tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69119926167588682472024-03-04T21:34:22.253-08:00Da Maestro a la Figlia: Director Turns DaddyA crash course in life change.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-58274079660760015042013-04-06T19:15:00.001-07:002013-04-06T19:15:13.642-07:00Sorry - this is about poop. I won't make a habit of talking about it.<div style="text-align: center;">
***DISCLAIMER***</div>
I try to refrain from frequent oversharing of medical, personal, or just gross things about my baby or family. I also try to realize when things are boring or irrelevant to anyone other than my family.<br />
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This is not that. Like the book says,<br />
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Not only does everyone poop, but nearly everyone will find themselves at a point in life when they will be responsible for someone else's poop, even if just once, and by accident.</div>
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Anyway.</div>
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Before I had a child, the only practical thing that worried me about being a parent was dealing with gross diapers. I'd never changed a baby before, and I've almost thrown up on dogs when cleaning up their poop, so my track record wasn't too great.<br />
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As I found out (<a href="http://timdrummond.blogspot.com/2012/09/l-and-everything-after-conclusion.html">and shared</a>), newborn poop is a wonderfully succint, odorless, tar-like substance not unlike marmite, the Aussie's preferred toast condiment. Not much to look at, but comes in a neat little package, and above all, really easy. After the first few days when the marmite poop goes away, it shifted color and consistency, but still not much odor to speak of, and even that was more like a musty attic than what I categorize as poop. Weird, but still OK.<br />
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That blissful time in life is thanks to my lovely wife and her breasts. Specifically, the milk from said breasts that fed my child a form of nutrition her body was able to nearly completely digest, thus leaving very little in her poop that might smell. <br />
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I love science. At least when it works for me.<br />
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Sadly, supply and demand haven't been in lockstep over the last few weeks, and we had to add in baby formula to satisfy the hungry beast. They say that stuff has gotten to be really good and nutritious, all that. Awesome, glad to hear it. Baby's growing like a weed, all is well.<br />
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Except, remember science?<br />
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Yeah, with the start of things-other-than-breastmilk comes poop-that-looks-and-smells-awful-and-like-poop. With this experience, I feel like I have a little more insight into Adam & Eve's story, knowing what it was like to experience sin entering the world.<br />
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I've already thrown away outfits. I've retched and scared my baby (no actual vomit yet, thankfully). <br />
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Yesterday's outing started out like this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjeIJq88UupxawJNdeU1iyWQEmLuCTX2L1HY5ImE8aFnPePAUP31IQIEVWmYo9CyLhcnSEXUK7QaRtKB_nr4R7CW2Zcr4Z7NunqHssCqSRoIkV0dtUngH9EahabOWUyU2GK7QXfgL-z8/s1600/DSC_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjeIJq88UupxawJNdeU1iyWQEmLuCTX2L1HY5ImE8aFnPePAUP31IQIEVWmYo9CyLhcnSEXUK7QaRtKB_nr4R7CW2Zcr4Z7NunqHssCqSRoIkV0dtUngH9EahabOWUyU2GK7QXfgL-z8/s640/DSC_0050.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We were still out, however, when the floodgates opened. In the back of the Subaru (which is thankfully made of rubber and can be hosed), we ran through all our wipes in the World Market parking lot.<br />
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People stopped and offered their knowing little "I've been there, but my foggy memory of 30 years ago makes me think I handled it sooo much better than you are" smiles and comments. My favorite lady ended our little interaction with "Treasure all these moments!" to which I responded, "You're not the one cleaning this up!"<br />
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I ran back in the store to find some paper towels. Not one to pass up a moment to use a funny pseudo-word, I quickly found an employee:<br /><br />"Excuse me - I have a.....shituation, shall we say, in the parking lot, and need a bit of back-up."<br />
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Slightly confused, blank stare. If my wife weren't elbow deep and trying to do damage control, I'd have waited for that statement to sink in a bit longer, but instead, I mumbled something about a baby and paper towels. Came back, cleaned up what we needed to, and <i>still</i> went out for Chinese.<br />
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<i>Do not go gentle into that good night</i></div>
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<i>Rage, rage against the dying of the light</i></div>
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It's the end of an era. The end of innocence, in a way. I was right; diapers are awful. The first six months lulled me into a false sense of security, and then it all came at me, hard and fast and awful. I'm thinking, toilet trained by 9 months. Tops.</div>
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After all, how hard could it be?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-70143043761762854722013-03-19T19:14:00.001-07:002013-03-19T19:14:45.994-07:00Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good NightWe went out this weekend to a restaurant Tori had been to recently and wanted me to try, The Continental. There, you can have one of the more glorious restaurant oddities I know of: a reuben inside of a pancake, topped with Greek yogurt. Known simply as a "Continental pancake," this takes the idea of an omelette, changes every ingredient, and makes for an awesome meal. <br />
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I digress. Our food was great, the service was just fine, and the prices are pretty cheap. A busy place, full of people in good moods, cheering on VCU basketball. But I wouldn't call it a good time.<br />
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Walked in, found that we had a short wait to get a table. There's not a lot of waiting space, so everywhere we were with a car seat was in someone's way. Got a table in a few minutes, but it's a high-top deal, tucked into a little inset place in the wall. We'll make it work, I said, and they brought us a high chair for the baby. "High" is a relative term, as it turns out, it's about two feet less high than "high-top table," so it was about as useful as a car without keys. So for the entire meal, one of us held Fiona. Which also means one person holds and entertains, while the other one shovels food in, trying to finish before your mate's food gets cold so you can take the baby.<br />
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Going out to eat with a baby means you have to clear the area within arm's reach of silverware, glasses, and anything else that isn't attached, or it will be in the floor. It means your menu is going to be used as a screen for all the other stuff you don't want chewed on or tossed around. It means you're probably going to squeeze beside your high-top and chairs to pick up a pacifier and reach for the disinfecting wipes over and over. <br />
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Can you tell why there aren't any pictures from this little outing?<br />
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So no, I wouldn't really call it a relaxing night out with the family. It's much easier to make something at home and eat there, where we know the high chair is the right height, we know we have toys she can play with, and we know when the floor was last cleaned. We'll definitely do it again sometime soon, though.<br />
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Before I had a child, my impression of parenthood was that your life is over. No more doing anything that you want to do, no more fun, no more nice nights out, etc. So maybe my determination to continue going out like this is in defiance of my own pre-conceived notions of what my life has become. And really, I think that's a good enough reason in itself. More than that, though, I want to spend time with my wife and daughter, and I want to do things like this because <i>that's what families do. </i>As she gets older, we'll go out as a means of teaching her how to act in various situations...right now, it's for us, and it's sort of Dylan Thomas-ish...<br />
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<i>Do not go gentle into that good night,</i></div>
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<i>Old age should burn and rave at close of day;</i></div>
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<i>Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</i></div>
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For the record, I was wrong: you can still do a lot of things you used to do before being a parent. Sometimes that means you do it less often, sometimes it means you do it to a lesser extent, but often it just means you bring your child with you and do it together. Which is cool. Kind of. It will be cool, eventually.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-58193195753147443132013-02-14T14:42:00.005-08:002013-02-14T14:50:49.761-08:00Fragility Cycles, Bach, and the WhiskI'm not sure I ever had a specific goal of blogging daily, weekly, or at any other regular interval, but I think I'll steal the blogging goal of a teacher from high school, <a href="http://lordlove-a-duck.blogspot.com/">Phil Sanderson</a>: "Could I have something to say, once a month, for a year?...My promise to you: when I've got nothing more to say, I quit." Sounds good, dad.<br />
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<b><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/1b1pC3JcZBxZCuSKfhGIG3">FRAGILITY CYCLES</a></b> is a hauntingly beautiful, semi-improvised piece by minimalist composer Ingram Marshall. In this recording, the composer performed it solo, using a Balinese bamboo flute called a "gambuh," some synthesizers, tape loops, voice, a delay system, and a few percussion instruments. Sounds like a lot of work for something whose product is so serene.<br />
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For me, listening to this sort of music is an act of defiance, against myself and my society. Life moves so fast: we live in a world where we can't believe we have to wait nearly two whole years before we can finally upgrade our piece-of-crap, 'ancient' smartphones. We answer emails on the toilet, drive across parking lots, and can't believe Redbox doesn't have the movie that came out today.<br />
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I love that world. I think technology is pretty damn cool, and I love to figure out how to make it do things I want even faster or more efficiently. I choose my route home based on whether or not I think I'll make it through a certain stoplight in one cycle. As soon as a match is over, I want to be able to read a summary and analysis within five minutes.<br />
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Fragility Cycles is 15 minutes long. There are no words; no melody to speak of; no pulse to catch, recognizable harmonic progression - nothing to immediately tell me what's happening and where it's going. Which is precisely why it's so important to me. It doesn't happen every day, but when I find that moment, I need things like Fragility Cycles to remind me to slow down. It's also why I prefer the inconvenience of making my coffee in a french press, and carrying a pocket watch.<br />
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At some point in your day, take 15 minutes to listen to this. Think of it as meditation, if you like. It's a wonderful exercise in slowing life down, and a great exploration of musical texture besides.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bLvUDiCT1gQHyZr3oQ_c5cqE2z3yMD2ulPfRaZDO0Csc85pXXJe3QANOhmhqKst9eKK2yyomCoDGtkqoxwCIssft7umUDOceunsjuyXaI7YVYazA7wMUfyvZB9tZ7LhiOAw0uHt8HzY/s1600/3qr0fg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4bLvUDiCT1gQHyZr3oQ_c5cqE2z3yMD2ulPfRaZDO0Csc85pXXJe3QANOhmhqKst9eKK2yyomCoDGtkqoxwCIssft7umUDOceunsjuyXaI7YVYazA7wMUfyvZB9tZ7LhiOAw0uHt8HzY/s400/3qr0fg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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You may recall my mention of a computer networking course I began via Coursera. Though I still love its egalitarian approach to knowledge, I've discovered a drawback: because anyone can sign up, you can take courses that assume you know more than you do. Shortly into Week 3, I realized that this course assumed I knew a lot more about computers than I do, so I ended up dropping it.<br />
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Not satisfied with just not learning, I decided that I'd stick to a realm I do know about, and deepen my knowledge instead. So, I'm planning to spend this year getting to know <b>J.S. Bach</b> better.<br />
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Wait, you already know about that guy? No, you don't. You know about him like I know about wireless routers. Sure, you've heard of him - some of you have even played or sung some of his stuff, maybe. But almost none of you have any more than a passing familiarity with his existence. If you studied music in college, you might even know that his harmonic language was really important to the development of Western music, but I bet you couldn't really articulate why.</div>
