that I'd just have to go in.

Moral of the story: I guess my grandmother was right. When you're not feeling well, a good poop will cure just about anything.