At the risk of sounding sexist, have you ever heard of the “Pregnancy Stupids”? A woman Andrea works with introduced her to the term, and it denotes the general loss of focus and forgetfulness that comes with the third trimester. I honestly can't call this idea sexist, because I've got it too. Note the present tense; nearly four weeks after the birth, we're still losing our ever-loving minds.
Last night (or maybe the night before. As I've hinted at, you can't expect much from me right now.), as we were getting our shit together to go to bed, I asked “Where's the dog?” She didn't know. He was looking in through the patio door. She didn't remember letting him out, and neither did I. In hind sight, I think it was me.
Then I found the fridge door sitting open. Andrea had moved onto another chore, forgetting whatever she'd been doing in the kitchen.
And the list goes on. Our dear child is in the care of a couple of Witless Wonders (add that to your Road Rage vocabulary, if you care to). Naturally, we're blaming the sleep-deprivation. But I also must consider the massive shock to our mental systems as well. All of a sudden, we have to stop playing Grown Up, and actually become responsible adults! For the time being, I can't sit up sucking-back Wobbly Pops and playing computer games. If I'm not working the next day, I'm responsible for overnight feedings. That, and our present co-sleeping situation makes it unwise to go to bed polluted.
This brings to mind something I read in Marilyn Ferguson's “The Aquarian Conspiracy,” a book about how New Age thought sounded a lot like the Quantum sciences. It was first published in 1980 – WAY ahead of The Secret. The book introduced me to Prigogine's Theorem, which states that when something new is introduced into an existing system, it will either be absorbed into the system, or will rattle the system enough that it must re-organize itself into a more complex state. To illustrate, Andrea & I are The System. If I make a new friend, he'll stop by for burgers & beer every now and then, but our lives remain pretty much the same. The arrival of Callie, however, has re-arranged our schedules, our priorities, our finances, etc, etc.
And this is why, I believe, we're losing the dog and mishandling large appliances. A Nobel Laureate decreed it!
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Thanksgiving, and all the childishness you've come to expect here!
Well, I'm just having the worst time trying to get our Thanksgiving pics up on the Blog, but just as soon as I can, I'll be eager to show-off my Princess. The Holiday, as expected was great; one dinner with my family, and one with Andrea's, with a day in-between to let the first dinner settle a little. And have we had enough? Hell, no; we happily chowed on left-overs last night! We've also got the better part of a large pumpkin pie in the fridge – are we up to it? Lord knows I'm a force to be reconed with when pastries are to be dealt with, so I'm sure it won't go to waste.
Naturally, it was great to gather with family, catch-up with everyone, show-off the Main Attraction (my side hasn't had a baby in nine years, and all the babies on Andrea's side are on the West Coast). Callie must have been excited to be there as well; she promptly voided herself, in all it's green, curdy glory! About 1 ½ hours later, she did it again, and I had to taunt Papa and his near-phobia of diapers (I swear, “I don't do diapers” has replaced “Hello” for most of this year!). After the second Pistachio-cottage-grease melt-down, I took the clean diaper, unfolded it, and went into the living room, straight to Papa, and said “Dude, you think I'm kidding about the green...Whoops!” and up-ended the faux-mess on him. And good times were had by all. My sister (Jody, AKA mygirls26) brought her boyfriend, Brad. I won't lay on the drama by calling him “permanently scarred” from the evening, but he was quite entertained, and probably expanded his Fart Joke Repertoire. Which brings me to mom's Turnip Casserole, which I swear, is better than it sounds! I know, nothing says 'Diet of Desperation' like Turnips, but Mom whips-up quite the loveliness from them! Unfortunately, I had to work with the public the next day. My courteous restraint damn-near turned my 'Inny' into an 'Outy,' such was my abdominal pressure!
