Time for Picture Catch-ups
I know, I know that I suck at this whole keeping-up-to-date on this blog. I don't have a lot of free time, you see, because those Angry Birds aren't going to launch themselves off that giant slingshot.
I keeds wichoo. But still. I'm aware of my problems updating and in true 12 step fashion, I'm going to dig deep into denial and ignore them!
But, by doing that, I'm also putting lots more pictures up for you to enjoy, so yay, double yay and triple yay.
First, some from a random trip to the Duck Pond Park near our house.
The boy is a bit of a character. I have NO idea where he gets that thing where he can't have a serious face when the camera is pointed at him. Hmmm...
I blame his mother.
While we're blaming their mother for things, check out this ethereal beauty.
I won't mention that she was told to only dip her feet and not scootch all the way to standing in the water (broken glass... we ARE still in the city after all).
Sometimes, I am reminded that this is the life I wanted back when I wasn't living this life.
My little munchkin Boo. This was just before Christmas, barely 2 months or so ago, and already he looks different from this shot.
My girls making Xmas cards for every single human they could think of. My apologies if you didn't get yours, it may or may not be because I had a hard time figuring out who "Ukweeku" was.
They were so excited by the idea that I emptied out an entire box of crap onto the table to find those hats.
Big Sister showing Little Brother how to play the letter game.
BUSTED.
Trust me, I was as surprised as he was that it was time to "Drewproof" the house.
A "Drum Session" at the local library. The guy passed out drums, then asked if somebody would like to take the African spear and shield and lead everyone in a dance.
*CRICKETS*
He asked again. I looked at Jade enquiringly and realised that she was playing with the fruit-shaped maraccas. When I told her he was asking for a volunteer to lead the dancing, she left a little Jade-shaped vapour cloud where she was sitting, grabbed the goods, and started stomping with the beat. Of course, he didn't explain that singing wouldn't be heard over the drums, and she didn't explain that she didn't care if we heard her song or not.
Blurry, yes. But so damn cute that it couldn't be skipped. Happy little boy.
Birthday time, and she got the magic fairy wand with the magic fairy horse and some other magic fairy thing that surely brought so much magic fairy magic into our house that I forgot to be angry when I stepped on the spikey, designed-to-kill-dad's-feet magic fairy shoes in the middle of the night.
Happy Birthday my little Jadeybug.
This is the look you get when you say, "Mum says take a picture of you while we're fishing so she has proof that we're not out at a bar!"
He smiled later and was a goofy goofball with his mates but I don't want to break some sort of internet laws and post pics without permission. Suffice to say, 3 young boys fishing and jumping off the jetty was a roundly soundly good time had by all.
The little turtle pool getting some good summer use. Jade in her default state with her mouth open. Boo in his default state, chewing on something that he probably isn't supposed to have.
Smiling big from the excitement of Granbo's gift. What better way to celebrate an 11-yo sciencey, buildy, inventy kid than to give him something sciency and buildy and inventy? Long as he doesn't blow anything up.
And if he does, it better be coooooool.
He'd asked a bit ago and we weren't sure if he meant it. Then Jade got her ears pierced for her birthday (Jan 24th, 5 days before his) and he waited almost a whole day later to quietly insist, "Um, mum and dad? I really would like my ear pierced..."
It was actually fun, I must say, to do that with him (Wifeage was home with a sleeping Boo) and now I'm wearing the mate (had to buy a pair) in my ear too.
Just a random shot while I was leaving the school after dropping Jade. The sky was alive that morning and there was a huge flock of those big white cockatoos (something-crested somethings) in that field there on the burn mark.
I know the barbed wire and chainlink fence kind of throw you off, but the clouds and that huge flock of screeching birds (wingspan of about 4 ft) really show the energy of that moment.
************
Now, I am pleased to present to you some once-in-a-lifetime Pro Shots of my gorgeous kids. We purchased a voucher AGES ago, and the bugger was about to expire. It was for up to 5 people, so we weren't sure if that meant they'd have all of us. Plus, I'd just sort of spaced the appointment at 2:30 until about 1-ish on a very, very busy Monday. I gave wife that look that says, "There's a slim chance that you and I can get 4 kids ready in the next hour, but there's almost NO chance that we can do that and be ready ourselves."
