Because Every Dog Needs a Little Boy

Meet LeBeau: 

 

 His middle name is Dork, or it should be anyway. 

Once upon a time he was lonely and little boy-less. It made him sad. He was a sad dork. 

And then came the day that he met the Jimmy.

It was love. Love at first sight. LeBeau felt as though this little boy that came to visit him was his. And no little boy of his would ever be out of his sight.

The little boy grew.

...And so did LeBeau's love for the little boy.

And so ends the tale of the sad lonely LeBeau Dork and how he became the Happy LeBeau Dork.

That Finger!

Quote of the day:

(after discovering both our laptops unplugged with very low battery life for the umpteenth time)

"It's like there's a little finger named Jimmy running around unplugging computers!"

--the techy baby's daddy

Okay, well I thought it was kinda cute considering the baby boy does seem to enjoy running around getting into all sorts of trouble with electronic gadgets. Hehe.

You Think You Know, Huh, Stranger?

In a random blog-perusing-nursing-session this morning, I had to chuckle at this post by kojo designs -- The Universal "Baby Girl" Symbol. Ah yes, every mom's frustration with the stranger gender specifying syndrome, which this mom of a cute little girl knows the solution for.

But I'm a mom of a baby BOY. 

One of the reasons I wanted to find out what we were having while I was pregnant was so that I wouldn't acquire a host of yellows and greens and other such neutrals that shout "Guess what! I'm cute and I could be a boy, or I could be a girl! Guess again!" and therefore have to create signs that declare "I'M A BOY" to hang obnoxiously above his head so that my you-offended-me-because-you-think-you-can-tell-a-girl-apart-from-a-boy-and-you-suck-at-it vein wouldn't start throbbing in my forehead.

So the greens and yellows and neutrals that did end up in Jimmy's wardrobe are only worn around close friends and family who know he's a boy and will never ever doubt it.

But there are still those know-it-all's who can't notice the blues or the camo or the planes and cars or the duh-look-at-those-big-boyish-hands, not to mention the lack of pinks, ruffles and bows that this mom would dress her baby girl in if she had one. The worst was the friendly lady who boasted of her four grandchildren who stopped me and my cute baby in a hotel lobby. She gently tickled and gushed over his cuteness and inflated my mommy ego.

(Confession: I take a lot of pride in being this baby's mommy, so I immediately fall in love with anyone who is charmed by my baby boy.)

"Boy or girl?" She asked with a smile.

I gulped in shock; staring at the train running across the bib of the baby-boy-in-my-arms' overalls; you did not just seriously ask that, did you?

And before I could respond she gently stroked his fuzzy red head and declared, "You're just too pretty to be a boy aren't you? Yes you are!"

"Maam, I truly am so sorry your grandsons are ugly," I replied while the words that came out of my mouth were actually; "No, you tell her that you really are a boy!"

So anyway. With all these baby girls that all my friends and family are having, I think I shall do them a favor and learn how to create these super cute bows and such so at least people will know what a baby girl looks like. And in the mean time I guess the little Jimmy boy will just have to continue sucking on blue pacifiers and wearing his shirt that declares, "daddy's happy I'M A BOY".

Grateful 29/365

Grateful for my brother Zack and the way he keeps the world around him smiling...

Zack was recently visiting my sister who has a baby girl (Korynne) 8 weeks younger than James. She says, 

"Zack claims that James is his kid. When I try to tell him otherwise, he argues with me. So then I asked if he wanted to hold Korynne (since I assumed he was just on a baby kick) but he adamantly refused, saying he'd probably hurt her." 

Zack has, on many occasions, begged to come over, promising that I wouldn't have to do anything. He would babysit Jimmy and I could go take a nap. (yeah, I probably wouldn't sleep so good, but the thought is sweeter than sweet!)