Now, this is totally off-topic, but when I was up for Callie's 6AM feed, I saw the most disturbing commercial. It started with B Obama clips, and I thought there were more Collectors Coins for sale. We should be so lucky, even the sticker-on-a-quarter scam would have been preferable to the – wait for it – Chia Obama. No shit, now you too can grow sprouts on an Obama Bust. My dear friends to the South, I am truly sorry. I'm almost suspicious of a Republican plot: If you can't beat him, strip him of all credibility!
Naturally, it was great to gather with family, catch-up with everyone, show-off the Main Attraction (my side hasn't had a baby in nine years, and all the babies on Andrea's side are on the West Coast). Callie must have been excited to be there as well; she promptly voided herself, in all it's green, curdy glory! About 1 ½ hours later, she did it again, and I had to taunt Papa and his near-phobia of diapers (I swear, “I don't do diapers” has replaced “Hello” for most of this year!). After the second Pistachio-cottage-grease melt-down, I took the clean diaper, unfolded it, and went into the living room, straight to Papa, and said “Dude, you think I'm kidding about the green...Whoops!” and up-ended the faux-mess on him. And good times were had by all. My sister (Jody, AKA mygirls26) brought her boyfriend, Brad. I won't lay on the drama by calling him “permanently scarred” from the evening, but he was quite entertained, and probably expanded his Fart Joke Repertoire. Which brings me to mom's Turnip Casserole, which I swear, is better than it sounds! I know, nothing says 'Diet of Desperation' like Turnips, but Mom whips-up quite the loveliness from them! Unfortunately, I had to work with the public the next day. My courteous restraint damn-near turned my 'Inny' into an 'Outy,' such was my abdominal pressure!
Now, this is totally off-topic, but when I was up for Callie's 6AM feed, I saw the most disturbing commercial. It started with B Obama clips, and I thought there were more Collectors Coins for sale. We should be so lucky, even the sticker-on-a-quarter scam would have been preferable to the – wait for it – Chia Obama. No shit, now you too can grow sprouts on an Obama Bust. My dear friends to the South, I am truly sorry. I'm almost suspicious of a Republican plot: If you can't beat him, strip him of all credibility!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Callie's First Holiday
Opportunity Knocks, our friend Michelle is over again, so I get to write, WITH BOTH HANDS! If you've seen my responses on the Blogs of others, they're usually written with one hand, as I've got Callie on the other arm, so it kinda looks like a big, pink spider is dancing on my keyboard!
Speak of the Angel, Callie is well. Her umbilical stump fell off last week, so we can do full-immersion baths now, and she loves it! She hated the sponge baths, screaming herself hoarse, and turning the color of a raspberry! We got video of it, it's really funny! If I can ever get around to transferring it from camcorder to computer, I'll post it!
We've got our Thanksgiving this weekend (up here in the Great White North), so it will be her first family holiday. Naturally, we had to get her an outfit, because it mixes two of Andrea's passions: shopping, and playing dress-up with our new little girl! Not that we've got a shortage of clothes from friends & family, but they're all huge on her! Our kid will be damn well-dressed from 5-9 months old! Thanksgiving may be my favorite holiday; I love autumn, I love feasting, throw in a long weekend, and good times are had by all! Not to mention how important it is to have a general sense of gratitude; something that Consumer Culture has driven out of us. But I don't understand why they don't celebrate Thanksgiving is England; they'll celebrate the time a terrorist tried to blow up their parliament (Guy Falks), but putting all their Religious Fundamentalists on boats and shipping them off doesn't seem as note-worthy. Go figure.
A couple days ago, I posted about how much I help out with Callie, and got some great responses! When I ask around (and from what I've read on several other Blogs), it seems we're in the middle of a changing-of-the-guard. Men are becoming more involved, and “this reporter thinks it's about ph'king time.” (Kent Brockman). If I may hazard a guess, I think it has a lot to do with the fact that many of us were raised by single mothers, giving us a lot more sympathy for the women in our lives. Of course, there are a lot of issues related to such upbringings, but something good has come of it. For an absolutely stellar example of this, see http://www.dadlabs.com/ Their book was given to me by Andrea, and it was just great! Let's hope that this is an ongoing upward spiral!