And by "ourselves" I meant "her" because I shower, shave and dress in the time it takes to boil a kettle. Part of the fun of being male. But poor Wifeage actually cares about A) how she looks and 2) how the kids look, so she's kind of behind the 8-ball on that one.
So yeah, that's why there's no Wifeage in any of these shots, but there ARE 4 absolutely gorgeous (and gorgeously dressed, thank you so much honey) children and one mildly not-hideous grinning idiot dad.
The following are all courtesy of Ze Photography.
My oldest boy. Damn fine looking gent if I do say so myself.
My oldest girlchild, who will likely take a stab at modelling before it's all said and done.
Aaaaaaaaand My Little Showpony. Unprompted, unsolicited, pure Posing Jade.
My beautiful Boo. He was a bit grumbly from missing a nap at the time, but he still managed to only look slightly bemused instead of grumbly, so that's a win.
A lucky, lucky man.
FUN!
No really, it really was fun. Folks have commented that they would've gone slightly mad trying to corral 3 kids (one very un-corralable) and a baby, but it was actually a really good day.
Monkeys...
My beauties.
My boys.
************
And that's all folks. Hope you enjoyed as much as I did.
Mad Loves and Smooches and Hugs.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Pichur ketchup.
Been a busy boy lately. Aside from just trying to keep up with the kids, keep winter out and prepare for the biggest Nerd Weekend of the year (the Balingup Medieval Carnivale - pics of that later), we've got lots going on.
Pretty much par-for-course, all the Big Bills come at once, but you know what? The kids actually LIKE baked beans on toast. Screw you Poverty! We still think you taste good!
Aside from being poor, we're also moving. WHOO!
No. No "WHOO". Well, not really. It's another house owned by doc-in-law, right here in our li'l suburb, and it became open. Sort of shotgun-styles, we decided to throw away 75% of our shit and move 8 blocks away to a cleaner and easier-to-manage house.
Finding which 75% to ditch? Yes, that IS the hard part. Moving the other 25% when you've got a very sociable and cuddly baby ain't easy either.
But I digest.
I had a birthday too, and it may actually be the best f*cking birthday I've ever had.
Well, it's up there anyway.
Other stuff happened too, and wife took pics, as she does.
Let's go through the those, shall we?
(Some are from the awesomeness that is my phone, taken with the decided lack of awesomeness that is my eye)
Something in wifeage's genetics makes gorgeous children. GORGEOUS.
I love this look. This is a classic, and will surely be busted out on the projector set up at his 18th birthday.
Probably the happiest kid I have ever seen.
First try with proper solids, wifeage boiled him a potato and we put it in his li'l smushy mesh holder thingo. I've clearly been working on armour/swords in the shed and the smell probably didn't add much to his culinary experience, but he ate it all happily.
Video of him eating from a spoon for the first time. I'm thinking the apple that was mixed in with the sweet potato was probably a bit much.
He played so hard.
So hard he fawwed asweep.
He does this a lot too. Just being such a Little Dude wears him right out.
From the top of the stairs in our chalet in Balingup, Princess Snow White Barbierella is posing for mum. Probably prompted with something along the lines of, "No, cuter. CUTER. There."
"Where the hell are my hat and sunnies... put 'em here somewhere... *grumble grumble*"
"Daddy! Get outta my house, loser!"
*laughs* "Did you get that from a TV show?"
"No, from your desk!"
Our li'l Picasa. She had some story about a spider out for a walk on a sunny, partly cloudy, day, but I forgot to remember it. What I did remember was that it was unbearably cute.
Hard to read, but she's written "Princess" on this one and made a girl with earrings and a sparkly crown. Only 1 in 5 of these are self-portraits too.
Reading on her Leappad thingo for her brother. She's still really into the idea that he thinks she's so damn awesome.
Book Week ended with a "Dress as your favourite character" day. Hard to see, but I carved him that wand myself, and wifeage ruined a pair of sunnies for those specs.
Gwen Tennyson (from Ben 10) was much easier. But I can say that because I didn't do her hair, haha.
For the Biggest Birthday Surprise of ALL, I was spirited away to the hills outside of Perth. Some hastily made arrangements for babysitting (original deal fell through) later and we went a short 20 minutes to a place called "Hidden Valley".
We roll up and I'm stoked by all the nature everywhere. Nothing like trees and solitude for a birthday, I tells ya. I figured we were going away by wifeage packing overnight stuff, but I kind of thought a Motel 6 or something.
