Spider Baby!

Look out! Here comes spider-baby!

Me? I'm not Spider Baby! I'm Peter Parker....female baby version.

Drunk Baby

The pictures speak for themselves:

"I love you, man."

"I can TOO drive!"

"Wuzzat? Me no drinky. Drinky. Drink. Hahahahaha!"

"No ossifer. Jus' no."

Merry Christmas (Happy Tuesday)!

From all of us to all of you, Merry Christmas. If you don't celebrate Christmas then I still hope you have a happy Tuesday but that your Thursday is kind of inconvenient.

This was adorable 3.2 seconds ago.

If the holiday season has you pulling your hair out just remember that it'll all be over soon and you can mend your wounds in the coming year only to do it all over again next time.

We had a wonderful morning together opening presents and enjoying each other's presence. I hope that you can spend today with loved ones or doing something that you love. Maybe both.

Chillin' with some friends.

Lois isn't quite old enough to open her own presents so Mommy and Daddy got to tear into them. I'm hoping this trend continues because I really like opening presents.

"Happy 16th birthday, Lois! Daddy's going to open your presents for you!"

I doubt it'll fly but if I tell her her whole life that parents always open their presents for their children she'll have to believe it, right? As long as I get mommy, aunts, uncles, and grandparents to go along with it?

Nobody ever likes my ideas.

"Tonight that baby next door sleeps with the fishies. And I got a horsie!"

Lois got some great presents that I'd like to thank the senders for!

She really loved the crinkle wrap sent by Aunt Myra, the wrapping paper from Grandma and Grandpa Smith, and the box containing other presents from Gigi and Grandpa.

Thank you all, and Merry Christmas!

Truckin'

We are currently in the middle of a car trip covering Ohio, New York, and the DC area, then heading back home. We're in Ohio now, enjoying our time with some friends, and the little girl has been fantastic!

Except for the part where she refuses to nap or be put down. That's been a little hard.

It's understandable. We're in a new place with people she's never met, with things she's never seen. She rode in the car for hours and hours the other day and so now she's cranky. She doesn't want to be put down for fear that we'll...I don't know...leave her behind? I'd never let that happen but how the hell is she going to know that? Right now when I say "Everything is okay Lois. Everything is fine. We love you Lois" what she hears is "blah blah blah Lois. Blah blah blah. Blah blah blah Lois." Maybe. She might also hear "blahblahblahblahblahblahblah." She doesn't seem to know her name yet. She reacts to a kissy sound just as readily as her name, which is to say every now and then.

Today we were at the house most of the day and Lois would NOT be put down. She would wake up, cry, throw a fit, and generally didn't allow herself to rest. Oh, she slept for 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there, but total I'd say she slept for thirty minutes where she normally naps for a good few hours during the day. The house was relatively quiet, very comfortable, and the setting was perfect for a nap but she told us in no uncertain terms that she was not tired.

Going out to dinner I expected her to be fussy and need a bottle. We were in a bar, the air was hot, the place was crowded, and it was noisier than even I usually feel comfortable being around.

She was sound asleep for most of dinner.

My little baby is confusing.

There's A Whole Wide World Out There!

Lois had her four month old doctor's appointment the other day and the doctor says our little girl is perfect. Now, we obviously already knew that but it's really nice to hear a medical professional say what we already knew. Perfect.

That's right folks. We're sorry. Your baby is inferior because ours is perfect. Medically stated, therefore it must be true. It's okay, I'm sure your baby is adorable too, just not perfect.*

That's right. I'm perfect.

She's started looking at the world around her and interacting with it. She went from "I have no idea what these things around me are" to reaching out and grabbing the world around her, not just batting at things like most babies do.

It's awesome.

I watch her play with the toys, grab my fingers or mommy's hair and it's great to see her realize that she can interact with things.

She's even started petting the kitty when he comes close enough to allow her to touch him. They have an uneasy truce; he says hi right up until her little fingers accidentally latch on to whatever part of his body they happen to be touching and she doesn't grab his tail if he keeps it away from her hands. It's a good truce.

The Baby-Cat Truce shown in action.

We owe Aunt Mel a huge thank you for Lois' new toy off of the baby gift list I put up a while ago because this little play mat has shown just how active our little girl has become. We received it yesterday and today our little girl is just going crazy playing with the crinkle toys, using her hands and her feet to grab them, swing them, and play.

