Showing posts with label dad blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad blog. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Baby bath time




Bath time is a sacred time for parents and their babies.  Bonding time.  It's about bonding.  And hygiene.  Sure one of you splashes around uncontrollably, 'tearless' soap in eyes while battling the constant water-boarding like an uncooperative Rumsfeld prisoner, but once you step back and take the upper hand over your child there's a real bonding that occurs. 

There's a cuteness about a sopping wet and sparkly clean baby splashing around in their own filth diluted with three gallons of water that is simply precious.  The wonder of water, wild hair and the giggle of glee with each splish-splash.  Pictures must be taken from non-revealing angles, unless the photographer is a grandparent and then it's full on Paparazzi.  Some of the greatest memories and incredible black mail photos that can be used and reused for decades are from bath time.  Most importantly, that incapacitatingly wretched poo stench has been replaced with the most wonderful new baby smell...  at least until you fasten that last button on the PJs and then all bets are off.

Our baby has a war chest of play toys for the bath.  They are a variety of plastic sea creatures and cups that shoot and spray water.  There are rubber duckies, animated fish, little red crabs with googly eyes, silly octopus and purple penguins.  They're great.  I play with them when the opportunity arises, without going out of my way of course.  Last night I also discovered that some of them are the most revolting toys in the history of bath toys.


For years parents and children have been warned about the toxicity of lead.  How Chinese (mostly) toys must be bought with caution for fear that terrible chemicals and toxins were used in the creation of said toys and/or the toys have been painted with lead or cyanide, or the Ebola virus.  I personally don't know anyone who became sick from these terror toys, was hospitalised or even grew a second head but I was very informed of the dangers.  I am certain these horror toys exist but I can't imagine finding them at the local Jersey Baby's R Us, and I refused to Google it.

The bath toys we brought into the giant blow up princess tub for our daughter were all made especially for children and crafted to the highest standards for safety and educational merit (whatever that means).   Some of these toys allow for kids and their parents to fill up the insides with water and squirt them out like a spitting fish or crab, ect.  They're cute, amusing and lots of fun.  They also apparently fill with black mold and squirt a nasty mix of water and mold flakes that ironically resemble bits of sea weed.  This alone is disturbing, but discovering this as your baby sprays her water toy in her face is extra special.

THE HORROR!!!

Manni didn't care. 

Mommy was simultaneously bewildered and furious. 

Daddy may have retched...  and then realized that there was only one way to remedy the situation.

Tonight would have to be Ice Cream Time!

Manni's favorite squirting toys are now taking a bath themselves... A bleach bath.


Monday, August 6, 2012

Baby Developmental Milestones



There are so many wonderful milestones parents get to experience in the first year of a baby's life.  Children grow so quickly in the first year and pass milestone after milestone faster than most parents would like.  If we're lucky we have a camera or video camera ready to capture these precious moments.  Each day we work with our children to prepare them for their next milestone and anxiously await the next phase in their development.

When our children so proudly succeed in their newest breakthrough, we as parents erupt with joy and content and then immediately long for the six week old cooing and needy infant we held in our arms just months earlier.  Do we fear the gradual independence of a growing child?  Do we selfishly long for the cute and loving dependence exuded from a newborn?  Or is it just the smell?

Perhaps it's none of this.  Perhaps its just enjoying the memories of your child as they grow and longing to relive the best ones.  And that is why being lucky enough to experience and sometimes capture on film/digitally these awesome milestones as they happen is cherished so deeply by the sentimental.



I would have no idea about any of this.

I have yet to experience a single milestone at its inaugural occurrence with the exceptions of phenomenal acts of excretion and/or regurgitation. 

Lets run through some great baby milestones and who was there to experience them.

Lifting of head - both of us because the baby was with us 24/7 for the first four weeks

Sitting up - Sarah

Sitting up on own - Sarah

Crawling - Sarah w/ video

Pulling up - Sarah

Cruising - Sarah

Power Poop - David

EDIT: Baby crawling up stairs - Grandma (just now while I was writing this)



Not only have I not been personally present for essentially all of the major milestones up until this point, but I have been to sole creator of milestone regression.  Recently I went to Montreal for a bachelor party.  I left on a Friday and returned on Sunday.  48 hours I was gone.  In that time Manni became so upset with my absence that she refused to pull herself up for a week.

