tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11392122980079496442024-03-13T17:20:45.487-04:00Adventures With Sidney & JacksonThe sporadic musings of a father getting to know his sons (the conversations tend to be slightly one-sided, but the boys seem ok with me being quiet).SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-54637551421252911912014-02-08T18:26:00.001-05:002014-02-08T18:26:55.391-05:00The Wife Has Lodged A Complaint<p dir="ltr">I have been informed that the last picture of Jackson I posted was unsatisfactory. Apparently <i>this</i> is the one I needed to post. So...yeah. Jackson.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aizcvpbNHiU/Uva9PScHOtI/AAAAAAAAMGw/yIe70jsvnoc/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aizcvpbNHiU/Uva9PScHOtI/AAAAAAAAMGw/yIe70jsvnoc/s640/photo-1.JPG"> </a> </div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-82526319018284672752014-02-08T17:44:00.001-05:002014-02-08T17:44:33.385-05:00And Then There Were Two<p dir="ltr">Here we have Jackson. Decided to join us 11 days early. If he is anything like his dad, that is the last time he'll be early to anything. If you'll pardon us, we're all going to pass ou...oh crap we have a 2 year old too don't we. Make that pardon me while I chase Sidney around. Who needs sleep? </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AEoqnbkEwhw/UvazTFmeMEI/AAAAAAAAMGY/mlTV94pTixY/s1600/20140208_173649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-AEoqnbkEwhw/UvazTFmeMEI/AAAAAAAAMGY/mlTV94pTixY/s640/20140208_173649.jpg"> </a> </div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-38045939481837439962014-02-06T15:56:00.001-05:002014-02-06T15:56:50.744-05:00So We Decided To Expand The Franchise<p dir="ltr">Right now we are sitting in a delivery room awaiting the arrival of Sidney's little brother, Jackson. Apparently we grew tired of the relaxing life that is just chasing a toddler around and wanted to add a screaming newborn. I'm live tweeting this one, as last time was so much fun. Hit the link on the right for all the excitement. Already proving he's different from his brother, Jackson is over a week early and moving quickly. </p>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-67010805046368874272013-06-22T18:51:00.001-04:002013-06-23T11:16:29.417-04:00Damn day job interferes with blogging<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
So it turns out that being a lawyer means that sometimes you are really busy writing and conferring with clients and going to court and all sorts of other lawyerly sounding things. This leaves little time for quality blogging (and who wants less than quality?), and so we've laid fallow for a few weeks.</div>
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Well, Sidney apparently had enough of my sabbatical and mandated at least a short word or three be posted. In fact, here is a picture of him proofing the post with me. I belive at this moment he was pointing out my overuse of parentheticals and semicolons (he can be pointed with his notes). We'll also be posting more pictures with posts (and by that I mean any). </div>
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More adventures later this week. In the interim, anybody know how to convince a 17 month old that the Oxford Comma is not dead?</div>
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SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-17040372312892375432013-05-16T10:46:00.000-04:002013-05-16T10:46:39.234-04:00On Amusement Parks<div style="text-align: justify;">
When last we spoke, I had just recounted the adventure that was getting to Orlando, and today we delve into the raucous journey that was taking Sidney to some of the theme parks. Now, prior to the trip, several people, including yours truly, raised an eyebrow at the thought of taking a 15 Month Old to such attractions; many questions sprung to mind. Will there be any rides at all he can go on? Most rides require a height of at least 36", some even 40", and although Sidney is pretty tall for his age (32"), he still falls a bit short (no pun intended). Will he freak out seeing the characters? People in giant furry suits ... let's be honest, it scares us a little too (for decidedly different reasons). Will our sanity survive the onslaught created by the throngs of fellow park goers, naked commercialism on display and the rigors of chasing a 15 Month Old around a giant amusement park? Ok, mostly it was the throngs of people worrying me, but that is only because the masses tend to create massive lines which mean massive waits and just the thought of it gives me a massive headache. See what I mean? And let's not forget the question of Will Sidney remember any of this? I am generally hard pressed to remember what I did last week, much less what I did at under 2 years of age, would this give Sidney any lasting memories? Needless to say, we got answers to these (along with several others nobody asked), and now we can share them with you.</div>
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First up, were there any rides for Sidney? Given the insane cost of admission (for our trip, we went to Universal Studios, Epcot and the Magic Kingdom), your ROI is going to be the amount of "fun" you and your brood can extract from any given park. Luckily, children under 2 get into most parks for free (including the 3 we visited), so even if we didn't find many rides for Sidney, the economics of the trip could balance out a bit so long as he had a great time. Universal, predictably, was very low on rides for kids as wee as Sidney. A couple of rides (Despicable Me and Shreck) had "stationary" benches where you could sit with a lap child and watch the ride/movie, but both were in 3D and there was no way Sidney was going to keep the glasses on. So rather than risk giving him a headache and/or precipitating rounds of puking from watching the movies without the glasses (take off your 3D glasses next time, odds are you will be nauseated in seconds), we passed on these. The park did, however, have Woody Woodpecker Land (or something like that - Google is your friend people) which was essentially a themed playground. There were slides, see-saws, water spurting areas, etc, all themed to different children's properties (Curious George, Fivel, Barney the Dinosaur and the aforementioned Woodpecker). There was a kid roller coaster Sidney was still too small for, and two water rides that we could have taken him on but for it being a cool and overcast day. Sidney nevertheless had a great time wandering and playing on the slides. However, you really could not make a day out of this one area, thus the height limit for rides will be the measuring stick for when we can bring Sidney back to Universal. Next was Epcot. Here we finally got to put Sidney on "proper" rides. Several rides are slow moving benches where you can either keep a small child on your lap or sitting next to you. Little Nemo, Imagination and Starship Earth all were hits with him (he cried when we took him <i>off</i> the rides - a trend that would continue). Sidney also got to do a lot of walking around in Epcot as we went through all the Country Pavilions. Sidney is very much in his independent phase, so getting him to hold your hand while he walks around is a 50/50 endeavor at best, so this gave us the opportunity to try out our child-leash, and yes it worked like a charm. Some folks gave us dirty looks, but clearly they don't have children (all the thing does is let us know where he is and give us the ability to stop him from diving into oncoming traffic people, relax). Finally was the Magic Kingdom, the Happiest Place on Earth™. Unsurprisingly, this had the most rides for Sidney. The vast majority of the rides are of the "bench moves you through stuff" variety, and let me tell you those work great with a small child. He loved It's a Small World (Grandpa's favorite ride), but his favorite seemed to be the People Mover (we rode this one twice in a row, he was having such a great time). So, the answer to "are there rides for the really small kids" is not so much at Universal, some at Epcot and pretty much all of Magic Kingdom.<br />
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On to the characters; did Sidney freak out? Way back when I visited amusement parks in my youth (yes, they had them in the iron age), the characters would just walk around the park and pose for pictures. Not any more, apparently. At Universal, Epcot and Magic Kingdom the characters are now stationed at certain locations at designated times and you can line up and wait to take your picture with them. Yeah, you've been reading this blog, you know this had a very low probability of happening. That being said, Barney had no line at Universal (more on that shortly), so Sidney met his first amusement park character and it was a giant purple anthropomorphic tyrannosaurus rex with a speech impediment (have you <i>heard</i> Barney?). It went just fine and he even smiled and stood still for the picture; Sidney didn't do bad either. We saw a few characters in passing while walking around all three parks but none caught Sidney's attention. The only other characters we saw up close were the princesses at Magic Kingdom, as The Wife wanted us to have lunch at Cinderella's castle. Sidney, predictably, was fast asleep for the portrait picture with Cinderella, and for 90% of lunch (The Wife is lucky Nana and Grandpa love her so much). So we have a picture of a passed out child in a stroller with Cinderella, pictures of The Wife with Ariel, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, respectively, next to a stroller with a sleeping child (apropos with Sleeping Beauty, in hind sight), and a picture of a crying Sidney avoiding Jasmine. In Sidney's defense, it looked like Jasmine could use a Pilates class or 10. Hey, don't hate the messenger people, she's the one in the belly outfit. Although we didn't have a freak out, he was not exactly enthralled with the characters, so let's call this one a push.<br />
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Next, would we survive the throngs of people at the parks? Funny thing, turns out that the last week of April and first week of May is a "low time" in Orlando. All the various Spring Breaks are over, it is too soon for the Graduation Trips, and way too soon for the Summer Vacation crowd. All 3 parks were readily manageable. In fact, the longest line we waited on was 20 minutes, and that was for the lunch at the Castle that we had a reservation for; not so much irony as foreshadowing, really. All of the parks now have some variation on "fast passes" that allow you to drastically cut your wait time, and we did use these a few times at the Magic Kingdom, but for the most part the parks were just full enough to show life, but there were almost no lines. I am not saying this was a "sweet spot" week, but it sure comes close. The down side is that this is still smack dab in the middle of Spring Showers season, so there was rain every single day. It broke long enough for us to be able to go to the parks, but rain it did. So ... yeah ... none of you guys go down during the last week of April/first week of May. Totally not worth it. Sure, we will still go during this time, but only because ... uh ... because ... oh, look, the last question.<br />
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Finally, will he remember any of this? Half way through the first day at Universal I came to the realization that we will have no way of knowing the answer to this one until Sidney gets older and communicates whether he does. That being said, we will definitely remember it. He laughed, he pointed and oohed, he stared quizzically, and was otherwise very happy (with the exception of when Nana would make him wear his hat to protect from the sun. Willful little bugger, but Nana prevailed). In the end it is not so much of a "push" as a moot question. Apparently, not everything with Sidney is fully about Sidney. Hegle would approve (the philosophy majors will argue Kierkegaard applies more, the rest of you, Google is still your friend).<br />
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Join us next time when whatever I write is way shorter than the last two posts.<br />
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SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-50421223675831509762013-05-06T16:38:00.004-04:002013-05-06T16:38:57.443-04:00Ramp up to the family vacation, or, how I learned we NEED all this stuff to go with us.<div style="text-align: justify;">
The Wife, Sidney, Nana, the Admiral and yours truly spent a wonderful week in Orlando, taking Sidney to theme parks, the pool and generally running him around in the [occasional] sun. However, before we get to <i>that </i>entertaining story, I thought it would be appropriate to share the adventure that was packing for and getting to Orlando (it also means I get at least <i>two</i> posts out of the trip; huzzah for content). How adventurous? Let's find out.</div>
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I have mentioned in the past that travelling with a child (and My Wife) can make one feel a bit like a Sherpa, but I now realize that this description, although completely accurate, does not convey the entire experience. To fully appreciate the undertaking we need to go back a bit (to pre-packing ... yes this is a thing apparently), stay a while in the middle (actually packing and then making it to, and through, the departure airport) and, finally, forward a smidge (to flying and arriving at your destination) along the Sherpa time-line. Confusing? Oh, it just gets better.</div>
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Pre-packing begins when My Wife decides that an upcoming trip is close enough to warrant starting packing lists and purchasing whatever "essentials" we lack. If this sounds vague then I have properly phrased it. For a while I thought the length of a given trip would dictate the pre-packing deadline (ie, a linear equation), but the lists and purchases would come no-where near when the math predicted; total failure. Determined to figure it out, I would add and modify variables in (vain) attempts to refine the calculations. Distance being traveled, the climate of the destination, the "excitement factor" of the trip, the significance of the trip; none of it worked. Some combination of relativistic time dilation, exponential calculations, wave function collapse and Dadaism are likely at play, but that's the best I can muster. So pre-packing begins when it begins, but once it does there is no stopping or off-ramp. The aforementioned lists will include breakdowns of clothing necessary (by day), supplies, required peripherals, optional peripherals (which become required) and items we might have forgotten in the past, but do not want to forget again. The lists are subject to modification at any moment and any list you might have previously referenced could have been replaced so double check with The Wife first. The lists also multiply, because the packing list gives rise to the purchases list and those together will give rise to a to-do list in order to coordinate the shopping, the packing and Sidney's schedule. And we're just getting started.</div>
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Pre-packing gives way to packing in a very organic manner, which is to say we can't really pinpoint the moment it happens. They run into each-other slowly; one moment The Wife is going over the lists, buying stuff we <i>absolutely</i> need, and the next piles of stuff that will be packed start forming. I used to be of the mindset that "packing" didn't start until there was a suitcase out being stuffed, but then just before one short trip down to Philly I saw our dining room table covered in zip-lock bags, each one filled with an individual, but complete, outfit for Sidney. Sure, there was no suitcase yet, but come on, how is that not packing? For this latest trip, packing started about 3 days before departure, with small piles of Sidney's clothing appearing on the dining room table (but no zip-locks this time). We were done by the night before, partly because I just waited until the end and then threw stuff in a suitcase, but mostly because trying to pack with a 15 month old "helping" means you spend equal times putting things into a suitcase and chasing the little bugger down to get back what he just pulled out of the suitcase. I swear the child must think his full name is "Sidney No!".</div>
