Full On Crawling

Well, it didn't take very long for Grace to go from crawlingish to crawling.  She's on the move now, and can really, really motor.

"Target identified.  Pursue and eat XBOX"

I love her crawling determination and form.  Grace only crawls when she sees something she wants, which is exclusively something she's not allowed to have like a shoe, a glass or Carrie's graded essays.  Plus, her single-minded drive and that one armed, dragging the body move she uses reminds me of the T-100 from the end of The Terminator, after it's been crushed in the factory but keeps relentlessly chasing after Sarah Connor.  She can't be bargained with. She can't be reasoned with. She doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And she absolutely will not stop, ever, until she tries to eat something fragile, important and/or dangerous.

More Like Crawlingish

I'm pretty sure that every parent thinks their baby is exceptional.  It's human nature to look at your kid and see someone that's smarter or stronger, prettier or more developed than all the other babies in the world.  I'm certainly no different.  Every time Grace learns anything new, I see it as evidence that she's not just an ordinary baby picking up new skills on a normal schedule but instead some kind of superbaby, the next step in human evolution.  This tendency also makes me see things that aren't quite there.

For example, I've been absolutely convinced that Grace has been on the verge of crawling since she was two months old.  With any sort of progress, whether it was reaching out with her arms, kicking her feet, rolling over or just having a particularly determined look in her eye, I was running to set the baby gates up.  However, after months of false starts and unrealistic expectations, it looks like Grace has turned a corner and really is on the verge of crawling.

It's taken a lot of time and effort, a perfectly normal amount of time and effort of course, but Grace has figured out how to get herself up onto her hands and knees in a sort of crawling start position.  The only thing is, she hasn't figured out what to do next.  She wants to move forward but doesn't know which arm or leg to move first so she just sort of rocks until she tips over, hilariously, heartbreakingly close to crawling.  But not quite there yet.  I'd call it crawlingish.

A few of last thoughts on the video.  First, I don't have any idea what we were watching on TV, but the countryfied soundtrack isn't working for me.  I feel like Grace's determined effort should be set to a more epic soundtrack, maybe some Ennio Morricone or something.  Second, do I always sound like Kermit the Frog when I speak?  If so, why hasn't anybody told me?  Last, that's Grace's party outfit, which needs to be noted because it's incredibly adorable.

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She Writes the Songs That Make Her Whole Foot Sing

One of the unbelievable joys of being a parent is coming up with novel ways to entertain your kid.  Carrie and I both revel in the challenge, but have drastically different styles.  I tend to be more physical, playing games that get Grace moving around.  Contrastingly, as befitting an English teacher my wife tries to engage our daughter's mind with stories and songs.  Her latest single is one of Grace's favorites, and definitely the one I like the most.  So, without further ado, I give you the world premiere of the sure to be smash hit "Singin' Toes".  Enjoy!

I think we can get this played in regular rotation on Sesame Street, give that the corresponding puppet show is already worked out.

She Got Game

Despite being three years older than my sister Amy, she's been taller than me for as long as I can remember.  She sprouted past me sometime around kindergarten and never looked back.  At 6'1", she's got an inch that she'll lord over me at least until we get old and start shrinking.

Amy was always the tallest girl in her class, so naturally she found basketball - or basketball found her - at a really young age.  Now that she has a niece, and a tall one at that, basketball is one of the first things Aunt Amy has tried to pass on.  Amy gave Grace her first basketball and a hoop as a gift, which Grace absolutely adores.

I'm Sure Beetles are a Delicacy Somewhere

We've done our best to make sure Grace is eating right, following our doctor's every guideline and varying her foods to give her the things she likes most often.  Turns out though, our menu was a bit more diverse than we thought.  Yep, the thing Grace eats most often and likes the best is bug milk.

Similac Advance in delicious beetle flavor.

Since we're first time parents, you may expect Carrie and I to be in a panic about feeding Grace recalled formula, but that's not the case.  Even though she's eaten the bug infested gruel every day for the last few months, she's shown no ill effects and it doesn't lead to any serious health risks. So honestly the Similac recall gets a great big "whatever" from us.  If the urban legend is to be believed, we've all eaten a few whole spiders in our sleep, so what's the big deal about a little bit of ground bug powder?

Meeting the Mouse

My mother is a pretty big fan of all things Disney.  More than pretty big, actually.  Obsessive.  Well, maybe a step down from obsessive.  Lets go with dedicated lifelong fanatic.  Anyway, I bring this up because I was going through Grace's closet the other day and came across a Mickey Mouse doll that was buried under an avalanche of clothes and toys.  Given my mom's appreciation for the Mouse, I thought it'd be nice to record Grace and Mickey's first meeting for posterity.  Of course, I thought this after their first meeting had already occurred, so this is their second encounter.  It went pretty much the same as the first though.

