What a game!

We made it through our first Super Bowl as a family. The picture of Quentin was taken shortly after the game and similar to the players he was exhausted. Quentin was a pistol all day. We're not sure what his deal was but he was pretty crabby yesterday. In typical Quentin fashion we had him all decked out in his packer uniform and by noon he had a blow out. On to outfit number two. This time we got him dressed in a long sleeve shirt and then a short sleeve shirt over it that said, "Daddy's drinking buddy" with a (baby) bottle next to the words. Pefect right? We don't even get him out of his room before he pukes all over it. That's okay, we can clean that up and keep him in that outfit. I have my super bowl shirt on we picked up at the NFL experience last weekend and I am holding Quentin. He is being fussy and I have him on my shoulder. He blows some serious chunks. Really, really chunky all over my shirt. This is the first time I'm wearing it. It was nasty. I mean really, down and dirty nasty. I can't take it. I start gagging. "I think I'm going to lose it. Care, take the kid." She's screaming at me don't puke in the living room! I don't want to clean up after you! I get myself under control and throw my shirt in the wash. Quentin 2, shirts 0. By 3pm Quentin has another blow out and plows through outfit number two. We are running out of football themed clothes here. We put a Badger onsie on him but it's short sleeved and it's a little chilly so we put on a football themed footie thingy and hope it holds up through the game because this is it. We don't have any more football outfits. He pukes on it like it's his job. If we could some how get like $5-$10 per outfit with poop on it I could've made up for the stock market tanking my 401K. Yours, his, mine and anyone else that's in range has had their outfit trashed by our little wrecking ball. Quentin 4, shirts 0. Fortunately, that was the end of the bodily fluids and he made it through the evening in outfit number 3.

It's a good thing we didn't go to the game. We debated for about a year whether or not we should attend. Even with the addition of Quentin we thought we could pull it off. We were way, way wrong. He was crying too much and people paying for those seats would've been angry making a crying baby on a plane look like two puppies cuddling. He was mad and he was determined to let everyone in ear shot know it. I think he was mostly upset about those weak commercials. If I get a second career I'm heading straight to Madison Avenue. The marketing degrees these colleges are handing out aren't worth the paper their printed on. Outside of that hilarious Dorito commercial with the kid throwing the crystal ball through the vending machine I didn't find any of it funny and a good portion of it blah. No wonder all these companies are going broke. This is the best they've got? Hopefully next year Quentin will be a little bit more into it and a little quieter. Dad wagering correctly and winning some diaper money helped to soothe Quentin and he ended up sleeping soundly through the night. At least he has that part down. I threw in a picture of the Vince Lombardi Trophy we got to check out the week before. This was the trophy on the field. If you look carefully you can see #4 in the reflection.