Now that she's able to interact with the world around her I have to be a little more careful.

For example, the other night we had friends over for a party and I was having a beer. I looked over in time to take the beer bottle out of her hand but I swear the glint in her eye said "I'm gettin' some of that sweet, sweet, amber ale!" And then she watched as I took gulps from the beer that she had tried to get and she became angry at me, kicking me and crying. It was HER beer, not daddy's!

So now, on top of getting her used to solid foods (Oh, the poop...) I have to watch and make sure that my little girl doesn't make herself into a 5-month-old alcoholic.

Thankfully I can use that wonderful toy mat from Aunt Mel to distract her and in the meantime just give her some coffee instead.

*Parenthood is a competition, right? Where the person who makes their baby sound the most advanced and most perfect wins? Or am I doing that wrong?

Pouty Pout Pout Face

Lois is getting even better at manipulating mom and dad into doing her will. She has not only mastered the art of "Crying So That I Get Attention" (she cries, and stops when someone LOOKS at her, then starts back up when anyone looks away) but has also learned the ultimate in pouty face.

How could you say no to this?

Can I have a pony daddy? Please?*

Lois Miriam Smith aka Little Miss Stubborn, aka Little Manipulating Sweety, aka Cockblocker

*Credit for this photograph goes to Grandma Pam who watched Lois for us last night while we went out on a date night. Credit, and a really big thank you!

Top 5 Reasons I Am A Horrible Father

5. I write posts like this one, or really this entire blog.

4. Sometimes I think things like "Just go to sleep little girl, daddy really wants to play this video game."

3. Sometimes I say things like #4 out loud.

2. I still call my babygirl "cockblocker," just quietly and not when other people are around.

1. I think this picture is hilarious because it's true:

It's Okay, I Fixed It

My daughter hates me.

Oh, if you ask mom she'll tell you I'm being ridiculous but honestly I think it's the only explanation for what's been happening lately.

I'll hold Lois and she'll look at me and out of nowhere start crying. Her diaper's fine, nothing in particular seems to be causing her stress, but looking at daddy? Daddy's horrible and scary looking and I must cry now.

Doing scientific testing I took Lois and pointed her at mommy while crying. Within less than three seconds the crying was gone, replaced by a smile. Back at daddy? Tears and screaming. Back at mommy: the world is great. Back at daddy: I hate everything in this big scary world. Back at mommy: Yay mommy!

So then when Mommy was out of the room later Lois and I had a little talk and I think I fixed it. We seem to be on more even footing and she barely cries at the sight of me anymore.

The pony should arrive in a week or two.

Lois Gift List

I've been asked to put up a gift list for Lois for family and friends to look through. Any other baby-appropriate toys or warm clothing in the 6 to 9 month range (or other clothing in a higher range) are definitely accepted and appreciated!

• Graco Blossom 4-in-1 Seating System, Vance 
• Evenflo ExerSaucer Triple Fun - Jungle 
• Tiny Love Super Deluxe Lights and Music Gymini Activity Gym 
• Baby Einstein Bendy Ball 
• Manhattan Toy Winkel

How To Know....

Laura came to me this morning and said that she knows for a fact that we're better parents.

"How?" I asked, very curious.

"The Baby 411 book that we used to refer to frantically every day to see what we needed to do next has just sat there, unused, for a few weeks."

She's right! We're great parents!

Either that or completely neglectful. I still haven't decided.

In other news, here's a picture of our baby's newest manifested ability:

Spider Baby!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Rule 1: Do not cook the baby.

Exception: Thanksgiving?

She doesn't seem to mind. Nom?

Happy Thanksgiving!

So This Exists...

Want your baby to help with the housework? All you have to do is dress the baby up in this mop suit, put them on the floor, and let them mop up all the germs and dirt so that they can chew on it for a while!

This lead me to Googling other weird baby outfits. Seems like lobster-babies are quite popular. Vaguely along those lines, please enjoy "Nom Nom Nom Nom Babies."

Wherein I Don't Want My Baby To Die

Lois is starting to do things like interact with the world around her, reaching out toward things nearby that she finds interesting.  She's also trying to sit herself up when we lay her down, doing this V-shaped move that I think in yoga is called a "jackknife." I could be wrong.

She's even started tipping herself on her side late at night while she's sleeping, or faking being asleep.

