The Great Diaper War of October 2006

So here I am doing the stay-at-home mommy thing while I am on maternity leave and the hubby is at work. I have learned to fall asleep quckly in order to maximize the baby's naptime. I have learned to talk on the phone while holding the baby in one arm and feeding her with the other. I have learned to cook a good dinner in twenty minutes - the exact amount of time that Katie will enjoy the pacifier before realizing that she's not being fed. And, my greatest accomplishment, is that I have learned when it is time to move on to the next size diapers.

I thought it would be as easy as saying, "The diaper no longer fits. Let's move up to the next size." Oh no. Parenting can be a game. A game such as, "These Newborn diapers still mostly fit, so let's just finish out the half-used pack and then we'll move up to size 1". Well, this parent quickly learned that the diaper always wins the game.

It all started Monday night, when Katie was wearing her adorable pumpkin sleeper. I had wanted her to go to sleep in it, as it was warm and cozy, and then be able to take a hundred more pictures of her in it the next morning. That was not to be. The diaper leaked. The outfit was changed. Diaper 1, Mom 0.


Baby's Halloween Photo Shoot


Where's the baby in the Pumpkin Patch?



The next morning, Ed left for work and around 10 a.m. Katie politely requested breakfast. Who am I kidding? There was no polite request, only the loud demand of a child who wanted milk and wanted it NOW. I went to change the baby only to discover the diaper leaked. The outfit was changed. Diaper 2, Mom 0.

I may have lost two battles, but I was not going to lose this Newborn diaper war. My pride was at stake. I was not going to be one of those parents who had either received or bought too many packages of diapers. I had just been given an entire shopping bag of Newborn diapers from another new parent. I was determined to use some of them. At least I was going to use the ones I had bought.

12:30, another feeding, another diaper. Another leak. Off comes one outfit and on goes another. Diaper 3, Mom 0. What the hell am I thinking? I must not be thinking. Your Honor, I plead temporary insanity. How else can I explain my inability to use a size 1 diaper when one is so obviously needed. A nap is in order to clear my head.

3:00 p.m. I wake to Katie's whimpers. Oh . . . my . . . goodness . . . there was a poop-splosion and the baby is NOT happy. Neither is her cute pink outfit. So there I was with a naked baby on the changing table when the phone rang. Normally, I don't answer the phone when I am doing things with the baby, but it was the bakery and I had been waiting for their call for three days. I answer it and I put them on hold while I . . . I . . . I reached for a size 1 diaper and put it on my screaming baby. Diaper 4, Mom 0.

If I had been in a more sentimental mood, I would have shed a tear at the reality that my baby girl was growing up already. But I wasn't, so I didn't.

But that's not all. I pick up my unclothed child, grab a bottle, and the phone and proceed to hold the baby in my left arm, hold the bottle and feed her with my right hand and wedge the phone between my shoulder and ear. The bakery needs a credit card number to hold the order. Sure, fine, hold on. The baby goes into her upstairs bassinet, begins to scream (this is very unusual behavior for her), and I go downstairs for the necessary info.

This, THIS is the moment I discover that the baby and pink outfit were not the only casualties of the poop-splosion. Oh, no. Mommy was hit also. My left hand, arm, and shirt were wounded by poo. Great. Get the bakery off the phone, wash up and check the baby. Clean off the leg that had been hit and put on another cute pink outfit that is one size too big. She couldn't find her fingers and neither could mommy. Who needs fingers anyway?

Kaitlyn then guzzled a 5 ounce bottle in six minutes, let out the loudest belch I have ever heard come from any human being, and then passed out for the next 3 1/2 hours. I was too shaken by the whole 20 minute episode that I sat in stunned silence for a good 10 minutes before coming to my senses.

Wow. What was thinking?

Stone Cold

Oh, and at 1:30am on Friday night I recognized that my hot tub ceased being hot. 8( The temp was barely holding at 90 degrees and I think the heater is kaput.

A call has been made to our hot tub people who should come out and fix things without problem -- we are 2.5 years into a 5 year warranty. Let's keep our fingers crossed!