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As a vocalist, I have performed precious little of his music, much to my own detriment. In college, I liked a bass player who played the 2nd cello suite in d minor on her recital. She graduated and we lost touch, but I kept the interest in the cello suites and have been listening to them ever since, so I feel like I know them passingly well for a non-cellist. But that's about it. So, I've put together a list of music that will take up most of my listening for this year (hopefully some score study to accompany it!). If you're interested, my listening syllabus looks like this (all of this is on spotify, by the way):</div>
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The Well-Tempered Clavier: Glenn Gould (book I); Masaaki Suzuki (book II)</div>
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Goldberg Variations: Glenn Gould</div>
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The Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello: Yo-Yo Ma and Pablo Casals (VERY different - try it!)</div>
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Brandenburg Concertos: Masaaki Suzuki & Bach Collegium Japan</div>
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Various Cantatas, including nos. 82, 199, 227, and 228: Masaaki Suzuki</div>
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Mass in B Minor (John Eliot Gardiner and also Masaaki Suzuki)</div>
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Magnificat (JEG/Suzuki)</div>
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St. Matthew Passion (JEG/Suzuki)</div>
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St. John Passion (JEG/Bach Choir of Bethlehem, featuring my former voice teacher!)</div>
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Christmas Oratorio (JEG/Suzuki)</div>
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Since it's Lent, I've started in with St. Matthew Passion, but my life doesn't always allot many extended periods of time where I can follow a score or translation while listening to a multi-hour work. For those times where my eyes and hands are occupied, I'm also listening to Casals on the cello, or the Mass in B Minor, since I know the words already. By Advent, the Christmas Oratorio will probably replace my annual listening to Messiah.</div>
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In addition, I've also gotten Christoph Wolff's biography, "Bach, the Learned Musician," and with any luck, I'll also get through Albert Schweitzer's biography of the man. We'll see how all that goes - it's taken me nearly two months to read a single 600-page book so far, so I'll take them one at a time.</div>
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So, what about the <b>Whisk</b>, you say? Fiona's new favorite toy. Don't spend money on baby things, just find cool stuff you already own. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHT89uApNLburlHYP8YVOvDkpXzt8h7YyTxd5NZREQndv8YPghmKKoOB_Y0b8F4Xs_8RtPlo7oSrJQSPN4sNhGcuPQvqrAGOeiPkdn07WBsN472H9lAZu0nfIjQ6y3tvdH3jxOTJL7fJw/s1600/2013-02-14+09.16.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHT89uApNLburlHYP8YVOvDkpXzt8h7YyTxd5NZREQndv8YPghmKKoOB_Y0b8F4Xs_8RtPlo7oSrJQSPN4sNhGcuPQvqrAGOeiPkdn07WBsN472H9lAZu0nfIjQ6y3tvdH3jxOTJL7fJw/s640/2013-02-14+09.16.15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Which toy is she actually holding? I rest my case.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-9687370711078525282013-01-31T13:24:00.000-08:002013-01-31T13:24:29.072-08:00I'm Going To Be A Terrible ParentA friend reminded me that in one of my last posts (it's a bit too stale to call it "recent"), I said that I'd probably be posting more often, now that I'm done with the Master's degree and all.<br />
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Oops.<br />
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Instead, I've had a lovely time in my living room floor, tossing around some tupperware containers. I've been keeping a house running. I've been singing, playing, teaching, and reflecting upon music. And I've been baking bread.<br />
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That last one has given me reason to worry about my fitness to parent, after a little incident last week involving a drunk dog and rising dough:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7y2prvT9lEK3LZOU4_eT9XtTYBvPZ81lkJoxGlwJ3uf6mUZK3WZRoPRtYrgSMcXMnbHtd0VCGKMQ0qdWRdDOdgdoPLPfSil-_4qQ8eT0kWn8Vwd7gGq1dBQu1GUPO5fGfmHqE5oT0008/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-01-31+at+12.09.05+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7y2prvT9lEK3LZOU4_eT9XtTYBvPZ81lkJoxGlwJ3uf6mUZK3WZRoPRtYrgSMcXMnbHtd0VCGKMQ0qdWRdDOdgdoPLPfSil-_4qQ8eT0kWn8Vwd7gGq1dBQu1GUPO5fGfmHqE5oT0008/s640/Screen+Shot+2013-01-31+at+12.09.05+PM.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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What I didn't say at the time is that my dog "found" it because I left it at nose level in Fiona's bedroom floor. The recipe said to let it rise in a warm place, and that room gets warm. Didn't even occur to me that the dog could easily push the door open and eat it all.<br />
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And that's my problem: I didn't consider what might happen. Fast forward a few months, and my daughter is mobile. What's lying around my house that could send her to the hospital when she eats it? Who knows? I don't. And even when I do eventually do the initial "baby-proofing" as she starts getting into stuff, I'm sure there will be things like that bowl of dough that seem perfectly benign that send her into some sort of altered reality, like my drunk dog.<br />
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This is not an "oh no, the big bad world is going to get my little girl" sort of thing. I know you can't protect them from every skinned knee, creepy stranger, broken heart, stolen car, school bully, etc. This is my painfully real observation that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, and if I almost killed my dog with alcohol poisoning FROM BREAD, who knows what I'm accidentally capable of doing to my child?<br />
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Crap.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-72008591135237612362013-01-07T20:21:00.004-08:002013-01-07T20:21:49.388-08:00What Glenn Gould Taught Me About ParentingI can't exactly remember what sparked my renewed interest in the music of J.S. Bach - I think it has something to do with hearing the cello suites playing on my daughter's night time playlist all the time. <br />
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I have listened to and loved the cello suites for about eight years now but Bach was such a prolific composer, and was exceptionally important as a composer of keyboard works, that I wanted to spend more time with some of those. Anyone who knows Bach and the piano would immediately point me to the recordings of Glenn Gould. Though I've heard of him for years, and spent time in college working in the music library, consuming recordings of everything I could find, I don't think I'd ever listened to one of the most famous classical pianists, known especially for his interpretations of Bach. You should listen to him. Here's his famous 1981 recording of the Goldberg Variations:<br />
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Even if you're not too interested, watch a few points in this video, because he's quite the character. His friend and biographer speculated that he may well have been on the autism spectrum; indeed, his eccentricities lend credence to that theory. You'll see him sitting on an ancient-looking chair with no cushion: his father built that chair, and he only performed sitting on it, long after its cushion wore through. He specified temperature settings for his studio sessions, did not like to be touched, and limited his contact with people. His movements while playing definitely fall outside of what's typical. And my favorite thing: listen closely, and you'll hear him humming along while he plays.<br />
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This is how I knew I'd never listened to Glenn Gould before. I had his Well-Tempered Clavier recording in headphones yesterday, and thought I must be imagining things, because I heard a sort of groan/hum along with the music. And it's not subtle. He claimed it was subconscious, and the volume at which he sang varied based on how much he needed to compensate for a given piano's lack of ability to create the sounds he desired. In some recordings he's louder than others; in this 1981 Goldberg one, critics said many listeners would "find the groans and croons intolerable."<br />
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I love it.<br />
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Autism or no, Glenn Gould did what he loved, and didn't care what people thought. His gyrating stage presence might have been a novelty that drew a large crowd, but groaning and humming on a professional recording? No one does that, and I'm sure it turned people off. But he was so focused and consumed with his craft that he did what he saw as necessary and good. I love experiencing other people in love with their craft, and Glenn Gould was unabashedly in love with playing the music of Bach.<br />
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I'd like to parent that way. There's a combination of real and perceived stigma around my current almost-stay-at-home lifestyle, and though I am glad we're doing this, I often find myself playing up the meager hours I spend as a teacher, and mentioning the time I spend at home as an afterthought. I love teaching, and I love making music, but I also love being a dad, and I want to be just as unabashed about playing in the floor or reading the Belly Button Book as Glenn Gould was about singing on his piano recordings. Because of his reckless abandon of social norms, Gould created really profound and special music, and I like to think that, given some dose of that, I'll help to foster a profound and special relationship with my little girl.<br />
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That might be a bit of a roundabout lesson, but that's how I look at things right now, through a paternal lens. If you read all that and are still dissatisfied, just listen to him play.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-91434907884500216652013-01-04T15:07:00.000-08:002013-01-04T15:07:12.320-08:00Checking InIf you read this blog on the regular, you will have noticed that I've fallen off a bit on writing. Well, I've essentially stopped writing for the past few weeks, really. I haven't given up on the idea of it, but writing in this space has simply slipped my mind, with all the other things happening around me. Often when I do think about it, it's at a time when I'm busy with some task or another, or Fiona is up and about. Since I've got that rare moment when she's asleep <i>and</i> I remembered the blog, I thought I'd check in.<br />
<br />
Two things I like about this blog:<br />
(1) People hear about and see pictures of my baby, which means when I see people face-to-face, they're often up to date on what's new in her life already, and I can avoid the same small talk dozens of times.<br />
(2) It affords me an opportunity to reflect, rather than simply recount. This advantage has been largely untapped so far, but I see the potential, and perhaps will use it a bit more in the coming months.<br />
<br />
I've been told that people prefer several shorter blog posts over one long one, so I'll leave you with a bit of an overview, of what's been taking my time instead of blogging.<br />
<br />
In my <a href="http://timdrummond.blogspot.com/2012/12/master-of-house.html">last post,</a> I celebrated/ruminated on finishing my Master's in Music Education. Since then...<br />
<br />
<b>010011001101010110011001</b><br />
I've decided to start learning a bit about computer languages. We use them so often, and so many of us have absolutely no idea what makes them do what they do - it's like driving a car without knowing anything about combustion or how to change your oil. I doubt my skills will progress much beyond what an oil change does for the car, but it's a nice start. I've decided to focus on things found on the web, beginning with HTML and CSS, and hope also to play with Javascript and Python. Perhaps soon this blog will get a little facelift - stay tuned!<br />
<br />
How am I learning this? <a href="http://www.codecademy.com/#!/exercises/0">Code Academy</a>! It's free, and so far I'm very pleased. Check it out!<br />
<br />
<b>Christmas</b><br />
With both sides of the family in one town, we always travel for holidays. This is much harder with a child. I think my next post will talk about Christmas a little, but for now, I can say that it was good to see family, I successfully cooked my first turkey, and I discovered why people make such a big deal about their baby's schedule.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MfsjXSQ7JnhlLdS-Vw-89w-Ssp7PWYyPIj9QUkczcHTEPV_UDdDsmy0qTx83ju8XOkSbnpG7aeXCFU2KdUGfLMnaFklTipJqbmBhDYoVwwT1WeRGabrmdbu6yhBp_lzrHm7c5osUfn4/s1600/IMG_5460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MfsjXSQ7JnhlLdS-Vw-89w-Ssp7PWYyPIj9QUkczcHTEPV_UDdDsmy0qTx83ju8XOkSbnpG7aeXCFU2KdUGfLMnaFklTipJqbmBhDYoVwwT1WeRGabrmdbu6yhBp_lzrHm7c5osUfn4/s640/IMG_5460.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECcGAfSqYDNz3CrS51uyCmWv7rLbejua6vI3faM60dosceMdYYqEg1VaQQA0k3K98MahlSG5t1718dKOxyKV_Jw7frvZ-F24RsJPufu9p0YCzpH1WvgGyjEOcWFta3MRSvSWWb2XFCKk/s1600/IMG_5463.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgECcGAfSqYDNz3CrS51uyCmWv7rLbejua6vI3faM60dosceMdYYqEg1VaQQA0k3K98MahlSG5t1718dKOxyKV_Jw7frvZ-F24RsJPufu9p0YCzpH1WvgGyjEOcWFta3MRSvSWWb2XFCKk/s640/IMG_5463.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Living Room 2.0</b><br />
We spent most of last year buying the odd Home Depot gift card and tossing them in a drawer, as a way of saving money towards replacing the carpet in the one room of our house without hardwood floors. This picture doesn't show the stains too well, but you can see pretty clearly what animal claws do to berber carpet:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKd8neA4hFpSUS47yqxNTl-XQEDe9qkX6TbfeoW0rBLCqJ0sZdIc18AfSiJiX7rF_iiIG4KWLk89UJm2_hPS8OTpF3elRwMFDfF805Itwy9c6ReQ04LmVOExjTcRU3ykkEfeHzkOOD-b8/s1600/DSC_0081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKd8neA4hFpSUS47yqxNTl-XQEDe9qkX6TbfeoW0rBLCqJ0sZdIc18AfSiJiX7rF_iiIG4KWLk89UJm2_hPS8OTpF3elRwMFDfF805Itwy9c6ReQ04LmVOExjTcRU3ykkEfeHzkOOD-b8/s640/DSC_0081.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
