Tales of a House Husband

She Says

2011-01-24T15:43:00.004-05:00

Is it Spring yet?

(This post was started a week ago. Then Natalie got sick for a week. Now she is better. I am sick. Booo Germs.)

First, for all you Easterners worn out by the bevy of snow we've received this winter, I would like to remind you of what I believe Ghandi once said, "The journey of shoveling one's driveway begins with one God-Damn shovel-full"

With that, onto the Natalie-ism...

Recently I was making French toast for Sunday breakfast. Natalie was very excited because as she put it "French Toast? I haven't had that for a long time!" As if our mission in life is to deprive her of tasty breakfast foods.

She asked to immediately get into her booster seat so she could await her special breakfast. After a full twenty seconds passed she looked up from her seat, very concerned, and asked exasperatedly,

"Dada, has my toast been Frenched yet?"

I spent the rest of the day asking Sara if she had been Frenched yet.

She laughed so hard each time I asked, that it was at least noon before I actually succeeded...

All I Want for Christmas...

2010-11-15T21:51:00.002-05:00

Stay cool at Christmas, kids...stay cool.

Sara and I have begun our yearly winter talks: the absurdly lengthy discussions in which we make Holiday travel plans, decide what we should ask for, and most importantly, what to get Natalie.

Our negotiations over what we should request are much longer than they should be because when it comes to Holiday desires, Sara is practical (boring) while I am impractical (childish). So we debate if we should ask for various Wii games or a set of dishes. If only you could be a fly on the wall, you'd get so bored you'd hurl yourself repeatedly against the windowpane until you passed out. Then you'd smile with sweet macabre insect relief when you were scooped up and thrown outside to the birds.

When our discussion turns to Natalie it is less a debate about what she wants and more about what she actually needs. She is the only grandchild and the only niece/nephew on either side of our families, so she doesn't lack for much. In fact, we may need to add a wing to the house in order to shelve her books (Damn you Dr. Seuss). Last year we asked for art supplies and dress-up clothes and after our families were through, one might believe our house belonged to a struggling artist who likes to dress up in princess outfits...

I may be a struggling artist but I prefer fairy costumes...

This year the inquiries about what to get Natalie have begun. I've been informed that Black Friday is less than two weeks away. Since Natalie is three now and totally anticipating Christmas, last night over dinner we asked what's on her wish-list.

Her response:

"Well, um, I think I might want a rattle."

This surprised us, so we dug a little deeper...

"A rattle?"

"Well, what I think I want is two Jingle bells, so I can sing that song. You know the Jingle Bell song"

"Ah" We said, smiling and loving our sweet little elf even more.

She then explained, "Maybe I would also like a friend for 'Barbie Bunny', (for the inquisitive reader: Barbie Bunny is a large bunny given to Natalie by her great-grandmother that they stuffed together. She was completed with a tiny little pillow-heart) cause when I play with Barbie Bunny she doesn't have any friends who like to play with her, so maybe I would want a friend like her, but wearing a purple outfit" (Barbie Bunny wears pink)

At this point we had melted into our mashed potatoes.

She followed with, "And also it would be good to have a baby-doll to go with the other dolls (she was referring to her set of nesting dolls which are currently missing the tiniest doll, which could be lodged under something or may have run the gamut of Fenway's intestines and currently be somewhere in our yard, or better yet the neighbor's yard, decomposing) cause we lost the baby doll...so for now...it would be good to have another baby doll to go with the nesting dolls...for now."

She really wanted to clarify that this baby would just be a temporary substitute for the lost infant and not a permanent member of the nesting doll community.

She then wowed us completely by adding, "And I think that's all I need right now, cause that would be a lot of presents."

At this point I experienced my first "lahury", which I have coined as an abbreviation for any time you simultaneously want to laugh, give someone a hug, and cry. She was so serious and so adorable.

I could try to make some larger point here about remembering what Christmas is truly about, about remembering to ask for only what we need, about counting our blessings no matter how tiny.

Instead I'm going to count my own tiny blessing and give my daughter a gigantic hug while she asks, "Daddy, why are you hugging me?"

Because Natalie.

Just Because.

She Says

2010-11-02T10:06:00.003-04:00

Dada, you really need to get to work

So I realize this blog is becoming nothing more than the occasional Natalie Quote but it is all going to come together when I write the new bestseller "Ca*a My Daughter Says" ...

Anyway, I am wearing latex gloves twice a day...

What? Do you need an explanation as to why I am wearing Latex gloves twice a day? I can't just drop that at the start of a blog and move on...

Fine.

I wear them in an attempt to finally rid myself of an annoying rash on my hands that has lingered for over six months and made the skin on my palms resemble my high-school baseball glove. The rash is a result of one of the medications I take for Crohn's. It is awesome. Sara has taken to calling me Lizard Man, which would be cool if I had Lizard like super-powers or a tail I could whack her with when she calls me "Lizard Man" and not just leathery hands that make me feel self-conscious.

Anyway, I've begun various drastic actions to try to alleviate the rash, including slopping on a bunch of Aquaphor and putting my hands in latex gloves for an hour while I do my morning chores.

The other day Natalie sat gleefully finishing her breakfast and she noticed I was wearing the gloves when I came upstairs. She paused and looked thoughtfully at my gloved hands. I expected a "Daddy, why are you wearing those gloves?" followed by a long string of why's that would eventually end when I collapsed from exhaustion.

Instead she said:

"Oh Daddy! I like those gloves. They are fancy"

I smiled. Sara keeled over laughing and once again we were reminded about the importance of perspective. Life didn't seem such a trial. Now, every morning and evening when I put on my gloves I smile and get to work, looking fancier than ever.

She Says

2010-09-23T19:59:00.002-04:00

I'm a princess...no, seriously, I am...

I promise a first day of school blog in the coming days but until then a few from the, "Did she really just say that? department"

1. While outside swinging this evening, I discussed the day with Natalie:

Me: So did you have circle time at school today Natalie?

Natalie: Yes we did!

Me: What did you talk about at circle time?

Natalie: The weather.

Me: Oh, that's nice, anything else?

Natalie: (pause to think deeply about the question).. Other serious things...

I'm not sure if I should inform other parents that their children are sitting around at circle-time talking about weather, what little Joey had for dinner last night, and "other serious things".

2. Before dinner Natalie told Sara that her tushy was hurting. This generally means that she has some dry skin on her cheeks, so Sara dutifully applied a little Aquaphor, after which Natalie remarked:

"Mama, I like how you did that."

Sara was gratified to know that she is able to apply lotion to a dry tushy in a satisfactory manner.

3. At dinner this evening we were enjoying a lovely meal (I am the chef and I say it was lovely) when Natalie began to explain what her doll, which she now is calling "Baby Roo" after watching Piglet's Big Movie on Friday had for HER dinner, which had apparently occurred earlier that evening. Natalie proceeded to list everything we had eaten the previous three nights (from Sushi to re-fried beans) at which point Sara exclaimed "Wow, Baby Roo, is a big eater!" and Natalie responded:

"Yeah, and last but not least she had some salt and pepper to go on her lovely meal."

Sara and I promptly burst out laughing and Natalie joined in, having no idea why we were giggling.

Natalie always has a way of spicing up our evenings.

She Says

2010-09-07T21:02:00.003-04:00

Getting ready to clear the room...

Recent conversation with Natalie:

Loud thbbbbbttttt noise

Natalie: Oh, excuse me!
Me: You are excused (resisting desire to smile)
Natalie: Dada, I tooted!
Me: Um, yes, you did. (barely holding in a chuckle)
Natalie: Do you know why I tooted?
Me: No, Natalie, why? (rapt with anticipation)
Natalie: Because something was tickling my tushy!
Me: I see... (excusing myself while I go to the next room and burst out laughing)

A Recipe for Soup

2010-09-06T08:09:00.002-04:00

mmm, mmmm,..yehck!

Last night, while in the bath, Natalie asked Sara to tell a story. This is a favorite recent activity; having mommy or daddy make up a story, usually centered on our heroine who calls herself Emily, her friend Little Bear, and Lucy, her doll. Anyone who has read the Little Bear books will immediately recognize the cast...

Anyway, the main thrust of this particular vignette was that our heroes needed to make a soup. The reasons why they needed to make said soup were vague but a good storyteller lets the reader fill in unimportant plot details like motive...

So for those of you looking for a lovely Autumnal recipe I suggest "Emily's, Little Bear's and Lucy's Acorn Soup"

Add to large pot (which you shall never use again):

The ingredients are Natalie's, the notes are mine...

- 3 Spoonfuls of Mayonnaise (one may substitute Vegannaise if one is a hippie like Mama)
- 2 Cookies (preferably Chocolate Chip or Sugar but any cookie will do in a pinch)
- 3 cups Flour
- "A lot of Acorns" (Natalie explained "a lot" means 10)
- Chocolate, 1 Bar

Then Cook "A lot" and if your house isn't on fire or the neighbors haven't shown up to ask about the smell, enjoy...

She Says

2010-05-19T16:49:00.002-04:00

Natalie poses on her "big-girl" bed.

Natalie has a little Sesame Street book called "Be Polite" and, as you may have gleamed from the previous blog post, Natalie enjoys reading books on the potty. So today while she climbed onto her potty-seat she asked very brightly, in her two-year-old broken syntax way, "Dada, Can I Be Polite, pleeeeaaase?!"

I smiled and got the book.

She Says

2010-04-11T20:09:00.002-04:00

Natalie Marcia Says:

"Books are friends for while your on the potty."

Trouble Brewing

2009-05-25T14:54:00.009-04:00

"I just love getting Dada in trouble!"

As has been previously discussed at length, my daughter is a super-baby genius, or perhaps now she would be better described as a super-toddler-genius, which in super-genius terms is a whole new level of geniuosity. She inhales words for breakfast, digests meaning for lunch, and then by dinner is ready to have a lengthy discussion about what she learned that day. This discussion usually involves her singing loudly at the table while we eat.

Her hunger for knowledge is unquenchable, and so, rather than let her exert extra energy in negative ways, like by chasing the cat, or making a mess, or plotting to overthrow the world, I divert her curiosity into learning new words, phrases, and long Wordsworth poems.

To be sure it is an exhausting and heroic task, one that often involves repeating new words 2,320 times before Natalie is satisfied that she can pronounce it properly, and which turns my brain into a lumpy mush by the time Sara returns home from work.

I generally enjoy this noble and necessary job of protecting humanity from a potentially lethal super-toddler genius but there are times when my efforts to teach Natalie about her surroundings backfire.

Witness a week or so ago.

Natalie and I were busy shopping for a small gathering at our house over Memorial day weekend. We busied ourselves with procuring all the necessary list items, Natalie gleefully chirping out directions for what I should buy from the shopping cart. Luckily for our guests I managed to sneak in something other than goldfish crackers, cheese, and cheerios.

Natalie remarked upon all the various vegetables and fruits we bought and yelled "Hiii!" to anyone who passed. There were innumerable, "Hiii, Ladies" and "Hiii, Mans" and most of the time she correctly guessed the person's gender...

We began to checkout, and I placed our veritable cornucopia of food on the belt and waited for, as Natalie would call her, the "Checkout lady." However, at this precise moment Natalie was not at all concerned with the "Checkout lady", no something much more interesting beckoned her eye from the conveyor belt.

Of all the many things that sat on the rubbery surface, of all the things she could have remarked upon, she began, quite near the top of her lungs,

"BEEEEEER, That's BEEEEEER" pointing to a case of brew.

"Yes, Natalie." I said rather sheepishly. But she continued...

"BEEEEEER, BEEEEER, that's Dada's BEEEER."

At this point I blushed and tried to point out a much more interesting and less embarrassing box of Cheerios. She wanted nothing to do with it.

"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER! Dada drinks BEEEEEEER." The checkout lady was laughing, the woman behind me chuckled, "I guess she knows what that is!", but I knew somewhere a child-services worker was lurking, or at least taking notes.

I hustled Natalie to the car, sped home, unpacked the groceries and while Natalie played in her pretend kitchen, cracked open a cold one.

"BEEEEEER" I said. "That's BEEEEEER."

Hey, I deserved it.

Editors Note: If any child-services workers are reading this blog, please know I didn't actually drink a beer until my wife got home...then I had five.

Impersonationable

2009-04-14T12:57:00.011-04:00

Natalie does her best "Dada" impression.

When I was young I would set up a tape recorder and practice mimicking various voices and characters...what you didn't? Before you judge me, I lived in NH, where there was nothing to do for miles but read books (totally uninterested in reading for pleasure at the time) or push cows (interested but rather terrified).

I thought impressions might be my path to fame and fortune. I could be the next Dana Carvey or Rich Little or at least get people to laugh. I gave it up when I realized high-school girls were not particularly impressed by a guy who could do a great pirate impression.

Who knew?

Recently, however, my vocal manipulations have been in high demand by a cuter and wiser little girl. When Natalie was little (littler I suppose) I often read her books and used different voices for the various characters. She enjoyed it, smiling when I took on the voice of a big grumpy troll or when I decided a particular character should speak with a British accent. Now that she's a more sophisticated communicator, she not only enjoys my little voice tricks but demands them.

Recent conversations have gone like this:

"Dada Cookie Monster."

I ignore her and continue to wash dishes (what else would I be doing)

"Dada Cookie Monster? DADA COOKIE MONSTER!!!"

"Oh, me like cookie" (in my best cookie monster voice)

"Dada Grover. DADA GROVER!"

"Hello Natalie" (As Grover)

"Dada, Grandpa Al."

And here's where my talent runs out. I apologize to my plaintive princess that I can't do a "Grandpa Al" impression. But this is my little daughter, so I've been working on my Grandpa Al, Momma, and Barack Obama impressions (yes Natalie recognizes our president on TV and shouts OBAMA! every time she sees him, recently declaring "Silly Obama", with which her fiscally conservative mother agreed.)

All these voices have me a little turned around so don't be surprised if the next time you see me I'm in the middle of a identity crisis and greet you in a cookie monster voice or shake your hand and say nothing but "ARGHHH! Matey!"

Random notes:

1. Recently Natalie declared that "Sometimes people eat turtles" and then "Sometime turtles eat people." Since she is never wrong, be careful with all future turtle relations.

2. Natalie told me a few days ago "Grandpa Lee Yuk", "Gram Yuk". At first I was worried she was claiming that her grandfather and great-grandmother were both yucky but I soon realized she was explaining that they were both from New York...

3. Natalie loves to sing the wheels on the bus, or rather she loves for me to sing it while she declares what is on the bus. She refuses to stick to the general script of wipers, wheels, and bus implements and focuses mainly on animals and people she knows. I am forced to decide what the Grandpa Lee, Aunt Bryn, and Cookie Monster on the bus say. So if you want a say in what YOU say, let me know.

And if ya don't know...

2009-03-19T12:41:00.014-04:00

This is how we roll

It has been a long time since I've truly updated this blog. If I were to attempt to document all the accomplishments of my super-baby-genius since then, I would fail miserably. So what follows is a random assortment of some things Natalie and I thought you should know...