Before James was born, I was never fond of the name "Jimmy" (it has since grown on me). But no matter what I said, Zack always insisted throughout my pregnancy that he couldn't wait for me to have Baby James and that he was going to call him "Jimmy-my-boy". 

I think part of his utter infatuation with Jimmy is due largely in part to his prayers during my pregnancy. Zack was devastated when I miscarried in March 2009 and still talks about it. He was always concerned about the baby while I was pregnant this time around and I know, cute little prayer warrior that he is, he was sure to let God know that he loved Jimmy-his-boy and desperately wanted to hold him.  

To Think it all Began a Year Ago...

...When Andy and I first acknowledged each other.

"So Brittney, r u going to accept my friend request?
(Now the pressure of it being public haha)"

"it would help if I had a request to accept anyway.
Then I might consider. *MIGHT*"

Now look at us.

Who would have thought from those first words, that in a year's time those very two would be madly in love with each other, happily married and looking forward to being parents?? Well, those two certainly weren't thinking along those lines at the time... One can never know what door love will come through, or how long the journey will be to discover it. But I can assure you, that I sure haven't regretted accepting that friend request, and the journey love took us on as a result is much more amazing than I could have ever fathomed. So yeah, maybe it was a little fast... But, if I had it to do over again, I would only do one thing different: do it a little faster!

Questioning the Edge of Sanity

Ever since my last post I have had every good intention of being a good blogger and writing something witty or cheerful or interesting or un-Andy-related (impossible) or at least letting you know that I am not all but falling off the edge of sanity.

I bet I could about make you bawl along with me with my heart-wrenching tale about how I had to drive 400 miles in one day and clean out our cozy little home all by my sad and lonely self (and oh! the memories!!!). Trust me, I have these moments of amazing inspiration. These beautiful, eloquent thoughts flit around in my head that I just know would touch your soul and totally impress you. But then I come up with these lame excuses... "They're gonna get sick of all the mush-stuff that I can't help but talk about because I happen to have married the most important Andy ever... Shoot, my camera and all the cool pictures are across the room in my purse... Ugh, I don't feel like going to 'www.blogger.com'..." Lame, I tell you.

What was this post supposed to be about anyway? I don't remember what got me going... You see I have this problem lately... Not only is Andy my home (walking around in uniform), he also took my heart. And as if that weren't enough, any bits and fragments of brain I used to possess somehow got tangled up with him too. So now, not only am I homeless, lonely and heartless... I'm brain dead too.

Seriously. Just to prove it, I'm half tempted to tell you about the time that I put my car in "drive" instead of "park", walked away and returned a while later to realize my mistake. The only reason why I'm fortunate enough to not have the replacement costs of a garage door, speed boat and tool bench to pay is because my car happened to be stuck in a snowbank.

Then there was the time I was shivering in my car the whole way home from having lunch with a friend, wondering why the heater wasn't working when it dawned on me that the heater only works when it is turned on.

My Gram'a (whom I happen to be renting from) woke me up at 4am one morning to tell me the dome light of my car was on.

I couldn't even count all the times I have misplaced my keys and cell phone.

I am a hopelessly displaced individual. Did I say something about not falling off the edge of sanity? Now that I have completed this post-that-I-can't-remember-why-I-started-writing-in-the-first-place, I have convinced myself that perhaps I was mistaken. Maybe that was the whole point of this note. At least I learned something even if you didn't.

My one sole happy thought is that my darling is going to be home for three weeks in eight more days.... So if I survive eight more days without a brain, hopefully the three weeks with him can charge me up for a whole year.

On the Subject of Honeymoons

And so today the honeymoon topic was broached by a young female member in the family.

"I think a honeymoon is when two people go to a place they really, really like for a few days. If they're not husband and wife they have to get married first. It's kind of like a date. I think you and Andy will do something like, maybe have fun...? I don't know."

I try to keep a straight face.

"Hey Britt, can't you just tell me what a honeymoon is?" She begged, adding, "I'm kind of sheltered, you know."