We finally got enough cards, ordered our carpet, and after Home Depot did an ungainly dance with our paperwork, someone else's credit card (the first time I went to pay my order was already paid for, by a card we don't own - they couldn't figure out the owner), and someone showing up to measure unannounced, after they'd already measured and ordered...we got carpet yesterday! Also replaced the equally stained couches in that room. They were $100 on craigslist six years ago, so they served us well. We upgraded this time to a whole $250 on craigslist for a new pair...moving on up!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OO1KlTddJ4WC54YrOWY13AuwhKua0luxIN2vPinbID4YDbQ3KDPTDkSc61AQ1YrTkLy6yFHTznEdMhHhQIwt_QAFhnZuLlVNvxmpyuwv_dC_BLoZjLwEMSmvgbYmIqvVLPYRi4gXfF8/s1600/DSC_0355.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OO1KlTddJ4WC54YrOWY13AuwhKua0luxIN2vPinbID4YDbQ3KDPTDkSc61AQ1YrTkLy6yFHTznEdMhHhQIwt_QAFhnZuLlVNvxmpyuwv_dC_BLoZjLwEMSmvgbYmIqvVLPYRi4gXfF8/s400/DSC_0355.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you have pets, get this kind of carpet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So that's a taste of what's been going on. Yesterday was the big four months for Fiona: besides another terrible trip to the doctor (4 more shots), she's great. And cute:</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-74239834883774691172012-12-18T10:21:00.001-08:002012-12-18T10:21:06.208-08:00Master of The HouseWell, I can cross one more thing off that "to-do" list:<br />
Get a Master's Degree.<br />
I guess technically I won't 'graduate' until next month, but it's all over except the paperwork. I turned in my thesis last week, and now I wait for everything to be official.<br />
<br />
Woo hoo! At last, the long hours of reading scholarly journals and tweaking my APA citations is past. I'm so glad I've done all of that, it's finally cleared the way for...what was that, again?<br />
<br />
At least so far, the biggest change I've experienced by finishing this degree program is that I'm not entirely sure what I should do with my spare time (not that I always used that time to study or write before, mind you, I just knew I <i>should</i> be doing that). So two years and thousands of dollars later, I can say that I have precisely one extra (impending) piece of vellum to show for it. Oh, and working about 30 less hours a week. And one article that hasn't been picked up for publication. And many more years of paying student loans.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong - I really enjoyed the degree program I just completed. I was definitely challenged in ways that my undergrad music education lacked, and I have undoubtedly emerged a better teacher because of what I just did. There's real value in that. And I might be able to use this new academic credential to land some work in higher ed...maybe. It may prove to be just another step on the way to one MORE piece of vellum, a few MORE years of student loan debt...but we're not thinking about that part just yet. Right now, it's nice to have the degree, and it's very good to have had the philosophical, intellectual, and critical experiences of Boston University to shape me into a better music educator.<br />
<br />
In the end, though, being at home so much more than being in a classroom does sort of attenuate those feelings of usefulness and excitement to teach. I just spent two years and over $25K on a degree, and I'm a stay-at-home dad? If someone else told me they were in that scenario, I might judge them.<br />
<br />
As you can see, I have mixed feelings. That's true about a great many things these days, so I guess it's fitting. In practical terms, though, finishing this degree means I need to create more structure in my life, now that one element of structure has been removed. Stay tuned for how that's going.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-71533801313846012752012-12-02T18:51:00.002-08:002012-12-02T18:51:35.988-08:00How to Make Your Baby Cheaper
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Since I'm still neck-deep in thesis writing, Tori's made a guest post about what she does best (well, one of many things she does best): make money work better.</div>
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So, while I don’t have any interest in starting a second
blog for our family, I told Tim that I would like to share ways that we had a
baby without spending a ton of money. This helped to make it possible for Tim
to work part-time and for me to take part of my maternity leave unpaid. Tim is
by far the better writer, so be glad that he is sharing his thoughts most of the
time. So before I add a few more run-on sentences and overuse words like “really”
and smiley faces, a list of ways to save $ when you start a family:</div>
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<ol>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Start
early.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> Once you know that you are pregnant, start planning. As is often the
case, saving money will take time. The more time you have, the more flexibility
you will have to bargain shop and make things yourself. The first step should
be to decide what matters most to you. Maybe you really want </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">a </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/SIGNATURE-MULTI-FUNCTION-Diaper-F18033-RECEIPT/dp/B0077HWIJU/ref=sr_1_18?s=baby-products&ie=UTF8&qid=1353103840&sr=1-18&keywords=coach+diaper+bag" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Coach
diaper bag</a>, a nice <a href="http://www.target.com/p/bob-revolution-se-single-jogger-stroller/-/A-14176521#prodSlot=medium_1_5">jogging stroller</a>, <span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">a modern looking </span><a href="http://www.potterybarnkids.com/products/skylar-crib/?pkey=bcribs" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Pottery
Barn crib</a> or some nice <a href="http://www.target.com/p/motorola-digital-baby-monitor-3-5-inches-video/-/A-14086054#prodSlot=medium_1_4&term=baby monitors">video baby monitors</a><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. Similar to wedding planning, you need to decide what you want to
spend on and where you are willing to be thrifty. If you are cheap like me,
this is more about deciding what you need to have new and what you are willing
to use second hand. The only things I required new were a car seat (for safety
reasons) and a breast pump (gross).</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Review
health insurance & maternity leave policy.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> Make sure during your open
enrollment that you have the best insurance plan for a hospital stay and if you
can, fund an FSA or HSA to be able to pay the difference. Just as a frame of
reference, we had a pretty normal, two-day hospital experience and before
insurance the bill was around $15k. This doesn’t include the 12 or so doctor’s
appointments I went to during my pregnancy (ultrasound = xrays in cost). Also look into your maternity leave
policy. I haven’t taken a long vacation since 2010 so that I would have about
a month of vacation leave saved up after my 6 weeks of paid sick leave.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Talk to
other moms.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> More experienced people will tell you what they actually needed
and used with their babies. They also may be able to give you these things if
they no longer need them. I got most of my maternity clothes, a crib, a lot of Fiona’s clothes, baby gates, toys and some disposable diapers this way. This is
free and in many cases doing families a favor because they don’t have all of
this junk collecting dust in their house anymore.</span></li>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGc-uyQFp7Qf1E1T7wOyxov9Ncp_AgUlhz20YZFMM2sq_xPBkGXxBQ-y22IfCdGuueyDKHsP5opZqeZed0S5TVumIJYzwrtrCaNnSX6M2RQA_UQifuBv0W4HWJqAspks4Gu_hngvv95I/s1600/DSC_0057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGc-uyQFp7Qf1E1T7wOyxov9Ncp_AgUlhz20YZFMM2sq_xPBkGXxBQ-y22IfCdGuueyDKHsP5opZqeZed0S5TVumIJYzwrtrCaNnSX6M2RQA_UQifuBv0W4HWJqAspks4Gu_hngvv95I/s400/DSC_0057.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Free crib (thanks Teri!)<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Register.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">
I found it helpful to go ahead and set up a registry early. That way you
realize all of the things you will need, research the brands and types you
prefer and can be on the lookout for sales and secondhand items. I ended up taking a lot of things
off of my registry before I even had a shower planned. If you want to save your
family money too, register on Amazon. It is the cheapest place to buy most
things and you get free shipping on any purchases over $25. They also have a
much larger variety of items than Target or Babysrus offer.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Go to
church yard sales.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> Churches usually have nurseries, preschools and in our
case, just a lot of children. Church yard sales are a great place to buy baby
things, especially the ones you aren’t sure will get a lot of use. We got a
humidifier ($3), a </span><a href="http://timdrummond.blogspot.com/2012/09/some-baby-things-that-are-awesome-part.html" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Moby
wrap</a><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> ($5), a high chair ($5), a jogging stroller ($25) and a variety of
clothing and books this way.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Repurpose
furniture</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. Rather than buying nursery specific furniture, use dressers that
you already own for your baby’s clothing and as a changing table. We got a nice
set of dressers on craigslist for free and Tim stained them gray this summer.
That way Fiona or one of our other children can use them for her entire life
rather than replacing baby furniture in two years.</span></li>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICOXVy7CmG8ap0XLrGf6ZXOSwa9dtRijhe1NtXZYoY5k-PcdYOJ67SmKmkXHivA0vDEpdGG3nItDowRKUX3nIdxgfCu4UbLoxd1quq_9JCokUR-zvgL02_PoQQ_FF6KDcM6zdexhVQwE/s1600/DSC_0052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICOXVy7CmG8ap0XLrGf6ZXOSwa9dtRijhe1NtXZYoY5k-PcdYOJ67SmKmkXHivA0vDEpdGG3nItDowRKUX3nIdxgfCu4UbLoxd1quq_9JCokUR-zvgL02_PoQQ_FF6KDcM6zdexhVQwE/s400/DSC_0052.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Dresser/changing table<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">DIY</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">.
In this era of etsy and pinterest, it is pretty easy to find some creative
ideas with exact instructions on how to recreate these items for yourself.
While that may up the pressure to have a theme party and a beautiful nursery,
it also makes it pretty cheap to decorate. Tim & I made all of the
decorations for our nursery. I also had several friends who offered to make artwork
or even paint a mural, so if you aren’t crafty, you may have a friend who would
be happy to give you something decorative in lieu of a shower gift. Same thing applies if you are good at knitting, sewing, etc.</span></li>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFTA53uRAm4Skd-HpxBx1O1X2jznO3R7tDkytPmooH7bolRw8oB6nnMEnvobT3lTABSRsUtNvDtPq0kpUrqc7g_xVVftUr36xp6q-am38bB287X2q73LKcRKwVf5pGV9QwhWP8kCICRI/s1600/DSC_0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFTA53uRAm4Skd-HpxBx1O1X2jznO3R7tDkytPmooH7bolRw8oB6nnMEnvobT3lTABSRsUtNvDtPq0kpUrqc7g_xVVftUr36xp6q-am38bB287X2q73LKcRKwVf5pGV9QwhWP8kCICRI/s400/DSC_0037.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">art by tori</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Breastfeed
if you can</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. Formula is expensive. You can save as much as $3,000
a year in formula, plus decreased </span><a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2010/04/05/us-breastfeeding-study-idUSTRE6342ZG20100405" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">healthcare
costs</a><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> for baby and mother.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Use cloth diapers if you are willing. </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Diapers
are expensive and though cloth diapers are also expensive, they are reusable –
and you can put them on your registry! I was pleasantly surprised that both
Target and Babysrus had the </span><a href="http://www.target.com/p/bumgenius-4-0-snap-2-pack-neutral/-/A-14236956#prodSlot=medium_1_5" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Bumgenius
diapers</a><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> we were planning to use. You will save </span><a href="http://www.diaperco.com/store/pg/90-Cost-Savings-Cloth-Diapers-vs-Disposables.html" style="text-indent: -0.25in;">over
$1000</a><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> if you use cloth diapers.</span></li>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img1.targetimg1.com/wcsstore/TargetSAS//img/p/14/23/14237014_121116163000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://img1.targetimg1.com/wcsstore/TargetSAS//img/p/14/23/14237014_121116163000.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BumGenius diapers that we use</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Don’t buy (full price) stuff before your
showers.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> While the little clothes are tempting to purchase, resist the
urge. You will be surprised by the generosity of family, friends and coworkers
and you may end up with gift cards that you can use to buy registry items you