Which, of course, is terrifying.

As you may recall from not long ago, I need to swaddle my baby to help her sleep. Now she is capable of tipping herself onto her side which means that soon she will tip herself over. With SIDS a terrifying reality in this world, the thought of her flipping onto her stomach with no way of flipping herself back and theoretically no way of moving her head if she's face-down and exhausted, we are going to immediately stop swaddling her and get her used to sleeping with her arms free.

We may swaddle her legs so she's not kicking herself awake but her arms will be free. I imagine the evening will go like this:

1. Lay her down to sleep after a feeding. She will probably suck on one of her hands for a while and doze off.
2. Flail as she falls asleep (whether this is because of the Moro reflex or something else I don't know) and rip her own hand out of her mouth.
3. Wake up.
4. Cry because someone took away her soothing sucking hand.
5. Pick up baby and soothe.
6. Repeat. All. Night. Long.

So if I seem a little tired over the next few days it's because I am. If mom seems a little tired? It's because she is. We both expect this to take a while and be rough on both of us but we're both concerned for her and want to do everything we can to make sure she's healthy.

Even if it turns us into zombies.

Sometimes Things Get A Little Strange....

Dads and moms, sometimes things get weird as a parent and I'm here to let you know that that's okay.

Sometimes the weirdness is your reaction to something like being happy about poop, sometimes it's just the things you say and how weird they would sound to an outsider like my post Parenting or Porn, and sometimes it's a third nipple.

Poop! Poop everywhere!

1. Let's start at TMI and just get worse from there: Yesterday I said "Yay! You pooped!" and was genuinely happy. Our little girl hadn't pooped for several days and we were on the verge of calling a doctor. Then she almost literally exploded with poop. And we were happy about it. Happy. About poop. Poop! (Especially me, who wasn't here at the time and didn't have to clean it up.)
2. Along the lines of "things you say that are weird" I found myself, today, saying "We don't have enough nipples in this household!" Weird enough but then I added "Which, considering between the 3 of us there are seven, is saying a lot!" Now in the first half of that I was talking about bottle nipples and the second half I was talking about....
3. Apparently if you ask your baby's doctor "why does it look like my baby has an extra nipple" they will calmly reply "because your baby has an extra nipple." So, yeah. That happened. Which, you'd think that would be the weirdest thing, right? You'd be wrong.
1. So, lesson to be learned: Babies are weird in more ways than you'll ever plan for as a parent. You'll say strange things, see strange things, and be in strange places before you know it.
4. A while back I said that there was something I was not allowed to blog about. I asked Laura about it and she said "No. Absolutely not." And while I didn't necessarily agree with her choice I understood it; the thing that was going on was weird and I could see her feeling weird about sharing it. Then the thing stopped happening and I got permission to blog about it.
   
   Our baby lactated and had little tiny baby boobies. It was very, very strange and kinda discomforting. It went away and we were all happy. Apparently it has to do with hormones from mom being transferred in the breast milk and is, according to doctors and Wikipedia, "perfectly normal." DEFINE "NORMAL." I'm pretty sure "milk coming from the baby's nipples" is NOT in that definition.
   
   It's even called "Witch's Milk." No, seriously. Look it up (or don't) and see that I'm not lying! And they call that "normal." NORMAL. Blows. My. Mind.
   
   But it's done now. It's over with. No more milk, no more baby boobs, and even the third nipple is fading into nothingness. I'm allowed to share the story because now it's just "something that happened a while back and no big deal." When it was happening though? No.
   
   Good luck!

And those of you who have already gone through this, I ask you: What is the weirdest thing that ever happened with your baby? Maybe it was something you said, something you did, something the baby did? What else should I be on the lookout for?


EDIT: I posted this and within 20 minutes Laura sent me the following via Facebook:
Laura: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supernumerary_nipple
Laura: This implies that it is entirely possible to have a range of extra nipples. All on the same body
Laura: a la the rows of nipples found on other mammals
Laura: Like cats
Laura: OUR BABY IS A CAT!

Like I said...things get weird.

To My Little Girl In The Future

Lois, I'm sorry.

You're not popular and it's my fault. Mom shares some of the blame as well. See, you got your sense of humor by being around us and so we have to take the fault here. If we had thought about it we probably would have tried to be cooler, or more hip. Kids still say "hip" these days, right? Snazzy. We would have been cooler and tried to think of awesome one-liners like you see in the movies but instead? You got us.