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But, finish we did (after he went to bed) and I'll let you guess the bag count. It's for 2 adults and a 15 month old for a week in Orlando. Have your guess? It was <i>six</i>. Three large suitcases, two small suitcases and a stroller bag. Oh, and the stroller bag had the stroller <i>and</i> a bunch of Sidney's toys packed in it (tip: most airlines let car seat and stroller bags be checked for free/don't count against bag total, so use them for more than just the car seats and strollers). Now, of the <i>six</i>, guess how many I was packed into? 3/4 of one of the large suitcases. The rest of the storage square footage was Sidney and The Wife. And before you ask what was in all that storage space I'll just tell you that: (1) I only can guess at half of it; (2) I don't want to ask what it all was; and (3) I am sure it was all <i>absolutely </i>necessary and could not be left behind. Yeah...moving along. So now we have <i>six </i>bags and a child to get down an elevator and into our car, then out of our car and into the airline's hands. We had decided to curb-side check because that would be "easier." Unfortunately, the curb-side attendant was nowhere to be found so we ended up having to take turns running luggage into the ticket counter and showing our IDs for check-in as the other stayed with Sidney and the car. Naturally the curb-side attendant showed back up to his post after we were done and pulling the car away. Sonofa .... </div>
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Next we parked the car in the pre-reserved parking garage because I'll be damned if I am leaving the car out in the elements of Newark, NJ for a week. Unfortunately, this parking was attached to Terminal C and we were leaving out of Terminal A. This means we had to get 2 rolling small suitcases, a backpack, large purse, car-seat and a 15 month old from Terminal C to A. "Luckily" there was an air-train that went form terminal to terminal, but to get to it we had to go up three levels using two elevator banks separated by a few hundred feet of mazes (Newark airport, designed with something in mind. Nobody knows what that "something" is, however). Finally over the river and through the ill designed woods, we got to go through security. My take on the TSA/Airport security: it's a farce. Some of you will disagree with me (and you are certainly entitled to be completely wrong), but the whole strip down to stocking feet with no belt, carrying no fluids, and then being subjected to the Freedom Grope™ by marginally trained individuals (not their fault, it's the fault of those providing the marginal training) is not stopping t'rrists, it's humiliating and delaying law abiding citizens. Add trying to get yourself and a child through with baby food and formula and security checkpoints are akin to death by a thousand rusty cuts. The Wife, Sidney and I joined one of the pre-verification programs, hoping to avoid these theaters of the absurd, but unfortunately the airline we were flying hasn't joined the program yet (and now I can say, with no satire, hey, JetBlue, get with the damn program!). So we muddled through the rape of the 4th Amendment and were finally at the gate.</div>
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Because we had to budget in plenty of time to get through Not-Actually-Security, we were at the gate about an hour before boarding. Sidney spent this time running around, saying hello and bye bye to everyone he saw, and exhausting his parental units. But then we got to board the plane! Yes, get the 2 rolling suitcases, the kid, the car seat, the backpack and the purse onto the plane, then secure the car-seat onto the airplane seat, get the luggage into an open overhead before they are full and then get our own asses into the seats before an over-eager "In-Flight Specialist" (or whatever they call sky waiters/waitresses these days) yelled at us for violating one safety code or another for breathing on the wrong side of the plane. However, we were on the plane! Sidney was an absolute pleasure on the flight. He played, he ate, he watched some cartoons, he laughed ... then he fell asleep just 40 minutes before landing. Luckily for us when we woke him as the plane reached the gate in Orlando he did not rouse cranky, but then we had to get him, the car-seat ... you know the rest ... off the plane and onto another air-train so that we could get to the baggage carousel and pick up the three large suitcases and the packed stroller bag. Nana and the Admiral met us just before the carousel and Nana ran to grab her grandson. To be fair, we were sort-of holding him out and yelling "LOOK, NANA!" It's win/win people ... </div>
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Join us next time when I talk way too much about taking Sidney to Universal Studios, Epcot and The Magic Kingdom. If you'll excuse me, I need to go lay down and rest after our vacation.</div>
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SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-54872772036567172202013-04-23T13:07:00.000-04:002013-04-23T13:07:12.623-04:00Why don't we all go out for dinner? and other sources of comedy.<div style="text-align: justify;">
My Wife and I love food. More precisely, we love <i>good</i> food (although we have been known to disagree on the definition of "good" from time to time). Before Sidney, we would go out to dinner at least twice a week to indulge our taste buds in the outrageously fantastic fare available in NYC, and that's not to mention the breakfasts, brunches and lunches we could be easily talked into as well. We went out with Abuela and Abeulo, we went out with Nana and the Admiral, we went out with friends ... hell, friendly enough strangers could talk us into a meal out. However, once Sidney was born, predictably the gastronomical outings became distinctly fewer and further apart, but our love for the tasty remained. Now, My Wife happens to be a fantastic cook, and thus we have outrageously good meals at home ... but that means clean up. My point? We love food <i>and</i> not having to clean up after. No wonder, then, the aforementioned affinity for the NYC restaurant/diner/gastro-truck/guy-selling-meat-on-a-stick scene. Rambling story short, Sidney needed to learn to eat at restaurants. Who are we kidding, it's actually that <i>we</i> were needed to learn how to handle Sidney at restaurants. To this end, we try to go out at least once a week for a family meal, and there have been some definite ups and downs along the way. What have we learned? I'm glad you (or, more accurately, I) asked. <br />
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With considerably further ado, I give you the guaranteed partially effective checklist for having a moderately successful meal at a restaurant with Sidney (so long as by successful you mean "getting to finish a majority of the meal" ... and by "majority" you mean "got to shove 2/3 of your food into your mouth without [excessively] choking"). With me so far? Good:<br />
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1) <u>Get to the restaurant at an "off-hour" for the desired meal</u>. Basically, this means "get there before the rush." So, for weekend breakfasts we're talking at or before 8am (hey, this is NYC, who the hell is up before noon on a weekend other than parents of young children? That's right, nobody ... unless Nana and the Admiral are visiting, then them), for a lunch 11ish or 2ish, and for dinner 5. Notice something? Yep, we're talking early bird hours. Babies and Geriatrics; cue Sunrise/Sunset, flowery circle of life cliché, <i>et al. </i>There will be more room, the wait-staff will be happy to have a tipping table during the off time (more later) and you'll feel less bad about ruining someone else's meal in the event of a MeltDown™. <br />
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2) <u>Pick a restaurant that is not quiet</u>. Sidney is, thankfully, very expressive. He babbles, he uses the words he does know (often), and when he gets bored of that he just makes noise. At 15 months, this is a great developmental thing. Sure, as he grows we'll (hopefully) be able to teach him proper volume control, but for now it means we bring what amounts to a foreign language color commentator wherever we go; you understand a few scattered words, you know he's describing some on-going thing and every now and then he enthusiastically declares a scoring play. In a loud restaurant, this all just blends into the noise; bonus points at places actually showing sports. We've found establishments that play music are ideal, with large boisterous establishments coming in a close second. This brings us to<br />
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3) <u>Learn to spot "kid friendly" restaurants</u>. Aside from the blaring advertisements for the obvious "kid party-places" (which, really ... no. Sorry Mr. E. Cheese [HA, pun], I'd rather pass), how does one know a restaurant is kid-friendly? First, look for strollers. Easy give-away. Be wary of <i>too </i>many strollers, however, because this can mean either a private party is going on, <i>or</i> you have merely stumbled into a less obviously advertised ring of hel ... I mean "kid party-place". Next, look for other families. The kids may be out of strollers, but having one or two other families there likely means the place passes kid-muster. Finally, and this one is key, ask if they have high-chairs. My Wife and I have come to the conclusion that if your establishment has even a single high-chair, you contemplate young-ins as patrons. Side note, you'd be surprised how many pubs in NYC have high-chairs ... rules 2 and 3 satisfied in one swoop! Bonus: pubs showing soccer and/or rugby matches. Everyone is pretty much expecting random exclamations in something vaguely reminiscent of English ... not to mention patrons possibly puking and/or peeing at the tables. <br />
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4) <u>Bring stuff for the kid to do</u>. This one was all My Wife (and she gives credit to Nana), but it is dead on: a bored kid is a noisy fidgety kid, so bring thinks to keep them occupied. For Sidney this means coloring books, a toy or two and Daddy's KindleFire (loaded with Bubble Guppies). You start with the coloring book, he draws for a bit, throws the crayon, you switch to the toy, he plays with that for a bit, throws that, hopefully by then your food has arrived and you put on Bubble Guppies and that buys you the final few minutes to get your meal down. Somewhere in there you feed him, which means hand him various foods that he either eats (GREAT) or throws (damnit). The most successful meal we have had to date involved Sidney chewing on a lemon while watching Bubble Guppies for a full 15 minutes. Hey, don't look the gift-horse in the mouth, just saddle up and ride it out. Bonus: vitamin C.<br />
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5) <u>Tip commensurate with the mess</u>. Had a relatively decent meal and want to be able to come back and not be told the high-chair mysteriously went missing? Tip the poor people that now have to clean up the child-dining ground zero. Kids in general make a mess, toddlers whom have a penchant for simply dropping (or tossing) food they are "done" with make spectacular messes. So, leave a little extra for the trouble. Think of it as an investment in future pleasant meals, your dining karma if you will.<br />
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Tune in next time when we cover packing for a family vacation. No, really, we have to pack this week for a vacation and there is no way this isn't going to end in comedy.<br />
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SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-72638134829697891562013-04-15T12:47:00.001-04:002013-04-15T12:47:06.092-04:00Babysitters. Or, how we realized we are irrevocably now grown ups.<div style="text-align: justify;">
Babysitters. One undoubtedly took care of you, at least occasionally, when you were a child. Babysitters. It is incredibly likely that during high school and college you either were or dated one (or, for some of you, both). Babysitters. You've heard the word for a good chunk of your life, and I do not presume to speak for all parents, but for at least My Wife and I the word now carries all manner of new meaning. One of the banal realities of having children is that they need to be watched. Whether it be a simple "keep them fed, changed and from obvious dangers", or the more involved "keep them in the line of sight at all times because they are walking mayhem", children need to be watched. Although we want to be the ones doing all the watching, at certain times we need to be relieved of duty for short stints. Doctor's appointments, emergencies, special events, mental health breaks (trust me), etc. So who watches when the watchers need a break (<i>quis custodiet pro custodes</i>, if you will)? Babysitters.</div>
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As first time parents, we predictably turned to Abuela and Nana for babysitting needs when Sidney was still in the "newborn" phase, and as new parents we defined that as until he hit around 8/9 months; although, if anecdotal evidence bears weight, for the next kid we will define that as "until My Wife and the baby are discharged from the hospital." But, of course, we could not <i>only</i> use Sidney's grandparents (or other family) for our babysitting as there would be plenty of times that the need would arise because they were not available, or they too would be attending whatever event that called for the babysitter in the first place. And with this came the first new meaning for "babysitter": a person that needs to be vetted. </div>
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With thoughts of backgrounds checks that would make Secret Service agents nervous running through my mind, My Wife discovered that there were, thankfully, already a few networks in place for us to tap that had "pre-vetted" the candidates. One was word of mouth from mommies she trusted (hold on that one for a second) and the other was a babysitting service run by Barnard College. At the least, these gave us places from which to start the interview<b style="text-decoration: underline;">s</b>; plural, because you are going to need to keep a roster of babysitters, not everyone will be available at all times, so have a deep bench. As for the babysitting service (there are others similarly run all over the place it turns out), the babysitters submit for a background check by the service and list all of their references, etc, so you have a bit less legwork to do. You get a list of qualified and vetted candidates to bring in to try out. It is a bit like the drafts in professional sports. You can concentrate on a smaller pool of known talent. On the word of mouth, I was informed, other parents will give you their "back-up" babysitters in order to hoard the "first stringers" for themselves ... I do not blame them. You go through a lot of trial and error before you find a sitter that is reliable, available <i>and</i> your kid likes (<i>see</i>, below). Think of it as declaring franchise players vs. leaving players in unprotected free-agency (it's physics or sports metaphors people, deal). So, the pools of available sitters are established, we meet them, we (and by "we" I mean "My Wife", who am I kidding) ask them all manner of questions and then we create our short list. And with candidates being narrowed, we come to the next new meaning: a person Sidney has to interview.</div>
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Let's face it, the babysitter and your kid have to get along in order for the relationship to work. Sidney, much like his father, figures out whether he likes people within the first few minutes of meeting. He might warm up a bit after a while, but for the most part it's a read/react situation. You can see him working through his feelings on the person. He looks them up and down, waits to see what they have to say, gives them a good stare in the eye ... and then either smiles or starts bawling. Someday he'll replace that last bit with something more subtle (I hope), but it is good to see he has the mechanics of it down. To be fair, my reactions tend to be along similar lines, except instead of bawling at people I am not fond of I tend to just make small talk and nod until I can escape their presence (although, to think of it, bawling might be the way to go as it ends the conversation considerably sooner). We've been very lucky and Sidney has taken to several of the babysitters quickly. He has his favorites and those are the ones we always try to go to first, but they are all great young ladies. Which brings us to the last new meaning: someone that makes you feel <i>really</i> old.</div>
