Thankful

I want to thank the lab technician that sifted through my sperm sample and picked out the 30% of sperm that looked viable and healthy.  And I want to thank the one that picked out that one single one and injected it into our egg.  Because that seemingly random choice produced my beautiful baby boy.  And without God guiding his or her hands, we wouldn’t have this exact baby, and my life would be the worst for it.  Because he’s absolutely perfect.

Exorcism

I have exorcised the diaper! This onesie is clear! There are no evil spirits in this onesie, it is whitish and pure. It is no longer afflicted by pee or poop. Sure it has seen its share of spit, of milk, of oatmeal, of egg; but it has not quit. It has been through the battlefield and come out on the other side. This onesie is not done! It is ready for more. There is a new diaper and a new dawn on the horizon. So be gone foul popcorn! Flee oh used moo juice! You cannot have this one. It is set aside and wanted. The one that wears it rejects you, even as he snuggles into your inviting arms again. But in the end, detergent and bleach will prevail, and we shall claim this onesie back as many times as it takes!

Gipsy Baby

My wife bought a new high chair for Troy, so he can sit with us at the table while we eat. As usual, she spared no expense, and we ended up with the Ferrari of high chairs. It’s actually Italian with a leather seat, and it can be adjusted in 27 different ways. My favorite feature is that the seat can be raised and lowered, which immediately reminded me of a Jaegar from the movie Pacific Rim. For those unfamiliar with the Jaegars, they are giant robots that are piloted by two humans connected by a neural sync. The two humans have to act together in symmetry for the robot to function. While normally it’s impossible for one human to pilot a Jaegar alone, a smaller one-man version was introduced in the second installment of the movie.

Seeing Troy sitting in his high chair immediately reminded me of the Jaegars. The thing even looks like a robotic extension of Troy’s self. So I’ve taken to calling the thing Gipsy Baby, in homage to Gipsy Danger and Gipsy Avenger, the central Jaegars from the movies. Every time I strap him into it, I say, “Neural uplink complete, Gipsy Baby online.” I’ve even thought about getting some decals for the side of it, but my wife said that might be a bit too much.

Exoskeleton Upgrade

Sometimes when I’m changing my son’s diaper, I’ll pretend like he’s a robot or some futuristic mech-warrior.  I’ll tell him that his exoskeleton body armor is being upgraded to provide him better protection, as I strap the new diaper on him.  As I snap his onesie closed, I'll tell him that his force field is now activated.  He must believe me, because it’s usually about that time that he gets cocky and starts taunting me with raspberries.

I Don't Care

I was listening to I Don’t Care by Ed Sheerin on the radio today, and for someone reason I imagined it being sung from the perspective of my son. For some reason this made me cry. The words changed in my head, and it went something like this:

'Cause I don't care when I'm with my daddy, yeah

All the bad things disappear

And you're making me feel like maybe I am somebody

I can deal with the bad nights

When I'm with my daddy, yeah

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

'Cause I don't care, as long as you just hold me near

You can take me anywhere

And you're making me feel like I'm loved by somebody

I can deal with the bad nights

When I'm with my daddy, yeah

Calm Before the Storm

If my son is crying, and he feels like he’s not getting what he wants or even if you go and say something stupid like, “You’re okay,” he will start crying louder. I’m not sure if it’s entirely in outrage or to drown out our stupidity as well. But it’s that moment when he stops crying and takes in a huge intake of air, that you realize that you have not yet witnessed the beautiful heights with which his little voice can go! It’s like the calm before the storm...the ear-splitting, banshee wail of a thousand souls weeping in hell...storm. I can’t help but be both brought to my knees in agony and largely impressed.

Never Knew I Needed (Love Song for My Son)

For the way you changed my plans
For being the perfect distraction
For the way you took the idea that I have
Of everything that I wanted to have
And made me see there was something missing, oh yeah

For the ending of my first begin
(Ooh, yeah yeah, ooh, yeah yeah)
And for the rare and unexpected friend
(Ooh, yeah yeah, ooh, yeah yeah)
For the way you're something that I'd never choose
But at the same time, something I don't wanna lose
And never wanna be without ever again

You're the best thing I never knew I needed
So when you were here I had no idea
You are the best thing I never knew I needed
So now it's so clear, I need you here always

My accidental happily
(Ever after)
The way you smile and how you comfort me
(With your laughter)
I must admit you were not a part of my book
But now if you open it up and take a look
You're the beginning and the end of every chapter

You're the best thing I never knew I needed
So when you were here I had no idea
(When you were here)
You the best thing I never knew I needed
(That I needed)
So now it's so clear, I need you here always
(Now it's so clear)

Who knew that I could be
(Who knew that I could be)
So unexpectedly
(So unexpectedly)
Undeniably happier
Sitting with you right here, right here next to me

Son, you're the best

You're the best thing I never knew I needed
(Said I needed)
So when you were here I had no idea
(When you were here)
(Said I had no idea)

You're the best thing I never knew I needed
(That I needed)
So now it's so clear I need you here always
(Now it's so clear)
(So clear, so clear, I need you always)

Now it's so clear, I need you here always

Wasting Time

At around two months of age, CC taught his son to hold his own bottle. He’ll leave him in his carrier, put a towel across his chest, prop the bottle on the towel, and go back to whatever he was doing. His son has learned to grab it and pull it into his mouth. In this way, CC doesn’t have to “waste time” sitting there and waiting for his son to finish. I for one don’t consider getting to spend time with my son as a waste of time. I like sitting and holding him while he drinks. I like hearing his satisfied cooing sounds. I like the feel of his little hand reaching up and stroking my beard. I like the warmth of his little body, and the way he kicks his feet. I like kissing the tips of his fingers as he holds them up to me one by one. I like watching his eyelids getting heavy and seeing him slowly drift into sleep. Why would I want to teach him to do that without me and miss those moments? That is what seems like a waste of time...doing anything else but feeding him.