Some of Natalie's most interesting phrases:

"Yankees Yuk, Grandpa Lee! and Go Red Sox, Grandpa Lee!" Just because it is obvious doesn't make it any less genius. Take note Grandpa Lee, lest you wind up on the wrong side of geniosity.

"Broccoli, broccoli, OOOOOOOOO Cookie Monster" Natalie announced this at the dinner table the other night while pawing through her broccoli. We're not quite sure what it meant but I believe she was trying some sort of wizardry on her Broccoli in hopes of turning it into a cookie. If she had succeeded, we could have sold her services to grumpy Broccoli eaters everywhere...alas, it failed.

"Mama Trash. Dada Trash": Either this was her first insult or she was trying to express that only Mama and Dada can touch the trash.

Some interesting developments:

Fear Factor: Natalie has developed a fear of certain stuffed animals. If we even discuss one of the offending beasts, she shakes and clings to the nearest adult. The problem is we never know which stuffed animal might illicit this response, so we'll innocently pull out a former favorite toy, only to watch her breakdown. Apparently these type of unexplained fears are normal for her age, so when she suddenly begins to stress about a certain stuffed friend we stick him in the office closet. I have yet to find a link between the stuffed animals she fears and those she doesn't, though I am beginning to expect those that frighten her are demonically possessed, which is why I haven't spent much time in my office lately.

ABC's: Natalie knows a good deal of her letters, and enjoys singing the ABC song. She cruises through A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-J, inserts another B for K, and then belts out M,M,M,M...Q. Which is either an indication that she doesn't knows those letters, or enjoys eating Qs.

Sing-Along: Natalie loves to sing other songs as well. Her repertoire is wide and eclectic. For instance she can sing "Where is pinky?" and then immediately break into a verse of "Too Hot" (Don't ask how she learned this song). Sure she mumbles some words, skips others, and invents a bunch, but I dare you to find something cuter than a toddler learning to sing.

Potty Training: No she is not trained yet. Please don't ask me again.

That's all for now, I am going to go burn those demonically possessed stuffed animals.

Return of the Blog!

2009-02-19T14:14:00.005-05:00

"Look, it's a bird, it's a plane...oh no...it's Daddy's stupid blog"

Cue the dramatic announcer guy:

"This spring, just when you thought it was safe to surf the web, comes the return of the web's most poop-humor filled blog. Find out what happens when a father tries to potty train his little girl, discover just how demanding a two-year can be, and sing-along with the countless inane songs. This time they're will be no editing witch meens you may find a few mis stakes... but join as we embark on another epic or at least slightly entertaining journey."

Death of the Blog, Blog...

2008-11-19T12:20:00.004-05:00

Alas, my blog is dying

Perhaps death isn't the right word. "Extended suspension", "Possible complete destruction", or "This blog is to continued entries as Sarah Palin is to continued political career" might be more fitting.

I'm currently working on a larger piece of fiction, leaving me little time to update the blog. I hope to bring the blog back to life, should I give up on this other writing project, finish it, or miraculously discover a 36 hour day.

Rest assured, Natalie is getting cuter and I am getting older and don't lose hope...if Sarah Palin can return in 2012...so can I...

Blog out.

Burning the 8:30 Oil...

2008-10-01T12:02:00.006-04:00

"You Sir, are old!"

One of my best friends turns thirty this month, yet I feel like we're still in high school together (and Sara would say when my friend and I are together we act like it) but there is a larger part of me (and I am not talking about my expanding waistline) that feels really,
really
old.

For example, the Red Sox have once again made the playoffs but there was no way in hell I was staying up to watch the entire first game against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, who not only will lose the series to my beloved Red Sox, but also have a terribly long and stupid name. The game started at 10pm, which ten years ago would have been an optimal time to have my first Mountain Dew of the evening but which is currently an optimal time to have my first Tylenol PM.

How did this happen? I blame Natalie.

Before Natalie or B.N., which sounds disturbingly like B.M. so I won't use it again, I was still a night owl. I would stay up till midnight doing important things like writing poems, surfing the Internet, and watching South Park re-runs. Now if I'm up at midnight it is to put Natalie back to sleep before crumpling back into bed myself.

There are other signs that my age is catching up with me:

1. I ache for no apparent reason especially when it is cold.

2. I look forward to going to the grocery store.

3. I drink Green Tea.

4. I haven't played a video game in over six months.

5. I turned on the TV weeks ago and had no idea who was pitching for the Red Sox.

6. I think about my cholesterol more than once every year.

7. I have a retirement plan.

8. Cashiers card me at the grocery store but always have a smile that says, "I know you are over 21 but I have to do this anyway you old-fart."

It's disheartening. Luckily every time I start feeling especially old, I get to see the world through Natalie's adorable little eyes, as she discovers some new truth about the world like gravity, running is harder to do than walking, or that the Red Sox are awesome.

I'm going to get us both a couple Mountain Dews and hunker down in front of the TV for game two tonight, unless of course I pass out before it starts...

A long time coming...

2008-09-06T20:37:00.022-04:00

Natalie does her best impression of a fish

This blog has unfortunately become a monthly highlight show, breaking down Natalie's many accomplishments and my many blunders with little attention to detail. Before I get to Natalie's new and amazing talents I'll list my excuses.

A. Natalie has been busy testing her "Random Tantrum Reactionary Theory." The Random Tantrum Reactionary Theory or "RT-RT" states that one should throw tantrums at random times for no reason to discover how adults will react. Natalie tested this theory for two weeks around her birthday but has since lowered her testing rate. I'm suspicious, however, that she is simply analyzing her results...

B. She has also been testing the "Night-time Screaming Effects Theory." The Night-time Screaming Effects Theory or "N-SET" states that a baby should test just how many times a mommy and daddy will enter said baby's room at night if that baby screams really loud. "N-Set" also looks at the effects on Mommies and Daddies the next day.

C. We traveled to upstate NY. Keep in mind parts of Upstate NY exist in a time warp where high-speed Internet is non-existent, people think Jimmy Carter is president, and the number of cows are only outnumbered by the number of cow-patties.

Ultimately my best excuse is that I have been running-wild taking care of a little girl who is extremely busy at life. Changing and evolving every day. Here are some of her more notable recent achievements:

1. Walk around the Clock: For a long time when people asked if Natalie was walking yet, we'd respond with a vague answer like "She takes steps" or "Kind of" or "Look, she is a super-baby genius and just because she isn't walking yet doesn't mean she isn't a super-baby genius, so back off buster!" But now Natalie is officially a walking baby, toddling around the house at drunken speeds.

2. Word Explosion: Natalie has learned a ton of new words, most of which she doesn't pronounce quite right. She says "Mama", "Dada", "Hat", "Eye", "Guck"(Duck), "Bup" (Cup), "Cah" (Car...which she pahks in havahd yahd), "Ha" (Hi), "Raap" (Rope), "hum" (home), and several more.

3. Non-word Explosion: Natalie has not only learned official "dictionary words" but some unofficial words as well. As a poet, I fully support unofficial words. She has learned that dogs say, "woof, woof" and when she hears a dog in the distance, she barks along. She knows that monkeys say "Ah-Ah-Ah.", kitties say "houuum" (her odd version of meow), and she knows that Sarah Palin says nothing nice, so shouldn't say anything at all.

4. A Dad's proudest moment yet: In Natalie's first year of life, I've enjoyed many memorable events, from her first babble, to her first word, to her first step. But without a doubt my most hubris inspiring moment to date is teaching Natalie to say "Bawp" every time someone burps. It is undeniably adorable and, as a bonus, undeniably gets under Sara's skin.

5. Command Center: If it wasn't already clear who is in charge around here, Natalie can now follow my simple commands like "Bring me the book" or "Bring me a beer." She joins the dog in her strict obedience, now I just need to work on her mother...

6. Huggie!: In her cutest development to date, Natalie offers hugs on demand and also out of the blue. Nothing brightens an otherwise dull day like a hug from an adorable super-baby-genius.

7. Goo-Goo for Gaa-Gaa: Up until recently Natalie had not become attached to any one toy. She had favorites, but would often grow weary of even her most beloved play-things. That is until "Ga-Ga" came along. "Ga-Ga" was a gift from her aunt Allison, a squishy baby-doll with bright blue-eyes, who Natalie instantly dubbed "Ga-Ga." Now we just mention Ga-Ga's name and Natalie lights-up with excitement. She is very fond of giving Ga-Ga hugs teeters around the house with Ga-Ga in tow.

8. Eye of the Tiger: As mentioned above, Natalie has learned to say the word "Eye" and lately it's her very favorite word to say. This would be fine except for the fact that she likes to forcefully point out the words she says, regularly jabbing a pudgy little finger in the direction of our optical nerves. Sara and I have recently invested in some protective eye-wear.

There's so much more but Natalie is apparently testing "SBNOIWTAHT" or "Stop blogging now or I will throw a hissy-fit theory"

I better get my goggles...

Natalie version 11.0

2008-07-16T10:40:00.017-04:00

How is she already 11 months old?!

Natalie is less than a month away from her first birthday (gulp!). This time last year we were scrambling to get her nursery ready, trying to keep Sara cool, and trying to keep me from passing out.

Now, we're blessed with a little girl who keeps getting better right before our eyes. It's like watching the stock market...only the opposite.

Once again my ability to keep up with a super-baby-genius's development has been hampered by the super-baby-genius herself. No doubt some part of her elaborate plan to take over the world and turn it into one giant Cheerio....

Anyway, some recent developments...

Step by Step: Months ago, before she started crawling, I believed Natalie would walk first. She wore us out with constant demands to be walked around the house and temper-tantrums when she wasn't walking. When she figured out how to crawl, however, walking took a back seat as she explored her world from the ground level. But walking would not wait forever.

Last Thursday Natalie took her first extremely wobbly steps. Her gate reminded me of any given fraternity brother's on Saturday nights at Hamilton, giving further credence to my theory that Natalie is a Fraternity Brother...

I reacted slightly differently than I did in college, rather than turn my head in disgust, I picked Natalie up and bear hugged her, adding plenty of zerberts...I don't think the Fraternity brother would have giggled...though I may be wrong.

HA! Is it me you're looking for?: Natalie's tiny little vocal cords are unfortunately lagging behind her tiny little super-awesome-baby-genius-of-glory brain. In trying to teach her how to wave she not only learned to wag her little hand, she also learned to say Hi...except she can't yet pronounce the "I" sound, so it comes out Ha! A few people were offended the other day when we passed them in the grocery store and Natalie frantically waved them down exclaiming "Ha! Ha!...HAAAA!"

Signs, Signs, everywhere there's Signs: Natalie is also working on her sign-language skills. She is now able to make the sign for "light." I also suspect some of her other seemingly innocuous hand movements may actually be a secret code for the dog in an effort to form an alliance and overthrow the keepers of the food.

It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time: She may not be referring to a dancing and singing banana but she does now say "Nana." Unfortunately she doesn't eat her "Nana" as enthusiastically as she says the word.

Speed Demon: When Natalie first began to crawl she moved at the speed the word suggests but recently she has improved her forty-time (forty inches that is) dramatically. She also has begun to enjoy chasing Daddy around the house, which has given daddy the opportunity to improve his own shoddy conditioning.

Share...Share...Share...: Most children have a hard time learning how to share. Greedily hoarding stuff is of course one of Man's many flaws. However, since Natalie has no flaws she has already begun to share. She takes great joy in giving mommy and daddy her toys, her half-eaten watermelon, or the piece of fuzz she finds on the floor. Skeptics might suggest that this phase will soon end and she'll start hoarding as much stuff as possible, which will result in my discovery of a massive half-eaten-watermelon-and-fuzz ball under her bed.

Funny-Bone: There is no other way to put it...Natalie is a goof-ball. She revels in silly games including but not limited to, "What does stuff look like upside down", "What can we find in Daddy's belly-button", "Zerbert War", "Shaky-haired Mommy", "Hey look there's something over there" and "Copy-cat". She finds all of these games uproariously funny and enjoys making Mommy and Daddy laugh. She may have a future in stand-up...or the white house.

Read to me...now!: While Natalie is ahead of the curve on sharing, her patience with my inability to instantly meet all her needs and wants is lacking. The best example of this impatience is perhaps her constant and unwavering desire to read books. She will pull a book from her toy box or point to one on the shelf and at first she will politely point to daddy and then back to the book. If, however, daddy doesn't do as he's told or if he isn't paying attention, she will move on to phase two...tossing the book directly at daddy's face.

Usually this gets daddy's attention.

I'm comforted by the fact that she is demanding to be read to instead of demanding more TV. I'm also adept at dealing with being punished for not meeting demand protocol, having been married now for six years...

Independence Declaration

2008-07-11T18:33:00.006-04:00

Natalie celebrates her independence with a fistful of Cheerios

Last week the nation celebrated its independence with copious amounts of fireworks, beer, and tiny little flags. Natalie, though scared of the fireworks and not yet allowed to drink the beer, fully appreciated why so many people were partying. She herself is beginning to understand the joy of self-reliance.

She may be 16 years away from driving, 18 years away from college, and 30 years away from her first date but she has already started to let mommy and daddy know that their assistance and constant attention is not always needed or desired.

Her independent streak is both a relief and a burden. She may no longer need mommy and daddy to rescue her if she accidentally rolls onto her tummy or a toy slips away but she also wanders willingly and purposefully, usually directly into mischief.

Here are some of the ways Natalie is establishing her independence:

Mobile Unit:

If ever there was an event that defines the phrase "A blessing and a curse" it is when a baby becomes mobile. Initially parents breath a sigh of relief...their child can do more than flop around on the floor and scream when she can't get to her desired destination. It's magical to watch a child discover her world, strike out on new adventures, and delve into the mysteries of everything from what lies beneath the couch to what lies inside the trash.

And there's the rub.

For every new ability their is a price. When Natalie could do no more than roll and squirm, I could put her down and grab a cup of coffee knowing the worst possible outcome was a grumpy baby. Now, by the time I make my coffee the cat could have lost half his hair, the plant could be upended, and Natalie could be experimenting with knife juggling.

Despite the need for more vigilance and fewer knives, the blessings of mobility far outweigh the curses. Every time Natalie purposefully crawls over for a snuggle or a zerbert I forget that I may not be allowed to pee for another six hours.

Stop Feeding me Seymour!:

Natalie has been eating finger foods for months but only recently did she decide to feed herself. She's never had a problem stuffing her face full of dog hair, grass, or the stray toe-nail but when she sat down to eat actual food she displayed no interest in picking up all the various goodies we put in front of her, most of which had more nutritional value than toe-nails. Perhaps it was a bit of the princess in her wanting to be hand-fed or perhaps she just wasn't getting the connection but two weeks ago something clicked and now she shovels food in with glee and vigor. Unfortunately, this has also renewed her interest in every tiny morsel, edible or not, that she finds on the ground.

Play Time:

Much of my day is spent entertaining Natalie. I sing silly songs, I read silly books, I dance around in wholly non-silly ways and we generally have a good time together. Although she has yet to stop introducing me to her friends or say things like "Dad, please, for the love of god don't embarrass me by dancing in wholly non-silly ways in front of Susan", she has begun to clearly show that Daddy is not always needed.

