Diaper Wrath

Sooo, we dropped Mia off at daycare today without a hint of diaper rash. We picked her up and she was bright red and cried at the first touch on her bottom. Me thinks we have a problem. We are going to have a long talk with daycare tomorrow because SOMETHING isn't going right. If that doesn't work.....we may have to resort to head locks and wedgies for everyone.

85 pages

One of my goals for Amelia is that she has the strength and courage to chase her dreams. As a father, it is my responsibility to ensure that she absolutely feels as though she is limitless. The fantastic hypocrisy of this has recently dawned on me. I, by all accounts, am a numbers guy. I always have been. My education is rooted in numbers. I feed my family thanks to them. However, it is words that have become a growing passion for me. I have always had an interest in writing and yet this blog is really the first effort I have made...and that is using the word effort in its broadest sense. I have always been able to mute any temptations I have had to write on a larger scale by burying my head in what I presumed to be the realities of the writing world. Why would anyone want to read what I write? How could I ever get anyone to read it? How can I find time to write with my busy schedule? Being a writer is for a privileged few, isn't it? At the end of the day, all of these "realities" are certainly founded in some truth. However, so is the fact that every movie you have ever seen, every television show you can't wait to watch, and every book you are unable to put down was written by someone. They may have stemmed from a waking epiphany at 3 a.m.. perhaps a single inspiration that couldn't find a journal fast enough, or possibly even a long conversation amongst friends. However, they all came from somebody's mind - a person not entirely different from you or I. I have no delusions. I know there are brilliantly gifted writers who are begging to be discovered. I'm sure the odds of becoming a decently paid writer are roughly the same as hitting the lottery. But, I also know those odds go to zero if you never try. Are those odds good enough for me to quit my day job? Don't worry, I'm not that crazy. However, that 1 in a million chance was enough for me to decide to enter a writing contest to test my merits. Will I win? Not likely. Will I do well enough to gain any major recognition? I'm certainly not counting on it. But, what I will do is take my best shot at my ultimate dream. I will create something from scratch that is uniquely molded from my mind. And most importantly, I will serve as an example to Mia to chase your dreams no matter how far reaching they may seem.

Only a mom

I overheard Meggan say this to Amelia this afternoon...it's a quote only a mom (particularly after weeks of stomach problems) could make...

"Your poop really is looking fantastic today!"

As a parent, there are just some things I can't get used to.

Where's my baby?!?

I read lots and lots and lots of things on the Internet. Of these things, I believe very little. Tonight, we were witness to one of the stories we had read, but I was skeptical about. As we do every night, we put Amelia to bed in her crib. Shortly afterward, Meggan turned on the baby monitor to check on her. The only problem was...there was no baby in the crib. In fact, after a moment of confusion, she realized that it wasn't even our crib! Our video receiver was picking up a signal from someone else's monitor. Uhhhh.....Creeepy. Now, the hunt is on to figure out which house I am peering into and frankly, which neighbor may be peering into mine. I end with a quote by Mr. Horse from the Ren and Stimpy Show - "No, Sir. I don't like it!"

Is it hot in here?

During the 20 minute drive back to work after meeting Meggan for lunch the air conditioner in my SUV decided to go out. Here is a sample of my inner monologue from the ride...

"Wow, it's warm today. I'd better crank up the A/C."
"Geez, it's so hot in the car today that the air feels warm."
"I'd better roll down the windows to let out the warm air."
"What was that noise?!?"
"Son of a... I rolled Mia's sun shade down into the door again"
"Okay, it's been 5 minutes and this air still feels like Sophie's breathing on me."
"It will be okay as long as I keep moving and get good air circulation from outside.'
"Red light. that...is....not...good."
"At least I'm wearing a lightweight white shirt"
"I'd better blast the air. Warm moving air is better than sitting here baking"
"Man, is it blowing the air directly off the engine?!?"
"Starting to sweat...not wanting to show up at work drenched"
"Ahhh, green light. Thank you, God."
"Steady moving is really making a diff...are you kidding me, another red light?!?"
"Lord, when did Charlotte start feeling like Haiti?"
"We are at a Code Red Emergency on the sweat level"
"So much for that lightweight shirt theory...now starting to sweat through....is that a nipple?"
"Sweet Jesus, the air is working again!!!"
"Oh, air conditioner, I will never again take you for granted."
"NO NO NO NO, don't start with the hot air again! You filthy, little tease, I'm trading you in the first chance I get"
"So, this is how Amelia feels when she's sweat-stuck to her car seat."
"Good news: the wind from the window has dried most of the sweat on my head."
"Bad news: the wind from the window has blown my hair into a short Flock of Seagulls look."
"That is definitely my nipple."
"Which will happen first...will I make it to work or will I catch on fire?"
"Which would be worse?"
"Only one more light to go...time to cross my fing.."
"Red. Again. what the hell?!? Is this some sort of karmic joke? Am I getting Punk'd?"
"I never thought I'd want to get to my office so badly."
"Finally in the parking lot.... and there comes the cold air again. Now that is funny."