Mickey was of course enamored by Grace, while, as she does most things, my daughter found Mickey to be delicious.  Grace didn't really notice my spot on Mickey Mouse voice over, but who can blame her, she had feet to eat.

Things They Don't Tell New Parents #164

Every once in a while, a baby will throw up directly on your face when you're burping her. 

I need a shower and something to wipe this experience from my mind.

Guess We Have to Stock Up on Baby Toothpaste

For the past three months, Carrie and I attributed all of Grace's otherwise unexplained bad moods and sleepless nights to the start of teething.  And, for three months we've been wrong.  That all changed about a week ago, when not one but two teeth cut their way through her bottom gums.

Yeah it's blurry.  You try taking a picture of a wiggling baby.

I'll Teach You to Leave Without Me

Grace's grandparents all love hosting sleepovers for the baby, and once every month or so Carrie and I are more than happy to oblige.  As parents, it's good to get away for a bit to blow off some steam and not be on infant alert at every moment, so it's an incredible blessing that our parents live so close and are so excited to spend time with Grace.

Last weekend was such an opportunity, as we dropped off Grace with my in-laws and headed upstate for a night with some friends.  The Saturday night party was a lot of fun and everything seemed to go off without a hitch, at least until went to pick up our daughter Sunday afternoon.  Grace was furious at us for leaving her behind and spent the rest of the day letting us know all about it.

PPPLLLLLFFFFFFFPPPPTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!

Grace, Carrie and I are all huge fans of funny noises and funny faces.  Mommy and daddy will do just about anything to for a laugh, and baby is always more than happy to oblige

As Grace gets older though, our comic mannerisms are starting to have a side effect.  Namely, mimicry, which our little lady is quickly mastering.  If we stick our tongues out, she sticks her tongue out.  If we make a silly noise, she parrots it back as best she can.  The pinnacle of Grace's pantomiming happened today, right while I was trying to feed her lunch.

Ten minutes of Grace teaching herself how to spit just like mom and pop brought a sudden end to mealtime, leaving daddy covered in peaches and baby thoroughly amused.  It was as scary as it was funny however, as Grace was turning purple from the effort.  No worries though, we're going to spend the rest of the day teaching her how to stop and take a breath.

Next Stop Sea World

Carrie and I taught Grace how to play catch today.  We were at grandma and grandpa's house where there was a beachball lying around.  Since it's colorful and a thing, Grace was immediately fascinated by it, so we let her handle it for a bit.  After a minute or so, she dropped it and we handed it back.  Another minute, another drop and so on for a while.

Eventually Carrie decided to try tossing the ball to Grace instead of handing it to her, and she snatched out of the air on her first try, a pure natural.  Amazed and excited, we kept playing for an hour, taking the ball directly from Grace's hands instead of waiting for her to drop it most of the time.

Toward the end of our catch session, Grace decided to unveil a second skill, not satisfied by just learning how to catch.  We tossed her the ball, which she trapped against the side of her body.  Then, she pushed the ball up over her shoulders and balanced perfectly on the top of her head.  Just like a trained seal.

She stalled it long enough for me to take
out my cell phone and take this picture

Jiu Jitsu? I'm Going to Learn Jiu Jitsu?

For the most part, babies learn incrementally, picking up new skills bit by bit through trial and error.  For example, Grace has seemed to be on the verge of crawling for months, and is now at the point where she's got everything down except for actually moving forward.

Once in a while though, Grace seems to learn new things in giant leaps, as if they were downloaded directly into her brain like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix but if Keanu was a better actor.  Last Monday was one of those days.  From the moment Grace woke up, it was like she was a totally different person.

Our Little Author

My wife is an English teacher, a profession chosen because of a lifelong love for the written word.  So it should come as no surprise that telling Grace stories and teaching her how to read and write were among the thing's Carrie was most looking forward to upon becoming a parent.

It turns out, Grace is a very quick study.  This morning, mom sat baby in front of the computer to teach her a little about letters, numbers, cause and effect.  Enthralled by the keyboard and blank word document, Grace was filled with inspiration.  Within moments, she began putting word to digital page and authored her first story, which is hanging on our refrigerator at home and reproduced after the break for your enjoyment.

She's Hiding a Tunnel Behind a Justin Bieber Poster

Baby Grace got sent to the clink this morning.  Her crime, waking up too early for mom and dad.  Her punishment, 45 minutes of hard time.  She did get a single cell and a bunch of her toys since, like Andy Dufresne, she's helping the wardens take money from the government.  Here's a clip from her first day in juvi (or Joovy).

The Poop Rating Scale

No one tells you this before you become a parent, but as it turns out, one of your most important jobs as a caregiver is to monitor your baby's bowel movements.  How much?  How often?  What color and consistency?  Knowing the answers to these questions and recognizing when the answers change is of the utmost importance in monitoring a newborn's health.  The 1st signs of sickness can often be seen in an unusual number 2.