I can hand her a measuring cup or wooden spoon and she will entertain herself for fifteen minutes by simply banging it around and seeing what it can do. Overall this has been a huge benefit since it allows me to watch her while still accomplishing something, though it is a bit of a blow to my ego.

Perhaps I should work on my wholly non-silly dance moves.

Mischief Maker:

I wouldn't call Natalie defiant but she certainly has no problem wading into mischief. Thankfully the word "no" is starting to have some impact on her actions, even if that impact is only to get her to look at us with a vicious smile. We are in the process of teaching her limits so she no longer heads directly for knife juggling when daddy turns his back but she is either a bit of an imp, simply testing the boundaries and our resolve to keep them, or just not getting it yet.

The most interesting activities are inevitably those which we are trying to discourage and when she is redirected elsewhere it often results in a little mini-fit of arm flapping and screeching before she settles on some new and equally bad thing to accomplish. I think this natural propensity for mischief clearly stems from her mother's side...

Natalie's growth over the past few months has been astonishing. She went from cute little lump to adventurous imp within months. As she continues to assert her independence, we will be there watching, smiling, and hiding the knives.

Say Anything!

2008-06-25T21:44:00.009-04:00

Find out who or what won the "Be Natalie's First Word Contest"

Every parent anxiously awaits their child's first word. It's like waiting for a surprise present, never knowing when it will arrive.

For months I'd been hoping Natalie's adorable little babbles would turn into adorable little words. Even at four months I got excited when she babbled "Ma-ma" in the middle of the night. Both because I naively thought she might be an even bigger super-genius-baby than already forecast, and because it was "Ma-ma" she was calling for in the middle of the night. But that, and many other babbles, were really just incoherent baby jargon, or since she is a super-genius, a new language altogether.

Recently, however, she was clearly on the verge of putting it together. Babbling more structured sounds and pointing to things before making her exclamations. For example, she rambled "Dada" several times in succession rather than a long "Dadadadadada." Of course, she was screaming "Dada!" while looking at the cat but the tools were in place.

Then, while we were in Washington D.C., it happened. I can't point to a specific instance, but Sara and I slowly came to the realization that she was linking the specific word with the specific object.

So what was her magical first word?

Let's break down the contenders before we reveal the answer:

Dada:

Why Dada could be her first word: I spend all day with her and make it a point to get happy and jump around when she says "Dada." This happy-jumping, it should be noted, looks totally tough and not at all lame...Plus after 3,204,402 diapers, she owes me.

Why Dada wouldn't be her first word: She likes to babble the sound a lot and uses it to describe various things like the dog, diapers, and the milkman...

Mama:

Why Mama could be her first word: Every day when Sara gets home we get excited and say "Mama's home!" Plus after putting up with daddy complaining about 3,204,402 diaper changes, Sara deserved it.

Why Mama wouldn't be her first word: Linguists claim "Dada" is the easier sound to make and most babies, to the dismay of moms everywhere, say Dada first. Plus dads are just so much cooler...

Doggie or Kitty:

Why Doggie or Kitty could be her first word: She loves Doggie and Kitty. She laughs at them, pulls their hair, and climbs all over them.

Why Doggie or Kitty wouldn't be her first word: While she makes the sounds necessary for Doggie, she really doesn't make the G sound as much as she used to and she hasn't developed the capacity for "Ki" or "Tee" yet, though she does sometimes screech eee-eee, which is pretty close.

Red Sox:

Why Red Sox could be her first word: From the time she was a tiny-peanut, incapable of vocalizing anything but wails and cries, (which she did manage to vocalize often) she's heard Red Sox games on TV.

Why Red Sox wouldn't be her first word: Like most Red Sox fans she may want to perfect her "Yankees Suck" chant first.

So, what was her first word? To the delight of her mother, and despite a bit of an ego blow, her father, "Mama"

She now readily points to Sara and yells "Mama!" She has also learned that the door opening every afternoon signals "Mama's" return, turning to me recently with a look of glee when it happened and squealing, "Mamaaaaa!"

Quickly after mastering her first word Natalie, like an baby super-genius, conquered her second.

"Hat."

Yes..."Hat"

Why "hat" you ask? Natalie has been obsessed with my grungy old Red Sox hat since she was able to hold it. She says the word when she sees any baseball cap, though she doesn't yet understand other styles of caps are "hats." She did point to the TV screen recently, look at Randy Johnson who was pitching, and yell "hat." She then followed with, "And my isn't he an attractive young gentlemen."

She is getting close to saying Dada consistently but still can't get the phonetic distinction between "Dada" and "Doggie."

I'm not too worried, I'm just happy she is saying something and lighting up our eyes and hearts every time she does. I may have to wait a few months for "Dada" and a few more for "Yankees Suck" but I'm quite content to listen to her melodious experimentation until then.

Natalie Version 10.0

2008-06-12T10:02:00.005-04:00

Natalie laughs at my attempts to chronicle her development.

Natalie continues to grow and change on a daily basis and my weekly blog entries aren't nearly enough to keep up with her development. So once again I offer a concise top ten list of Natalie's most recent improvements.

Top Ten Natalie Developments

10. Big Chomper meet Little Chompette: Natalie's second tooth has arrived and is currently half the size of Big Chomper (the name of her first tooth). It's rather adorable when she smiles and reveals two oddly sized teeth.

9. Two words...Fan, Doggy: We are teaching Natalie baby sign language. My mother bought a whole big kit of baby sign stuff, which I believe is called "If you're grand-baby can't sign, she's a dope." I thought it was a clever marketing tool.

Anyway, Natalie has learned two signs. "Doggy", which is not surprising because she is obsessed with the dog. And Fan, a sign we had to make up since most babies are apparently not obsessed with ceiling fans...

8. By her bootstraps: Natalie is now able to pull herself to a stand using virtually anything. This includes Daddy, the couch, and a very reluctant doggy.

7. Deep Sleep: Gone are the nights of three or four wake-ups. Natalie generally sleeps through the night with only the occasional cry, which is usually calmed with a few minutes of holding or shushing. Daddy has sold his stock in Maxwell House.

6. Walk...me...NOW!!: Natalie takes great joy in walking around the house, while holding on to our hands. This would be tolerable, except she is so short that we have to hunch over to hold her hands. Sara and I are beginning to resemble Quasimodo, since Natalie wants to be walked all the time. She is quite demanding. I would never imply that, in this respect, she is like her mother. That would be dumb.

5. Book it: Natalie loves books. I'm thrilled and sure she will soon be a literary genius...this development has also allowed me to memorize several children's books. If you are ever in a bind and can't remember the words to "Quick as a Cricket"... give me a call.

4. Return of the Jedi...cream: As detailed in a recent blog, Natalie has been battling Eczema for much of her little baby life. We recently took her to the doctor and he prescribed a cream that contained much more force. Natalie's Eczema is getting better.

3. Capitol Crowd: We recently took a trip to Washington for a usability conference at which Sara was presenting. I also presented at the nearby Tag-a-long Dad conference...

While in DC, Natalie charmed Sara's family in the area and several college friends. Her influence on the world is spreading. She also sat down with Barack Obama and John McCain to discuss her forthcoming endorsement.

2. Ready, set, catch: Giving more credibility to my plan that she will be the first female Red Sox player, I have taught Natalie how to catch a ball. Well, maybe she simply holds her arms out and the ball sometimes settles neatly into her pudgy little hands...but it's close enough for me!

1. Light-Crawler: Natalie is officially mobile. She began crawling about a week or two ago and is slowly perfecting the art. It's fantastic and utterly terrifying to watch her grow. Her mobility adds an extra challenge to daddy's day as he is now on constant "oh my god, what if she did (insert horrible thing here) when your back was turned." watch.

As I've written this blog several new developments have emerged...Stay tuned for a major Blog announcement soon...

Point/Counterpoint...Point...Point...Point...

2008-06-10T11:37:00.006-04:00

Natalie sits contentedly after a long day of finger-pointing

Here's a transcript from a recent interaction between Natalie and I:

Natalie sits on the living room floor. She looks out the window, points indiscriminately, and exclaims, "Ga!"

"Yes, that's a tree Natalie." I respond like the dutiful and magnificent father I am.

Shifting her focus, Natalie points to a painting on the wall. "Ga!"

"That, my love, is a painting."

Another shift, "Ga!"

"That is a plant. It's like a tree but smaller."

"Ga!"

"Once again, sweet-pea, that's a tree."

"Ga!"

"Yes, you've found the painting again."

"GAAAAAA!"

"That is a different painting. How very exciting..."

"Ga!"

"A plant."

"Ga! Ga! GAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

"OK. Yes. A bloody freaking tree again. Isn't it lovely in all its tree-ness."

This continues for another fifteen minutes, at which point I put the dog in charge.

Natalie has obviously discovered the joy of pointing. She wakes up from a nap and immediately points to one of her wall hangings. She gets her diaper changed and points, wildly flailing her arms as I try to describe what her little finger has found, while not getting poop on my own fingers.

What's interesting and simultaneously coma-inducing is that she really enjoys pointing out the same things over and over again. Some of her favorites are trees, paintings, ceiling fans, books, the dog, and the fact that Hillary Clinton lost.

I have no idea why these particular items have captured her attention but I do know that both Sara and I are running out of things to say about trees. I'm seriously considering hiring an Arborist for a day.

I've also tried strategically placing certain items nearby in the hopes that she would point to them and I could give diatribes about more interesting things like the Red Sox, The Lord of the Rings, or the rise of performance poetry...all of which I'm sure she would find extremely entertaining...

There will come a time when we teach Natalie that pointing isn't polite but right now pointing is one of the main tools she uses to learn about her world. Tiny little finger reaching out, asking what we know of the world, integrating this knowledge into her expanding universe...

I just hope her interest expands beyond trees sometime soon...

Lions and Tigers and Moms...Oh My!

2008-06-05T16:26:00.006-04:00

Natalie gets ready for her big adventure!

Last week I took Natalie to the zoo. She has been fascinated by four legged creatures ever since she was old enough to observe them, laughing hysterically when she first noticed our pets Fenway and Bruce and screaming with glee when she first met our horse, TJ. The zoo felt like a natural first big outing together.

She loved it! For several hours last Friday the zoo gained a new animal, "The Screeching Baby." Natalie squealed and squawked while gesticulating madly in her front-carrier and in my arms. She was most enamored with the prairie dogs, the pronghorns, and the water fountain. Each of which she would have been happy to observe for hours on end.

The trip was fantastic. Some, however, are calling for a permanent revocation of my "man-card". You see, I didn't travel to the zoo on my own...I went with a...um...Mom's group.

Before I lose possession of that valuable card, which entitles me to limitless belches, fart jokes, greasy food, and crotch grabs, I'd like to make a few points.

1. I'm used to being surrounded by women.

I'd like to claim that my female surroundings in college were due to my rugged good looks, my way with words, or my musical prowess on what friends called my "weepy-guitar" (Seriously just ask Sara about that romantic classic "Ear-wax Girl" or our friend Sara Hesse about the heart-felt ballad I wrote when she went abroad to Ghana titled, "You've Gone to Ghana...Rhea") but the truth is a little less flattering. I majored in Sociology, which was a subject dominated by women. I was the only man in four years at Hamilton elected to the Volunteer committee's Executive Board. I started to pledge Beta-Data-Mana before I realized it was a sorority...OK I made that one up but you get the point. In college I spent a lot of time around women.

I graduated and worked at a non-profit as one of the few men in the office. I obtained my MFA in creative writing, where women easily outnumbered men. I worked as the only man at a day-care center while getting my degree. I coached girl's basketball and softball and lived in a girl's dorm at St. Mark's school in Massachusetts.

So, while I'd gladly have joined a father's group, where stay-at-home dad's get together, plop their little-ones on a blanket, drink, play video games, and eat pizza...they don't exist. At least in Oxford, CT. And, I suppose, might not be as productive for the kids...

Women still dominate the field of stay-at-home parents and once again I'm in a familiar position. My "colleagues" are everyone else's better-halves.

2. I needed to get out more.

Sara had been politely suggesting for months that I join a stay-at-home parenting group. In deference to my maleness, she never said 'mom's group.' But she finally started sending me links to local groups, with names like "Mothers of Central CT", "Mommy and Me", and "The League of Super-Amazing Moms".

She knew what I knew, that living in the middle of no-where CT, with friends and family spread across the country, I needed to find ways to get out and do stuff. And, perhaps more importantly, Natalie needed to get out and do stuff with other kids. There are only so many times she can stomach me reading Dr. Seuss's ABCs, which by the way I've memorized and plan on performing as a one man show...

I e-mailed one of the groups to find out more. I discovered they were willing to accept someone with only one X chromosome and were taking a trip to the Zoo. I signed up.

Natalie not only had a blast screaming DADADADA at the goat kids, she also loved watching the human kids. It's ultimately healthy and productive for her to see faces other than mommy's and daddy's on a regular basis. I enjoyed having people my own age to talk and relate with even if none of them belched, made a fart joke, or ate pizza...

3. So What?

It's not 1950. I don't come home, have a drink, smoke a cigar, and retire to my office. I'm a father who's spending time at home with his daughter because because Sara and I want someone we trust with our little-girl in her early years. Plus Sara is ten times smarter than me and can make more money.

I don't mind doing "un-manly" things like laundry, cooking, and talking to my daughter in an odd high-pitched voice that makes me sound like Bobby from Bobby's world.

And I don't mind joining a mom's group. In fact I'm glad I did it. Natalie and I had fun at the zoo and I look forward to future outings with the group.

My love of sports, flatulent themed jokes, and greasy food help make me a man.

But in the end I think I earn my "man-card" because I'm not afraid to do whatever it takes to give my daughter the best. Even if it means dish-pan hands, bake-sales, and fewer crotch grabs.

Natalie's worth it.

Hypo-crite

2008-06-03T13:30:00.004-04:00

Natalie looks for some Hypo-crites in her bath

Today Natalie heard me utter the word Hypocrite and got pretty excited. As I will detail in my next blog entry, Natalie loves all things that move, make noise, and have four legs so she thought we might be going to see some hippos. Unfortunately I disappointed her when I explained that I was referring to our former president, who, while vastly more competent, intelligent, and successful than our current president really has no business calling anyone
"Sleazy".

Still, it was a good vocabulary lesson...

First Cut

2008-05-29T15:00:00.003-04:00

Natalie's threats are no longer toothless

At 29 (I've decided to say things like "At 29" or "As a 29 year old" as many times as possible before I turn thirty) I have no idea what it's like to grow a tooth. I had my Wisdom teeth out several years ago and those weren't so much growing as interfering with the infinite wisdom I already possessed.

I can imagine the process is painful. My ability to imagine how painful is aided by my always adorable but lately rather grumpy daughter, who is busy working her first tiny tooth through. I call this tooth 'big chomper' in an effort to make Natalie feel big and tough and because I have nothing to do all day but make up names for my daughter's teeth.

Teeth are a big deal for babies. Soon Natalie will be able to munch on more than overly steamed carrots, soggy Cheerios, and the dog. Soon she will enter a brave new world of crackers and cheese and she'll be able to make the dog yelp when she bites...not to mention Mommy.

