Nekidness and New Winter Garb

I know you've noticed, so I might as well go ahead and address the obvious. A good percentage of the pictures we post of our child show him in a nekid or almost nekid state. He really prefers to be without clothes. We have accepted this and let him be. It really goes along with his little hippie man personality. I mean, he sweats with just the normal amount of clothing on. I'll have him in one of his little feetsie outfits and his poor little mullet head is covered in sweat. When he shows the first sign of an oncoming fuss (kicking feet lightning fast followed by loud, fast breathing), we tear off those clothes and the situation is generally diffused. Sometimes a pacifier is required if the clothing removal was undertaken too late. His Greensboro Grandmommy is horrified at the very thought of his sockless little feet, but everyone knows that hot feet are NO FUN. So, to feed your inquisitive minds, Joseph is a nudist. That being said, tommorrow we are anticipating what WRAL has forecasted a "significant" snow fall. I realized that the nudist was without a proper toboggan (one that ties under the chin) or mittens. That situation was remedied at the second-hand store today. Check out his new winter digs. Now that I'm on the subject of second-hand stores, please someone tell me WHY someone would buy all new clothes for a baby. I mean, he wears something twice before he grows out of it. I would be out of my ever loving mind to go to Baby Gap, Gymboree, etc... and buy this child new clothes. I might as well go to the ATM machine, take out hard cash, soak it in gasoline, light it on fire and flush the charred remains down the commode. I think we have quite the well-dressed baby and I often get comments on his dapper attire. I might (MIGHT) buy him something new on super sale every now and then, but 95% of the time he's sporting his second-hand threads. Luckily, his cousin Cap is 18 months older and we get all of his super cool hand-me-downs. Many of his clothes are even double or triple hand-me-downs. I love it. I might take him to the mall by the time he's in middle school and afraid a classmate might spot him bargaining with Mom at the consignment store.

Satisfying your blog needs...

For fear of losing loyal readers of our blog, I refuse to allow myself to just not blog when there are no blog worthy events, thoughts, subjects. Occupy yourselves with my new phone book ad whilst I take more pictures and think of things to blog about (Do you KNOW how much these things cost?) I guess I could give a short update on things at the Sunset Lucas household. (Being that there are three Lucas households, we are the Sunset Lucases...I therefore am Anna Sunset Lucas.) Joseph has now been in daycare almost three weeks. He has a hugemongous crush on his teacher. Do you see the picture at the very end of the last post? That's exactly how he looks at his teacher, Miss Ginny - his Valentine. Stab. My. Heart. In actuality, he looks at most anybody that way. But I do think he loves Miss Ginny. Joseph picks up a couple of new nicknames every week. This week he's Punkie (he'll always be Little Punkie Lucas to a certain extent), but also Budge, Boodro, Little Buddy, Mister Buddy, J-Mike, Joe Mike, Sugar Flea (yes, wierd), Puppyfeet (yes, wierder). The mornings he's up with the birds (not often) he's just "Bird" or "Chicken." Let's see...in other news Drew and I are playing "The Biggest Loser Sanford Sunset Lucas Edition." Whoever loses more weight (by percentage of body weight) by the end of February gets a big prize. Me...I get someone to clean the house TWELVE times. This prize is worth a fast. However, due to certain nutritional needs I provide for my child, I will refrain from fasting and continue going to the gym or Curves Every.Single.Day. So far I've lost about 10 inches, but, like, 3pounds. Which means by the end of this thing, I'll look more svelte than my counterpart, but lose the game when all he did was stop drinking a hundred sodas a day.