Speak of the Angel, Callie is well. Her umbilical stump fell off last week, so we can do full-immersion baths now, and she loves it! She hated the sponge baths, screaming herself hoarse, and turning the color of a raspberry! We got video of it, it's really funny! If I can ever get around to transferring it from camcorder to computer, I'll post it!
We've got our Thanksgiving this weekend (up here in the Great White North), so it will be her first family holiday. Naturally, we had to get her an outfit, because it mixes two of Andrea's passions: shopping, and playing dress-up with our new little girl! Not that we've got a shortage of clothes from friends & family, but they're all huge on her! Our kid will be damn well-dressed from 5-9 months old! Thanksgiving may be my favorite holiday; I love autumn, I love feasting, throw in a long weekend, and good times are had by all! Not to mention how important it is to have a general sense of gratitude; something that Consumer Culture has driven out of us. But I don't understand why they don't celebrate Thanksgiving is England; they'll celebrate the time a terrorist tried to blow up their parliament (Guy Falks), but putting all their Religious Fundamentalists on boats and shipping them off doesn't seem as note-worthy. Go figure.
A couple days ago, I posted about how much I help out with Callie, and got some great responses! When I ask around (and from what I've read on several other Blogs), it seems we're in the middle of a changing-of-the-guard. Men are becoming more involved, and “this reporter thinks it's about ph'king time.” (Kent Brockman). If I may hazard a guess, I think it has a lot to do with the fact that many of us were raised by single mothers, giving us a lot more sympathy for the women in our lives. Of course, there are a lot of issues related to such upbringings, but something good has come of it. For an absolutely stellar example of this, see http://www.dadlabs.com/ Their book was given to me by Andrea, and it was just great! Let's hope that this is an ongoing upward spiral!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Where's My Medal?
It has been wa-a-ay too long, but you know, life happens. The big thing was that we had settled into something of a routine. Andrea's been great about taking the overnight feedings when I have to work, leaving me to cover two nights. It sounds wildly imbalanced when I say it like that, but we're doing what we can to work around my full-time job.
Which brings me to something another Blogger – Vodka Logic, I think, but I can't seem to find the reference – brought up: there still seems to be this perception that men who help with diapers & other newborn inconvenience deserve medals and parades! Honestly, I helped to bring the little gaffer into the world! Even if you believe in a version of a Creator (and I do, though I wouldn't try to offer a definition of Creator, or believe that any institution corners that market, but I digress...), it was my pearl jam that got the ball rolling. Therefore, I have a responsibility to pull my weight! I had a great Paternal Model, and understand that there's more to it than passing-on a family name and teaching them to hate what I hate (“Take off your sunglasses when you're inside, you look like a damn poseur!”).
So in conclusion; Diapers? Nasty, but it takes less time than the average commercial break, so SUCK IT UP! Getting up in the night? It doesn't last long, and it's a great excuse for not bringing my A-Game at work :) Besides, my darling wife deserves a good nights sleep, even if I can only do it twice a week.
And another thing: many women wind up with men who resemble their fathers. Now THERE'S something to make a father's head spin! So when she's in high school, do I want to be up all night waiting for her to come home when I know what a ph'khol her boyfriend is? Or do I want to trust that she knows how a considerate fellow is supposed to treat her?
On a more mundane note, I finally got my first Late-Night-moodiness-incident last night (my turn). I thought she just needed a changing. She was wet, so that was that, and yet it wasn't. So after she wouldn't settle for half an hour, I fed her, nearly two hours early. Long story short, it took two feedings, three changings, and two ½ hours for her to settle. Just when she seemed to be sleepy, I put her down, and ten minutes later, she'd fuss again! This happened about three times! The funny thing is, we'll look back on this time as “The easy part!” Can I get an 'Amen'?