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It is not so much that the babysitters tend to be from their very late teens to their early 20s (although, let's face it, that alone can make you feel old), it is that they refer to us as Mr. and Mrs. [Redacted] (you people know too much about us already, no way you are getting the surname). Now, professionally I am quite used to being called Mr. [Redacted], but when done in a personal setting it always makes me spin around and look for my father; Abuelo is Mr. [Redacted], damnit, I'm the young buck. But, alas, I am no longer. I am now also Mr. [Redacted], Sidney is the young buck. My Wife reacts similarly, although for her it is the memory of how she thought of the Mrs. So-and-Sos she'd babysit for, ie, "Grown Ups." Her reaction upon having our first sitter call her Mrs. [Redacted] was along the lines of: "Oh my god, I'm the mom ... I'm the old one ... she's the young one ... shoot me." You'd think <i>having</i> the kid would have been enough to make us feel old, but no, it took an innocent, and very respectful, third-party to hammer the reality home.</div>
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In the end, all that matters is that we have people we are comfortable with to watch Sidney on those rare occasions that we need to be out. It is good for him to be exposed to new people and it is good for us to continue to have adult corners of our lives. Ostensibly it is good for the babysitters too, as it is a (relatively) easy way to make a few extra dollars and Sidney is a great kid, but someday a babysitter will call them Mrs. So-and-so and they'll think "she's the young one ... crap."</div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-79074584277902428052013-04-10T09:53:00.001-04:002013-04-10T09:53:33.394-04:00Pre-School Interviews? Pre-School Interviews.<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have recently (and by "recently", I actually mean "since she was 3 months pregnant") been informed by my Wife that in order for a Sidney to get into a private pre-school in NYC, there is a rigorous and very competitive interview process that must be navigated. If you are anything like me, that sentence is tantamount to abject madness. Forget the fact that we have to start the process almost 2 years before he's even old enough to be matriculated (dead serious), this is <i>pre-school</i> we are discussing. Finger painting, paste eating, basic socialization and the daily nap. How, exactly, does one interview, much less competitively, for pre-school? Would Sidney be forced to sit for a Pre-Pre-Pre-Pre-SAT? Would we need to get letters of recommendation from his baby-sitters? Does he have to submit his best crayon-scribbles-in-lieu-of-personal-essay? Should he be doing extra ... wait, he isn't even doing curriculars, how the hell are we supposed to get him <i>extra</i>-curriculars!? He's not even on toddler student-government ...<br />
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Realizing that I was approaching this from the entirely wrong direction (one premised upon the notion that the process made sense), my Wife broke the news to me that the whole thing is rigorous and competitive because it is the <i>parents</i> that are being interviewed. Oh, sure, the schools want to <i>meet</i> the kids, but I am convinced this is just to make sure they are not dealing with some uncontrollable hellion, hopped up on sugar and lugging blueprints for mischief. The core of the process, its unapologetic <i>sine qua non</i><i>, </i>is the parent interviews. In a nutshell, the Wife and I would have to fill out long applications listing all sorts of information about ourselves. Our education, our income, our hobbies, our jobs. Then, after all this, we'd need to sit through personal interviews with the schools. Let that sink in. A pre-school administrator would interview <i>me</i>, and the outcome of that interview would dictate whether our bouncing boy got into the pre-school. That's right folks, Sidney's screwed. <br />
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It's not that I don't interview well, indeed my academic and professional careers would dictate the contrary. No, it's that my consternation with being, ostensibly, interviewed so that my son could attend a <i>pre</i>-school would permeate my every answer. Remember, we're already filling out questionnaires on Sidney (and ourselves), and they are meeting him. What questions, specifically for <i>me</i>, other than "is that your son?", "can you pay the tuition?" and "will your son cause our casualty insurance rates to go up?" are <i>actually</i> relevant? Sure, my Wife would undoubtedly (and rightfully) have me killed in some creative manner or another if I didn't play nice with the "interviewer" asking me about some wholly irrelevant thing ... but let's be realistic here, this is me.<br />
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Please understand, my cognitive dissonance on the topic is triggered not by them wanting to meet us, this makes perfect sense (the "what are we getting into with these people" factor), but by the declared <i>competitive</i> and <i>extensive</i> nature of the parents' interviews. Some answer I give makes Sidney a better pre-schooler? An answer given by someone else's parent means Sidney is a <i>less</i> worthy pre-school candidate? Asking me what books on parenting I have read (actual application query) is going to determine whether Sidney will be able to handle the rigors of free-play time? Of course these don't make sense, and things that don't make sense make me ask questions. Mostly, questions that force the person attempting to feed me the nonsense to reflect on the abject inanity of their position; and thus we have me being murdered in my sleep (ok, there are other steps involved, mostly variations on my Wife screaming at me that I <i>knew </i>what the game was, so why did I have to make the interviewer cry, but that's not important).<br />
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However, I may have been spared a gruesome demise (temporarily), as my Wife has decided that the exorbitant costs of pre-schools in NYC makes the entire endeavor possibly a poor ROI proposition (translation: we looked up tuition and choked). Instead, she's trying to find us an apartment in a neighborhood zoned for a really good public school. In NYC, this means either a condo or co-op building ... which means we'll have to go through a Board-of-Managers interview to buy the apartment. That's right folks, we're screwed.</div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-82350567668464470162013-04-04T13:10:00.001-04:002013-04-04T13:17:01.553-04:00Bath Time (Revisited).<div style="text-align: justify;">
When Sidney was just over a month old, we discussed the ins and outs of bathing an infant. As you may recall (translation: I needed a transitional opening), the "ins" were having a clean baby, and the "outs" included wedging the baby-bathtub in the sink, water splashing all over you, him peeing everywhere and the ever-present threat of poop in the baby-bathtub. It's been over a year now, and I thought it might be time to report in on how bath time goes these days. The biggest change is that we no longer use a baby-bathtub. Once Sidney started sitting up on his own, we pretty much had to move the baby-bathtub from the sink to inside one of our bathtubs out of sheer fear that the now sitting/leaning soaped-up child would manage to fall out of the thing and tumble from sink to kitchen floor. The baby-tub in the big-tub didn't last very long, as our boy went from sitting to pulling himself up very quickly (not to mention getting too tall to even fit in the baby-tub). So with the worry advancing to him tripping out of the baby-tub and going face/head first into the big tub, he graduated to just the big tub. End of story? HA.</div>
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How do you keep a very active child relatively (key word) still in a huge bath tub long enough to bathe him? Toys. Lots of toys. With his graduation to the full tub came filling the tub with water friendly toys. Foam letters, bath-time friends, bubble makers (who are we kidding, these should just be called "child re-soapers") and anything else remotely water-proof. Heck, Nana was crazy enough to put a water-table in one of her showers for him (more on this shortly). Bathtub full of toys, bathing is now a snap, right? HA AGAIN!</div>
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As I have mentioned previously, Sidney is a full on standing, walking, mobile platform of mayhem. Putting him in the bathtub changes none of this. You sit him in the tub, he stands up. By a miracle he sits back down and you pour water over him to start the actual bathing ... he stands up. You start lathering his hair ... he stands up and tries to grab something. You try to wash his body ... he stands up, actually grabs something and then throws it out of the tub. Basically, at any given moment you have a wet, soapy, slippery child trying his best to wriggle his way around, across and/or <i>out</i> of the bathtub for no other reason than he can. The phrase "Sidney please sit down. SIT!" is uttered so often during bath time that our neighbors must think we have a recalcitrant dog in the apartment that is only awake between 7 and 7:30pm. My Wife does her best to wash him, essentially one-handed, but on several occasions we've had to work together to get the job done. That's right, the answer to the question "how many college educated adults does it take to give a toddler a bath" is "at <i>least</i> two." </div>
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When he isn't playing one-man Marco Polo in the tub, he is usually trying his damndest to get everything that is <i>inside</i> the tub <i>out</i>. Toys, wash cloths (this one is fun), cups, the <i>water. </i>All of it flying over the side. It is no surprise that once he's been soaped and rinsed My Wife generally announces "ok, you're on Daddy's watch now"; this is usually immediately followed by him throwing a soaking wet washcloth at me and splashing at me until I am as soaked as he. This, or he stands up and proceeds to pee into the bathtub. I comfort myself with the notion that he's practicing for potty-training. Which brings us to Nana's water table. Just when we thought "poop in the tub" was a thing of the past, as Sidney stood in Nana's shower during a recent visit, playing merrily with his water table, he pooped. Just standing there. He stopped what he was doing for a second and pooped right in her shower. The next night? He did it again. The third night? We put him in the shower with his diaper. Hey, poop in the shower once, shame on you ... third time you're in a diaper; or something.<br />
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I guess the takeaway from all of this is that the "ins" of bathing a toddler are having a clean toddler, and the "outs" include a soaped up child trying to escape your grasp, water going everywhere, him peeing in the bathtub and a turd in Nana's shower. Progress!</div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-90379877439920385452013-04-01T11:17:00.000-04:002013-04-01T11:32:57.586-04:00Flying Food (and happy dogs)<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am not quite sure of the evolutionary advantage provided by the behavior, but from the fact that so many toddlers fling their food, there must be something I am missing. Pretty quickly after making the transition from "baby food" to "real food", essentially from pureed pastes to stuff that needs chewing, Sidney also made the transition from "being fed" to "eating some, throwing the rest". To be fair, he also does a good share of "grab and put in mouth" (sometimes his mouth, sometimes Mommy's, sometimes inanimate objects ... you get the picture), but not a meal goes by without something going flying. Things get really interesting when he gets a hold of a spoon (wet-food catapult), fork (meat flinger) or spork (the perfect storm). He does not even need to be feeding himself, mind you, as he is more than happy to grab the utensil full of food out of <i>your</i> hand and fling whatever is on it. When he is feeling particularly creative, he will grab the utensil, wait for you to start pulling back and then <i>just let go</i>. That's right, he gets <i>you</i> to effectively throw the food for him. To punctuate the exchange, he'll usually laugh at this point.</div>
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But, I digress. For the most part, Sidney uses the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1139212298007949644" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Food Fling<sup>(tm)</sup></span> to indicate he is done with the meal, and this despite Mommy's (and the rest of the supporting cast's) constant reminders to the wee lad that "we do not throw our food." When we are home or visiting Abuela and Abuelo, this leads to a lot of vacuuming, clean-up and occasional "yeah, this is still good" munch by Dad (don't judge me, some of this stuff is tasty ... you have no idea what you are missing). However, when we are visiting Nana and the Admiral, it means that the puppies get snacks. So this leads to two Havanese being front and center for every Sidney meal, waiting patiently by the high chair. Sidney throws a piece of chicken nugget, mad dash by the dogs to get it. Sidney throws a piece of waffle, mad dash by the dogs. Sidney throws a piece of cracker, mad dash. You get the picture. </div>
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The downside is that having the dogs respond so positively to him throwing the food is that it "encourages" the behavior, despite the parental (and grand-parental) admonitions against his Tater Tosses. Actually, now that I think about it, kids throwing food at family animals would seriously ingratiate the tots to the pets ... leading to an extra set of eyes on the wandering infants. A rather elegant solution to the evolutionary question; a<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> symbiotic development. Then again, the kid throws everything he gets his hands on eventually, so odds are the dogs just benefit. Also, 9 times out of 10 a Havanese will beat you to a flung chicken nugget ... in case you were curious.</span></div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-84609338385250047282013-03-26T11:37:00.000-04:002013-03-26T11:45:47.623-04:00Ix-Nay on the Ursing-Cay<div style="text-align: justify;">
Recently we noticed that Sidney was using fewer random phonemes and instead engaging more deliberate speech. He is repeating sounds he hears a lot, and repeats some simple words very-often. He also now does a running commentary, utilizing a structured babble (consisting of these learned sounds and small words) to narrate as he goes about his day (you guessed it, now there are <i>two</i> wandering philosophers in the house, except he makes considerably more sense). Now, as an inveterate linguaphile (Exibit A), I was ecstatic because my first thought was "front row seat to linguistic development!" As an inveterate potty-mouth (I am a lawyer, Exhibit B), however, I was petrified because my <i>second</i> thought was "holy @#!&ing $#!^ I have to seriously stop cursing." I have no doubt all parents experience this epiphany. Indeed, the euphemisms employed by loving mothers and fathers to avoid exposing their treasured young to the harsher, more vulgar, near barbaric corners of language outnumber the actual curses (almost). The problem, as you likely guessed, is not with the <i>idea</i>, which is probably near universal in acceptance; no, the rub lies in the <i>practice</i>. </div>
