"No Boob tonight" Mommy announced as she re-appeared after putting you to bed tonight. "I guess last night was the last time I'll ever nurse him to sleep".
The plan all along was to breast feed you for the first year. I don't think we expected our timing to be so good -- tomorrow is one year since your due date.
If I haven't told you so already, seeing you nurse was always precious.
It is a condition of Fatherhood to be excluded from that most essential of relationships. But unique to fathers is our perspective as intimate Third Party. A vantage not unlike the majestic helplessness of witnessing birth, allowing us to appreciate nonetheless a special bond we'll never really understand.
Dad
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
greens
Dylan,
You're a big fan of green vegetables. It might not last long, but for now you love eating green beans, broccoli, peas, even the green baby foods like spinach & potatoes, or green beans & brown rice.
Mommy and I consider it an achievement.
Even your teachers at school were suprised to see that you would eat the green jarred stuff.
Thanks.
You are a joy.
Daddy
You're a big fan of green vegetables. It might not last long, but for now you love eating green beans, broccoli, peas, even the green baby foods like spinach & potatoes, or green beans & brown rice.
Mommy and I consider it an achievement.
Even your teachers at school were suprised to see that you would eat the green jarred stuff.
Thanks.
You are a joy.
Daddy
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
frog names
dylan,
I took the liberty of naming your wall frogs. They are (from right to left) King, Theo, and Conspicuous.
dad
I took the liberty of naming your wall frogs. They are (from right to left) King, Theo, and Conspicuous.
dad
seventeen others
Dylan,
Using just your first and last names, reportedly there are 17 other You's:
Dad
ps: I managed to skirt the age requirement question for you (13 years). That probably explains why it thinks "over 99.9% of people in the U.S. named 'Dylan' are male" while we've heard it's a hot new name for girls.
Speaking of names, an interesting bit of trivia we picked up while finding one for you, other than "grasshopper", has to do with boys names becoming girls names. The list of primarily feminine names that used to be primarily masculine includes Ashley, Beverly, Carol, Evelyn, Hillary, Jocelyn, Meredith, Nicole, Shirley, Shannon, and Vivian. The interesting bit here is that historically names only switch one way. There is no comparable list of boys-names-that-used-to-be-girls-names.
It remains to be seen whether our chosen spelling for You is on that same path. Either way, I expect that you'll be happy enough with who you are that it won't bother you anyhow.
Dad
Using just your first and last names, reportedly there are 17 other You's:
Dad
ps: I managed to skirt the age requirement question for you (13 years). That probably explains why it thinks "over 99.9% of people in the U.S. named 'Dylan' are male" while we've heard it's a hot new name for girls.
Speaking of names, an interesting bit of trivia we picked up while finding one for you, other than "grasshopper", has to do with boys names becoming girls names. The list of primarily feminine names that used to be primarily masculine includes Ashley, Beverly, Carol, Evelyn, Hillary, Jocelyn, Meredith, Nicole, Shirley, Shannon, and Vivian. The interesting bit here is that historically names only switch one way. There is no comparable list of boys-names-that-used-to-be-girls-names.
It remains to be seen whether our chosen spelling for You is on that same path. Either way, I expect that you'll be happy enough with who you are that it won't bother you anyhow.
Dad
south paw
d-
It's too early to tell, but you seem to prefer your left hand for some things including eating.
I think life is just a little bit rougher for Lefties, but your chances of pitching in the Big Leagues go up considerably.
dad
It's too early to tell, but you seem to prefer your left hand for some things including eating.
I think life is just a little bit rougher for Lefties, but your chances of pitching in the Big Leagues go up considerably.
dad
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
soy what?
Dylan,
I'm reminded again that you are a native Californian. You love tofu.
Not only will you gobble down surprising amounts of the Extra Firm variety, but you'll eat it straight outta the box, unprepared save for cutting it into pinchable little cubes.
Last night I broke open the package of Tofurky Italian Sausages Mom bought recently. Perhaps a bit too spicy, I wondered, but it was no problem for a kid with a Sun-Dried Tomato & Habanero tortilla habit.
