I dunno

Thanks Dayna for the picture. Josh and I realized we have very few pictures of Chet. Not because we don't like him (we do now, he's older and puking less), but because he doesn't necessarily do anything that merits a photo. Usually when we take a picture, it's because Rip made us laugh. Chet has not really done much of that. He smiles, rolls around, but he certainly does not insist on looking at us out of the corner of his eye (Rip), or kick Josh randomly in the head (Rip again), and he certainly does not make up his own sign language (yes, Rip not only signs, but makes up signs for words he doesn't know; genius). Still, looking at his little face does make me smile. Still can't wait for him to be one, though.

So we went to some friends' ranch, which ended up being seriously one of the funnest trips ever. I don't really want to narrate what's happening in each photo, but just know that if you see us sitting on a four wheeler, assume we went four wheeling. See horses? We rode them. Get the idea?

I do want to add that while on this trip I was again reminded how unattractive I actually am. It only takes a few pictures with no makeup to remember that God gave us mascara for a reason. That reason is to make my face less offensive. It also didn't help that the other wives all weigh an accumulative 85 lbs and have perfect hair (seriously people. How does your hair look that good while at a ranch with dirt everywhere? Defies physics is what it does). The funny thing is that it doesn't bother me all that much. I guess I'm coming to grips with my love handles.

Booty Shorts

I thought about doing a post without mentioning the boys, but who am I kidding? My entire life revolves around these two and their issues.

Here is Chet with hair. Hair makes him angry. This must have been a month ago.

Here is Chet in the process of losing his hair. Rip lost his hair too, but a lot earlier. And yes, Chet spends a lot of his life in the bjorn. This makes him happy, only he doesn't look happy, he looks surprised. Either way, he doesn't cry in the bjorn, and so I don't feel like leaving him at a homeless shelter while he's in the bjorn. It works.

This is Rip sucking down a bottle. He is off bottles, only he isn't when he asks for one. What can I say, I could care less if the kid gets a bottle of milk (Josh feels differently, but as soon as he spends 24 hours a day with the offspring, his feelings will matter). And you can't see, but he's pointing to Chet. Usually when Chet is crying and I'm not in the room, Rip will find me and pull on my legs until I go and pick Chet up. He doesn't like it when he cries. Chet isn't crying, but he might have made a noise. Rip likes to point out anything Chet does (i.e. nothing) to me. Chet makes a noise, Rip laughs and points at him. Yes, Rip. Chet is absolutely fascinating.

And this is our newest solution to Rip being obsessed with the computer. Strap on the headphones and then we don't have to listen to the annoying kids' stuff he insists on watching (for some reason, Rip has no interest in Shark Tank). Never mind that the headphones are huge. With this kid's genetics, he's doomed for a life of small headedness. Headphones will always be huge.

Yup. Rip has discovered the toilet to be the most fascinating thing in the entire world. He loves finding things to put in it, putting his hands in it, and driving his cars in it. He has only just realized he can actually put his feet in it, and this has taken his love for the toilet to the next level.

But I do think it deserves mentioning that I played in the UVU alumni game this last Saturday. Now, I know I'm old and all, but when did girl soccer players start tucking their shorts into their underwear? And why? We were playing at 6 pm; no chance of tan lines. I'm still not over it. All I could focus on was the 25 feet of thigh (these girls were tall) being exposed and the inevitable wedgie you know where. Disturbing. Very disturbing. So if you're 18 and playing soccer, please explain to my why rolling your shorts to sheer skankiness helps you play better. Maybe  a diversion? Can't be sure. Only thing I'm sure about is that the length of the shorts on these girls could not be more than 2 inches and Barbie wears more fabric. Hmm. Maybe I'm older than I think.

Also, Josh got the fellowship so we will definitely be heading to New York this fall. So if you're interested in buying basically everything we own, since we are bound to live in some kind of glorified bomb shelter and will be unable to fit any of it in the said bomb shelter, please email me. Items for sale include house, lawn mower, car, computer, skis, soccer shorts measuring longer than 4 inches, Chet, and couches that Chet has redecorated with his puke. Remember, these items will go fast, especially the puke couch, so email me soon.

Update Update!!

Here is an update with no pictures. Sorry. A combination of not taking any and not being sure how to get them off the camera makes for a very sad blog indeed. Pretty sure I was born in the wrong time period. Here  goes anyway.

Chet is still a baby. Although he is just barely 3 months, it seems like he should be 12 years old by now. Time stands still when you have a newborn. He smiles, laughs, and does basically nothing. Chet loves the bjorn and will sit strapped to my chest for hours. He even falls asleep that way. Again, he basically does not have much going on.

