Jan. 26, 2006 Day Twenty-Nine: Baby Jokes

Daddy B bought me my first book of jokes. It's called "My Baby's First Book of Jokes."

Man, are there some zingers in there.

Have you heard the one about the boy who lost his pacifier in the well ... hee ... hee ... hee ... ha ... ha ... haaaaaah! Ohhh! I can't take it. Too funny. Too funny.

Or what about the baby who crawled across the road, or the 3-month-old who tried to make three wishes to his Diaper Genie... Ha... Ha... Hee... Heee... Heeeeeeh! Ohhhhh boy! ... I think I need a diaper change.


Jan. 23, 2006 Day Twenty-Six: I Don't Care About Cute

There's been some debate in recent days about whether my eyes will remain the color blue, and how cute I look with my pretty blue eyes.

Well, I don't care about cute!

I like to think that people will judge me by my personality, my charm, my sense of humor ... and my full head of manly hair. Is there a comb around here? It's a bit messy.

"Hey mom! Bring me a comb, and a little gel while you're at it. And don't forget the mirror!"


Jan. 21, 2006 Day Twenty-Four: Boppy Boredom

I'm feeling a little down today, blue, you know, because I've got a case of boppy boredom.

Oh how I envy those small children who can get up at will, crawl and walk and knock and spill things over.

Momma CJ and Daddy B tell me that "you're only young once," and that I should enjoy my newborn days because being a toddler is tough.

And I know they're right, and I feel fortunate because most babies my age don't have the ability that I do to communicate with the written word, but I'm ready to move beyond that. I want to walk and talk, have conversations that don't just involve cooing. It's difficult to communicate with grunts and screams. My parents think I need a diaper change, when really I'm trying to express my views on the current state of Latin American politics. Jeez!


Jan. 17, 2006 Day Twenty: Working Out At My Gym

I'm tired, man. It was my first day at the gym.

I made a bunch of friends there, including a rabbit and a lizard and a cow. The lizard agreed to spot me on the bench press.

I don't mean to brag, but I totally outlifted him.

Now I just need to find the jacuzzi. Maybe the spider above my head knows.

"Hey spider. You know where the hot tub is? ... No hot tub? What kind of gym is this?"


Jan. 15, 2006 Day Eighteen: Sorry About Your Summer

OK. So I skipped ahead from day eight to day 18 of my life. I tried to update this thing daily, but I'm just too busy with my research on baby sleeping and eating habits.

I found that my research is most effective when I take a hands-on approach by actually doing some sleeping and eating. But I don't quite have enough data to report any results at this point, so I'm going to have a milk dinner and a nap afer I write this.

Anyway, I'm writing to inform my readers that they shouldn't expect the weather to change anytime soon. I saw my shadow for the first time this morning, and, from what I've heard, I think that means winter is never going to end.

I feel terrible about this, but I must say, I enjoy the company of my shadow. He's very handsome, and I think we're going to be longtime friends. So, the only advice I can give to my readers is: buy a warm coat.


Jan. 5, 2006 Day Eight: They Call Me 'Little Rooster'

Momma CJ and Daddy B have given me the nickname "little rooster" because I like to give them the wake-up call at all hours throughout the night.

I don't think it's a cute or funny nickname. I've seen a rooster at Grandma D's house. She has lots of them and I find them to be rather goofy creatures, and I am hardly goofy. In fact, I'm quite the opposite. I'm non-goofy.

Besides, I'm not the one who has a problem. It's those parents of mine who are always wanting to sleep when there's fun to be had; games to be played, like Diaper Switch, and Rock-a-Bye and my personal favorite, Feed the Baby.

I'm going to start calling my parents grizzly bears because they're always trying to sleep like lazy old grizzly bears. Well, this little "rooster" is not going to let those bears sleep anymore. Cock a doodle doo!!!


Jan. 4, 2006 Day Seven: To Infinity and Beyond

I spent nine months balled up inside my mother's belly, and have spent the past seven days either trapped inside a hospital or swaddled up in my bassinet at home.