still need.</span></li>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhViorgfLa4YEX9Fp6s3Q6Q1cmPJXas_v2weT6FW9RKJ2dDXaXbSsQHBxLL1UqNZZ2ZLoR-gBqe8kXXpZZqfkhyphenhyphenssgsM8fSeNum5MofF_rRSlbRXyhYnfyCUwIR-XINKGIwtOnkMCIVL9w/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhViorgfLa4YEX9Fp6s3Q6Q1cmPJXas_v2weT6FW9RKJ2dDXaXbSsQHBxLL1UqNZZ2ZLoR-gBqe8kXXpZZqfkhyphenhyphenssgsM8fSeNum5MofF_rRSlbRXyhYnfyCUwIR-XINKGIwtOnkMCIVL9w/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Fiona had more clothes than I do before she was born.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Don’t buy many clothes for future seasons.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">That cute 6-month summer bathing suit
you bought isn’t going to be very useful when your chubby baby wears 12 month
clothing by May. If you do buy clothes for the future, try to stick with
onesies, one-piece pajamas, etc. that could be worn no matter what the season.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Resell things.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> You may think that a
baby bjorn is going to be the perfect way to carry your baby around while doing
housework, but your baby may disagree. If you find that your baby hates the
carrier, bottles, or bouncy seat that you bought, resell it on Ebay or
Craigslist.</span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>Avoid pink & blue. </b>If you want to have more kids, buy gender neutral things, especially the big ticket items. Our car seat and pack-n-play are grey, our nursery is green, our crib is white.</span></li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>A few other things I'm planning to do in the future to save money include: </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li><o:p>P</o:p>utting money into a daycare FSA so money spent on childcare is pretax. (Dominion has a program where you can put up to $2500 a year into this account. Check with your employer.)</li>
<li>Making my own baby food</li>
<li>Buy clothes at consignment stores. It is so easy to find baby clothes new with tags!</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are lots of other ways to save money, these are just a things few that we did. I would love to hear other ideas in the comments. I'm pretty sure that our kids will be glad they wore second hand clothes if it means that we can spend more time with them and maybe even pay for college. Also, for the record, babies only need food, warm clothing and a
lot of love. They will never notice the rest of this crap. </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-90100557590163932532012-11-28T05:17:00.001-08:002012-11-28T05:17:12.515-08:00Finding a VoiceI didn't start this blog with the intent of making a chronicle of what my daughter is up to all the time. It has more or less been that, partially because a huge part of what I do and think about necessarily has her at the center these days, and partially because writing this blog has served a practical function, and I don't have to recount what's new in Fiona's life as often when I see people - they just say, "I've been reading your blog," and we can skip all that. So that's good. But I'm still kind of missing the point of starting to write in this space, giving myself a voice without parameters.<br />
<br />
Looking back at the posts I've done, it seems like I don't know what sort of voice I want to use here. Sometimes I'm writing in hopes of sharing some profound wisdom or emotional thing. Sometimes it's been from the "Man's Guide to Baby Raisin'" with all the blunt description that goes along with it, and every now and then I seemed to delve into the spiritual, or realize I was going to talk about my experience and not the baby all the time, so I mentioned music or teaching.<br />
<br />
In a way, that jumble sort of makes sense, though, because I am all of those things. Those voices, though disparate, are all authentic and make up how I view the world. The good thing about a blog is that you don't need to use a consistent writing style. Hell, you don't even have to spell things righte or talk good. It's something I like and hate about the medium, and the fact that I'm exercising such flexibility in writing is probably going to limit me from ever having much of a following, should I ever start seeking that out. Though apparently, you can stay at home and make some good money with a well-trafficked blog....<br />
<br />
This space has also taken a back seat lately, because it doesn't have due dates, degrees, or loan payments included in the keystrokes. I'm in the final weeks of writing my master's thesis, and until that's over, it really takes precedence over, well, a lot of things. So I'll be back after Dec. 10 in more regular fashion, most likely.<br />
<br />
In unrelated news, if you're a Richmonder and like beer, <a href="http://www.hardywood.com/content/hardywood-gingerbread-stout">Hardywood Park Brewery</a> has a gingerbread stout for the holiday season that tastes like Christmas - Beer Advocate magazine gave it 100/100. Go get some.<br />
<br />
<br />
Cheers.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-48544409552776931112012-11-13T07:48:00.001-08:002012-11-13T07:48:16.882-08:00Crib-Dwelling, the Northern Lights, and Transition ModeAll of a sudden, the crib isn't as terrible a place as it used to be. This schedule thing, while it's not exactly a magic cure-all, has been pretty successful for getting everyone some sleep in their own beds at night, and for that, some credit needs to go to the genius of a lighted mobile:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROxxiSAuzLgRF9huK98OKUL19wRk37ku9b5qnN12MXG2MTglKjJ4gyiB2eHSGt3Kl9hvMpdnwmw9y82YLPnIbaY6VYTbZrvGEOAkI5noJpaC7VaFOz_x3yjV-TOlcpMnct_V3MKG2sx8/s1600/DSC_0189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROxxiSAuzLgRF9huK98OKUL19wRk37ku9b5qnN12MXG2MTglKjJ4gyiB2eHSGt3Kl9hvMpdnwmw9y82YLPnIbaY6VYTbZrvGEOAkI5noJpaC7VaFOz_x3yjV-TOlcpMnct_V3MKG2sx8/s640/DSC_0189.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Like the Northern Lights over an Alaskan glacier, these softly glowing and swaying orbs of cartoon animal mystique are a breathtaking and awe-inspiring sight for our beholder. Turn it on, and she can go from restless shouting to immediate, wide-eyed stillness, and the shouting and screaming turns into little pre-verbal cooing as she talks to her glowing little friends dancing above her head.<br />
<br />
And, it has a remote, so you can restart it without being seen.<br />
<br />
The whole babies and mobiles pairing is not news to anyone, I know, but I never really appreciated it until we set hers up this past week. And I have to say, I don't only appreciate its utility...I kind of want one myself. Seeing it calmly float in the dark bedroom, gently turning on and off as the spheres shift up and down, it really does create a calming aura. I understand the appeal.<br />
<br />
Tori says we can put it over our bed when Fiona outgrows interest if I want to.<br />
<br />
Mobile-makers: if you stumble upon this post for some reason, here are things I want that this does not deliver:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>An A/C power cord. Nobody has C batteries, and I'm sure they don't last too long.</li>
<li>With a constant power supply, I'd like an adjustable time-out, like my computer screen offers. It doesn't stay on long enough, and I can tell that mine just went off because my child is screaming. Be right back....</li>
<li>The ability play music other than tinkly little lullaby crap all the time. I just have it on mute, and play music from the ipod next to the crib. But you should include an audio input, or wifi connection to play music from your computer.</li>
</ul>
<div>
I'd pay a few bucks more for that. But really, the important part - the magical glowing - is spot on.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In other news, this is Tori's last week at home. Tuesdays and Thursdays are gonna be Dad and Baby. Work days are still a bit tenuous...need to figure out a long-term solution that better accommodates my voice students (and by accommodates, I mean, still makes it worth my while to have someone watching her and I actually make a little money). Stay tuned, this is just getting good.</div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-39809592960631688922012-11-07T14:04:00.002-08:002012-11-07T14:04:23.632-08:00She'll be a little sore...Babies go to the doctor a whole lot. Makes sense - they're quickly growing and developing, and it's good to keep tabs on all that. Fiona had her 2-month appointment on Monday, and she looked great by all measures, so that's good. The thing that made the visit worth mentioning was that she got FIVE vaccines that day, and that's even with us opting to postpone the hepatitis B, so it could have been six.<br />
<br />
Don't ask me what they were, because I don't remember most of them. One was in liquid form, but the other four were done two apiece in each leg.<br />
<br />
I found a new job I don't want: pediatric lab technician. All you do all day is make children scream.<br />
<br />
I took my unsuspecting daughter into the lab (unsuspecting only because she hasn't learned enough about social awareness yet to know that when other children are screaming and crying, things might go poorly for her, as well), and held her while she was stuck and stung by four needles. Of course it was ugly, but I knew ahead of time it would not be a fun trip, and I figured I could handle it just fine. I mean, most nights that I'm up with her, she screams at me for a while before sleeping - it would likely be a lot like that.<br />
<br />
We took her home, and she wasn't herself all day. She slept a good bit, but whenever she woke up, her legs hurt, and it pissed her off. But she'd start kicking her legs, probably making it worse, and subsequently got more angry, confused, and upset. It was a terrible cycle...but again, not unexpected, right?<br />
<br />
I guess my reaction was really the only unexpected part. It was really hard to see her in pain, especially being so young and unable to understand what's going on. She has begun to develop more specific cry sounds, and the one for pain/confusion she used Monday was awful. I know she needed the shots, but man it's going to be terrible when she needs more.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In other news, the whole "impending storm" thing about being on a schedule? Kind of like Hurricane Sandy. I know it's awful for other people, but we largely missed any real damage from it (at least so far). We're already starting to get longer sleep spans at night - go scheduling!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-26795860577652650252012-11-01T09:00:00.002-07:002012-11-01T09:00:58.924-07:00The Gathering StormThis might get ugly, at least for a while. Today, we're starting Fiona on a schedule.<br />
<br />
**DISCLAIMER**<br />
In case I've never told you this in person, or you haven't read it before, I know you already know everything about child-rearing, and I will likely ask for your advice on things sometimes. I also know that there are a great many differing opinions when it comes to babies and schedules. <br />
<br />
This is not one of those times where I'm soliciting advice. You probably did this differently than we are, and it probably worked out great. If there's one thing I've gathered from hearing the plurality of parenting advice out there, it's that as long as you pay attention to the needs of your kid, whatever approach you use will likely work just fine. <br />
<br />
<br />
So the idea, in brief, is that life will work in 3-hour increments, starting when Fiona wakes up in the morning:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Get changed as soon as time starts, to help wake up. </li>
<ul>
<li>This bears much resemblance to my dad's wake-up method when I was in school, which was to turn on the lights and pull my covers off, so I know it works.</li>
</ul>
<li>Eat.</li>
<li>Stay awake until midway through the 3-hour cycle. </li>
<ul>
<li>This could be tricky, but we're trying to do stimulating things right after eating - dancing around with music, tactile stuff, anything engaging.</li>
</ul>
<li>Ramp that down as you hit the 1.5 hour mark, then it's nap time for the second half of the cycle.</li>
<ul>
<li>This is tricky, too. How do you make a baby sleep if they're not tired? Especially one like ours who does NOT sleep in a crib yet? In this first 3-hour cycle, <a href="http://timdrummond.blogspot.com/2012/09/some-baby-things-that-are-awesome-part.html">the wrap</a> did the trick. We hope that, given a couple of cycles, she'll start getting tired when it's time to get tired.</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are two major snags in this plan: eating and sleeping (which are two of the three or so things Fiona does in life). Right now, they happen whenever she wants. Delays in either result in a pissed off baby, usually pretty quickly. So for this to work, there will inevitably be times in the coming days where she gets really mad at us for things like putting her in a crib, or not giving her more to eat 45 minutes after she just ate. The "rules" are not set in stone, of course, but we'll try to stick to it as best we can.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So knowing that this could get ugly for a couple days, we're going for it. Hopefully the payoff will be a baby sleeping through the night soon!</div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-41846702957123613672012-10-23T20:29:00.001-07:002012-10-23T20:29:24.898-07:00The Magic of a Photo ShootIn general, I don't like paying someone else to do something that I could do (or learn to do) myself, provided there's not too much risk of bodily harm, excessive damage to property, or huge drains on my money or time. For most of my life, I've felt that way about paying a photographer.<br />
<br />
The only time I'd paid someone to take my picture was at my wedding, and I tried to get Tori to agree to have one of my aspiring photographer friends in college do it on the cheap. No dice. We paid lots of money, and got nice photos...fine.<br />
<br />
