He woke up at 4:20 this morning and Bridget got me up to settle him down. He was extra grouchy, and, as a result, so was I. I haven't been getting much sleep lately. But I know Bridget has to get up and feed him twice in the middle of the night, so I'm not trying to say I'm getting the short end of the stick. I'm just saying it's wearing on me.

I don't get a lot of time at home, especially with my long commute and class on Tuesday and Thursday. It's pretty crappy. The weekends rock; I get to have some good long slouching sessions with the boy.

Anyway, last night the solution was the bouncy seat. The bouncy seat it a fantastic invention, as it requires a minimum of effort to generate a respectable bounce. My only problem is that it's near impossible to do this comfortably from the bed, with the next on the floor nearby, because the sleeping surface of our bed is seven feet off the floor. I expect that if we had a normal height bed, it would be pure bliss.

I came up with that while trying to find a comfortable position for bouncing the bouncy seat. Then I thought about the specific frequency of the bounce, and wondered whether that frequency was engineered for a scientific purpose, or if it was pure accident. I also thought about how to make that bounce frequency longer by extending the wire frame so that the seat was further away from the fulcrum. Then I considered that maybe they didn't make the seats like that because then they'd be too large and unwieldy, or from saftey considerations with the baby would be sitting so high off the ground.

Then I wondered why adults didn't have their own bouncy seats. Sure, we have armchairs and recliners, but those pale in comparison to the metal frame bouncy seat. I imagined that adult bouncy seats would have thick chrome tubing for the frame, and some kind of thick stylish fabric for the seat. They could also vibrate, but would probably not have a removable "action station" that runs on a 9-volt battery.

Then I remembered these porch chairs that my great aunt Alma used to have, which were made of metal and had a bouncing action very similar to the adult bouncy seat I was developing, and how I liked to sit in them so much when I was in fifth grade and went there after school. They were painted this weird dusty lavender color.

She would sometimes take me downtown on the bus to go to Kresge's, where there was a small fast-food cafeteria inside. She only ever let me eat there once, and I got a burrito. I was hoping that it would be better than the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she made me at the house, but it wasn't.

She would put actual butter on them with the peanut butter and jelly. I finally had to tell her not to do that anymore. I think I might have hurt her feelings, but I had to do it. I couldn't stomach another one of those disgusting sandwiches, which I did eat on a daily basis specifically in order that I did not hurt her feelings by refusing to eat the food she had so kindly made.

Then I fell asleep for about 20 minutes before Caden woke up again.

Caden usually sleeps in the bed with us. Last night, I awoke to a cry and Bridget shoving me because I had nearly crushed him with the weight of my obese sleeping body. I didn't even feel him; she says I was on his head. That I was sleeping on my back and his head was underneath me. We're pretty sure that he's forgotten about it by now, but I haven't yet.

Bridget took the edge off a little this morning by reminding me that he was none the worse for wear, and then turning to him and saying, "That was the first time that mommy or daddy practically kills you." I get the sense that we're in for a lifetime of hair-raising, near-death experiences. Like he's going to be a volunteer human shield when he grows up instead of, say, a corporate executive.

You know, I think I'd be all right with that. I hate fucking executives. You wanna know why there's unemployment? I wonder how many normal people those executive pay packages would support, if only they were spread out among many instead of being hoarded by one.

Yesterday he had the biggest dump of all time. He was cutting loose on my lap for about five minutes straight. No fussing or crying, just straight up dumping. I called Bridget as a witness and for backup. She heard him from the kitchen he was so loud. I had expected to handle this all myself, just to have Bridget available in case of emergency, but she went right for removing the diaper on her own, so I wasn't going to say anything till it was over.

It looked like someone had poured an entire jar of caramel sauce in his pants. We were cracking up at the scope of this poop, and Caden just lay there with a look on his face like, "Yeah. I did that. That was me."

He slept real good last night, about five hours in a row. And he was awake an hour or so before that and after his last feeding. He went a long time without eating, but it didn't seem to bother him at all.

Caden was outside yesterday with his eyes open. For a long time. He pretty much liked it, and he spent a good portion of the time sticking his tongue out at me. I wanted to take pictures of him making the tongue faces, but by the time Bridget came out with the camera, and unbuckled him from his carseat harness and etc etc - tongue face time had ended.

He's able to focus on objects about ten feet away, and he can follow them left and right from that distance. He's been getting better at saying "nnnn-GAAaa" when he's crying instead of just "AAAAAAAA." This is kind of nice. Even though I still can't tell what he wants from this attempt at communication, at least I can tell he's trying.

There was a short period of time where his crying could be very frustrating to me. I felt like I was doing something wrong, or at least not doing the right thing, and that was why he was crying. I don't feel like that so much anymore. It's gotta suck to be experiencing some form of mild discomfort and have no idea how to express that to anyone, not even to yourself. I think the crying comes more from the frustration of not being able to communicate than the actual discomfort.