Oh yeah, we have a blog

Well, since my last post, I gave birth to a MAC truck. We named our nearly 10 lb son, Shafer Paul Mitchell.

Everyone says, "Your lives will never be the same"

What an understatement.

My house has baby paraphernalia EVERYWHERE. It's amazing where I find binkies while I am looking for my cell phone for the 10th time in a day. I don't sleep anymore, but instead fuel myself by the interactions with Shafer. I swear it's biologically possible to gain energy from baby coos and smiles.

Shafer is an absolute joy, and my heart melts every time he smiles at me, or falls asleep on Rick's shoulder. He is a very good baby, although I don't have a lot to compare it to. He travels well, and we recently tested this on our two week, multi city tour through the Midwest. It was wonderful to introduce him to all his family and our friends. He was such a trooper as we dragged him to a new place with a whole new gang of people waiting to love on him. Even the long car ride back to Georgia hardly phased him, and he didn't squawk at all when I was juggling him, and washing down a rest stop baby changer. Bless his heart.

Our life has been chaotic, in a good way, for..well, forever, and we now have a whole different kind of sweet chaos. Take today, for instance...

Shafer had a doctor's appointment at 8:15am, and I had set out his only zip-up outfit. (I made the mistake of putting him in an outfit that was torture to get him in and out of at the last doctor appointment, and didn't want to be 'that mom' again)

So, we got up this morning, and were getting ready. I got Shafer fed, dressed in perfect zip-up outfit, and placed him in his car seat. While I was trying to make it look like I had washed my hair, I heard him spit up. Dangit! I cleaned him up, salvaged his perfect zip-up outfit, and took 5 minutes finding a bib that matched his clothes. I checked clock, and put speed behind my next task of getting dressed. I was ticking off the items I needed to make sure I had before we left when I heard the sound. The unmistakable sound of a large amount of matter being dumped into a diaper.

"This has to be fast, Pal"

I picked him up, and discovered he had blown out his diaper, and there was a large brownish spot working it's way up his back.

"NOT THE PERFECT ZIP-UP OUTFIT"

I laughed because there wasn't anything else to do as I hurried to the changing table. I tried to quickly remove his clothing without giving either of us Pink Eye. I dropped the bomb into the new fancy diaper pail I got earlier this week. I realized new fancy diaper pail was full, and I had no idea how to change it out. Didn't matter as I certainly didn't have time. I decided to put bomb in plastic bag that I had in his room for such emergencies. As if on cue, he peed while I was digging for plastic bag under changing table. I laughed again, with a little more hysteria this time. I finally got the baby disinfected, and in zip-up pajamas. I imaged the snickers I would get in the doctor's office for having my kid in pajamas. I rushed out of the house, and got to the office with just a minute to spare. They removed all his clothes to weigh him, and I was thrilled he didn't pee. He is in the 97th percentile of height, and 95th of weight. Probably not a big shock there. NBA GOLD!

Then, the nurse came in to give him his shots. She asked me to HOLD HIM DOWN. WHAT?! I was prepared for shots, but not to being an accomplice. I held down his little arms, watched as his sweet face turn bright red, and his mouth open in a silent-please-take-a-breath wail. My eyes filled with tears, and I promised him a new wagon. After Nurse Cruella was finished, I swooped him up, and he promptly stopped wailing. The nurse left, and I got him dressed, promised him ice cream when he switched to solids, and tried to control my sobs. He was asleep by the time I left that exam room, and I felt confident he wasn't scarred for life. I made my next appointment a little later in the morning, and smiled when I saw another little guy carried in to the office..in pajamas.