paradigm shift

Yesterday we were getting ready to go out, everybody putting on shoes, rounding up supplies, getting Noah to choose a small toy to bring…you know, the regular routine. I open the door, start ushering Noah out, and Teresa looks at me and says, “Are we bringing Desi?”

Calmly sitting in the other room, oblivious to the world, is little Desmond.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, we should probably bring him.”

See, this is how my mind starts to internalize things. Teresa was in love with Desi and dreaming of her new four piece family within weeks of finding out. I, on the other hand, am like a fine wine. Facts must age in my brain until they’re ready for use.

As we load into the car, the old process of buckling Noah in has now expanded to buckling Noah in and getting Desi locked in. I try to avoid the second part, as putting a newborn into a car seat is akin to fitting potato chip into a change purse. It looks like it could fit, but your pretty sure something will snap in the process.

So while it used to be “Me and Tree and the boy” now it’s “Me and Tree and Noah and Desi.” It’s no longer “Noah is an addition to our couple.” It’s “We are clan Bullard.” We are a traveling troupe. Matching t-shirts would almost be appropriate.

After a long struggle (search “poop” and see how many posts come up) Noah has finally come to terms with the fact that poo belongs in the toilet. Turns out the breaking point was simply lying about the world’s supply of Noah-sized diapers. We warned him that we were running low, and that soon he’d be forced to poop in the toilet. It was a game of human waste chicken. Who would blink first?

Noah held out until the very last diaper, and then only held it in for a day before finally deciding the toilet wasn’t the spawn of satan (in regards to poop…peeing in the toilet has been no problem for months.) I got a call at work from a tiny voice saying, “DADDY I POOPED IN THE TOILET!!!” This time it wasn’t a wrong number.

So my life has changed in a very good way. I haven’t had to clean up anything resembling adult poop in over a week. It’s almost weird. He’s tells us when he’s going about 50% of the time, so sometimes you’ll just walk in on him, or it will be really quiet, and you’ll get suspicious.



we’re like a biblical plague

So Desi has been in the house for 10 days and we’ve already gotten him sick. I knew this would happen when I started feeling my through hurt the last day in the hospital.

Tree and I tend to play parasite ping pong, then Noah came, and with the addition of Desi I guess we can now play doubles. It’s good to know that we’ve informed him that he’ll always be safe with us, his new family, as long as he can weather the minimum of one-per-season cold that I get, and then spread around the house.

Last night was awful. Tree and I had been dealing fairly well with the less sleep thing, but last night was bad. Desi had gas, and I suppose starting to feel the cold too. He was miserable, and was sure to let everyone else know about it.

Upside, Noah spent his first night in underwear. He woke up around midnight to use the bathroom, and made it the rest of the way through morning without incident. This would be more exciting if he had pooped in the past two days though. He pees fine, but he will run around demanding a diaper to poop in. He simply doesn’t understand the idea of popping in the toilet. He will openly admit to preferring to poop standing up, hiding behind a curtain like that ghost kid in Three Men and a Baby. That’s a not a joke. I’ve actually caught him standing behind a curtain, with that blank stare cats have when they poop.

Today I’m back at work, Tree’s first day alone with the boy. Noah is at school. Personally, I’m envious of the woman. She’s probably sitting at home right now with an unconscious kid on her chest, watching Arrested Development on Netflix Streaming, dozing in and out of consciousness.

Meanwhile I’m here, at work, working my fingers to the bone. Yep. Busy, busy, busy.