Before I left she was standing constantly.  Pulling herself up everywhere, on chairs, tables, slick walls, pant legs.  Anywhere and everywhere.  She didn't just stand, she'd travel from one place to another using both legs, both directions and spinning without issue.

Once I returned...  nothing.  Just crawling.  If you attempted to 'help' her she immediately dropped into a split.  I was dumbfounded.  Google couldn't help me.  No one had ever reported on a baby going on strike.  I spent a week working through the 7 steps of grief and just when I was resigned to accept that'd she'd be crawling for the rest of her life, Manni pulled herself up, smiled at me and shuffled away (had on the table).  I'm surprised she didn't whisper "punk" as she scooted away.

Nothing like a baby showing stubbornness and insight before their first birthday.  Can't wait to see what I'm up against in this next year.



Twitter : @babymanni
http://thelifeandtimesofmanni.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Baby's first 4th of July, Fireworks and Pooping on the boardwalk aka Massive Baby Diaper Blowout



This was baby Manni's first 4th of July.  We drove down to Bradley Beach during the time allotted for her morning nap (Manni naps twice a day.  The first starting between 9:30-10:15 and the second around 2:30-3:00).  Baby Manni loves sleeping in the car sometimes falling asleep the second the car pulls out of the driveway.  This trip despite there being no traffic (No shore traffic?  I know, blasphemy!)  Manya refused to sleep and spent her time alternating between her patented "do do dooo!" and her unoriginal and desperate screaming.  Any chance we could make this stop and get some rest?  A/C?  Wind through the windows? Perhaps a pacifier or some white noise?  None of those tactics abated the issue and Rhianna only made it worse (as it always does).

This is what I see when I check if she's sleeping.

Once we arrived at the shore Manya had slept a maximum of eight minutes and as soon as she caught glimpse of Grandma and Great Aunt Ruth she was too excited to calm down. 

Onto the beach!



Holy crap was it hot!  A mind sweltering 97 degrees with 160 degree sand.  But the baby (who was carried through the lava sand) loved it.  Loved the sand, loved the baby pool filled with salt water, loved the hundreds of people waving and smiling at her.  Mostly Manni loved the salt.  If she could talk Manni would have said, "Wats Dis?  Salty!  Salty! Salty!  I Luv Salty!" 

Between the thousand attempts at drinking the Atlantic Ocean, freaking out with excitement over waves splashing her legs, having her eyes pop out of her head every time a sea gull walked by "Doo!" and digging in the sand, Manya fell asleep.  At the beach.  Sound asleep with forth of July chaos all around her. 

When she awoke we watched the sea gulls destroy a poor family's half open cooler filled with cookies and sandwiches.  Two dozen gulls wreaked havoc on the impromptu picnic as Manni giggled and skrieked with each hop of a mischievous gull or jittery wing flap.  Soon the fat white gluttons took flight and began bombing the beaches from above.  Manya had no idea of the stinky danger being dropped on us innocent beach goers but I was quite certain to quickly retreat away from the bombing zone.  Grandpa was not so lucky and had to take a rather serious dip in the ocean.

It was a good day.






With the Fourth of July on a Wednesday the scheduling of fireworks varied by town and date.  Due to this there seemed to be new fireworks every day of the weekend AND on Wednesday the 4th as well.  Pretty cool. 

For our 4th Firework display we made the short walk down the boardwalk to Asbury Park.  No, we did not see Bruce Springsteen on our jaunt but we did see hundreds of Jersey peoples eager to see some explosions.   People watching the Jersey Shore is so good there could be a show about it....  wait for it... wait for it... yep.

The fireworks were scheduled to commence at 9:15 which was after Manni's usual bedtime.  We hoped the excitement of the people on the boardwalk would energize her enough to push through and see her first firework display.  By the time we made the twenty minute walk down the boardwalk and turned up the Pier to get a nice angle on the Asbury Park beach front, Manya was quite upset and was in no mood for remaining in the Bugaboo stroller.

Under normal circumstances Manni is dressed in cloth diapers but when we go on vacations or long day trips away from the home we tend to use disposables.  We love our cloth diapers but when you're a long way from home its easier not to lug around a bag of poopy diapers.  The fourth of July was no exception.  We did use a cloth swim diaper but opted for disposable regulars.

With Manni growing to full blown hysterics we pulled her out of the Bugaboo only to find a MASSIVE poo tidal wave of horror.  Shirt, pants, diaper, stroller, demolished.  The diaper was filled to the brim and had overflowed onto everything.  The most incredible part was it was totally solid.  This wasn't baby poo, it was ordinary grown child poo, just somewhere are 15lbs worth of it. 