Unfortunately, there are twenty more teeth to go. While the big enamel event has been relatively calm, Natalie has had her moments over the past several days. For example, the moment called Wednesday when she fussed every thirty seconds.

Why can't all these stupid things just spring up in one extremely grumpy day instead of a prolonged mildly grumpy two years at which point she'll finish growing teeth and start using them on children who make her angry? Biology is dumb. I propose that scientists research a way to get all teeth to grow at once. If they can do it with the Chia-pet they can do it with teeth! This is America Dammit!

The other "extra add-on side-effect of wonderfullness" that comes hand in hand with teething is extra drool. So Natalie is grumpy AND leaving puddles of saliva all over the house. If she was a thoughtful daughter Natalie would at least grow teeth with built in gold fronts so we could sell them when they come loose.

Which brings me to my final point. I hate teeth falling out. I don't know why it bothers me so much but it does. While I'm not the guy who seeks out the eye-surgery channel on TV, I tend to be able to handle blood and injuries when they happen in real life (perhaps because I've had my share). But I hate watching little kids wiggle teeth from their gums and I hate the parents who sit their and encourage it. "Oh..Oh..come on little Johnny give it a good wiggle. Let me see. Oh yeah. Oh boy. The tooth fairy will be visiting you soon little Johnny. That's it! Twist it on it's last little strand of flesh. What a good boy you are Johnny." At this point I generally punch the offending parent in the face or walk away while throwing up a little in my mouth...

Seriously, I have nightmares about all my teeth falling out and trying to put them back in but not being able to find them. I'm sure their is some Freudian meaning behind my phobia, like perhaps my parents never praised my oral cavity enough or some other Freudian type thing but I think it's just that I don't like to watch little kids yank their teeth out.

So, with regard to Natalie's exciting teething event I am left happy, fearful, and a bit soggy...

Burning Bush

2008-05-21T19:58:00.007-04:00

Natalie reacts to the president's latest moronic move

While Natalie's official political endorsement is still forthcoming, she's thrilled that no matter who eventually gets elected, we'll soon have a president who might be able to match wits with a chimp.

She decided she'd fill in for me this week (I'm busy recovering from a weekend in VT with her Fruncles) and produce a top ten list. It took her a really long time to complete this list but here it is:

Top Ten Things Natalie Likes Less than George Bush

10. Dropping babies: I know I've mentioned this before but this ritual is scarier than Daddy's morning breath!

9. Orange Elmo: Come on Orange Elmo, get your own identity!

8. The New York Yankees: George Bush may be evil but he is not an evil empire.

7. Green Vegetables: No matter how much daddy says they are good for me, I'm with Bush Sr. on this one.

6. Eczema: It's a lot like George W. in that it can't go away soon enough.

5. Low-fat Ice-Cream: I haven't gotten to try ice-cream yet but when I do it better be the real stuff.

4: Leaky Diapers: Your only job is to not leak. You are incompetent!

3. People who only sporadically post new blogs: Like this guy...

2. The Word Awesome: Bush totally ruined this word for me. I have now resorted to using wicked, dope, or phenomenal.

1. Airplane Sex: Come on! Get a hanger already...

1a. Naps: They are dumb. I refuse to take them any longer. Daddy don't even try to lull me to sleep with your rocking and shushing and quiet music...on second thought, I could go for a nap right about now...

The Eczema Strikes Back

2008-05-04T18:42:00.009-04:00

Natalie learns for the first time that, "I am her father"

Babies are hard.

But you knew that. You don't read this blog for obvious statements of fact, you read this blog for the insight, the unique perspective, and the poop jokes.

So let me be more precise. Babies are like a puzzle and just when you get one piece into place, another pops loose. Babies are like an old car that needs constant tuning. Babies are like onions, all the layers stink at one time or another...

Don't like metaphors? Fine.

Babies are hard.

Back to my point...recently we've been battling some stinkyness on Natalie's outer-layer, or as I like to affectionately call it, her "epidermy". She has been struck repeatedly with bouts of Eczema. It's not terribly surprising since eczema is common in babies and since her mother also has sensitive skin and since it's been well-established that I'm a girly-man and have sensitive everything...(I'm not sure that came out right)

The doctor first prescribed steroid cream (I'm already filing a notice with baseball commissioner, Bud Selig, to make sure she will still be eligible for play in 2028 as the first female Red Sox pitcher) and when that failed to get rid of the nasty skin scourge, some anti-bacterial cream.

This multi-faceted approach initially subdued the rash but every time we though we had it beat, it popped up again like an annoying little mole, or an annoying little democratic candidate.

So we keep battling the rash and trying to keep her skin clean and moisturized and all the time Natalie seems completely undisturbed by her ailment. Not once has she scratched it or become visibly upset by a problem that Sara and I have spent hours and several doctor appointments trying to solve.

Natalie seems much more concerned about the things we can do nothing about. The hiccups that happen below the surface; she cries when she's hungry, she cries when she has to poop, she cries for countless reasons we may never understand.

I've come to the realization that this battle over external and internal problems is one that Sara and I better get used to. Some of her current inner-issues will be easier to recognize once she starts communicating more clearly and there will be a period of her life when mommy and daddy will be able to fix all her little scrapes both above and below the surface.

And then she'll hit adolescence.

Once again burying some pains deep under her "epidermy" and no matter how much we'll want to cure what ales her, we'll only be able to provide support. Mending where we can, understanding and staying quiet when we must.

And I wonder how did I get here? How did a blog that I fully intended to be a humorous rant with a couple star-wars references thrown in, (Here's a picture of Darth Vader to make me feel better) turn into a serious reflection on Natalie's future?

I suppose this is what happens to a parents mind. You live day to day with a weary eye always on tomorrow, hoping desperately none of the mistakes you make along the way scar either the surface or the tiny ticking magic going on below it.

And somewhere whoever created this great and perfect mess of existence says, "Learn now what you must know tomorrow."

And I look at this perfect little creature we've created, forever unblemished in my eyes and say,
"May the force be with her."

Diaper Deficiency

2008-05-01T12:55:00.003-04:00

"Do you sometimes feel a little wet and uncomfortable?...I do."

Why do diapers hate me? The last two nights Natalie's diapers have leaked, resulting in a wet and very unhappy baby at 3 or 4 in the morning and, coincidentally, a dry but very unhappy daddy shortly thereafter.

The biggest issue is that by the time I change her clothes and get a new, equally evil, diaper on, she's so grumpy that it takes thirty minutes just to get her to calm down, let alone go back to sleep.

So Sara and I are considering some of the cloth hybrids that have recently hit the market. If the diapers are going to leak and be a pain, at least we might be less intrusive on mother nature. stay tuned for exciting cloth diaper updates in the coming weeks...(yeah, I just wrote that sentence)

In non-diaper related news, Natalie learned another new trick, this time all on her own. She discovered that her tiny little finger fits in her tiny little nose. It was quite exciting for about a half hour yesterday but she seems to have forgotten her new ability, which is just as well since we have company this weekend and she needs to be reciting the alphabet and playing the piano and doing other super-smart baby things...not showing our friends her boogers.

In more developmental news, after days of experimenting Natalie managed to pull herself up to standing without aide. She used the nearby laundry basket and wobbled on up. Sara managed to catch her before her triumph resulted in a topple and tears. This is further evidence that Natalie is well on her way to being the toughest and awesomest baby ever. As if she wasn't already there.

In related news, I am preparing for her eventual mobility by running laps around the house.

In Political news, Natalie was originally pretty excited for Hillary's gas relief proposal but upon learning that it was a pandering pile of garbage and not a way to end uncomfortable gas, she changed her mind.

In sports news, Natalie doesn't like the Atlanta Hawks. They are mean and scary looking. Except for Josh Childress who, according to Natalie, has the best 'fro in the NBA.

Finally, in completely non-related to anything news, Natalie is glad she doesn't live in Brazil...

Important Lessons

2008-04-29T14:50:00.006-04:00

Today's Lesson: Throwing back a cold one...

As I mentioned in my most recent blog, Natalie is constantly learning new tricks, many of which result in us having to keep a closer watch over our darling little imp.

Another part of that equation, however, is explicitly trying to teach her important life lessons, even as she continues to spit up on her clothes. Life lessons like, no means no, or the cat doesn't like it when you pull out tufts of his hair, or daddy doesn't like it when you pull out his chest hairs...

My most recent quest was to teach Natalie how to give high-five. Some might scoff and suggest there are many more vital lessons I could be teaching my nine-month old daughter but those people are lame and probably wear sweater-vests.

The high-five is an integral part of American culture. Think about how many times you have given someone a high-five or some variation there-of. It's especially important for anyone involved in athletics and given how strong and squirmy Natalie already is, I am confident she will dominate all other children in every sport she pursues. In fact, I recently took a call from Nike about a sponsorship...they want to put the swoosh on all her diapers...I told them I'd think about it.

Anyway, in a matter of minutes Natalie figured out how to give a high-five and let me tell you it is the cutest high-five ever. A tender little smack followed by a gummy little smile. It's awesome.

Tomorrow we move on to fist-bumping and "giving skin".

It's a new adventure every day.

Clap your hands everybody...

2008-04-24T11:52:00.004-04:00

Grandpa teaches Natalie to sing...loudly

People always want to know what exciting new things Natalie is up to. Is she walking? Has she said her first word? Does she know the Quadratic equation?

The answer to all three questions is no. (though I think her math is better than Hillary Clinton's).

This stage of baby-hood is filled with exploration and small accomplishments but few that can be bragged about to co-workers and friends.

I can't fathom, for instance, excitedly telling a friend, "Guess what!!? Natalie totally squirmed more than normal today." or "She finally figured out how to poop without screaming!" or "She babbled agobada for the first time."

These moments seem tiny and insignificant but parents notice even small steps on the way to larger and more recognizable achievements. We revel in them.

Despite the seemingly slow pace of progression, Natalie did learn something new this weekend while her grandparents were visiting. After about thirty minutes of constant clapping and encouragement, her grandmother managed to teach Natalie how to clap. And clap she did.

She clapped when anyone else clapped. She clapped when kitty entered the room. She clapped when she farted. She clapped when the Yankees won....obviously she hasn't figured out the whole context thing that goes along with clapping but it's certainly a start.

This, along with countless other momentous, if minute, new deeds help propel Sara and I out of bed each morning, hoping that perhaps today will be that magical day when she learns to put both her feet in her mouth and we enthusiastically applaud.

Insubordination

2008-04-15T14:15:00.005-04:00

"The Cavalry"

As a father, one of the first things you must learn is that no matter how involved you are in your child's life, you will always be second in command for all procedures related to 'operation baby.'

The mother of your child could live on the moon 360 days a year and you would still answer to her regarding the baby.

If you've been married for more than 3 days, you should be well prepared for this chain of command.

Here are some of the things you might (read: will) do that your wife will consider insubordinate and result in punishment. (How do all women know the secrets of disciplining their men? Is there some hidden location where they all learn these methods?)

Possible Insubordinate offences:

1. Referencing the fact that your child farted: Your child does not fart. She might "toot" or do some other innocuous sounding thing, but she does not fart. Even if she "toots" so loud the house shakes, it is best to keep your mouth shut.

2. Giving your child un-flattering nicknames: Cutey-pi-too-ti or Angel are perfectly acceptable. Ms. Mc-poops-a-lot and Stink-worm are not.

3. Insubordination topic number three has been blacked out by the superior officer.

4. Discussing the odors your child produces: Anything that comes out of your baby smells like flowers and spring.

5. Pretending to drop or let your child fall in order to produce laughs: It may produce laughs for the baby but if your commanding officer catches you, the only thing it will produce for you is welts.

6. Letting the dog lick your child: You and the baby may find it amusing but chances are mommy will not.

7. Letting your child lick the dog: See above.

8. Suggesting in any way that another child may be cuter: The truth never matters here. Never. Your baby could be placed next to the Gerber baby and would still be ten times cuter. Your baby could look like a tiny Orc and still be cuter than any other baby...Natalie does not look like an orc...a hobbit maybe...

9. Suggesting in any way that anything your child does is not cute: Everything your baby does is perfect and brilliant and cute. Your child can throw poop at you and it is cute. Accept it.

10. Placing the child in unapproved outfits: It is not humorous or fun to place the baby in flannel pants and a polka-dot shirt. Babies, especially baby girls, must be in matching outfits.

11. Questioning the superior officer: You are allowed to make suggestions. You are allowed to help. But what the superior officer says may as well spring from God's mouth...and if you don't believe in God it might be a good time to start...

p.s.- This blog itself represents an act of insubordination

p.p.s.- I will be punished.

Priority fix

2008-04-14T08:51:00.004-04:00

"Daddy's priorities are all screwed up...but I've got mine straight."

Last night something occurred that I never thought would happen.
I went to bed at 10:30.
When the Red Sox were on.
Playing the Yankees.
In a close game.

Sure, in the course of my 29 years of fandom, I might have missed the occasional west coast game against the A's in the middle of the summer, or left a blow-out against the Rangers early, but I never left in the middle of a close Red-Sox Yankee game unless it involved some other sporting event, severe physical distress, or some life altering event.

In 1999, during the ALCS I was in the hospital for one of the Red Sox/Yankee games. I'd just had surgery, I was hopped up on various drugs, and I insisted on staying awake for the whole game, even as the nurses insisted I needed rest and even after I threw-up in my hat.

I'm a die-hard. And yet, last night I didn't even consider staying up to watch the whole game. Dice-K was working at a snails pace, every count went to 3-2, and I decided by the 4th inning that once Natalie nodded off, I'd do the same.

But I was worried.

I knew I wouldn't sleep. Knew I'd be kept awake by thoughts of the game. I'd toss and turn and eventually surrender to the call of rivalry and late-inning drama and fist-pump inducing strikeouts. Instead I surrendered to that demon pragmatism.

Somewhere, in the depths of my mind, a new little angel Josh voice, devoted to his daughter and to not being a zombie the next day, beat up the incumbent little Josh voice, devoted to following the Red Sox through thick and thin. It was an insurgent candidacy my brain didn't see coming.

I was asleep in a matter of minutes and I only woke when Natalie cried at 3:45. I sat up and, to the horror of the bruised and battered incumbent voice, didn't immediately rush to the computer to check the box score. I rubbed my eyes, stared at the clock, told Sara to go back to sleep, and retrieved Natalie from her crib. She quickly drifted back to sleep in my arms and at that calm and serene moment I heard a tiny and frail voice calling out from the recesses of my Cerebellum. I cradled Natalie, grabbed the remote, and turned on ESPN. The Red Sox had triumphed despite my abandonment...

I laid Natalie back in her crib and both voices sighed contentedly.

Cheap Date

2008-04-03T12:12:00.006-04:00

One of Natalie's favorite friends, "Captain Remote-face"

Last night, while lying awake in bed, I planned to write an important and serious blog about the fear of parents in a world that pushes fear. I was inspired after watching various stories on Autism for National Autism Awareness day...then I didn't sleep and Natalie woke up at 2 with a leaky diaper and failed to get back to sleep till 3:30. My brain is currently being held together by more Duct Tape than Pedro Martinez's body and that brilliant and article is gone.