What I'm getting at is: I need to get out! I need a vacation, just to get some breathing room. And I love my parents. They're great. This isn't about them. It's me. I just need a break, you know.

So I thought I would go to space.

I've got my gear on and my vessel is prepared. Now I just need a countdown. Five... Three... Five... Uh oh. I forgot I don't know how to count. Can I get a little help here? Mom? Dad? Kitty? ... This space suit is getting hot.


Jan. 3, 2006 Day Six: The Changing Game

I'm not one to criticize, but Daddy B is slowwww at changing my diapers.

I'd change them myself, but I need to make these parents of mine feel like they're useful for something.

You'll notice in this photo that I've attached (OK, so maybe someone else got on the computer and attached it for me, but just humor me for God's sake. I'm a baby with a blog. What did you ever do when you were a baby? I thought so.)... Anyway, where was I... Oh yeah. In this photo, try to identify the items that Daddy B has misplaced while attempting to give me a change.

Let's see, there's a sock at my head and a pacifier at my foot. And you can't see it here, but offscreen dad is in a fistfight with the Diaper Genie to get back my other sock that he dropped inside of it.

Jan. 2, 2006 Day Five: Game ON

Dad introduced me to something called Bowl season.

At first I thought that meant he was going to feed something from a bowl -- which would be totally inappropriate because I'm strictly breast at this point -- but I later learned that it refers to the bowl games played by the top teams in college football.

And we watched some great rivalries, including some teams nicknamed the Nittany Lions and the Seminoles, and the Fighting Irish and the Buckeyes, but those rivalries pale in comparison to the rivalry that's being established in my very own home -- Hudson "The Baby" v. Polo "The Cat."

I've pulled out my playbook of cute looks and crying, but Polo has countered with his scaredy cat maneuver, and is gaining some of the sympathy vote. But I ain't afraid of no kitty. All I have to say to Polo is "It's on fool!"


Jan. 1, 2006 Day Four: Home Sweet Home

It's home sweet home after a three-night stay at Hutzel "Women's" Hospital, which I like to refer to as the "Ladies" hospital, because I had all the "Ladies" swooning over me.

One of those ladies was my mom, who I'll refer to as Momma CJ.

Although I think Momma CJ was secretly a little bit bitter about the ordeal I put her through -- you know, 17 hours of excruciating pain and all that -- it all changed once she got a glimpse of 22.5 inches and 10 pounds 6 ounces of cuteness.


Dec. 31, 2005 Day Three: It's OK to Drink Champagne

Today is New Year's Eve.

I'm still in the hospital, but I'm sure mom won't let a little C-section stand in the way of some champagne.

I don't have anything special going on. I just plan on chilling on my boppy, and hope to get a first taste of the bubbly before midnight.

Dec. 30, 2005 Day Two: What's With the Ducks?

I just started opening my eyes today and I noticed that Grandma B brought me some flowers inside of a duck.

What's with the ducks? No one asked me if I liked ducks. I don't even know what a duck is really.

But, his big orange nose is kind of funny. It quacks me up … Sorry for the bad joke, but I got my first sense of humor from Nurse I.

Dec. 29, 2005 Day One: abCs

My mother and Grandma D said during mom's pregnancy that I was advanced -- ahead of all the other fetuses in my class. While most of my squirming colleagues were learning simple tasks like breathing, I was practicing my ABCs. The first letter I shared with the world was C, as in C-section.

First off, I'd like to say, "I'm sorry mommy," for this painful experience, but if you ask me, it was nothing compared to the letter I, as in Nurse Irene. Nurse I's jokes were as painful as trying to push out a 10 pound, 6 ounce baby ("Again, I'm sorry mom.")

Anyway, I entered this world just after noon (12:04 p.m.), you know, because that's lunchtime, and it's already, like, 12:23 p.m. Where can a baby get some food around here? Helloooo. it's my birthday. I neeeed foooood! I'm 10 pounds! … But don't you dare call me BIG.