Three Month Pictures

Old Mother Hubbard

Fourteen weeks ago I could have written a whole blog on our dog, more appropriately "my" dog, Bandit. The baby came and Bandit just kind of became like another piece of furniture or something. She's just kind of there, but she really doesn't seem to mind. One of my new years resolutions is to give Bandit more attention. Don't get me wrong, she still gets loved and petted on, but nothing like it used to be when her head claimed permanent residence in my lap and I would carry on conversations with her. But like I said, she really doesn't seem to mind the change. One thing struck us about Bandit when the baby came. The theory is this...(drumroll)...Bandit thinks she had a puppy. Hear me out now...When Joseph came home from the hospital, Bandit was very interested in his well-being. She would "check" on him all the time, which consisted of approaching his head, looking at him, taking one or two sniffs, and then walking away. She did this periodically and was making sure the person she entrusted to look after her puppy (me) was doing an okay job. When he cried, she would come get me and then look at me like "What are you going to do about this?" She would generally sleep in his room or right near him. I'll never forget the morning that Bandit acquired her new name. I was on the couch with Joseph after what I'm sure was a long night and Drew was heading out for work. Bandit was outside. (Keep in mind that we were likely both deliriously exhausted). Drew yelled out the door, "Hurry up, Mother Hubbard!" The seriousness with which he was calling her in made it that much more hilarious. The name has stuck and and Bandit is Mother Hubbard, at least part of the time, which, I might add, is better than "Tard" or "Tard Tard", which is what Drew used to call her most of the time. Oh, and wouldn't Mother Hubbard get so into diaper changing time? As soon as the new diaper and wipes would come out, she would bolt over, get as close as possible and watch (and sniff)intently. I'm not sure if this was a direct result of her Mother Hubbardness and she just wanted to make sure all was done appropriately, of if she was secretly excited by all the smells and was covering it up with her Mother Hubbardness. Nevertheless, I would not be suprised if Joseph's first words were, "Bandit, don't lick the baby." Now, back to the theory. Anyone who has gotten a new puppy during their lifetime (me, I've gotten five . . . Ginger, Fletcher, Sam, Duffy, Duncan aka Tinker) knows that a puppy is weaned from its mother at six to eight weeks old. The puppy goes on its way out into the wild, or to your house, and mama dog's job is over. Well, lo and behold, when Joseph was about seven or eight weeks old, Mother Hubbard abandoned her post and sent her puppy off into the wild. She went back to sleeping all day on the floor, oblivous to his cries, and unaware of his diaper changes (except for maybe a few guilty sniffs of a particularly dirty one). So, Mother Hubbard thinks she had a puppy, was probably wondering why I was taking care of her puppy, was concerned that I was rearing it correctly, and then, as nature would have it, determined her job was done. Any takers?

To Punkie at Three Months

Every day you are gaining more and more independence and are following that inevitable path that leads you farther and farther away from us. You are all in this world that we need, and there will slowly come a time that you will no longer need us. But I hope that you grow with the firm knowledge that our home will always be your shelter from the storms, whatever the time or circumstances may be. We know we have all we need in you, but we also know that you need a partner to experience this whole growing up thing, the Lord willing. So, Punkie, here we are. I hope that your life brings to you the happiness you have brought to us in these few months, and everything we do from here on out is designed for the primary purpose of ensuring that it will. The most apparent aspect of your emerging little personality is how peaceful and happy you are. I hope more than anything that you retain this peace and happiness, and, again, we will do everything to ensure that you do. One of the things that I love most about you is how “go with the flow” you are. I love how we can throw you into most any situation (minus the food court at Crabtree mall) with just anybody and know that you will be okay. You will be more than okay, you will be stellar. I hope that you tackle all situations in life with the confidence and ease that you are showing as a three month old baby. As you are growing, I have been reflecting on things I hope for your life. I hope for you to know and love Jesus. I hope for you to show kindness above all else and to be wiling to sacrifice to do so. I hope that you will stand firm in your convictions despite the pressures that will inevitably try to pull you away. I hope that the Lord will bless you with the sensitivity to recognize others in need and with the ability to help. I hope that you will find the willingness in yourself. I pray that the Lord will help us as parents to raise you with the confidence to know who you are, what it is that you stand for, and love yourself. I hope that you are willing, with the Lord’s guidance, to take the weedy, perhaps obstructed path. I hope that you are thorough and deliberate, reflective and prayerful, in your decision making. I hope that you will give us the high honor of helping you come to conclusions and make decisions. I hope that you will talk to us, really talk to us – openly and honestly. I hope the Lord guides us to listen, and to only listen when need be. I hope that others will see you as kind and strong. I hope you have a knack for finding fun in everyday life and the charisma to draw others to join. I hope you will have the ability to laugh at yourself. I hope you invent – anything. I hope that you will be proud of the person that you are. I hope that you will be proud of us as your parents. We love you Little Buddy.

New Camera

So, I got a new camera. This means lots of fun for me and not so much for Bandit. She's started off an an excellent "subject" as I tinkered with all the bells and whistles. I figured Joseph would be more sensitive to/angered by the constant flashing, so Bandit as a subject would have to suffice. Then she decided enough was enough and would hide upstairs when the camera came out. Then Joseph had to suffer for my art.

Christmas'd Out

J was really sick of tearing paper and watching us stuff our faces. In fact, he had two major meltdowns over Christmas. He's our Zen baby and is always so peaceful, which shows that he hates Christmas. He kept looking at me like, "Can't we just go home and sit on the couch like normal?" Ba-Humbug.