Who Sharted?

I have taken a certified breastfeeding class and do consider myself some what of an expert after the enlightening three and half hours of class. Let's review shall we? The first 30-40 minutes was spent discussing the different types of nipples out there. I know who knew it was possible to A. take such a class, B. spend so much time talking about such a trivial thing and C. what was the point of A and B again? At any rate we were adamantly taught that nipple confusion was going to be the first major crisis we would encounter with our newborn. Under no terms were we to introduce a pacifier or god forbid a bottle. Taking this advice and not straying from it for the first three weeks we eventually lamented and gave Quentin a pacifier. Hurray! He likes it and it works. We had refused to give Quentin a bottle for fear he would develop nipple confusion and not understand that mom was the possessor of the all important food bags. Well, Carrie started to panic. What if Quentin won't take a bottle and only sees mom as the food? I don't want to be attached to this kid forever! I love the Qster but I need some mommy time too! So, I became the foodbag last night and Quentin took his first bottle. He then puked all over me. Ahh, the joys of motherhood. Bliss, if only for a few moments. It took a little wrangling and some prodding but he quickly learned that dad was just as good at distributing warm unpasteurized milk as mom.

It's been a crazy couple of days. It's hard to keep up with all the fun stuff going on and getting it out to the blog. (Only the important things like mullet sightings get out here with priority). I am hitting the road again starting at the end of the month so it will be a challenge for Carrie to have baby Q and big brother Lucky all to herself for a few days. We'll see how it goes and whether or not she has to call 911! I think it will be a big challenge but it will start several straight weeks of travel for me. I haven't seen the inside of an airplane in nearly three months, a six year high streak of no travel. Can you still yell bomb on a plane or is that bad? You can tell it's been a while because I actually contemplated checking a bag. That would be filed under come to your senses. It hasn't been that long! If you want to see your luggage again you don't check bags! (Don't Expect Luggage To Arrive - DELTA). Quentin and Carrie went shopping for a winter coat for me for the travels to Iceland, I mean Iowa. I think the average temperature starts with a minus in front of it. That's not good. I timed Quentin's arrival and my travels with late fall this year so I was fortunate enough to not have to bring a winter coat for any late fall travel. Now, I'm starting out in January. Hmm, maybe I should rethink that next year. Carrie picked up a hilarious winter cap for Quentin with hanging down ear coverings so he can look like a true northerner. He hates it but looks pretty darn cute in it - you betcha! Hopefully he won't turn into a popsicle when he makes his Iowa debut.

We have gotten two applications for the nanny position. One was sent by a former Floridian who shall remain nameless to protect her or his identity. Apparently the transition from 70s to below zeros (is that how you say it?) wasn't as enjoyable as it sounds when you say it. Who in their right mind would make that transition!?! I know, I know extenuating circumstances. It was a strong application and probably the leading candidate. We were also submitted an application by someone's wife volunteering their retired husband. Hmmm, we'll let everyone quietly make their own jokes about that one. This person even has a knack for playing poker and apparently a serious case of the winter blues. I can relate - that's what sent me to Florida in the first place. I suffered through a one night 48 inch snow fall in Boston and I knew that night it was my last winter - ever. I moved to Florida that Labor Day weekend. That candidate sounds good to me due to the resume entry of poker player. After everyone goes to bed we could get some poker games going and maybe have a cigar or two. Decisions, decisions, decisions. We have not yet reached the deadline so as a lot of you are enjoying highs at -3 feel free to mull over the position.

Since this blog is starting to turn into the most embarrassing moments for Quentin, Dad and occasionally Mom I thought we would keep that theme going. We had a pretty funny sharting incident this morning. For those of you who don't know what sharting is, you are on your own, but I would encourage you to use your imagination and see what you come up with. If that doesn't help, ask your son or daughter. Quentin is going to do some modeling this afternoon for a professional photographer so he needed a bath. He has peed (on me) once getting out of the bath and several times in "get out of the way!" fashion during bath time but there has not been a look out he's pooping incident. Well, during his bath today there was a baby ruth bar floating in the pool. (Caddy Shack anyone)? So there was a tense moment of what is that floating in there? That isn't...? Oh, no it is. Well, that isn't going to help get him clean. How do you even get that thing out of there? What do you put it in once you figure out how to fish it out? I don't remember this being a part of my parenting class. How is an hour devoted to differently shaped nipples but no one explains how to get the shart out of the tub? Yes, there were some bubbles and then the christmas surprise - a shart. I left the conundrum for Mom. "Sorry, hon, I gotta get back to work." So, apparently just like the mysterious appearance of the shart is the mystery surrounding it's disappearance. Maybe the shart fairies just fly by and pick it up. Do they leave money behind like the tooth fairy? Umm, no but it was worth a shot. Enjoy the pics!