Things That Are Cute When A Baby Does Them That Aren't Cute When An Adult Does Them

Part one in a nearly infinite series.

When my baby lets loose indiscriminately with gas, onlookers will laugh and coo at the baby. Some will even try to incite her into doing it again, whether to belch or release noxious fumes from elsewhere.

When I do the same thing, I'm looked at like a leper. If I do it while holding the baby, I'm looked at like a leper who just sneezed and lost his nose.

How in the world can this be fair? I've been practicing much longer than she has, and am therefor obviously better at both things! It should be cuter and funnier when I do it!

What?

Picture Post!

I feel like my words are broken today, so instead of subjecting you to them I will just show you adorable baby photos, you lucky people, you!

Secret Agent Baby is Prepared for Anything!

"Foot, Daddy! Foot!"

Baby Thoughts: I'm comfy! Cat Thoughts: Really? I hate you all so much.

Lois is very happy about her new dolly from Great Grandma Honey!

A Night Without Baby

For Valentine's Day our friends Will and Amanda invited us out to Chateau Morrisette, a wonderful local winery, for a wine tasting and then a Valentine's wine and chocolate pairing hosted upstairs in this great little area that seems reserved for such things. The ambiance was great and it was a fantastic night! You can read Laura's version of this great night, complete with better photos, right here!

Here is where I'm going to sound like an absolutely horrible father, but this blog is called "Father Fails," after all, so I guess it's only fair:

It was really nice to have a beautiful night out with Laura and friends and not have to worry about the baby, who was safe and warm with Grammie Pam and Grandpa Dan. They had taken our cure little bundle to their house for the night to watch her while we all enjoyed ourselves.

Aren't they awesome?

So, while the four of us got tipsy* on some really great wines, and our mouths exploded with flavor during the chocolate tasting, we didn't have to negotiate with a crying baby, or fuss with her carrier to make sure she was somewhere safe. We could have a quiet, enjoyable evening out with friends, without even a moment of concern.

Pure. Bliss.

The funniest part though is how often I looked around for her, trying to find her, worried that we had suddenly, somehow, forgotten the baby somewhere. A spike of fear would shoot through my heart as I wondered, looking about wildly, "Did I leave her in the car?!" Immediately this would be followed by me feeling like an idiot and laughing at myself.

And, I would like to point out, this flash of worry was before I had had any wine. Once the wine was flowing my brain calmed down but before that? I was looking for the baby at least once every two or three minutes.

Does that make me a good dad, or a bad one? Worried about my daughter, my first thought is whether or not I left her in the car, as though I would do something like that. My second thought, when I didn't quickly correct myself was, "Oh my lord, is she at HOME?!"

But Grammy and Grandpa kept her safe and happy. Because they are awesome!

By the end of the night, only slightly sloshed, we came home, the sleepy baby ready for bed, mom, dad and friends relaxing in the living room. It was a lovely evening out, enjoyed with friends, sans baby.

I would say I'm horrible for enjoying it so much, the feeling of being baby-free, but I think parents would agree that it doesn't happen much so I should enjoy it as often as I possibly can.

Parents? Back me up, here.


*Actually, the only two to get even a little tipsy were me and Amanda. We're lightweights. I have no reasonable explanation as to why this is true for me.

Hack, Wheeze, Cough, Sneeze

Our poor little girl is not sleeping right now because she has a cold and apparently a side-effect of a cold is this feeling of needing to keep daddy awake all night. This will be two nights in a row now but she seems to be getting better so hopefully (keeping my fingers crossed) she will be able to sleep normal tomorrow night.

I took some pictures of her first cold. What would that entail, you ask?

Well, let's just say I'm not sharing the photos. I'd rather not rank first on Google for "baby boogers*." The pictures I've taken so far, and the one video? Gross. Ew. The fact that I've wiped her nose all day long and probably deforested a small island nation with the amount of tissues I've used?

Look, guys, all I can say is this: If you're going to be a dad, get used to grossness. If you can't get used to grossness, have a very loving and understanding partner who won't kill you when you say for the hundredth time that you just can't handle it.

She'll kill you on the hundred and first time, but at least you survived that long.

*I decided to see what the first link on Google would be if I googled "baby Boogers" and so there you go! Safe for work and life, I promise.