I'm glad you liked it, 'cause I think it otherwise had a date with an expiration, if you know what I mean. In fact, you made it clear that you preferred the sausage to the couscous and veggie mixture you had gotten almost half way through already, and porked out on sausage for the duration.
Dad
ps: Can you tell which one is the Tofurky? ;-)
I'm reminded again that you are a native Californian. You love tofu.
Not only will you gobble down surprising amounts of the Extra Firm variety, but you'll eat it straight outta the box, unprepared save for cutting it into pinchable little cubes.
Last night I broke open the package of Tofurky Italian Sausages Mom bought recently. Perhaps a bit too spicy, I wondered, but it was no problem for a kid with a Sun-Dried Tomato & Habanero tortilla habit.
I'm glad you liked it, 'cause I think it otherwise had a date with an expiration, if you know what I mean. In fact, you made it clear that you preferred the sausage to the couscous and veggie mixture you had gotten almost half way through already, and porked out on sausage for the duration.
Dad
ps: Can you tell which one is the Tofurky? ;-)
Friday, October 20, 2006
fool-proof?
D,
You've managed to figure out the "child-proof" latches on the kitchen cabinets faster than I could. I'm still routinely found tugging on this or that cabinet door only to be quickly and soundly rejected with a "thunk" by a combination of my own(!) handiwork and some too-well reinforced neural pathways, each time reminded of said handiwork and said pathways. Meanwhile, you're crawling over to a cabinet, standing up and opening the door a crack before pulling the latch down and... voila, access!
Seven weeks. You've only been home from vacation since the beginning of last month. These things were supposed to have you stumped waaaay longer than this. I don't know how long, just waaaay longer than this.
Sheesh.
Dad
You've managed to figure out the "child-proof" latches on the kitchen cabinets faster than I could. I'm still routinely found tugging on this or that cabinet door only to be quickly and soundly rejected with a "thunk" by a combination of my own(!) handiwork and some too-well reinforced neural pathways, each time reminded of said handiwork and said pathways. Meanwhile, you're crawling over to a cabinet, standing up and opening the door a crack before pulling the latch down and... voila, access!
Seven weeks. You've only been home from vacation since the beginning of last month. These things were supposed to have you stumped waaaay longer than this. I don't know how long, just waaaay longer than this.
Sheesh.
Dad
desktop
Dylan,
Every parent thinks their child is the most beautiful ever, but not every parent gets to enjoy the consensus view that their child is a phenomenally, exceptionally, amazingly cute little boy.
And it doesn't hurt that you know how to work it for the camera.
Mommy has this picture on her computer desktop and it brings a smile to her heart every time she closes that last open window.
Dad
Every parent thinks their child is the most beautiful ever, but not every parent gets to enjoy the consensus view that their child is a phenomenally, exceptionally, amazingly cute little boy.
And it doesn't hurt that you know how to work it for the camera.
Mommy has this picture on her computer desktop and it brings a smile to her heart every time she closes that last open window.
Dad
side sleeper
Dylan,
You are never more precious, more beautiful, than when you're fed, bathed, pj'd and falling asleep in someone's arms.
Over the last several weeks you've solidified your preference for rolling onto your left side to sleep after we put you in your crib at night. Mom has gotten especially good at putting you down on your side. When I try, you keep rolling all the way to your tummy and start crying.
Last night (it was Mommies Night) I gave you a bottle and held you for a little while before putting you down. You started to cry as I left, even standing up in your crib, but I just closed the door and went to find the baby monitor. I didn't make it five steps before you stopped crying and settled yourself in for the night. You were still asleep 11 hours and 45 minutes later when I left for work.
Dad
You are never more precious, more beautiful, than when you're fed, bathed, pj'd and falling asleep in someone's arms.
Over the last several weeks you've solidified your preference for rolling onto your left side to sleep after we put you in your crib at night. Mom has gotten especially good at putting you down on your side. When I try, you keep rolling all the way to your tummy and start crying.
Last night (it was Mommies Night) I gave you a bottle and held you for a little while before putting you down. You started to cry as I left, even standing up in your crib, but I just closed the door and went to find the baby monitor. I didn't make it five steps before you stopped crying and settled yourself in for the night. You were still asleep 11 hours and 45 minutes later when I left for work.
