good news; bad news

The bad news is I haven't blogged in weeks. The good news is, in that time I haven't severely injured my son. Go ME!

So, we are letting cuddlebunnies "cry it out." For the uninitiated this is when your baby starts crying at night, you lie in bed staring at the monitor and go, "OMG STFU!" but in your whisper (2000) voice as you don't want the baby more awakey.

CIO is the new strategy for this week. The old strategy was to go in there every time he cried, give him a bottle, check for boogeyman, etc. I was ok with this, but then I started to get the feeling he was just messing with me. Like he was perfectly fine, but preferred to be held and rocked and sung They Might Be Giants songs*. I was ok with that too, because before he'd fall asleep rather quickly, I'd put him down and he'd be out for the night. BUT THEN, it was like TMBG and MILK weren't good enough and he'd kind of scream at me the whole time. (I know this could be way clearer, but I'll be damned if I'm going back to edit.) Finally, I'd get him to fall asleep and I'd gingerly put him back in his crib and oh how he'd scream and scream. He'd be PISSED. After repeating the process 2 or 3 times this becomes really stressful. So, for the sake of the family, we're trying to let him cry. Let the tears roll down his face. And if the sun comes out tomorrow - dang, who knows Hootie lyrics? Comment below.

Anyway, CIO was made for me as YOU DON'T DO ANYTHING! All I have to do is sit there and feel the crushing guilt of ignoring my first born son. That's it! Ok, if he cries for 5 minutes, I have to get up, go in, rub his back, give him his blankie, tell him everything's going to be all right, fist bump, leave the room. If he keeps crying, next time I wait for 10 minutes. After that time, if he's still crying 10 to 15 minutes later the book says he might not be ready for CIO.

I'm don't want to jinx it, but it's been going pretty well. Last night he got to phase 3, but it was kind of tainted because he wasn't crying the whole time, more falling asleep for a minute or two, cry for a minute, rinse and repeat. (Which reminds me. Who washes their hair twice in one shower? That's f'ed up.)

It is so easy, but so hard. You do feel guilty. But, best part, next morning HE STILL LOVES YOU! It's fantastic. It's like he can't remember your negligence in the least. Silly, undeveloped baby brain!

<No Jinx>It has absolutely made bedtime easier. I carry him in, he puts his thumb in his mouth, grabs his blanket and starts sleeping pretty much immediately.</No Jinx>

There you have it. That's how you parent. PA-POW!

Be sure to remember to crow loudly after new week's, Dear God, my child is a holy non-sleeping terror.

*Sadly, he's grown tired of Randy Newman. We're on TMBG and some Kinks. Stop your sobbing works - hand to God.

Cuddlebunnies wants to know . . .

three teeth

Lincoln has 3 teeth now. Two of which he likes to grind together. Apparently, babies don't have the phrase "nails on a chalkboard" as part of their vernacular. Yowsers.

I have been busy. I am trying to rsync files to my parents' computer remotely. This is DEFCON 3 computer dorkery! BEWARE! So, I get kind of obsessed with figuring out how to do it. I have told you before, but back your stuff up. Burn it to a DVD. Go. Now. You will lose it. It's just the way life is. And if you don't lose it, it will only be because you have a nearby backup.

What else is new? Hmmm, back to LL. He crawls now and does calculus, so that's cool. He kissed the baby on a diaper box. OH and I'm the worst father ever.

I thought I could grab his bottle from across the hall without him doing any damage to himself. Long story short, he touched the space heater. OMG. And he had a cold, so his daddy-induced screams of pain were kind of muted by his laryngitis. It made me cry. And then he got tiny little blisters on his tiny little hands and the shame and guilt of a million Catholics descends on me whenever I see his right hand. For serious. The next day I emailed a buddy and asked him to tell me that he too had irreparably harmed one of his children, even if it was a lie. I'm not sure, but I think he still loves me. I hope.

the baby snores

That's my NEW new band name. It reads as a sentence or a phrase and that interpretation is indeed up to the listener.

Anyway, the baby was snoring and I thought how cute it was. That led me to my new band name. I mean, my band isn't going to be tough or skilled. The best I can hope for is cute.

Speaking of the baby, he is snoring right now. A little, car ride induced nap. Odd in that he hates napping. He's in his car seat with his George Mallory-style baby parka on. This is a difficult time to be a father. Do I try to disrobe him/remove him from his carseat or do I let sleeping babies lie and leave him be until he wakes up. Normally, it's one-in-the-same as he'll only nap for 5 minutes, but this nap continues.