Instead, I'm going to write about Natalie's favorite toys. Not as important but much easier.

My daughter is a cheap date and I'm proud of it. They say that kids are often happier playing with the box the toy came in and that seems to be true for Natalie. She likes her rattles and especially her musical toys but she is just as happy, if not happier, playing with the following...

Daddy's old beat-up Red Sox hat: Clearly she has good taste in teams.

The Remote Control: She always changes the channel to stupid shows like American Idol, so I've given her an old remote...Daddy rules the TV!

A piece of paper: She is totally happy to shake a piece of paper for hours on end.

The Dog and Cat: When she gets mobile, Bruce and Fenway are going to lose a lot of hair.

Plastic cups: There just so plastic-y!

The Couch Pillows: For some reason she's found them enchanting since birth.

Mommy's and Daddy's face: Ah, the joy of grabbing noses, lips, and cheeks.

The Butt-Paste Canister: Her love for the Butt-Paste can has been well documented

A diaper: Don't worry I only give her clean one's...though she wouldn't care.

There are more but the Duct-tape around my brain is getting lose...

Let's just say I will remind her of all the fun she had with this stuff when she is 13 and asking me for that pair of designer jeans.

AKA

2008-03-31T12:05:00.006-04:00

Noodles...WHAT?!

I grew up in NH. I am Scottish. I am really, really white. But my friends and I grew up listening to Wu-Tang Clan, one of the most popular and raunchy rap groups of our time. Now that we are older and more mature we regularly make references to those days long ago and giggle like thirteen year old girls. Seriously, we're pretty cool.

Before Natalie was born, we were engaged in such a giggle-fest while discussing her name. Since we didn't know if she'd be a boy or a girl we needed something ambiguous to call her in the meantime...we settled on "Noodles", a reference to an old Wu-tang song in which they list off countless nicknames. I don't know exactly how and I don't know exactly why but we found it uproariously funny.

In deference to Wu-tang and for the sake of posterity I am posting all the nickname's Natalie has accrued in her first 8 months.

Noodles
AKA
The Pea
AKA
Squirmy Worm
AKA
Yoopie
AKA
The poop machine
AKA
Yooper-uni
AKA
Natalie-bo-batalie
AKA
Peaches
AKA
Worm-face
AKA
Milk-face
AKA
Giggles
AKA
Silly-billy-goat
AKA
Chubby Cheek-ers
AKA
Madame Mc-Poops
AKA
Pea-Head
AKA
Big-Baby Worm
AKA
Babble-onian princess
AKA
Diaper Dandy
AKA
Super-dooper-pooper
AKA
Peaches
AKA
Cuddles
AKA
Doll-face
AKA
Baby Awesome-o

That's all I got for now...I'm glad I am writing this blog so that some day she'll look back and realize just how cool and not at all lame her daddy is...

Consumer Confusion

2008-03-26T15:01:00.009-04:00

There are lots of Diaper Cremes out there...Choose wisely.

As a man, (yes my Y chromosome is intact) it's soldered into my DNA to hate shopping. Like all men before, I've learned the steps to successful purchasing...

1. Walk into store
2. Locate desired item
3. Ignore any alternatives to said item
4. Pay for item
5. Leave store

This five step program helped me mitigate the large consumer world for the first 28 years of my life. Sure, there were shopping trips with my mom and sister when I was growing up that nearly killed me, but I survived those long tedious afternoons and thought they were gone forever.

Then we had Natalie. Luckily, through the generous nature of friends and family, we haven't had to do much clothes shopping but I've discovered, through trial and error, that the manufacturers of all baby related items assume that women are making the purchases.

For example, the other day I had to buy some nipples, (are you expecting me to make a joke here? You should have learned by now that this blog is above such low-brow humor and I would never make any kind of joke about buying nipples) so I entered the store and proceeded with the five step program. I found the nipple section of the store, (I was secretly hoping they'd have a whole aisle labeled "nipples" so I could take a picture and send it to my other mature friends) located the specific nipples we needed for the specific bottle we use. This task was difficult for my tiny male shopping brain cell because there are 349 different brands of bottles and nipples. But I got the brand of nipples we use and headed for the checkout.

I decided I needed something manly to divert attention from the fact that I was buying nipples, so I purchased a sports magazine and a bottle of Mountain Dew. "Take that!, judgemental checkout girl" I said to myself.

The next day I woke up fully prepared to boil the previously purchased nipples (you have to boil nipples before you use them) and put them in our nipple rotation, weeding out some of the older nipples intended for younger and less awesome babies than Natalie.

As I began to rip open the package of nipples, I saw a small but vibrant word on the cardboard backing..."Advanced". My tiny male shopping brain cell groggily rolled out of bed and stared transfixed at this word, confused by its meaning. At first, he surmised, it must mean this is for more advanced babies but then he sadly realized that this particular nipple was meant for our brand of bottle but not for the subset of bottles within our brand. The brain cell cursed and many interested onlooking brain cells, which included a pack devoted to baseball box scores and another extremely large group who were only interested because they heard the word nipple, turned to see what was happening.

So now I need to go back to the store and find the right brand of nipples and the right subset within that brand. I see this type of thing happening many more times as Natalie gets older. A mother would have read the label, read the back cover, seen if the nipple came in any different colors, and found a sales clerk to ask if any generic brand nipples fit our particular bottle. In other words, she would have followed the complex female shopping constitution that is too long for any man to understand. But she would have bought the right nipple in the first place.

In related news, we are going shopping this weekend. Luckily, however, my brain cell and I aren't worried. Sara is coming, which means he'll just have to wake up every so often and agree that whatever item she picked out is perfect. Then we can go back to thinking about box scores and other manly things.

Tiny Devil

2008-03-14T20:34:00.001-04:00

This is my dog, I call him Cerberus

In what can only be described as an extremely disturbing development, Natalie has begun making a deep guttural grunting noise that would fit perfectly in a twisted Steven King novel about a possessed baby. In response, I've invested in some holy water, a cross, and a really cool ghost-buster back-pack...she does kind of resemble the stay-puff marshmallow man...

The Dangers of Dad-dom

2008-03-06T21:16:00.010-05:00

Attack of the Baby!

No one said it was going to be easy. I heard the horror stories of sleepless nights and fifteen diapers-a-day but there were some things I wasn't quite prepared for...some silent but deadly dangers, often specific to stay-at-home dads, that have been overlooked. No longer.

1. Not-the-momma: While you can argue all you want that stay-at-home dads can do just as good a job as stay-at-home moms, there are some things we just can't do. For instance, If I want to take Natalie someplace I need to think about and prepare a food source, since I lack the necessary mammary glands and accompaniments.

2. Daytime drama: As human beings we crave stories, especially those with recurring characters, good and bad guys, and drama. Thus far, I've managed to avoid daytime drama's (otherwise known as Soaps) because I fear watching them might actually result in the growth of previously mentioned accompaniments (although one could also argue that would be a very good reason to watch). I need the baseball season to start so I have box scores to read and games to watch but until then I've settled on the daily drama that is the democratic primary race...

3. Fatherhood fifteen: Every college graduate knows about the "freshman fifteen", the weight you gain during your first semester of school, but the fatherhood fifteen is just as deadly. When you stay at home all day snacks are easily accessible and when you have fifteen minutes to make and eat a lunch, frozen burritos sound pretty good...mmmmm...frozen burritos....

4. Random noise generator: When you spend most of your day around an infant, you do and say silly things. And when you're me, you do them all the time. Breaking the habit when venturing out in public becomes difficult. It's one thing when I've got Natalie with me but it probably looks a little odd when I'm waiting in the grocery line making elephant noises, waving my arms wildly, and saying to the check-out girl in a sing-song voice "Do you have my bananas? Yes you do...you like bananas don't you...oh, bananas are tasty...Can you eat a whole banana? I bet you could...you little banana eater."

5. Sleepy stumbles: Recently, after breakfast, I put the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge. Luckily these sleep-deprived mistakes have not yet extended to putting the baby in the oven and the chicken in the cradle...

6. No, dear, I'm not saying your toes are big...: Dads and Moms are different. Even in a stereotypically reversed marriage like mine, those inherent differences come through. Sara is more "motherly" and at times I find myself infringing upon that natural instinct simply because I'm in charge more often. The outfits I pick don't match, I play too rough, and I worry about the wrong things (like if her throwing arm is developing). It's inevitable that when one parent stays home, the other feels left out, but I think those feelings are stronger when the Mom is the one going to work.

7. Protection: When I stopped playing baseball a few years back I put my protective cup away, sure I'd never need it again...then we had a baby. Her tiny little legs are like a pair of ball pein hammers whacking away haphazardly while I carry her around the house. She is apparently set on being an only child.

Ultimately, the life of a stay-at-home dad is great but let this blog serve as a warning to any prospective fathers. Get healthy now, avoid daytime television, and get that jock out of the closet...you're going to need it.

Random Updates

2008-02-28T11:26:00.010-05:00

"I just keep getting cuter"

Natalie keeps growing. Changing at a rate that no mortal blogger could keep up with...or at least no blogger who also has to care for her. What follows is a slew of Natalie updates in convenient Top Ten list form.

10. Bable-on: Natalie is currently a babbling fiend. She spends much of her day telling me her baby-thoughts and I, of course, am happy to listen. What scares me is that this might be a trait that continues into her teenage years. I've decided to start a charitable foundation called "Natalie's Minutes". Please give and help a family avoid going into debt when their daughter starts using a cell-phone.

9. Solid!: Natalie has begun to eat Solid foods. We were hopeful this would help her sleep through the night and if you consider 4am sleeping through the night...it has. So far, applesauce is her favorite. I have invented a new hip diet called the "baby-zone." All you eat is formula and pureed food. You're bound to lose weight because who wants pureed cupcakes?...wait a minute...that sounds pretty good.

8. Rollin', Rollin' Rollin', Rollin'... Rollin'on my belly: While Natalie long ago began rolling from her belly to her back, she recently began to roll from her back to her belly. The first step in making me chase her around the house all day.

7. Circadian Staccato: Natalie continues to defy the standard Circadian rhythm of humankind. During the day she sleeps in fairly predictable patterns but then at night she seems to be teasing us, occasionally sleeping till 4 or later but other times waking multiple times in need of comfort. In response, I've upped my coffee intake to 320 cups a day.

6. Presidential pull-out: Natalie has decided to pull out of the presidential race. While she has many enthusiastic supporters, she ultimately felt she needed to concentrate on learning how to talk, walk, and her acting career. She urges all other "marginal" candidates who've lost 11 contests in a row to drop out as well.

5. First Failure: In a devastating evaluation at her most recent doctor's appointment, Natalie was told her arm strength was pitiful. She has been put on a strict regimen of tummy-time, pull-ups, and protein shakes. We've hired a personal trainer and purchased tiny arm-weights.

4. Natalie will make you...Jump, Jump...: Natalie discovered the wonderful world of her jumper and decided it wasn't so wonderful. However, she is growing to like it and we're confident she'll develop her leaping skills soon, allowing her to participate in next year's slam-dunk contest.

3. Grunting: While she isn't making formal requests, Natalie has discovered that a simple grunt can express a number of things. Such as, "I want that", "Give me that" and "Why haven't you gotten that thing for me yet?!"

2. Out on the town: Natalie has enjoyed adventures to the grocery store, the mall, and the library. I have enjoyed juggling the 63 different things we have to bring every time we take her someplace.

1. Here Kitty, Kitty: Natalie desperately loves our cat Bruce. While Bruce is currently indifferent to Natalie, that may change once she becomes mobile. Her current method of displaying affection is reaching out, grabbing Bruce by the fur, and yanking really hard. Maybe we should just shave Bruce and spare him the pain...

Well, that's a good chunk of what's been going on with Natalie. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some more coffee.

My Funny Valentine

2008-02-13T15:05:00.008-05:00

Who wouldn't love these silly raspberry-ing women?

My whole life I've only had one Valentine at a time.

Growing up I had my mother. Then in high school I had my mother. Then in college I had my mother...until I finally met Sara in my Junior year.

(Editors Note: Anyone who claims there were any women in-between should know I have Roger Clemens's lawyers on speed dial and they are ready to begin a he said/she said war, which will inevitably end up in front of Congress, since they apparently like to take time out of their schedule to settle stupid inane disputes that have no bearing on the American Public while the country collapses around them)

(Editors note #2: I should also note that I love my mother and called her to say Happy Valentine's Day. Just in case anyone wanted to point out that my mother should always remain my Valentine.)

For the past eight years, I've celebrated Cupid's (and Hallmark's) holiday by wooing Sara and reminding her of my deep and devoted love. I've written poems, I've bought chocolate, I've bought thongs (but most of them didn't fit me quite right). But now I'm torn. Can a man have more than one Valentine? And if Cupid's laws dictate I choose only one, how would I do it?

Simple. A Pro/Con list...or rather just a Pro-list, since I don't want to get into hot water with either of my two women on such a special day. I also want to point out that to write a thorough Pro-list I would need to spend the rest of my life on this single Blog entry, so what follows is a quick and incomplete description...

Let's start with my wife:

1. Known her longer: I have seven and a half more years with my wife and let me add that they were seven and a half wonderful years...(I see you over there, rolling your eyes...)
2. Stimulating conversation: I love to hear Natalie babble but it's hard to debate the current primary race, talk about anything without turning it into a question (Did you poop in your pants?), or not use a effeminate voice.
3. Stimulating: ...
4. Countless Qualities: Too many to number but for the sake of winning brownie points and making her forget #3 here are just a few; Smart, Beautiful, Caring, Devoted, Hard-working, Penguin-like, Kind, Considerate, Able to leap tall buildings...
5. Helps out around the house: While Natalie makes a lot of messes, (not to mention my own contribution to clutter) Sara helps clean them up.
6. Puts up with me: It takes a brave woman to be married to a poet. A. We're notoriously scattered and messy. B. Our money making prospects are about as good as Hillary Clinton's prospects of winning in November (couldn't resist). C. We post blogs and write poems about them and then they get embarrassed or grumpy and we have to remind them that we love them a little more each day and that our life wouldn't be worth living without them and that the couch is really uncomfortable...

Natalie's Pros:

1. Cuteness: Sara is undeniably cute but she will readily admit that her reign as Queen of Cutopolis may have ended the day Natalie entered the world.
2. No-nag factor: Natalie has never asked me to clean up my office, put the seat down, or stop scratching myself...just sayin'
3. Napping: Sara hates naps. It is like some sort of genetic disdain she inherited from her father, which causes them to view naps as an admission of weakness. Natalie on the other hand is very Pro-nap. I stand by her on this issue.
4. Damsel in Distress: What man's heart doesn't break for a woman in need and Natalie is constantly in need. Yes, there are times at 2am where I ponder not answering her cries but then I remember her cuteness and sleepily waltz out of bed.
5. Sense of humor: Sara has a solid sense of humor but Natalie shares my enjoyment of farting, belching, making silly noises, performing zerberts and other crude gestures. Sara tends to disdain such lowbrow humor.
6. Puts up with me: Natalie has already watched 320 sports games with me, listened to 2,389 stupid made up songs, and had to deal with a dad fumbling his way through fatherhood but she grins and bears it like a champ.