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I am not a fan of neutered curses. Intellectually I find them dishonest. When someone says "gosh darn it" or "gee willickers" we all know full well they mean "goddamnit". We also know full well what someone means when they say "shoot", "shucks" or "sugar" in <i>that</i> tone, and there is no need to get into "F it", "F off" and "are you gosh darn F'ing with me. Shoot." You're not fooling anyone, either curse or completely refrain; this was my intellectual stance on the subject. You see where this is going. My new role as "Dad" put me in a bit of a pickle, a cognitive conundrum (Exhibit C) if you would. Do I compromise my intellectual stance, or do I risk turning my son into a potty-mouth (a few years early; we live in NYC and Nana and the Admiral are in Philly people, it's inevitable). The solution I am <i>trying</i> to implement is the "completely refrain", this way I can satisfy both my intellectual convictions and my fatherly duties. However, nobody <i>plans</i> on cursing (except for Quentin Tarantino), it really just flies out in the heat of the moment. So what we end up with is me cutting myself off mid-sentence the moment I realize I am about to curse (when we're lucky). This, unfortunately, leads to conversations that sound like I have either been struck down mid-sentence or am suffering from intermittent selective-mutism. </div>
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So, the good news is Sidney will (hopefully) hear incredibly fewer curses at home and I do not have to compromise my intellectual snobbery. The bad news is Sidney is going to grow up thinking his father can't finish a goddamn sentence ... oh $#!&.</div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-9202556638184734212013-03-21T11:02:00.002-04:002013-03-21T11:07:45.911-04:00Did I really just say that?<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is a concept in the law (an exception to the "rule against hearsay" to be specific) known as the "excited utterance." In a nutshell, things people hear others blurt out in the "heat of the moment" are given slightly higher weight than regular old over-heard <i>stuff</i> because, the theory goes (and I am over-simplifying here, so don't go quoting Moore's Federal Practice on me), folks are more likely to speak their mind honestly under <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Sudden High-Stress<sup>™</sup></span> and those over-hearing such sudden blurts are more likely to remember them accurately because of the intensity used in aforesaid blurting (ah lawyer, verbosity is thy name). Now, this may be enlightening in the context of an investigation or trial, but it is downright worrisome when you apply the erstwhile aphorism to what can come out of a parent's mouth when their offspring induce <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Sudden High-Stress<sup>™</sup></span>. It's not so much that what is said is any less "honest" than the usual parental chatter (to the contrary, they are mostly raw unfiltered truth) but that the sentences themselves border on the nonsensical to the overhearing ear. Both uttering parent and over-hearing "witness" are left with something that everyone agrees was said, but without a whole lot of context sounds daft, at best, or insane at worst (which is most often the case, naturally). To illustrate, here are some Sidney induced excited utterances; imagine hearing these coming from inside an apartment or on the street <i>without </i>having the context:</div>
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Don't grab the poop!<br />
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We do not throw food in this house!</div>
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Don't pee ... don't pee ... don't pee!</div>
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Fine, you want to push buttons? Now you watch QVC!</div>
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I said don't grab the poop!<br />
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We do not punch the puppies!<br />
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Please don't lick the window.</div>
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Did you just poop in the shower ... again?!<br />
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What are you doi ... oh no you don ... OH SERIOUSLY?!<br />
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Please don't lick the coffee table ... again.</div>
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Under what set of circumstances is flinging dinner helpful?<br />
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My point? When your kid doesn't make you sound like a wandering sage dispensing wisdom, he makes you sound like a raving lunatic with stress-induced tourettes. Then again, most of Nietzsche's writings indicate this is a thin line to begin with. </div>
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SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-22371220245671988292013-03-18T10:37:00.000-04:002013-03-19T12:50:10.919-04:00The Wandering Philosopher<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sidney had been cruising for a little while (walking while holding on to things), but finally made the jump to full on walking just a few weeks ago. Where once all we had to worry about was his apparent ability to teleport while crawling, now someone has to pretty much follow him around whenever he decides to walk out of whatever room we are all in (which, by the way, is <i>always</i>). Our participation in the never-ending game of Follow Sidney has lead me to an epiphany: Socrates and Lao Tzu were following toddlers around most of the time. Hear me out on this one. We are all familiar with Socrates and Lao Tzu's reported founding of Peripatetic Schools (well, you are now), wherein they wandered around and espoused teachings to anyone whom was following them along. Now, the rub is that an inordinate amount of Socratic "wisdom", much like Taoist, is versed in the form of aphorisms that the listener then figures out the "true" meaning of for himself. That is the touted "brilliance" of the methods. However, as I listen to myself, The Wife, Nana, Abuela (Socrates is multilingual), The Admiral and Abuelo following Sidney around, we're all posing what could be perceived as Socratic/Taoist questions to an observer that does not realize we are following Sidney. To illustrate, here are some of the things we have said while trailing Sidney and what an unknowing observer would take to be their "deep meaning":</div>
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That table is not going to get out of your way: We must recognize obstacles that require us to modify our paths.</div>
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Why would you cover your eyes when you are walking?: Be mindful of where you are, and what you are doing, life happens all around you, but only if you pay attention.</div>
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You can't carry that and walk at the same time: Know your limitations.</div>
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Are you seriously trying to go right back from where we just left?: Always move forward, the past is gone.</div>
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Where is your other shoe?: No, seriously, where is the damn shoe ... you just had it on a second ago and it is nowhere near where you are standing now. How does a shoe disappear?!</div>
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So the next time you hear someone drop an apparently deep truth wrapped in a mundane observation, look around, odds are they are high-tailing after an escaped toddler.</div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-11646049553775539162013-03-16T18:56:00.001-04:002013-03-16T19:53:30.666-04:00No, seriously, I am going to post more often.<p dir=ltr>My Wife has pointed out that I have all but abandoned the blog despite the fact that Sidney continues to do hilarious things. The feeble defense I proffered was that my masterfully long posts took time to craft, time I was electing to spend instead with our bouncing baby boy (or sleeping...ok, mostly sleeping).  She has since destroyed the defense with the outside the box solution of making shorter posts (forgetting that lawyers have no concept of brevity).  So, going forward, shorter, but more plentiful, posts.  </p>
<p dir=ltr>As for Sidney, he preferred the longer posts.  Gave him something to do during breakfast. </p>
<p dir=ltr>Stay tuned for musings on Sidney's recent graduation to full bore on walking.</p>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-34996241797641061512012-10-05T12:03:00.001-04:002012-10-05T12:03:41.093-04:00Off to the races.<div class="BodySingle" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>So, Sidney is mobile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It started off innocently enough, he went from “getting into the crawl position” to “dragging himself to a new location” (previously discussed) to “oh look, he’s crawling!”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was all very exciting, and The Wife and I were beaming with parental pride at our son’s development … then he learned how to teleport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know what you’re all thinking, “oh, Ed, you and your colorful hyperbole!”, but there is no other (comedic) way to describe the staggering speed at which Sidney gets from point A to point B when you are not directly watching him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not unlike observing an Uncertainty Principle experiment on a macro scale: you either know that Sidney is moving, but can’t spot him immediately, or you can pinpoint where he is exactly, but you have no idea how, or more importantly how fast, he got there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heisenberg, you had no idea how deep your theory ran.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, Sidney’s adherence to quantum laws creates some additional problems as well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, unless you are staring right at him, you have no guaranty he is going to be anywhere near his last spot if you take your gaze away from him to do something else, like, for example, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">blinking.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s playing with a toy near the couch, you blink, he’s now in front of the bedroom door, you sneeze and suddenly he’s at the wine rack pulling at a bottle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your eyes were shut for a total combined 6 nano-seconds (might have been longer, and I might have left the room momentarily, but who’s counting) and he’s traversed 15 feet, making 2 stops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Come to think of it, it’s the Uncertainty Principle wrapped around Schrödinger’s Cat: Sidney either is or is not teleporting to some new spot in the apartment, but you can’t tell until you look up and yell “WHERE DID YOU GO!?” <o:p></o:p></div>
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Second, Sidney can force objects through Einstein-Rosen-esque worm holes and/or extra-dimensional pockets, rendering them, at least temporarily, un-findable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To illustrate, he has a set of nestling cups that he loves playing with (Nana, Abuela and the Admiral have spent countless hours building towers with them for him that he gleefully knocks down).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney grabs the nestled stack of cups and within seconds half of them are nowhere to be seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have been found whole rooms away from where he was playing with them during the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only possible (not really) explanation is that he is holding onto one just as he teleports (because you blinked) and the thing is dropped off in some Calabi-Yau nook from which it emerges later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m starting to think early quantum physicists were participating in an elaborate “bring your kids to work” program when they made most of their discoveries.<o:p></o:p></div>
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All of this aside, watching a whole new world open up for Sidney is fascinating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smile on his face when he races to something he was staring at, or having him crawl from one end of the couch just to snuggle with you, brings a warmth to the heart that words do not adequately convey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish work on a multi-dimensional tracking device.<o:p></o:p></div>
SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-73235330663493819382012-08-01T15:43:00.000-04:002012-08-01T15:44:46.605-04:00Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat ...<div style="text-align: justify;">
It is difficult to describe the joy I feel watching Sidney learn something new, observing him discover his world. Despite its richness, deep reserve of synonyms and ridiculous ease of metaphor, English may simply not be equipped to accurately convey this euphoric melange of pride, happiness, excitement and amazement. What it can readily describe, however, are the emotions that follow this medley of merriment, the emotions I feel as I realize exactly <em>what</em> Sidney's particular discovery <em>means</em> for good old Mom and Dad. Here is but a smattering of my post pride realizations, and what caused them:</div>
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1. <u>We've been had!</u>: We recently had a very nice trip to Ocean City, NJ. The Wife, Sidney and Nana were there for the start, and the Admiral and I joined later in the week. During this trip Sidney discovered sand, the ocean, frozen custard and the Boardwalk. Now, at home, when Sidney is fussy around bed-time we will take him out for a walk as the motion will usually put him right to sleep. Well, he quickly discovered that in Ocean City this meant another trip to the Boardwalk. That's right, he'd fake cry and fuss until we found ourselves strolling up and down his new favorite place. It was the Wife that first made the realization, before the Admiral and I had made it down. In what was a very poignantly written chat message, I was informed that our adorable 6 month old son was playing her and Nana, shamelessly. I witnessed his act for myself later that week, and sure enough our little Three-Card Monty player was pulling in us rubes. On the one hand, this is an amazing leap in cognitive function, predicting the behavior of others and realizing that he can affect outcomes with his behavior. On the other, we've been had.</div>
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2. <u>I've been taught to fetch!</u>: Sidney has been playing with toys for a little while now, and it is always fascinating to watch him examine the objects, turn them in his hands, inevitably shove them in his mouth, and occasionally have them go flying when his exuberance outpaced his grip (l figured he was being a typical physicist and assuming zero friction for purposes of his calculations). The toy would fly in a random direction and someone (usually Mommy, Daddy, Nana or Abuela) would go retrieve it and give it back. For a little while it would be a different toy that would go flying, so I assumed (silly me) that we were still dealing with random vector equations; then came the rings. Sidney has a set of stacking rings that he will meticulously take apart and then play with the rings, mostly throwing them. I know, great! He is engaging spatial relations to enable his removal of the rings from their stacked position; full three dimensional reasoning. You know what else he was engaging in? Making us get the rings and bring them back. That's right, we were playing <em>fetch</em>. I had suspected this much, but it took having him look at a rattle he was playing with (which he until then had not intentionally thrown), look at me, throw the rattle and then look back to me for it to fully sink in; he had us trained. And, because he is my son, he smiled right at me as if to add an exclamation point to his lesson. Well played Sidney, well played.</div>