These are the pressures of fatherhood my friends. Tread carefully.

she: Have a good night.

me: Allll right.

You know when somebody says something (aside, you know when you first-born son took off your "a" key somehow. He got his tiny finger under there and pop goes the article!) and it's not right. I mean, there was no way for her to know I wasn't leaving, just going to the bathroom. And it was late, seemingly I should have been going to bed. Not bed, but home.

Allll right. Now the baby is crying (sick). Ah. This is one of those weeks where the baby is determined that I get 8 hours sleep - total. Maybe I'll just pass out on the couch.

we are all belong

Yes! Another post. That's like win-win-win-win-win-win. Is that how many readers I have? No time for math right now.

You know what sucks? Rain. It's raining lots meaning my sprinkler system is being pushed back and making me question the very nature of the installation - what with all the rain and all. Good news is I will have a rain sensor. Not on my person, but as part of the sprinkler system. So when it rains, the system will fall silent . . .

Anyway, we're making our little baby a sissy. Well, he cries at night sometimes and off we go, scurrying about like a gaggle of geishas. Now there are many points along the "baby crying at night" spectrum from "I never let a baby cry" to "STFU Baby!" and I suppose we fall somewhere in between. Well, I am a little tougher, but I know theMomica will be running in there any second, so if I'm awake and she's not, I'll try to get to him first.

So, I'm an enabler. And I have to admit I like my rocking chair time with him. Holding a sleeping baby has got to be one of the best things there is. Especially when they get a little weight to them. It's so cozy.

At any rate, he calls. I will see you later.

oh, so if your boyfriend ignores you for weeks, does that mean he doesn't love you?

So, I have neglected you and for that, apologies. I have been busy with my misshapen-headed kid. Oh, and his neck muscles are stronger on one side than the other. That condition has a fancy name like offsetted neckitis or something, but I can't recall what it is. Don't worry, everything is cool.

Whenever we run into baby issues, I think of cave baby. What would have happened for cave baby in this situation? Were there cave baby physical therapists that could teach you twice-daily stretches for cave baby's neck? Hmm, doubtful. Now, I think his neck thing was more pronounced before and was gradually getting better, but we can help things along.

As to his head, I have a substantial melon, so no sympathy here. I guess not so much lying on his back. Now, cave baby was f'ed here. I mean, those cave floors are HARD. I imagine there were a lot of misshapen-headed cave babies running around. If they could, with their giant balance-compromising noggins.

And he's had some earaches. Earaches are babies natural-born enemies. Babies need to retreat to there fortresses of solitude and try to figure out a way to combat these things.

Oh, and he can't roll right. He's like reverse Zoolander cave baby. He CAN roll right, but prefers left. Parenting is hard, yo. And I am only able to keep track of a few things at a time, therefore, missing a lot. My checklist is like:

1. Laughs at my [baby] jokes? check (Like his moms he does not find my talking jokes funny unless I use some horrible over-the-top accent. And that sentence structure is kind of messed up, only the baby laughs, theMonica is unimpressed by accents.)

2. Does baby stuff. check You know, like eat, sleep, poop. He eats a lot of sweet potatoes, which is potato non grato around me. He hearts them. Not so much peas. Peas I'll eat, but I never got them. Like, peas, what up whichu? Peas - We're bland! But we're tiny green balls, which is cool if you're into that kind of thing. Right? Who's with me?

So, lest you think he's falling apart, here he is trying to hypnotize himself. Look deep into my eyes cave baby.

your baby doesn't love you, anymore

Oh, dang, it's Tuesday isn't it? F. I was sitting around thinking it was Wednesday and how I was going to have exciting Bolts playoff soccer tomorrow night. But, alas, the smell of blood is in the distance and I will have to wait another night for sweet, sweet, victory. And hey, look at that, do some dishes and viola'! it's Wednesday now. I guess, in a way, that makes me psychic, no?

So, everybody loves Dognutz, yes? Well, good. It is true that I got about 50 times the visitors on that website than I get here, toiling away in my blogger sweatshop. Man, those were good times indeed. Who cares if I was a dork (besides Bronwyn?)? Actually, I think a lot of chicks cared, a lot. Who's laughing now Hunchback??