Well, it's clear that I may never find a victor in my Valentine competition. I suppose I will have to carve out enough space in my heart for both women. Such is the trial of a man surrounded by two lovely ladies.

And I know this blog is a day late but when you’re as head-over-heals as I am, every day is Valentine's Day.

Footsie

2008-02-12T09:16:00.001-05:00

What is this crazy thing?!

In one of the more epic discoveries of the past century, ranking right up there with anti-matter, cloning technology, and go-gurt...Natalie has found her feet.

It happened one normal afternoon on the changing table (Yet again lending more credence to the idea that some of our best thinking is done on the pot...or in this case, on the table). Natalie was busy, as usual, squirming and kicking and making it nearly impossible to get a new diaper on, when she noticed something odd looming in her peripheral vision.

It looked like a strange hand and smelled like a wet dog. But what was it exactly and why did it seem to be moving in a controlled fashion? And then, suddenly, like a ton of foam bricks, it hit her. These were her strange hands!...She controlled them!...And look she could grab them and pull on them and nearly get them into her mouth! And, as if that wasn't enough, she could use them to make it even more difficult to change her. Oh, what a wonderful morning that was for Natalie.

Since that day her fascination with her new found appendages has grown. It is indeed lucky that we have all these fancy interactive toys and rattles because they give me something to do while she marvels at the different lengths of her toes or coos while reaching playfully for her feet.

Her new discovery has also reaffirmed my theory that while scientists can study babies till their pocket-protectors turn blue, they will never truly be able to understand what babies are thinking. No adult can truly imagine what it would be like to wake up one morning, head to the john, and discover arms sticking out if his abdomen. I'm also sure our reaction to such a development would be a little more dramatic and a little less excited.

This is the joy of watching babies grow. Maybe we can't understand how they think but we can certainly admire their ability to navigate an ever-changing world and take it all in-stride.

Thumbs up

2008-01-17T12:16:00.001-05:00

"Do you bite your thumb at us, mam?"

(Editors Note: Many of these blogs are going to be completely out of order and months overdue because of the lag created by the Holiday season. This entry started over two months ago and I am just now actually getting to it...but I figure this is better than just letting it die. Hopefully, when Natalie goes off to college, I will be caught up...)

At about three months (I said I'm behind, didn't I?!) Natalie found her thumb, or rather her whole hand...she hasn't quite mastered the art of getting just her thumb. Indeed, even now, past the five-month mark, she seems to prefer a three or four finger buffet to a single digit meal. Apparently her hand is pretty darn tasty, since she is constantly popping it in and out of her mouth.

It made me wonder what life would be like if we didn't discourage thumb sucking as a social convention.

Seriously, does any kid really want to stop sucking her thumb/hand? Hell, it took a one-hundred dollar bribe to get a girl I know to stop. (I'm not mentioning any names here, but let's just say her name begins with Bry and ends with N and that she's my sister...)

But I understand why. The thumb is really comforting, always accessible, and you can flavor it with anything from ketchup to boogers. Go ahead. Try it. (minus the boogers...unless you're feeling adventurous). Come on...just do it....

See. Okay, so maybe it's a bit awkward with the teeth in the way but only because it's been so long since you actually popped your thumb in your mouth. So why, at some prescribed age do we make kids stop? Wouldn't this be a happier world if we all had a built in source of comfort?

Just picture the next time your boss yells at you, being able to find instant happiness at the end of your arm. Sure, it would make shaking hands a little more difficult but I am sure we could invent some sort of thumb-sucking-hankie for clean-up after a good long nibble.

Think of the possible large-scale implications:
1. Less drinking. Why turn to alcohol when you can just turn your head?
2. A whole new industry centered around thumb-enhancement products (and we all know the economy needs some stimulus...get it...stimulus...moving on...)
3. Less violence. Seriously, are you going to keep hitting someone who puts his thumb in his mouth?
4. More napping. Something we could all use.

The downside:
1. Crooked teeth. A serious concern but we could work around this.
2. Having to see friends and family suck their thumbs in public. Ew.

But aren't crooked teeth and a little public awkwardness worth it?

Whose with me?

Raise your drool-soaked hand...

Snowed in...

2008-01-14T10:23:00.001-05:00

What is this strange and glorious thing called sleep?

Apparently life on the campaign trail is wearing Natalie out. She managed to sleep till five this morning. That, coupled with Sara being snowed in from work for part of the day, made for a nice change to my usual Monday routine of Coffee and baby-talk. The only negative was having to shovel the driveway and realizing how out of shape I am...

Babies are good for the soul but I am not sure they are good for the waistline...

In other news, Natalie's opponents in the race for president have accused her of making the campaign all about cuteness. But that's simply absurd. Why would Natalie bring up a topic she is bound to win by a landslide? What good would it be to point out that next to her all the other candidates look like trolls? Really.

Primary School

2008-01-08T10:27:00.001-05:00

Upon finding out a second woman was running for president, Hillary lends her support to Obama...

Tales of a House has recently learned that, dissatisfied with the crop of presidential candidates, Natalie Marcia Conklin has thrown her hat into the ring. What follows is an exclusive interview transcript with the new, idealistic candidate.

TALES: Ms. Conklin, thank you for granting us this interview.

NATALIE: Oh it is my pleasure, and please call me Natalie, or Pea, or Noodles...just don't call me the Super-duper-pooper or my Mom will get mad. (Laughing)

TALES: We wouldn't want that, we've heard your mother is a formidable woman.

NATALIE: Oh, indeed. She's my inspiration, and I'm not just saying that so she doesn't get mad at Daddy when she reads this...

TALES: Well, Natalie, I suppose we should ask what caused you to get involved with politics at such an early age.

NATALIE: I'm a natural politician.

TALES: How so?

NATALIE: I like to take naps, I don't clean up after myself, and I constantly change positions...(laughing)

TALES: Speaking of positions...I know America is anxious to know where you stand on the issues.

NATALIE: Where I stand? Look, I can't even sit without help and you want me to take a stance? (more laughter)

TALES: OK...then what is the platform you're running on?

NATALIE: Really? That's your follow up. It's just too easy...but seriously, I think the most important issue facing America right now is the war-on-terror.

TALES: And how do you plan on combating terror?

NATALIE: Well, I'll appoint Daddy Secretary of Boogey-man defense and Mommy General in charge of Germ-warfare. I also plan on proposing a ban on zerberts, noogies, and wedgies to help out some of our elderly voters between the ages of 2 and 18.

TALES: You realize none of those people can vote...

NATALIE: Maybe in YOUR America but in MY America all hard-working Americans will have a say in the governance of America. I think that is what makes America great. The American people. That, and Elmo. America.

TALES: Why do you keep saying America?

NATALIE: Americans like to hear their candidates talk about America. They also think they like change and I think I know a little something about changing.

TALES: Like what?

NATALIE: Well, you better have everything in place before you begin a change or else the results can be horribly messy.

TALES: So, what do you think of your competition?

NATALIE: Well, to borrow a line from that other female candidate "I believe in doing not thinking."

TALES: Did she say that?

NATALIE: No. But she could have...

TALES: And Obama?

NATALIE: He's too likeable.

TALES: Too likeable?

NATALIE: Come on, America doesn't want a candidate they can believe in. Someone who brings people together. Someone who doesn't rely on negative campaign tactics and fake tears. Someone who is smart. America thinks it wants change but it keeps voting otherwise.

TALES: This blog is starting to sound curiously like your father's way of pointing out his preference for presidential candidates.

NATALIE: Absurd. Daddy is rooting for me but if I fail he'll be happy to choose between Hillary's Gigantic Government machine, Huckabee's Christian Crusade, or Romney's Anti-Everyone message...

TALES: Those are some harsh words.

NATALIE: Sorry. The section of my brain that prevents me from saying exactly what I mean hasn't developed yet. It's likely to be my biggest pitfall...you know...honesty and all...

TALES: And McCain?

NATALIE: HA! Someone who isn't overly prepared or scripted? A War hero? Someone who is at least willing to go across party lines if the idea makes sense. Yeah, I'm sure he'll get the nomination...(chuckling)

TALES: Right. Natalie, your critics say you can't possibly win. In part, because you have only two full-time campaign workers. What do you have to say to these people.

NATALIE: (blows raspberry) Those two people work tirelessly round the clock for me. Just last night I needed to be held and fed at 3:30 and they were both there for me.

TALES: Do you really believe you have a chance at winning this election?

NATALIE: I don't know. (sighs) I don't know. But I do know America is ready for change. Change and less terror and more schooling and less taxes and change and America and Elmo and American Idol and naps...(trails off and face goes red...she grunts)

TALES: Natalie, is everything all right?

NATALIE: Of course, of course...but now, both America and I need a change...(cries and a weary man with a scraggly beard enters the room shaking his head...)

Hiatus

2007-12-20T12:06:00.000-05:00

"Ho-hum, I miss Daddy's blog"

Blog on Hiatus until two things happen:
A. Holidays are over
B. Natalie stops waking up four times a night...

Let's hope B happens before A.

Happy Holidays to all!

- Old Man Conklin

Fruncle Rules

2007-11-29T08:46:00.001-05:00

Would you let this man hold your baby?

My two best friends are coming to town this weekend. I couldn't be more excited for them to meet my daughter and have them share in the joy of her smiles, her cooing, and her crying at 4:30 AM...

But as their visit approaches, I realize I desperately need to create a set of rules for "Fruncles" (Friend-Uncles). These laws are especially important for those Fruncles who have yet to experience the joy of children.

What follows is my attempt at a universal set of rules that new dads everywhere can pass out to their "un-babied" friends. * Yes, I am giving babied a new meaning. "Babied"; Used to describe a male who has recently undergone an inevitable and drastic shift in his entire world due to the birth of his first child. I've totally been "babied"*

So, without further ado, I present my first attempt at the "Fruncle Rules" (though I'm quite sure I'll have a few more rules after this weekend when my friends remind me what un-babied 20-something men are like...)

Rule #1: Pigskin problems

There is a method of carrying a baby called the "football hold". This does not mean you should do the Heisman pose while toting the baby or pretend she is a football in any way. You will be banned from ever holding her again. (Rule can sometimes be ignored if mother is out of the room and football is on the TV)

Rule #2: Failure to Flatulate

Babies fart.

A lot.

However, it should be noted that mothers generally don't find these gaseous eruptions hysterically funny (surprisingly). A chuckle and wink to your buddies is sufficient. If you make a huge deal out of the tiny baby's booming buttocks, your friend will get the "I've always hated these fools" look from his wife, and your next invitation may not come for awhile.

Rule #3: No. You are not allowed to watch.

Breastfeeding is not a "free show".

Rule #4: Shut up. Seriously.

You are positively not allowed to brag or complain about the part of your life that you and your friends used to talk about for hours on end. He doesn't want to hear it.

Rule #5: Helping hands.

When women visit they like to carry the baby, remark on how cute she is, and speak in silly baby voices.

You should not feel obligated to carry the baby, especially if you will not be able to obey Rule #1 or are afraid you might break, drop, or permanently scar the child.

However, remarking on how cute the baby is will win you points with the baby's mom.

Entertaining the baby with silly voices will win you points with your current significant other, if she is around, possibly leading to the aforementioned unmentionable events from rule #4...

Rule #6: Change is gonna come...

Your friend will be different. I am not sure exactly how, it could just be a shaggy beard, an extra fifteen pounds, and gigantic bags under his eyes or it could be a complete shift in priorities. But he will be different. You have to love him anyway. But, as always, you don't need to express that love in anything more than a hand-shake man-hug combo.

Rule #7: All-nighters are all-gone

Your friend is not going to stay up past midnight with you. In fact, he may be in bed before ten. But you won't have to wake up at 2:30 and 5:30. Don't make him feel guilty. He wants to stay up but doing so might disturb the delicate balance of sleep he manages to get by going to bed at ten...(all four hours of it)

Rule #8: Plan Ahead and plan on being disappointed.

If you want to do anything with your friend, a quick trip to the movies or a weekend long visit, you better do some advance planning. Life is more complicated with a baby. It was one thing for your friend to spring a visit on his wife when it was just the two of them. If he did it now, you would be dooming him to at least ten back-rubs, four fancy dinners, and five manicures before she forgave him. Just call like two months in advance and don't be surprised if he says he's already busy.

Rule #9: Baby comes first.

No matter what. You'll understand when you have one.

That's all for now. I'm gearing up for the Fruncle arrival in t-minus 4 hours. I've swathed the baby in bubble wrap, rubbed my wife's feet, and warmed up the x-box. I'm sure these Fruncle Rules were completely unnecessary but Rule #10 is that Dad's are overprotective of their baby girls.

Natalie put on a big smile and get ready to learn that Fruncle's Rule.

Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks were "Whimpy in Seattle"

2007-11-27T09:31:00.000-05:00

Attack of the Restless Baby!!!

If you're thinking...

"Hey, Josh, where are those mildly entertaining and somewhat disturbing blog entries you used to write?"

I invite you to my house where Natalie has decided she can no longer sleep through most of the night. Apparently waking up at 12:30 and 3:30 is preferable. The past few nights I've caught "Eddie Murphy Raw", bad science fiction, and sports scores at 4 am, while comforting Natalie back to dreamland and trying to allow Sara an extra hour or two of sleep.

All I have to do is stumble through diaper changes, feedings, and silly songs, (made sillier by my lack of sleep) but she has to make important decisions that could shape the mail industry as we know it...

So if your postage machine suddenly becomes completely impossible to interpret, you can blame Natalie, who decided she really wanted to catch the late night showing of Rollerball...

Baby Talk

2007-11-12T11:57:00.001-05:00

"Ah-goo, Daddy, Ah-gooooo!"

We've all seen one of those TV shows or movies where some alien or primitive race uses one word or a grunt to express all manner of things. (Admit it. You liked it too...Deep down we're all suckers for stuff like this...it's not just me that's the dork here...is it?).

Well, I'm suing all those producers for stealing the idea from Natalie and babies everywhere.

My darling daughter's vocabulary currently consists of various vowel sounds and dramatic grunts, the most notable of which is her adorable and constant "Ah-goo". (Apparently this is one of the first vocalizations beyond a simple vowel that many babies utter. Scientists have theorized that babies make this sound because of its inherent cuteness, enabling them to lull adults into a false sense of security before completely taking over their world...)

Though at first it might seem that "Ah-goo" is a meaningless quip, I've used my baby-language converter (it sits on a shelf next to my wife-language converter) to weed out the complexities of Natalie's so called babbling.

