A Much Needed Reprieve

Just a short note this week (sorry, everyone-- Aidan's been sleeping kind of rough and I'm too tired to be witty). Today is my last day of work for about a week and a half....and I can't wait. The plan is to take Aidan on day trips to various places around home, like the Aquarium and the zoo. After this weekend, anyway... this weekend we're going to visit Grandma and Grandpa M. But after that....man, a whole week of sleeping in and hanging out with my buddy. The mind reels. We're going to have some visitors too-- I think various and sundry friends will be filtering in and out of the house this weekend, and we're going to see Aidan's new buddy Justin (our friends had a baby boy Monday) at some point too. So it should be a nice, relaxing time. Catch you all next week-- hopefully I won't have to tell you how Aidan managed to eat a starfish or something like that.

I WIN!

Sunday was my first Father's Day. It started as any other Sunday-- you know, me being the best husband and father on the face of the planet despite it being MY day. I got out of bed to get up with Aidan around 5. Now, to her credit my wife did offer to get up with him, but that would have been two days in a row she did, so I said no. Not because it's fair, but because I didn't want her having any ammo the next time I screw something up. But I digress.

I got up with the boy and we went downstairs to play. And he proceeded to hit me with the baby equivalent of a nuke-- he said his first word right to my face. And that word is "Da-da". Honestly, I was amazed but skeptical. He's been accidentally making words for awhile now, but he's got no idea how to do it again. So I tried to get him to say it again. And lo and behold, he did! I had to fight the urge to run upstairs and jump on my still sleeping wife, to poke her in the chest and yell "I win". She's lucky I love her.

Anyway, from that point on, he's a da-da machine. Until she gets up. Then he clams up and won't say a thing. So of course I don't want to say anythign because I want her to hear it and be surprised, but it's KILLING me. So everytime she turns her back I whisper to my son to get him to do it. Of course, no dice. Finally I cave and tell her, and of course he immedietly breaks into peals of "da-da!". Now everything is da-da...the cats are da-da, his book is da-da, that particularly fetching piece of lint on the carpet is da-da. Some might think that takes away from my thrill, but they'd be wrong. It was the best Father's Day present I could have asked for.

Well, that and the iPod he got me. That thing is pretty sweet too.

Eruption (not the Van Halen kind, either)

Well, the day has come. Earlier than we had hoped, honestly, but there's nothing we can do. Aidan is.....teething. Personally, I think the whole idea of teething just a tad bit strange. I mean, if bone suddenly erupted from, say, your thigh, wouldn't you find it just a teensy bit disconcerting? "How you feeling today, John?" "Well, pretty good, but I got up this morning and my leg was a little sore....I think I'm getting a second femur, and this one's gonna be on the outside." There has GOT to be a better way to go about this process. Then again, I think teeth in general are a horrible idea. And proof that, as much as I hate to admit it, creationists may be right.

Think about it... in the early days, back when MTV still played music and the only reality show on television was Survivor: Don't Get Eaten by the Sabretooth, we definitely needed teeth. They were really, really useful to chew tough overcooked meat and cracking tough nut shells. So I can see needing them back then. However, if evolution REALLY existed, we would no longer have them-- we've ascended to a higher level replete with Hamilton Beach blenders and readily available liquid gold, or as I call it, Ensure. We don't really need to chew anymore, although trying to eat a steak in the form of a smoothie is admittedly a little less appealing. Fun, but less appealing. If I had my way, I would rip out all my teeth and slurp all my food. But I'd meet society halfway-- I'd get dentures so I wouldn't frighten all the little kids when I smiled.

But I digress. Aidan is definitely teething, and you can imagine (since he's nursing) who is more upset about this. He's still, as always, a really sweet natured little boy....during the day. At night he gets really upset though....he's fine to go to bed, but once he wakes up in the night he refuses to go back to sleep. Not that I blame him-- I'm very thankful that I can't remember my own teething experience, because I'm pretty sure that's the stuff nightmares and therapist bills are made of.