I never dreamed it would be something like this place.
We rock up and the one-room joint is amazing. It's like it's built for couples who want to get away from the kids and just lay around nekkid. Wife says, "hurry up and put that robe on, we're late."
Hmmm... late for nekkidness? What could await me?
Only one of those awesometastic couple's massage thingos. I've never even imagined being one of those couples that gets a massage together as usually we're either giving them to each other or too poor to afford more than one. This was most awesome.
Then, back to the lovenest to get into the hot tub and drink some wine. Then to the shops for a steak, which we grilled outside... then back in the hot tub!
Next morning, the folks've left an egg/bacon breakfast platter in the tiny fridge. Oh Sweet Jeebus it was awesome. Sure, cook it yourself, but hey, that's how we actually prefer it.
SO relaxing. SO spoiled. SO nice. I really, Really, REALLY didn't want to leave.
Wifeage actually candidly captured me staring wistfully at the fire, moments before we had to check out. It's amazing times like that, that actually make you rethink your own fertility.
I keed. I LOVE my children. But still, it was wonderful to get away from it all, even if only for a night.
So, back to reality...
And MOVING.
YOINKERS.
We actually had to list out the "Pros" and "Cons" before we decided anything. The "Pros" easily won out, but it's still extremely STRESSFUL moving house.
Even though this is doc-in-law's old house, and we've spent so many days and nights there that we didn't really need an orientation. But still, it's good to get your bearings.
Here's me and Boo imagining where the Big Screen TV will go. We're also imagining owning one. We're also imagining possessing enough money at one time to be able to afford to own one. We eventually stopped imagining things and had Jadey stick a flower behind our ears.
Oh yeah! The kids went to their first professional hockey game too! We've got the Perth Thunder here now, and while they're in their first, probationary, season (next year they'll be full-fledged Australian Ice Hockey League), they're still freakin' awesome.
A while back, I offered them website help in exchange for tickets and merchandise and stuff, and they were only too happy to comply, giving me tickets for the whole family and advertising space (half-page) in their weekend program.
Then, they beat the pants off of the 2nd best team in the league. Well done boys.
The kids loved it, they ran around like maniacs and we all froze our bullocks off. It was AWESOME.
I even got to take the li'l Boo the next night, though we all wished mummy's back was good enough for her to come with.
This is my youngest son. My baby boy. My last baby. Because he is the last, we're going to take lots and lots of pictures of him.
Also, because he's absolutely GORGEOUS.
Seriously, that's the best-looking baby I've ever seen, and I'm not just saying that because I'm his daddy.
Okay sure, I might be a bit biased, but still.
Fascinated by Mr Caterpillar. Anything with boggly eyes gets engaged in animated conversation. It's hilarious.
Happiest. Kid. Ever.
To this day, he has yet to really cry. You know how some babies go on a bit, maybe even after you feed/sleep/stop pinching them? This one doesn't. EVER. Amazing.
I love this picture too, because my other great love took it while I was out and one of my other great loves is in the background.
That's all for now folks. I hope your ice stays cool and your guitars keep smiling.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.He’s Perfect
When the story is told over the upcoming years, this part may or may not get brought up, so I'm making sure that it gets told now.
You see, I'm such an awesome chef that our baby boy was born at 4:33 PM instead of 8:33 AM. My culinary abilities are why we had to sit, for 7 straight hours, in a waiting area, being told little and enjoying it even less. The day before, Wife and I cruised the aisles of Woolworth's scabgrabbing everything that appealed to wife's happy li'l hormonal heart.
I asked her what she'd like for a "Last Meal" and she told me. So I made it.
Seafood Marinara in White Cream Sauce with Rhubarb and Strawberry Pie.
These are crappy pics from my phone:
The lady at Woolie's was rather proud of her mixture of prawns, mussels, salmon, calamari and snapper. She should be too.
The pie was all me though, and even if my crusts are a bit crusty sometimes, I was DAMN proud.
So wife and I ate, and we ate, and we enjoyed the hell out of a pleasure that can only be described as Not Having Any Kids Around.
We laid in bed and told secrets under the covers about how we're both a bit nervous and hit the lights out to be awoken at 4 (for her) and 6 (for me, since it takes me 8 minutes to get ready). At 4 AM she got up, but then I did too because I was nervous and wanted to have solidarity and all that rot. I put the news on and sipped coffee while she fussed about.