Now, I'm a mature, responsible man.  A husband and father, a homeowner, college educated with an accomplished professional resume.  I'm more than able to get past the grossness and take a clinical approach to doody duty.  Still, like every other man in the world, there's a part of me that still thinks and acts like a 13-year old, and having the daily opportunity to describe poops has been a delight to my less sophisticated sensibilities.  This combination of the need and want to talk openly, accurately and ridiculously about each and every excrement led to the creation of the Poop Rating Scale.

Fine Dining

I'm no foodie, as anyone who knows me will certainly attest.  Well into my late 20's, my idea of three square meals consisted of cookies for breakfast, a condiment-free, topping-free salami sandwich for lunch and fast food or a microwave meal for dinner.  To be honest, not a whole lot has changed now that I'm domesticated.  My wife has helped me turn the tide against McDinners and I'm good for a veggie every other day or so, but beyond that I'm still a nutritional lost cause.  I bring this up because Gracie already has a more adventurous palate and well-rounded diet than I do despite being less than five months old.

The Last Month or So - A Retrospective

Since I took a little blogging vacation, I had a bunch of pictures stored up that didn't make their way into individual posts, so I figured I'd put them all up together since Grace's cuteness needs to be shared with the world.  Enjoy!

The best pic of Grace so far.

Gracie the Giant, The Eighth Wonder of the World

Well, maybe mostly head.

Height runs in my family.  I'm 6'0", my sister is 6'1", my dad is 6'3" and I've got uncles as tall as 6'5".  Not to mention Carrie, who checks in at an above average 5'7".  So we expected to have a tall baby, which was confirmed from her first sonogram pictures showing a baby that was all arms and legs.

That said, we were in a surprise when we took Grace to the pediatrician for her 4-month checkup.  We could tell visually that Gracie got taller since her 3-month visit, but when the nurse put her on the table she measured 26 inches, a shocking 2 1/2" inches longer than the last month.  So shocking in fact that the nurse was compelled to measure her a second time and then the doctor a third time, the both of them believing that such a spurt had to be a mistake.

Down for the Count

It's been a constant amazement to me just how quickly Gracie has learned new abilities.  New skills have debuted at a furious pace of late, all appearing out of the blue.  When I hold her, she can smoothly and rapidly turn her head all the way to the right, then to the left and back again.  At the doctor's last week, she was on the table and rolled over for the first time.  Just the other day, I was holding her binky until she pushed my hand away, grabbed it, spit it out and put it back in her mouth on her own.  And last night, she showed off her most impressive talent to date.

Feel the Burn

If you want to get in shape, skip the gym and just have yourself a kid.  I've only been a dad for 3 months but I'm already in the best shape of my life.  Granted, that's not saying much.  I've never been much of an athlete (unless you count playing Madden, which I do), and have had the build of a high school freshman through my twenties and beyond.  However, the steady baby lifting program that Grace has put me on is having major results.  Now I'm built like a high school sophomore after a growth spurt, albeit one with significantly less hair.

Grace is an awesome personal trainer, determined to push me to my physical limits every single day.  It's a severe approach but it certainly works.  To show you what I mean, here's a typical workout routine.

Demure No More

I've got a confession to make.  I don't know how to make myself burp.  Whether it's because of some odd reflex or an absurd mental block, I've never been able to figure out how to belch on purpose, which has been an endless source of shame for me as a fully-grown man.

One of my less rational fears upon becoming a parent was that Grace was going to inherit this flaw from me.  My fear only grew when she was first born and was struggling to get her gas up, in no small part because I hadn't yet figured out how to burp her either.  She'd wriggle in discomfort.  I'd furiously search for the magic spot to pat on her back.  Eventually, she'd let out a tiny, halfhearted noise and we'd both be eager to just move on.

Fascination

No commentary, just thought it was cool to show how totally enraptured Grace is with the world around her.  This went on for 20 solid minutes.

Wooby Versus Wooby

We've got a ton of toys in the house, but up until the last week or so, Grace hasn't had much interest in playing with any of them.  That's perfectly normal of course.  Like most babies, Grace has spent her first three months discovering herself and the world around her while receiving plenty of entertainment from her goofy parents.  I guess that Carrie, me and the house are getting to be old hat for our little girl though, because lately she's started interacting with her woobys.

Like a Record Baby Right Round Round Round

Grace isn't traditionally mobile yet.  She's still a bit too small to crawl, let alone walk, but that doesn't keep her from moving around.  I've already covered how she likes to wiggle around when she's being held, and as cool as her trust falls are, they're not her only peculiar ability.