Well now many of those aspiring college friends have their own successful businesses, and don't work on the cheap anymore. And now that we have a baby, Tori really wanted to do a photo shoot with her as a little one. Though we just bought and are learning to use our own DSLR camera, I agreed to hire our friend Ali, knowing that she does take MUCH better pictures than either of us can, and that way we can both be in them. Really, those were the only two things I could think of to justify paying someone to take our pictures.<br />
<br />
First of all, check out Ali's work on her website: <a href="http://alisandraphoto.com/blog/">Alisandra Photography</a>. She's awesome.<br />
<br />
Both of my assumptions were true, but a tripod can let us all be in the picture, too. The reason you should hire Ali for a photo shoot like that is the atmosphere she created in order to get those pictures, and the details you would never think to pay attention to.<br />
<br />
Ali lived at our house for a few weeks when we first bought it, while doing an internship in town. In my mind, that means she knows how to drive there (in actuality, I ended up texting her my address). In reality, it meant she knew how the house has good natural light in the morning, and wanted to make sure we shot early in the day.<br />
<br />I always hold Fiona with my left arm. Doing the opposite is like brushing your teeth with the other hand. But in this picture, Ali had me switch Fiona's direction, to get better light on her face:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYllwwiopugUiM6Ywz_b_GUzNe0mxcFiUfxOiNje8FpXqDQBeojhT4QO_cJ5WT0eXlIClKqacT_EAxCoiPuaBAPgcJpgWB71XlGxHaJPxbCaToWS2UajWclVNA-WtBp_jXDddQ54CgXE/s1600/318932_10100675289406426_779890772_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsYllwwiopugUiM6Ywz_b_GUzNe0mxcFiUfxOiNje8FpXqDQBeojhT4QO_cJ5WT0eXlIClKqacT_EAxCoiPuaBAPgcJpgWB71XlGxHaJPxbCaToWS2UajWclVNA-WtBp_jXDddQ54CgXE/s400/318932_10100675289406426_779890772_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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Tori and I had a few ideas of photos we wanted to try, like laying on an open book:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjidOXfdcWCewA4AeTfcOcswBsdogXloep6VzRCcek0CZ99zYjB8TiiQbgmmRIu2-kzYpIUxePa5zYw1t3ugPzw3SxYGV7EhsH5AmB3lwnv0iwLaCWbjvboLFLJWWg4nStuWgj6G78kZs/s1600/318935_10100675289211816_251604611_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjidOXfdcWCewA4AeTfcOcswBsdogXloep6VzRCcek0CZ99zYjB8TiiQbgmmRIu2-kzYpIUxePa5zYw1t3ugPzw3SxYGV7EhsH5AmB3lwnv0iwLaCWbjvboLFLJWWg4nStuWgj6G78kZs/s400/318935_10100675289211816_251604611_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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What you don't know is, Fiona was not a peaceful little lovely angel for this whole book session. Books are not soft and fluffy, like <i>everything</i> else in a baby's life, and she wasn't pleased about being on one. But Ali masterfully captured the milliseconds of pleasant peaceful little angel, and made that look easy.</div>
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And laying on the piano while I play:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJVqVpsEW9hD1X3c3eMEP3rMBL3SzQEPJ1X4IQZtu6Add3p0kiQcl-1vao401j_63_taghgIqfxxvf4Ut5IrlKmCZwzRbmqU0jZy7QgZJv8-kIiZPWiO3o5ZGkhKkjQw0_ovcapP4PNE/s1600/22498_10100675291986256_554431833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidJVqVpsEW9hD1X3c3eMEP3rMBL3SzQEPJ1X4IQZtu6Add3p0kiQcl-1vao401j_63_taghgIqfxxvf4Ut5IrlKmCZwzRbmqU0jZy7QgZJv8-kIiZPWiO3o5ZGkhKkjQw0_ovcapP4PNE/s400/22498_10100675291986256_554431833_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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This was my favorite part of the morning. They put her up on top just right, and she thankfully stayed asleep. Ali draped the blanket to create a better shot, and just had me start playing. I started out playing what was in front of me, but ended up improvising on hymn tunes, with the faint 'click' of a camera shutter punctuating the music. She adjusted, she changed angles and lenses, and Fiona and I were in our moment, unaware. That room is NOT that bright, but she knew how to make the best of the light from the window. And when she was done, she didn't just announce that she had what she needed, she just stopped shooting, and let me finish the tune I was on, knowing that you can't leave the phrase unfinished.</div>
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She did other great things too - accommodated two well-behaved but excited dogs, stopped and let us feed Fiona before doing the last bit, and encouraged us to actually talk to each other, smile, move as we would if we weren't being photographed. No real posing here, no "turn your head a little more, look up, hands just so" kind of crap, and the pictures show it. And none of this even mentions all the time editing and sending a great finished product.</div>
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So I stand corrected. It's totally worth paying a good photographer -thanks Ali!</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-22841324724824903222012-10-20T19:18:00.002-07:002012-10-20T19:18:56.480-07:00In Appreciation of Nursing MothersLast night was the first time I've done any overnight feeding for the baby. The bottle thing has been working out just fine, but since milk production sleeps for no woman, Tori has been getting up for all the overnight eating sessions.<br />
<br />
I usually defer to Tori for the nightly plan of who's getting baby duty first, but lately she's just been doing most of the night time stuff, and I'll get up around 5:30 or 6:00...not a bad gig, really, and not all that different from when I used to teach so far from home, except that instead of driving 70 miles, I make coffee and drink it from a mug without a lid (one of my favorite simple pleasures in life).<br />
<br />
Last night, though, I did my usual deference, and she said it would be most helpful if she could make us a bottle and go to bed, let me do one round of feeding, and then swap out the next time. So we went for it. Fiona and I went to sleep on the couch, baby-on-chest, around 10:30, and woke up to eat again around 1:00am.<br />
<br />
<br />
Man, that sucks.<br />
<br />
<br />
I don't gain full alertness quickly when I wake up. Incidentally, that appears to be a trait I passed on, as evidenced by the myriad strange faces, sounds, hand positions, and stretches Fiona does when she wakes up:<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SnT5EJ20h0sYBUp2zFnv-8AVlyx66GwdCEnvTBmU7iGJyyDtvR9FMEirsZtpMMkZ4ipvf6h4HLupP4JJAaS8wAfVXzznM01wWgb0z3ma0G01pZ-3WWE4gl3gSVNTMEEwAiEd5TTkENM/s1600/DSC_0087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SnT5EJ20h0sYBUp2zFnv-8AVlyx66GwdCEnvTBmU7iGJyyDtvR9FMEirsZtpMMkZ4ipvf6h4HLupP4JJAaS8wAfVXzznM01wWgb0z3ma0G01pZ-3WWE4gl3gSVNTMEEwAiEd5TTkENM/s640/DSC_0087.JPG" width="640" /></a>I'd prepared for this, though, and tried to simplify the process by having the bottle right next to us. It turned out it's not so easy.<br />
<br />
1) Reposition self and baby. Use pillow to prop baby in case you fall asleep again.<br />
2) Insert bottle.<br />
3) Watch baby flail arms, hitting self in face repeatedly. Try to block arms from knocking bottle out of mouth.<br />
4) Baby gets pissed when bottle gets knocked out by baby's own doing.<br />
5) Change baby when she starts falling asleep, but hasn't eaten enough yet.<br />
6) Rinse (in milk, because baby is both drooling and mashing on the end of the bottle), repeat.<br />
<br />
<br />
This whole process took about 30 minutes, though it felt like eternity. I'd just gotten deep enough into sleep that it was really hard to get back out, and kept dropping the bottle. When I changed her, I mis-snapped most of her outfit, leaving a foot dangling out and the top half open (not that I ever realized this; Tori saw and laughed at me when we changed the guard).<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, through all of this I realized two things:<br />
<br />
1) Tori has been doing this several times a night since Fiona was born. That makes her much more awesome than I am, and than I realized. She doesn't even miss snaps at night.<br />
<br />
From what I hear, even when babies start sleeping all night, nursing moms still often get up to pump in the middle of the night. I suppose that comes without the flailing and all, but it's still breaking up your sleep. Now that I've done it once, my hat's off to you. I'll probably keep doing it, but the second realization I had was:<br />
<br />
2) We need her to sleep all the way through the night, and soon!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-55521959549120443232012-10-12T20:20:00.002-07:002012-10-12T20:20:40.577-07:00Just The Two of UsWe made it! All day with dad and daughter.<br />
<br />
I wanted to write about it, and figured there'd be great blog post fodder from a day by ourselves, but I think I'm encouraged by how little there is to write home about. We had bottles at the ready, and made out just fine. There are some highlights, though...<br />
<br />
<br />
I didn't get up with lots of time before Tori left, and she was getting ready anyway, so I didn't get dressed for the day til we were alone. Fiona had fallen asleep, so I thought I'd try putting her in her crib long enough to throw some jeans on and maybe brush my teeth...but when I put her down, she just laid there. Opportunity doesn't knock often, and my hair was a hot mess (it's longer than I've had it before, I have to start noticing at some point)...so inspiration struck.<br />
<br />
I slid the crib right into the bathroom doorway, where I could lean out of the shower and check on her. But she just laid there sleeping, for maybe the third time ever. She woke up and started crying as I was fastening my belt afterwards...perfect timing to start a great day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuXmq4sj7TRTIRJKqoviPA-rYbPwyvBS8a86DIvAnZlvY0W0_fEU7k0ziISEOuvvzzi494XBTjvU0AulAn1DKt4pB6aRUyY5FOI11z8iNm17_XBVObJMvfPgi1b0IbBnuPc-Kj_ZODGQ/s1600/2012-10-11+09.33.23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuXmq4sj7TRTIRJKqoviPA-rYbPwyvBS8a86DIvAnZlvY0W0_fEU7k0ziISEOuvvzzi494XBTjvU0AulAn1DKt4pB6aRUyY5FOI11z8iNm17_XBVObJMvfPgi1b0IbBnuPc-Kj_ZODGQ/s640/2012-10-11+09.33.23.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
We made a trip to church for a meeting, went to school and did some paperwork I forgot to do the day before, stopped at the bank, and did everything without any major incident. I took a break and fed her in a computer lab at school, and changed her in the music room office, as well as in the back seat of the car, but it all worked out just fine.<br />
<br />
I got relatively little "done," but that's par for the course, and more importantly, I had a good time toting a baby around, and Tori got to get out of the house. It was good training for when she goes back to work.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-7500232976275150402012-10-11T10:27:00.001-07:002012-10-11T10:27:10.815-07:00DadI originally intended this blog to be more focused on my experience as a father/musician/teacher, but it's quickly shifted all of its attention onto my daughter. I guess that's a fair model of how life has been for the last five weeks, but it's still useful for me, and hopefully insightful for you, to take stock of my own goings-on:<br />
<br />
I've barely even brought it up, but I did end up finding a new high school choral job, but it's part-time. For now, that's working, because I can stay up until 2am on a weeknight and still be able to function when my work day is smaller...we'll see what happens long term. I may have a post or two just about my school, because while it's a small job, it's an incredible place to teach, and I love what I get to do there.<br />
<br />
I only work three days a week, and not full ones at that. So when we talked about my career path for the fall, I wanted to maintain connections and involvement in the local music scene, keeping myself sharp, staying in others' minds to get gigs, etc. So I have quite a lot going on, musically speaking:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Giving private voice lessons out of our house (looking for a couple more students if you know someone!)</li>
<li>singing with James River Singers, an auditioned chamber choir</li>
<li>forming a Richmond area a cappella group</li>
<li>finishing a Master's degree in Music Education</li>
<li>singing in the Faculty Lounge Lizards, a band made of my school's staff</li>
<li>playing music at my church</li>
<li>taking infrequent performing opportunities at local churches</li>
</ul>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIH133JIX8q-gvWLkE1JbcMA4DBxsoKtG4yfz90C2ltsmP75VK8fYhy8dX1ZkFDi9IHIfqQJi72OsKo7miVFLCEnAofO7Q1_iH8YQ-bXJRxSeSVwAvpC8sMZdmJDX-he0j7BjMc0Tg3gs/s1600/DSC_0107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIH133JIX8q-gvWLkE1JbcMA4DBxsoKtG4yfz90C2ltsmP75VK8fYhy8dX1ZkFDi9IHIfqQJi72OsKo7miVFLCEnAofO7Q1_iH8YQ-bXJRxSeSVwAvpC8sMZdmJDX-he0j7BjMc0Tg3gs/s640/DSC_0107.jpg" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My youngest student.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Has fatherhood changed me? Sure, but I don't think I know many of the ways yet. I can say it's given me both a newfound capacity for love, and a greater awareness of my selfishness. Sometimes I can't make her calm and satisfied, and while she hopefully won't writhe and scream continuously about it when she's a teenager, that is probably a permanent limitation of fatherhood. The good thing about it, especially now, is that it reminds me that I can't do this alone. Tori and I are flawed, have limits to our patience, experience, and abilities, and we need to know that God loves Fiona, too, and ultimately will provide for her needs, whether through us or not. So that's cool.<br />
<br />
