Wait... What month is it?..

Wow, did I really just miss the whole month of October on this deal?  I guess I’ve been busy, or lazy, or… I don’t know, pick one.  Where should I begin?  Ian had his first trip to a corn maze/pumpkin patch last month, thanks largely to his overgrown child of an aunt who decided that completing “corn maze” was a bucket-list able event.  The place was Fritzler Corn Maze in Greely, which was admittedly amazing.  They had fair food, a barrel train (uh, yeah, like a train made of barrels with wheels, with elementary school plastic chairs inside them, being pulled by an ATV at like 30 miles per hour), several inflatables for bouncing, slides, and of course two cannons, one firing ears of corn and a big one for blasting punkin’s.  Oh, and the 2 corn mazes they had generated the elegant form of one Peyton Manning when viewed from above.   With all that, I felt they deserved an endorsement.  I will say that a place like that does a lot to remind us of why we decided to raise Ian out here.  You just don’t see events like that in an urban setting.  Soon after came Halloween, where Ian was a “chicken”.  Why is “chicken” in quotes, you might ask?  It is my belief that the costume purchased for Ian was a mosaic of multiple costumes that somehow found their way together… Ridiculous, I know, but I also know that I’ve never seen a chicken with webbed feet.  Then this month was a birthday party for Ian’s betrothed wife, which was a good time with plenty of squealing, crying, laughing, and diapers.  That’s about it for recent events.  As for physical change, Ian has four teeth out now, and it’s making the sleep situation ridiculous.  He actually has been running a fever for the past few days, too, which makes him super happy, as you may imagine. Also, in writing this I realized why I didn’t write anything in October… we moved!  Left our giant rental house behind for a smaller place, mostly since we were tired of cleaning that 6-bedroom place, as well as cleaning out our wallets when the utility bills came.  I guess that’ll about wrap it up for our top stories, so until next time.

Those who can't do...

So, when we were pregnant with Ian, I was well aware of my skill deficiencies in all areas of infant care.  As a result of this consciousness, I pretty much jumped at the chance when I learned there were several “new parent” classes available at the midwife practice we were using.  One such class, called “Daddy Boot Camp”, was of particular interest to me, since as the name suggests, it’s just for dads and focuses on FAQ’s in a sort of crash-course manner.  It turned out to be a lot more of a group therapy thing than an informative thing, but I digress…  This past Saturday, I was invited back as their “Veteran Dad” so I could share my vast amount of acquired knowledge about babies with all the nervous soon-to-be’s.  Little did they know, right?  Anyway, I was perceived as a master of the newborn universe thanks greatly to Ian.  This class is 3 hours long and he was totally perfect the entire time, even without his mother being there.  He smiled at everyone, played on the floor quietly with some stuff I brought, showed everyone how he’s already got a tooth and he’s crawling and pulling himself to his feet, and then he even took like an hour nap.  I was pretty ashamed of myself for bringing my perfect little baby to show off to a bunch of guys who statistically aren’t going to have nearly that easy of a time, but then I realized that perhaps some, like me, who were the most scared of the sleepless nights and wailing babies could actually be relieved to see that not all the horror stories are true.  You’ll lose sleep, but not necessarily all of it.  They’ll cry, but not necessarily all the time.  They’ll blow creamy peanut butter out of their ass, but not necessarily all over your lap.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a new dad (and again I feel I’m pretty spoiled with Ian), it’s that no matter how bad you thought it was going to be, that little face will always make you remember how not bad it really is.

Do me a solid...

While Ian has apparently mastered the phases of liquids and gasses (yes, that's a fart joke), he is merely an amateur at the solids phase.  Ian has had about a week now of "real" food, adding all manner of fruits and vegetables to his previous rice-cereal repertoire.  He currently eats avocado, carrots, zucchini, apples, pears, bananas, and probably other things that I'm already forgetting.  He's even eating them in a high chair, thanks to his Abuela.  Along with his first foods, he has also recently had his first cold.  I suppose it could be said that we've been luckier than most on the infirmary front, having had over six months without so much as a sneeze, but it can still break your heart listening to him breathe through his mouth because his little nose is too plugged up.  His eyes are always red and watery, and he just can't get comfortable enough to sleep any longer than half an hour at a time.  It's been a while since I've felt as helpless as I do when I just can't seem to help him, or even explain to him what's wrong with him in a manner he'll understand just to soothe him a little.  After a day or two, he finally had his first unscheduled doctor trip, where we were assured that it was just a little cold, and we could only help by putting a humidifier in the room (which sounds completely ridiculous to a person who fled from Florida, by the way), and the occasional doling out of children's Tylenol.  He has since rebounded, and although he's still a little under the weather, he's definitely been showing signs of life again, and the return of his little smile is enough to mend your previously broken heart.

Man of the cloth...

Save the trees!.. Save the whales!.. Save the ozone!.. Save the planet!.. Whatever most people's reasoning is for doing cloth diapers, ours is more of a "Save the money!.."  After  the baby showers we had before Ian was born, we had quite a stockpile of disposable diapers, but now (almost 6 months to the day) we are finally running low on them, meaning it's time to start the somehow-more-disgusting task of wrapping Ian's little tushy in a beach towel.    My wife is all about the cloth diapers, but I've got to say I'm not totally convinced yet.  We've had a few dry runs with the cloth (no pun intended, especially since there was nothing "dry" about them) and I just find them to be a little more cumbersome than expected.  We've got several of the regular 2-piece kind, meaning the aforementioned beach towel which gets covered up by some rubber pants with several-thousand buttons on them.   You know what's fun?  Trying to wrap that beach towel around Ian's ass while he does triple-axles on his changing table, which now touches both the top of his head and the bottom of his feet simultaneously.  If you're lucky enough to get that Sham-wow into a position where there's only a slight chance of leakage, which is your best-case scenario, all you have to do figure out which of the several-thousand buttons match up to form the vague shape of a diaper, which is a bit like folding your leftover Chinese food up in an elegant foil swan, assuming your leftovers are flopping around like a headless cat.  We also have several all-in-ones, which are one piece as the name suggests and are therefore only half as difficult to get him into.  I suppose I'll have to figure it out eventually, or I could just sneak out like a closet-smoker at 3 am to buy disposables from the convenient store...