My little girl is a habitual spinner.  Whenever she lies down, whether awake or asleep, she shifts and shimmys around, which isn't all that strange on its own.  What's bizzare is her spin pattern.

The Perils of Pure White Noise

I've battled insomnia issues on and off for most of my adult life.  It took becoming a parent to finally discover a cure.  The white noise machine.  It's an unbelievably effective tool for helping me get to sleep.  The constant, soothing sounds of soft rain and babbling brooks put me at ease and shuts my brain down in mere moments.  I relax, my eyes get heavy and before I know it I'm going out.

There's one fairly significant problem with this.  The only time I ever hear the white noise machine is when I'm in Grace's room tending to her when she wakes up in the middle of the night.

Grace the Fashionista

As a welcome to the world, my friend Meaghan gave Grace a great gift, a set of adorable homemade hats and bows from her personal fashion label Abby Girl Accessories. Thank you so much for the gift, Grace loves them! And readers, if you like what you see and have a little one of your own or are looking for a great baby gift, check out Meaghan's online store at http://abbygirlaccessories.yolasite.com/online-store.php.

Nom Nom Nom

Over the last week or so, Grace has been cranky more often than usual.  The usual fixes weren't working, and the only comfort she was finding came by trying to chew on her hands.  This led to some inevitable parent panic and the worst-case scenario, WebMD-quality amateur diagnosis that Grace was starting to teethe.  We tried a few remedies, teething toys, OralGel and a frozen waffle (which she loved), with limited success, so after a few days we thought it best to take our little girl to the doctor.

Empty Nest Syndrome

I know it's been a while since I've posted, but it's been a crazy couple of weeks, and Carrie and I have been busy readjusting to big changes at home.  Baby Grace is growing up quick and took a huge step, moving out of the bassinet and into her own place.  Of course, her own place is her own room just across the hall, but still, I'm already dreading the day I help her move into a dorm.

Grace's Thoughts on Lost

Almost everybody I know is a loyal viewer of Lost, Grace included.  Since it's the topic of the day, she wanted to throw her two cents in.  I'll transcribe, as her typing skills are still a bit rudimentary.

"What in the hell was that?  I dedicated 10 weeks of my life to this show - which is all of the weeks of my life by the way - and you give me an ending that I have to interpret?  How about after 120 hours of mystery you give us 1 hour of unambiguous, concrete answers.  To get closure, I shouldn't have to work my way through obscure references and subtext.  I don't even know what subtext is, I'm a friggin' baby! 

I appreciated the ride, the depth of the characters and the beauty of the story, ending included, but please just come out and tell me exactly what the smoke monster was. Tell me for sure whether or not everything that happened on the island was really real life or purgatory (which I predicted five years ago back when I was just an egg), and please tell me that the whole entire thing wasn't just Jack's St. Elsewhere style dying daydream.

That said, it was still way better than the ending to The Sopranos, whatever that was."

Anything for a Laugh

Before I became a parent, I thought it was important for parents to speak normally to their children rather than resorting to babytalk.  Even though babies can't understand what you're saying, their neurons are building connections and they're always picking up something about language, facial expressions, emotions and more.  While I still believe that, and talk to my daughter as normally as I can as often as I can, I've had a change of heart since becoming a father.  Mainly because Grace doesn't get my jokes.

So, in the spirit of tailoring my comedy to my audience...

What Baby Knows, What Baby Doesn't Know - Part 2

Grace is nine weeks old now and grows more sophisticated by the day.  I couldn't be prouder watching her discover each new small piece of the world, even if she doesn't get her head around all the details right away.

What Grace Knows - How to Take the Binky Out of Her Mouth

In its most basic form (spitting it out), Grace has known how to expel her binky since the first day we gave it to her.  And while that's still her favorite method of de-binkying, she's added a new wrinkle to her game.  Over the last week she's learned how to grab the edges and handle of the binky with her right thumb and forefinger, hold onto it and take it out of her mouth.

Baby Yoga

Wiener dog pose, first position.

Our Little Zoolander

Even though she's only 2 months old, Grace is starting to master certain skills.  For example, her ability to move from burp position to feeding position has gone from a tentative roll to a full-on daredevil trust fall.

There's only one problem with her technique.  Like Derek Zoolander, she can't turn to the left.

Poop Watch 2010

Epic baby poops are a recurring theme in this blog, described regularly in their amazing, disgusting detail.  I'd imagine that from reading those stories, you'd think that the messes are the worst part of dealing with my daughter's digestion issues.  You'd be wrong.

Grace went from Sunday afternoon to late Monday night without pooping, and let me tell you, a backed up baby is a very unhappy baby.   I'm talking Birthers on Obama's inauguration day unhappy.  Every Mets fan over the past four years unhappy.  SEVERELY unhappy.

