I Fear For My Life

For some reason, I've become the crankiest, fussiest, not sleeping at night, at all, infant on the block.

I think this has driven my parents insane.

My dad has taken to shouting "shut up and go to bed" after I've been changed, fed, rocked, burped, primped, coifed, and hell even Martenized, yet still wake up crying my fool head off not 10 minutes after laying down.

This has lead to a level of frustration on my parents part that could be detrimental to my health.

I'm screwing up and can't stop.

I'm Lazy. Yeah, with a capital L.

I'm too tired to think straight due to Will kicking my ass again.

Look at these pics and have fun.

Oh yeah, on the sidebar I've put a link to my Flickr photo page where I'll be hosting his photos.

Enjoy.

Up all night with Prince Will

Since I don't sleep when the rest of the world does, I ought to get into either a latenight talk show or start hawking junk on infomercials. I think mom and dad are at their wit's end.

BLOG JACK

This is Ben, and I am freaking wrecked. This kid is driving me nuts, and if I don't get some sleep pretty soon, I'm going to give myself a vasectomy with a rusty tin can.

AND NOW BACK TO WILL

The big guy is looking at me strangley, send help.

So it's dad's birthday. Big whoop, I gots LOVES!

So lately I've been pretty blocked up, which hasn't made me all that agreeable. Today my Grandmother and Granddad (I capitalize all Grandparents because in the future they will spoil me rotten and let me get away with murder) came and visited me. I was wearing my camo's again( you know it IS still hunting season) and everyone was dutifully impressed with my level of cuteness. GM and GD (the names have been shortened because dad is a lazy butt) held me and patted me, and got onto dad for being mean to me.

They should too. The other day while getting my diaper changed I emptied my bladder. Right into my own face. I was upset as you can imagine. That nuckle dragging father of mine had the gall to call me a Piss Head. For that little comment I crapped double when my next diaper change came due. So my GM made me some sleeping gowns, and you don't dare to make fun of these gown's because they are custom made and quite bad ass. They passed me back and forth, making faces at me, rubbing my back, patting me, and spoiling me. Oh yeah, they also fed me. Hey! Wearing a sleeping gown doesn't make me a sissy! They brought the Granddog with them, I think it was a dog, well, they told me it was a dog. It looked like one of my little Pooh stuffed toys. The dogs that live here didn't know what to think of it, and one of the cats was contemplating eatting that 4lb animal. You know it takes a REAL MAN to say he wears a gown to bed, so just leave it alone!

Anyway, my folks strapped me into my seat and we went to my Aunt Sharon's house for dad's birthday. I managed to spit up all over myself on the way there, and made quite a mess in dad's car. Once we arrived I had a whole bunch of cousins holding me, loving on me, and making me feel the title "Prince William" was deserved. The only trouble was that while getting a diaper change I pooped on my camo outfit. Mom didn't bring me a change of clothes, so the rest of the evening I was wearing just a diaper and black socks. I am going to get my parents for that one. I may look like a tiny old man, but for the love of God don't dress me like one. I managed to hold off my big meltdown till we got home, and now I'm driving both my parents insane. It's good to be the Prince.

Will

Whats new in my world

Well, my plastibell and umbilical cord fell off. I've also got a raging case of pink eye, the viral kind, not the bacterial kind. So after a week of eye drops I find out it won't work and has to run it's course, and to top it off I've got clogged up tear duct. Also I found out that breast milk gives me the runs, and formula blocks me. My ass is raw. My farts are getting to be legendary in this house too. Dad gave me a high five and told mom "I'm glad he can do that, now I can really blame my farts on him."

Lets see, I'm also having trouble burping. Dad smacks my back, holds me face down by my jaw bone (I SWEAR TO GOD, CALL THE COPS, THIS HAMFISTED CAVEMAN IS GOING TO KILL ME) and I burp eventually, but first I have to spit up (thats the cute phrase for it, I puke my toenails up) then I'll burp. Also dad has learned not to hang out topless around me. I like that nipple ring. I like to do chin ups on that bad boy. Dad has shown amazing restraint by not flinging me off like a booger. Love that guy, even if he is as gentle as a battery acid enema.

Will.