<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />I'm also a lot less emotionally stable. I attribute at least part of this to our weird sleep patterns. I've cried watching a movie, and even a movie trailer. Fairly mundane setbacks will send me into about 30 minutes of utter despair before I realize that life has, in fact, gone on. Basically, I'm either on top of the world, or life is not worth living, most of the time, and usually several of each in a given day.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFQVI_SwjN3Ox0j-imzlciL8Dwa8DKdwSydb5RMFVLL6bHnquSFLkwMZimDhyphenhyphenU93zKQMyLg2U6BcdMmkAMUcEaAzMkaHi2iUluQLGY5FaON98AbC7zcE7fmpLOfmQwV64B-hhmxxdWhg/s1600/200px-LesMisLogo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFQVI_SwjN3Ox0j-imzlciL8Dwa8DKdwSydb5RMFVLL6bHnquSFLkwMZimDhyphenhyphenU93zKQMyLg2U6BcdMmkAMUcEaAzMkaHi2iUluQLGY5FaON98AbC7zcE7fmpLOfmQwV64B-hhmxxdWhg/s1600/200px-LesMisLogo.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This trailer gets me every time...it's been my favorite book since 7th grade, can't wait to see the new film version!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
This post took 3 days to write, because you can't do anything with a baby. More on that in my next one, should it ever get written.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-85061203936990689902012-10-04T21:16:00.001-07:002012-10-04T21:16:24.447-07:00On BottlesI don't like milk. <br />
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<br />
My oldest memory of milk is from when I was 4 years old at day-care with my first friend, Kyle. I hated milk and he hated applesauce, and one day those were the two offerings at snack time. We each sat defiantly at our place after everyone left, refusing to submit ourselves to the torture in that little bathroom cup (only years later did it occur to me that we could have secretly switched our cups, and everyone would have gone away happy). Later, when mom used to make me drink milk, I'd come up with an excuse to go to the bathroom, conveniently bring my glass, and pour it in the toilet (that slick move worked exactly three times). Anyway, milk is gross.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWiTc5qyWihyphenhyphenT6F3C4sOLJgtMa9otHLyFo99ktzbQVSJlDmfoSj-LIAvvpeOrKkAIKFgS6WaBYKizcMfpub5G0bcwEmiiBKy5OwDymeKbEp4MtEF0rIgOmx_l3TZiRizAm9MIBkug2x9g/s1600/4726511_std.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWiTc5qyWihyphenhyphenT6F3C4sOLJgtMa9otHLyFo99ktzbQVSJlDmfoSj-LIAvvpeOrKkAIKFgS6WaBYKizcMfpub5G0bcwEmiiBKy5OwDymeKbEp4MtEF0rIgOmx_l3TZiRizAm9MIBkug2x9g/s320/4726511_std.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No milk will ever be "our" milk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I think it's really cool that Tori's body just manufactures nourishment for our baby, but I wish she could somehow make bread boogers, or peanut butter earwax, or something other than milk. Up until yesterday, though, I was removed from that part of life, so it was fine. Like cleaning out a cloth diaper, though, I knew it was in my future, and now, the day has come. As a result of my experience last night and today, I offer you...<br />
<br />
<br />
Feeding Babies Breast Milk from a Bottle: Tips for Beginners:<br />
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<br />
<ul>
<li>Don't watch your lady pump the milk. This is another example of a female body part you'll want fonder memories of.</li>
<li>Since it's milk, you have to refrigerate it. But babies usually drink it warm, so you need to warm it up...so far, so good. But here's the kicker: apparently you CAN'T MICROWAVE IT. No idea why, but it seems really important.</li>
<ul>
<li>My method right now is, microwave a coffee cup with water in it, then float the bottle in the hot water. There must be a more efficient way. I bet they make a bottle-warmer.</li>
</ul>
<li>Have some kind of rag at the ready, this gets messy, immediately.</li>
<li>Bottles deliver the goods faster than boobs do, so I found it useful to only let her suck on it for a second or two, take it away til she swallowed, and then do it again. Maybe it takes longer, but it seemed less likely that she'd erupt milk all over me.</li>
<li>Don't get rid of that rag too quickly - more of that crap might come up after she's done eating, even if she burped. And it's worse when it comes back up, trust me.</li>
</ul>
<br />
Overall, I didn't really love my experience. BUT we were successful. And today, the bottle allowed Tori to be away from the baby and fully-clothed for a whole four hours! So the utility of my new ability is worth the discomfort, kind of how I feel about flying.<br />
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We're gearing up for next week, when she's planning to be away for the whole day. You can bet there'll be something to write home about from that day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-43545819975817078622012-10-03T14:28:00.004-07:002012-10-03T14:28:47.004-07:00One Month!Fiona is one month old today! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UOsqhIDXB-Ny6etcsOVs55e0i1HIO3iMfMa8uJXwgZiBda6xyr8DphAnszzjWlpzkYczTkLc6M1b2SgBDOcXtPfj2Hh3KBHiAnn5WE-sPzORoWAe2tfT6ep1pa7xKcbqqQvdIXf1Vrw/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9UOsqhIDXB-Ny6etcsOVs55e0i1HIO3iMfMa8uJXwgZiBda6xyr8DphAnszzjWlpzkYczTkLc6M1b2SgBDOcXtPfj2Hh3KBHiAnn5WE-sPzORoWAe2tfT6ep1pa7xKcbqqQvdIXf1Vrw/s640/DSC_0033.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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There's two more pounds and another inch-and-a-half of her to love. I would say, "that was fast," but this past month has been a bit of a timeless blur. I've told people that our weird sleep patterns have an effect really similar to jet lag, and Tori describes it like Groundhog Day. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsW2SNIjNnMjhQ2DamIqTNSGIoOyCxqyX3gwvP-9Ut-POJyUApzw8fGseKys8H6PN_dmebHSpgeHzeCac-qdJAjwPqnuMWgTEMi4NXMfJykWtXRlKw0ULuq1JciFOkIkb0tXO_J46ICI/s1600/groundhog_day.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgsW2SNIjNnMjhQ2DamIqTNSGIoOyCxqyX3gwvP-9Ut-POJyUApzw8fGseKys8H6PN_dmebHSpgeHzeCac-qdJAjwPqnuMWgTEMi4NXMfJykWtXRlKw0ULuq1JciFOkIkb0tXO_J46ICI/s1600/groundhog_day.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fiona is a little less hairy than the groundhog; Tori is a little more so than Bill Murray. The idea is the same.</td></tr>
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<div>
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One thing I've learned about having a baby is that people stop saying hello to you. <br />
<br />
"Baby!" <br />
"Oh, Fiona's here!"<br />
"Look at her!"<br />
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These are some examples of the words that have replaced more traditional greetings, such as "hi."<br />
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<div>
On the whole, though, I really like parenthood so far. It's still bizarre that we are responsible for a little human life, but that task is kind of easy, really. For those of you who, like me before Labor Day, had no real experience with tiny babies, let me clear things up for you. If an infant needs something, it will come from this list:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
-Sleep</div>
<div>
-Food</div>
<div>
-Clean clothes/diaper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The end. Oh, and they can't hold their heads up, so you have to do that. But really, that's all. Can't go anywhere, can't mess with stuff, can't backtalk, they sleep 18+ hours a day, and don't even eat real food. Give them a bath every couple of days. There, that's my lesson on the first month.</div>
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Up until the last few days, she pretty much did not cry unless the above list was out of balance. Now she's a bit testy...I think sometimes babies just get pissed off, like other people.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqY1aEZZpRMjRy_04Knhffotd88_DLiu7AAGF1rW2KwRf9uYl1rkAiW9wI_QvMsZVIomk-0yrKCqcEeyQ3yDqxnWoW-4HqdPM4c2WELAAhsApR6q8czm1WAT_3pHFkqpuHE8RjBMOpxAo/s1600/DSC_0062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqY1aEZZpRMjRy_04Knhffotd88_DLiu7AAGF1rW2KwRf9uYl1rkAiW9wI_QvMsZVIomk-0yrKCqcEeyQ3yDqxnWoW-4HqdPM4c2WELAAhsApR6q8czm1WAT_3pHFkqpuHE8RjBMOpxAo/s640/DSC_0062.jpg" width="424" /></a><br />
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<div>
Tori and I can watch her make awesomely grotesque faces when she wakes up, make endless commentary about her gigantic farts, narrate what we assume to be her inner monologue, and mimic her weird hand positions for hours. And we fully realize that you, dear reader, don't give a crap about any of it, so we try our best not to fill conversations with descriptions of those mundane joys of our life. Those are joys that are relevant ONLY to the parents of a given kid. I might make a weird face montage one day and post it on here to embarrass her later in life and to entertain you, but only if it's actually funny.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxxyDrxp6ETc9BC_ZDHBBpiMOenLurs6A-B7f8TCllsDCIuEqcQZYRjZScGNRRjsTXnNeM8iyHnR95jIQk3SXghLfJgXu1KmItVYu67i9TqE-uCCW-y3j8rmgNLOm-I2CaSe1Sac1wB0/s1600/DSC_0056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxxyDrxp6ETc9BC_ZDHBBpiMOenLurs6A-B7f8TCllsDCIuEqcQZYRjZScGNRRjsTXnNeM8iyHnR95jIQk3SXghLfJgXu1KmItVYu67i9TqE-uCCW-y3j8rmgNLOm-I2CaSe1Sac1wB0/s320/DSC_0056.jpg" width="212" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSDw2tBJDZpt1xYNn_bVYGjWkpbGTdwKBfdZlaRoQrEA27Hc1jJ9mKNBlfIJjxDkNIYIhnDDmmxnwm_h3NiHCdcfEAT3RQr4IBf6WeKPU9yPWvo02NVVSygyet3YxlQCIVmsvhyphenhyphen9wp64/s1600/DSC_0026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjSDw2tBJDZpt1xYNn_bVYGjWkpbGTdwKBfdZlaRoQrEA27Hc1jJ9mKNBlfIJjxDkNIYIhnDDmmxnwm_h3NiHCdcfEAT3RQr4IBf6WeKPU9yPWvo02NVVSygyet3YxlQCIVmsvhyphenhyphen9wp64/s320/DSC_0026.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really cute, but not funny. You don't care about the caption I might invent for this, and you don't need to see the seven other pictures taken within 2 minutes of this one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
It's awesome watching Tori being a great mom. She's a real pro. Being a father has changed me, I know, but I want to take a little more time to reflect on that, and it'll be the subject of another post.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-2806731100576729712012-09-26T20:10:00.002-07:002012-09-27T20:23:01.535-07:00Lies That Target Told Me<div style="text-align: left;">
I first saw this a few weeks ago when I made a Target trip for my wife, and a nursing bra was on the list. That really should have been its own post, because it was a pretty iconic event: man goes to the store 30 minutes before closing to buy a nursing bra, the little pads that keep milk from soaking through to everything on earth, baby wipes, etc, with no woman or baby along for the ride. But I digress.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
If you're unfamiliar with just what a nursing bra is, as I was, here's the idea: the front has this quick release hook system going on, instead of being sewn into the straps and whatnot. Just pop the hook, and you've got easy access to feed that baby. </div>
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So here's the picture above the nursing bras at Target:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFUtXzF2jf6-6HKcj57LizjQ2B-0PEMn-ko0YM9RGIEjTsBmSufbnUFbN4t9gDECtiPFFOGYF_0O3pm9TIsjT7V9ioO86trawUfSjgXeXVmn2clnlXWgn04sJ1FVRywlkKr_gWvlmcfUI/s1600/2012-09-26+21.24.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFUtXzF2jf6-6HKcj57LizjQ2B-0PEMn-ko0YM9RGIEjTsBmSufbnUFbN4t9gDECtiPFFOGYF_0O3pm9TIsjT7V9ioO86trawUfSjgXeXVmn2clnlXWgn04sJ1FVRywlkKr_gWvlmcfUI/s640/2012-09-26+21.24.08.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm sorry if this is a disappointment or otherwise comes as news to you. But if you look like that, <i>you do not require a nursing bra.</i> Look at those abs. They did not recently have a child not-so-hidden behind and around them. Stretch marks? What stretch marks? She's well-rested, made up, hair done, tanned, and from the "come hither" stare in her eyes, she's about to give a little peep show, not breastfeed.</div>
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I've thought about this ridiculous picture enough times that tonight, when I went to Target, I made a special trip to the nursing bra section just to get this picture. It's not only ridiculous, it's wrong.</div>
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I love my wife, and I think she is beautiful. I also know that 3 1/2 weeks after giving birth is probably not going to be the best-looking or best-feeling time of her life. <i>AND THAT IS OK.</i> See, she doesn't have to be tanned and toned, made up and trimmed, ready to shoot me a seductive, smoldering glance at all times. But Target, and nearly any other place she's likely to see a picture of a woman, wants her to believe she does. And they want me to believe that's what I should expect.</div>
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This woman is beautiful. And false. She's not nursing, and she's photoshopped into perfection in a studio. This woman does not exist in real life, and I hate that our culture wants my wife, my daughter, you, and me, to believe that she is real and should be what we strive for or expect.</div>
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This post could easily turn into a tirade on sexism and objectification of women in popular culture, but who needs that? Know that I know, and know that you know. And I hope that any new moms that see this image at Target can laugh at its ridiculousness, instead of cry because you don't look like her.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-66349765502674470282012-09-25T19:56:00.000-07:002012-09-25T20:09:56.298-07:00Some Baby Things That Are Awesome, Part IINow that I have a baby, I can add another thing or two to this list.<br />
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First of all, I want to confirm that the <a href="http://timdrummond.blogspot.com/2012/08/some-baby-things-are-awesome-part-i.html">rainbow glow worm sack thing</a> is, in fact, awesome. Now to the new product reviews (I should look for some ad money here...)<br />
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<b>THIS LARGE PIECE OF BLACK CLOTH (MOBY WRAP)</b><br />
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I've seen this before a few times in public, and thought people looked pretty stupid - though not nearly so silly as when they're wearing <a href="http://www.babybjorn.com/us/products/baby-carriers/baby-carrier-original/classic/">this thing</a>. Even so, I judged people for using them. "Not gonna use a stroller right now? How about carry your baby, you lazy parent?"<br />