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3. <u>Holy crap, we have to move <em>everything</em>!</u>: This one just happened this week, so it is fresh on the mind. Sidney had been sitting up for a while now, but only when you put him in that position. If he fell over, he usually either rolled around, did his half-crawl/half-military drag, or complained until you sat him back up. Sure you had to keep an eye on him, but once he was down, he was staying down. Then I received the phone call from the Wife: "Sidney just sat up on his own. We were on the couch, he was laying there, I turned around, turned back and he was sitting up." He didn't repeat the feat immediately, so we thought this was a one off ... until the next morning. He had just been put down for his morning nap when he did it again ... he slid his right leg underneath himself, pushed off and was sitting. This was amazing. He had figured out his body position, what limbs needed to bend and move in what direction, how much pressure he needed to lift himself, not to mention the acting on his desire to be sitting up. This was huge! So many systems involved and he was doing it at 6 months! This was great! If he could do this, he was just a short discovery away from pulling himself u...OH CRAP WE HAVE TO MOVE EVERYTHING. At that instant our apartment went from wonderful home to baby death-trap. We have to drop the crib to the lower mattress setting; the coffee table has to go, that thing is just the right height to be dangerous; the wine racks, he might try to pull himself up on them! We had always known we would need to baby-proof the place, but it was something we had to do down the road. Well ... it's down the road. </div>
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Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to move everything ... and fetch two rattles that he threw.</div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-44665697124995974242012-07-18T12:09:00.000-04:002012-07-18T12:16:28.667-04:00Meanwhile, back at the baby food aisle ...<div class="BodySingle" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; text-align: justify;">
As I mentioned in the last post (cue flashback visual), Sidney is now eating baby food in addition to his formula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Relevant to this (and to set up this week's humor), </span>I have decided that I will try anything I am going to give Sindey first, partly because I am an over-protective father, but mostly because I want to know the likelihood he is going to spit something out so I can prepare (read: dive for cover).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s face it, if an adult is so repulsed by the flavor of something that it almost goes flying, there is a high probability the wee one is going to be nonplussed and pull a <span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">Vesuvius circa 79 CE (we save Krakatoa analogies for explosions out the other end)</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those unfamiliar with baby food, it is usually described as being simply “pureed” food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although this coveys the consistency decently, flavor is another matter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> You see, most people season their food, and there are no seasonings in baby food. It is naked food, if you will (and in front of the children no less!) </span>We’ve been at this for a few weeks now, so I have sampled a decent variety of the infant offerings made by the various purveyors of fine baby dining (the names of the innocent, and guilty, have been omitted ... mostly because I don't keep track of who makes what).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, given my hobbies as a Scotch aficionado, amateur oenologist, and general food snob, I could not help but keep notes (go with it people, work with me here) on the gustatory profiles of the different meals we have given Sidney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, without further set-up blathering, my blathering about baby food:</div>
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1) Bananas: This tastes like the essence of banana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smooth, distinct fruit notes, clean finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Varietals include bananas and berries (the berries are present breifly at the introduction, give way to the banana, but return for a hint at finish), bananas and pineapple (the slight tang of the pineapple finishes on the palate) and bananas, apples and oatmeal (don’t ask, but it works).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: Mmm, bananas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sindey’s reaction: eager consumption.</div>
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2) Apples: It’s apple sauce, but smoother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Varietals include apples and berries (the berries are forefront, give a broader sweetness), apples and pears (the pears and apples complement, but there is a distinct pear finish) and apples and insert random fruit of choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, lets just leave fruits, because pretty much the answer is “it tastes like that fruit.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: OK, fruit, I get it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sindey’s reaction: eager consumption.</div>
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3) Sweet potatoes: Consistency is softer than sweet potato mash, but firmer than the fruits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Muted sweetness gives way to a bland finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: needs brown sugar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sindey’s reaction: I’ll eat it so long as I am really hungry.</div>
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4) Squash: Firmer than the last entry, but no sweetness to be had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not quite bland, but close enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Squash flavor is identifiable, but not dominant. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: needs butter and salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney’s reaction: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re done after 5 spoonfuls; where’s that formula bottle?</div>
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5) Peas: peas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s all I got; peas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: peas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney’s reaction: pass.</div>
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6) Green beans:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nightmares from youth revisited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Canned, vaguely metallic introduction followed by hints of rubber, shrubbery and despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: But I don’t wannnnnt green beans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney’s reaction: Vesuvius.</div>
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7) Ham in ham gravy: The first of our meats,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>unfortunately, instead of pureeing ham they appear to have described ham to a first generation food replicator and packaged the result.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of the flavors you would use to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">describe</i> ham are present, but are somehow horribly wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best I can say is it looks like pink sludge and tastes only slightly better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: Vesuvius.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sindey’s reaction: not happening people. Not. Happening.</div>
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8) Rice and lentils: Upon opening one is assaulted by the smell of weeds, and it just goes down hill from there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: this tasted like mowing the lawn smells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney’s reaction: I’m not stupid, I saw his face. Good day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said good day!</div>
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9) Chicken and corn:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pleasant on the nose, hints of chicken and corn, gently sweet background.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finishes savory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: not bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney’s reaction: OK, I’ll eat this, but there better be fruit for breakfast tomorrow.</div>
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10) Sweet Corn Chowder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediate corn nose, initial sweet notes give way to a complex but hearty corn body, slightly rough finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad’s reaction: eager consumption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sidney’s reaction: why is Dad eating my food?</div>
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Depending on the reaction to this entry, I may share further tasting notes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> M</span>anagement takes no responsibility for any independent tasting undertaken by you after reading the above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your mileage may vary.</div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-36079031638969247012012-07-03T11:42:00.001-04:002012-07-03T11:43:25.983-04:00When last we saw our intrepid crew ...<div class="BodySingle" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt; text-align: justify;">
The Wife (and others) have recently asked why there has not been a blog post for a few months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer is two fold: (a) I am fully aware there are only so many pee, poop and puke posts that folks are going to be interested in reading (certain corners of the internet notwithstanding), so until Sidney started in with new tricks I had hit a content lull; and (b) if there is any spare time on any given day, I pass out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, seriously, given the choice between almost any other activity and sleep, I’d take sleep 9 times out of 10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Wife, on the other hand, would take murdering me in my sleep half the time, and sleeping the other half.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because she gets less sleep than I do, and the sight of me unconscious would rightly drive her to murderous rage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In short, Baby = Sleep{0}.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It might no be as elegant as Euler’s Equation, but it is no less immutable (let’s call it Sidney’s Equation).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This being said, over the past<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>weeks Sidney has hit some milestones that brought with them fresh comedy (but, not to worry, also poop) and thus we have a new post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, in no particular order:</div>
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1. Teething.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s start with the symptoms: drooling, fussiness, crying and general irritability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby</i> will also display some of these, in addition to: gassiness, diarrhea (told you) and the urge to chew on anything he can get into his mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teething is the largest contributor to Sidney’s Equation, or at least we think it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem being that the symptoms of teething are also the symptoms of indigestion, lack of sleep and general baby mischief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, the same “treatments” are recommended for all of these: indigestion drops/tablets, soothing rocking, teething toys and Scotch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baby</i> will also benefit from the drops/tablets, soothing rocking and teething toys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, what I am trying to say is that after a few weeks of random infant outbursts at all hours of day and night, everyone in the house is drooling, crying, fussing and being generally irritable.</div>
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2. Sidney’s First Plane Ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We recently flew down to Atlanta to introduce Sidney to the Admiral’s side of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, we’ve all seen babies on planes before, but as with most things, actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">being</i> the people with the baby changes things drastically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, you are going to be bringing a lot of stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> A lot.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our trip was for 2 days and we had the following: Car seat, car seat bag, travel stroller, travel stroller bag, large suitcase full of baby clothing, diapers, toys, spare crib bedding and breathable bumper (let it go), a smaller carry-on suitcase full of emergency baby clothing (in case he pukes or poops all over his current outfit), baby formula, more diapers, an emergency set of clothing for us (in case he pukes or poops all over us), and the Diaper Bag filled to capacity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this was just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sidney’s</i> stuff, we also had another large suitcase filled with our clothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We weren’t so much parents as Sherpa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, this isn’t even the stressful part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stress comes from having previously been the people that saw babies on planes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all do it, we see the baby and cringe, thoughts of an infant screaming for the entire flight running through our heads.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So the Wife and I, cognizant of this, were at DEFCON 3, looking for any sign of even a pursed lip so that we could spring into action and attempt to dam the melt-down flood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As luck would have it, Sidney was absolutely fine and slept for much of the flight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Having typed this, our next flight will be a disaster because the Universe has a sick sense of humor.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, then we had to collect the 3 suitcases, car seat, stroller, diaper bag and metaphorical partridge in the proverbial pear tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am amazed Nana and the Admiral haven’t shot us.</div>
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3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crawling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be fair, Sidney is not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">officially</i> crawling yet, but he’s fully aware that he can move his body to get to something that is just out of reach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That being said, his current method is to get on his belly, look up to see the thing he wants, plant his head back down and then thrust himself an inch or so in the direction of the object … dragging his face as he goes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He plainly is not happy about the face dragging, but he’s determined to get to That Thing™ right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am simultaneously amazed that at 5 months he’s figured out that locomotion is possible, and intrigued that “face dragging” has remained an option.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, not to worry, any day now I’ll be posting that he figured out that keeping his head up made locomotion easier, but we had to raise everything in the apartment by a foot.</div>