Actual conversation this morning:

Me: How much milk do you want?

Laura: Milk it for all it's worth, baby!

Me: *groan, sigh* That was horrible. A pun is supposed to be funny, fit the conversation well, have wit, and be at least semi-intelligent. Yours had the makings of a pun but of all the qualification it lactose*.

Her: *groan, head shake, sigh* Yours was horrible. Mine was in the top 2 percent.

So I'm sorry. Mommy's sorry too. It's our fault that you have trouble making friends. But honey, we think you're hilarious.

*Pronounced closer to "lacked those." It's harder to see the pun than hear it when you actually say it. Don't let the pun get pasteurize.

Tummy Torture Time

As she slams her face into the floor with the speed of an African Swallow (unladen) smashing into a window I start to think that maybe this was a bad idea. The third or fourth time she does it, tears spilling down her face and her little cries issuing forth I'm sure this was a bad idea.

But the doctors tell us we have to do it. It's not my fault little girl, and if you read this some day in the future I hope you realize the reason you hate laying on your stomach as an adult is because the doctors made me make you hurt yourself. I swear.

Not my fault!

I hate hearing her cry and so tummy time doesn't happen as often as I'm told it should. Every time she's put down on the floor it follows an inevitable pattern:

1. Hold head up and scoot legs happily for about 5 to 10 seconds.

2. Start to get upset and let the world know it with some small-time, doesn't-even-bother-daddy-or-mommy-anymore crying.

3. Slam face into ground.

4. Pick face up and cry.

5. Repeat 3 and 4 several times.

6. Hate daddy.

And then one of the other of us wonderful parents swoops in to save her, plies her with some food, and within an hour or two she forgives us and will look at us again without seething hatred in her beautiful (still blue) eyes.

The doctors suggest tummy time every day and so I have to start doing that. I've put it off. But, see, the other day a stranger asked me if my little girl is rolling over yet and when I said "not yet" she told me how her 2 and a half month old could roll over and it was so precious!

Oh, we can't have that. Nobody can be better at something than my little girl! My little girl must win ALL the arguments!

So, of course, I told her how my little girl is in the babbling developmental stage of speech already and how the other day she stood straight with just her hand holding my large finger. Take that lady I don't know!

What? Isn't parenthood a competition?

And for those that want to hear my little baby-girl cry (you sickos), here is tummy time from yesterday. The video is short but gives you the idea:

Civic Duty

Very excited to have done her civic duty.

I don't care where you stand on the elections today in the United States but if my baby can do her civic duty and vote then you should too. (Unless you're just voting for "the prettier one" or "the one with the nicest hair.")

Either way, I don't think that babies should have the right to vote but as you can see she voted and so should you.

I Have An Adorable Baby

Need I say more?

Actually, yes: This photo was taken by Aunt Amanda while watching Lois. Thank you, Auntie Amanda!

Late Night: I Am A Horrible Father

First off, yes. 9:30 PM on a Friday counts as "late night." I'm officially both old and a parent. I know.

So let me start by saying that my little girl is in her crib right now, screaming that all is wrong with the world and that daddy is a horrible, mean bastard who should have his daddy card revoked and she hates him. She's been crying like this for about 3 minutes and will probably continue crying thusly until I actually give in and go save her from the sleep monsters.*

Mommy went away for a girl's night out with Auntie Amanda and I've had a crying baby since she left a little over two hours ago. Oh, rocking in the rocking chair worked for about 15 minutes, and a bottle worked for 10, just like letting her suck on my pinkie finger worked for about 5 minutes but other than that she has been telling our neighbors (we live in an apartment complex) that I am a horrible father.

If they can hear her at this point I'm sure they're inclined to agree.

Hell, I'm getting close to agreeing.**

So, not knowing what to do, I decided to sit down in front of my laptop and give you new fathers and fathers-to-be this advice:

Get used to being the world's worst dad. Not only will your child call you it, but you'll also feel like they're right.

*These are not, mind you, monsters that come for you in your sleep but rather invisible monsters that cause you to fall asleep and then peacefully go away.
**Not really, but it's definitely getting close.

Sleeping Woes, Plus THE SWING.

Last night we decided to try to let Lois sleep without being wrapped in her baby burrito because she's turning 3 months old in 3 days and that's about when you need to start establishing good sleep habits, including not sleeping all wrapped. We also tried to lay her on her back instead of in her bouncy chair for the night.