Anyway,the title . . . yes, so the baby, doesn't love me anymore. He doesn't need me. Well, he doesn't now ALWAYS need my sandman powers of sleep persuasion. That is good. I wasn't keen on rocking a 14-year old to sleep in 2024, but it's sad nonetheless. In the plus ledger, he thinks I am f'ing hilarious. For serious. My material KILLS with that kid. It only makes me love him all the more. But, we'll see if it lasts past his 6-month birthday. If he's like a girlfriend/future wife, he won't find me funny after 6 months. That's the general rule for any bf/gf-type situation. Matter of fact, I think RS2 is the only person to find me funny over more than a 6-month period. And she shattered that record at like 30+ years. Things were waining there for awhile, but then RS4 came along and was comedic gold! 100,000 bonus points to the both of them.

the father, the son, the holy vacuum

Say you have this baby and he's screaming his head off something fierce. It's not the casual kind of screaming his head off. It's like he's really getting into it - using his lower body and everything. And let's further say that you've done all the standard things: feed, change, burp, asked him wtf was wrong, etc. But try as you might to not be a failure as a parent, you can't soothe him. Baby is angry; baby will not be silenced!

What do you do? House work! That is the only thing that will soothe the baby. Well, not any housework mind you, if you start watering the plans, he's sure not going to care. That's his prerogative. He can live how he wants to live. But, if you decide to do that special piece of housework he will reward you with silence and a calm look in his eye. You need to fire up the vacuum.

I read this book, "The Happiest Baby on the Block." The basic premise is that infants really should have a 4th trimester/quarter in utero, but if they did, baby's head would be too big to be born. So, the trade-off is that the baby gets born with it's super-huge brain (animal-wise), but mom and dad have to teach the baby how to soothe him or herself.

To achieve this, the book suggests swaddling, swinging, sucking and running the vacuum. Well, shushing. The sssshhhhh/white noise sound is reminiscent of the womb. Apparently, it's very loud in there what with the heartbeat and the kids and their rap music.

Now, since I don't have the magic milk, I have to use any gimic available to me. There are times when he's screaming, I turn on the vacuum and he looks like, "Hey, what's that? Mom? Cool. I'm just going to relax now." It's magic.

After a while, you're running the vacuum a lot and it just makes more sense to buy an mp3 off of Amazon with the same sound. And there you have it. The story of why there is a one-square foot area of my carpet upstairs on which you could perform surgery.

may there be no confusion

a baby story

Monday (3/1) theMonica and I went to the doc to have a consultation. The situation was that the week prior the ultrasound machine was estimating the baby at 9.5 lbs. 9.5 lbs + past due date is a red flag in the world of baby doctors. On the plus side, theMonica was 2 cm dilated and her cervix was “ripe,” meaning it was thinned out. (Good band name for you, for free, Ripened Cervix; you’re welcome!). We knew this going in and over the preceding weekend theMonica decided to be induced rather than schedule a c-section. Frankly, it had been a toss-up.

Monday at 9 pm we get to the Birthing Center and proceed to watch about 20 minutes of the Cavs game in the waiting room lobby. Yah, it’s a hospital, so you can’t just go and do something when, you know, you’re supposed to. We checked into our room and got theMonica all situated. Soon after the pitocin was administered and theMonica’s water was broken. Then . . . contractions.

Apparently, contractions aren’t fun. Nope, no fun at all. I felt great. Really excited and pain free! theMonica was not bah-da-da-bah-bah lovin’ it though. On the happy to horribly grimaced face scale, she was about a severely grimaced. The anesthesiologist put in the epidural to alleviate that and it was time to watch some comedy central! Well, you know, after our “nap.” (How exactly you’re expected to nap during this, I’m not sure.) This was about 3 am-ish. By about, 5 am, theMonica got a second loading dose of painkiller, but it wasn’t as effective as the first go-round. The NEXT go-round was even less so. Finally, theMonica asked for some more of the good stuff. I was a little worried that the baby would come out smoking a tiny baby joint or something. Not really, I wanted her to feel better, but the baby was almost ready to bust out and they wanted her to be able to feel when to push. All of this is well and good, but your wife's in pain - lots and lots of pain. And boy is it a powerless feeling watching her go through those labor pains. Surely, I did my best. I was using all my “A” comedic material in there. I told her to picture babies effortlessly flying out of v-jays. Focus on that. But really, I doubt she heard anything that I was saying. I just kept telling her to breathe deep. Stay the course! Go the distance!