Dad
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
comings and goings
Dylan,
I love dropping you off at school, and picking you up too!
You're excited to get there in the mornings. Today you let out a squeal and a wiggle when the front door beeeeeeeped in affirmation of the security code I entered. You knew that was the signal and just couldn't wait to go inside.
You're excited to go home in the evenings, too. Eager to be picked up, you're always enthralled with the sounds of rush hour traffic from the parking lot.
Dad
I love dropping you off at school, and picking you up too!
You're excited to get there in the mornings. Today you let out a squeal and a wiggle when the front door beeeeeeeped in affirmation of the security code I entered. You knew that was the signal and just couldn't wait to go inside.
You're excited to go home in the evenings, too. Eager to be picked up, you're always enthralled with the sounds of rush hour traffic from the parking lot.
Dad
Monday, October 16, 2006
likes and dislikes
Big D,
It's becoming clearer which things you feel are worth your time.
Changing diapers is no longer one of them.
But you'll usually sit patiently and listen to a good storybook.
Dad
It's becoming clearer which things you feel are worth your time.
Changing diapers is no longer one of them.
But you'll usually sit patiently and listen to a good storybook.
Dad
Sunday, October 15, 2006
pointing at reptiles
Dylan,
Mommy recently decorated your room with these fantastic things called "wallies", which are essentially wallpaper decals that can be applied and removed with a wet sponge. You now have three giant colorful tree frogs, a smattering of green leafy accents, and a custom-made dragonfly with purple pipe-cleaner wings mounting your bedroom walls under the ceiling of blue sky and puffy white clouds.
Every time you're in your bedroom -- including every nap or diaper change -- you extend an arm and an index finger insistently toward the frogs. In fact, this morning at 7 o'clock I heard you yammering in your crib and went to get you started on your day. The *instant* you saw me enter the room you jumped up, pointing ardently over the crib rail and across the room, eyes wide, focused and unmoving.
Ordinarily I like to change you first, but Mom had just jumped in the shower so it made a perfect diversion before the normal routine of substituting a fresh diaper and handing you off to The Boob. You stood on the spare bed, dancing across small piles of your own clean laundry, and reached up to touch the frog most accessible, the low one with wide red and blue lateral stripes and a keen eye for the dragonfly.
You love your froggies, and it's wonderful.
Dad
Mommy recently decorated your room with these fantastic things called "wallies", which are essentially wallpaper decals that can be applied and removed with a wet sponge. You now have three giant colorful tree frogs, a smattering of green leafy accents, and a custom-made dragonfly with purple pipe-cleaner wings mounting your bedroom walls under the ceiling of blue sky and puffy white clouds.
Every time you're in your bedroom -- including every nap or diaper change -- you extend an arm and an index finger insistently toward the frogs. In fact, this morning at 7 o'clock I heard you yammering in your crib and went to get you started on your day. The *instant* you saw me enter the room you jumped up, pointing ardently over the crib rail and across the room, eyes wide, focused and unmoving.
Ordinarily I like to change you first, but Mom had just jumped in the shower so it made a perfect diversion before the normal routine of substituting a fresh diaper and handing you off to The Boob. You stood on the spare bed, dancing across small piles of your own clean laundry, and reached up to touch the frog most accessible, the low one with wide red and blue lateral stripes and a keen eye for the dragonfly.
You love your froggies, and it's wonderful.
Dad
pocket comb
Dylan,
I combed your hair while you were in the tub the other day. I used a simple little black comb that came with a beard-trimming kit. It's just like the comb my dad carried around when I was young, with wide-spaced teeth on one half and narrower spaces on the other.
You were captivated by the experience, desperately wanting to see what was going on. When I showed it to you, you grabbed the comb and immediately pressed it to your forehead, holding it there as if waiting for it to do it's thing. At first I thought I might be reading too much into this, but you put it to your forehead two more times before settling for sticking it in your mouth.
I've combed your hair a couple times now and each time you take the comb, press it to your forehead, pause, then go ahead and stick it in your mouth.