-Ed

I'm Still Human!

Once a month I host a poker night at my house. Nothing new there... I've been doing it for almost 4 years. Sometimes we have a very small crowd... 3 or 4 people. Sometimes, we wind up having nearly 20 people and, ultimately just wind up having a Friday night party instead of a poker night.

The poker night before Linda gave birth, only two people showed up. Now, it is bound to happen that for any periodic event amongst a set group of people there will be times when most people are all busy at once. The fact that this happened to have happened just as we were on the cusp of parenthood filled me with a few very silly doubts.

I'm pretty social and love to be surrounded by family and friends. All the time. 24/7. There was always a concern that by having a baby Linda and I would be put in New Parent Prison where single friends awkwardly don't know how to be with you, married friends don't want the reminder of when they need to have kids, and parents with kids now feel that you will need time alone. There is nothing intentionally wrong or malicious about New Parent Prison, it's just something that I dread, as I tend to be very social.

So, that poker night (which just wound up being a very enjoyable evening with my godson and his parents), made me a little afraid. This was a fear that, after this Friday's poker night, I no longer have.

We were slammed for poker night. I think I counted 18 heads at our gathering. So many that I know Linda and I did not get a chance to interact with so many people and I think we got in about 4 hands of poker before I had to surrender to just going about being a host.

Some people left early. Some stayed until 3am. Some beer was drunk, pizza was ordered, and I spend 3 hours in the hot tub with some port, some friends, and a very very understanding wife who went to bed early with Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn, who is already an extrovert like her daddy, soaked up all the attention and barely made a peep the entire evening.

So, a few "thank yous" are in order:

1. Thank you for not banning us to New Parent Prison
2. Thank you all for washing your hands, using purell, or, if sick, just not coming over.
3. Thank you for putting up with me not being able to interact or play as much poker.

I've been on a high since Friday evening, having spent several hours with so many friends (and family -- thanks for the chips, Lisa!).

-Ed

Composer

OK, so I have not yet had a chance to re-do the last post. Today was my first "Ed's back for real" day at work, and it turned into a 12 hour day. Ugh.

On the bright side, I added another verse to my "sing Kaitlyn to sleep" song. So, without further ado, here is her latest "sing her to sleep if she is still awake" song:

How are you, please?


Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn,
How are you Kaitlyn?
How are you Ka-ai-aitlyn?
Won't you tell me please?

Do you need to poop or pee?
Or do you just want to feed?
Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn,
Won't you tell me please?

Should I pick you up and sway?
Or calm you down another way?
Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn,
Won't you tell me please?

Do you need a diaper change?
That's something we can arrange.
Kaitlyn, Kaitlyn,
Won't you tell me please?


Can anyone else suggest a lyric? I'm sure we'll need more as she gets older.

8)

-Dad

Reflections

I tell people we have a really good baby. I tell people that every chance I get. I also tell them that I know that this can change at any moment. This broadcast isn't so much about proclaiming our child in contrast to others, or about patting ourselves on the back for some ethereal parenting feat. It's meant to provide some positive reflection on the first month with a newborn.

So many people assume that the first month with a baby is going to be difficult. And, sometimes, it certainly is difficult. But it is not always difficult. If I had a dime for every person: friend, co-worker, or family member who warned me:

- You'll never sleep again!
- Get used to playing second fiddle (I don't play the fiddle)!
- Kiss those hobbies goodbye!
and the infamous....
- Just you wait, mister!

And, yet, this past 3 weekperiod has been one of the best and happiest in my life. We sleep plenty (because we didn't sleep that much before, maybe). As a family, we aren't second fiddle to each other, and my hobbies have gotten more life now then they ever had. Just me wait? Why couldn't this happen to me before?!

But, here is the kicker: when I tell people the specifics of what Kaitlyn does they say that's normal. These same people who proclaim about demon children, these same people who warn the parents-to-be, these same people who gleefully pull out popcorn in anticipation of the trials to come, these people all agree that our baby is mostly like they remember babies.