So, I sat in the car until the cold air dried up my shirt, blew my hair back to normal, and put me in a much better mood. Then, I went into the office and realized the car ride wasn't that bad after all.

M.J.

So, I will come out of my "blog hibernation" to say, wow, Michael Jackson is gone. I feel like such a nerd, but I still can't believe it. Now, don't get confused, I am not one of those people who will get a sticker on my Corolla that says "In Memory of Michael 1958-2009" and I would not have been the girl crying and fainting at a concert. I'm sad because music is one of the things, in my opinion, that spark the fondest memories. I have several songs that take me back to a certain time, even a particular day, and all of the memories called up are good ones.

Thriller is the song that stands out most to me. I can remember my dad playing the album (yep the actual vinyl record) and how Vincent Price's dialogue at the end scared the crap out of me. I could listen to him talking but once he started that creepy laugh, I just couldn't stand it. That laugh be creepy! (That was for you RB)

I can't help but feel a little longing for days passed spent at the lake listening to "Pour some sugar on me" or trying to dance with my cousins to "Cold Hearted Snake" or getting a makeup lesson from an older kid at my babysitters while "How will I know" from Whitney Houston played on the boombox! Oh, how I wish more of my days were spent at the lake or that there were rights of passage like wearing makeup that were still out there for me. This is where Amelia comes in. I can't wait to get to relive my youth in a way through her. I wonder who will be her Michael Jackson. Probably Hannah Montana. One day she might be blogging, likely from Mars and via telepathy, saying "OMG, Hannah Montana has died!"

She does have her own way of remembering Michael though. As we were putting her clothes on this morning, P.Y.T. (Pretty Young Thing) was playing on the radio, and she said "Hey Mama, can I have a bumper sticker on my car seat that says P.Y.T.?" I would totally do that if I could find one.

Change is a comin'

When Meggan started this blog a few months ago, we pretty much assumed we would be just about the only ones to read it. Perhaps, if we bribed them, we could get a family member or two to check in on it occasionally. However, it has had success well beyond our expectations. Our readership has soared to ...wait for it... tens and tens of people. With this mind boggling readership, we feel it is time to make a slight divergence from posting only about Amelia and babies. Hopefully, this will not upset any of our biggest fans - especially the roughly 3 of them that aren't blood relation. There will still be plenty of Mia talk as she is the primary focus of both of our lives. However, instead of 3 posts a week about explosive diapers, we may only have 1 or 2. My hope for this change is twofold. First, it will give me an opportunity to speak to other topics, musings, and ideals. Additionally, I hope it will drag Meggan out of her current blog hibernation. And with a little luck, you guys may even enjoy the change.

When is it too early?

Meggan and I have recently been thrust into position to make possibly our first "major" decision regarding Amelia's education. When Meggan was pregnant we were smacked in the face with the harsh reality that getting into a daycare is not as easy as it seems. You can't simply pick one, sign up, and begin going. We began our search virtually as soon as we found out about the pregnancy. Even with that kind of head start, there were several choices that had no spots for us. Well, a spot opened up at our first choice this week. Mia has already been going to our second choice for a month and seems to like it which muddies the waters. We have no issues with her current school, but we could save money at the other school and it does provide a few extras educationally. Meggan and I found ourselves having long discussions over the merits of these two academies....this one is closer to home, that one is cheaper, this one has a more open layout, that one teaches sign language,etc. I have to admit, at some point, I began to feel a little ridiculous. I never went to daycare. I am a product of a public school system so uninspiring and impersonal that despite the fact that I was an excellent student by any measure(one would not classify my college "success" the same way :) ), I cannot remember a single conversation had with teachers, counselors, or administrators regarding college. Meggan was a great student at a small private school that was basically the opposite of where I attended. Yet, we both ended up at a very good university and as luck would have it, both have good jobs. Given the fact that our disparate educational backgrounds led us to the same ending, I have to wonder at what point does a child's path begin to take shape? Of course, I hope Mia has to make the tough decision of Harvard or Yale. And, naturally, I think this can be helped by a good k-12 education. But, can a choice of preschools have an impact?!? I guess the long and short of it is I am having a hard time believing a decision made for a 4 month old will have any ramifications on her future academic success. I suppose time will tell.

