Yesterday morning he had happy time. Smiling and almost laughing for a good 30 minutes straight. It was wonderful.
I was feeding him late last night in his room, and he was kind of smiley after that, too. I tried my hardest to recenter my world view around him. Instead of focusing on the importance of work, or the neverending distractions I entertain myself with, I tried to center my world around Caden and picture everything in relation to him. I was not able to do this as well as I had hoped. I need more practice, and I was in a marginally uncomfortable position in the chair. Still, it's a good goal to have.
I've also made the discovery that, trite though this may sound, every smile I get is priceless. Every single one makes me the richest man in the world, for just a little bit.
Tuesday, May 06, 2003
My shoulder and back have been killing me for almost a week. I think it started when I was holding Caden all crooked.
He wanted to be held over my shoulder, but I wanted to be able to see him. So I twisted myself up for an inordinately long period of time. This, I think, is what has led to my injury. I shall suffer.
My third doctor's appointment was supposed to be yesterday. Yes, they canceled it again. That's zero out of three appointments they've kept. I would look for another shrink, but it was such a hassle getting this one, and he does keep the drugs coming. That's all I need anyway, really. The times I have talked to him haven't brought me any new insight, it's just been me saying, "Yeah, this and this and this," and him saying, "That's because that and that," and me thinking, "Yeah, I know. When will these appointments start to be useful?"
This blog was originally supposed to be about Caden. As soon as he can type, I'll set him up with his own blog. That should be interesting.
I'm getting my first tests scheduled for this coming Friday. Two should be fairly simple, and those are the ones I'm taking. The other two I'm going to have to crack books for. It's the kind of thing where if I was sitting down building a network, I could do it no problem. But they ask you stupid questions like, "What's on this applet, this tab, this button, this checkbox? What does that do?" Well shit, if I could just look at the system, I would know. I can't think of a situation where I would need to know that without having access to a system I could check it on.
He wanted to be held over my shoulder, but I wanted to be able to see him. So I twisted myself up for an inordinately long period of time. This, I think, is what has led to my injury. I shall suffer.
My third doctor's appointment was supposed to be yesterday. Yes, they canceled it again. That's zero out of three appointments they've kept. I would look for another shrink, but it was such a hassle getting this one, and he does keep the drugs coming. That's all I need anyway, really. The times I have talked to him haven't brought me any new insight, it's just been me saying, "Yeah, this and this and this," and him saying, "That's because that and that," and me thinking, "Yeah, I know. When will these appointments start to be useful?"
This blog was originally supposed to be about Caden. As soon as he can type, I'll set him up with his own blog. That should be interesting.
I'm getting my first tests scheduled for this coming Friday. Two should be fairly simple, and those are the ones I'm taking. The other two I'm going to have to crack books for. It's the kind of thing where if I was sitting down building a network, I could do it no problem. But they ask you stupid questions like, "What's on this applet, this tab, this button, this checkbox? What does that do?" Well shit, if I could just look at the system, I would know. I can't think of a situation where I would need to know that without having access to a system I could check it on.
Friday, May 02, 2003
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
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.
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.
Monday, April 28, 2003
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
Caden has been spitting up quite a lot lately. We're trying not to worry about it, but sometimes he's like a fountain. Everything I've read says this about spitting up: Babies spit up. It's what they do. All the time. Sometimes a lot. Don't worry about it.
The wireless internet people say that last Thursday, they realigned the tower my antenna is pointed at, and that they have to come out and realign my antenna to match. They were supposed to call me today about that, but no call yet. I should call them now, I think.
I have called them, and they'll be calling me back in 30 minutes. We shall see.
So what else is there? Bridget's plugged duct situation seems to have cleared itself up, which is good. She's getting tired, though. The waking up at all hours is catching up with her, I think. I'm not sure what I can do about that. I'll have to do some cleaning up tonight or something.
The wireless internet people say that last Thursday, they realigned the tower my antenna is pointed at, and that they have to come out and realign my antenna to match. They were supposed to call me today about that, but no call yet. I should call them now, I think.