Kaitlyn cries to eat. She cries when she wants a diaper changed. Most of the rest of the time she sleeps, coos, or just looks around. She'll eat every few hours, and is learning to do some longer stretches at night. No biggie.

So... why are Linda and I happy as clams? (how happy is a clam?) Yeah, Kaitlyn is a little less fussy than the average bear but I don't buy that as the sole reason. I think it has to do with attitude.

I don't have to change a diaper, I get to change a diaper.
I don't have to feed the baby, I get to feed the baby.
I don't have to play with the baby, I get to play with the baby.

See a theme? There is fun in everything that we do, if we only had the insight, creativity, and mindset to seek it out. How is sitting in front of a television more stimulating than watching a human being grow in front of you? How is playing a video game more valuable than providing care to another human being?

When faced with any responsibility we tend to see "fun" in those things that match our routines and see "work" in those things that do not. And, thus, there are those who suffer through and those who celebrate the very same things. Which is just a long-winded way of saying: it's all about attitude! After doing something I enjoy, I feel refreshed. After doing something that I just couldn't make myself enjoy, I feel exhausted, as if I have been swimming against a rip tide. So, I've found I get more done by doing things I enjoy.

I've learned to find stimulation in several otherwise mundane tasks. Far from being simple for it, I've found it takes a great deal of imagination, creativity, and energy. I've also found that thinking this way has made me often scratch my head when people warn me of the trials of most things in life.

So, please, let me adjust the Nike slogan of "Just Do It" and replace it with "Just Enjoy It".

Oops.. this is a rough, rough post but Kaitlyn is crying for a diaper change and I would rather change her diaper than finish and then edit this post. Maybe I'll get to it tomorrow!

-Ed

Finally

A decent picture of me holding my baby, when I have had some rest!

Please note that Kaitlyn is pointing to her mouth, asking to be fed.



8)

-Ed

It Is Better

It is my nature, and perhaps human nature, to more clearly remember the details of failure than success. I suppose that this, intuitively, makes sense: were we to succeed at something it means we didn't have so much to learn whereas failure reminds us that there are things we have yet to master.

Incumbent in that mindset, and perhaps a modern mindset, is the notion of repetition until success (a-la video game, unless you don't play video games, in which case it can be a-la something else). And we have all had episodes in our lives where we have applied and reapplied ourselves to some task, large or small, with a conviction to do it until it has been done right: Victory by rote. Yet, the vast majority of interpersonal human experience does not lend itself to retake. Reflecting on lost friendships, lost loves, lost business opportunities, lost anything, really, casts the standard of victory by rote in an unsteady light.

A long time ago when I was both single and not wanting to be single, a friend set me up on a blind date with someone who could only be described as incompatible with me. At dinner (is there a rule that all blind dates involve dinner and a movie?) we got on the topic of reading as this woman's mother happened to be a writer -- bonus points in my book, no pun intended. Allow me to diverge and bring you scenes from a Chinese restaurant:

Ed: So, what do your parents do?
Odd girl who is best described as incompatible: My mom is a writer.
Ed: That's fantastic! Do you like her work?
Odd girl who is best described as incompatible: I don't read. I hate reading.
Ed: Oh. If you have any trouble with the menu, let me know!

And that was where the date ended for me. I'm not sure where it ended for her. Oh, sure, we finished dinner, went to a movie, drove home and ended the evening with a handshake. There was no desire to call this person again and say "let's do Chinese again and try to get it right".

These misses lend some timber to our lives. Some, as above, give us a humorous story. Some deal honest regret, or pain, or shame. Others, a steely resolve to never miss like that again. Sometimes these misses hit as bittersweet -- a needed reminder that catching the horizon is, as an endeavor, as impossible as it is noble.

I've spent a little time reviewing some of my own misses. I haven't had many big ones lately as I've been pretty luck in love and in work. I've had to drop or otherwise re-arranged some friendships, though. Social as I try to be, that always counts as a miss to me.

