Life here is so hectic these days, and it is consequently so long between blog entries, that I am starting to think my posts have a pretty schizophrenic feel about them. When one entry covers a whole week it touches on how much I adore my kids "Fraser used the potty the other morning, look how freaking cute he is reading his tractor magazine!" and "Hammie was so good at the doctor he barely cried at all when he got his shots" and also touches on how freaking crazy they make me "While I was trying to convince the diaper-less Fraser to sit on the potty to pee, and he was adamantly refusing to do so, he decided to pee on my feet" and "Last night Hammie was up ALL FREAKING NIGHT screaming his face off for NO reason whatsoever. I was, in fact, so exhausted in the morning I started to put Hammie's powdered formula into the coffee maker." Seriously, I can't make this stuff up.

So please excuse me if I sound like I can't make up my mind these days on whether I want to nominate my children for some sort of perfect-baby/toddler-of-the-year award or ship them off to military school. There are good days and bad days, and good hours and bad hours and good minutes and "Why did you pour that on the floor?" "Get that out of your mouth!" "PLEASE be quiet for 5 seconds" minutes in the McBeth house.

Anyway, on Wednesday night Fraser and Hammie took their very first bath together, more because Fraser refused to get out the tub and I needed to wash Hammie than for any important milestone in Hammie's life. Fraser was a little surprised to have company in the tub, but (aside from trying to wash Hammie's hair) he was very good natured about the whole experience. Hammie barely seemed to notice that Fraser was even in the tub with him (even during the head washing) and was much more interested in trying to eat the tub toys than in negotiating tub territory with his brother.

Fraser and Hammie had their two year and six month (respectively) visits to the doctor and they are both doing well. Fraser was great, needed no shots, and barely whimpered when they took blood from his finger. He is 29 pounds and 35 and half inches tall. He likes pinacoladas and getting caught in the rain. Hammie is up to 18 pounds, which puts him back up in the 70th percentile and makes both his mom and his doctor very happy. The doctor did express considerable concern that Hammie is still adamantly refusing to eat rice cereal though, and recommended that if he still isn't eating solid food in a week I take him to see a specialist.

Now, maybe I have mellowed somewhat since Hammie is my second child, or maybe total sleep deprivation is starting to catch up with me, but the doctor's concern/recommendation did not throw me into the total I'm-A-Bad-Mommy tailspin it usually would have. Yes, I acknowledge that Hammie is probably not as advanced in the eating department as he should be, but since he is gaining weight now, and drinking fine from a bottle, I just don't see the need to parade him in front of a team of specialists to have them poke at his tongue and jam things in his mouth. So, despite Dr. MB's recommendation, I figure we'll give solid food at least a few more weeks before we call in the bad-mommy police.

As you can see in the video (which will hopefully actually load this time) Hammie is quickly learning to sit on his own, which is very exciting! This is the difficult time in the process though, as he really wants to practice since it is fun to sit and not have to lie on the ground all the time, but he still can't be relied on not to suddenly lurch backwards and land on his head. So I spend a lot of time just sitting behind him while he plays with his toys. He is also starting to get up onto all fours and rock back and forth now. And, just like his talented older brother, he has used this new talent to consistently move backward or launch himself forward onto his face.

Next weekend we will be heading down to NY/NJ to have Hammie baptized (get thee behind me Satan) so I should have lots of new pictures and stories for you all after that. I will, of course, attempt to post before then lest my schizophrenic ranting prompt some concerned reader to recommend a mental health evaluation for me, but I make no promises. Now if you'll excuse me, my brilliant first born is trying to use his markers to color purple spots on the dog.