Sleepytime: A Retrospective

First nap, first smile

Mommy bed

On the couch after a tough day

Lounging on the Boppy

Baby burrito

Daddy's little doppelganger

Up close and personal

How sweet is life?!

Lights out

Superbaby!

Grace's Favorites Power Rankings - Week 7

A quick rundown of Grace's 10 favorite things.  Individual people are excluded, though that would make for a fun and deeply contentious post.

1. Feedings - Bottles are king in Gracie's universe, holding down the top spot in undisputed fashion.
2. Ceiling Fans - As her vision improves, Grace is learning to focus on shapes and colors.  So far, her favorite visual discovery are the fans, since she's looking up when she's being held and they make for a sharp contrast against the ceiling.  I'm afraid that when we finally turn one on, we're going to break her brain.
3. Kitchen Faucet - Even though she can't figure out what it is or where it's coming from, the sound of running water hitting the sink is the best way to soothe an apoplectic Gracie.  Combined with the kitchen ceiling fan, it's a killer calming combination.

Sleeping in her mommy bed.

4. Sleeping on People - People beds good, real beds bad. 
5. Baths - The fastest riser in the Power Rankings, Grace has enjoyed her spa days in the baby tub much more than the horrors of sponge baths on the changing mat.
6. Binky - She'd rather be sucking her thumb, but since she usually keeps her hands balled into fists Grace settles happily enough for the binky, especially if it means Carrie and I need to stay close by to keep giving it back to her whenever she spits it out.
7. Bugs - Not real bugs thankfully, but the cartoon bugs in her playset and her musical bumblebee.  And who could blame her, the bee is definitely makes better music than bands like Nickelback.

8. Silly Voices - A red hot up-and-comer, silly voices have scored big over the past few days, getting big smiles and a laugh or two out of Gracie.  On the downside, mommy and daddy's embrace of baby talk likely marks the end of our time as people that can function in an adult conversation.  Oh well, we had a good run.
9. Getting Burped - Getting burped is still getting held, so Grace is down with it, but it's not getting fed or getting to sleep, so she's increasingly quick and skilled at wiggling her way into a more desirable position.
10. Baby Swing - How the mighty have fallen.  After two weeks, the baby swing looked like a long-term panacea, often putting Grace to sleep in less than a minute.  Now though, four times out of five she begs out immediately after getting strapped in.  Baby swing is going to have a tough time staying in the rankings by the next update.

Maiming Gracie

We've already covered how I've managed to scar Grace emotionally.  Last week, for the first time, I scarred Grace physically.

Like most daddy screw ups, it started off with me trying to do something good for my daughter, cutting her nails.  In typical baby fashion, Grace constantly grabs at her face, and since baby nails grow like weeds she ends up scratching herself.  Because of this, nail clipping has to happen every two or three days, or else it'll look like we put Grace to bed with a feral cat in her bassinet.

Carrie and I approached nail clipping with extreme trepidation.  Baby nails are adorably, terrifyingly small and Grace is very wiggly, so this endeavor was obviously fraught with danger.  Since I have the steadier hands in the family, I got first crack with the clippers.

The first time I cut Grace's nails was a nerve wracking success.  It took the better part of 20 minutes, but with determined patience and extreme delicacy, my daughter made it through the ordeal unscathed.  And thus, I got to add another permanently ongoing responsibility to my daddy resume.

The weeks went on and I got the hang of things.  20 minutes became 15, then, well, stayed around 15.  Cutting nails is hard.  Nonetheless, I got better at it.  Then I made a fateful mistake.  I got cocky.

Outwardly, I seem like a pretty easygoing, humble guy.  But as anyone that really knows me (or at least played poker with me) will attest, I've got a pretty deep arrogant streak running through me.  It only takes the slightest bit of knowledge for me to turn into an overconfident know-it-all.

So, with a track record of nail cutting success in the books, I started to drop my guard.  The fear of messing up, which had help keep me cautious and precise, had diminished.  I became too quick to clip.  With my sleeping sweetheart lying in my lap, I nicked her thumb.  Grace woke up with a spine chilling scream, torn away from her rest by a never-before-experienced pain.  A trickle of blood dripped from her finger, and I fell to pieces.

One of the toughest things about being a dad is seeing your child in pain and not being able to help them.  It's absolutely heartbreaking.  For example, in the hospital the morning after Grace was born, she sneezed for the first time and started to cry from the surprise.  I was powerless to help her understand what had happened.  It seemed at the time that no amount of comforting would help her understand that sneezes were normal and nothing to be afraid of.  Things like that happen all the time.

This was different though.  This pain was all my fault.  It may seem like a little thing, there'll be plenty more cuts and bruises in the months and years to come, but knowing that the first one was because of something I did killed me inside for the rest of the day.