I have called them, and they'll be calling me back in 30 minutes. We shall see.
So what else is there? Bridget's plugged duct situation seems to have cleared itself up, which is good. She's getting tired, though. The waking up at all hours is catching up with her, I think. I'm not sure what I can do about that. I'll have to do some cleaning up tonight or something.
Monday, April 21, 2003
Long Easter weekend. Bridget has been experiencing boob pain, which she is attributing to a "plugged milk duct." She's been taking all published steps to make this apparently common condition go away - but it's still there. I'm at work, and we're waiting for a call back from the boob health people at the hospital.
My wonderful, magical fixed wireless internet at home is all screwed up. For some reason, I'm getting speeds that are less than dialup. Tim, across the street, is not having this problem. About 75% of my outbound pings are fine, 20% are high (in the several hundreds of ms range) and the rest are dropped. Not sure what the deal with that is, but I'm leaning on DLS to get it taken care of. They say right on their site that they guarantee 256Kbps, so I'm expecting them to give me a refund for these slow days. Otherwise, what good is the guarantee?
They claim that the tower is saturated with traffic, and that they're working on upgrading it this week. Whatever - this came on all of a sudden, and like I said, my neighbor doesn't have any problems! I do hope that once it's all fixed that I'll be getting the screaming 10mb speeds, though.
The thing that pisses me off most is that Bridget is at home, in pain, by herself with Caden, and can't even enjoy being online.
Here's another interesting technical thing. It looks as though someone else in my neighborhood has implemented a WLAN, because I can just about connect to it from my house. And it's not even encrypted. I may have to check it out this weekend.
My wonderful, magical fixed wireless internet at home is all screwed up. For some reason, I'm getting speeds that are less than dialup. Tim, across the street, is not having this problem. About 75% of my outbound pings are fine, 20% are high (in the several hundreds of ms range) and the rest are dropped. Not sure what the deal with that is, but I'm leaning on DLS to get it taken care of. They say right on their site that they guarantee 256Kbps, so I'm expecting them to give me a refund for these slow days. Otherwise, what good is the guarantee?
They claim that the tower is saturated with traffic, and that they're working on upgrading it this week. Whatever - this came on all of a sudden, and like I said, my neighbor doesn't have any problems! I do hope that once it's all fixed that I'll be getting the screaming 10mb speeds, though.
The thing that pisses me off most is that Bridget is at home, in pain, by herself with Caden, and can't even enjoy being online.
Here's another interesting technical thing. It looks as though someone else in my neighborhood has implemented a WLAN, because I can just about connect to it from my house. And it's not even encrypted. I may have to check it out this weekend.
Friday, April 18, 2003
Yesterday, Bridget started giving the lad Mylicon. It's like baby Gas-X. He's been much more content since then.
My initial concern was, "Should we be loading the kid up withg medications so early in his career as a human being?" Apparently, the answer to that is a resounding "Yes!" In this case, the active ingredient, simethicone, has no side effects and no interactions with other medicines or foods or anything. Apparently, it's a detergent that makes one big bubbles out of many smaller ones. Bizarre; we're feeding Caden detergent.
Whatever. As long as it helps him to be less grouchy when his dad comes home from work. I already feel the hours, days, years all slipping by. Life does not afford enough time to satisfactorily enjoy being in the presence of a child.
Wait a minute. Was that me that said that?
My initial concern was, "Should we be loading the kid up withg medications so early in his career as a human being?" Apparently, the answer to that is a resounding "Yes!" In this case, the active ingredient, simethicone, has no side effects and no interactions with other medicines or foods or anything. Apparently, it's a detergent that makes one big bubbles out of many smaller ones. Bizarre; we're feeding Caden detergent.
Whatever. As long as it helps him to be less grouchy when his dad comes home from work. I already feel the hours, days, years all slipping by. Life does not afford enough time to satisfactorily enjoy being in the presence of a child.
Wait a minute. Was that me that said that?
