Happy St. Patrick's Day...

St. Patrick's Day started off with a bang. Literally. Banner blew through three diapers in half an hour. One blow out happened mid diaper change and the sh*t hit the fan. And the hamper. And the diaper genie. And everything in between. I am serious when I say my baby exploded.

Our little pooper.

Thank goodness it was a Saturday and Trevor was around to help clean up. Because I didn't know where to begin. Poo was everywhere.


I think it is because he is breast fed. Banner will go days without pooping and then *wham* it all comes out at once. Like he is storing it up just so he can see how far he can shoot it this time. And, as mentioned before, the B-Man always explodes with a smile. It is his early warning system.


The Great St. Patrick's Day Explosion O Poop meant that we got a late start getting to the Greenville Avenue parade. But we were lucky and managed to score a decent parking spot without too much effort. There was even space for another car behind us. We were unloading Banner when it was claimed by a white four door sedan. When the occupants exited, they did so in a cloud of pot smoke. The smell was unmistakable and there was nothing we could do to shield Banner from it until the wind carried it away. Trevor and I joked that it was Banner's first contact high.

[Shakes head...poor baby]


The parade was fascinating as always; mainly from a people watching perspective. My favorite float was the one sponsored by a law firm that specialized in DWI, misdemeanors and felonies. Talk about catering to your target audience.


After the parade, we made a beeline back to the car with the rest of the parents with small children. In years past, I never realized that a great exodus of families took place, but it makes sense. As awesome as it is, scantily clad coeds drinking heavily at 11 AM in green t-shirts while packed on "floats" with port-o-potties advertising bars, beer and strip clubs isn't really appropriate for the under 18 crowd. That said, if you were going to take your children to some part of the event or another, I guess the parade is better than having them witness the drunken debauchery that follows.


Not wanting to be completely lame after the parade, however, Trevor and I purchased sandwiches and a six pack of Guinness, and headed over to Auntie Mimi's house. She's rarely in town and wanted to see the baby so we thought it was a win-win. Mimi wasn't there when we arrived, though, so we waited for her on the front stoop of her house, while her neighbors watched us nervously from the sidewalk. Because if you were going to profile someone you suspected of possibly trying to break into your neighbor's house, it is obviously the couple sitting in plain sight in broad daylight with a ten and a half week old infant and the bag of sandwiches from Celebrity Cafe.

Mimi's neighbor's later claimed that they didn't see me or the baby. Only Trevor dressed in a bright green polo. Which, I guess, makes it a little better? Maybe?

(To be fair, though, Trevor did walk to Mimi's back gate at one point to see if he could open it so we could eat lunch on her patio. I am sure this could easily be interpreted as his attempt at breaking and entering. Guess it is just as well that he didn't take my advice to hop the fence. We would have all been arrested for sure.)

Mimi finally arrived, though, and let us in. I am sure the HP police were sad to no longer have a reason to continue driving back and forth in front of my aunt's house waiting for us to make our move.

I made Mimi split a Guinness with me to ring in the holiday. While it is true that my doctor said one beer is fine while nursing (he actually encourages it because he believes the hops increases milk supply. Plus, apparently I am a little high strung and he wants me to relax), I still feel weird drinking. But it was worth it to see Auntie Mimi down her portion at two in the afternoon. It is the little things in life, after all.

Afterwards, we returned home where Trevor and Banner promptly passed out on the couch. My boys were all partied out.


It was a good day.

And, better yet, when Melissa came over to sit with Banner that evening (while Trev and I made an appearance at a friend's engagement party), we could confidently claim that she wouldn't have to worry about changing any poopy diapers since the B-Man was - literally and figuratively - all pooped out! ;P