FINALLY, (12+ hours later) the baby was “in position”. And theMonica began to push. Now, don’t get me wrong; I was nervous I wouldn’t be able to watch a baby coming out of theMonica’s lady bits. I hadn't eaten in a long time and I was feeling a little light-headed to begin with. But I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the coolest thing ever. After one pushing contraction, I could already see part of the baby’s head. The nurses were telling theMonica how great she was doing. I thought they were just saying that because they were nice, but eventually they told her she might want to lay off so the baby didn’t get there before her doctor did. That's when I started to get excited.

Eventually her doctor strolls in and is all pumped with how great everything is going. theMonica’s looking at me like, “What have we gotten ourselves into?” And I’m all like, “Dude, there’s a baby’s head right there,” and pointing at her nether-regions. And yah, it’s the baby’s head, but like unbeknownst to you like only one-eighth of it. But you’re thinking, “Oh, there’s the head,” and the doctor starts pulling and you go, “OH! THERE’S the head. Dang!” The nurse quickly suctioned and as the doc pulled the baby some more and his lungs cleared I heard the most soothing sound ever in my life - our baby wailing. Then the doctor informed us that *he* has testicles. It’s a boy!

L
3/2/10, 9:53 a.m.
8lbs. 14oz, 20 inches

Baby and theMommy are doing well. Dad is freaking out. No, I’m all right. But, I did outcry the baby and theMonica combined through the first 24 hours. Take that rest of family!

points

Bonus points are awarded as such:

winner	points	notes
Ky	89,995	Totally, like mostly figured it out. -5 for pedantry. And my Canadians are the smartest so I totally knew you'd get this. And it's the L name!
Janny	10,000	For saying the real name, but also for Lamp.
Bronwyn	5	Because May-B deserves points, after all. When can we expect a little John Macdonald?
Sarah	-5	Patrick? Oh hell no! I am totally not Irish, even though I totally look it.

baby!

Here are some pictures. 100,000 bonus points to whomever can guess his name. There are a couple of obvious hints in the pictures, but the answer might be slightly less obvious.

Contest not open to those who already know his name.

before I pass out on my laptop

This isn't the POST post, on this, but yes! we are parents! We had a baby boy. Details to follow. I am having an anonymity concern about putting the name out. Hmm, maybe I'll do it in a photo so you can't text search. Not that all of your aren't my facebook friends, but you know for the strangers that might happen here!

Anyway, cuddlebunny was born 3/2/10 @ 9:53 am, 8 lbs. 14 oz., 20". Mom and baby are doing well. Dad is freaking out! Really, I am well too, but I did outcry him in his first 24 hours. He was crankypants today though and is now winning during his lifetime.

I leave you with this. There is a diaper that has a yellow line on the outside that TURNS BLUE when the baby has peed. Diapers just went TRON on your ass! (This could be a 20-year old invention that I might have missed in my avoidance of diaper changing.)

the induction will be televised

Well, not, but written about later.

Ok, so, tonight's the night! Well, probably tomorrow's the day, but we're checking in to the hospital tonight to be induced due to potential baby bigness. Admittedly, the whole size estimation is somewhere between witchcraft and voodoo, but the thought is to err on the side of safety/smaller baby. Hmm, that's all I really have to say about that. I'm feeling kind of calm, but sweaty. I get the chills when I'm really anxious. Look for that later!

Also, my pops is going in for surgery on Wednesday. If you have like 18 to 20 hours available today/tomorrow you can pray/meditate for/on all those things: cuddlebunny, theMonica, my pops and me. I will probably need the most help ultimately as this will all tie in with my hit alterna-rock band, Provider Anxiety. Look for my new hit single, Midnight Porkchops, on iTunes soon!

At any rate, wish me luck! And expect some silence here which would equate to the usual silence experienced after I submit a post.

flipping us off

So . . . the baby is now "head down." Head down, hard at work, probably working on hirs first hit play. s/he will succeed where the father has failed. It's the circle of life, yo.

As of Sunday night, we would be in the hospital right now, freaking out about being responsible for another human being. But theMonica's doctor got all up-in there and felt what might have been cuddlebunny's skull. That being the case she ordered another ultra-sound for yesterday morning where we were immediately informed that the baby was where it was supposed to be after taking its good ol' time to get where it was going. (I do not mean to call our baby "it," but there needs to be a gender-ambiguous pronoun in English other than it. Canadians, get on that.) Baby did this on the sly. It is ninja baby. So instead of freaking out about our new bundle of responsibility, baby is still safely ensconced in theMonica's womb. Pheww. Bullet dodged.

For now. The original due date was 2/26, so that only buys me 3 more days. It looks like the perfect time for a 3-day bender.

why all the hate?

List time!

