Archive | August, 2011

words

28 Aug

Baby can basically get a couple of consonants strung together, mostly just ‘ba ba ba ba ba.’ He loves to just babble this way, but mostly nothing but ba ba ba. This despite my repeated attempts to get him to say ‘papa’ or ‘mama’ or some other words.

Today, he started saying ‘ma ma ma ma ma’ is baby mama’s general direction, so obviously she thinks it’s his first word. Then he looked at me, and said ‘Bert.’

Now baby mama is calling me Bert. So is my mother-in-law.

The indignities never end, do they?

Bath time

27 Aug

So, at 6:40pm, I’m in my pajamas (which are formal-ish, white pajamas today). Because I just got done giving baby a bath, and our latest thing is to take a bath with the little rugrat if we have time and inclination to do so. Baby mama is nursing the boy, which is followed by bed.

And the doorbell rings.

I tromp down in my PJ’s to meet the UPS guy downstairs. As he looks at me, at 6:40pm in my fancy white pajamas, I tell him, ‘um, it’s baby’s bath time.’ To which he responds, smirking, ‘I bet it is.’

So obviously we are going to have to move now.

Mockingjay

27 Aug

I don’t know that you would know this, but I’m slightly obsessed with dystopian teen fiction. This, if they capture any of the sense of the books, is going to be awesome.

Smells like shit

25 Aug

Ok, one of the things you all promised me was that the poop situation would continue to be ‘no big deal’ – some combination of ‘you get used to it’, ‘it’s like cleaning up after a dog’, ‘poop doesn’t bother me’, whatever. But I want to let you know that not only is the shit still gross, but it definitely smells, now that he’s eating solid food.

And there is something about the chemistry of the poop, the relatively small room he’s in, with the high ceiling, and my olfactory composition that is conspiring to get the smell of poop into my sinuses. Where I can smell it for hours after I’ve changed his diaper.

This whole bit, I suspect, is going to get much much much worse before it starts getting better.

The cryin’ aint never gonna stop

23 Aug

I don’t know if there is a causal connection here, but yesterday I write to my family updating them on baby’s development: “He is delighted with the world, probably 85% of the time. Just giant smiles, giggles, a halting but increasingly full-throated laugh. About 10% of the time, he’s just chill. And the other 5% he fusses, cries,
complains, and does other baby-like things.”

And this morning he wakes up at 3:50am crying, not going back to sleep. And now it’s 4:50am and I’m sitting here awake writing a blog post. WTF, baby?

UPDATE @5:25AM: The baby finally stopped crying. Or else the blood leaking from my ears has succeeded in muffling the sound.

Mom group adventures

22 Aug

So, this past Friday I had the baby all day, and while I was looking for fun stuff to do, it occurred to me that maybe I could get in on some of that hot mom-group action that my partner is always talking about. Park Slope Parents this and PSP that (um, not really so much). But still, this website home for the stroller mafia has lists and threads for almost anything you might imagine. Intimidating. When people point to PS as the home of the stroller mafia, PSP would be the centralized site for where the rebel parents are going to flashmob next.

Also, really, I don’t really know anyone in my neighborhood (for which I’d like to pretty much call Bullshit on all those people who talked about how I’d be making sooooo many new friends via my baby that I’d be fighting off the birthday celebrations and play dates), other than maybe our downstairs neighbors, and it’s kind of creepy to have your upstairs neighbor constantly knocking on your door asking if you and your babies can come out to play. Plus, lunch! How could I miss?

The group turned out to be much better in some ways than I had imagined. First of all, the lunch was indeed tasty. Bar Toto for the win, tomato-pesto-cheese panini and a salad/soup for like $12. There ended up being seven or eight of us, and while I was the only father, that didn’t seem to be much of a big deal. One of the things about teaching in sociology, and at a fancy-pants women’s college, is that I’m more or less used to being the only man in groups of women. Still, nice nice folks.

The babies, too, are pretty cute. Unsurprisingly, there was nary a conventional name to be seen. It was the ‘winter 2010’ babies group, which meant, since Bubeleh was actually born 12/13, that he is technically a ‘fall 2010’ baby. But rather than having him get trampled on by the bigger kids, in this group he could have eaten those other little babies. Plus, it gave me a whole ‘oh, you’re still doing a midnight feeding? That is sooo 6 weeks ago’ line of annoying responses.

There were two women in particular that were somewhat frightening, though still super-nice and friendly. One had just finished a half-marathon. I was trying to do the math on the training for this, as she had a 6-month-old baby. But since she let me know that there is a mom’s group that meets at a beer joint, well, who am I to complain.

The other woman was kind of a trip as well. First, while I’m all kinds of who cares about breastfeeding, man, she was pretty much nipples to the wind while doing it. We seriously need some new social mores to figure out how to manage the hatred/fetish/love/fear of boobies. I dunno. Maybe not so much ‘we’ as ‘I’. Plus, when people started talking about solid foods, which were good or bad, etc., said, ‘Oh, I make my own baby food. It’s not hard.’

Ok. I have actually said these two sentences. In a row even. But I have never heard them said out loud by someone else before. And let me say, there was a palpable ripple of ‘fuck you’ that spread around the table. I mean, wow, it turns out I must sound like a total dick. Yes, I know, knowledge that everyone already has about me, I’m sometimes slow to take it in.

Overall, it was a pleasant way to spend a Friday afternoon. I’m not sure any of these relationships are going to stick at all, since really I didn’t even swap info with any of these ladies. I guess I could go back to the PSP listserv and look up their info and such, but then it would probably be creepy.

Dead man walking

3 Aug

At least that is how I feel today. After getting home from HI around midday, I’ve gone from high energy to low energy, to dead on my feet. It didn’t help that baby, who went to sleep around 7:30pm last night, woke at 9, then 10:30, crying hysterically. 40 minutes later, like the awesome parent that I am, I was still all, ‘screw you, baby, cry it out sucka!’ But baby mama relented, went to play with our poor little thing, and then around midnight he (and partner) apparently went to sleep.

And they were still sleeping at 6 this morning! I, meanwhile, trudged off to my day job, which I had been neglecting for weeks (vacation? Pah!). And here I sit, like the dead, looking at my schedule and screen and trying to remember, wait, what did I even come here for this morning?

Anyhow, things in our household are back on rails. The dead iphone, which baby mama tossed in the washing machine, has limped back to life for now. A bag ‘o rice has delayed the inevitable corrosion and digital death for a bit of time at least. Ah, rice, you are both delicious AND an effective moisture wicker. When the rapture/heatpocalypse/snowpocalypse/zombiepocalypse comes, surely you will survive unscathed.

Things are afoot as well, baby-wise. Brooklyn baby is getting close to being mobile. It’s just a hop skip and a jump from there to mobile, agile, hostile. He’s got four teeth on top, and a couple on bottom; he craps bigger than Billy Crystal.

On the agenda this week: pick up my computer, contemplate a replacement phone, make some more baby food (pearsauce! peachsauce! minestrone soup!), get some sleep, re-find my bloggidy-voice. Finish Dance with Dragons. Gear up for more Sunday supper.

Remember, siate la fiamma non la falena!