Carrie did her best to console me, through compassionate teasing, as is our way.  At least during that first night.  The next day, she dropped the compassionate part and was letting me have it pretty good, leaving me with two burdens to bear.

As a postscript, Grace has fully forgiven me, though she got her revenge that night by peeing on me the next time I changed her diaper.  Meanwhile, Carrie received her comeuppance for her reign of joking terror.  Two days after my mis-clipping, Carrie was playing airplane with Grace and things got a bit too turbulent.  Grace threw up from the bumpy flight, leaving my wife as the quivering, puke covered emotional wreck behind our daughter's momentary misery for the rest of the night.

One Poop to Rule Them All

Even though she's only 7 weeks old, Grace has already demonstrated a knack for making a grand entrance, dating back to the day she was born.  Carrie was due on April 4th, but three weeks before that her water broke.  During a dinner party we were throwing for her parents.  During a tree-uprooting, hurricane level windstorm.  It was truly an epic introduction to the world.

Over the weekend, Grace had another opportunity to make a memorable first impression.  The three of us went to a party where a bunch of our childless friends were meeting our baby for the first time.  We fed Grace before we left home, then packed in the car and headed off.  Since the trip took about 45 minutes, we knew we'd have to change her diaper as soon as we got there, so after saying hello to everyone, we woke Grace up, took her out of her car seat and got ready to get to work.

Immediately upon lifting her up, we learned that we had a situation on our hands.  Grace had a blowout.  For the uninitiated, that's when a poop manages to escape from the leg holes or the top band of the diaper.  Normally, that sounds worse than it actually is.  It happens once or twice a week and is only a little more messy than a run of the mill changing.  As seasoned parents, Carrie and I were initially unperturbed.  Of course, everyone else was wildly entertained by our apparent misfortune.

We took Grace inside, set up the travel changing pad on the kitchen table and, with our host and hostess looking on, got started.  The four of us opened the diaper to reveal the worst thing I've ever seen, and I've seen I Know Who Killed Me.  Carrie and I were taken aback.  Our host and hostess were outright staggered. 

Every single bit of the diaper was saturated with mustardy poop.  Poor Grace's butt, legs, back and tummy were covered with runoff.  Even worse was the smell.  There were literally visual stinklines rising up from the mess.  To get a sense of the vileness, imagine if a wet dog had a baby with the Staten Island dump, then covered it in poop.

Cleanup was obviously no picnic.  Baby wipes weren't going to be enough to handle this, so we opted for an immediate emergency sink bath.  Fortunately, our friends were still in a state of shock (and I'm sure coming to the conclusion that they're never, ever having children), so I don't think they noticed us wrecking their bathroom.  From there, we dealt with disposal, a double bagger if there ever was one.

In the end, I'm glad it happened.  I was excited to introduce Grace to so many of my friends, and because of her flair for spectacular entrances I'm fairly positive that it'll be a day they'll never forget.  Even with extensive therapy and powerful medication.

Unwakeable

In lieu of representative UFC
violence, here's some puppies.

While Grace often has a tough time falling asleep, once she's out, she is out cold.  I'm talking UFC, Bisping after Dan Henderson's Mortal Kombat Finish Him Punch out cold.  She's been to two parties in her life, and both times slept through the entire thing.

The first time, a couple of weeks ago, Grace continued a longstanding family tradition of passing out at a kegger, dozing through my sister's annual backyard birthday party/salute to binge drinking.  Unimpressed by the yard's Drunk Olympics, Baby Grace barely made it out of the car seat for the three hours we were there, dozing straight through the revelry.

All dressed up for a 4 hour nap.

Last weekend Grace pulled off an even more impressive feat, sleeping through a 100 guest Communion party that included being held by a bunch of newly met aunts, uncles and cousins to the sounds of a blaring DJ.  My daughter's comfortable with people, and likes nothing more than being held, so the former challenge was no threat to her rest.  The latter though, was remarkable.  You try taking a nap to jet engine decibel dance music. 

Most babies wouldn't have stood a chance of sleeping in such an environment, but I have an explanation.  Grace has been trained to handle loud, terrifying noises from the womb, due to my then pregnant wife's high volume completion of Bioshock 2 on the XBOX, not to mention exposure to a steady stream of prenatal Law & Order SVU.  Chalk one up to desensitization!

Dozing with Cousin Scarlett

Grace TV

Carrie and I love watching Gracie sleep, to the point of obsession.  As part of our nightly routine, we hook our video monitor up to the television and watch her doze in serene peace until we pass out ourselves, which we affectionately refer to as turning on Grace TV  [Note to expecting parents, the Mobicam wireless video monitor is all sorts of awesome].  Tonight, our baby watching took a meta turn. 