Which brings me to something another Blogger – Vodka Logic, I think, but I can't seem to find the reference – brought up: there still seems to be this perception that men who help with diapers & other newborn inconvenience deserve medals and parades! Honestly, I helped to bring the little gaffer into the world! Even if you believe in a version of a Creator (and I do, though I wouldn't try to offer a definition of Creator, or believe that any institution corners that market, but I digress...), it was my pearl jam that got the ball rolling. Therefore, I have a responsibility to pull my weight! I had a great Paternal Model, and understand that there's more to it than passing-on a family name and teaching them to hate what I hate (“Take off your sunglasses when you're inside, you look like a damn poseur!”).
So in conclusion; Diapers? Nasty, but it takes less time than the average commercial break, so SUCK IT UP! Getting up in the night? It doesn't last long, and it's a great excuse for not bringing my A-Game at work :) Besides, my darling wife deserves a good nights sleep, even if I can only do it twice a week.
And another thing: many women wind up with men who resemble their fathers. Now THERE'S something to make a father's head spin! So when she's in high school, do I want to be up all night waiting for her to come home when I know what a ph'khol her boyfriend is? Or do I want to trust that she knows how a considerate fellow is supposed to treat her?
On a more mundane note, I finally got my first Late-Night-moodiness-incident last night (my turn). I thought she just needed a changing. She was wet, so that was that, and yet it wasn't. So after she wouldn't settle for half an hour, I fed her, nearly two hours early. Long story short, it took two feedings, three changings, and two ½ hours for her to settle. Just when she seemed to be sleepy, I put her down, and ten minutes later, she'd fuss again! This happened about three times! The funny thing is, we'll look back on this time as “The easy part!” Can I get an 'Amen'?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Fading Fast!
In the middle of writing my last post, I went upstairs (computer's tucked-away in the basement) to refill my coffee, and asked Andrea, “What was that thing that happened this morning that we were doubled-over laughing about?” and neither of us could remember. If I didn't know better, I'd say that sleep-deprivation wasn't good for my...thing my head does...with the words and pictures of things that happened.
Turns out, it had to do with our re-packaging songs to sing to Callie. Years ago, I would sing a song to Andrea to the tune of Cookie Monster's “C is for Cookie:”
“B is for Boobie, is good enough for me (3x)
Boobie Boobie Boobie, Boobie starts with B”
It had been a couple of years, so when Andrea dusted off this ol' chestnut as an Ode to Callie's Grub, she couldn't quite remember how it went. What she came up with was,
“Boobie Boobie Boobie, Boobie starts with B,
“Boobie Boobie Boobie, you can put it in your tea.”
Well you could skip the sugar. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about! We've all been curious!
And that's as far as I got before I had a brain-cramp of epic proportions. Twice, I tried to write more, but all I got was crap, and you deserve better! Hell, I was up for half an hour today before I thought to put my coffee on – no ones more shocked than me!
That, and I'm laughing at the stupidest shit, like a TV clip that called Oatmeal “That hit of 1840” I need a solid 8 hours sleep; now I know what to ask for for Christmas!
Turns out, it had to do with our re-packaging songs to sing to Callie. Years ago, I would sing a song to Andrea to the tune of Cookie Monster's “C is for Cookie:”
“B is for Boobie, is good enough for me (3x)
Boobie Boobie Boobie, Boobie starts with B”
It had been a couple of years, so when Andrea dusted off this ol' chestnut as an Ode to Callie's Grub, she couldn't quite remember how it went. What she came up with was,
“Boobie Boobie Boobie, Boobie starts with B,
“Boobie Boobie Boobie, you can put it in your tea.”
Well you could skip the sugar. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about! We've all been curious!
And that's as far as I got before I had a brain-cramp of epic proportions. Twice, I tried to write more, but all I got was crap, and you deserve better! Hell, I was up for half an hour today before I thought to put my coffee on – no ones more shocked than me!
That, and I'm laughing at the stupidest shit, like a TV clip that called Oatmeal “That hit of 1840” I need a solid 8 hours sleep; now I know what to ask for for Christmas!
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