Baby burrito, ready for sleep....or eating.

We bit off more than we could chew.

It was like the first week of life with her all over again. No sleep. No dreams. Just crying. So, of course, we failed. We just can't go back to that; we don't have the fortitude (mental or physical). She ended up back in her chair for most of the night but unwrapped.

But the sleep-time ritual has started. We need to get her sleeping on her back in her crib, without the wrap.

I'm prepared for more than a couple sleepless nights; mommy and I have to work out a sleeping schedule so that one of us is awake to handle the baby outrage from us changing her sleep habits. Tonight we'll probably take her out of the burrito wrap but leave her in the chair. Once she's used to that we'll start putting her on her back. Yay, sleeplessness!

And speaking of sleepy, let me tell you, Lois is definitely tired today from keeping us up all night. So at the moment I have her in her swing.

Have I told you about the amazingly magical swing? I love it, Lois loves it, and truly it's a god-send. During the day she will take a three hour nap using the swing. Doesn't sound like much? Consider that before she would sleep 10, maybe 15 minutes.

Three. Full. Hours.

And it looks ADORABLE!

I haven't had 3 full hours in the daytime to work around the house (or play games, or whatever) while Laura works since Lois was born. I think, at most, she might have napped for an hour once. Now this has happened two days in a row. That swing is truly a mystical device and I love it. Lois and mommy do too!

Now, if only there were a way that she could just sleep in a swing for the rest of her life. Unfortunately they don't make things that hold you off the ground and swing in the breeze...

Unless you count a hammock.

I have to go tell Laura the fantastic idea I just had that our daughter never has to sleep in a regular, non-moving, standard bed again. GENIUS!

While I do that, here's her enjoying the swing:

Wide Afake

You may remember a while back when I complained that my baby fakes sleeping so that she can then wake up and laugh at us for thinking mommy and daddy might get some time together. She still does this, of course, but we've gotten into the swing of things at night and she's actually sleeping well through the night. Books tell me she should also be getting naps during the day which, of course, happens with the regularity of a narwhal showing up in your office, which is to say it doesn't.

Oh, she naps. 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there. The other day I think I might have accidentally slipped rum into her bottle because she napped for an entire 20 minutes before waking up and stopping me from cleaning around the house because she needs attention now Daddy!.

This picture is completely unrelated to this post.

Well maybe because she doesn't nap during the day, or maybe because she's still Little Miss Stubborn, she's decided that being tired is the worst thing ever and if she's tired? She needs us to know that she is absolutely, positively, not in any way tired and never could be. In fact, Daddy, she never needs to sleep again because she is SO awa...zzzz...ke!!! AWAKE!

It's adorable to see, until the crying starts.

Her eyes get big and round, showing those baby blues off to the world. She waves her hands around like she's dancing to a bad early 2000's hip-hop song by Cameo and kicking

Lois knows the answer*! Also, she is NOT TIRED.

her feet around like she's learning Kung-Fu.

We call this state being "wide afake." She needs us to know that she isn't tired and that she doesn't have to be laid down in bed soon, please. No, really. Not tired. NOT TIRED. NO! DO NOT WANT!

It's adorable and we make fun of her constantly for it. If she grows up feeling that we're making fun of her behind her back it's not because we ARE making fun of her but because she's vaguely remembering all the times we DID as a baby and flat-out laughed at her antics.

Yet another way I'm screwing up my little girl but hey, if you can't laugh what's left?

*If I couldn't laugh at my little girl? Insanity is all that would be left because I'd be holding it all in and that's a LOT of laughing to hold in.

Only For Daddy

The other day Lois looked at me with big bright eyes and clearly said "Hi!"

I laughed because obviously this was impossible and was just air escaping in a random matter, regardless of how much it really sounded like the word "hi." She's not even yet 3 months old; she can't talk.

Except then she did it again later directly in response to me saying "Hi little girl!"

So I showed mommy.

Except that I didn't. See, she wouldn't say it for mommy. When mommy wandered away, less than impressed at this genius of a baby, Lois looked up at me, smiled and said "hi" under her breath.

Not. Even. Joking.

She hasn't really done it since, which shows me that it's clearly a fluke but...

