Crazy Talk

Yes, it's 1:36 in the morning and, yes, I'm awake. But on to more important matters.

As some of you may know, my sister got me into the nasty little habit of journaling five years ago. The entries--one for each day since--have little to do with the particulars of each inscribed date and more to do with thoughts of those days. At the end of each year, I go back and read every one, ranking the ones I like most. Why, you ask, do I bring up the topic at a time better left for sleep?

Because this past year, as one might rightfully imagine, my entire world became a tale of Buxton. My writing succumbed accordingly, and most every day has some thought bent toward the little wonder. Which would be all well and good, were it not for said ranking--an effort currently ongoing.

I will not say picking one entry instead of another is like choosing between children, because I know better now. It is, however, like choosing which of my own teeth I might leave alone and which ones I might set on fire. Either way someone gets hurt, and someone is me.

Tonight I eliminated the night we went into labor, a writing of readiness for our son that ended mid-sentence with news that changed our lives forever. Tonight I eliminated a depiction of my wife singing sweetly to our unborn child only a month after we knew to expect him. How can such things happen? How can there be no space for such miracles?

When this list finds daylight, it promises to be spectacular. But, if you see me in the meantime, be little surprised if a handful or two of hair is missing.

Buxton's First Snow Day!

Since Mommy is off work today and it's a Tuesday (not much work time) for Daddy, we had to go out and play in the snow.

We got Buxton all ready to go out and "play," and he decided to take a nap.




Once we got outside, Daddy drew Buxton's name in the snow.

Big Boy Food

Ok, so we've been a little slack about blogging lately. Certainly not for a lack of excitement around here. Just last week, Buxton started his first big boy eating with some baby oatmeal. As you can see from the video, the jury is still out on whether he likes it. He seems to eat it pretty regularly now. Surprisingly, perhaps, he still drinks the same amount of milk regardless of how many oatmeal bowls he has in a day.

We have ourselves a big boy.

Jon and Kate Plus Ten Minutes of My Life I Want Back

Spoiler Alert: This post has nothing to do with Buxton but will, most likely, alienate and/or upset quite a few people who may read it.

A well known anecdote offers Sir Winston Churchill responding to some woman stating she would, were she his husband, poison his tea. Churchill purportedly responded that if he were her husband, he would drink it.

A somewhat lesser-known note following that story is that said woman was, in fact, the (firm adjective withheld) mother of Jon and Kate Plus 8.

The greatest travesty of our new satellite made its hideous descent upon us this afternoon and continues to this moment. Like a filthy cloud of depravity, this show lingers beyond its bounds.

During the introduction sequence my mind made itself that this show does not belong on television, just about the time that stomach-turning pregnancy footage reeled. Little did I know the mother on this show would soon have me longing for said footage when, well, at least she was quiet.

Several more paragraphs could further describe my feelings on the matter, but in avoidance of anyone taking them too seriously I will decline. Suffice it to say I have a suggestion for Jon in dealing with a 10-person family. Drop the one who (clever, yet somewhat questionable play on words withheld) causes the most problems.

This should not happen. We get NFL Network now.