Hank is 2 months old!

I'm 2 months old today!

As you can see by the evidence above, Mommy finally snapped a picture of me smiling. See, I'm a bucket of smiles whenever I'm awake (and not eating, of course), but the minute Mommy brings out that camera, I have to put on my model face. Which looks more like this:

I was going for "Blue Steel", but I think it looks more like "WTF, Mom?" I suppose I have to work on this facial control thing if I actually want to model someday. 

Anyway. I'm cooing up a storm these days and I have no problem hanging out on the floor while Mommy gets a quick shower in whenever she can. I still take all of my naps in the ring sling, though sometimes I'll fall asleep in the car seat... but only rarely. I still sleep a decent amount at night and even have a relatively consistent bedtime and morning wake up time. Even my feedings are pretty consistent from day to day. I attended my first wedding this month (Congratulations, JJ and Paul!) and had a blast dancing to the Black Eyed Peas from the sling. Other firsts include rolling over from tummy to back a couple of weeks ago and crawling!!! (<---kind of. Mom will fill everyone in on that later.) Yeah, I rocked my second month of life, what can I say?

Look who discovered his reflection!

Hey, is that... me?!

Damn, I AM cute, huh?

The Little Lamb swing we have has a little mobile with lambs and stars on it, but what Hank is most enthralled with is the mirror that is at the center of all the lambs and stars. He'll sit there for a good ten minutes and just stare at himself... then again, I shouldn't be too impressed because he sat and watched me fold laundry for about half an hour yesterday. I'd say he's a pretty mellow kid.

I love Mondays

When I was a teacher, I hated Mondays. Never in my life did I think that I would actually LIKE that dreaded day that meant a return to work with five classrooms full of kids who were just as disgruntled about it being Monday as I was.

Now? I LOVE them.

Yeah, it's great having John around on the weekends because he helps out so much, but the return to routine on Monday is just awesome. Especially because I feel well-rested since John does help me out so much on Saturday and Sunday. Johnny also welcomes the return to a routine and is always really well-behaved and a lot of fun on Mondays. Not that he doesn't miss his daddy, as evidenced by the fact that the first he thing he says when I walk into his room on Monday morning is "Daddy?"

For whatever reason, everything seems to work out better on Mondays. Johnny asks to eat when he's hungry and will sit in his high chair for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hank stays asleep while I put Johnny down for his nap. Johnny actually goes down for a nap. I almost always manage to get the laundry done and put away.

Yes, Mondays are magical. But that doesn't mean I'm not jonesin' for the weekend by the time Friday rolls around. Monday is definitely the highlight, then it's downhill from there... don't ask me why. I have no clue myself.

20 months

I'm 20 months old today!

I have completely left those teen months behind and am barreling headfirst into my '20s. Before I know it I'll be 2! Holy moly! 

Well, the last month has been full of talking since I know lots and lots of words. Most of these words are one syllable, but I can say "Johnny" and "Daddy". Any other multisyllabic words or phrases get turned into monosyllabic words (like "tank" = "thank you"). Some adults may not understand what it is I'm saying, but luckily Mom totally gets it. Someday I might put these words together to make sentences!! So far the only phrase I can say is "Hey you!" which would get me in trouble in places like restaurants if I wasn't so darn cute. 

As you can see from the photo above, I eat all kinds of foods now. I have enough teeth to take bites out of larger foods or eat things like ribs off the bone. I use a fork or a spoon occasionally, though I tend to get over it pretty quickly and eat with my hands. More evidence of my carnivory:

I take a nap almost every day now at about the same time and have even given Mommy a break by not fighting it too hard. Bedtime, however, is a completely different story. Go big or go home, right, Daddy?

Hank's SSN

For the first eight weeks of his life, Hank has been pretty much off the grid. As in, he doesn't have a social security number. While John and I are kind of tempted to keep it that way, we know it'll just be more of a hassle to get him one later in life when we sign him up for things like, oh, public school. So I'm doomed to play the government's game.

Unlike the hospital, at the birth center there isn't a person who does Social Security (SS from here on out, despite the fact that those initials have been taken previously by the Third Reich... I kind of think that's fitting considering what the Social Security Administration does, which is assign you a number so others can keep tabs on you) paperwork. Therefore, you have to go to the SS office yourself and apply for a number for your newborn after you get the birth certificate.

Last week, I picked up Hank's birth certificate and called the SS office to find out what I had to do to get a SSN for Hank. The automated message thing that I called was useless. It just said to bring a form of ID to the office and apply in person. So I packed up Johnny and Hank and headed to the closest SS office. I drove up and actually found a parking space in the teeny-tiny lot and got all excited because the parking lot fits, oh, maybe seven cars. "If there are only 7 people are here, I'll be in and out in a jiffy!" I said to myself.

I should have known better. This is a government office we're talking about.

I strapped Johnny into the stroller and put Hank in the ring sling, walked into the office. . . and looked around in dismay at the number of people waiting. All of the seats were taken and a good number of people were standing. However, I wasn't about to go through the rigamarole of putting kids back in the car without a SSN for Hank. So I got my number and then waited in line to check in.

And I waited. And waited. . . with my fussy newborn and irritated toddler. Finally I got to "check in". Mind you, this wasn't to actually get the SS number, it was to make sure that I was at the office for the correct reason.

This is my conversation at the check in window:

Me (handing over my numbered ticket and Hank's birth certificate): "I'm here to get a SSN for my newborn."

SS woman: "Okay. I need two forms of ID."

Me: "I have my driver's license and passport, will that work?"

SS woman: "Oh no, not for you. For your baby."

[shocked pause]

Me: "Really? He's only seven weeks old... what other ID does he have other than a birth certificate?"

SS woman: "Well, a shot record would work."

Me (frantically searching through all of the medical paperwork given to me at the birth center): "I don't have his shot record."

SS woman: "A certificate of live birth would work too. Or any kind of document with his name and birth date on it from the birth center will work."

Me: "None of these have his full name on them. They are just records of my labor and his birth written by the midwife, but none of them has his full name."

SS woman: "Then I can't help you. You need to bring a signed testimonial of live birth from your midwife. It can't be a copy, it has to be an original where you can see the pen marks."

Me: "So these 20 or so pages of records of birth and my labor along with the birth certificate aren't going to be enough?"

SS woman: "No."

Me: "[Insert choice swear word here]."

Really?!?!? TWO forms of ID for a NEWBORN?!?!?! He's been on this earth for seven weeks and he should, what? Have a driver's license? MAYBE you should put that in your automated phone service; you know, the one I called to make sure I had everything I needed? So irritating. Especially when SS is a joke anyway. Why do we need to jump through so many hoops so you can assign a number to my child to make sure that he'll be paying taxes? It seems that YOU should be jumping through the hoops for ME to make sure he gets a number. And don't you EVEN give me any crap about how it will pay off when he's 65 and gets his SS benefits because we all know that's a load of toddler poo. (Why toddler poo? Because I imagine that it stinks way more than bull poo.)

Rant over.

Summary: Social Security Administration? It blows.