Curtis is my husband. Often referred to as “Daddy”. He’s a retired firefighter who, after hurting his back, left the flames and soot for a desk and a big computer screen. He’s a good guy, and one of those quiet types who you would think is all nice and sweet until he quietly makes a hilarious (and almost always completely inappropriate) comment. Unfortunately communication with him is a bit tough as his speaks in a foreign tongue. It’s a language he refers to as “Guy Talk”. One of the main features of this language is that you don’t have to actually respond to questions or comments out loud, you just truly believe that the person you are talking to will know what you are thinking. Needless to say, if you don’t speak guy talk, or GT for short, you have no idea what the heck is going on in his head, and may become quite frustrated at the lack of response to your questions.
Anthony. My first born. Often referred to as Prince Anthony. He is five years old, although he is quick to point out that he is ALMOST SIX! He is just wrapping up kindergarten and has managed to surpass both of us in his knowledge of the world in his 5 (almost 6) years. He will often ask a question, listen to your answer, then tell you why your answer is wrong. Anthony came back with us from a trip to Vegas. Just a warning folks, what happens in Vegas doesn’t necessarily stay there; sometimes you get a very loud souvenir. He was the first grandchild on both sides. Needless to say, he’s been a bit spoiled by all of his relatives. He’s a very loving boy with a flair for the dramatic and like most 5 (almost 6) year olds has unlimited energy reserves and a love of running, crashing and jumping onto things, people, etc. He looks exactly like his father. He acts exactly like me. (Refer to the earlier description: loud, fiery temper, a little OCD). When he wants something to eat he “IS STARVING!!!!!!” and when he is tired he is “just too exhausted to be able to make my legs move.” The good news is he has informed me that he wants to be a Drama teacher when he grows up. It’s a perfect fit.
Jack Daniel. Yes, we went there. No it’s not a tribute to where he came from, Jack and Daniel are both family names. He’ll love it when he gets to college. (Or we will foot the therapy bill, either way…) Jack set the tone early by creating his own timeline. We had wanted to have two children close in age, so we started trying for another one when Anthony was just 9 months old. After one miscarriage and several years of trying, including some fertility treatments, we decided enough was enough. We were going to be a one child household. I was going to buy a Jeep Wrangler and we would be taking Anthony on amazing vacations! We got rid of ALL of our baby clothes, crib, strollers, bottles, etc, only to find out I was pregnant about 3 weeks later. Turns out, I was actually already pregnant while handing out the huge bags of clothes and selling everything off at a yard sale for a tenth of the replacement cost. Good times. Jack is my wild card. He was a perfect angel when he was born. The nurses at the hospital would actually ask us if they could take him to the nursery because he was such a good baby. He started sleeping through the night at 5 weeks, 3 days and everyone raved about what an easy child he was. No one believed me when I told them he was a little terror at home!
Then at 6 weeks he had double hernia surgery (took about 10 years off of my life). At 3 months he got a strep infection which led to his being on antibiotics while my parents were babysitting for 4 nights. In case you don’t have children, or have been lucky enough to not have a baby on antibiotics, let me tell you what happens… it causes horrific diarrhea. We are talking the kind that soaks right through the diaper and everything he is wearing and subsequently everything you are wearing if you are lucky enough to be holding him at the time of the blow out. He sleeps about 14 hours a night, which is amazing! He sleeps for about 40 minutes during the day. Not awesome. He laughs easily and has a beautiful smile. He also spits up. A lot. We refer to him as “the PukeMaster”. He specializes in throwing up at the worst possible time, like today when we went to visit a friend’s new house. On her dark colored rug. THREE TIMES. (After the third time I pulled the plug and we left. She was awesome about it, but I was mortified!) Not only does he refuse to take more than a catnap during the day, he also likes to be in motion. Jack’s motto, as translated by my dad during their 4 night babysitting ordeal is “Just keep moving, and no one gets hurt.” It’s a good thing he is cute.