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4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eating solid food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This one is also going to get it’s own blog post shortly if for no other reason than I want to describe the flavor of different baby foods in great detail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spoiler alert: some of it borders on gustatory assault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, for now, let’s leave it at Sidney is eating small portions of “real” food twice a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The comedy comes from his almost immediate discovery that he could grab the spoon carrying the food and “help” us feed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Translation: baby now has a handful of food, a death grip on the spoon, and you have no idea how to: (a) get the spoon into his mouth; (b) get the spoon out of his hand; and (c) return the spoon into the food container to start all over <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">without</i> the tiny tot flinging, catapulting and/or otherwise launching baby food in some random direction (most likely at you).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answer is, apparently: very carefully and with little success.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and solid food turns baby poop into “real poop” after just one feeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s the gift that keeps on giving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Has anybody seen my Scotch?</div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-12664341817056675052012-02-28T11:58:00.001-05:002012-02-28T11:58:41.379-05:00So You Want To Give The Baby A Bath ...<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let's give the baby a bath. Could it sound any easier? Any more relaxing? Any more innocuous? Of course not; it <em>sounds</em> like the epitome of "cake walk." Moreover, does not introducing a bathing schedule for your little bundle of joy make perfect sense? I mean, is not cleanliness next to godliness, etc and so forth? The problem is not with the concept (which my semi-rhetorical questions rightfully laud), but with the reality. You see, no matter how much you prepare and stage for the bath, your baby is going to make sure it is an adventure. Why? Because no plan, regardless of how well conceived and meticulously drawn, survives contact with the <strike>enemy</strike> little bastards, whom just love keeping us on our toes (I keep telling people, forget the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Expect-When-Youre-Expecting/dp/0761148574/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330384311&sr=8-1" target="_blank">What to Expect</a> series, just read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Art-War-Sun-Tzu/dp/0195014766/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1330384359&sr=1-3" target="_blank">Sun Tzu</a> to prepare for child rearing).</div>
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The support for my only slightly hyperbolic, but wholly plausible, claim? Glad you asked. Behold my scientifically relevant (not at all) and mathematically sound (who are we kidding) listing of the potential outcomes of attempting to give your newborn a bath. Please note that the list is in order of descending probability, because we might as well start with the sure things and work our way down to the item so unlikely that it has only ever been substantiated by anecdotal evidence proffered by weary travellers around a camp-fire (much like Big Foot, UFOs, the Loch Ness Monster and Reasonably Priced Gas):</div>
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1) <em>Something</em> will make the baby cry and thrash. Now, this would not be anywhere near as entertaining if you knew <em>what</em> it was that was going to make the child cry, or even if the <em>same thing</em> made them cry each time. No, it is a journey through the heart of quantum random number generation. Being put in the water makes baby cry ... no wait, it doesn't. Having water splash on the baby's face is fine ... no wait, it is cause for melt-down. Being disrobed for the bath brings forth the sound of a banshee, no wait, only kidding, disrobing is A OK ... no wait, now it causes two banshees to have a shouting match while fighting over an air-raid siren someone left blaring ... no, never mind, being naked is fine. Each day brings a new cause for the cacophony, except for the one day when he's absolutely fine for the entire bath ... but starts wailing the moment you take him out of the water. Son of a ...</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
2) The baby will pee. On you, in the tub, on the side of the sink, on the counter ... it's going to go somewhere. <em>When</em> will the baby pee you ask? I have no idea. Sometimes it is when you first put them in the water. Makes sense, right? Warm water hits the privates and bam, the baby pees. Except, sometimes the baby can sit there for a few minutes before peeing, so it isn't the rush of the warm water maybe. But then sometimes he pees while you are disrobing him before ever getting near the bathtub, which may be caused the by cold air hitting the baby ... however there are also the fun times when he pees on Daddy when proud Papa is standing holding the baby waiting to take him to the bath and Mommy stands there rightfully laughing her head off. Oh, and there are also days when there is no pee around bath time. So, essentially, I have no blessed idea when or why exactly there is going to be pee, but there is going to be pee 85% of the time.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
3) The baby might poop in the tub. This one moved up the list thanks to an incident just this week. "Unfortunately," I was not home to witness the event, but My Wife was (obviously), and so here it is: you put the baby in the bath, go to lather the tyke up, but before you can say "don't you pee in the bath this time" lo and behold ... he has pooped in the water. Explanations for the phenomenon range from the sensible (the warm water hitting the baby's bottom and tummy relax the sphincter and ... poop), to the plausible (crying tenses the baby's intestinal tract and ... poop), to the paranoid (the little bastards want to mess with us and ... poop). Hey, I warned you that an overwhelming number of posts would involve this stuff; truth in advertising is all I can say.</div>
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4) You could get soaked. The trick to this entry is not the soaking, because, let's face it, you are putting a baby in tub full of water; if you have any sense, the thought "I may get wet here" has to cross your mind. No, the reason for this making the list is that you are going to cause the situation more often than the baby does. Sure, he may splash a little, but that isn't what is going to get you. Nope, what gets you is that you will either: (a) panic that you may lose your grasp on the wet baby and consequently hold the soaked child tightly to yourself; (b) go to dump the water out of the tub, but miscalculate the amount of water and get a huge back-splash in the sink (oh, yeah, I'm the <em>only</em> one to do this); or (c) get peed on by the tyke as you stand there waiting to put him in the tub as your spouse laughs their head off (hey, soaked is soaked).</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
5) The baby gets bathed. It's a pipe dream people. You manage to get water and a little bit of soap on the wiggle worm, call it a victory.</div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-90054077216999585932012-02-13T12:03:00.003-05:002012-02-13T12:03:25.852-05:00Clean-up on Aisle 6 ...<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Babies make messes, or, more
precisely (given that babies do not intentionally create the situations … I
think), messes happen in exceedingly close proximity to babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Useful as this aphorism may be, it is the
more vulgar formulation that is familiar: babies poop, puke and pee all over
the place (no, seriously, all over the place).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As I have previously mentioned, poop/puke/pee posts are likely to be
plentiful given that for the first year or so of life, it seriously seems like
humans produce an inordinate amount of all 3, and parents traditionally deal
with the tsunami of waste in comical fashion (at least My Wife and I do).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today’s post was inspired by a spectacular
diaper explosion that not only saw Sidney’s poop and pee flying to and fro, but
came within 1 or 2 psi of bladder pressure from making My Wife pee herself with
laughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right, my kid peeing
all over the place almost caused My Wife to pee all over the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It started innocently
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We realized Sidney needed a
change (thanks to a wetness strip on his diaper, more below), and took him over
to the changing table (indispensable piece of furniture).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Off comes the diaper, full of pee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly - and I am not talking “oh my, that was
unexpected” here, I am talking “SWEET BABY JESUS, ALL I DID WAS BLINK” – our
beloved child decided it was time to imitate a Play-Doh Fun Factory™ being
operated by Popey on a spinach, steroid and cocaine bender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As My Wife wisely dove out of the way of the avalanche
(poop-alanche?), I attempted to keep Sidney from slamming his legs into the
pile of baby butt soft-serve (you’re welcome for the mental image) forming
underneath him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No sooner than we
thought this was under control, he starts peeing … a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So now we’re keeping him from getting the
crap-sundae on his legs while simultaneously attempting to aim the lawn-sprinkler
away from himself, us and the furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When the reality of the situation hit her, My Wife starts laughing and
mid guffaw announces that if she doesn’t stop laughing soon she will pee
herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I initially thought this casual
hyperbole, until I noticed she was bending over and fighting to keep her legs
pinned together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Poopy the Pee
Sprinkler on the changing table and the Lovely Mrs. Don’t Let Me Pee Myself to
my right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than going for cheap
potty humor, what was the purpose of telling you this anecdote?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, believe it or not clean-up of this
fiasco was a snap thanks to the following indispensable items:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1) </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trax-Super-Absorbent-Training-Pads/dp/B0030T141C/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1329100018&sr=8-1"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Housetraining/Pee-pee
pads</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hear me out people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know that awesome changing table I keep telling
you about?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, imagine what would
happen each time we had a poop and/or pee explosion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of this would end up on the changing table,
necessitating numerous cleanings and replacements of the table tops/padded
covers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know what house-training pads
are made to absorb/protect against?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pee
and poo!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You lay one of these bad boys
down on the changing table and if (and by if, I mean when) there is the poo/pee
explosion, it hits the disposable pad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You clean up the kid, wrap up the crap, diaper, and soiled cleaning
implements (more below) in the pad and toss the whole mess (sans kid).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The icing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These things are insanely cheap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A low cost, high impact solution to an omnipresent
(when you have an infant) problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also,
when people come over and see the box sitting in the nursery, you can always
quip of course you have the pads, you’re house training an infant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Management of this Blog takes no
responsibility for any calls to Child Protective Services made by your guests
whom lack a sense of humor and/or common sense.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2) </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trax-Super-Absorbent-Training-Pads/dp/B0030T141C/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1329100018&sr=8-1"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Cotton
Squares</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the first few weeks,
use of even the most gentle diaper wipes is not advised because you can (and
will) irritate the hell out of the baby’s bits with all the changes/cleanings
you’ll be doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Using cotton balls in
place of the wipes is recommended, but only by people who have never tried to
wipe the poop coated ass of a kicking baby with a wet cotton ball (or who have,
but want to share their misery).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a
flash of inspiration (and luck), I picked up cotton squares reasoning that (a)
they, like the cotton balls, were 100% soft cotton; (b) because they were
square pads they would not ball up and fall apart like cotton balls, and could
be folded so as to get poop out of baby folds; and (c) they are marketed as
being sturdy enough to take 12 layers of make-up off of your average Jersey
Shore wanna-be (I likely made this last part up).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In any event, they work like a charm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3) </span><a href="http://www.diapers.com/p/pampers-swaddlers-sensitive-diapers-xl-case-99456"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Diapers
With Wetness Indicators</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no
idea if all diapers come with wetness indicators, but they should.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot over-state the utility of these
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time, your baby will
let you know when the diaper needs changing (of course, you may not figure out
this is what they are telling you at first … someone really should offer “infant”
as a language course), but every so often they don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be it because they are asleep, in a position
where they don’t feel the wet diaper, or simply in a mood to mess with you
(this happens more often than you think), you don’t get the warning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aside from not wanting to leave your child
soaking in their waste (that’s right, I just played the guilt card … I am well
on my way to full blown parent mode), the more pee that soaks into a diaper the
more likely you are to have an over-flow situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t want an over-flow situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I have previously commented, baby pee is
rancid stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remain unconvinced that
it is not in fact produced by his kidneys, but instead teleported from one of the
seven rivers of the underworld (given the stench, I am thinking the Cocytus or
Acheron) to the diaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So knowing that
the diaper is nearing saturation is valuable information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The line turns blue, you change the
diaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No guess work, no false alarms
