The Modernish Father

Although I’ve been amazed by how much I had forgotten about having a newborn in the house, I’ve been equally amazed at (and very thankful for) how quickly it all comes back. After some initial fogginess, I’m glad to report that the day-in, day-out mind-numbing rituals of parenting a newborn are once again a part of my day.

The Girl has been sleeping like a champ at night for the most part, but last night was an unfortunate exception. She decided that instead of taking one big bottle and then zonking out for four hours, she’d just top off her tank every hour or so. As the one doing the tank topping, I can assure you that this plan is no good.

The Wife has been giving her the late-night feedings for the most part. This makes sense on paper, since they can nap during the day and I have to be at work (where napping is not encouraged). In practice however, it’s all about the same in the end.

When The Girl gets up for her feeding, I’m the one who trudges out into the kitchen and prepares the bottle. This generally involves letting The Dog out as well. Then I attempt to go back to sleep while The Wife feeds our little one about 24 inches away on the other side of the bed. With all the smacking, burping and occasional fussing, I’m not really getting any more sleep than The Wife is. (Although I try to make up for it whenever possible.)

Generally, I’ll take The Girl into the living room for the early morning feeding (which happens somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00) because by that point I’ve given up and figure The Wife should have a shot at more than an hour of uninterrupted slumber. It also gives a chance to watch both Sportscenter and Star Trek before breakfast, which is nice. It’s not so nice when The Boy wakes up at 6:45 and reminds me that my day is really just beginning again.

Other than the lack of sleep, life is fairly good. The Girl had her two-week checkup last Friday and weighed in at an even ten pounds. She had to get her blood taken for screening, after which the nurses applied a very serious-looking bandage around her wee ankle. Other than that, she’s mostly just been hanging around and being cute.

Blanketed in success

After making more trips to H-E-B than I could count and collecting the necessary 500 points, The Boy is now the proud new owner of an official 30×40 H.E. Buddy Blanket.

It’s actually quite nice for a kids’ mail-in freebie. I wouldn’t want it to be the only thing I had if I were stuck in Siberia, but it’s soft and relatively good at trapping body heat. The Boy likes it enough to have taken it to school as a replacement for his old nap time blanket.

Apparently The Boy didn’t get the whole “mail-in prize” concept. After we assembled his points and mailed them in last week, he started asking me when we would be driving to San Antonio to pick up his blanket. Even after I assured him that they would mail the blanket to our house, he kept asking me each day when we’d hit the road. Now that the blanket is in his hot little hands, he seems pretty miffed about not getting to go back to San Antonio. Oh well, life can’t be free blankets and road trips every day.

Fries at the bottom of the bag

• Kudos to The Wife for sticking with her WGA brethern and refusing to write on her blog. At least, I guess that’s what she’s doing. Otherwise, there’s not much excuse for her being at home all day with a sleeping child and not writing anything. I guess she could be drinking. Or gambling.
• The Wife and I made the same mistake on Sunday that we always do – going grocery shopping the day before a semester begins. You can’t beat waiting to get down an aisle for twenty minutes while a gaggle of 18-year olds debate the merits of each kind of honey mustard on the shelf.
• I’ve played fantasy baseball a couple of times and knew some guys who were into fantasy golf and fantasy NASCAR, but I had no idea that fantasy bass fishing existed. And I don’t know that it should.
• I have officially passed judgment that Cherry Coke Zero is okay. You may now drink it and be confident that I don’t think any less of you.
• In news that must have the Chamber of Commerce spinning, my hometown of Lake Jackson was mentioned somewhat prominently in the 15-year old racist “Ron Paul” newsletters that recently made the media rounds.
• I am sorely missing baseball. There’s still a month and a half until college ball starts up again. Now that the Hall of Fame beauty contest voting is done, the only thing I have to look forward to are steroids stories and thinking about the Astros’ woeful lack of starting pitching.
• Thank goodness the first round of primaries and caucuses are over. Now Iowa and New Hampshire can return to the complete obscurity they so rightly enjoy for three out of every four years. Who will speak at their daily communal pancake breakfasts now?