Thursday, April 17, 2003
Last night I had a dream that Caden talked for the first time. And he didn't just say a single word, he spoke a complete sentence - something like, "I am bugging you!" and pointing at me on the emphasis. I was so proud. But, when I awoke, he was still just a wiggly piece of flesh that alternated between screaming, eating, and ejecting substances with varying degrees of blech. Oh well.
He was crying quite a lot this morning, turns out it was because he was hungry, but I didn't know that. I was trying to settle him down, and failing, of course, as I am not the one with the food. I found myself starting to get a little mad, so I handed him over to Bridget.
Bridget's lucky. Sure, she has to be with him constantly, but she's getting the parenting practice that I am not. I fear that it won't be long before I'm just another one of those bumbling dads who doesn't know what he's doing, and refers to his alone time with his child as "babysitting."
Bridget's mom got this album of pop musicians doing kids' songs. I'm going to spoil it by saying that the first track is the very best of all: Cake covering "Mahna Mahna" (from the Muppet Show). It made me laugh out loud. I listened to just that song about 12 times on the way to work, and once after I got here.
Caden is getting slightly better at getting his own finger in his mouth, and slightly better at allowing me to help him do it. I find the documentation on pacifiers to be contradictory. One sentence says that you shouldn't use a pacifier to get the kid to go to sleep, because then he'll become dependent on that. In the very next sentence, the book says that if you really must allow the kid to suck on something while going to sleep, he should be suckling the breast. I'm not sure how that won't become habit-forming.
He was crying quite a lot this morning, turns out it was because he was hungry, but I didn't know that. I was trying to settle him down, and failing, of course, as I am not the one with the food. I found myself starting to get a little mad, so I handed him over to Bridget.
Bridget's lucky. Sure, she has to be with him constantly, but she's getting the parenting practice that I am not. I fear that it won't be long before I'm just another one of those bumbling dads who doesn't know what he's doing, and refers to his alone time with his child as "babysitting."
Bridget's mom got this album of pop musicians doing kids' songs. I'm going to spoil it by saying that the first track is the very best of all: Cake covering "Mahna Mahna" (from the Muppet Show). It made me laugh out loud. I listened to just that song about 12 times on the way to work, and once after I got here.
Caden is getting slightly better at getting his own finger in his mouth, and slightly better at allowing me to help him do it. I find the documentation on pacifiers to be contradictory. One sentence says that you shouldn't use a pacifier to get the kid to go to sleep, because then he'll become dependent on that. In the very next sentence, the book says that if you really must allow the kid to suck on something while going to sleep, he should be suckling the breast. I'm not sure how that won't become habit-forming.
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
Here's something that happened a few days ago that I forgot to relate earlier. Let me give you some background.
We live in a very young neighborhood. There are three couples across the street from us who all had kids a year or two ago. We see them all outside with all the kids, being friendly with one another, laughing, playing -- all that. Before we had Caden, we'd try to wave to them, or make very small talk as we were pulling in the driveway or whatever, but it never worked. It was like they were all actively ignoring us.
We started calling them "The Baby Club." I was always very envious and pissed that we weren't in The Baby Club. When Bridget got pregnant, I was very excited that we would now have our chance, but Bridget reminded me that once our baby was born, it wouldn't be The Baby Club anymore. It would be The Toddler Club, and we could very easily be excluded from that, too.
Finally the day came where it was nice and warm outside, and Bridget suggested we go for a walk. That sounded fine, and oh! Hurry! The Baby Club is out! If we hurry, maybe we can be in The Baby Club. So we packed up quick and got out the door. The stroller was in the garage, so we went out that way, opening the garage door like a curtain rising on a Broadway show. This was going to be a decisive moment.
We pulled the stroller out onto the driveway, and all The Baby Club people looked over our way. A couple of them gave disappointed, half-hearted waves. One guy, Jeff (who I've talked to on a few occasions and is very nice), came bounding across the street with congratulations. The rest and all their kids followed soon after, even my friend Tim and his kids showed up (also from across the street, but I've known Tim forever. Another story entirely.) and before long there was a giant crowd all oohing and ahhing over Caden.