1. A-goo: "What-up?"
2. Ah-goo, Ah-goo: "I'm hungry"
3. Ahhhhhh-goo: "I just peed"
4. Ah-gooooo: "Listen up!"
5. Ah-goo followed by a grunt: "I need to poop"
6. Ah-goo followed by a devilish smile: "I pooped, now clean it up"
7. Ah-goo followed by a raspberry: "What-Ever!"
8. Ah-goo, A-wa, Ah-goo: "I could use a stiff drink"
9. Ah-goo, your mamma, Ah-goo: "Your mother is my grandmother. I would never disparage her with one of those lame 'your momma' jokes that you and your loser friends found funny in high-school. God dad, you are sooo embarrassing.
10. Ah-goo, oooo, Ah-goo: "Isn't the Gerber baby dreamy?" (Is the Gerber baby a boy or girl?...)
11. Ah-Ah-Ah-goo: "Hold on, it's on the tip of my tongue."
12. Ah-goo-goo: "I wanna party!"
13. Ah-goo-ba: "You are now under my control. Surrender all mammary glands, rattlely toys, and cuddly stuffed bears, attend to my various demands at all times, and dammit get me Elmo on the phone!"

That's all I've been able to work out so far but I'm sure I'll discover new meanings soon.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to make a phone call to an imaginary puppet...

Ah-goo

Paging Dr. Hoover

2007-11-07T08:47:00.000-05:00

As a new parent, navigating the magical and wonderful world of responsibility, I am always on the lookout for new ways to help my child understand and appreciate the subtle truths of society.

Like; People are created equal, love is a powerful and dangerous emotion, and always be on the look-out for short-cuts...

Luckily getting Natalie to sleep has provided an opportunity to demonstrate the final lesson. Don't get me wrong, I'm willing to walk and sway my way along the slow path to serenity if that is what it takes, but if there is some magical swath through the forest of fussy, then my feet will find its cool grass. (Wow...forest of fussy...really?)

So, I've fallen in love with our vacuum.

Natalie has reached the point in her development where she is willing to fight sleep. She'll give clear "sleepy signals" (eye-rubbing, yawning, glassy-eyed looks) and then when I lovingly pick her up and begin rocking her to dream-land (a tactic that worked brilliantly up until a week ago) she squirms and wails and looks at me with great disdain. As if to say, "you better come up with something better than this bucko"

Which brings us back to my new best friend, Mr. Hoover. Apparently babies love white-noise. It's been scientifically proven that this is because while in the womb babies can only get A.M. radio stations on their tiny in-utero boom-boxes and most of the time these stations come in poorly so babies are forced to listen to staticky talk-shows...

Armed with this scientific knowledge, I strap Natalie into her front-carrier and switch on Mr. Hoover. I've always liked vacuuming the most of all chores, probably because the big loud machine makes it feel more manly. Now I have a new reason.

By the time we reach the kitchen, my little bundle of crankiness has floated off on the river of loud but dust-free dreams. The whir of the vacuum like a gigantic baby-Ambien.

The icing on the cake is that when Sara gets home, I can brag about all the vacuuming I got done...(until of course she reads this blog...)

Now if only I can teach Natalie to fall asleep to the sound of clanking dishes, or better yet, the subtle whir of my X-box...

Death of the One-Armed Wonder?

2007-11-01T09:12:00.000-04:00

Is this the end of our Hero?!...
(See Previous Blog Entry "One-Armed Wonder")

In what can only be described as a tragic blow to the super-hero community, the "One-Armed Wonder" may be dead.

The little-known super-hero was perhaps best remembered for his ability to clutch his sidekick the "Super-Dooper-Pooper", while simultaneously relieving himself. The duo's epic defeat of "Captain Diaper-Rash" by using the "Hair-Dryer-of-Glory", is also a noted accomplishment.

The One-Armed Wonder's super-friend and disgruntled wife, "Engineering Momma", had this to say, "Really?! He's writing another blog entry about this? What a dope. I can't believe I have entrusted the care of Natalie to him. And, no, I will not call her the "Super-Dooper-Pooper". God, what a moron."

It had been rumored for months that Engineering Momma was under the "Grumptatious Curse" of "Sargent Sleeps-so-Little" and it appears those unfortunate whispers are true.

While many mourn the death of the "One-Armed Wonder", others claim that he and the "Super-Dooper-Pooper" have simply evolved into a Voltron like super-hero; a singular entity seen above, which is currently being called "Pappa-Kangaroo", a name that seems destined to strike fear and confusion into the hearts of evil-doers everywhere.

Have our heroes bonded together in a new and more powerful way? Will Engineering Momma divorce the One-Armed Wonder? Can anyone stop this string of lame blogs?...

Only time will tell. Only time will tell.

Tune in next week for the Third Episode: "Pappa-Kangaroo and the Couch of Misfortune"

WOOOOOOO!

2007-10-29T10:00:00.000-04:00

Sox Win! Sox win!

I can sleep before midnight! I can sleep before midnight!

Now that the Sox epic October is successfully over I promise more blogs in the coming days, once I catch up on my sleep a bit.

In celebration of their victory late last night, I shook Natalie's milk bottle and sprayed it all over her...we're both very happy this morning and looking forward to some power naps.

Two-Month Wasteland.

2007-10-23T11:33:00.001-04:00

"Uh-Oh...nobody tell Al Gore..."

Yesterday I set a record; most diapers used in one changing session. But I totally blame Natalie.

She simply refused to cooperate. Apparently babies are funny that way.

Just when I thought there couldn't possibly be any more poop and began strapping on a new diaper, Natalie would smile an evil Dr. Evil-like smile (I went to school for writing), and soil another diaper, a few extra wipes, and the nation of Uruguay.

Being the loving father that I am, I simply laughed, called her a poopy-face, told her she was beautiful, and apologized to all Uruguayans (By the way, spell-checker isn't picking up Uruguayans, so apparently it's a word).

I calmly grabbed another diaper, cleaned up, waited a minute to make sure she was done and then slid diaper number three under her adorable little tush. (As a father, I am now legally allowed to use words like tush without raising any eye-brows. )

And it happened again. Another devilish smile. Another devilish outburst. This time she spared Uruguay but managed to soil her outfit.

But how quickly the eyes of a father forgive.

After another wipey-bath, I put her in a fourth diaper and set her in the crib. I quickly rinsed her dirty outfit and pulled another cute little get-up from the depths of her dresser, which is twice the size of mine. Her dresser is twice the size of mine because as I've been told by various female family members, little girls need lots of clothes they will never wear as part of some strange feminine rite of passage.

Once her next outfit was ready, I swooped back to her crib to find her contentedly looking at her mobile and wearing a grin that some might relate to what I was about to find in her diaper...

Finally, after another change, Natalie decided tormenting her father and small South American nations was boring. She shifted her attentions to a particularly interesting piece of her crib bumper and drifted, angelically, off to sleep.

We'd managed to run through five disposable diapers in one fell swoop.

Was I bothered that my daughter apparently has no concern for the health of our planet?
Sure.

But what really bothered me about the whole diaper fiasco was finding out my sweet little girl is a Republican.

(Editors note: I know, I know...I should be using cloth diapers but I am way too lazy and way too easily grossed out for cloth diapers. I applaud all those mothers who did it in the "olden" days and those modern moms with more motivation and gumption than me. The rest of you, who might be ready to point the finger, feel free to come visit for a week and bring those diapers with you. Natalie has something she would like to show you...)

Free Agent Deal

2007-10-19T08:59:00.001-04:00

Honestly Mr. Beckett, how cute is she?

I've contacted Josh Beckett after last night's performance and offered him Natalie's hand in marriage 21 years from now. Terms of the proposal will not be disclosed but I can report that he is said to be "Seriously considering" the deal and that it includes an opt-out clause if he ever joins the Yankees...

Indian Summer

2007-10-17T10:48:00.000-04:00

Why is this racial stereotype smiling?

It's all my fault.

Several weeks ago I started a blog entry and now I wish I hadn't.

Why you ask? What could be so terrible about a blog entry, and furthermore, why would it take weeks to finish?

The answers to those questions are simple:

I forgot the #1 rule of a Red Sox fan. And it takes me weeks to finish because I'm busy with diapers, feedings, cleaning, napping, more diapers, more napping, and other manly things.

Anyway, when the Red Sox made the playoffs I started reminiscing about my childhood as a Sox fan. During the fall months baseball was typically over. The Red Sox were out of it, having found some new and more painful way to finish second to the Yankees, and I was depressed...in the dumps until a Halloween-candy induced high shook me from my malaise in late October.

Now I'm raising a Sox fan (At least she better be a Sox fan. Of course I'll love her even if she's not. I just won't speak to her from May until November) and things are different. My beloved team is in the playoffs almost every year and at the start of these playoffs looked primed to win another World Series. I was so confident I even started a blog about the Sox new found success...

How would this new Red Sox Nation affect the formative years of my dear daughter?

Some might suggest that a new, happier, less-paranoid fan base was emerging; these fans looked forward to the fall months, didn't hold their breath every time the Sox did make the playoffs, and could wear a Sox cap in NY without being subjected to "1918" chants...but that was exactly why I was concerned.

The misery induced by the Red Sox helped shape my early adolescence. I learned to deal with heart-break, failure, and bitter disappointment (all key abilities when I became interested in girls). I learned more from Bill Buckner, Mariano Rivera, and Mo Vaughn then I did from many high school teachers.

The Sox helped turn me into a hopeless romantic and in turn a writer...I often wonder if I would have become a poet if I was a Yankee fan. (Do Yankee fans even write poetry? Do they know how to write?)

Before and during the Red Sox epic World Series run of 2004, I would have been trying to find the various series of superstitious positions, foods, and daily rituals to help the Sox win, knowing it was foolish the whole time, but believing it all the same. During the playoffs I would bite my nails, lash out at random people, and wake up in the middle of the night wondering if it was possible to put a contract out on Grady little...

This year? I plopped myself on the couch haphazardly and expected good results...when they easily swept the Angles, I took a hard look at myself and wondered aloud if I wanted to raise a daughter in such a climate. Did I want a little girl who came to expect her team in the playoffs every year? A girl who would demand nothing short of a World Series? A girl whose father rooted for a front-runner? In other words...did I really want to raise a Yankee fan circa 1990?
(A picture of your typical Yankee fan)

A difficult question for a man trying to shape the moral fiber of his daughter. Perhaps I should start routing for the Cubs, in order to ensure plenty of October heartbreak and teaching moments for my little girl...

Now, weeks later, I'm reminded why that was a foolish concern. The Sox are down 3-1 to an annoying Indians team and I'm muttering at the TV. I'm grumpy, angry, and ready to punch the first Indian fan I see (though a Yankee fan would do)...This is the October I remember.

The Red Sox will never be the Yankees because as soon as something starts to go wrong Sox fans are still ready to throw up their hands, sigh, shoot back a couple a Sam Adams, and begrudgingly wait till next year. (Although despite what Manny Ramirez says, it IS the end of the world...at least for a couple weeks)

We have plenty of October villains left to discover (I'm looking at you J.D. Drew and Coco Crisp). While I remember and love 2004, I also remember with a sort of gut-wrenching enjoyment all the tough years, the ones that taught me patience and a hopeless romanticism. I'm sure my daughter will have plenty of sad Septembers in her future and we'll curse the Yankees in bitter glee. Then, when the magic does happen again, it will be all the sweeter shared.

p.s.- And If you think I wrote this blog as a counter-jinx in order to help the Sox turn it around tonight...well...

Monday Morning Blues

2007-10-15T09:30:00.000-04:00

You'd think since I take care of Natalie every day of the week would feel exactly the same.

Monday through Friday would be a jumbled mass of diapers, silly songs, and naps but alas even house husbands are subject to a bout with the Mondays..

Sara is off to work and I'm home alone again with Natalie and stack of projects...good thing I have this blog to help me procrastinate...

I need another cup of coffee.

Man Maintenence

2007-10-10T22:16:00.001-04:00

This guy doesn't need any help...

(Editor's Note: Um...I shaved this off a day later. I just wanted to see what I would look like with a mustache...turns out I looked like a cross between a 70's porn star and Charlotte Bobcat Forward Adam Morrison (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam_Morrison)
In other words, too awesome to unleash upon the world.)

WARNING! WARNING! The following blog contains politically incorrect jokes. If you are sensitive to gender-role stereotypes and are wound so tightly you can't laugh at a guy poking fun at himself and "traditional values" then close this blog immediately before I make my first lame joke...no seriously...here it comes...I warned you...fine. Read the stupid thing then.

My friend and former colleague Todd G., an English teacher and canoe-racing enthusiast (seriously, if you want to know about racing canoes ask Todd) e-mailed recently after a particularly effeminate weekend of laundry, grocery shopping, and cooking.

Todd was distressed and worried that he might have misplaced his Y Chromosome somewhere in the produce aisle. Naturally, Todd turned to me, knowing I do a "women's work" on a regular basis but also aware that despite my daily activities I ooze more manliness than a 1980's Tom Selleck. (http://www.imdb.com/gallery/mptv/1319/Mptv/1319/5412_0030.jpg.html?path=gallery&path_key=0080240)

He wondered if I had any tips on getting back his "Man-fire"... apparently his beautiful wife was trying on his pants and he really didn't like it.

Well Todd, you're in luck. You came to the right man. I've spent a lifetime maintaining a strong sense of masculinity while tackling more grass stains than quarterbacks...

So here are some fail safe tips to help men concerned with the flaccidity of their testosterone:

1. Watch sports: Preferably a high-contact sport like football. Make sure to invite other men so you can high-five when your team scores. Ignore the fact that you are watching other men perform in tight uniforms.

2. Eat Meat: All meat should be cooked on a grill and be so rare that you risk ingesting some sort of parasite. This will lead to your woman asking, in a particularly condescending tone, "Should you eat that?" Your response should be a grunt and a mouthful of meat. It would also be good if you killed said meat yourself.

3. Make Something: One of the most primordial male drives. It doesn't matter if you are completely incapable of producing a functional item. Just pound some nails into wood and call it your "Manly-Wood-thingy" On second thought, don't call it that...

4a. Scratch yourself: Go ahead, remind everyone that you have something to scratch.

4b. Spit: It doesn't matter where or how. Just spit on the ground. It wouldn't hurt if you scratched yourself at the same time...it shows a coordinated man presence.

5. Win something: Don't be afraid to make it easy. Challenge a third grader to an arm wrestling contest, a woman to a driving contest (...oh I'm gonna pay for that one), or me to a spelling contest.

6. Drink Cheep beer: This beer should be so cheap that people regularly remark how bad it is. This will allow you the opportunity to say, "It's fer getting drunk, ya nancy-boy" at which point you will have proven your manliness and can stop drinking the crap.

7. Get a woman pregnant: This is a leave-no-doubt option for those of you who lost to the third grader.

8. Think of me: Honestly. Right now I have a baby on my shoulder, a load in the laundry, and am trying to figure out what I should make for dinner...

I probably should make a nice rare steak.

Priorities

2007-10-04T08:28:00.000-04:00

Most evenings Natalie tends to be a bit fussy before bed time. The 6 o'clock to 8 o'clock hours can often be rocky. She's not willing to sleep and she's not willing to play. A general grumpiness overtakes her. It's just part of her otherwise content and happy day and we're happy to take it in exchange for the fact that she then settles down and has a good six hour stretch of sleep.

Last night, however, she spent most of that time quietly asleep in my arms, with only the occasional squirm to reposition her tiny little body on my chest...

