Roman numerals

Packages addressed to Makena seem to arrive at the house on a daily basis and it's beginning to take its toll on Jack. We've tried to explain to him that he was showered with the same kind of love and attention from our friends and family when he was a baby, but - duh- he doesn't remember any of it and he is highly skeptical. For every couple of gifts that arrive for her, we get a teary meltdown from him begging for a PSP game because he is a poor suffering child who has nothing and no one to play with. He's good and he can really squeeze out the tears in a heartbreaking way which makes me suspect that he has too much salt in his diet.

If I'd taken the time to put a scrapbook together for him and maybe slapped a couple of pictures in a baby album, that might have gone a long way and convinced him more than me saying,"trust me, you got the same deal." But seriously, he is hurting from my diminished attention and he's growing up so fast because of the new role we've assigned him and it's tugging at my heart that I might be missing some of it because I'm too busy wiping snot or changing diapers. Yeah, I feel guilty.

Still, I'm not going to say that the honeymoon is over between Mak and Jack, because he unabashedly adores her and is very protective of her as long as she doesn't fart on him. She did so the other day and he turned around and let one rip on her! I had to nip that in the butt a.s.a.p.. Seriously, if he thinks that he has carte blanche to flatulate on his sister, I'll pass out from the fumes trying to air the house out. And let's not forget Tiger's contributions to the air quality around here...so sick.

In the meantime, my husband and I have stopped leaving any gift packages we receive for Makena out in the open where Jack can see them. I sneak them into the house and quickly unwrap them and get rid of the evidence while he is away at school or my husband sneaks them in after Jack has gone to sleep.

Well, another box arrived the other day and I opened it assuming it was for Mak and I pulled out this enormous blue Rams jersey with the number eighteen on the back of it. I was confused until I saw that my husband had ordered it for himself. I called him at work to tell him that his "package" had arrived and you'd think it was Christmas morning the way his voice shot up with excitement (the arrival of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition seems to do that, as well). He was supposed to fly up to San Francisco last weekend to attend some football game with friends of his, and it was a Rams game, and he had decided that he was going to wear Roman Gabriel's jersey (vintage, I might add) to taunt his friends who were rooting for the 49ers - I'm pretty sure I'm getting all the teams mixed up but I do know that it was number 18.

Anyway, the trip got canceled at the last minute and I thought that was the end of that until I found him in the living room over the weekend watching a football game, wearing the Roman Gabriel Jersey, while talking to his friend on the phone and declaring that he was going to wear it every time he watched a game during the season. I quickly flashed on the inflatable Budweiser seat with the beer can holders in the arm rests and made a mental note to donate it to the Goodwill before he remembered where it was in the garage...because the thought of him sitting in it, playing dress up, and slamming his fist into a tray full of Nachos... Well, my imagination can't take this kind of visual. I think I can handle him shooting "dog liqueur," better.

And then he told Jack that he would be wearing the jersey to trick-or-treat with him on Halloween. Should I be the dutiful wife and go as a cheerleader? Halloween, after all, is meant to be scary. Makena could be the football and Jack could be the whack fan with a chunk of foam cheese on his head...or the Ref?

Actually, it is kind of brilliant.

What is happening to my family, seriously?


Is a bewildered.