I'm impressed by how quickly you made the connection (very generally) for how this "tool" is meant to be used.
Dad
I combed your hair while you were in the tub the other day. I used a simple little black comb that came with a beard-trimming kit. It's just like the comb my dad carried around when I was young, with wide-spaced teeth on one half and narrower spaces on the other.
You were captivated by the experience, desperately wanting to see what was going on. When I showed it to you, you grabbed the comb and immediately pressed it to your forehead, holding it there as if waiting for it to do it's thing. At first I thought I might be reading too much into this, but you put it to your forehead two more times before settling for sticking it in your mouth.
I've combed your hair a couple times now and each time you take the comb, press it to your forehead, pause, then go ahead and stick it in your mouth.
I'm impressed by how quickly you made the connection (very generally) for how this "tool" is meant to be used.
Dad
Sunday, October 08, 2006
rough reminder
Dylan,
You (We) had a rough night last night. It took some extra effort to calm you down and put you to sleep at bedtime, but nothing special. Listening on the baby monitor we could hear that you weren't settled in. It sounded more like you were turning over and over again. Then you began to cry. After 20+ minutes I went in to check on you.
You were clearly uncomfortable. I picked you up, but there was no position that suited you. Mom nursed you some more and you went back to bed, but it was only a little while before you were crying again, louder and more forcefully now.
We tried everything we could think of. It was heartbreaking to hold you while you fought to get out of every new position. If we set you down you wanted to be held, but you just kept writhing and crying, so tired and suffering so much.
I offered you a bottle. Twice you pushed it away but on my third attempt you grabbed it with both hands and drained it without pause. And then you went to sleep. It didn't make sense that you would behave like that just because you were hungry, but you were "down for the count" I assured Mom when I crawled into bed, hoping for a good night's sleep before Mom's half-marathon in the morning.
I think I slept almost half an hour before I heard you, again with the sounds of suffering. It gets fuzzy from here. I think I may have gotten another 20-minute nap in my bed at some point but I'm not sure. For a long while we suffered together, searching fruitlessly for any position, action or motion that offered comfort.
I worried we might need to take you to the Emergency Room. It had been hours by now.
I determined/decided that it was a really bad case of gas. I patted your bottom a lot, but if anything that made the screaming and the writhing worse. I held you every which way but upside down by the ankles. I laid you on the spare bed and bicycled your legs which seemed to help --or at least quieted you down several times. I also tried rubbing your tummy and especially your lower back, the latter helping a little sometimes.
On the occasions that you stopped crying and settled in (usually with deep knee bends and big up and down arm swings) you demanded that I remain standing. Over and over I'd sit carefully down in the rocking chair and you would let loose with the howling and the twisting, especially when I'd try to rest my tired arms (still holding you) on a pillow in my lap.
Eventually I managed to sit down. The trick was keeping you tight against my body, which kept steady pressure against your tummy. Along with, of course, all the right jiggles and swings. I fell asleep with you in my arms and slept for almost half an hour, then slowly, groggily, and wearily I put you into your crib for what must have been the fifteenth time that night and you let me go to bed. This was 3:30am.
You woke up at 6:30 as if it were an ordinary day. I was up about fifteen minutes later so Mom could make it to her race. She was "this close" to skipping the event to give me a chance to rest. I'm glad she raced 'cause she blew away her goal of "sub-9 minute miles" to average 7:49 per mile (an hour fourty-two and change) on a beautiful sunny October day.
The night reminded me what rough nights with a baby can be like, and how glad I am that you've been such a successful night sleeper.
Dad
You (We) had a rough night last night. It took some extra effort to calm you down and put you to sleep at bedtime, but nothing special. Listening on the baby monitor we could hear that you weren't settled in. It sounded more like you were turning over and over again. Then you began to cry. After 20+ minutes I went in to check on you.
You were clearly uncomfortable. I picked you up, but there was no position that suited you. Mom nursed you some more and you went back to bed, but it was only a little while before you were crying again, louder and more forcefully now.
We tried everything we could think of. It was heartbreaking to hold you while you fought to get out of every new position. If we set you down you wanted to be held, but you just kept writhing and crying, so tired and suffering so much.
