Wednesday, April 24, 2013

What's That Smell?

The baby and I were at the WIC office* today, surrounded by children from nine days to four years old. I sat near the back of the room to fill out some forms and sniffed the air. I'm sure the look on my face was unpleasant, assaulted by a smell similar to when the farmers back home were spreading  fertilizer on their crops.

My first reaction, of course, was to pick up my child and make sure she didn't smell like that.

It wasn't her, which meant it was probably the small three year old (or so) behind me. Okay, well, at least it wasn't my baby, and the smell may have been putrid but I figured that once I turned in the forms I could move without seeming too rude.

I turned in the form and moved to the front of the room where all the toys were and children were playing, letting Little Miss Sleepy** watch the other children romp about. She made new friends, smiling while the children babbled at her and waving at them too. It was cute.

But that smell.

It was worse than fertilizer. I felt as though I was back in my teen years, literally shoveling horse (swear word redacted) with my father into the back of a borrowed pick-up truck, knee deep in the stuff so that I could get to the older "better" (my father assured me) stuff. I vaguely remember that he wasn't getting the stuff in the back but maybe I'm wrong.

Is it going to be like this for the next four or five years? Surrounded by other children? Smelling that smell? Will I ever get used to it? Will I become so blase about it that I'll allow my little girl to run around with fertilizer in her diaper, not even caring to change it?

Because now, almost 9 months into it, let me say simply that I'm not there yet. Not yet. Hopefully not ever.


*Yes, I am applying for assistance to make sure that we have all the food that we need for the little one. I am not ashamed of this.

**She was adorably trying to stay awake throughout the entire appointment, cute and smiley but with a thousand-yard stare.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Missing The Baby

I've been told by a few people that they're missing the baby, that I need to post more, and that they need their baby fix. I absolutely understand the need for the baby fix and I apologize for the lack of updates but understand: I'm missing my baby too.

Unfortunately I have been holed up in the hospital since Wednesday. I get to see my lovely lady and my most magnificent baby a bit during the day but Mommy is juggling a full schedule and taking care of the baby on her own so I mostly spend the day here, relaxing and wondering if they're going to get around to making me better.

I promise there will be adorable updates soon but I just have to get home, first.

I miss my ladies.

Monday, April 15, 2013

100th Post! "Dada."

She just said it, looking at me, clear as day. "Dada."


The little toe-sucker loves me!

Friday, April 12, 2013

My Baby's Brain Is Full

I've finally figured out why my little girl doesn't yet say 'dada' with any frequency and why she suddenly stopped chanting 'mama' a week or so ago:

She has a small brain.

I don't mean small for her size or her age. Nah, that's probably right along the normal track and she's as healthy as a parent could hope. No worries there.

Simply put, her vocabulary capability is at one word right now. She can only remember one word at a time and equate it with something in the real world. A week or so ago it was mama and now it's cat. Maybe next week I'll be lucky and it'll be dada but it's more likely to be chair or Pomplamoose.

If you're wondering, I'm absolutely serious about the 'cat' thing. My little girl was sitting in her playpen the other day and turned around to see Chester (seen below) sitting nearby. She grinned and cooed as she usually does (she is fascinated by the furry little beasts) and then said, clear as day, "Ca" while pointing at him.

If it had just been once I would have laughed it off as coincidence but the fact of the matter is she continued to look at him and say "ca," plus, later, she did the same thing. Several times.

Unfortunately I was only able to get this on camera once and the video contains a shot of my big ol' belly, which I don't really care to share with you all.

Then, when Grandma Pam came over to babysit for a while so that she could get some baby time and I could go grocery shopping without having to worry about the little one (so appreciated), the word cat was not said a single time. Oh sure, lots of babbling, but no cat.

It was the same story when Mommy came home later that night: Lots of adorable baby babble but no cat.

I think this little girl might be trying to make me look insane. She's pulling a Michigan J. Frog on me!

It's okay though. She assured me earlier that she would never do that.

It's not like she's evil or anything.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

It's Been Three Minutes

Tonight, daddy had the adventure of watching the baby all alone. Mommy was co-chair for some really cool science event thing over at the school and had to be at the dinner/event all night. It's 9:17 and she's not home quite yet.

9:17. A few minutes ago it was 9:13. At 9:13 I put Lois to bed. She had her bath at 7:30, a bottle, and some cuddle-time with daddy but then it was well past her bedtime and so I picked her up, kissed her goodnight, and put her in her crib.

It's 9:18 now. Only 5 minutes of crying. Only 5 minutes. May as well say "only a bear attack." This little girl is ripping my heart out with her crying but I have to be strong. She's fine, not hurt at all, and needs to go to sleep. She's probably even over-tired and just needs sleep, which is why she's crying.