What I've found is that time spent in reflection of these misses is far more therapeutic than time spent relishing in one's successes. Especially with some vaguely depressing music. In the hot tub. With a glass of port.

And why the reflection? Because I have had occasion to look at a perfect little being who has not yet had an opportunity to accumulate misses. It makes me remember that I was once so unencumbered. As the saying goes.... You've come a long way, baby.

-Ed

Obligatory Baby Post

Just an update on the baby. Kaitlyn is doing just fine and mom and dad remain surprisingly well rested. I've been out of contact for a little while, so let me do a little dad Q&A:

Does the baby cry alot?
Not ours. She will cry when she is over-hungry (i.e we missed the usual signs and/or let her go too long). Even more odd, baby crying does not bother me -- a fact I credit to growing up in a boisterous Italian family. On the rare occaisions when she cries and there is no reason (most usually and understandably from gas) the only thing that raises my radar is the thought that she is in pain.

How go the diaper changes?
I change about 90% of the diapers. If I had a choice between diaper changes and changing cat litter, I would change diapers the rest of my life. Now, we are breastfeeding (Linda loves how I say "we") so our baby's poo has a decidedly sweet (and equally decidedly temporary) odor. However, for the next several months I get to tell people that "my baby's **** don't stink". How often in our lives can we say that?

What has surprised you most about dadhood?
There have been several surprises about dadhood. I am surprised that I did not faint in the deliver room, the hospital room, in the van, at home, or in the pediatrician's office. There is a small part of me that is proudly surprised that I have not fainted while typing this blog entry. But that isn't the biggest surprise. The biggest surprise is that I have kept and grown my internal calm since becoming a father. More on that in its own blog entry.

How hard is breastfeeding?
I've found it almost impossible to breastfeed. Actually, I've found it actually impossible to breastfeed. Linda, however, has been at it like a pro since we left the hospital. Aside from the fact that she feels like moo-ing sometimes, this has been a success for us, so far.

If everything is so hunky-dory, where have you been these past 2 weeks?
Cleaning my garage. Really. Pictures to follow. In the past 2 weeks I've built some new things for my garage, torn down tons of old shelving, installed new garage organizational systems, and generated about a dozen bags of trash. I took a week off of work and work from home quite a bit. Having a baby has been the most productive thing to happen to my "household chores" list in years.

Does being a dad make you feel different?
Yes. And no. But lately, yes. But on retrospection, no. I shouldn't kid myself. It's yes. Unless I'm just refocusing what is already there, so, no. 8) Seriously, it's a tricky question. I feel just like pre-dad Ed, only more fulfilled. Technically, that is feeling different. I'd liken it to falling in love which is, of course, exactly what is happening. But it's not different in that the adjustment period, so far, has been pretty minimal.

Do you regret waiting so long to have kids?
I regret not meeting Linda until later in life. And I regret most relationships up until that meeting.

So how much do new parents really talk about poo
OMG. All the time. All the frickin' time. It's like that time on Family Guy when they made that one poo joke and everyone laughed until they thought about if Peter Griffin was really standing in their house doing that and then the laughs got all uncomfortable. Good friends of ours had a baby 10 days after we did and we went to visit them this week. The first 10 minutes was non-stop poo. Color, quantity, frequency, consistency. Poo. They should make a cable channel for new parents called "Poo TV" with line-ups like:

- Is that meconium or did someone pave my baby's ass with asphalt (ass-phalt?)
- Pardon me, but does your baby's look like Grey Poupon?
- The 600 causes of green poo (from harmless oddity to dire emergency) and how not to be able to differentiate.
- Did that sound I heard from 3 rooms away indicate the need for a diaper change?

Well.. you get the idea. New parents talk poo alot. Babies do 3 things: eat, sleep, and evacuate. One of the prime piece of telemetry from a baby is their pooing habits and color, consistency, and count all say something about how the baby's insides are fairing.

So, I hope I was able to answer some dad questions for those who have not had a chance to talk with me about life over the past 2 weeks. I'll start posting back more regularly as soon as the garage is done.

-Ed