We have been welcomed, apparently, into the baby club. I don't yet know if there are secret handshakes or funny hats.
We live in a very young neighborhood. There are three couples across the street from us who all had kids a year or two ago. We see them all outside with all the kids, being friendly with one another, laughing, playing -- all that. Before we had Caden, we'd try to wave to them, or make very small talk as we were pulling in the driveway or whatever, but it never worked. It was like they were all actively ignoring us.
We started calling them "The Baby Club." I was always very envious and pissed that we weren't in The Baby Club. When Bridget got pregnant, I was very excited that we would now have our chance, but Bridget reminded me that once our baby was born, it wouldn't be The Baby Club anymore. It would be The Toddler Club, and we could very easily be excluded from that, too.
Finally the day came where it was nice and warm outside, and Bridget suggested we go for a walk. That sounded fine, and oh! Hurry! The Baby Club is out! If we hurry, maybe we can be in The Baby Club. So we packed up quick and got out the door. The stroller was in the garage, so we went out that way, opening the garage door like a curtain rising on a Broadway show. This was going to be a decisive moment.
We pulled the stroller out onto the driveway, and all The Baby Club people looked over our way. A couple of them gave disappointed, half-hearted waves. One guy, Jeff (who I've talked to on a few occasions and is very nice), came bounding across the street with congratulations. The rest and all their kids followed soon after, even my friend Tim and his kids showed up (also from across the street, but I've known Tim forever. Another story entirely.) and before long there was a giant crowd all oohing and ahhing over Caden.
We have been welcomed, apparently, into the baby club. I don't yet know if there are secret handshakes or funny hats.
I think the lack of sleep is starting to catch up to both of us. Caden seems unfazed by it, as he is able to sleep or not sleep whenever he pleases.
I'm just a little hazy this morning, and I have a headache. I actually took some Advil this morning when I got to work. I usually just tough these kinds of things out, but I think I need all the help I can get.
Here's a non-baby related story. Yesterday, between work and class, I stopped at McDonald's. I'm in the drive thru, and the lady behind me bumps my car. Not real hard, and I'm thinking we'll just stop after we get out of the line and say forget about it. So I park and wait, and the lady ... drives away! I go after her, as she's going pretty much the same way as I was going to go. When I finally catch up to her, she first claims that she didn't hit me at all, then that she was only behind me in the drive thru, then that she didn't have to stop because she didn't cause any damage. Fact is, there is a little scratch in my bumper now. (Not one that I care about, but if I didn't have to go to class I would have made a huge deal about it at this point.) So I yell at her for a while and then head off to class. A very anti-climactic ending, I know, but there you have it.
Bridget was kind of grouchy this morning, too. She's been going running around in the world for the last couple of days, which I'm sure has tired her out. I can't blame her; the weather has been phenomenal. But I told her to make sure to get a nap today. I hope she does.
I tried to nap in the car after I got to class yesterday, but I couldn't seem to pull it off. My seat doesn't recline in such a fashion that would make it a comfy bed. I'll have to clear out the back seat so I can stretch out there.
I'm just a little hazy this morning, and I have a headache. I actually took some Advil this morning when I got to work. I usually just tough these kinds of things out, but I think I need all the help I can get.
Here's a non-baby related story. Yesterday, between work and class, I stopped at McDonald's. I'm in the drive thru, and the lady behind me bumps my car. Not real hard, and I'm thinking we'll just stop after we get out of the line and say forget about it. So I park and wait, and the lady ... drives away! I go after her, as she's going pretty much the same way as I was going to go. When I finally catch up to her, she first claims that she didn't hit me at all, then that she was only behind me in the drive thru, then that she didn't have to stop because she didn't cause any damage. Fact is, there is a little scratch in my bumper now. (Not one that I care about, but if I didn't have to go to class I would have made a huge deal about it at this point.) So I yell at her for a while and then head off to class. A very anti-climactic ending, I know, but there you have it.