Why is my blogger typin'-it-in-font NOW GIANTSIZED?!

I went to church tonight. It was lame. They didn't play any of their hits.

I got yelled at for trying to go downstairs at a bar (where I thought the bathroom was). "EXCUSE ME SIR! EXCUSE ME!!!! RAAAWWWWRRRRR!!!

flu = hangover - fun

My flu equation is close, but, the missing element is I still had the, "I am too old to do this to myself." This was right when I was puking. But it wasn't my fault! I felt like a kid in a divorce.

Speaking of divorce, I made theMonica laugh so hard today that she couldn't breathe, started crying, couldn't stop crying and then started crying regular, mystery tears. I blame the baby.

Speaking of, that baby is like 6 days away, yo. So the question becomes, will this blog become one of those daddy blogs. Why the fuck not? Wait, that's bad, isn't it? Kids have to learn that swearing is awesome on their own. Don't ruin the secret for them. It's like santa.

Someone put a post-it on a vending machine concerning stocking the machine with "real" pretzels. Apparently, the "sourdough nibblers" are just a figment of my overactive, pretzel-based imagination. And really, in a blind/shape neutral taste test, he's going to be able to tell the difference? Anyway, this is the kind of stuff I love. I secretly photo-copied that post-it.

After the bartender yelled at me (bitch!), I got paged from work. I went outside (sans coat - bad idea) to call the guy that paged me. I was out in front of the bar talking to the guy. After a few minutes, some lady opens her window and yells something about trying to sleep (as if it's my fault that she lives next to a bar that people get paged in). I was a little buzzed, so I giggled a little, apologized and said I'd walk down the street. "Well, I don't see you moving." ZING!

i am tired, but i love you more

Yes, it's true. I need to go to bed so I can get up in the morning and workout . . . whaaaah?? Yah, that is not a fun reason to get up. Not like getting up to drink - I'm talking like a tailgate situation and not an alcoholic-type situation.

At any rate, I was thinking about life and stuff. For me, getting married wasn't a big deal really. You find the right girl and it's pretty snappy. Buying a house was tougher. Not tougher as in difficult (but there was WAY more paperwork) but tougher in that emotionally I felt the squeeze of provider anxiety (also the name of my new alt-rock band). All I could think was, "Gotta make that money! We gots a mortgage!"

Now, the baby is en route, perhaps sideways, swerving wildly within theMonica's uterus, but coming nonetheless. And I feel a new change coming over me. One that I actually find disturbing. I have to get a cellphone. I know. It's frightening. It troubles me. And despite the fact that I suspect I won't be unavailable at baby time, I also feel like I need to step up. So, for the first time in my life I am going to buy a cellphone. I'm going to be one of those cellphone people. It's sad I know. I console myself with the knowledge that I'm going to buy one of those bullshit pay-as-you-go phones and keep it in the car after baby is here.

shutout bitches!

From the, what do you care?, file - I got a shutout tonight. Booyah! It wasn't that impressive really. There were only 15 shots, but 15 shots I stopped, which is totally sweet. This is the first one I've had with this team and only the second in my almost 3 years of ice hockey. I think I've had one in roller hockey. This, I know, isn't impressive, but, for serious, there's not a lot of defense. So when there is some defense, it makes it pretty easy on me. That's not to say that I was completely worthless. I probably made 3 non-easy saves. Saves that if they had scored I wouldn't have been too upset. But the other 12 were pretty routine.

Otherwise, it was an eventful game. There was some shoving, which is fun. But then there was also a 2-handed, baseball swing slash on one of our dudes. I didn't see it, but apparently the lady on the other team (they have a lady), took a hack at one of our guys. She only got 2 minutes for slashing despite the attempt to maim. But, really, what could we do? You can't really retaliate against a woman, right? I mean, I'm the goalie, so I'm usually like way too far away to care about this stuff, but it's kind of BS that she took a hack knowing that our guy wasn't going to do anything about it. It's the same reason women are allowed to beat their husbands. This isn't a cry for help or anything. TheMonica has never laid a finger on me in anger, but traditionally there is a separate set of punishment depending on the aggressor's gender. Not sure why I'm going on about this - probably because she could have done some serious damage.

At any rate, ultrasound tomorrow! (Ok, in 7 hours). So pictures to follow, I would think. Give a shout out to our baby boy (or girl that looks like me, Rogetta, according to theMonica. Well, she thinks it's a boy because she thinks the last ultrasound looked like me). Hugs!

i'm drinking for 3