Action Shots

It's high time for some more Sam pictures. One neat thing about newborns is that they provide a wealth of photographic material. Especially actions shots.

This first one is of Sam sleeping on the sofa. His puckered lips and wrinkly wrists are worthy of note.
















This next one is of Sam sleeping on the pillow on Annie's lap. This is his pre-feeding nap.
















And then of course there's always his favorite port-a-crib in which to sleep. This is his triumphant-greek-god pose. Think of Poseidon with a trident in his hand.
















Here is Sam engaged in his post-nursing nap. The adult version of this is called the food coma. When Sam get's like this there is no waking him up.
















My next post will be on his other favorite activity: pooping.

Meeting Sam

This was the moment we were looking forward to most after Sam was born: to watch as the girls' met Sam for the first time.

The twins had a decent notion of what was going on. They understood that mommy had a baby in her tummy and that he was coming out soon. Julia didn't have quite the same grasp of the situation, but she knew roughly was going on.

Genna, by rights of her overwhelming enthusiasm, got to hold Sam first (she shouldered and elbowed her way to the front of the line). She just could not stop smiling and touching and pressing her cheek against him. Sam, for his part, seemed unphased and unimpressed.

Kate got to hold her new brother next. And though she wasn't as vociferous (squealy, really) in her exclaiming over the baby, she was no less excited and thrilled. She was aglow while basking in his babiness. Sam, for his part, seemed unphased and unimpressed.

Julia came last, though certainly not least. For those of you who know Julia, you'll recall that she was born with an intense baby hunger. She trembles with excitement at seeing them and shrieks when denied access to them.

I believe her smile says it all. She was in heaven with her 'baby bwudah' (alternatively, her 'littoh bwudah'). Again, Sam, for his part, seemed unphased and unimpressed.

Official Press Release

Our little family has had a very busy past week or so. Annie in particular. She was busy laboring and giving birth (I myself only broke a mild sweat while coaching her). And though many of you have already met Sam, or seen pictures on Uncle Chrissy's blog, here is the official press release.

Say howdy to Samuel Monroe Lindsay, born 8/6/7 (that's 867-5309 to you 80s Pop fans), measuring in at a robust 21.5", and weighing a hefty 9 lbs 13 oz.


















We've had him for just over a week now, and it looks like we're going to keep him. Besides, the return policy expires in two days.


Here he is being assaulted by his first bath. He didn't take too kindly to it. He hardly made a whimper when he was born, but this sent him into fits of crankiness. What does it say about a lad who has no problem being pushing through a birthing canal and then balks at a bath? I can't imagine that it bodes well for us.

This next shot is of him laid out in his warmer. I tried to get the camera low to give you a perspective on how big he is. He's three pounds bigger than our previous biggy (Julia, at 6 lbs 13 oz), and it feels as though we skipped the whole newborn phase with Sam and jumped ahead about a month.


















This last shot shows his jowliness. His cheeks are so heavy that they stretch his face ground-ward. I'm just wondering if the stars are aligning for another Tillman - Lindsay love connection. Is there any coincidence in the fact that Sam and Maggie were born within months of each other and that they weighed in at the same exact poundage? I think not.

Julia and Max

The Tillman's came over last night and provided us with a delicious casserole and entertainment. One thing we commented on is how much Max has become accustomed to all the girls--Julia in particular. They have found new friends in one another.

Here they are playing on the slide together. By the time I got outside with the camera, they were beginning to brawl a bit. Max wanted to go down the slide, and Julia wanted to go up. They soon found that those two plans were mutually exclusive. Max took matters into his own hands and tried pushing her down. Good for him; she knows better (her smile shows that she knows exactly what she is doing).

















This second shot is of them playing on our mini play structure. They were getting along pretty well by this time. They were only on it for about 5 minutes, so there wasn't much time for chaos to break out.

















I took this last shot at the end of the evening. Julia was brushing her teeth, and Max wanted in on the action. They played this way for over five minutes and only stopped once I had my fill of pictures and ushered them out.

















The big question now is whether or not love is in the air. Will we look back on these photos in eighteen years and say, 'Ah, we always knew they'd end up together," or will we say, "We had such high hopes! Why did Max have to join that Coptic monastery in Egypt and leave his betrothed heartbroken?"

Wrapping up the poultry scene

The only chicken that didn't flee the girls was a chicken that couldn't. She was crippled, making her Prime Target # 1 for the girls affections.

Kate was gentle enough, but Julia had a mischievous gleam in her eye the entire time. I did what I could to shield the hen from too much toddler attention, but I'm sure the bird had night mares that night.

When the chickens turned out to be too, well, chicken, Julia turned her attention to some larger birds. Geese. These water fowl, unlike their smaller cousins, were fully willing to take her on.

This photo is misleading - the geese are posturing and hissing at Julia. I had to intervene - this time on Julia's behalf. I doubt she would have faired well against those beaks and buffeting wings.

Life Lessons

Some friends of ours own a ranch, complete with yard full of chickens. We took our girls in there to give them a taste of farm life, and all three loved it. Julia, in particular, loved the chickens.

Here she is observing the chickens being fed. Hmm. Chickens so close...what's a two-year-old to do?






Then it dawns on her. Can't you see the delight on her face?


















She must chase them, of course. No creature on earth reacts to a good chase as well as a chicken. But Julia didn't just chase them, she terrorized them (as seen in her menacing arm-raising).


















But guess what happens when you chase chickens, Julia? They soon realize, with even their minimal intelligence, to stay clear of you.

Here she stands, looking around the now empty chicken yard, wondering where her toys have gotten off to.

Julia, you will find that people behave in much the same way. The more you chase them, especially with arms raised, the less likely they are to hang out with you. Take this as a lesson learned.

Wheat-surfin' USA

I rarely do posts on me, but today seemed a good day to be narcissistic and to show what a cool wheat-surfer I am. That's right, I'm being towed behind a quad while standing on a suped-up skateboard.

It was a lot of fun. This was my first time ever trying something like this, and I took to it like a fish out of water. I spent far more time on my hands and knees than I did on the board. I guess I'm not that cool (no suprise), but I had my half a minute of glory here, so back off.

A Reminder

Last night was a very rough night with Julia -- I am running on only a few hours sleep right now. So, the purpose of this post is to remind me of why I'll keep her.

This first photo is of her fully decked out and ready for a night on the town. She's donned her tinkerbell dress (a bit oversized, but that's stylish), a sun hat, a mismatched pair of shoes, and, of course, a mirror for touch ups. And just so you know, this get-up was chosen by her - we had no influence, eventhough it looks like something I might concoct in my ignorance. But on her it's just plain cute.

This last photo is of her wearing her beloved bucket as a hat. She loves to wear this thing and it makes her look like a capuchin monkey. Annie and I even have her clap her hands together like she's holding a pair of cymbals. Sure enough, she transforms into the spitting image of monkey on a leash tied to an organ-grinder.

OK, I think I'll keep her. For now. But a few more nights like last night, and ...