Friday night Mom and Dad got all glamorous and went to a dinner/dance to benefit the children's hospital. Miss Miranda came and took care of the boys. Everyone had lots of fun, but not so much that Dad wasn't able to get up at the crack of dawn and head out to play golf. Mom and the boys weren't up quite that early, but made it out by 9 to head for the Farmer's Market. It was a little too hot (and Mom wasn't quite as bright-eyed as she might have been) so we walked instead of running. There was plenty to see. What is it about the Farmer's Market that attracts people with unusually large dogs? I don't even know what breeds these beasts are, but that have to be mutants even for their own varieties. And the other thing that I have noticed is that these people don't ever seem to be carrying any produce. How could they when they are trying to rein in dogs as big as calves? It seems willful, really. There really aren't accomplishing any thing other than slowing us down. If they want to be looked at, they should sign up for a parade.
Big Al did better this week than last. He still doesn't care for the street performers, but we just keep moving and so that really doesn't become an issue. Bad Bob Dylan, bad Jerry Lee Lewis -- it really doesn't matter as long as you keep moving.
Saturday afternoon Miss Samantha came to meet us. She is a new babysitter who is going to help out with the boys on occasion. Griff, of course, hogged the attention to begin with, but Big Al had won her heart by the time she left. Saturday night was pretty quiet at the home place. We had bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches and corn on the cob and then sat on the front porch in the swings and watched the traffic while we enjoyed the breeze. A real Southern evening. If only someone were catching fireflies in a Mason jar, it would have been complete.
Sunday morning, Griff woke up at 6:30, but Dad got him back to sleep without too much of a struggle. By the time Mom got back from a run, the boys were ready for a big run/walk (Daddy keeps running in to people he knows and has to show the boys off). We weren't quite able to pull it together the rest of the day. Neither of the boys would sleep. In fact, Griffith was quite resistant to the idea. He takes that from his father. Frankly, if you told me that you would feed me and let me take a nap, I'd be all over it. You wouldn't have to rub my back and sing You Are My Sunshine over and over. Or at all. He wouldn't give it up, though, despite being tired, miserable and mean. Dad went to the grocery and I abandoned Griffith in favor of Allan (who also needed a nap and is generally more amenable). This caused a great hue and cry. Griffith absolutely, positively Could. Not. Live. if he weren't in my lap. Fine. So now I have both of them and feel like the little boy and the dyke. Even if I get one or both of them asleep, it isn't as if I can DO anything. I'm stuck. Of course,Griff can't manage to just hang. He has to "love" on his brother (in truth, he does now want to love on Allan and puts his head on his belly and pats him. Allan is so scarred from past attacks, though, that he just wails. Besides Allan wants to sleep when Allan wants to sleep. He doesn't really appreciate being messed with.) Finally Griff climbed down to play with some toys and I got Allan asleep. Then, because Griffith was such a monster (and how long can it possibly take his father to buy diapers and dill pickles ???????), I decided there was nothing to be done about it but wrestle him in to submission. It was him or me. Think of calf-roping at the rodeo. After about a half hour, Griffith finally gave up and I got him down. Called Jay and said, Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to call the house or make any noise if you return. Hung up the phone, headed for the couch for a much-desired nap -- only to find Allan wide awake and ready to go.
Allan, the silent one, got so wound up that he woke his brother up after only an hour's nap. Which was not enough to make Griff a desirable person to be around, but, at that point, we were in it to win it. Fortunately for everyone, Miss Diane was having a similar day across town with William and Glenna. They all came over and brought a brand new fire truck and, generally, raised a ruckus and entertained us for a few hours.
By then it was time for dinner, which Griff refused to eat (he did suck on the bread with butter and salt and pepper). Allan resisted all efforts, too, The day had been too long and too hot for all that foolishness.
Dad was particularly amused with Griffith who HATES to have his teeth brushed (we alternate the task). After Jay finished, Griff picked up the toothbrush and started playing with it. He stuck it in his mouth and was doing his own brushing. All I could say was, your mom and dad are laughing at you, you know it, don't you? (I don't know what I did to deserve it because I was very nearly a perfect child. Never caused anyone a moment of worry or irritation.)
Both guys rallied for their baths, though. It really is about the best time of the day. They both love the bath. Griff is worn out by the end of it, though, and ready for a bottle (we'll worry about breaking him of that later). Allan is rejuvenated, though, and kicks and laughs and is ready to play (sans brother) for another hour or so. Jay and I switch babies every night so that we each get the fun of snuggling with Griff and playing with Big Al.
Dad and Griff have retired. I am typing one-handed with the world's heaviest 20 pound baby laying on my chest. If there is any thing cuter than these two, cleaned scrubbed and smelling of baby lotion and all wracked out for the night, I haven't seen it. People should be buying tickets to see this. How we have ended up with two so different and yet both so perfect I really don't know.
More later in the week.