No wonder she was so upset.

Poop Everywhere!

We went into full Jack Bauer mode for the clean up.  Hands flipping the baby, tearing away clothes and tossing around wipes.  Flipping portable changing pads and scooping up rogue chips of shit.  I must admit I was in shock at the amount of waste that came out of this cute little baby. 

-One full diaper (and when I mean full I mean you could do curls with it)
-One fully covered shirt
-One pair of pants that held enough that it could be considered a second diaper
-One Bugaboo fleece cover (thank god we had that on top of the Bugaboo canvas) with a full human sized poo on it
-Four to Six pairs of hands that needed full scrub downs
-A chip of shit on the boardwalk

Yes, that's right, a chip of shit. 

During the premiere of Cirque de Soleil Asbury Park, a chip of shit had flown off one of the poop covered items and landed on the wood Pier.  We all spotted it but in our haste no one had actually cleaned it up.  Being that it was 9:12PM by the time the baby was cleaned and changed and there was no light remaining in the sky, the chip of shit disappeared as the sun dipped behind the horizon. 

It was there, in the darkness, hiding, stalking us like an assassin. 

A chip of shit.

An assassin of poo.

Lying in wait, ready to be stepped on, or sat on by the first family member who forgot about its existence. 

Yes, it happened and I'm not proud of it.  I left my child's chip of poop on the Pier by Asbury Park.


Moving on.

The fireworks were amazing.  Yea remember that we were going to see fireworks for our nations birthday before we were horribly sidetracked by the poo-nami (credit to Josh once again) of the decade?   Well the fireworks were great and despite our reservations over a the possibility that the explosions might be scary for a 10 month old, Manni had no fear.  On the contrary.  She was SOOOOOO excited.  With every explosion the clapped and giggled and whipped her head around to smile at everyone.  "You see Dis?".  "Look at Dat!"  She made tons of "Oooooooo"  and "Dooohs!" 




And just as the finale began she crashed hard.  The Ergo got strapped on (as the Bugaboo was a poop zone now) and Manya was out.

The walk home was crowded with sugar crashing children racing around like lunatics.  I think children after 9 at night play games where their only goal is to chop block adults by throwing their bodies into the back of your knees as hard as they can. 

In other news there were at least 60 Muslim women going to the beach at 10:00 at night.  I know the lifeguards are done at 5:30 and the sun went down at 8:45 plus these women are wearing burkas covered everything except their eyes and its all black.  If a rip tide gets 'em they're done for.

Sarah made the astute observation that I might be Ramadan and they were cleansing themselves in the pure open water after the sun went down but I looked it up and Ramadan doesn't start until July 20th. 

So I have no idea what we stumbled upon but I sure hope they swim as safely as possible in the pitch black of night.



Monday, June 11, 2012

Baby Jail and keeping your baby safe

I caved and we bought a baby jail.

The goal of a baby jail is to keep your baby safe and confined to a specific location once they are mobile.  People have different concepts of what constitutes a baby jail.  Some parents have their kids strapped into their car seats, others put them in an extra saucer and let them bounce away.  A crib or pack 'n play could also be used to contain active children safely.  I've seen child gates put in doors to keep babies in their nurseries, or gates used to quarantine children to certain safe rooms.  We chose to purchase an octagon shaped Superyard.

The super yard was purchased to keep Manni confined in a safe place with a number of her toys for entertainment but allow her the freedom to see Mommy and/or Daddy in the room.  We the parents would be able to be productive with the freedom of being able to use both of our hands at the same time while having the piece of mind that the baby was safe and secure.  This of course was all in theory.

When we first setup the pen upstairs Manni enjoyed her new surroundings and even used the walls of the play pen to practice pulling herself up.

 


During the day I moved the jail to the basement.  This is what the safe zone looks like when setup downstairs for our baby Manni.


It looks great right?  Yea Manni loved it too for about six minutes until she realized that I was being productive on the couch and that she wasn't able to crawl freely.  She became unbelievable annoying and by annoying I mean she wouldn't stop crying.  Tears and tears and ugly face and red eyebrows and snot and total meltdown.  Mind you this complete breakdown is all happening no more than six inches from me by a baby surrounded by toys.