Oatmeal Disaster

Based on the doctors recommendation, last night we attempted to introduce oatmeal into Troy’s diet. It was a complete disaster! He cried during every single agonizing bite. By the end, he had more oatmeal on his face and onesie than he did in his mouth. After a few minutes, we gave up and got him a bottle instead. In hindsight, we shouldn’t have started it when he was really hungry and his teeth were hurting him. He wasn’t calm enough to appreciate this new wondrous thing. We will persevere though. Hopefully, the next time will be better.

Baby Fingers

Today my wife was complaining about having an upset stomach. I told her it was from all of the baby fingers she’s been eating. Because every time she sees the baby, she starts to kiss and “munch” on his fingers. At least I got a laugh out of her, which in hindsight might not have been the best thing when your stomach hurts.

Beat Boxing

So, Troy has started to spit. Not spit up, but spit on purpose. Sometimes, for long durations of time. He entertains himself with making different sounds and moving his lips in different ways. It’s like he’s feeling it out to see what’s possible in the spectrum. Today, he was doing it, and he was varying his spitting quite a bit, and it sounded like he was beat boxing. I started beat boxing with him, and he giggled and spit some more. Baby’s got mad skills!

The Stairmaster

Lately, the only thing that seems to calm my son’s cries is picking him up and carrying him up and down the stairs. If I stop or pause too long to catch my breath, he starts to moan and cry again. Sixteen stairs up, sixteen stairs down. When you spend half an hour every day walking up and down them, you get intimately familiar with them...their number, where the carpet is worn a little more in places, which ones squeak.

He doesn’t even seem to mind the fact that I end up sweating profusely. He’ll lick my shoulder, presumably because he likes to taste of the salt. He also doesn’t seem to be bothered by my hoarse, wheezing last breaths before death. He has even started mimicking the sounds, presumably as encouragement...not sure if that’s encouragement to push through it or to hurry up and get it over with!

White Christmas

There's a quote in the movie White Christmas that has been repeatedly popping into my head over the last week.  The quote is a conversation between two former Army men who have just discovered their formal General is now running an inn in Vermont.  I guess it's funny to me, because now when I hear it, I don't think about the General...I think about my son.

Daddy:  He ate, then we ate.  He slept, then we slept.
Mommy:  Yeah, then he woke up and nobody slept for forty-eight hours.

Mouth

Troy has officially discovered that everything can go into his mouth. I know psychologists call this the oral stage, but I wonder if anybody but a baby really knows why they do it. Are they tasting everything, learning textures and shapes, or is it more basic...are they just sticking things in their mouth, because where else would you put blankets, facial tissues, onesies, pillows, feet fingers (a.k.a. toes), and hand fingers (a.k.a. fingers)?

Handful of Hurt

When my wife is holding Troy on her chest with his head resting on her shoulder, he likes to reach his right arm around her neck. It was cute at first, because he was hugging and snuggling with her. But then he entered into the grasping stage where he would grab anything that comes into contact with his hand. My wife has these small little curly hairs along the bottom of her hairline that she calls her baby curls, because she’s had them since she was a baby. Well Troy got a hold of them one day and grabbed on. When he moved he took the hair with him. Apparently it’s very painful to have a baby rip your hair out, and now he does it every time she holds him. She complains that he’s leaving a bald spot in her hair.

I have short hair and zero curls, so all he does is grab onto my shirt with both hands. And then I give him the ride of his life!

Mommy's Make Everything Feel Better

Troy has been sick with a cold and eat infection. The sickness and medicine are making him feel puny and lethargic. And at those moments, only one thing makes him feel better...mommy. It doesn’t matter that I’m always there for him. It’s not the same. I didn’t carry him, so he doesn’t seek my heartbeat when he’s sick. He craves his mother’s arms; her warmth, her softness, her smell, her familiarness.

Don't Talk to Me Until I've Had My First Cup

My stepfather used to tell me not to talk to him in the mornings until he’d had his first and possibly second cup of coffee. Based on the size of his coffee cup that usually could take a while.

I’ve noticed that Troy takes a while to wake up in the mornings. He’ll open his eyes to slits, yawn, stretch his arms above his head, twist his body while stretching his legs straight out, and then finally open his eyes all the way. He’ll just kind of lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to decide if it’s worth it or if he should just go back to sleep. I laugh because I find myself doing that same thing every morning too.

If I try to talk to him, he just stares at me with an expressionless look on his face, and I imagine him saying those same words my stepfather said every morning. “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my first and possibly my second bottle.”