I'm Concerned...

So today was an experience.

We had some problems in the past, feeding Lois solid food, and we stopped for a little while since she just wasn't getting the way the mechanics of the situations work. Our doctor, whom I adore, said that one day Lois will just kind of "get it" and not to worry too much about it but at least try every couple of days and see how it goes.

I can assure you that today was not that day.

This bib was a present from Grammy and Poppy on their last visit!

We start with a happy baby in the high chair. As you can see she is wearing a bee-autiful little bib and a smile. She was ready for this experiment and happy to be a part of it.

Little did either of us know that what we would be experiencing today would be the downfall of hope.

I mean, just look at that innocent smile on her face. She looks ready for this, doesn't she? I think she does. She thought she was.

We were so wrong.

YUM! (I can't even type that with a straight face.)

I decided that for our first course we would have banana so I took a banana, smooshed it up really well with a fork and went "eww."

No, really. Look at that photo. How is that appetizing? I put the spoon in that shot so that you'd have something else to look at. Seriously, as I took the picture I said to myself "Self, I better put a spoon in the mushed banana so that it's not just a big thing of grossness."

But I'll admit, it smelled wonderful. Nice ripe banana smell, which is awesome if you like that kind of thing.

It did not go so well.

I have determined that my baby is never going to eat solid food and will live on in her life feeding off of a liquid diet.

Don't get me wrong, she can probably learn to eat solid foods without a problem! She'll get there if we keep trying. She's smart.

But. The. Mess.

That bib? Very helpful. If it weren't there I think the only option would be to take the shirt she's wearing and burn it, then scrub her down with some industrial strength grease cleaner. As it is I believe it will need three or eight cycles through the washer before the mashed in bananas are ever fully taken out of it and she will smell of bananas right up until the next time she poops. The bib will need a wash too but since that was the mess I saw being created while I fed Lois I cleaned it up as we went along. Underneath it was a different story.

I didn't think smashed bananas could look grosser than the picture I posted above. I was wrong.

And if you want to see something adorable and gross, here's a video of how the feeding went. I will warn you once more, this is kind of gross*:

*As a parent this is definitely not that gross since I also clean up the other end (*shudder* Ew) but non-parents might find something like this video of a baby constantly spitting out food to be a little much to handle. Non-parents are wussies. There, I said it. Wussies.

Parenting or Porn Two: Parent Harder

Sometimes the things you say as a parent can be a bit odd when taken out of context.

Here are a few more gems of parenting that make me feel like an absolutely horrible father:

• "That's the wrong hole!" (My baby, just today, tried shoving her bottle up her nose.)
• "Yeah, she goes down real easy." (To sleep, obviously!)
• "Stop playing with it and suck, already!"(Bottle, usually, and said quite often.)
• "Stop laughing while I'm doing that!" (When I'm cleaning her up from her diaper she likes to laugh and it's just. disturbing.)
• "Stop acting like you don't want it. You know you want it. Take it!" (Again, her bottle. I was disturbed with myself after laughing at this one.)

And I think I'll stop there....

6 Month Check-Up!

Our baby is six months old and as such we went to the doctor's today for a check-up.

Now, the doctor tells us our baby is perfect and I believe her because she's a doctor and I'm not but I have some doubts. Serious ones that dwell heavily upon my soul and mind. Not just doubts, but Doubts. You can hear the capital "D" when I pronounce it, and the "b" too for that matter.

Lovingly titled "Derp."

Our baby is cute and there's no denying that. She's even pretty smart as far as language skills go. She says "mum" quite frequently now. Not a whisper on "dada" though I think she might have called me "dud." I'm not sure.

She's been around for six whole months though and still hasn't fully grasped this whole, well, grasping thing yet. She'll reach out for the thing she wants, get her little fingers around it, pull it toward her mouth and drop it. Then she cries because the mean toy obviously jumped out of her hand and ran for freedom instead of being inserted into her mouth so she could get to know it better. She doesn't yet understand that she needs to hold onto things to get them all the way into her mouth. Shouldn't she have gotten that by like, three weeks old? Come on, kiddo, you're lagging behind!

Keep stretching, kiddo! Grow taller! 