We rolled up to the ward with only 2 other elective C-sections (after 3 of 'em, they make you have one for #4 here) and sat down. Seconds later, our name is called and next thing you know Jo's in those gowns that hang your ass out there for the World and I was a pacing poppa.
A routine question hiccup was all that we needed at that point.
"Have you had anything to eat or drink?" they asked.
Wife answered, "Nope, just a swallow of milk at about 4:15 because of husband's deliciously acidic dinner last night!"
We were both still beaming when nurselady says, "Oh dear, I'll have to check to see if that's okay."
Wife explains to me that the whole No Eating thing is usually for General Anaesthetics and she would just have an epidural, and also it's only so you don't barf in your sleep and then choke on it. No worries.
Well, there were big worries apparently. Some folks are real sticklers sometimes. I usually like to refer to them as "Suckjob Fartfaces".
So we got bumped, not a huge deal. We asked to speak to our doctor when he had a minute so that we could explain that there was REALLY no danger, and we waited. And we got bumped again, for the gal getting a hysterectomy. Nothing to that one, there's no babies even in there! "44 minute op", we were told.
SIX HOURS LATER and we're finally told that there were "complications" in the previous surgery and everything was bumped for the day. Wife started feeling hopeless and I was actually feeling boredom which, if you know me, is a real sign of trouble. It's lucky it almost NEVER happens, because I get up to things.
First, I got up to taking pics:
Then wife got bored as well:
There are more. I'm not posting them because you don't really need to see those big red wee/blood catcher thignos taken from an upside-down angle any more than you need to see an empty hospital corridor.
I snuck off to go to the gift shop in search of something more than just the crap magazine by wife's feet and came back with a surprise.
When you squeeze his left foot, he laughs uncontrollably until you're uncomfortable enough to leave the room. Like me when I'm at dinner at my mother-in-law's after I've told a fart joke.
I also rocked simply because I can. I mean, when you're stuck in a hospital bed with your hugely pregnant wife, she can't eat and hasn't since the night before and it's 2 PM the next day, and your ass feels like it knows those vinyl chairs in the Biblical Sense, what are you gonna do?
That's right.
Then it was GO TIME. Just like that, they came in, wheeled us away, and we were In Action.
Check this: Exact same spot, 4 and a bit years ago.
Same outfit. Same spot. Same pose. Same jackass about to be a daddy again.
Literally within 13 seconds they had him out and on her chest. Uncleaned, unfussed-with, unkempt and perfectly PERFECT. That moment will continue to stand out in our memories.
They didn't need to smack his ass as he did start crying on his own, but by the time he started getting a head of steam up, they lay him on Jo's chest and it was like MAGIC. He settled and breathed deeply of her scent and was the happiest boy in the Universe. So happy and content, in fact, that we actually had to check on him to make sure he was alright.
Of course, he was alright, and that continues to be his favouritest place ever. Doesn't matter what's up, his head on her chest solves everything.
By the time I got a hold of him, he was getting swaddled to keep him warm, but as per our request he was still covered in the waxgook. His swollen little eyes were almost glued shut with the waxgook, and I whispered sweetly to his little face. Jo said something, so I spoke up in my normal voice (which was probably quite boomy in the newborn's face) and he started.
But he didn't start from fright, it was like he'd been reminded of something. He struggled and wiggled his little head (as he's doing now at the very moment I'm typing this) and forced those gooky little eyes open. It was as if he said, "HEY! I know that voice! You're the guy that talked to me all those months!"
The very first thing my son ever laid eyes on was me.
Pretty cool.
******
There were some issues with the giant metal thing they poke in your spine, so we had plenty of time to meet our "new" anesthetist (our original was there so long that he was off shift). He was a nice-looking German/Filipino guy named "Andreas" who looked 8 years younger than me yet was about 8 years older.
It was only later, almost a day later, when we were still completely flummoxed as to what to name this little bundle of Amazing when wife almost-kind-of-jokingly suggested "Andreas", though she followed it with, "the more common form would be 'Andrew'". I was interested, but not terribly moved, as I'd spent the entire drive to the hospital with "Levi" in my head.