I'm the tough parent.  I don't fold under the cuteness and heartache of a few tears.  I wasn't taking her out of her jail because that would defeat the purpose of buying the walls to begin with.  I knew that if I let her out due to her crying that she would have won the battle and would gain the upper hand in the child-parent tug of war for authority.  Her crying and screaming would not sway my decision to keep her in the safe area.  She would not be granted the freedom to crawl anywhere she wanted, no siree!





So the baby jail gained a new occupant. 

I know.  Pathetic.

Trivia question - what's more exciting that all the toys in the world?

Answer - Whatever Daddy is playing with.

Working in baby jail is difficult but can be feasible in small spurts.  We got into a rhythm and had a nice thing going until the dog got jealous that he wasn't involved in our baby jail party.  He whined and whined and paced back and forth.  He licked the sides and circled and his whine turned into a shrill.

It was unbelievably annoying.

Enough was enough.

This had to stop!









And then there were three.

For the record we do have a whole house.

So the baby and the dog played.   In the baby jail.  With me inside too.  All three in one little octagon with 400 baby toys.


Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Sleep regression, CIO, crawling, baby jail, baby sleep positions



The Baby is crawling.  She's not a speed demon yet but she is very sneaky and can be quick.  The increased mobility means less time for writing and a good deal of time learning what's dangerous in my house.

Our house has been fully childproofed.  Poisons, pans, sharp objects and glassware is locked away, wires have been tucked aside (as best as they can), doors closed, corners softened and all other baby proofing opportunities have been taken care of.  Nonetheless baby Manni - like all babies - will find any and all possible dangers quickly and with no thought to her own safety.  Fully baby proofing a home is impossible but I'm fairly confident that the precautions we have taken should suffice for the time being until she learns how to climb or pick locks (possibly July?).

A vast majority of Manya's free roaming time is spent tormenting Cojack the dog.

My Ear!

The dog likes people but when he's hot he likes to rest.  During the summer the dog lies on the cold floor for hours at a time enjoying being lazy.  The new love the baby gives him has thrown him for a loop.  Adults and children give rubs and pats.  They tickle behind ears and whisper sweet nothings.  Baby Manni offers full body presses, ear pulling and little finger massages (he likes those).  After a few minutes it become a game of chase as Cojack runs away from the baby and she follows him unrelentlessly.


I have been playing with the idea of Baby Jail.

In order to keep baby Manni from wondering unsupervised and/or tormenting the old dog, I'm considering confining the baby for short amount of times in an octagon fenced in playpen.  I hate the idea of the baby jail but it may come in handy.  Part of me believes its a pathetic cop out to purchase a pen for a baby but part of me likes the idea that I know exactly where she is and what she's doing when I'm trying to do work.  I'm weighing my options.

Switching gears, getting a baby to sleep is a full time job.  A job that, like the stock market, is constantly changing, adapting, and working with all its might to destroy you.  Once you think you've gotten a hold of it and are master of your domain, nothing works anymore and you have to start anew.

We are always working on getting Baby Manni a good nights sleep and several solid naps each day.  We've discussed it in sleep posts, and sleep regression posts.  Recently we tackled the CIO method.  CIO stands of Cry It Out.  There are many, many parents who swear by this approach and it works great for their children.   There are also many people who believe it is the cold and heartless approach to getting a baby to sleep. 

I believe the CIO approach is one in which, similar to Spider Man III, everyone cries.  The babies cry, the mommies collapse in front of the door in a heap of maternal guilt and cry, Kristen Dunst with her snagged tooth and Spider Man cry.  Even the bad guy Sandman cries.  (I thought SpiderMan 3 was ridiculous)

Bottom line.  Everyone is miserable and after the baby can no longer cry for her parents love she collapses in a heap of sweat, tears and abandonment.  The parents are unnerved and can not function properly or relax even after the baby is crying due to the stress of the ordeal.  The meaning behind this torture for all involved is that the child will learn to put themselves to sleep on their own and eventually not cry to exhaustion.

So we put ourselves through this torture for somewhere around 9 or 10 nights.  First it was an hour minutes of hell.  Then 50, then 45, then 31, then 29, then 26 (Oh look a pattern!)  but then Manni said Fuck You! and we went to 39, 48, and then the one night of real devilish fun, 16 minutes of hysterics, followed by 2 minutes of quiet into 15 minutes of crying and 2 minutes of silence (repeat 4 more times) and then back to half an hour of crying until ENOUGH!!!!! 