He did sleep through the night for a week or two, but has since decided that going too long without eating is completely out of the question. He even reverted to waking up twice a few nights ago. Needless to say, I was not impressed. I have also not been impressed with his reflux. If you've ever had a baby with reflux, I'm sorry. It's awful. Projectile vomiting throughout the entire day plus crying while eating makes for one sad baby and one angry mom. However, we've been giving him some medicine for it and it has worked wonders. He still spits up and still doesn't nurse for longer than 5 minutes at a time, but it's a vast improvement and I'm sure very interesting information for everyone.

Rip is 19 months old and is way more interesting than Chet. He is NAUGHTY but way more entertaining. His favorite things include using my makeup brushes to apply makeup on Chet, making out with Chet, and thinking about making out with Chet. He likes Chet. A lot. He is also loves all things boy. He loves cars, balls, wrestling, and being wussy.

Josh is currently in Ithaca, New York, interviewing for a fellowship that will pay for the entirety of school. If you don't know, Josh is going back to school for his MBA. We plan on going to Cornell this fall (yes, the same school as the Nard Dog), and are still unsure what we're doing with our house, so don't ask unless you want to buy it for millions.

Me. Hmm... not much going on. I'm currently not pregnant so that feels sort of eventful. I'm preparing for a half-marathon, which only involves running at the most twice a week. Yeah, I'm either going to die or just run the first mile and then call it quits. I should probably train better, but when am I going to manage that? I'm a full time breastfeeder. Chet eats every two hours and sometimes sooner (again, reflux is the bane of my existence). I feel like my entire job is feeding that kid and trying to keep the puke down. It's exhausting. Not to mention disgusting. Anyway, nothing that new or exciting about me, other than I just ordered a new breast pump. Josh got a new computer and asked me, "Hey, since I'm getting a new computer, do you want a new breast pump?" Wow. So that's where things are at, then? Sad. Even more sad that I took him up on it. Hello Medela!

The Robbins Curse

Yup. I'm in one of those moods. You know what mood I'm talking about. That mood where you feel like telling the woman at the grocery store who just smiled at you to go to hell. The mood where your kid is desperately trying to hand you the same book you've already read 40 million times that day and all you want to do is huck that flipping book into a wall as hard as you can, just to get your point across that you absolutely hate Dr. Seuss' Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb book. The mood where you are seriously considering leaving your 18 month old in charge of the 2 month old, geared with a couple of bottles and some spare diapers and a slip of paper letting Child Protective Services know that you'll be back when the kids are potty trained and uninterested in being held 24 hours a day.

Now you might be thinking that this isn't as much a mood, but rather my personality, and you might be right. But regardless, I'm feeling especially irritable today and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that my bathroom is torn apart (Josh was going to re-tile it, found mold, ripped up all the subfloors, midfloors, and whatever else was keeping us from falling into the basement, and is now waiting until Saturday to fix it all), the garage door stopped working and Josh spent last night replacing that, the blinds in the front room got broken and I'm told they can be fixed and not to just buy new ones, and finally, Chet is doing is very best to puke on every last available surface in the entire house (reflux anyone?). I think what it comes down to is that Josh has spent every waking minute working, ripping, fixing, or replacing so I've been left with both kids day in and day out. I'm sort of sick of them.

It doesn't help that the small one seems to always be awake. He takes 30 minute naps and then is livid when I do not tote his small person around, showing him all the wonders that is our house. Needless to say, he spends a lot of time either in the bjorn or crying his little face off because he is not somehow strapped to my body. I've told him to man up, but he doesn't seem to understand. He has taken to trying to talk to me and although sort of cute, I've told him it's pointless since his brother doesn't really talk, I doubt he will either.

The big one isn't any better. He is turning 2 this year and is doing his best to demonstrate what 2 means. Many more dramatic tantrums to come, I'm sure. He is still refusing to speak, but he does use sign language (no, he is not deaf) to communicate. Very likely the reason he does not speak. Oh well.

He also has decided that when I'm carrying baby up the stairs, he is suddenly paralyzed and unable to climb the stairs either. Needless to say, my new exercise routine involves carrying both invalids up the stairs 40 times a day. I should be skinnier, but eating 28 cookies a day seems to be my undoing.

This is from this last Sunday where we blessed Chet. Nice background, I know. Whatever. Just oogle at our incredible family.

Boys

First off, I did not do that advertisement thing. In fact, I just noticed it and asked Josh what in the hell it was. Josh said he put it on there, so I take no blame/responsibility for it. FYI.

I have to say though, that I'm getting more and more excited about these two boys. *gasp* There. I said it. But I am. I get even more excited when I come in the room to find Rip laying on top of Chet in his swing and I go to rip him off when I realize that Chet is smiling as big as ever at his older brother. Can't be sure whether this has more to do with the brain damage he just suffered from being suffocated, but either way, if they aren't screaming, I'm not stopping it.