Bridget was kind of grouchy this morning, too. She's been going running around in the world for the last couple of days, which I'm sure has tired her out. I can't blame her; the weather has been phenomenal. But I told her to make sure to get a nap today. I hope she does.
I tried to nap in the car after I got to class yesterday, but I couldn't seem to pull it off. My seat doesn't recline in such a fashion that would make it a comfy bed. I'll have to clear out the back seat so I can stretch out there.
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
This morning I woke up at 4. Caden was just waking up cranky and hungry, and Bridget fed him. I changed him and decided to just stay up. It's 9 now and I'm starting to think that was not such a good idea. I have class tonight and won't be home until 10:30 PM. I'll have to try and sneak a nap in somewhere.
He's getting closer all the time to being able to suck his thumb and/or fingers. We would enjoy this immensely, as he has a giant oral fixation. Sometimes a pacifier is all that will calm hiim down, but he'll drop it out of his mouth after just a couple of minutes and start wailing. His quiet relaxing time would normally be the time that mom and dad would get other things done, like showering and going to the bathroom, but his inability to retrieve and replace his fallen pacifier means that we must attend to him whether he's crying or not.
Last night, just when we were all laying down to sleep, he started with his nightly nose noises. Babies tend to have some nasal congestion, generally worse at night. Then, suddenly, he starts making that loud, short inhale noise that an adult would make if they could, say, barely inhale at all. I picked him up and turned him over and gave him a couple of whacks on the back, and it was like nothing was ever wrong. But for a couple of minutes we were both in a state of complete panic.
I know you're thinking that we were overreacting, because all new parents are always worried about whether their newborn is still breathing. This was different; he was making the universal "I can't breathe" noise. I think I'm just going to try and forget about that whole incident before I start worrying again.
So then I got up to change the diaper, and he started crying from being the teensiest bit hungry one hour before feeding time. I brought him back to the bedroom, and Bridget sang him to sleep. It was lovely.
Also, I got choked up on the way in this morning listening to Harry Connick Jr. singing "I Got a Golden Ticket." Don't tell anyone.
He's getting closer all the time to being able to suck his thumb and/or fingers. We would enjoy this immensely, as he has a giant oral fixation. Sometimes a pacifier is all that will calm hiim down, but he'll drop it out of his mouth after just a couple of minutes and start wailing. His quiet relaxing time would normally be the time that mom and dad would get other things done, like showering and going to the bathroom, but his inability to retrieve and replace his fallen pacifier means that we must attend to him whether he's crying or not.
Last night, just when we were all laying down to sleep, he started with his nightly nose noises. Babies tend to have some nasal congestion, generally worse at night. Then, suddenly, he starts making that loud, short inhale noise that an adult would make if they could, say, barely inhale at all. I picked him up and turned him over and gave him a couple of whacks on the back, and it was like nothing was ever wrong. But for a couple of minutes we were both in a state of complete panic.
I know you're thinking that we were overreacting, because all new parents are always worried about whether their newborn is still breathing. This was different; he was making the universal "I can't breathe" noise. I think I'm just going to try and forget about that whole incident before I start worrying again.
So then I got up to change the diaper, and he started crying from being the teensiest bit hungry one hour before feeding time. I brought him back to the bedroom, and Bridget sang him to sleep. It was lovely.
Also, I got choked up on the way in this morning listening to Harry Connick Jr. singing "I Got a Golden Ticket." Don't tell anyone.
Monday, April 14, 2003
It's been a long couple of weeks, all of it starting on March 26th with the arrival of Caden, my son.
Here are the things I've learned so far:
It is impossible for a man, in the delivery room, at the moment he sees the head, not to say, "I can see the head!" It's on the same level as "my seat is saved" or "I saw her first" or "I got next." It's like putting your quarters up on the header sign of the video game to claim the next play. The father is laying claim to his offspring by "calling head." I call head; that's mine.