Cry It Out is not for us.  Not because it doesn't work - I'm sure it works wonders for numerous parents - but because Manya defeated it despite our best efforts.  Because she's stubborn.  Because listening to a baby scream to the point of losing her voice (she still has a strained voice) for 30-45 minutes for a week and a half is horrible.  Because we can get our baby to sleep without having her cry it out.  And because if we can't get her to sleep by other methods (due to teething, sickness, or pure stubbornness) we don't mind co-sleeping from time to time.

The only downside to co-sleeping is the midnight attacks from Baby Manni.  Manni is a HOG of the bed!  For such a little baby she loves to take up the whole bed!  She kicks, she chops, she punches both of us to make as much room for herself as possible.  She also has to be touching both Sarah and myself at all times which makes things very interesting. 

The following image taken from Fail Blog perfectly explains the challenges of co-sleeping and one of the reasons its nice to have your baby sleep in her crib most of the time.
http://failblog.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/epic-fail-photos-parenting-fails-baby-sleep-positions.jpg


Manni does sleep in her crib most of the time but when she is taking over the bed she performs a violent combination of "The Roundhouse", "Snow Angels", "H is for Hell" and "Jazz Hands".  Three nights ago I was awoken to three swift karate chops to the back of the neck only to find baby and mommy cuddling in "The Dog House" position silently.  I'm 95% sure I didn't dream it.

Of course to get Manni to go to bed we have several different tricks.  Our most successful baby calming technique is the Yoga Ball.  We've used the bouncing technique to calm Manya down since she was very very young and I touched upon it in a long time ago in  this post.  Manya hates bouncy seats, rockers and lying in cribs.  Her true passion is the fart ball/yoga ball.

Most homes have a giant yoga ball taking up space but rarely being used.  We use that yoga ball as our bouncing ball to rock/bounce our baby to sleep.  While holding the baby in our lap with her either sitting or lying down we slowly bounce on the ball.  The rhythm of the bouncing puts Manni out within minutes.  A side effect of the yoga ball rhythmic bouncing is that the ball also unexpectedly releases any and all gas stored inside your body.  The plastic ball reverberates the sound of said gas tenfold and distorts it into either an unusual duck quack or a sticky wet balloon.

Note to readers: If attempting the yoga ball method for the first time do so without company in the room.  Know you limitations.

For the record I love the yoga ball.  Not only does it put the baby to bed but it provides hours of entertainment.  It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Now for some pictures:
Too Cute!

Whats that?

I kinda like the blurry drool.

She likes swing.


That is not my voice.


Twitter : @babymanni
Instagram: @babymanni

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Pediatrician baby fun




 This is our interpretation of the 1986 Jim Henson and David Bowie film "Labyrinth"



I took the baby for her first blood test today.  I had to drive to a special office called LabCorp for the blood taking.  What ever happened to doctors office's doing everything and specialists actually specializing in something SPECIAL?  Taking blood is one of the first things doctors and nurses learn to do, but they no longer actually take blood?   I know its an insurance thing, but it still makes no sense that patients have to spend time going to the doctors office, and then spend more time going to a LabCorp so they can take your blood.  Great allocation of time.  At least I didn't have to use up vacation time on it.

This is the first time I've gone to a LapCorp.  I don't go to doctors.  I recently (two years ago) went to my primary care after years of dodging it.  I hate extremely sterile places (I.E. hospitals, doctors offices, ect.) and avoid them at all costs (the birthing experience was rather difficult for me to say the least but I wasn't the one giving birth).  I also have issues with getting my blood taken.  I don't actually pass out, but get as close to losing my dignity as you possibly can while still maintaining the minimal amount of consciousness.  Essentially I'm a zombie that sweats profusely but is consciousness enough that I'm able to comprehend all the snide jokes mumbled by the nursing staff.  For this reason, when I mustered up enough courage - and had an appointment scheduled by my adamant wife - to visit my primary care and found out that I'd have to schedule ANOTHER appointment strictly for blood testing I knew that there was no way that was going to happen.  Appointment never made, no blood taken.

Today was the first time I've gone to a LapCorp.  Today I learned Baby Manya isn't as much of a baby as I am. 

That was a lie.

She's totally a baby. 

Totally.