Yesterday I taught our little girl to blow a raspberry by walking her through verbally step-by-step. She followed my directions exactly and ended up blowing a perfect raspberry. I rushed to show mommy this.

Nothing.

Same thing with pursing her lips and going "bptbptbptbpt." Show mommy? Nothing.

I feel kinda like the guy who finds the WB frog that will only dance for him.

Either that or insane. Maybe both.

Road Trip! Washington, D.C.

We took our first big road trip this weekend to visit our friends Heather, Greg, and their newly adopted little girl in Washington, DC! It was a fantastic time and on Sunday we went to the Smithsonian DC Zoo! It was a nice weekend, punctuated with some really cool sightseeing.

Here's our story, in pictures:

It was a beautiful day for a drive.

Lois didn't care for the scenery 2 hours into the 5 hour drive. Feeding time!

Beautiful sunny weather meant zebras were roaming/playing

And cheetahs were lazily sunning themselves, relaxing.

Lois was less than impressed. Lazy cheetahs.

We got up close and personal with an elephant who wanted a snack.

Lois said "Back off, buddy" and wanted nothing to do with it.

The Giant Panda came out at the end of the day to say goodbye!

Just then, Lois was finally interested in something!

More food! Yay!

We went there knowing we were going for us and not for Lois so while I pick on her a little bit we do understand that she's just WAY too young to get anything out of a trip to the zoo.

That'll have to wait until she turns 5 months old. Then she'll know what's what.

I'm A Good Dad!

Have you guys been spying on me?

This picture isn't of me but it could have been. If it had been a picture of  me and Lois the baby would have been cuter and I probably wouldn't have had pants on.

I'd have had underwear on but if I'm alone in my house? No pants. It's a rule.*

Now here's the thing: People look at this photo and its caption and laugh but really, when the baby is that age? I see absolutely nothing wrong with this kind of "watching the baby."

The baby is contently curled up on daddy's chest where daddy can make sure the baby is okay while daddy entertains himself with a game. Nothing wrong with that!

Now, if the dad continues to play after the baby wakes up, crying and hungry? Yeah, that's a problem. When your baby needs your attention, their needs come first over your wants and you need to pay attention to them.

So here's a picture of me trying to find a way to feed her while keeping my hands free so that I can take pictures/play video games/etc.

Taking a picture of being a bad dad is hard work with no hands free.

*And now you know more about my pants status than you've ever cared to know.

Baby Craze

I have a great friend, (pictured here) who loves our little Lois and calls her the "Cutest baby in the world*." She's really quite amazing and has been a huge help over the past couple of months whenever we've needed a babysitter for a couple of hours. When I had my appendix out she was right there offering up her and her boyfriend (who is also amazing) to watch Lois so that Laura could be at the hospital with me without worry. She's a great friend.

But she's a little baby crazy. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love when she coos at Lois and smiles at her and fusses over her; it all makes me feel happy. It's just that one day I'm completely expecting Lois to cry at 2 AM and as mom sits up to get the baby we'll both hear the voice of our friend float in the night air "It's okay Laura, go back to sleep, I've got this one."

No, I can tell that's not Lois. Please tell me where you hid my baby.

Baby craze is a well-documented phenomenon! I can totally see this happening and our baby being stolen away in the night out of pure love and adoration.***

Everyone is going crazy over our little girl though, not just our friends. The other day we were walking down the street and I happened to notice a scene happen where two large men stood across the sidewalk and a third man had to meekly squeeze by; they didn't make a move to get out of the third man's way at all and glared at him. The moment they saw us coming along the way with Lois in the stroller? They moved aside and both men's faces lit up with huge smiles.

The first man commented, looking at our little girl "That, right there, is an adorable baby. Adorable!"

The second man grinned "That's a Gerber baby right there! Gerber!"

We thanked them of course, proud parents every step of the way. When we had gone by they went back to dominating the sidewalk with glares at all who passed by.

We really do have the cutest baby in the world.

*She's right, of course, though I try not to brag.**
**Who am I kidding? I brag ALL THE TIME!
***I promised not to make her look bad when I asked to use her photo so please allow me to state now that I do not actually believe she will steal our baby. I just believe that she WANTS to steal our baby.****
****Love you, A! 