Grace has been pretty restless the last few evenings, staying up from around 7 pm until nearly midnight.  We've tried the usual feeding, changing, attention, rocking, swaddling and, out of desperation, the pacifier (a post for another time), but none of that has helped to settle her down.  The next step was toys, and there we found a solution.

We put a light-up, fish tank replicating, lullaby playing music box/baby TV (great gift Grandpa Mulligan!) in her bed, which instantly got Grace's complete attention.  Within seconds, she had a beaming smile, which is pretty much the first time she's smiled specifically at something that's making her happy, other than passing gas.

I know this because my wife and I were both standing over our daughter, watching her watch her own version of Grace TV.  Her happiness was mirrored in our faces for the next 10 minutes, as we silently looked on until she, just like us, peacefully fell asleep to her favorite show.

A much better show than NCIS.

Obsessive Compulsive De-Boogering

I'm sure that this is just the first post of many about how I annoy my daughter.

Like many newborns, Grace's nose is stuffy most of the time.  She can't blow her nose and lays on her back almost all day, so snots tend to build up quickly.  Of course, we only discovered this after Grace was home for a week, which led to a panicked night and a first thing in the morning trip to the doctor, who assured us that everything was fine.  Then, she gave me a fateful instruction: regularly treat the baby with saline drops and keep her nose clear with a nasal aspirator.

And thus, an obsession was born.

Torture instruments of The Boogie Inquisition.

It's become my mission in life to combat the boogers that are infiltrating my beautiful girl's poor nose.  I analyze every noise she makes, interrupt feedings for visual inspections and, to Grace's great chagrin, administer the treatments.

First the drops, a messy endeavor which leaves half of her face soaked as she recoils from the dropper.  Then, worse, the aspirator, a medieval device for poking and prodding the deepest recesses of her sinuses.  What should be a minute of discomfort becomes fifteen minutes of maniacal hunting.  Annoyance registers with my baby and stink eyes are doled out with incredible frequency.

Someone call my hair a therapist.

The worst part is, I know firsthand how it feels to be traumatized by parental obsession.  By own father had a deeply unhealthy need to cut my hair evenly.  Some of my first memories are of sitting on a chair in the bathroom and staying still, impossibly still, for what felt like hours as my dad studied one side of my head then the other only to judge his work imperfect and begin cutting again.  The stress of perfectionism and fear of inevitable scissor nicks still haunts me to this very day.  In fact, I think the reason that my hair is falling out is not genetics but a residual effect of my ordeal.  My hair is actually afraid of reliving this experience and think it would be safer in my shower drain than on my head.

Barber issues aside though, my pops did a great job with my sister and me, the type of job I'm trying my best to do.  But, regardless of my effort and intentions, I'm inevitably going to find ways to break Baby Grace.  If I get enough of the big things right though, this will all turn out okay.

A Light Workout

Getting some exercise in with a few moments of belly time.

 

 Now enough of that, get me the hell out of here!

What Baby Knows, What Baby Doesn't Know - Part 1

Most new parents are obsessed with their baby's development, and I'm certainly no exception.  I'm always on the lookout for the first signs of burgeoning skills and am constantly trying to teach Grace, even though I know she's too young to pick up on most things.  When I hold her, I tell her about noses and ears, fingers and toes.  Walking her around the house is time for an introduction to colors and shapes.  It'll be months until those lessons start to sink in, but there are other discoveries she's made about the world that are already easy to see, where she's moved beyond pure instinct to a more developed level of understanding.  Of course, there's plenty more concepts that are still well beyond her grasp.

What Grace Knows - Navigating Daddy

Grace sees me not so much as a person, but as equal parts restaurant, jungle gym and mattress.  Whether hungry, sleepy or looking to play, she knows what she wants when she wants it, and how to move around me in order to get it.

Feeding position
(were you expecting me to
dangle her from her ankles?)

My daughter is mostly pretty quiet, but when she's hungry she lets you know it in the form of unholy, slasher movie level screaming.  The thing that's impressive is that she's learned to stop freaking out when I get her into feeding position, sitting down with her cradled in my left arm, not when she first feels the bottle.  The thing that's scary is that she can put herself into feeding position when I'm not expecting it.  At least once a day I'll be burping Grace over my shoulder and, like something out of Cirque du Soleil, she'll push herself up, toss herself to the right and dive into the crook of my arm, ready for a post-burp snack.

Burping equals boredom for Baby Grace, so when she's not diving for food, she's trying to play, and there's nothing funner than my face.  She lifts her head and climbs, pushing off my arms with her legs and finding handholds in my chest hair (ouch) and mouth (OUCH!) on her way to the summit of Mount Nose.

"You've got a Gracie on you."

After conquering the trip up my face, it's naptime, which means negotiating her way back down to her favorite sleeping spot before I get the chance to put her in the stinky bassinet.  This move is more of a slide rather than a dive, as she purposefully curls into a ball with her ear pressed against my chest, resting up for a few hours before the cycle begins again.