And when Rip is in the bath and Josh  holds Chet in the bath with Rip and Rip can hardly contain his sheer excitement and begins diving all over the bath and thereby drowning Chet, but Chet seems to think this is sort of cool and smiles and tries to watch Rip, that sort of makes me happy about the two boys too.

And even when Rip is trying to shove Chet's binky in his mouth and is convinced that if he pushes it in Chet's eye hard enough, it will eventually make it in his mouth, this makes me happy too. Because Rip doesn't want Chet to cry and has seen me do the same thing (except in his mouth, not his eye), and is really only trying to help his brother, or so I like to believe.

And when I'm nursing Chet while Rip is watching Sesame Street and Chet is straining his little neck to stare at Rip, I like that too. Except I don't really and I usually tell Chet to knock it off. But it's sort of sweet for a second.

The bottom line is I sort of like these boys. Not all the time and usually not during breakfast, lunch, or dinner since Rip is a complete nightmare when it comes to eating and that is usually when Chet decides he is starving as well, but in between the awful feeding times, these boys are pretty cool. Can't wait for Chet to become more conscious and Rip to become less caveman-like (the boy refuses to talk and opts instead to sign random nonsensical things to me. "You ready to go to sleep, Rippy?"   Rippy: Sign for banana. Okay... Yeah. He watches a lot of Signing Times).

Cookies

This is me making sugar cookies while holding the Cheddar Chet (I just made that up; I amaze myself). I am both domestic and nurturing. Be impressed. Yes. He fell asleep within 3 minutes of being in this position. I, however, did not.

I've been looking at pictures of Rip, comparing the likeness/dislikeness (I'm aware it isn't a word... back off know-it-all) of the two boys, and I've ultimately decided that 1) They actually sort of look alike 2) Chet has way more hair at this stage than Rip did (not very hard to do... ) and 3) For some reason my kids look shocked and frightened by the world around them. Rip still carries that expression. I'm sort of hoping that Chet will not follow suit.

Oh, and Rip was at least 90 lbs fatter than Chet. Chet isn't scrawny, but he isn't a buddah baby. Rip was a fatso. I do love me some fat babies.

Chet is the first picture and Rip the second. Rip doesn't look that fat in the picture, but keep in mind that this was him at 6 weeks and he was always 90th percentile in both height and weight until 6 months.

And for your viewing pleasure, a quick peek of what we do all day. Well, not all day or I would be skinnier. But rare is the day without some form of Chet attacking Rip. With my help of course.

And please excuse both my love handles and my 'undies.' Apparently it's too confusing for Josh to mention that half my bum is hanging out of my pants. Either that or my bum is always hanging out of my pants and so this is the 'norm' while anything else would be confusing. Can't be sure. Too confused.

6 week update

Two things. Well, three, but who's counting?

First, Chet tried to sleep through the night last night, but being the psycho that I am, I woke him up at 5:30 to feed him because I couldn't sleep after 3 am. I just kept sitting there anticipating him waking up but he never did. So I did it for him. I'm furious with myself. I'm feeling pretty confident that Chet will now never sleep through the night due to me confusing his first and final attempt. Hurray for me.

Two, Chet is 6 weeks today (you feel like he should be 4 years old by now, too?) and he has finally started smiling. The past few days he has kind of smiled at me, to which I informed Josh that Chet is really going to like me; I might even be his favorite (Rip very much favors Josh; real wonder there). Well, Chet looks at me lovingly most of the time (if you count a blank scowl a look of love), and so I figure Rip will love Josh most while Chet will love me most. I discovered that I am horribly off on that, as I am with most things. I was trying to feed Chet and he was trying to stare adoringly at Rip. He then did his best to win Rip over by smiling repeatedly at him. I couldn't believe it. I mean, seriously? You love the guy who has almost crushed your little head about 50 times in the last 24 hours? But it's true. Chet seems quite interested (as interested as a 6 week old can be) in his older and more experienced brother. So here is the order of things. Chet loves Rip, who loves Josh, who loves Rip and Chet. I hate being the only odd man out. Maybe I'll adopt a fish or something.

Third thing is that I am starting to like Chet. Rip hit the 6 month mark and I started liking him. Chet is only 6 weeks and I think I like him. Wonder of wonders! It's probably a combination of me being more prepared and Chet being more likable. I mean, even though he has only sort of smiled at me, I'm pretty sure he likes me. And not just because I'm his 'lunchbox' as my mom describes it, but because he appreciates me for not killing him the first 3 weeks of his life. You're welcome, Chet.

So that's about it. I like Chet, Chet likes Rip, and Rip has not stopped 'patting' Chet's bum since he saw me burping him this morning and is in love with the idea of an acceptable form of hitting. He starts getting a little aggressive after a while so I have to keep an eye on Rip's bum patting. It does make me laugh, though and Chet doesn't seem to mind, either. We have so much fun at our house. Contain your jealousy.