I offered you a bottle. Twice you pushed it away but on my third attempt you grabbed it with both hands and drained it without pause. And then you went to sleep. It didn't make sense that you would behave like that just because you were hungry, but you were "down for the count" I assured Mom when I crawled into bed, hoping for a good night's sleep before Mom's half-marathon in the morning.
I think I slept almost half an hour before I heard you, again with the sounds of suffering. It gets fuzzy from here. I think I may have gotten another 20-minute nap in my bed at some point but I'm not sure. For a long while we suffered together, searching fruitlessly for any position, action or motion that offered comfort.
I worried we might need to take you to the Emergency Room. It had been hours by now.
I determined/decided that it was a really bad case of gas. I patted your bottom a lot, but if anything that made the screaming and the writhing worse. I held you every which way but upside down by the ankles. I laid you on the spare bed and bicycled your legs which seemed to help --or at least quieted you down several times. I also tried rubbing your tummy and especially your lower back, the latter helping a little sometimes.
On the occasions that you stopped crying and settled in (usually with deep knee bends and big up and down arm swings) you demanded that I remain standing. Over and over I'd sit carefully down in the rocking chair and you would let loose with the howling and the twisting, especially when I'd try to rest my tired arms (still holding you) on a pillow in my lap.
Eventually I managed to sit down. The trick was keeping you tight against my body, which kept steady pressure against your tummy. Along with, of course, all the right jiggles and swings. I fell asleep with you in my arms and slept for almost half an hour, then slowly, groggily, and wearily I put you into your crib for what must have been the fifteenth time that night and you let me go to bed. This was 3:30am.
You woke up at 6:30 as if it were an ordinary day. I was up about fifteen minutes later so Mom could make it to her race. She was "this close" to skipping the event to give me a chance to rest. I'm glad she raced 'cause she blew away her goal of "sub-9 minute miles" to average 7:49 per mile (an hour fourty-two and change) on a beautiful sunny October day.
The night reminded me what rough nights with a baby can be like, and how glad I am that you've been such a successful night sleeper.
Dad
Saturday, October 07, 2006
eleven
Dylan is eleven months old today.
We celebrated by buying some size 4 diapers. The size 3's just aren't up to the job on the night shift anymore.
He's getting better at standing. He was so engrossed in the stuffed Western Meadowlark from Uncle Joe the other day that he let go of the footstool and stood playing with the bird for a full 20 seconds. As soon as he realized what he was doing he reached for support.
Dad
We celebrated by buying some size 4 diapers. The size 3's just aren't up to the job on the night shift anymore.
He's getting better at standing. He was so engrossed in the stuffed Western Meadowlark from Uncle Joe the other day that he let go of the footstool and stood playing with the bird for a full 20 seconds. As soon as he realized what he was doing he reached for support.
Dad
Power Poles
Dylan,
Today for the first time we took the steep route to the top of the PG&E trail. 52 minutes up, 31 minutes down the other side.
That hill climb was a spiritual experience. I was glad having you with me.
There is something about the labor of running (and pushing a stroller) up a long steep hill that focuses and quiets the mind like few things can, drawing all attention to the rythmic details of the requirements: breathing, striding, persevering, while freeing it of the usual random, transient brickabrack.
The quiet, focused mind gives rise to the soul.
Stripping away the plaque, blowing out the sludge, and burning the grimey build-up off my immaterial faculties, it reminds me in the starkest and surest terms of who I am.
Dad
Today for the first time we took the steep route to the top of the PG&E trail. 52 minutes up, 31 minutes down the other side.
That hill climb was a spiritual experience. I was glad having you with me.
There is something about the labor of running (and pushing a stroller) up a long steep hill that focuses and quiets the mind like few things can, drawing all attention to the rythmic details of the requirements: breathing, striding, persevering, while freeing it of the usual random, transient brickabrack.
The quiet, focused mind gives rise to the soul.
Stripping away the plaque, blowing out the sludge, and burning the grimey build-up off my immaterial faculties, it reminds me in the starkest and surest terms of who I am.
Dad
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
camelbak
apple
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