Blech: The Plague

I've come down with a cold. It's not nasty or really that horrible though I do feel like roasted death that's been left out to sit for too long. My head hurts and my nose is runnier than The Gingerbread Man but I'll be fine. Laura was wonderful and grabbed me some DayQuil for while I'm watching the little girl and some NyQuil for when I want to go to sleep tonight. Yay!

But watching the little girl is what has me worried.

She's being fantastic today, I have to admit. No fussing, just relaxing and letting me know when she's hungry or needs a change. She does want to be held though.

You know what I don't want?

A sick baby.

You know what holding this little girl is probably going to lead to?

A sick baby.

But if I don't hold her, she cries. But if she gets sick she'll cry lots, AND I'll have to use that snot-sucky thing. Ew.

The only solution I see is to let her cry. It's for her own good!

What?

Butthead Baby

I'm going to catch a lot of flak for the title of this post but I'm okay for that; I'm prepared for it even. Bring it on, if you like but first read this post and then tell me you disagree with me if you can.

My baby is wonderful, ahead of the curve for brilliance, and cute. I do not deny, refute, or wish to change any of those three things. My baby, on the other hand, is a baby, and babies are all buttheads. For example, my cute little girl will be sound asleep enjoying the quiet solitude of her Calming Vibrations shaky chair when a small little sound will escape, often becoming a longer, grosser, more wet sounding sound that means it's time to change the baby.

No big deal, really. I've quickly become an experienced diaper changer (and dads, you will too, if you know what's best for you) to the point where the thought of it doesn't even squick me out anymore; I just change the diaper and clean her up.

And then she poops in it again within 5 minutes. Wetter, longer, dirtier.

Butthead.

Or how about when I'm holding her during the day, lulling her to sleep with rocking, lullabies, rocking lullabies and whatever else works. I get her to sleep in my arms and wait five to ten minutes before I put her down to rest so that I can do things like clean the kitchen or * other things that need doing around the house. By the time I stand up her eyes are open and she's wide awake, looking around to find where her comfy pillow went and letting me know that if the comfy pillow doesn't return? Tears. Tears, wailing, and badness that will make Daddy feel like a horrible Daddy.

Oh, and did I mention she's learning how to manipulate Mommy and Daddy? Oh, yes. I noticed the other day that sometimes she cries just to be looked at.

No, seriously.

She's happy because there's a camera pointed at her.

I'll be playing a game with Lois and everything will be hunky-dory. She'll laugh, coo, and have a great time. Laura will ask my opinion on something and so I'll look away for just a few moments. Within those few moments Lois has decided that she needs my attention and she starts to wail like a banshee; signalling that not only is someone going to die, SHE is dying. Of loneliness.

The moment I look back, our eyes meet and she's smiling again, cooing quietly as though nothing was ever wrong with the world. She just wants attention and if I don't give it then once again I am a horrible father and how could I ever think differently?

So not only is my daughter a butthead, she is a diva butthead.

*She took this opportunity to wake up and start crying, going from "full and content" to "starving baby" in the space of 13 seconds. I actually wrote most of the beginning of this with her in my arms but had placed her in her chair just as I started this particular paragraph. I'm typing this footnote roughly 20 minutes later.

A Couple Small Things

This awesomeness showed up in several of my father-related feeds today. Some man created a baby pram that can zoom along at speeds in excess of 49 mph*. Unfortunately I don't even have to ask Mom if it's okay for me to build one of these death machines because my brain is smart and has already labeled this as a "death machine."

Though I would like to point out that the carriage is made of metal. Way to go, super dad! That's thinking ahead.

Chester is king.

In other news, our male cat Chester, mentioned in my last post, is happy that Mom finally has a lap again. He was getting quite upset when Mom was pregnant that he couldn't jump up and cuddle and that when he did he often got kicked by Mom's stomach.

Now he just gets kicked by the squirmy thing that Mom is often holding. He's less than thrilled but he'll take what he can get for now. 

Sometimes I swear I see him staring at the baby, plotting how he once again will become the ruler of this roost.

For now he waits. Biding his time. Plotting, taking what scraps of lap he can get, wherever he can get them, waiting for Mom to put the squalling thing down and let him resume his proper place as King.

"Hey kid, you look delicious."

*It can go 50 mph, which is totally "in excess" of 49.