and, most importantly, fewer spills of hell water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">4) </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dreft-Laundry-Remover-22-Ounce-Bottle/dp/B000ZHS6A4/ref=sr_1_1?s=hpc&ie=UTF8&qid=1329082645&sr=1-1"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Dreft
Stain Remover</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will be
messes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This cannot be understated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes the messes will get on bibs, burp cloths,
clothing, bedding, you name it; and you’ll need to clean it up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Particularly troublesome are formula
spills/spit up/stains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, baby
formula is wonderfully high in protein (a very good thing for the baby), which,
as anybody who has ever watched a detergent commercial (or an episode of CSI) knows, makes for particularly
nasty stains (insert dissertation on proteins' reactive nature and ability to make strong chemical bonds to carbon molecules here).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On top of its amazing
staining properties, protein also coagulates very quickly when exposed to heat and enzymes (<em>see</em>:
digestion). This means that when a baby spits up, you get a clumping gelatinous staining mess that tenaciously adheres to fabrics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> To top it all off, urine and poo also have a high protein content (different proteins, obviously, but proteins none-the-less). </span>Sidney is 3 weeks old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So far he averages 4 spit-up and/or pee induced clothing changes a day (have
I mentioned messes spring up around babies often?), and at least 3 t-shirt
splatters a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At any given moment
there is baby formula, pee, poop and/or spit-up on something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want
the stains lifted and the clumps washed off?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dreft does the job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Correction, Dreft eradicates
stains. Intellectually, I understand that as a detergent it is simply an amphiphilic (likely cationic) surficant (albeit an ingeniously formulated one). But when you see a giant stain disappear in seconds, it might as well be magic. Seriously, this stuff makes OxyClean look
like seltzer water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have a
baby?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get Dreft.</span></div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-19028640209237971862012-02-07T13:28:00.001-05:002012-02-07T13:28:29.729-05:00The Baby Ate My Homework ...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It should be no surprise (at
least not if you have read prior posts) to hear that My Wife and I like to be
prepared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We research, read, inquire,
analyze, poke, prod and experiment (and not always in that order).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personally, this methodology has served me
well in life, and I was relatively certain it would work with child rearing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My plan was steadily bolstered as My Wife
bought more books, found more web sites and otherwise dug up more information
on all things baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, I am an
academic at heart, thus having reference materials available gives me a sense
of comfort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact I am writing about
this, however, obviously means this was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">false</i>
sense of comfort (because, honestly, there is little humor to be had from “and the
plan worked out perfectly”).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">post hoc</i> “obvious” reason for the
failure of my plan is that no matter how much reading and preparing you do,
raising a child is the epitome of “you have to actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> it to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">understand</i> it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, this is not because we are dealing with
some esoteric art, bordering on ethereal knowledge, which is incapable of conveyance
by something as clumsy and brutish as human language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, the truth is ridiculously mundane: every
baby is going to be just different enough from every other baby so as to awry
(go with me here) the best laid plans of mice and men (yes, a tortured use of
Burns’s poem and Steinbeck’s title was the pay-off; sue me).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
short, apparently you learn to be a parent by being a parent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Personally, this revelation,
although very helpful, is a bit anticlimactic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More to the point, given that we are still so early on in our
parenthood, the urge to romanticize the process still grips me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in this vein that I started thinking,
what if there was a way to effectively study to be a parent? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A baccalaureate in parenting program, if you
will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would the course work look
like, knowing what I do now?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I am
glad you (and by “you” I mean “I”) asked:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Milk/Formula Dynamics (Applied Chemistry).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For at least the first 6 months of life, your
child should only ingest two things: Breast Milk and/or Formula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this class you learn how to store, handle
and dispense these volatile substances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Topics
covered: Hungry Child Thermodynamics (a bottle takes twice as long to warm up if
the child is hungry, three times as long if he is screaming); Inverse Fluidity
(flow through a bottle nipple will slow the closer it is to the child’s mouth,
but accelerate near clothing, furniture or portions of the child’s face that is
not the mouth); and Variable Stain Setting (staining potential of the fluids is
directly proportional to the value of the item spilled on).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Newborn Parent Mind (Abnormal Psychology).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You now are 100% responsible for keeping an
otherwise helpless human alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
course will examine behavioral manifestations of this responsibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Topics covered: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obsessive Hovering; Obsessive Breathing
Checks; Obsessive Movement Checks; Obsessive Diaper Checks; Did He Just Cry Checks;
and, No Seriously Is He Still Breathing Checks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Lifting (Phys. Ed).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will have to maneuver through certain
activities holding a child from time to time, and this class teaches you the proper
techniques.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Topics covered: Mounting and
dismounting the couch with a sleeping baby; preparing the bottle one handed;
speed eating; cleaning up one handed; and proper holding of a child with soiled
diaper (the advanced extended arm techniques).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">4)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep Seminar (Classics).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much like Homer, Ovid, Virgil, Seneca and Boethius,
sleep is now an artifact of the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Topics covered: Remembering sleep; Just one hour … for the love of God;
and I bet I can catch 10 minutes of sleep on that stool over there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">5) Expulsion Mechanics (Applied
Physics).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fluids and solids of varying
viscosity and density, respectively, will be expelled by your child at unpredictable
speeds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although prevention is an impossibility,
containment and damage minimization is possible through a deeper understanding
of the mechanics of the “blow-outs”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Topics Covered:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Urine Pressure
Differentials (pee flows faster the further from the diaper); Secondary Poop
Blast (the initial poop’s contact with oxygen can cause an immediate second
poop); Puke Vectors (puke will travel along whatever non-linear path necessary
to reach your shirt); and Catastrophic Chain Blow-Out Dynamics (cleaning up any
one expulsion and cause blow-outs in any other system). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Attendance is taken in all
classes, with the exception of the Sleep Seminar, which gets cut with alarming
regularity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-62802330866275949982012-02-02T12:37:00.000-05:002012-02-02T12:37:41.397-05:00Don't Delay; Order Now!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I previously mentioned (once
or thrice), My Wife performed considerable research during her pregnancy
concerning all things baby (including Daddy Diaper Bags as you may
recall).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, I appreciated her
thoroughness but quietly (for me) held the opinion that most of the stuff she
was looking into was little more than gimmicky (dig the fancy lingo) versions
of the crap (again with the fancy) we actually needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that we’ve had some time with the boy, I
can report that I was right with respect to some of the products, but I was
also very wrong with respect to others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So as to make it manageable (and to give me the opportunity to make more
posts, naturally), I am going to break my observations/reviews into multiple
postings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the coming days we will
cover the “wow, that was useless” group as well as the “these are ok, but we
paid <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how much</i>?” bunch; but for today
we start with the “holy crap, these are sanity saving” items.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cutting to the chase, if you are about to have
a kid, get these, trust me:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1) </span><a href="http://www.tommeetippee.us/bottle_feeding.html"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Tommee Tippee Newborn
Bottles</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">: Babies belch; shocking I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More importantly, babies belch because they swallow air during
feeding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know what else swallowing
air during feeding causes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fussy,
unhappy babies that scream bloody murder because they are uncomfortable; oh,
and the built up air pressure means they will projectile vomit … we’re talking
distance <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> volume projectile
vomiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He didn’t eat that much, how
is he still spewing?!” projectile vomiting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Breastfed babies swallow less air because when they latch onto the boob,
there is a good tight seal; bottle fed babies may get less of a seal depending
on the bottle top shape, fluid flow through the bottle nipple and/or other
manner of air infiltration into the bottle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Solution? Bottles with nipples that mimic boobs enough to create a tight
seal, even fluid flow and otherwise limits air infiltration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tommee Tippee bottles are basically mini
boobs (my understanding is that there are other brands that also do this).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In short, get your kid mini-boob bottles or
deal with a screaming, burping, projectile vomiting child (and we all remember
how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> movie ended).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bonus: you feel slightly naughty washing the
bottles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2) </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Munchkin-Hammer-Diaper-Pail-White/dp/B002V92XAS"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Arm
& Hammer Diaper Pail</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">: This one shocked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was certain … <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">certain</i> I tell you … that this was nothing more than Arm &
Hammer’s attempt to get into the garbage bag and pail business.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was dead wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Diapers stink; stop laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those of you that have children, you know
what I mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To those that don’t:
everything that comes out of your child’s waste management parts is
noxious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pee?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not urine, but rather some mixture of liquid
ammonium nitrate, uric acid and devil’s sweat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Poop? After the meconium clears out (an odorless, tar-like substance that
babies pass for the first 24 hours or so of life, accurately described by
Sidney’s Godfather in the comments below), what you get is a toxic sludge that
smells not of familiar sulfur and methane, but some acrid distillate of butyric
acid, pyridine and hobo’s sweat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
situation is exacerbated by the fact that you will be changing your child’s diaper
10-12 times on a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">good</i> day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s a dozen bundles of mass olfactory
destruction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want to have your
regular garbage full of these things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More to the point, do you think you can?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Unless you are suffering with anosmia, the rational answer is a stern
(and nose pinched) “no.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enter the Arm
& Hammer Diaper Pail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This thing seals
off the diapers you deposit and automatically sprinkles a bit of baking soda on
top (sodium bicarbonate, you absorbing wonder).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Each bag will hold around 24 Stage 1 diapers – and even if it was only
3, it would still be worth it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your nose
(and your neighbors’ noses) will thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3) </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tommee-Tippee-Newborn-Shield-Pacifier/dp/B004RA8OTI"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Tommee
Tippee Newborn Shield Pacifier</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Pacifier’s
are horrible, deform the soft palate and lead to speech impediments later in
life; I will <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> allow my child to
use a pacifier.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, we read those “reports”
from “experts” too, and despite my reluctance to allow the research of extreme
cases (prolonged and persistent pacifier use long beyond the newborn and well
into the toddler phase) to create an absolute rule, I was ok with avoiding the