And the doctor said that Lois is doing well for her length*, weight, and overall physical development but who says? I'm looking at this little short thing and I am certain she will never play in the NBA, ensuring her mom and I a well-taken-care-of old age with her NBA salary**.

Also, according to her doctor whom, although I love her as our doctor, is starting to make me wonder where she got our degree, our daughter has only put on a couple of pounds since the last check-up. I cry foul on this! I have lifted that child every single day of her life for some amount of time or another, except maybe the couple of days I was laid up in the hospital with appendicitis. I am certain that in the last two months this little monster has put on at least 15, maybe 20 pounds. Without a doubt, I am sure of it and I think their scale must be broken. I should let them know.

See what the shirt says? It's true.

And, lastly, the doctor did not address the fact that we have a baby who is apparently 97% drool. I'd be concerned about this but from what I'm told we're actually lucky as most babies are anywhere between 99% and 99.9% drool.

Of course, if this is my biggest complaint about our baby who has a happy disposition, sleeps through the night almost every night without trouble, eats regularly, and rarely fusses except when she needs to be changed or is hungry?

I'm the luckiest daddy in the whole wide world.

Now we just have to work on that whole "Dada" thing. Then my job is over. Right? That's how that works?

If you'd like to see Mom's take on the whole thing, with cuteness and sweet words, go read "Growing! She's GROWING!" which is hosted by Mom's new blog, "I'm Drawing A Blank Here."
*Apparently they call it "length" before the child can stand instead of "height," which I find weird. If I suddenly lose the use of my legs will they measure my length instead of my height? I don't ever want to find out.

**Look, my daughter has about as much chance of getting into the NBA as your son does, which is to say almost zero, so stop trying to crush my dreams here!

The Cuteness, It Burns!

Who's the most adorable baby ever?

I think the last time we talked about tummy time it was still called tummy torture time. The poor girl hated being on her stomach, crying her little eyes out and making me feel like a horrible daddy.

Now? Well, she's not up to crawling yet for one reason or another but as you can see to the left she doesn't find it torture anymore. She smiles, laughs, and smashes her face into the floor over and over again, giggling.

I'm not sure if that means there's something wrong with my baby or of it's perfectly normal but I'm willing to bet it's on this side of normality. It's actually pretty hilarious, laying in front of her as she giggles and bashes her face into the floor while trying to shove herself forward. I put her on blankets or pillows to make sure she's not actually hurting herself and she seems to be having some kind of fun, so I just let her keep beating herself up. While laughing. Does that make me horrible?

The most adorable sad baby bear ever.

 As a matter of fact, I tend to laugh at my daughter a lot when I should probably feel bad or be working hard to console her.

Take this picture to the left here. My thought when I saw a crying baby in an adorable bear costume was "Adorable, grab the camera," not "I should do something to help my daughter."

But look at that photo. Totally worth it, wasn't it?

In the end, there really aren't a whole lot of photos of her crying though. It's just so rare that it's much easier to get a picture of a happy baby than a sad baby, or even a pouting one. She's absolutely amazing.

I'M ADORABLE!

Very Brief

My daughter is farting and then laughing at herself.

Add that to the accomplishments of being six months old.

Sometimes It's Amazing...

Lois is now six months old. Six whole months. So much has changed for her in those six months that it's amazing to think about.

Day One: Can cry, eat (with difficulty), and poop. That's seriously it. Nothing else. Oh. Blink. She could blink. The crying takes up most hours of wakefulness, second only with pooping, followed by eating. She had trouble eating back then so she could barely even do four things. No smiling, no cooing, no laughter and no anything to tell us parents that we're good parents.

At roughly day 180? She can move around, scooching around on her back, reach out and grab things, grab and hold her own bottle (though sometimes, to be honest, she shoves it into her eye), and she can babble. More than babble, she can actively say "Mum."

Yes, that means Mom won the first parenting point, getting Lois to call for her first. Well played, mommy. Well played.

But Lois can also do things like sleep through the night, play quietly with her toys on her own, be on her stomach without throwing a fit, and she smiles all the time. She laughs continuously. She's a happy baby and she loves the world around her. She also watches the fish, actively following them with her eyes as they dart around the tank.

It's amazing what six months can do.

I guess we'll see what the next six months bring!