Babies have excruciatingly stinky farts for the first few days of life. These farts are not only industrial strength in odor; they are also at least as loud as any adult fart. It's truly mind-boggling.
I've surprised everyone, including myself, with my skill at fatherhood. I've never been real big on babies or children, never wanted to hold babies or interact with children on any occasion. But I insisted to Bridget (the Mom) that it would all be different when it was my own kid. Thank god I was right.
Picking up, holding, chatting with, changing, dressing - all of it has come very naturally. I'm the diaper changing king. I'm able to change a diaper in record time while only 25% awake at 3 AM. I even took pleasure in talking to a friend's six year old once. I'm not sure that other people's kids will always be interesting to me, but they've got their own parents usually.
So I'm back at work today, and it took me until about 2 PM to get caught up. I've still got some balls in the air, but I suppose I'm going to have to think of something to do besides reading OddTodd and memepool. I think that may come easier, though, because I have a new outlook on everything.
All those things that used to matter so damned much just don't anymore. The things that I would get myself all worked up about, like all the office politics and not having a decent salary and hoping my crappy old car doesn't fall all apart one day - whatever. I feel like whatever comes along, I'm ready to deal with it at the appropriate time and without getting all wiggy about it. Whatever happens, when I get home I'll be able to hang out with my family. My family.
So far, Caden has been easily consolable. Yes, he cries sometimes, but only over a very small variety of things. His crying means he's hungry, he wants to suck on something, or he wants to be picked up. He doesn't even cry about diapers. He'll lay around in his own wastes for days without making a sound as long as we keep him fed and frequently lifted.
Yeah, speaking of being fed, we take him in for his first checkup a couple weeks ago. He had lost a few ounces, nothing major, totally normal. Three days later, he'd only gained half an ounce, and the doctor was all, "You're going to have to supplement with formula." My wife took this very badly, as she's been nursing him and it was like a personal attack. We go home and read a bunch of books and figure out that the doctor was way way way overstating what was going on. Bridget became the nursing Nazi.
So much so that by the time another two weeks had passed, he was feeding about every hour or so, and spitting up a lot. We take him to the doctor again and find out that he now weighs ten pounds. The other doctor gives us a bunch of crap about overfeeding him.
I used to think that doctors know things that I don't. That they can tell things from very subtle bits of information that I would think fell within normal tolerances. Now I know that they don't. If I think my kid is doing just fine, he damn well is. That third eye right in the middle of his forehead? Doesn't seem to be bothering him, so leave it there.
I should say at this point (in case Bridget ever reads this), that Caden is empirically the cutest newborn in the history of humankind. I read that on TV they use two and three month olds to represent newborns, because newborns always look all screwed up. Their eyes are all goofy and their heads are out of round. They've got weird flaky skin and bruises and birthmarks. Not my boy. We should get him an agent. At 6 days old he looked perfect. You know how they've calculated facial bone structure to determine what would be the most attractive face in an adult? They don't have to do that for babies; they can just look at mine.
Here are the things I've learned so far:
It is impossible for a man, in the delivery room, at the moment he sees the head, not to say, "I can see the head!" It's on the same level as "my seat is saved" or "I saw her first" or "I got next." It's like putting your quarters up on the header sign of the video game to claim the next play. The father is laying claim to his offspring by "calling head." I call head; that's mine.
Babies have excruciatingly stinky farts for the first few days of life. These farts are not only industrial strength in odor; they are also at least as loud as any adult fart. It's truly mind-boggling.
I've surprised everyone, including myself, with my skill at fatherhood. I've never been real big on babies or children, never wanted to hold babies or interact with children on any occasion. But I insisted to Bridget (the Mom) that it would all be different when it was my own kid. Thank god I was right.
Picking up, holding, chatting with, changing, dressing - all of it has come very naturally. I'm the diaper changing king. I'm able to change a diaper in record time while only 25% awake at 3 AM. I even took pleasure in talking to a friend's six year old once. I'm not sure that other people's kids will always be interesting to me, but they've got their own parents usually.