Anyway, we figured out Monday that this was the case, so I ran out to the store to get baby Orajel and more infant Tylenol. No, I'm a very loving, caring parent, so I wanted to see how bad the Orajel would taste to my little buddy. I took a tiny little bit and rubbed it on my gums. It kind of tastes like....well, if you wet a cherry and then rolled it in black pepper. I was making a face about it when I realized I couldn't feel my tongue. Or my gums. Or my lips. This stuff is GREAT! And I was numb for like 20 minutes too.... so I can only imagine what it did to him. But then I kind of began to feel bad, because it's got to be scary to no longer be able to feel half of your face for the first time. I mean, one second you're licking this neat-o peppered cherry stuff, and the next minute you're pretty sure your tongue has dissolved and your lips have melted off. Because hey, you're an infant, and you haven't yet realized you can use your hands to feel your own face (which is what the development books tell me). However, I suppose in the end I took solace in the fact that he doesn't realize what a face is anyway.

One more thing: we had to bring him back to bed with us. It was the only way we could get him to sleep well. So stay tuned for forthcoming whining about trying to get him back to his crib AGAIN. But hey, teething only lasts, like, a week, right? Right? NO?

Damn. Where's that baby Orajel?

Bring it, Sandman.

Sometimes, being a parent is almost like being a 5 year old the night before Christmas. Unless the universe explodes overnight, you know you're going to wake up the next day in a wonderful world where everything you ever wished for will come true. And really, who can sleep when you know that moment is a scant 8 to 10 hours away? That's how I feel now....Aidan is *almost* sleeping through the night. Oh, he's still getting up 2 times, but he goes RIGHT BACK TO SLEEP and he doesn't cry in between those times when his pacifier falls out.

So what happened? What finally caused this miraculous change? Well, therby lays a tale....

It's not a very long tale. We got so exhausted by his nightly shenannigans that we had to buy a book. I think it was called "How to Force your Precious Darling to Sleep Without Letting Them Wail at the Top of Their Lungs and/or Drugging Them, Possibly Risking Jailtime." That seemed a little better than the other book we were considering, "Duct Tape and You: 101 Ways to Keep Pacifiers Put." Apparently this book consists of structuring a nighttime ritual you can live with to help your child understand that it is definitely time for bed.

I say apparently, because I really have no clue. I know, I'm a bad father, but I haven't read the book. I've thought about it, and I've even picked it up, but that's about it. My wife is still nursing, so she's the last one to see him as he feeds right before bed. This doesn't mean I'm not involved, though-- I do what she tells me to help where I can, and once in awhile I manage to do it right. I personally still find the book useful, though. It's heavy enough to knock me out with one sharp self-inflicted blow to the head....ahhh, blissful sleep.

One last thought-- last night I realized I'm definitely going to be a good dad. We were sitting on the couch after Aidan went to bed, watching an episode of Lost on DVD. One of the characters was teaching the boy on the show to throw knives, and I "pshawed" when they did it. This earned me a cocked eyebrow, and without thinking about it I explained in detail that the knife they were using would never work for throwing because it was too unbalanced, and you'd have to throw it way harder than the boy actually was to overcome that and spin it fast enough to act as though it were weighted correctly.

Now THAT is the kind of random, potentially dangerous and possibly illegal stuff a dad SHOULD know. Well, that and why it's a bad idea to put gasoline in a blender.

Trust me.

Whoops

Well, I know I promised to update the other day, but...well, it was a good party. And now that I'm recovered, I can share some of the details as far as Aidan is concerned. He started early by playing in his little inflatable pool, which he absolutely loves. Not really a surprise, because bathtimes as of late have been more like playtime for him anyway. Once people started arriving, he put on the ol' charm and went to work.

For his first trick, he went face-first into the water and caused his mother to have a coronary. Good stuff, good stuff. Then he commenced charming all the ladies. Every woman there at some point came up to me to tell me what a little angel my son was, and how cute he is. I'm not sure why all of them looked surprised when they said he was cute... it can't possibly be because I'm a hideous man-beast. He was really good though-- he spent a long time in his Exersaucer outside, giggling and playing with our friend Al. The most surprising thing of the night was when he went to bed-- he slept like a log, despite the drunken yowlings under his window as we fenced with cigar tubes and shotgunned beers to the strains of Ozzy Osbourne. I hope he was taking notes on how to have a good party....but I suppose, if need be, we can throw as many as needed until he fully understands it.

Such is the sacrifice of a parent.