Sometimes Mommy Fails Too: Electric Boogaloo

Now yes, I'll admit that I will probably be the reason our little girl needs therapy when she gets older. Between finding non-standard ways to stop her crying, wanting to wake her up early because "it's only fair," thinking I'd killed her and generally blogging about her (labeling her a cockblocker, for example, may come back to haunt me some day) will probably lead to some huge psychosis as she grows older and her therapist will look back, point squarely at me and say "Yup, he sure screwed you up real good. Bad daddy."

But I'm not alone. Oh, no. Not at all.

If our child has an identity crisis as she grows older I will shake my head at the therapist and point straight at where the problem comes from.

Mom.

Now it's bad enough that one of our two cats is called "Pretty Cat" and that Lois is often cuddled and cooed at as "pretty girl." That gets switched around often enough that I just laugh. Mom is holding the baby, cuddling up to her, and gently, lovingly says "Oh, you're so adorable Pretty Cat..." and then looks around in hopes that Pretty Cat is actually nearby so she can pretend she was talking to the cat to abate my laughter. Yes, that would be bad enough.

But we have another cat.

And the other day Mom was holding Lois, cooing over her, softly lulling her to sleep; rocking her gently, and uttering nonsense words intended to just quietly tip her into the land of the sleeping. She looked down at her little girl and with love in her eyes gently spoke:

"Chester."

"Yeah, Mom? What's up?"

Sometimes...

Today my little girl went to the doctors for her 2-month check-up and shots.

I wasn't in the room when she received her shots; I drove back home to pick up some diapers because we had forgotten to fill her diaper bag and she needed a change.

From the look on Mom's face though when I got back it was rough.

For her sake, today, I'm going to find nothing funny about the situation* but I'm glad my little girl is inoculated.

*If I were trying, I would say something along the lines of how glad I am that I wasn't there because it means daddy's not the bad guy, but I'm not trying today. For her sake.

Alone With Baby

Last night Lois and I spent the night with mom gone. I won't say I was terrified because I wasn't*.I knew I could handle it**. I was as cool as a cucumber***. Nothing could rattle my cage****.

Well, it's 5:48 AM as I start to write this and I'm awake. Lois is still sleeping soundly after going to sleep around 10 last night, which is a great night of sleep for her. I plan on feeding her around 6 and then we're driving a couple of hours to go to a wedding. Mom left for the wedding last night to be with her great friend who is getting married and it was just easiest for me to be here with Lois.

If something had gone wrong? All her fault. Look at that diabolical smile.

 I had some friends over shortly after Mom left last night so that if something went wrong I could point fingers in their general direction. Thankfully nothing went wrong and now they're completely blame free.

So I'm sitting here now on the verge of 6 AM when I had planned on starting to feed Lois so that I could be out the door by 7 AM. I'm dressed, showered, and ready to go.

But she's asleep.

Two warring instincts inside of me are at play right now:

Go on, honey. Tell everyone what you think of my parenting skills.

One side, well call it the "Good Daddy" side, wants to allow the little girl to get all the rest she can because hey; she needs to get used to sleeping through the night and the little angel's sleep shouldn't be disturbed.

The other side wants to start playing the video of her crying on high volume to wake her up because it's only fair.

Well, 6 AM. Time to decide if I'm a good daddy, a bad daddy, or somewhere in between...



*Lie.
**Lie.
***I am a liar.
****...more than being left alone with the baby.

LMS - "Little Miss Stubborn"

 Back in the days before baby, when baby was just a small little something we saw on a screen, she was known as "Little Miss Stubborn." See, if we needed her to move for the stress test she would stay still. Whatever we needed her to do, she did the opposite.

Well, that trend continues to this day.

She's old enough now that she gets what is called "tummy time." This is when mom and dad torture the baby by putting her on a soft blanket on the floor on her tummy. This is supposed to encourage her to move around a bit,

work her arm, leg, and chest muscles, and eventually lead to crawling.

Instead it leads to one of two things:

1. Crying. Lots of crying. Angry crying that she's been flipped on her tummy and can't move around to see the world. Sad crying that daddy has left her like this for a whole 30 seconds. Crying.

2. Sleeping. Sleeping soundly without a care in the world, unlistening to dad's pleas to move and exercise. Just sleeping.

After a while of crying and then sleeping (I don't actually let her stay on her tummy while she's sleeping for safety's sake) daddy will decide it's time to save her and let her up.

This, inevitably, is when she decides to wake quietly, smile, and start moving.

She's a little jerk who is excellent at manipulating her father's feelings.