It's in her nature

Sophie found it in her heart to find time to eat ANOTHER baby bottle. In unrelated, but just as shocking news, the sun rose in the East and set in the West, Mia pooped her pants, and going to work sucked. When I asked Soph why she kept insisting on eating Amelia's things even though she knew it would get her in trouble, she told me to read "The Scorpion and the Frog" and I would understand.

Cry it out

Tonight, we are going to really put a focus on a new attempt to teach Amelia to put herself to sleep. Until recently, we have had a pretty standard bedtime ritual... a nice warm bath, a delicious bottle of the finest Similac, and softly rocking to a soothing compilation of slow jams. This has worked great to put her to sleep. Unfortunately, when she thinks it would be a good idea to wake up around 3a.m., she does not know how to go BACK to sleep. She's likely thinking she could go for a snack and/or trying to figure out who the hell turned off her Jack Johnson. So, we are adapting a new philosophy of putting her to bed in a manner that she can recreate in order to put herself back down - no rocking chair, no music, no frills. She didn't put up much of a fight tonight despite sleeping 6 hours at daycare (which deserves its own post. Are we really paying the equivalent of a second mortgage for her to sleep 75% of the day? How about a little mental stimulation, please?!?). I am curious to see how this philosophy translates over to the middle of the night in the short run. I think eventually she will learn and it will be great. However, I am expecting many struggles in a battle of wills for the first few nights. How long will she cry before giving up? How long can we manage to listen to her without it breaking our hearts and us giving in? My initial guess is that she can go mcuh longer than we can.

Father's Day Gift

I am not, nor do I ever pretend to be, the toughest guy around. Thus, it came as no surprise to me that I was very touched tonight by something Amelia (perhaps with a little help from her teachers) did at school. I received my first ever Father's Day Gift. It was a picture of Mia in a frame that says "My heart belongs to my Dad". As you can guess, it wasn't the gift itself that got to me. It was the underlying sentiment of the saying. Until recently, Mia has mostly been living without real interaction and understanding of the world around her. In the past few weeks, she has really started to become present. When she looks at you, there is a purpose inside those eyes. When you enter the room, she takes notice. Her smiles have become reactionary instead of reflexive. It has truly been an amazing transformation. So, today as I looked at that photo and thought about what it meant, I was quite taken aback. This precious little baby's heart does belong to me(and I suppose to Meggan a little as well :)). I am the person in her world that she will look to for security, for inspiration, and for unconditional love. Frankly, having barely known my own father, I'm not sure what to do with such a ferocious responsibility. So, I am going to follow the best course of action I know of - to have faith that God has entrusted me with this little girl because He believes in me and to know, either secretly or not so secretly, that truth be told.... it is my heart that belongs to Mia, not the other way around.

Operation Spoon Feeding

Tonight was the first day of Operation Spoon Feeding. Mia is growing increasingly hungry and formula just isn't cutting it. So, her mother and I decided to experiment with spoon feeding her a bit of rice cereal. Results of this first attempt? Massive Failure. I'm not sure what exactly Amelia thought the function of the spoon was, but in no way did it occur to her that this was something she should eat. She focused so hard on it that she kept going cross-eyed. Then, as quickly as we could put the spoon in her mouth, she began spitting out cereal. If I had to guess, I'd say we got a total of 3 mashed up grains of rice swallowed. The other 99.9% were all over her chin, bib, and clothes. There was one silver lining to all of this. She did seem to enjoy herself during this trial run. So, hey, at least we have that going for us. We will carry that momentum into Phase II of the experiment and try to give her a taste of peas. Wish us luck!