Then she said, "You can call him 'Drew'" and that did it for me. Andrew James Exley gets to be "Drew" or "AJ" or "DJ" or any other variation of coolitudinosity.
Hours old and sleeping happily on mummy. Hairy and still a bit waxygook gross, we couldn't marvel enough at how perfect he was.
I tried to steal the hospital outfit thingie, but after he peed on me I found I didn't want it any more.
That is one good-lookin' boy.
See? Shirtless. Because it got peed on. Turns out that if you button up their li'l nappy and don't point his doodle DOWN, then it shoots wee out the sides. Plus, it's a pretty big doodle *coughlikehisdaddycough* and has some reach.
Auntie Roni actually looked at her child as she requested to hold the baby and said, "Yes, certainly you can hold him, except that my arms don't appear to be letting him go. I want you to hold him, but my arms say different, so too bad!"
First drive home. The sunlight continues to highlight his fairer aspects.
He has a comfy arm, and he uses it quite prolificly to sleep on daddy (no boobs, you see).
Uncle Sam came by after work to have a look at him and poke him in a doctorly way. I think he likes him.
Wrinkly and sleepy and a bit angry at not being fed, but none o fthese things bother Jade when she's busy telling you about Polly and Tim, twin fairies that live in her hands.
Pretty perfect moment.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Babies Won’t Keep
Why haven't I posted the entire story of my child's birth yet?
Why did I have to set a reminder in my Outlook Calendar to do the dishes?
Why is the only basic email communication I've had between my mother and the 73-year old retired Welshman I play online chess with?
Why is my beard scratchy with new growth and my crotch jungley with unwashing?
Because babies won't keep.
I have Wifeage to thank for this house remaining in working condition while I am not, as he's still getting up for a feed a lot at night and that's Dad Duty (in exchange for doing little else mind you... I didn't even grow him in my belly, so I'm getting off light).
Wonderful, beautiful, amazingly capable and rocking this shit out of everything Wifeage sent me this poem, and I challenge you to read the entire thing, out loud, without getting allergies in your eyes.
It's paraphrased a bit by Wifeage, but that only makes it awesomer:
Song for a Fifth Child
(Fourth works just as well ;)
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.
***
See? I can't even copy and paste it here without getting a bit misty.
Just about everybody I know sometimes needs a really bulletrpoof argument against housekeeping, and here's mine:
When they're 19 and out on their own and talking agnstily with their other young and angsty friends, do you want them chiming in the parent-bashing with, "Yeah, my parents never had any fun with me either. They thought going to the shops and riding the choo-choo thing was fun for me!"
Or do you want them to say, "My parents weren't slobs, but they weren't big on cleaning. They made me do housework whenever I was in trouble, which was fairly common/hardly at all, but Saturday Mornings ALWAYS meant cartoons, pancakes and loud music in the kitchen while they danced with us and sometimes made out with each other... ewwwwwww."
Now, if you'll excuse me, Ben 10: Alien Force is on.
Posted by JuddHole
This blog was the one that changed everything in my life, so it stands to reason that it continue to do so. I hope it starts with my underwear.Bouncing Babies Gets You in Trouble
Not to throw the wifeage under the bus, she's been through a lot lately what with having a major abdominal surgery to pull a baby out, suddenly turning Jersey Milk Cow and having so many hormones running through her blood I wonder sometimes if she'll actually shapeshift like Martin Short in "Innerspace".
BUT... the reason I haven't updated with the entire baby saga is her fault.
She's a perfectionist, you see, and if there are pictures that are going up of our wonderful little bundle of joy then she wants them to have gone through her ardent ninja-like set of photo editing skills. So, I have a post, it's waiting on pictures, and no I won't put it up yet (I like my testicles where they are).
In the mean time, I can tell you this: Andrew James Exley came into this outside world at 4:33 PM on April 20th and has napped ever since. He was HUGE at 55cm (97th percentile) and almost 8 pounds. Hefty boy.
He's perfect and gorgeous and even though naming him was a bloody SAGA we're so, So, SO happy with everything about him. Oh alright, here's a pic or two:
He spends a lot of time doing this, which is fine by us because it means we don't get interrupted while we're absolutely MOONING over him. I mean, godDAMN this kid is gorgeous!
I suppose I'm actually okay with her being a perfectionist. It may slow up my blog posts, but look at the people she makes.