It's 9:20 now. 7 minutes. I should go rescue her. That would be the right thing to do. Right?


EDIT: 34 minutes later, the baby sleeps.

She says it is and she's cute, so it must be true.

There's Supposed To Be A Video Here

Let's pretend there's a video right here and that it's of my baby babbling away while swinging in her swing. She's saying things like "Ba ba ba" and "Ga ga ga" or even, maybe, "Da da da." It's adorable and you love it because my daughter is so amazingly cute.

Now let's talk about what really happened and why my baby is a jerk.

She's swinging in her swing this morning, back and forth, back and forth, babbling to herself. It's amazingly adorable. I take out the camera from the other side of the room, turn it toward her and hit the record button.

She falls asleep.

No, seriously. Her eyes close immediately as I hit the record button and the only noise she's making is the faintest whisper of her breathing. Now, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth; sleeping baby means I can clean the house*, make a grocery list*, and generally get my chores done.* Yay!

I turn off the camera and within seconds her eyes snap open, she starts babbling and she's not tired at all. My eyes narrow a I look at this scene with disbelief but hey, she's babbling again so I should grab a video of it to show Mommy, if not the entire world.

I turn on the camera and point it at her without hitting record. She smiles, coos, babbles, and continues entertaining herself in the swing. It's adorable. I hit record and she stops everything. She lays back, looking up at the ceiling without doing anything. Someone watching the video would think that I'm recording a doll, she's moving so little.

I record for a good 15 seconds, hoping she'll snap back into action, but nothing, so I turn the camera off, put it down, and turn away.

That's when I hear, from behind me, this little jerk say "Da da da da."


*Play video games.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Dance For Me, My Minions!

She still doesn't say "dada." It's okay though, since she has completely forgotten how to say "mama" which puts us back on even footing in the "Who's the better parent" game.

That's totally a game that parents play, right?


This morning I put on Maclemore's Thrift Shop and danced around like an idiot. I mostly did it to get the song stuck in Laura's head but when I saw that my dancing made my little babygirl smile wider than a thing that is really wide, I continued my stupid dancing*. I love making her smile and am happy to be an idiot to make her smile.

The song came to an end, as songs tend to do (unless you're doing something silly like using and I stopped dancing, at which point the baby's smile turned to a frown and after a few more moments the frown turned into tears and wailing as though I had stolen her favorite toy and thrown it down the sink.

I swear that the look on her face said it clearly; if I did not dance for her entertainment I was a bad daddy and that she wouldn't love me anymore. She would never say 'dada' and would, in fact, pick up a tip from a show she hasn't seen and call me "not the mama!"

I'm not going to spoil this child, let me make that clear. That being said, it's really difficult to type this up while dancing for her and I don't know when I can stop dancing.

*The nice thing about having a baby is that to her I am the best dancer in the world.

Friday, April 5, 2013

My Baby Genius (or "My EVIL Baby Genius")

Lois has been well-versed in holding her own bottle for several months now. I taught her very early to reach out and hold the bottle in her hands while drinking from it, knowing that this skill would save us having to hold it constantly every day for several months. This meant I could hold her in the crook of my arm while she held her own bottle, leaving my hands free to hold the XBox 360 controller.

Don't judge me.

Lately she seems to be testing us. She'll be obviously hungry, reach out for the bottle, and then retract her tiny hands as soon as the bottle is in her mouth, looking at me as though to say "What are you going to do about it? You hold it now."

If I dare to let go, even gently placing it somewhere so that it's held in her mouth, she will turn her head, dislodging the bottle, and then cry that I've now taken away her food source. I am suddenly a bad daddy because I won't hold her bottle for her, something I haven't had to do in probably 4 months or more.

(Speaking of which, she just threw her bottle on the floor. I'll be right back.)

I place it gently back in her mouth and her hands are held as far away as she can get them from the bottle, literally, as though she knows exactly what I want from her and she has decided to show me that there is absolutely no way I can get her to do what we both know I want her to do.

At 8 months old* she is already learning the fine art of parental manipulation. It takes a lot of will to just keep placing the bottle back in place, not holding it there, as she cries about how horrible of a dad I am.

She is evil.

We'll get along well when she grows up, I think.

Seen here: The face of pure evil. In monkey sleepwear.

*Oh my dear sweet lord Superman. How is she already 8 months old?

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Things I Say To The Baby

Things I have said within the last three days to the baby that have made Laura facepalm:

  • *thunk* "You're really bad at catching, baby-girl."
  • "Well, at least I don't have to worry about knocking any teeth out."
  • "Well played, baby. Well played, indeed."
  • "Use the Fuss, baby."
    • This one was said at the exact same time by both of us.
  • "You don't catch with your face!"
  • "You've only got one tooth in your head! What are you, Southern?!"
"I caught it!"