Growing Pains

Watching Amelia's daily growth is truly an amazing luxury in my life. She has grown from a tiny newborn that needed us for everything into chubby baby girl that only needs us for 99% of everything. So, maybe she isn't exactly doing her own laundry yet, but she is starting to do some minor developmental things. This has actually become a blessing and a curse. For example, recently, she has become very adept at using her hands. This is wonderful because there really isn't a better feeling than when she grabs hold of your finger while you are snuggling her. However, this same motor skill allows her to repeatedly pull her pacifier out of her mouth and then subsequently scream about this dire situation. Also, she has begun speaking, mostly baby talk with what I believe to be a little Spanish thrown in for effect. So, while it is hilarious when she just keeps talking and talking as if she is holding court, it stops being funny when she decides to do it at 4 a.m. - for an hour. And this brings me to her last trick...she has finally grown to a point where she doesn't like to get swaddled to go to sleep. This, I assure you, pleases all of the grandparents as they all feel swaddle blankets are straight-jackets' evil stepsisters. It actually makes me happy as well because she does look more comfortable and relaxed while sleeping. Yet, as you may have guessed, there is a downside. Now that her arms, also known as weapons of mass destruction, are free, she continually scratches her face in her sleep. She goes to bed with a cherubic angel face and wakes up looking like she spent the night on a steel wool pillow. This concerns me for a few reasons. First, I love her and don't want her to get hurt. Second, the fact that we can clip her fingernails in the afternoon and they have already grown enough for them to scratch her by that night is creepy to me. Lastly, and maybe most importantly, I am concerned about my standing with the Department of Child Services. Let's be honest, after I dropped her on her head, they probably put me on a short list of suspected abusers. The last thing I need is her showing up to daycare looking like she just fought a bobcat. So tonight, to combat these problems, Mia is stylishly sleeping with two long, red socks stretched over each arm. They may not look the best, but if they keep her from pulling out her pacifier, waking up to chat, or gouging at her face all night, they are going to become bedtime staples.

Einstein? Really?

So, we have started watching the Baby Einstein videos. I suppose they are attempting to mimic what it would be like if you were playing with your baby. Perhaps, they are showing a montage of items that stimulate babies' brains. All I know is when I think of Einstein, I think brilliance. When I think Baby Einstein, I think "this must be what a bad acid trip is like". It literally goes from clowns, to kaleidoscopes, to toy dogs doing back flips. It is even creepier than those little puppets they had on Mr. Rodger's Neighborhood. As long as Mia likes it(she can't get enough), we will continue to watch it. But, at the first sign of boredom by her....I'm sending that freaky mind trip to the DVD store in the sky.

Sometimes I hate math

On my way home from work tonight I began thinking about how little time I get with Amelia. This led me to thinking about the immense amount of time we have tied up in our daily lives. So, when I got home I did a bit of rough math....

...over the course of the average person's life, they will be at work or sleeping approximately 37 years - basically half their lives. Drink that in. Now, go cry.

No place like home?

In my parents' generation, families stayed together. In the small towns they came from, "together" meant several generations living on the same street, if not the same house. However, it is not uncommon for today's American family to be scattered from coast to coast. While I have never lived outside the Southeast, it has been over a decade since I have lived in the same state as my loved ones. With the addition of Amelia, this has become a more pressing issue. It seems as though Meggan and I are in a struggle, in the broadest sense, of prioritizing where we want to live personally vs. the available living options near family. It's not a simple story as we are not a couple who met, fell in love, and moved away from the hometown we grew up in. That's easily solved - move back. In our case, we met while living in a city that was foreign to both our families and have subsequently moved to another city with no relatives. So, without getting into the fact that Meggan and I have jobs, a house, a future school for Amelia, etc. yet there is zero contemplation from anyone to consider moving here to be close to us, let's just say for us, moving near family will require a major sacrifice of one kind or another. There are very few cities that are up for debate due to our careers - and none of them are cities we would consider moving to if family was not in the picture. Our families don't live in the same city, so there is the obvious dilemma of the zero sum game...moving closer to one means moving further from the other. Ultimately, we would love to live near both families, near the beach, in a large city with career opportunities and is a good place to raise Mia. Unfortunately, this is going to take the formation of a new city in the South or an even bigger miracle - total relocation of us and our families. Since neither of these seem likely, I'm not sure what we are going to do with the mounting desire to live near relatives and the stress related to the hurdles of that prospect. In the meantime, I'll just keep hoping we win the lottery so we can live here, there, and everywhere.

Another one bites the dust

Sophie has been at it again. The older Mia gets, the worse Sophie acts. She is still incredibly sweet and loving with the baby...but, once we leave the house, she turns into Cujo and eats anything she can. Today's unfortunate victim - a tube of ChapStick.

I'm not sure if dogs get dry lips, but Sophie should have soft, supple, kissable lips for weeks to come. Thank goodness.

MISSING

MISSING: - Founder and Co-blogger to Barberbabble.

Meggan created this blog, in part, to help us chronicle Mia's early life. I decided to post a few times just to be a part of it. I have focused more on fatherly posts and some other random ideas than Amelia in particular and I would imagine it will continue that way, if not diverge further. However, Meggan has taken another approach....she stopped blogging! I believe she has 3 posts in the last 3 months. That is hardly enough to entertain our mass following of roughly 2 readers. If any of you see Meggan, please give her a hard time about not showing up on the blog she started. After all, we don't want Amelia to look back on this blog and only see one side of the story.