LabCorp was a complete shit hole.  Not entirely their fault as they are moving to a new location in three days but holy crap they really didn't care about this facility at all.  It was a dump.  I felt like I was at the NJDMV circa 1992 minus the lines and minus the bugs.  You didn't sit down at the DMV, you could sit down at LabCorp. 

The nursing staff was 99% Indian (I only say 99% because there's always the chance one is from Pakistan or Bangladesh and they would get super pissed at me if I mistook their nationality) and they were excellent.  Super nice.  Super good at their job.  They also loved Manya and all crowded around helping each other and trying to make the baby comfortable.  Seriously, there were four nurses and doctors enjoying the baby.  Well, it was either that they just thought she was really cute or they all wanted to watch me sweat profusely at the sight of blood. 

I for some reason was under the impression that baby blood taking was done through the heel.  I was mistaken.  Nine month olds get blood taken from their arm just like adults but with a much smaller needle.  The needle was so small it was almost cute... almost, because its attached to a tube that makes the whole blood taking experience look like a meth lab.  A meth lab where I try not to look too disheveled and/or pass out.  But it was happening.  Here we go...

The nurses cooed and smiled. 

I hugged the baby aka prevented her from ripping out the needle and injuring herself.  And I sweat. 

Manya screamed and screamed and screamed and turned about as red as a stop sign, then turned purple, then turned red again and then sweat more than I did.  The nurses in mid-blood draw actually discussed the shade of red Baby Manni was turning.  When it was over we all felt terrible for the diaphoretic tomato in my arms. 

One of the nurses was so disheveled by it that while backing away with the blood sample she accidentally walked into the cubical wall and broke it off the wall.  Seriously.  That's how much of a shit hole this place was!  A 105 lb nurse could accidentally break through the wall WWE style.  Beast mode.

When we got home all the poor baby wanted to do was sleep.

Baby Manni resting after a hard day.


Crazy eyes!

Abuelo!


Friday, May 4, 2012

Baby falls, sneezing baby and boogers!



Holy crap, last night the baby tried to kill herself.  Not in a Sylvia Plath or Kurt Cobain kind of way, no, she went directly for the 'overly excited about Daddy in my bedroom in the middle of the night, lets test the Laws of Gravity and Daddy's reactions while sleep walking' method of self-destruction.

I passed the test.   Somehow while facing the wrong direction with limited light and clad in just underwear, my cat like reflexes caught my suicidal baby and her delicate head.  There was no true logic to the event other than she was so excited that she wanted to "launch" herself into my arms from 5 feet away with my back turned.  Despite my success I had a brief but powerful heart attack, almost had to change my underwear, and decided not to tell my wife.  Yea I don't use the strap on the changing table because she wiggles and squirms her way out of it.  Never was an issue before.

Well at least we have hard wood floors to break the fall.  I feel like I should be walking around with 17 pillows to soften the blow from any fall.  Then again, wouldn't Darwin say 'survival of the fittest'?  That might work if you have fifteen kids running around, but when you only have one little rug rat who just smiles, coos and tries to launch herself into a full fledged NASA test of gravity you (as parents) tend to care about the well being of that infant.

Bottom line, no harm no foul.  She hasn't been dropped or fallen from any piece of furniture yet (not from lack of trying).  I assume its inevitable at some point, but I'd prefer the soft shell firm up a little more before we start testing it.

I'm funny!

Is there anything cuter than a baby sneeze?  It's amazingly cute.  Is amazingly even a word?  I'm pretty sure the smaller/younger the baby/creature/pet, the cuter anything is but sneezing is very cute.  Even the sound of a baby sneezing is cute.  You've all seen the panda sneeze.  I know I'm cheating by using a panda bear is my example, but you get the point. 

Baby + Sneeze = Cuteness

Well, it's cute until you see it in slow motion.  And it's cute when a baby does it until you realize there's a booger.  It makes sense there would be a booger.  People don't sneeze for any reason other than a tickle or blockage of the nose.  So finding a booger is entirely logical.  Logical and kinda gross because even though a baby is so teenie and precious, apparently their boogers are the same size as a full size adult.  And they're just as disgusting.

