Friday, January 29, 2016

98, 97, 96 and My Wife's Age

From the moment he was born our newest little guy has possessed a voracious appetite. Mrs. Blackwell can attest to this fact. She lives it multiple times a day, everyday and every night.

Our little dude likes to eat. And eat. And eat. And eat.

From his birth weight and other newborn measurements we knew he was bigger than normal and as the weeks passed, we observed he was growing and putting on a healthy layer of baby fat rather quickly.

Well, we didn't know just how much the kid was growing until his two-month check-up recently.

It was then that the doctors revealed a few surprising statistics.

The 98th Percentile. 

That's where the size of the boy's head is. And, for this, I could take complete responsibility. I have a large, large head. That said, so does Mrs. Blackwell. Fortunately we're both front-to-back big, like James Cameron's 'Alien' as opposed to side-to-side big like Stewie Griffin.

Regardless, buying hats for this kid means we'll need to ignore the standard measurements like "infant" and "newborn."

And while we're out hat shopping, maybe we'll want to look pick up some gift certificates for the grocery store because our suspicions about the boy's appetite are confirmed by the fact that his weight is in...

The 97th Percentile. 

Like I said, he was born big but, not this big. I suppose I noticed this a couple of weeks ago when I realized that I couldn't carry him around the house without getting tired rather quickly.

That's because he weighs more than 16 pounds. Muscular guys out there might shrug at this but I ask you to travel up and down stairs, bend down, stand up and walk around for a few minutes all the while holding this little tub of love and then judge me.

It only makes sense that a kid of such considerable heft would require a larger amount of  sustenance. By extension, it makes sense that we'd consider investing in an up-and-coming grocery store chain — God knows, they're going to be getting our money anyways.

And while we're on the topic of investments Mrs. Blackwell and I will probably need to invest in a new car seat soon because the boy's height/length is now in....

The 96th Percentile.

His brother is tall. His mom is tall. I'm taller than average so, this isn't a surprise. But, it's a bit early to see his feet nearly dangling out of his car seat.

At some point it becomes a farce for me to call him my "little guy." And I wonder if he might just be the first in the Blackwell clan to dunk a basketball; my older brother's claim to have dunked a volleyball, notwithstanding.
Don't kid yourself. If he got the chance he'd devour you
and everyone you love. 

He's a big, big boy and while I know his grandfathers will envision him growing up and playing football, I'm just thinking about grocery bills when he's a teenager.

From the ages of 14-18 my brothers and I were insatiable, remorseless eating machines. I don't remember what the family grocery bill was because when you're a teenager who cares about mom and dad's money, right? But I can assure you, my brothers and I might as well have been a swarm of locusts leaving only bones and empty packages in our wake.

Now, based on the title of this thread you might be wondering how my wife's age fits into all of this.

Well, it doesn't really. It was just a hamhanded way of positioning this awkward segue to...

Wish my wife the happ-happ-happiest birthday!

That's right, today is her big day. And it couldn't have come at a better time.

We just put our new little guy in day care, which is a stress in and of itself. Master Blackwell is in the midst of potty training. Also, he had an accident this week and got a pretty deep gouge into his eye that required two trips to the doctors office.

Mrs. Blackwell just returned to work this week. So sleep has been at a premium just when it's needed most.

All of which is to say, we're desperate and we've been pining for today for a few weeks now. We've made plans for tonight to take a break from the kids and enjoy a couple of hours to recharge by enjoying each other's company, some good drinks and good food.

With all this in mind it seemed only natural when the sitter texted Mrs. Blackwell yesterday and cancelled on us.
Her fan club grows by the day.

Because she's an optimist and she's perpetually positive, Mrs. Blackwell didn't waste much time thinking about how this would affect us. There were two kids crying in her backseat when she got this news.

Yet she focused, made a couple of calls. Good fortune shined upon us and we found another sitter on the shortest of notice.

I have to believe this happened because every once in a while, the cosmos decides that some folks just need a damn break. I also believe that those breaks tend to go to folks like my wife who don't let the bad moments get them down for long. They think forward and move on.

I didn't know how deep her well of restraint, focus, will power and resolve was when we first celebrated her birthday together seven years ago.

I know today. I know and I'm so glad I had the brains to sink my hooks into her and never let go. And I never will.

Happy birthday sweetie. You make life for me and your boys better each and every day.

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