Things are falling apart and I just got here. Last week there were tornadoes all over the place, one of which just 5 miles down the road. Two days ago there was an earthquake. An earthquake felt in North Carolina: Who’s ever heard of such a thing? And now there is a major hurricane coming. I think the first word out of my mouth is going to be “apocalypse.”
It looks like the meanest part of the hurricane is going to miss us, but if it doesn’t, look out Hillsville cause here I come! If I go see MaMa and PaPa Mitchell, there will be plenty of holding and feeding going on. Me and Pops are going to the grocery store later today with all the rest of the nutcases to stock up in case we lose power–not looking forward to that.
One good thing that’s happened over the past week is that my tears are working, so Mom and Pop don’t have to torture me anymore by sticking those cotton balls in my eyes to get out the eye boogers. Also, me and the Folks got our pictures taken last weekend. It wasn’t so bad. The lady did tell me to “work it”, but I let it slide. What was supposed to be only a $10 session turned into $100 worth of pictures. My parents thought they could get out of there by shelling out only $10. They are dumber than they look. Even I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
It’s not official, because we don’t have a digital scale that shows decimals, but it looks like I’m over 10 pounds. I’m still afraid, just to make sure, that Pops is going to take me to the grocery store and stick me in one of those scales you use to weigh your tomatoes and broccoli. I may be a baby, but I think that type of behavior is frowned upon.
I’m getting geared up for college football season. My first one and I already have plenty of Hokie stuff. The only thing I’m missing is one of those hats with the two beer cans on top and a long straw.
By the way, here is the picture Pops took just after he told me that Bryan Stinespring is still the Hokie Offensive Coordinator.
That’s it for now. Irene may be coming and I need to get ready for her.
Izaak P Mitchell, Esq.
It has been a while since I last posted but not a lot has happened. My cheeks must be getting chubbier, because Mommy will not stop pinching them. The folks took me to the beach again last weekend–sand, sun, more pictures, nothing new there. Neither of them will give up on their favorite outfits even though they’re skin tight on me. I look like a jiggolo in the “Wild About Mommy” onesy.
I have some “professional” pictures coming up this weekend. That’s just what I need–more pictures! This is going to be more annoying than Mommy and Daddy’s pictures because some schmo I’ve never seen before is going to want me in some silly pose. If he asks me to “work it, work it”, I’m outta there. And the folks wonder why I pee on them when they change my diaper. By the way, they are getting better at avoiding it, but I’ve made some strategic changes. I got Mommy last night, and I got Pops twice today.
Speaking of Pops, he thinks I’m going to be a lefty. He bases this on the fact that 90 percent of the time when I punch myself in the face, it’s a left hook. He thinks me being a left-handed pitcher is the ticket to the majors and the easy life. I don’t have the heart to tell him I really have no clue how to use either arm. If I did, I wouldn’t be punching myself in the face 50 times a day.
Things are getting a little hairy around here. Pops has taken this “tummy time” fiasco to a whole new level. He disguises it as me getting stronger in the arms, shoulders and neck so I can turn myself over and eventually crawl, but it’s really his own little torture device he likes to use on me because I don’t go to sleep as fast as he wants me to. Proof of this torture is below. I made it out of the blanket and over the yellow hump for the the first time, but was to pooped to go further.
That’s it for now. I hear Pops coming and he has that “tummy time” look in his eye. Gotta pretend I’m asleep.
Izaak P Mitchell, Esq.
We had no visitors this past weekend, so, of course, the folks couldn’t resist taking me out to the beach. Hot, windy and sandy seems to be what they like. It wasn’t so bad for me. They put me up in the back of truck and I feel asleep. At least, I was asleep in the times between the thousand pictures that Mommy just had to take. When not taking pictures of me they sat on their fat bottoms and just stared out into space. No surfing, no swimming, not even a walk along the beach. When I get my legs working, I suppose I’ll have to show them how to really have fun at the beach.
The weekend was a pretty good one. Mommy and Daddy finally figured out how to position me when feeding so that I don’t spit up all the boobie milk. They are keeping me at about 140 ml each feeding now to keep me from spitting up. I know I can handle more but they are holding firm for now. I’ll have to put up a bigger fight if this keeps up–gotta feed the machine. By the way, can someone please tell them that I don’t have to be best friends with the cats and the cats don’t have to be best friends with me. They keep trying to make us like each other and I’m not interested unless they can feed me. And I am sure the cats feel exactly the same way about me.
Otherwise, things are going pretty good. No doctor’s appointments coming up for a while. I’m just working on getting bigger and figuring out how this body is supposed to work. I’m getting a little better at controlling my arms, but I still hit myself in the face too much when I get excited, and I still startle myself when I fart. Not sure if that last one will ever stop because Daddy woke himself up yesterday when he ripped one.
Gotta go. I heard someone say something about a diaper change. Need to pretend I’m asleep.
Izaak P. Mitchell, Esq.
So Pops took me to see the doctor today. He complains about having to take time out of his work day to take me, but I say he needs to either not take me or shut it. It’s always worse for me than it is for him. He doesn’t get that thermometer stuck where it doesn’t belong. Not to mention, today, I was stuck with 4 different needles. They think I’ll get Polio and Hepatitis and a whole bunch of other undesirable problems if they don’t keep sticking those needles in me–right in my leg and that old lady nurse wasn’t very delicate about it. I thought shots were supposed to go in the rump where I have a little padding!
So, I find out while at the doctor’s office that Pops is taking me to get 4 shots and telling me the whole time that it’s going to be alright, but he has a shot he still needs to get and has just been putting off. Way to set an example Daddy! I’ve had my Whooping Cough shot, now man up and go get yours!
On to the stuff you really care about; I am now 8 pounds and 7 ounces compared to 6 pounds and 7 ounces from 3 weeks ago. I am 1.5 inches taller. I’m not getting any college scholarships yet, but I am now 21 inches tall. I’ve been eating 150 ml each feeding for about the last week. Three weeks ago I was only eating 80 or 90. Doc said that 150 was probably the limit for me for a while because it’s the upper level for even full-term babies that are 2 to 4 months old. Apparently this Doctor doesn’t know me very well. Keep the booby milk coming Mommy. I can take more!
That’s about it for today. Pops has promised to feed me after I finish this post.
Izaak P. Mitchell, Esq.