But babies don't use tissues.  And they tend to release their boogers as far away for a tissue as possible and/or in the middle of an activity where traveling to find a tissue is near impossible.  But you can't leave it on your baby's face because that's simply wrong.  So quite often I find myself walking around with someone else's boogers.  This is not fun.  In public everyone would think its mine and I'm just being a freak.  Imagine being at the park or the mall walking around with one nonchalantly looking for a tissue?  At home I could tell my wife to take the baby's booger from me but who's to say I'm not lying and just trying to get her to take my booger and not her baby's? (credit that line to Josh K)

As I'm sure you've deduced, the baby still has a stuffy nose which only occurs at night.  I spend my evenings in a world of boogers and sniffling.  It is the bane of my beauty rest and if I'm not beautiful in my old age I will forever blame Manya's stuffed nose.



Can we talk about the irony of fighting with the baby for forty five minutes to get her to go down for a nap.  After four separate attempts and finally getting the eyes to close and drift into a deep sleep the phone rings (land line, never happens) at full volume, and its the pediatric office!  Good times.

This is Manya's Peruvian outfit!

Manya on the swings for the first time ever!!!


Anyone ever notice that a baby crying kind of sounds like a cat?

We don't own a cat.  Just a baby.

Monday, April 30, 2012

Baby's first tooth, more sleep regression and more fun



We got our first toof!

I have no idea when it came in but yesterday I caught a fleeting glimpse at a sliver of white surrounded by a darker gum bruise.  Upon closer inspection to has been confirmed, the Toof Fairy arrived!  This Tooth Fairy is original as she creates drools puddles and sleepless nights rather than leaving quarters and dimes under your pillow.  The tooth is barely breaking the surface of the bottom front gum but it's interesting and exciting to see the baby's mouth slowly transforming into a vicious sharp bottle opener.  I'm quite certain Sarah's nipples will shortly no longer cherish the bonding time of nursing.

The wonderful milestone of our baby's first razor blade has been coupled with the inevitable restless sleep.  This sleep regression is not as intense as our first bout of sleep regression.  Logic would dictate that teeth breaking the fresh soft innocent gums in a baby's mouth would cause extreme discomfort (check), excessive drooling (check), some bruising and swelling (check) and the end result would be a lack of sleep by baby (check) and daddy (check)... and mommy (check).  The teething has also arrived at the same time a frustratingly irregular nose cold graced us with its presence.  This cold is evil.  Pure unadulterated evil.  It only reveals itself once Sarah and my eyes close for the night.  All tucked in, parents in their bed, baby in her crib, dog curled up in his, lights off, house locked.  Within minutes the thick snot grows and builds, slowly suffocating our baby and resulting in fearful and unnerving snorting, gasping and choking.  Disturbing cries for help and Daddy comes running armed with the horrible blue booger suction ball.

During the day, clear nasal passages.

At night, thick swamp-like pipes and (possibly caused by?) a cute white baby toof.

To add insult to injury, our suction ball is received by Baby Manni the way most would welcome a amputation; with paralyzing terror and asphyxiating abhorrence.  This all too common pure hatred of the snot suction ball all but assures us that if the initial inability to breathe didn't wake her up entirely, then after the exhuming is completed, we are all but guaranteed full bright eyes, bushy tails, tear drenched cheeks and a generally quite agitated infant.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat every hour and fifteen minutes.

Good times.

Cue alarm clock...  miraculous disappearance of nocturnal booger monster.

Baby is still cute.



I must insist this isn't the norm.  With a clear nose, Manya sleeps in her crib for hours and hours.  Often from 8:30-9:00 at night all the way until 8:30 in the morning.  Of course just because the baby doesn't wake us over the course of an evening doesn't necessarily mean we don't create our own adventures.

Two nights ago Manya crashed immediately following dinner and didn't wake until hours after the sun rose the following day.  I on the other hand apparently have delusions regarding the whereabouts of my infant over the course of a full night.  At around 4:15AM I awoke in a panic.  For some reason I believed the baby was in our bed, but had been misplaced somewhere within our sheets and comforter.  I thrashed around under the blankets flipping pillows and yanking at the sheets, patting everywhere in search of the lost infant.  The lights were off and not a beam of light penetrated the shadow of darkness, but neither the unyielding blindness nor the illogical search ceased my panic.  It wasn't until a still sleeping Sarah mumbled, "You search for the baby?  Stop it.  She's in her crib." that I calmed, realized I apparently "awake thinking I lose the baby in the bed several nights a month" and returned to my much needed slumber.

I'm quite a fool when the moon is out.

...

Also quite a fool when the sun is out.

Hey, look, bunny ears!






Here are some videos...

Chewing on the feet




Exciting grandma time!

Grandpa singing in Polish


And a little in Hebrew