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Why would you ever need this?<br />
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Because even little babies are heavy as crap in about 10 minutes, that's why. Or maybe you might want to do, I dunno, <i>anything else</i> other than hold your baby every now and then.<br />
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Enter the Moby Wrap (though the name isn't quite as stupid as <a href="http://timdrummond.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-cons.html">many other baby products</a>, I prefer to simply call it "the wrap" in practice). While the tag says it's made of cotton, it's actually made of magical baby-pass-out cloth, because that's what it does, immediately. Baby's pissed? In the wrap she goes, and we're done!<br />
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It's 5 1/2 yards of thick fabric, maybe 2 feet wide. That's it. But just as a true Drummond can turn six yards of plaid into a glorious display of clan identity and genital freedom, this thing gets swung over a shoulder here, crossed over a chest there, tied off at the waist, and <i>voila</i>! Your baby slides into a holding sack that is awesome. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aye, now there's a Drummond! Now if only we could carry the wee lass in that tartan.....</td></tr>
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I'm wearing a sleeping Fiona right now. Why? Because I can type a ton faster with two hands. Because I can refill my drink. And pee. Because she loves being against my chest anyway. I might even use it in public. Maybe.<br />
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Target sells this thing for about $45, presumably because it actually <i>is </i>made of magical baby-pass-out cloth, as I suspected, and not cotton. I got mine, brand new with stickers and the like, at a yard sale for $10. Another reason why it's awesome.<br />
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<b>HOODED TOWELS</b><br />
I have been jealous of babies for years about hooded towels, but until now, it's all been speculation. They seemed like a good idea, but man, they are a GREAT idea.<br />
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So one thing I learned about babies is that they don't regulate their body temperature too well at first, so when you bathe them they get really pissed about it because (a) you can't immerse them in water until that nasty umbilical cord stump falls off, so (b) they're cold as balls because you made them wet.<br />
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Enter the hooded towel. A totally enveloped baby is a happier baby, and the hood helps keep them warmer until you dry them off better and get ready for some skin-to-skin warming time. This has been some of my best time with Fiona, because Tori has bathed her (and subsequently pissed her off) every time, but I've been ready to snuggle her up close and get her warm again. Daddy saves the day, and hooded towel gets honorable mention.<br />
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I don't really need to be telling you about them, because I have this:<br />
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Yep, that's Fiona expertly swaddled in a hooded Tigger towel. Everything about this is good. They need to make adult sized ones, though, because I am still a bit jealous.<br />
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And even though he's already made the blog twice, he deserves a spot on this list:<br />
<b>THE JABBERWOCK</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, you know, she's just in uffish thought.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-56587692017195462802012-09-20T14:25:00.002-07:002012-09-20T14:26:37.812-07:00What I Learned Today:Do not switch to cloth diapers when your child is too small for her legs to fill the leg holes completely.<br />
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I've been pooped on twice today. The first time, I'd just gotten home, and, excited to see my little girl awake, picked her up and set her in my lap, in time for her to DESTROY her diaper, and both of our clothes. It was awesome. Bath time all around, and since the umbilical cord stump came off earlier today, Tori decided that post-bath was a perfect time to break out the cloth diapers.<br />
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You may already know that this was nearly the only thing I've been afraid of as a parent. I'm sure you can imagine my enthusiastic agreement.<br />
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"It goes all the way up past her belly button, she's not gonna blow it out," she said.<br />
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"See how many sizes you can adjust it to? We can make it really tiny," she said.<br />
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"It'll be fine," she said.<br />
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Then, she left.<br />
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Within 10 minutes, I heard the rumble, and felt an all-too-familiar warmth on my arm.<br />
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It was only when changing her into another cloth diaper that I noticed the problem: while I could indeed get the waist as tight as I like, the leg holes were a bit too roomy, even on the smallest snaps. We all know what happens next. So baby is back in the disposables.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-60902065123615138602012-09-18T10:05:00.002-07:002012-09-25T20:19:28.803-07:00Reclaiming Fatherhood, or Some Other Equally Impressive Title Regarding an Unrealistically Complex Issue for a Blog PostOne of the ways my pride manifests itself is a strong desire never to let anyone point out a shortcoming or mistake without having already pointed it out myself. If I dressed in a hurry, and put on a brown belt with my black shoes, I'll make sure to point it out to you, so that you have no opportunity to ridicule me first, and so that you won't leave questioning my ability to dress myself. That's a dumb example, but a true one, and it happens at all levels of importance in my life. So the unnecessarily long post title is a continuation of that defense mechanism - of course, it's ridiculous to think that in a single blog post, I can identify exactly what's wrong with our collective idea of manhood and offer a solution. I want to point that absurdity out before you think it, and maybe even diffuse the situation with a bit of humor so that I don't come off as overly defensive. So now that we're all on the same page, let's continue. I start you with this:<br />
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First of all, this is funny. But it's funny for the same reason that <i>Seinfeld</i> was so funny: because it's satirizing what we have grown to collectively accept to be true. This is what men do...manly things. But we also recognize (at least many of us do) that you don't have to constantly be taming wild beasts, eating red meat, and shooting things to be a "man." We still look up to the figure caricatured in the MANtage, but we don't think he's all that realistic. This is the man we've begun to think of as more "real:"</div>
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<br /><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/V_CmBsi17_0/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/V_CmBsi17_0&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/V_CmBsi17_0&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
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Modern Family's Phil Dunphy is the latest iteration of the inept father figure we've come to know and laugh at, from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qk-4vZy2btY">Al Bundy</a>, to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJRBQRwg1pI">Homer Simpson</a>, to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvbxPsV32Gs">Peter Griffin</a>. Over the last few decades, it seems like our culture has accepted the idea that the father is the comic relief in the family, while mothers run the household.</div>
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Phil Dunphy is subservient to Claire, who is the responsible one. He comes up with stupid ideas that she has to re-ground in reality. She does all the parenting, while he focuses on trying (and failing) to be cool to his children. He shares a tight bond with his equally-strange son, who serves as his comic relief co-star, but he doesn't have the faintest hints of understanding either of his daughters. A large part of his time and energy at home is devoted to trying to cover up or clean up a problem he created. He loves his wife and children, and aside from making frequent passes at his father-in-law's attractive Colombian wife, he's fiercely loyal to his family. In almost every other way, though, he is a total failure when it comes to displaying the marks of manliness and fatherhood. And we eat it up! In my almost absurdly busy life, Modern Family is the only show I make sure to catch every week. So it is the <i>Seinfeld </i>principle at work again? Do we believe that the world (at least the suburban middle-class American version of it) is filled with Phil Dunphy?</div>
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I don't have any degrees to back up my claims, but it seems logical to me that our own fathers often serve as the first (and maybe most deeply rooted) model of fatherhood. As a Christian, my ideal for manhood and fatherhood is taken from the Bible (for example, <a href="http://www.esvbible.org/Ephesians+5.22-33/">this</a>) and from the teachings of the Church. A man is meant to lead his wife and his family in practical matters, as well as leading them spiritually. That does NOT mean I have to make more money than Tori, make all the decisions myself, or that she's somehow less than me. Anyone who knows her knows that she's not any of those things. But you get a sense of what I'm talking about here. And none of it is present in the Phil Dunphys of popular culture. It's not just Phil - be on the lookout this fall as Christmas commercials ramp up - you'll see a whole host of un-engaged, inept fathers bumbling their way across your screen.</div>
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I write this tirade now, not because I've just noticed how men are emasculated or falsely masculine-ized in our culture - I've pointed this out to young men for several years, and will likely continue all my life. I bring it up, because I'm writing this with a 2-week-old baby sleeping in my lap, and I want her to have a model of fatherhood that is better than that. Fiona will need a dad who understands her, who leads her and instructs her, tells her no and means it, protects her, screens her dates, helps with her homework, prays with and for her, and who loves her. I want it to start now.</div>
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I'm also writing this during our first time alone together - Tori is out to lunch with a friend. She asked me, almost hesitantly, if I felt OK with her by myself for an hour or two, and I jumped on the opportunity. I know guys who went months before facing their first few hours alone with their baby, and went into it with trepidation and uncertainty, but I didn't want to be that guy.</div>
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Phil Dunphy would have made a disaster of this morning. The baby would have started screaming as soon as mom left, and he would have come up with all sorts of charmingly ineffective ways to placate her. He would have wanted to surprise his wife by cleaning the house while she's away, and ended up instead spilling his coffee on the baby and knocking down a shelf or something. And it would be up to Claire to swoop in and fix it, first scolding him for holding the baby upside down, while she takes her in one arm and cleans up the mess with another. While they'd make up by the end of the episode, and she would see the good will in his debacle and love him for it, Phil would have proven that he's incapable of handling any of this alone.</div>
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I've also realized this: the mark of a life well-lived is almost never in any sort of heroic acts. I don't need to clean the house and potty train Fiona in a day in order to show that I'm a good dad. The mark of a life well-lived is found in doing the mundane, every-day things well, and with purpose. So we're sitting here, not learning to talk, but sleeping peacefully, with the occasional lap around the house for a coffee refill or to quell a spell of fussing. And if she screams, or blows out a diaper, I can handle it without Tori needing to swoop in.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-29264287156584568652012-09-16T22:08:00.002-07:002012-09-17T04:34:15.176-07:00Midnight MusingsSince it's actually a bit past midnight, today Fiona is officially two weeks old. She's still awesome. Eats, sleeps, and poops like a champ (traded in the marmite poop for bright orange, liquidy poop. weird, but also doesn't really smell....I promise that's the last description of her poop on this blog unless it's actually funny). She doesn't cry all that much, and while we started with her eating every 2-3 hours or so, she's already stretching the sleep sessions out to as much as 4.5 hours sometimes. She's doing great.<br />
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One thing she's not really down with yet, is sleeping without being held. Not her jam. What that means for us is, sleeping any kind of normal hours has become a thing of nostalgia. I find myself squeezing in naps at 5 or 6pm, and staying up until 2am on school nights. It's kind of like continuous jet lag, without the being on vacation part.</div>
