"Yeah, I'll get to it.."

I think going almost a year without writing anything is probably the single biggest comment I can make about parenthood. When asked if I'm going to write anymore my response has been typically "Yeah, I'll get to it...right after I...(INSERT EXCUSE)."

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I think sing-a-long DVDs/CDS were invented by the State Department in our war on terror. Somehow the technology got out in the open and is unfortunately being used by the general public to occupy toddlers. It's like audio-Anthrax.

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Mark (holding Foster to his belly with one hand while Amy is trying to get some clothes on him): "You know Babe, I've never grabbed another man's crotch this long in my life!"

Amy (stopping in her tracks): "This long? Couldn't you have said 'ever'?"

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Sometimes I feel bad and think that diaper rash is like Nature's report card of parenting. Other times I think the little bastard should just quit shitting wet poop!

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Car Rides at one and a half are much easier these days than they were at 6 months. Thank you, Dodge Caravan DVD player...you will forever have a warm spot in my heart. It's probably our vehicle's very best safety feature.

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Speaking of DVD's. Foster thinks every movie that's played in the car is called "Nemo". It actually offends my film-sensibilities more than it should.

Foster: "Nemo"

Mark: "No, this is How to Train Your Dragon."

Foster: "Nemo!!"

Mark: "Dragon!!"

Foster: "NEMO!!!!"

Mark: "DRAGON!!!!"

(continue for 12 miles...)

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We've discovered that Foster is part feline. He likes to be played with and tackled...but only when HE wants to and only for short periods of time. It's driving Caleb a little nuts because he'll get attacked and after 10 seconds of wrestling Foster wants done with the whole thing. Caleb then becomes a double victim in that Foster screams his head off at him and then Amy and I have to also scold Caleb to "let him go".

Poor kid. These trials make the book "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing" move up my list of all-time classics.

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Caleb is getting to be a philosopher. We had a conversation about lying the other day and he hit me with this one:

"Mark, if you told two lies today and then were asked how many you told...you could say two...or you could say three...and you'd be right on both!"

It's a mind blower.

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Foster is starting a brand new sleeping ritual. I hate to even write it down for fear of it changing...but for the past few nights he's given Amy and I a chance to sleep in the same bed for more than 6 hours at a clip. For those in the know, this is historic and life changing for the Swans-Doll-Ipers. If it continues for a few more nights I might officially declare an end to our War on Sleep and place a "mission accomplished" banner outside our bedroom. Songs, gifts, and holidays should be instituted for this momentous day of peace.

Amy looks at me funny sometimes...

The other day I grabbed Amy’s boob. She was holding Foster and when he spit up I reached over with a towel and sort of pushed one of the girls to the side so I could get at the mess and help her clean it up. Amy just stared at me until I realized what I was doing.

I said that romance wasn’t dead...it was just hibernating.

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Speaking of romance, I remember the days when there was excitement and a bit of sexiness involved with unbuckling or unfastening articles of clothing in front of your mate. This does not apply when you are carrying a sleeping child in a carrier and gently trying to get him to lie down without waking him up:

“Oh Honey, I can’t wait to be with you! But first, have you got his paci? Ok, good. On the count of three, I’ll get him unbuckled and you help cradle his head down. I’ll put the Paci in and you start the aquarium. Then we’ll make sweet, sweet love. Ready? One…two…”

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Today I was playing on the computer while Amy was nursing Foster. He fussed a bit and out of habit I asked if I could help. I got another blank stare from Amy.

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Foster displayed his first real act of defiance with me the other day. I was putting him in his car seat for like the 6th time and the poor guy was just not having it. Instead of the standard cry and arm flail, I got concentrated slapping of my hands while I was trying to buckle him in. I felt sad for him and also a little sad for me. My little guy in his own way said his first “no”. Frown.

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My process for writing this blog is that I usually try to remember quirky things as they happen throughout the week and then just jot them down with a little scribble to remind me about it later. This was in my notes from a few weeks back:

Black Box as It Relates to Blogs.

I have no idea what it means. Please just assume it was witty and amusing.