 What Grace Doesn't Know - Eating and Tummy Aches are Related

It's no surprise that cause and effect are lost on a 5 week old baby, not to mention the basics of human physiology.  Since those concepts haven't dawned on her, Grace's first response to clearing gas with a good burp or clearing something worse with a poop is to immediately demand more food, blissfully unaware of the vicious circle she's descending into.  Hopefully, she'll figure this connection out sooner rather than later, but considering the fact that her 32-year old father still eats cookies for breakfast most mornings and then complains about feeling tired and queasy by lunch, there's a good chance that she's genetically predisposed to never putting these pieces together.

Baby Ninjitsu

As any parent would tell you, newborns have a seemingly infinite capacity to amaze you, and Grace is no exception.  Day after day I watch in wonder as she develops new skills like learning to coo and holding her head up.  Just the other day though, she unveiled a brand new trick that you won't find described in any baby book.

Grace was up for hours, clearly overtired and none too happy about it.  About an hour or so into her raging scream-a-thon, my wife Carrie and I had all but exhausted our arsenal of baby-calming tricks (feed her, change her, swaddle her, rock her, beg her).  Afraid the neighbors were going to call child services on us, we decided to turn to our final option, gripe water.

For the uninitiated, gripe water is a liquid colic remedy for infants made with fennel and ginger.  Since hot ginger tea is my preferred hangover remedy, I had high expectations for its soothing powers going into fatherhood, which were only bolstered when it immediately cured Grace's hiccups the first time we used it.

So with an apoplectic Grace cradled in Carrie's arms, I poured a half teaspoon of the miracle drug and slowly approached.  Now, administering liquid via spoon to an upset, uncooperative baby is no easy task.  You have to negotiate flailing arms and a moving mouth, plus get it in there between cries.  After patiently waiting for my opportunity, I saw an opening and pounced.  That's when Grace unveiled her inner ninja.

Adorable baby or silent assassin?

In the blink of an eye, Grace stopped crying, steadied herself, reached out and grabbed the handle of the spoon - WITHOUT SPILLING ANY OF THE GRIPE WATER.  For comparison, I spill milk all over my face each and every time I eat cereal, but my daughter can snatch a spoon out of midair with perfect precision.

Carrie and I stood frozen in awe as Grace's sharp, purposeful glare said what her voice cannot. "Not today old man.  Try that again and I will kung-fu you butt into oblivion."

Of course, as soon as I could free the spoon I gave her the medicine, icy eyes be damned.  After all, ninja skills or no she's still just a baby and I'm a whole lot bigger than her.

I just hope she's not plotting her vengeance.

Nipple Confusion

A River Runs Through It (It Being My Sweatshirt)

As a new father, I knew I'd be peed on.  I just never imagined I'd be peed on with so much vigor.  Not once, not twice, but three times today, my darling 5 week old baby Grace decided to use her daddy as a diaper in spectacular fashion.

I don't know a whole lot about Grace's likes and dislikes just yet, but if there's one thing that I'm certain of it's that she hates - Capital H Hates - being changed.  With her, cold and wet are two painting the black strikes against you, and if she's hungry while you're changing her, that's a screaming, crying 12-to-6 hammer for strike three.

So, armed with that knowledge, I should've known better than to take her from the changing table to her bathtub sans diaper, wrapped only in a blanket and cradled tight in my arms.  "It'd only be 15 seconds," I thought to myself, "before she'd be in the tub.  Surely she wouldn't pick those 15 seconds to pee ."  But, alas, surely she did.

A torrent of tinkle raged from her bottom, soaking her blanket, my sweatshirt, my sock and the floor.  A sly little smile curled up at the corners of Grace's mouth.  A delighted cackle came from my wife, who witnessed the flooding with unrestrained glee.

One bath, one nap and one sock and sweatshirt change later, Baby Grace was up again, ready for lunch.  I fed her and, as is her custom, she pooped mid-bottle.  Putting the trauma of the morning behind me, I steeled my nerves and took her back to the changing table, opening her diaper to what could best be described as a crime scene.  Not 5 seconds into cleaning her up, Old Faithful erupted again, creating something of a *GROSS ALERT* poop mudslide */GROSS ALERT* spilling out of her diaper and funneling down her back.  It was way worse than the first round, but at least I didn't require another costume change this time.  Her outfit, though, needed to be burned and never spoken of again.

That had to be enough pee incidents for one day, right?  Wrong.  The very next diaper change, Grace was at it again, only this time I was ready.  I opened her diaper and waited her out, absolutely positive of what was going to come.  Sure enough, water works, only this time I caught it all in the dirty diaper, successfully saving an outfit and, for the moment, my sanity.

Still though, it's enough to give a guy a complex.