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Last time I was up this late on the regular was college, where there were a bunch of other people up this late, too. There was a fairly accessible supply of mischief to get into, and bonds were formed over late night adventures. Well now, there's only one other person around, and she's pretty short on ideas for late night hijinks. And words. So I have to seek alternatives. Like this:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWOsI7UqvzwHuNMAEt789dqp7K0bnsAHa3CwXQGUGaMBH0nGPohhL_1zSOfs9YM7Knq5ErAQ1K04DD4iALF93XIm6za9v7fec-E3Ed1RmDLRBD4D9wsTmihgf7-mlwQwniok2JXtyEpY/s1600/253081_10100742406323649_129906196_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPWOsI7UqvzwHuNMAEt789dqp7K0bnsAHa3CwXQGUGaMBH0nGPohhL_1zSOfs9YM7Knq5ErAQ1K04DD4iALF93XIm6za9v7fec-E3Ed1RmDLRBD4D9wsTmihgf7-mlwQwniok2JXtyEpY/s640/253081_10100742406323649_129906196_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beware the Jabberwock, my daughter - the jaws that bite, the claws that catch!</td></tr>
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That would be the Jabberwock. And that would be Fiona, around 1am, galumphing happily underneath her manxome foe. Why? Because it's funny. And this is my idea of conditioning - I love Lewis Carroll's "<a href="http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/jabber/jabberwocky.html">Jabberwocky</a>," and want Fiona to love it, too. So my scheme includes acquiring this terrifying stuffed creature, and having her interact with it from a very young age. Maybe he will end up as her favorite stuffed animal. He'll certainly be the only one capable of whiffling. She'll want to hear the poem as a bedtime story. I imagine Jabberwock at tea parties, or sleepovers. "Why Jabberwock, what lovely eyes of flame you have!"</div>
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See, this is why I say it's a weird experience.</div>
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Other late-night inspirations have been slightly more useful - one may even turn into an article I try to publish in a music journal. But mostly, these late nights have been more like the Jabberwock photo shoot, or watching soccer matches I'd missed, because I don't have the attention span to do anything mentally taxing.</div>
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Really though, so far parenthood has been pretty easy. Working part-time has really helped that, to be sure, but all things considered, this ain't half bad.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-6788571570115544382012-09-09T10:00:00.000-07:002012-09-09T17:37:06.037-07:00L&D and Everything After, ConclusionI guess this could have just been called "Everything After." If I kept up the same level of detail from here out, I'd not only lose readership and my own interest in typing it, I'd also never catch up to the present day. So here's the highlights version.<br />
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At 8lbs, 10oz, and 21.5in, Fiona Mae Drummond was the biggest newborn in the hospital. She was also the best looking. Newborns look a lot like aliens most of the time, and can come with such attractive qualities as cone heads, baby acne, scaly or flaky skin, blotches, beady eyes, and myriad other generally weird-looking traits. Fiona has none of those - she is a babe in the making.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rosy cheeks are from eating - she takes it seriously.</td></tr>
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They keep babies and moms for 48 hours after delivery as standard protocol. Fiona had some extra tests to make sure she didn't get any infections from the long labor (all good), so she got pulled out of bed at 1am both nights to get stuck with things. I learned that they draw blood from babies' feet.<br />
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We had a regular parade of visitors, though many of them were repeat customers (parents mostly). Fiona was a gracious hostess in her hospital room, allowing most anyone to hold her and flash cameras in her face with minimal grimacing.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju6MiusHefjM9vKzwF4sczIra51IS9P5pwoF7oLom1q0uC0PbHbFu44xSsUuRXaVFagUGcrp7fmnTlZCmc2tRZRcp0EdgFEPlte2BUGSSg1oYDUTN9wjuIPaWkKyL-olUmRbUXrA-ZUxw/s1600/IMG_5208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju6MiusHefjM9vKzwF4sczIra51IS9P5pwoF7oLom1q0uC0PbHbFu44xSsUuRXaVFagUGcrp7fmnTlZCmc2tRZRcp0EdgFEPlte2BUGSSg1oYDUTN9wjuIPaWkKyL-olUmRbUXrA-ZUxw/s640/IMG_5208.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well, maybe a <i>little</i> grimacing. But look at that tight blanket burrito...nice work!</td></tr>
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With everything going on, I didn't pay attention to my school's calendar (yes, I have a school! More on that in another post), and showed up to teach on the wrong day. Oops.<br />
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In the hospital, you're not allowed to go anywhere out of your room while holding your baby. She had to go in this clear aquarium-looking bed thing with wheels. When mothers are discharged, they must leave in a wheelchair. This is perhaps the strangest part. Not only can I walk with my baby wherever I please <i>immediately</i> after leaving the hospital, Tori got up from her wheelchair when we got to the car, leaned in, and strapped Fiona into the car seat herself. The irony. Anyway.<br />
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I'd also like to let it be known that I changed Fiona's first <i>two</i> diapers (no, they are not the only two I've done. I change many diapers). I also learned that newborn poop looks like the blackest, most foul evil ever to emerge from anyone's butt hole. In a bizarre mode of cognitive dissonance, it is both sterile and odorless. I kid you not. No smell. And tar-like, so it's kind of concentrated in one spot. Really, it looks like marmite, this nasty tar-like substance Brits and Aussies eat on toast. The marmite poop goes away after two days or so, and now I kind of miss it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7z27sVBhTqbgy9eFBQnDajAsih1IMgIuCzaXsvTsg7Ph0uK5E0D6O35KluPJjl6T1fJ6d-27mBrMeGvzqY9iLQ3zJvy6D8-uHjeh9yDMnAGaR6G65Ux5B1HVPICKt8EhAzsducXX9fg/s1600/marmite.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7z27sVBhTqbgy9eFBQnDajAsih1IMgIuCzaXsvTsg7Ph0uK5E0D6O35KluPJjl6T1fJ6d-27mBrMeGvzqY9iLQ3zJvy6D8-uHjeh9yDMnAGaR6G65Ux5B1HVPICKt8EhAzsducXX9fg/s400/marmite.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gross.</td></tr>
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So we've been home several days now, and each one is different. She has no routine, other than eating, sleeping, and pooping. She doesn't know what she likes best, so when she's upset it's hard to know what will help. One day she's nice and placid and seems content. The next, she is either passed out asleep, or screaming.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhveSvNoKU-Ztk1QcLfiF6O94FtYjm31gg5gaMCMbOSxcMDYStynOTIde5fMJKxl04i8wgREjmy0HJayr1G9fd78njlfpmU-OQjbj0u7FAeQmIYotTcRTkOA8jMsGanVsokwHWlOA636ok/s1600/IMG_5239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhveSvNoKU-Ztk1QcLfiF6O94FtYjm31gg5gaMCMbOSxcMDYStynOTIde5fMJKxl04i8wgREjmy0HJayr1G9fd78njlfpmU-OQjbj0u7FAeQmIYotTcRTkOA8jMsGanVsokwHWlOA636ok/s640/IMG_5239.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We like the passed out asleep. We wish it would happen at night sometime.</td></tr>
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She is ALWAYS hungry. She's supposed to eat every 2-3 hours right now, which is already pretty crazy, considering that it takes 30 minutes or more to do a whole feeding session. But not long after, she starts doing what the doctor called "rooting," and which we've come to call the "little bird face," which means she's looking for something to suck on. Sometimes it's her own hand. Sometimes it's your arm. Tori has a hickey on her chin, where a hungry Little Bird got too close and latched on. No one had to teach this one how to breastfeed - she definitely has the mechanics down (not so sure she knows when to use her skills though).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFUvOKWq4U05nmev8R7F_dm7ce9bo1XUf32CRnbbDLG9dElT2RSD1b9J6vj5tftFQehWj_PlJPo6QVKe_lqOUDVf0Lyx0iLcthIwyS3bBkeQuTt-PK3lQF9rgRNCHDA-Cq84zbYUOovo/s1600/IMG_5269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFUvOKWq4U05nmev8R7F_dm7ce9bo1XUf32CRnbbDLG9dElT2RSD1b9J6vj5tftFQehWj_PlJPo6QVKe_lqOUDVf0Lyx0iLcthIwyS3bBkeQuTt-PK3lQF9rgRNCHDA-Cq84zbYUOovo/s640/IMG_5269.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Bird Face. She's about to latch on to my collar bone.</td></tr>
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So we're parents. We don't sleep much at all. We have a hard time remembering things like where we parked the car. We laugh at stupid stuff like how loud and often my little girl farts, and we drive to nowhere at 1am, hoping it will make her stop screaming. We're struck a dozen times a day at how effing cute she is, and are so thankful that God gave us this screaming, pooping, tiny Little Bird.</div>
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And that, my friends, is the story of how she got here.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6911992616758868247.post-4267947963952830372012-09-08T08:25:00.005-07:002012-09-08T08:25:43.544-07:00L&D and Everything After, Part IIISo it's been a LONG 24 hours since Tori's water broke. I am aching, stumbling around from exhaustion and stress, hungry, and my hands are shaky from the excess of coffee that's kept me awake. But respite has finally come in the form of powerful medication delivered into my wife's spine. It's as weird looking at it sounds, and it made her pretty much numb from the waist down. The angelic creature that was our nurse, having carefully supported us all the way through this ordeal, kindly helped me when I couldn't figure out how to convert the chair in the room into a fold-out bed. She really made a world of difference that night - thanks, Skye. We both settled in for a solid 3 hours of sleep.<br />
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Tori reminded me of another lovely detail that happened just before the epidural - I guess I'd blocked it out because it was terrible. She asked for some lesser pain medicine, to see if we could take the edge off of these contractions, but not do an epidural. So they gave her demerol, a fairly potent synthetic opioid drug, in her IV. Not only did it not take her pain away, it made her throw up, almost immediately. If you know my wife, you may know how she'll do<br />
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We were awoken at 7:30, just before shift change, so the doctor could check Tori's progress again. After her seven hours of misery, she'd barely progressed, and was at just 20% dilation at 3am. But by 7:30 she made it to 50% - a huge milestone, and the beginning of "active labor!" I wasn't awake enough at the time to recognize the irony of "active" labor arriving in her sleep, while all the squatting, standing, back-rubbing, chair-rocking, moaning awfulness was not considered "active." Anyway, what that meant was, we were getting somewhere, and were now likely to be getting there faster. Great news!<br />
<br />I went out to tell everyone, because despite making multiple beds at our house (5 miles away) for family to stay in, they stayed in the waiting room chairs all night. Dad did go to the house eventually...only to sleep on the couch. So they were very excited, and my parents and I ate breakfast with a side of hope and optimism.<br />
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A little after 10:00, the new doctor on duty came in to check her out again. She got down in front of Tori and started to laugh. "Well, I don't need to talk in centimeters - I can see hair. Let's deliver a baby!" Tori had no idea. This is the weirdest part to me - I guess it means she had some pretty powerful drugs. I know we didn't want to use them, and some of you women reading this had natural births. But you weren't there, and can't know how awful it was. That night, God's mercy was truly manifested in a chemical being dripped into my wife's spine. And being able to relax, her body was able to do its work, and the baby was all but out.<br />
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It was REALLY strange to see the top of a head sticking out of my wife. But I didn't have time to contemplate it. Nurses were quickly called in, and we cut in line in front of a c-section next door.<br />
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I think the pushing part is the worst part of labor for a great many women. I've heard of pushing for multiple hours on end. Thankfully, for Tori, this could not have been easier. She pushed for under five minutes - literally three big pushes, and Fiona was out!<br />
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If you've never seen this happen, it's an incredible thing. This little girl, who spent nearly 10 months as a lump inside a belly, is now out in the world. She has never breathed before, but she starts. She has never pooped, but that happened within 5 minutes, too. She's never seen the world, never touched anyone. It all just happens. It's awesome.<br />
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It's also weird and gross and kind of unsettling. I have much fonder memories of my wife's ladyparts than delivery, I'll tell you. And while it's awesome that the baby is out and all humanoid, she's also grey. Not just because she's covered in grey stuff, which is nasty, but her skin is grey for a few minutes. She's wet, slimy, discolored, and the cord sticking out of her belly is kind of off-putting at first, too. I cut it. But it hangs on for days, and at first I was afraid to touch it.<br />
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All that grossness was vastly outweighed by how grateful we both were that she was out, and both mom and baby were safe and healthy. And when I got to hold her in those first minutes, I cried several times. I loved spending the first few minutes holding her all wrapped up, just whispering to her all the things I've wanted to say for months. This was worth the terrible night, and more.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09532107758247997503noreply@blogger.com0