use.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A newborn does not care one whit about your
opinion and will scream his/her bloody head off until soothed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Your</i>
child can be soothed by something else?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hallelujah,
congratulations and feel free to move on to the next item.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the rest (and the realistic), odds are
you are going to break down (unless you want to hear your child bawl at the top
of his/her lungs) and agree to go with a pacifier during the newborn phase for
soothing purposes (you can wean them off the things later on; 0-3 months is not
the time for philosophical stands).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
being said, a pacifier that mimics the thing kids are sticking in their mouths
at this point anyhow (nipples and tiny fingers) and that does not press against
the soft palate is ideal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enter the
Tommee Tippee Pacifier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tiny, flexible
and soothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For now it solves his fussiness
when he is falling asleep, soothes him when he’s antsy and over-all makes life
better for the family unit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another
benefit is that giving your newborn a pacifier will annoy sanctimonious
pissants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The takeaway: you are going to
end up using a pacifier unless you are a sociopath/sadist/sanctimonious pissant,
so use these.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">4) </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B001FA0CN4/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_3?pf_rd_p=486539851&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-1&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B001FA0CNO&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=0M47JNWJ2P207DHH9MGY"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Calibri;">Badger
Basket Changing Table</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my
ignorance I was convinced that any solid surface was going to be sufficient to
change a diaper, so why in the name of Plank’s Constant would we spend money on
a “changing table”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The couch is a “changing
table” I argued, as are the bed, the dining room table, the floor and the
kitchen counter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hell, storing a
changing pad was one of the reasons I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needed</i>
to have a diaper bag I railed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I
changed a diaper … you need a changing table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It puts the baby at the perfect height, keeps him/her from rolling
around, stores all the supplies you need within arm’s reach (and trust me, it
has to be at arm’s reach) and gives you a padded surface to bang your head
after the changing is complete (and you will want to bang your head
sometimes).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More important than all of
this, however, is the fact that without a changing table you will be buying a
new couch, mattress, dining room table and/or kitchen counter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because your kid will not necessarily be done “going” just because you
started changing the diaper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pee will
shoot out the moment you have the diaper off, as will poop; on particularly bad
days it is like having a combined lawn-sprinkler/soft-serve pump assault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of that would be on your other furniture
but-for the changing table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Get one
people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, if you will all excuse me, I
think we need to get Sidney to the changing table (he just finished the
mini-boob).<o:p></o:p></span></div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-77537226272514390292012-01-30T14:00:00.003-05:002012-01-30T14:00:59.499-05:00This Post is Brought to You by the Numbers 1 and 2<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I started this blog, I
suspected there would eventually be a baby poop/pee/puke post (let’s be
realistic here, I knew there would be many of them), but the important thing
for me was that it be more than simply rambling on about how much a tiny person
can expel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I did not take into
consideration when formulating this mandate, however, was that tracking how
much comes out of your bundle of joy (and whether it is pee, poop or puke) is of
paramount importance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, My Wife
informed me that in order to be certain that all of his plumbing is in perfect
working order, Sidney needs to have X pee diapers a day, Y poop diapers a day
and as little puke (technically “spit up”, but if it went down and then came
back up, I am calling it puke damnit) as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From what she told me, and as best as I can
derive from the literature she cited (that I actually read), X and Y are
limited dependent variables (god I am a dork), calculated as a function of his
age, in days, for the first week or so and thereafter a function of how much he
ate at the immediate prior feedings (forget dork, I just turned into my Calc II
professor, someone shoot me).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puke we
want at 0, but need it to be less than “a good chunk” of his immediately preceding
feeding (pun intended; loose definition necessitated by reality).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Long boring story short, we count diapers and
what was in them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, aside from making
me think “wow, having a baby involves <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">a
lot</i> more math than I had thought”, this basically means that I spend a good
portion of my day concerning myself with what, and how much, is coming out of
Sidney.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best laid plans, blah blah blah,
here we go with a post about how much a tiny person can expel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our boy is currently eating
between 2 to 4 ounces a feeding, and feeds every 2.5 to 3.5 hours on average
(mean, not median … <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dear god I can’t stop
with the math</i>).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contrary to my
initial assumption (based mostly on wishful thinking), this does not mean he is
going to expel between 2 to 4 ounces in combined pee and poo in between
feedings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What actually happens the
majority of the time is one of the following:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We get around 3 diapers between feedings: 2
pee diapers which appear to have been filled by a college student half-way through
a kegger, and one poop diaper which contains enough excrement to choke a
toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no idea how he does it, but
by all indications he is violating the first law of thermodynamics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks to a generous Paternity Leave Policy,
I am able to spend Sidney’s first month home helping to care for him (I cannot
overstate how civilized this practice is; seriously major businesses of
America, the only reason to deny your employees this benefit is abject greed).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mention this only because being home means
that I see what he eats … all of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
can state, with only enough hyperbole for effect, that he appears to be pumping
out a good portion more than he takes in;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know whether to call CERN or chalk it up to the magic of babies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2) We don’t get a diaper between
feedings and find ourselves asking the kid to please pee or poo soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why, yes, this one <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">does</i> lead to “well, we asked for it” moments … how ever did you
know? More precisely, what ends up happening in this scenario is that we get so
obsessed with whether he is “blocked up” or not that we start checking his
diaper every 10 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole “your
kid is going to pee on you” aphorism that every parent tells you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one you get sick of hearing? Well, turns
out that 9 times out of 10 the reason your kid pees on you is that you keep
opening up his diaper at the first sign of moisture because you are happy he
finally peed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem with this is
that he’s most likely not done yet, so you open the diaper, he stops peeing …
then starts again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cue sprinkler.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same goes with poo, and when this one
happens, trust me you find yourself praying to multiple deities that he does
not fart before you can get the diaper back up (I call these “back blast”
moments).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However you look at it, “ask
and ye shall receive” takes on new meaning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, I am reluctant to broach the
puke topic out of nothing deeper than rank superstition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the exception of one “projectile vomit”
incident, precipitated by not burping him enough, we have had a blissfully puke
free existence for the past week and 3 days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Will this last? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reality dictates
that, no, this will not last in the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Truth be told, anecdotal evidence (tales from other parents, countless
books and various scenes from slap-stick comedies) points to quite a bit of
puke being in our immediate future, much of which is likely to continue Sidney’s
track record of violating basic laws of physics. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That being said, why tempt Fate/D’jinns/Vengeful
Gods/Imps/Gremlins?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless typing that
sentence is enough to tempt them … in which case mentioning the relatively puke
free existence will have no additional effect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Superstition is hard … can we go back to math?<o:p></o:p></span></div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1139212298007949644.post-21331872260959394252012-01-27T09:59:00.000-05:002012-01-27T13:10:03.479-05:00Week One<div style="text-align: justify;">
Hackneyed phrases about the relative speed and/or aeronautical qualities of time (when having fun or otherwise) aside, Sidney is one week old today. Given that this short period of time we have spent together is not nearly enough for me to realistically discuss his personality, likes, etc. as of yet (oh, and there is the whole thing about him only being one week old), what we can discuss are the changes in my daily routine introduced by Sidney. Some of them I expected, some were a surprise, but I will endeavor to make them all entertaining for you (I said <em>endeavor</em>; lawyers should always avoid stating absolutes ... oh crap).</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
1) I no longer have a committed relationship with sleep, but rather a clandestine affair. "New baby? Say goodbye to sleep!" is what you hear from every Tom, Dick and Captain Obvious that finds out you are expecting a child. However, not only is this formulation of the "fact" beyond purple-prose (which reminds me, is "purple prose"<em> itself</em> purple prose at this point?), but it is quite inaccurate. You do not "say goodbye to sleep", because it is still in your life; what you do is start an affair with sleep. Hear me out on this one. No longer is it a certain part of your life, waiting for you at the end of a long day with a warm kiss and gentle embrace. No, sleep is now something you sneak away with, hoping you don't get caught by the jealous and possessive Feeding Time, Changing Time, and/or I Want To Be Up Now Daddy Time. What you now have with sleep are highly anticipated, but sporadic, interludes on beds, couches, and chairs, stolen moments during the day, and as euphoric and satisfying as each encounter is, you are constantly either fearing being interrupted or are burdened with a tremendous guilt for giving in to the desire. You catch yourself day-dreaming about sleep, about the next time you'll get to steal away for a nap ... I mean tryst. Sleep is still in your life, it is just something you have to sneak around for, make elaborate plans to get, and if caught doing it by any of the jealous Times, you will be sorry.<br />
<br />
2) I see sunrises. I know there are a good portion of you that likely are up before the sun each day (*cough*the Admiral and Nana*cough*), but that generally was not me. The Wife and I moved into the City last year for many reasons, one of which being that we'd have better commutes to work. Case in point, I now walk to work in under 15 minutes. This means that I have been able to stave off starting my day until 8 on average, and we wont discuss weekends. Even before that, my day rarely started before 7, and you'd have to go all the way back to law school for when I regularly saw sunrises, and then it was usually because I had <em>stayed</em> up to sunrise, not <em>woken up </em>just before it. My point? To me sunrises were things discussed by poets, weathermen and insomniacs. Now, sunrises are what happen during a Feeding Time. I am not complaining, because Sindey is wonderful company, I am just saying I need to brush up on my open verse because I can't track barometric pressure and I am not buying Snuggies(tm) at 3am.<br />
<br />
3) I schedule everything around Feeding Times. This one sounds obvious, and I <em>thought</em> I was ready for it. The problem with my plan (aside from contact with reality ... thank you Sun Tzu) was how I had defined "Feeding Time." You see, I was under the foolish impression that once Sidney ate, setting Feeding Times was going to be as easy as feeding him and then counting forward x hours to the next Feeding Time, x being a straight function of his age, stomach size and appetite. Cue Family Feud Buzzer. It turns out that x is, in fact, a wave function (although at times it feels more like a random transposition model or some other stochastic process) subject to multiple variables, only a few of which are knowable. In simpler terms, a Feeding Times is when Sindey decides it is a Feeding Time. This makes planning anything (showering, cleaning up, eating, writing a witty blog) interesting. For the most part, the resulting schedule looks like this: do whatever it is you were planning on doing immediately after a Feeding Time, and make sure it takes two hours or less. (Case in point, finishing this entry has taken 4 tries.)<br />
<br />
4) Clocks, watches, calendars, sun dials and all other manner of reckoning time are baffling. I don't know whether it is garden variety disorientation, exotic date/time term specific aphasia, or House M.D. inspired sleep deprivation induced psychosis, but I have no idea what time and/or day it is at any given moment. Looking at a clock and/or calendar does not help either; all that accomplishes is that I stare blankly at the device and wonder if it needs to be fed or changed. After a few moments, though, clarity occasionally sets in and I am jarred back to reality. The whole experience is only relatively off, however, as I can still fathom distance and discern speed (who doesn't love a physics pun).<br />
<br />
Sidney is stirring, which means it is a Feeding Time. I am starting to wonder if Schrödinger was babysitting when he had his epiphany. </div>SandmanEsqhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16998794244614212813noreply@blogger.com0