She obviously knew the playoffs had arrived and the Red Sox were playing game one of their ALDS series against the Angels. So I cheered quietly (it was a challenge not to stand up and shout when Papi hit the home-run or yell at the TV when Lugo was called out at second but I'm learning to be a less animated fan) and Natalie slept soundly and we all enjoyed a Red Sox victory.

Here's to hoping for at least ten more quiet nights during October!

Breaking News Alert!

2007-10-03T09:35:00.001-04:00

This young woman looks relieved...

In an update to a previous story (see: "Diaper Defiance") an agreement has been reached between the two sides on the DooDoo debate of 2007.

The cartoon characters have agreed to allow all pooping to resume, while parents have agreed to relegate the use of prune juice to extreme cases only.

Representitive Kermit-the-frog had this to say, "Look, it's not easy being green but we're happy with the end result. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go lobby for the Pig Farmers of America."

The negotiations also included a stipulation that no discussion of bodily functions shall occur on this blog for at least a week.

In a related story, my wife is talking to me again.

In a further related story don't expect many posts for at least a week...

Diaper Defiance

2007-10-02T07:52:00.001-04:00

Elmo and Orange Elmo (I haven't seen Sesame Street in awhile) aren't going to take it anymore!

Natalie hasn't pooped in four days (Editors note: I promise all these entries won't be centered around my daughter's bowl movements) the doctors and the books all say this is normal. Her little insides are changing and absorbing milk more efficiently so she'll begin longer stretches between poops. Still, the doctor wanted to see her so we went to the office (I can hear my mother's intake of breath as she wonders if her dear, sweet, grandchild is okay....).

She checked out fine. However, in order to help her along they prescribed Prune Juice. Yup, Prune Juice. I deeply regret that our daughter's first foray into the wonderful world of food outside of milk will be prune juice. What's next? Fruit Cake?

Anyway, while the doctors are confident that a little extra fiber given in the form of revolting juice should help Natalie's colon relax, I'm not so sure. You see, the doctors clearly haven't heard about the strike...

For years diapers and the cartoon characters printed on them had it rough. Brought into this world, they're happily packaged together; smiling little faces, fluffy little sheep, and happy little clouds. But they're soon and unceremoniously plucked from the flock and strapped onto a baby's bottom. Once attached, they spend their remaining hours waiting for the inevitable deluge that will signal their removal. To add insult to injury they are then discarded in the nearest receptacle. It's a tough life and now, after years of torture, they've gone on strike.

Elmo, spokes-puppet for the recently formed union had this to say, "We're not gonna take this crap anymore. We'll take the pee cause it's sterile but were putting our furry feet down on poop. Well, not on the poop itself...on the issue of poop...is what I meant to say."

Another outspoken member of the group, Dora-the-Explorer chimed in, "I'm not accepting any more of these little rug-rats' 'presents', I mean honestly who calls this 'presents'? Would you want to invite them to Christmas?!"

Indeed the anti-poopimation league (APL) has grown strong, drawing support from countless children's characters like Bob-the-Builder and Cookie Monster, each of whom have strong constituent backings.

But unfortunately the group can't depend on any help from older generations, as parents and grandparents everywhere are outraged. "My son should be allowed to poop whenever he wants. This is ridiculous. I mean, it's what they're made for!" said one frustrated mother.

It is unclear when this issue will be resolved but a committee on Poop Affairs has been formed in the Senate. They are currently listening to the APL's demand that prune juice be banned, since as one angry little sheep put it, "We can hold back normal doo-doo but prune-enhanced ka-ka may be more than we can handle."

Stay tuned for the latest on this hot-bottom topic...

Alpha Gamma Poopy

2007-09-27T15:04:00.000-04:00

"Dude, I could sooo go for some Motz sticks."

Most of my posts thus far have been light-hearted. Today, however, I need to address a serious and disturbing subject. My daughter is actually a college fraternity brother in disguise.

Absurd you say.

Impossible you object.

Let's take a look at the evidence:

1. Both like to binge on dairy products:

For frat brothers it's pizza, motz sticks, cheesy burritos, or any other gooey milk product they can afford. For Natalie it's milk. I mean, it's ALL she eats.

2. An infatuation with flatulence:

On any given Saturday night, you can find a group of fraternity brothers sitting around eating afore mentioned dairy products and giggling about the intestinal trumpeting that results from a human overdose of cow's milk.

Likewise, Natalie has a lot of gas...a lot. Furthermore, she often seems to find her raucous sounds extremely amusing. Smiling broadly after particularly loud toots. I'm seriously waiting for her to ask me to pull her tiny finger.

3. Her incredible video game skills:

Natalie consistently beats me at Madden 2008. Alright, that was a lie...she always beats me.

4. The obsession with breasts:

No explanation necessary.

5. Partying all night. Sleeping till noon.:

I swear if I find a keg under her crib she's going straight to her grandparent's house.

6. Drinking too much:

While frat boys consume copious amounts of beer, often until they leave some of it in small puddles across campus mixed with the digested remains of all the dairy products they consumed earlier that night, Natalie chooses to regurgitate small amounts of milk...directly on my shirt.

7. Random grunting:

It's like they share some sort of secret language where grunts can take on countless meanings from I have to poop to boy I could really go for some dairy products right about now.

8. Napping Frenzy:

Seriously, is making it through the day without a nap too much to ask?

As you can see, I clearly have reason to be concerned. I was hoping that Natalie would grow out of this phase and prove she's not actually a college fraternity brother, however, perhaps the best approach is to join in...

How soon till she can pull my finger?

It's My Party!

2007-09-25T11:05:00.000-04:00

Natalie discovered that she has lungs. Lungs full of air. Air made for crying.

Until yesterday she cried almost exclusively when she;

A. Had gas
B. Was Hungry
C. Was tired or over-stimulated

I can only speculate on the various reasons why she cried yesterday, since she managed to use her afore-mentioned lungs with great success. Here are some ideas;

A. She had gas
B. Was hungry
C. Was tired or over-stimulated
D. The dog looked at her funny
E. I had the nerve to move when I wasn't supposed to
F. She was having a bad hair day
G. She was too cold
H. She was too hot
I. I dressed her in a pink top and green pants...Daddy has no fashion sense
J. It was Monday
K. No one noticed that mommy did her nails on Sunday
L. She was still upset over the Bears loss on Sunday night
M. She found out I called her a poop-machine in my blog
N. Her stock portfolio plummeted
O. Could we diversify her diet already? It's always milk, milk, milk!
P. It was her seven-week birthday and no one got her a cake
Q. She heard a rumor that the world does not revolve around her
R. She finally got around to watching the third Matrix film
S. She got in a fight with her favorite toy, "Mr. Starface" (and yes, that's what I call it)
T. I explained my boyfriend policy
U. Two Words: Diaper Rash
V. Three Words: Daddy's Coffee Breath
W. She feels a lot of pressure as the cutest baby in the world
X. Just getting ready for the teenage years
Y. I totally won't let her get that sponge-bob tattoo
Z. What else is a seven-week old baby supposed to do?

It was a long day but the next turned out to be much happier! Thank god for the mood swings of little girls...I guess I better get used to it :).

One-armed Wonder!

2007-09-24T09:10:00.000-04:00

As the father of a seven-week-old baby, I do a lot of heavy lifting. I carry Natalie when she's fussy, gassy, about to be fussy or gassy, or because she fell asleep while I was carrying her and there's a good chance she wakes up if I put her down.

(Editors note: Everything we've read says you can't carry a baby this old too much and in fact it may help with any kind of colic they're experiencing...so essentially I'm the father of an eight pound sack of potatoes, which I've decided to have welded to my chest).

Besides being good for the upper-lats (although a bit rough on the lower back) all this time lugging Natalie around has helped me discover the many things I can do one-armed. Here follows my top-nine list (never can be too careful about copyright infringement) of things to do with a baby slung across your shoulder.

9. Eat or Drink: This can get tricky and I certainly avoid drinking anything hot unless she's sound asleep but since I'm not given a bottle or breast every few hours on demand, (boy do babies have it good...) sneaking a snack here and there has become essential. There may be a few more crumbs in the couch cushions and she may occasionally get the stray drop of water plinked on her pretty little outfits, but a guy's gotta eat!

8. Read: I don't recommend thrillers since she's likely to get fussy just as the villain opens to closet door but poetry, short stories, or a classic you've read before, are all great options. I've also taken to reading some of the baby books we've received. (I'll post some recommended reading in a future blog)

7. Solve the Health-care crisis: Well, maybe that's a bit ambitious but having an infant provides plenty of time for reflection, even if much of that thinking is done while that little bundle of joy wails. I have internal discussions, reflect on the previous day, plan the next one, or just do a little day-dreaming about a world where baby cries are coveted and earn parents rich rewards...

6. Make Coffee: Until I started teaching a few years back, I hated coffee. All I needed in the morning was a cup of OJ and a shower...then I started working with teenagers...and...well...that all changed. Now I crave my morning cup of caffeine-infused power. When Natalie starts her day with a hearty set of sobs, I start mine by carrying her to the kitchen. Once she settles down, I actually get to pour and drink the coffee but at least it's ready.

5. Write a Blog: Duh!

4. Pee (Guys Only) I know I'll catch some flak for this one but when she's just gotten calm on my shoulder and my second cup of coffee hits...well...god blessed men with the ability to pee standing up with one or possibly no hands...I will now head directly to the store to buy a dog house for when Sara reads this...

3. Exercise: 8 pounds may not be a lot but I suppose it makes those squat thrusts and calf-raises all that much more effective and since I haven't exactly been eating healthy lately, I could use them.

2. Tidy-up: When battling sleep-deprivation the last thing I want to do when I get twenty free minutes is pick up the random stuff that has accumulated around the house but right now plenty of random stuff is piling up. Mail left unread for a few days, that pacifier she spit out on the floor, that pacifier she spit out on the floor and the dog made a chew toy, the project I started believing I had twenty minutes until she started screaming...anyway the point is putting a few things away now might mean a nap later...mmmm....naps.

1. Count your blessings: There's a baby on my shoulder and she is the most beautiful amazing thing in the world...

I think I might even give my right arm for her!

Top Dog?

2007-09-21T07:15:00.000-04:00

Editors notes:

1. I've decided to drop the whole anonymous "our daughter" and "my wife" stuff since most everyone who will read this blog knows who I am anyway and I don't expect anything controversial to line these pages.

2. You should now be able to make "anonymous" comments. Meaning you won't have to log into the site or have an e-mail account to post something scathing about my misuse of the possessive (something I'm unfortunately famous for) or remark upon how adorable Natalie is...

Now onto the days blog:

It's been a rough go for our various four-legged friends since Natalie arrived.

Hamlet, our adopted stray, has gone missing. We hold out hope that he may yowl up to our doorstep one morning or that some kind stranger seduced him with a can of Tuna. I also like to imagine he's traveling back to his original home, preparing a play, and seeking to wreak vengeance on an evil uncle.

Bruce, our house cat the size of a house, (he's slimmed down to 18 pounds) has been simply aghast that we've allowed something else to curl up on our laps. He spends his time hunting moles (which he has become remarkably successful at), brooding in my office, and eating a lot of food in a meaningless attempt to fill the void. But he's a cat. He'll be alright.

We found out shortly before Natalie was born that Fenway, our lovable if slightly over-zealous mutt, has a form of mouth cancer. The Vets suspected an aggressive carcinoma, which they believed would likely metastasize elsewhere, so we are doing all we can to treat the symptoms and extend his life-span as long as possible. He remains energetic and happy even if we have to soak his food and give him multiple pills each morning. In fact, getting pills is now his favorite daily activity, since they are wrapped in a piece of tasty ham or bread.

He has, however, been a bit displaced by the arrival of Natalie. He is normally a bit "clingy" but now he's down-right attached to our hips. This wouldn't be a huge deal except that we're navigating a small house with a baby on our shoulder, so he regularly gets shooed and scolded.

If life were a gym class and we had the big red jelly-ball, he would be the kid nearby yelling "Hey, I'm over here! Throw me the ball! Come-on guys! I can really catch. Don't throw it to the little uncoordinated kid over there!" (Editors note: I think this metaphor fell apart sometime after "If life")

I wish I could explain that it's not just him we've been neglecting. Dishes sit in the sink, the vacuum gathers dust, and Sara and I haven't gotten hair-cuts in two months (and no that's not what the kids are calling it these days). Emotionally I feel terrible that he doesn't get as much attention as he once did, even though logically I know we need to focus on Natalie.

Well, it's late, I'm tired but before I go to sleep I need to go give my dog a good pat, and maybe give my cat some more food.

The Whole World Smiles with you...

2007-09-19T07:08:00.000-04:00

Over the past few days it's become clear; our daughter's mind-charming lip-curls are not solely due to the various rumblings passing through her intestinal track. She's smiling. At us.

Wow.

And that about sums it up. Wow.

Some parents will tell you they know the exact instant when their baby first smiled at them. These are the same parents who will proclaim that their baby slept through the night from day one, didn't cry when she had her vaccinations, and poops tiny gold nuggets.

For us, or for me at least, it was a gradual realization. When her smile wasn't followed five minutes later by a loud toot, (I promise a future post on the amazing noises our daughter is capable of making...I know you're already excited for that one) I started to wonder if perhaps that cute-little-gummy smile was for me.

Luckily, her first big day of smiling came when her mother was home from work. When we both agreed these were full-fledged smiles, we were transported to an alternate dimension called "Our-daughter-is-smiling-at-us-land" where intelligent adults spend hours trying to get their babies to repeat actions, even though the babies just want to stare at a set of horizontal black lines or concentrate on the all-encompasing task of filling their diaper. We coaxed and cooed and eventually she coalesced with a few more brilliant moments and we caught several on camera, which, grandparents will tell you, is more important than actually enjoying the event itself.

Throughout the day she blessed us with several more "smiley" episodes and seems to enjoy her newfound ability. I know we do.

First Day Jitters

2007-09-17T11:38:00.000-04:00

It's my first day as an official "Stay-at-home Writer-Dad", so I naturally decided to create a blog. I mean, with the countless spare hours of free-time I am bound to have raising my daughter, I should be able to write a measly little blog...right? How hard can taking care of an eight pound little poop-machine be?

(Editors Note: My wife would like me to explain that my daughter is not a poop-machine but a beautiful angel. She would also like me to note that when my daughter does poop it smells like a fresh spring morning in Colorado.)

The truth is that this short post took hours to complete. Between changes, feedings, and other various parental activities. Much of it was written one-handed with a squirmy baby on my shoulder in various stages of grumpiness. But I need to keep writing and while I hope to continue writing poetry and short stories, I may not always have the fuel or the fire. In other words, I'll be too tired.

What this blog will become, I am unsure. I hope it becomes both a place for friends and family to remain updated on my daughter's early progress through life and perhaps even a resource for other stay-at-home moms and dads...Maybe even an epic literary journey of discovery and wonderment culminating in a lavish book deal...but I'm getting ahead of myself a bit. For now, it is enough that I am writing. Gotta run, the poop-ma...I mean angel needs a change...