First Book

From 10/26/2011

Yes, I am a horrible parent an just now got around to reading my first full book to the dot.  For the record, there were a few abortive attempts prior to this.

For my first selection, I went with that classic of all time, Mr. Happy by Roger Hargreaves.

Who remembers this one?  Show of hands

My original attempts had been stymied by the dot's ill-timed crying fits that always seemed to coincide with reading.  Apparently, finishing a good four ounces necessitates immediately -- and indeed, sometimes concurrently -- jettisoning an equal amount.  This would seem to be a traumatic experience due to the inherent attachment the dot has to her processed food.

It would seem that the proper way to read to a baby is to push through the screaming until she passes out from hypoxia, then continue reading to her unconscious form.

That might be a slight exaggeration.

See, she's not actually blue

It is, however, a good example of cooperative parenting.  One parent must hold the dot and the book while the other parent maintains proper pacifier placement.


Addendum:  Another technique which has since proven effective is to place the dot on her stomach.  This not only eliminates the necessity of a partner, but also provides an opportunity for neck exercise.

On her eccentric way

The dot has proven to be just as unconventional as her father.  One can only assume her natural preference for second shift is genetic, as is her preference of squeaky aliens to "Brahms Lullaby"-playing bears.

Don't laugh:  it works.

Apparently taste in music is also inherited.  I can arrive at no other conclusion from the fact that this makes her sleep while this makes her fussy until this plays, at which point she falls back to sleep.  Of course, I like Kemper Crabb, too, but at least I can determine that her musical taste does not wholly come from the beloved.

Obviously, I shall someday pay for this.  So I'll enjoy it while I can.

10/23/2011  Addendum:  According to the beloved, all dots are simply fascinated by symmetrical faces.  Ergo, I believe it is time to unpack all my alien memorabilia and stash it all over the room.  There has been some debate as to the wisdom of this idea, however, I am confident its merits will be borne out by time.

Week 1

Just so everyone knows that the beloved is not the only one who can post cute baby pictures:

Week 1 has come and gone.  The beloved is insisting this qualifies as a milestone, but I think I'll wait until one month to use that term.

In the past week, I have learned:

1)  Picture above is quite rare, because the squirt doesn't like her arms swaddled.  Apparently she had enough of that after 9 months.

2)  Girls are just as dangerous to change as boys.  After the following incident, I have acquired a face shield in case I don't get my hand up in time during another 10-inch fire-hose incident.

            Me (dripping tan-ish poop onto the changing table): "Well, I'm glad that happened before I took my gloves off."

            The beloved (with incredulous look on face): "Why do you glove up to change your own daughter's diaper?"

            Me (with equally incredulous look on face): "What part of 'ACK! She's spraying crap everywhere!' did you not catch?"

3)  Babies can, in fact, look just like their ultrasounds.  Fat cheeks + lots of hair + squished nose = cute baby.

4)  C-section babies are cuter.  No squished head that has to even out later.

5)  Never send a new father grocery shopping.  Babies absorb daddies' brains, too.  Corollary:  Instant coffee is lighter than ground.

6)  Skype-ing weddings can work quite well.

7)  The proper way to induce pooping is to change the diaper.

8)  Possibly the most important, new fathers should be prepared to deal with thoroughly irrational behavior and expectations.  The laws of non-contradiction no longer apply.  And the old saying "Insanity is doing the same thing twice expecting different results" can be ignored for the indefinite duration.

These are the important facts of my current situation.  If any are of assistance to any hypothetical soon-to-be first time fathers (you know who you are), then perhaps my suffering is not in vain.


Also, for the record, number 8, was approved by the beloved.