So I'm back at work today, and it took me until about 2 PM to get caught up. I've still got some balls in the air, but I suppose I'm going to have to think of something to do besides reading OddTodd and memepool. I think that may come easier, though, because I have a new outlook on everything.
All those things that used to matter so damned much just don't anymore. The things that I would get myself all worked up about, like all the office politics and not having a decent salary and hoping my crappy old car doesn't fall all apart one day - whatever. I feel like whatever comes along, I'm ready to deal with it at the appropriate time and without getting all wiggy about it. Whatever happens, when I get home I'll be able to hang out with my family. My family.
So far, Caden has been easily consolable. Yes, he cries sometimes, but only over a very small variety of things. His crying means he's hungry, he wants to suck on something, or he wants to be picked up. He doesn't even cry about diapers. He'll lay around in his own wastes for days without making a sound as long as we keep him fed and frequently lifted.
Yeah, speaking of being fed, we take him in for his first checkup a couple weeks ago. He had lost a few ounces, nothing major, totally normal. Three days later, he'd only gained half an ounce, and the doctor was all, "You're going to have to supplement with formula." My wife took this very badly, as she's been nursing him and it was like a personal attack. We go home and read a bunch of books and figure out that the doctor was way way way overstating what was going on. Bridget became the nursing Nazi.
So much so that by the time another two weeks had passed, he was feeding about every hour or so, and spitting up a lot. We take him to the doctor again and find out that he now weighs ten pounds. The other doctor gives us a bunch of crap about overfeeding him.
I used to think that doctors know things that I don't. That they can tell things from very subtle bits of information that I would think fell within normal tolerances. Now I know that they don't. If I think my kid is doing just fine, he damn well is. That third eye right in the middle of his forehead? Doesn't seem to be bothering him, so leave it there.
I should say at this point (in case Bridget ever reads this), that Caden is empirically the cutest newborn in the history of humankind. I read that on TV they use two and three month olds to represent newborns, because newborns always look all screwed up. Their eyes are all goofy and their heads are out of round. They've got weird flaky skin and bruises and birthmarks. Not my boy. We should get him an agent. At 6 days old he looked perfect. You know how they've calculated facial bone structure to determine what would be the most attractive face in an adult? They don't have to do that for babies; they can just look at mine.
Monday, March 24, 2003
No baby yet, but the weekend was good. Restful, and I needed it. We got a lot of cleaning done, too, and the basement is prepared for the cats to live in.
I've gotten to the point at work where I am hesitant to start any new projects, because the phone call could come at any moment and I would have to run out the door, leaving things unfinished. I don't need work hanging over my head while I'm off for two weeks.
I've gotten to the point at work where I am hesitant to start any new projects, because the phone call could come at any moment and I would have to run out the door, leaving things unfinished. I don't need work hanging over my head while I'm off for two weeks.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
My job: I'm a help desk manager. Interesting, since my company has no help desk. So it's my job to develop one, right? Would be, except that my title apparently carries no authority. I can't actually make any decisions or lay down any laws. So here I sit, playing NetHack and building machines and answering level one support calls. Whatever.
I'm taking an MCSE class, which the company is paying for, and which I did not have to sign any "I promise not to quit for n months" crap. So as soon as I get the cert, I'm finished.
I'm taking an MCSE class, which the company is paying for, and which I did not have to sign any "I promise not to quit for n months" crap. So as soon as I get the cert, I'm finished.
Monday, March 10, 2003
People have told me I should do one of these. I am 32, employed, and about to have a son. Seems like a good time to do it.
I've also recently gotten back on Celexa, an antidepressant in the same family as Prozac. I was on it for a little while a couple of years ago and it worked wonders for me. I've been managing ickiness for most of my life.
I've also recently gotten back on Celexa, an antidepressant in the same family as Prozac. I was on it for a little while a couple of years ago and it worked wonders for me. I've been managing ickiness for most of my life.
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