The root of all evil...

No, no... It's not money like normal people's struggling parents told us when we were young... It's teeth!  I know,  quite the shock... allow me to elaborate.  Ian has began the apparently long and arduous task of sprouting teeth, and it's amazing the amount of difficulty that comes from growing teeth.  And here I thought that sore gums were the major part of it, but was I ever wrong.  So, I suppose the main thing that I wouldn't have guessed is that apparently having teeth makes you shit more.  Since his one little tooth has broke through the gum on his lower jaw, he's been blowing it out his ass like never before.  A couple days ago, he even had his first "big-boy" shit, which evidently means he stops merely staining the back half of his diaper and instead fills it with the Sam's Club size creamy Jif.  And the smell is unexpected as well, like a dead donkey pickled in ammonia.  He's started doing some serious business just in time for us to try and switch to cloth diapers... great!  Also, he has regressed to sleeping for only two hours at a time, which is especially difficult since he now sleeps in his own room, so we have to actually get up.  Anyway, the moral is that he's much more irritable, much less sleepy, and much more efficient at processing what he eats into a aromatic heap of Pampers.  It's enough to make you think that toothless hillbillies are really on to something...

"Today's episode is brought to you by... the number 5"

Ian is 5 months old now...  Seems weird, like only yesterday he would just lay in your arms and stare blankly at you, or anything else making noise, and now he won't stop air-humping the floor when you put him on his tummy.   I'm told this is a natural progression before he figures out his limbs are required to crawl, but I still can't help but laugh when he does it (possibly because "Humpin' Around" by Bobby Brown always seems to pop into my head).  He did make a conscious effort to crawl to his daddy a week ago, and took two full strides to reach me, but I call that a fluke and am still waiting for him to become mobile.  We've just returned from my parents' house in Junction, where Ian was able to have a meet-and-greet with a few aunts and uncles he had not yet met.  It was no surprise to us that everyone seemed to adore him, especially since he pretty much just smiled and laughed for the entire long weekend.  As usual, a trip to his grandma's yielded many spoils, but the most enticing was a "bumbo" seat from a recent yard-sale expedition.  It's pretty cool that he can now pretty much sit up on his own with it, and it also has a little tray from which he received his first meal of rice cereal.  Oh, and does he devour rice cereal like a pro...  I find it particularly amazing watching him and seeing first hand just what kinds of instincts we are born with.  He was able to eat the whole bowl we made him, with a spoon and everything, like he had been doing it for years.  He didn't even slop it out of his mouth very much.  I've seen babies that have been fed with spoons for months that dribble more on the floor than Ian.  He's just like his daddy, I guess, since I don't waste much food either.  Our little boy is growing up fast, and in no time he'll be crawling towards the stairs and jamming cutlery into electrical sockets, and not long after that, I'll make him mow the lawn and get a job.  Ah, the future is bright...

Ian flees the country...

Ian's had a pretty big month, so I thought I should perhaps post an update on some of his exploits of late.  The passing of my grandmother-in-law forced our hand in seeing exactly what type of flyer Ian would be.  I am proud to say that he did awesome.  We had stops both ways from Denver to Puerto Rico and back... Four four-hour flights... and barely a peep the whole time.  Not even the typical "my ears are popping and there's no way to console me" fit.  He pretty much slept on my wife's lap the entire time.  Minor side note: we brought him as a "lap infant".  How is it safe for Ian to be in my lap on an A-330, but not in my car?  Is it just the fact that his car seat isn't rated against a flaming ball of death dropping from 27,000 feet?  Meaning he might as well just roll into the cockpit door as we smash nose first into the ground?  Not that I think he should sit on my lap in a car, but I'm not really understanding the logic; but I digress.  A terrible reason to make the trip to P.R., but a good excuse to stay so Ian could meet some of his family on my wife's side, including his Abuelo, who seemed super excited to say the least.  Ian was in a constant state of introduction for almost a whole week and he did not falter.  He took it in stride with a little smile on his face as he was passed from unknown person to unknown person.  He had his first trip to the playa in Luquillo, which is a more beautiful beach than many Americans will ever see in their entire life.  He listened to Salsa music, watched cartoons in Spanish, and heard the song of the Coqui as he slept.  It's debatable as to whether any of this had any impact on such a developing mind, but I'd like to think so.  The trip was fruitful for all of us, and I look forward to telling Ian about his first trip to the island of his ancestors...once he's old enough to know what I'm talking about.

... Let's get some shots!..

Today was Ian's 4-month wellness appointment, and I was a little nervous.  I knew he was scheduled for shots, and the wife has been harping on and on about how traumatic it was the last time he had shots, which I wasn't present for.  Since I didn't make it the last time, I made every effort to make it there this time.  I took him to the sitter in the morning, picked him up in the afternoon, drove him to the doctor's office where we met up with his mother, and I even had to find someone to cover my shift at work since I was, of course, scheduled this afternoon.  I think I mainly needed to be there to catch my wife's head before it hit the floor after she fainted rather than for Ian's benefit.  I am aware that he has no idea where he's going or for what purpose, but I think even if he did, I'd still be more worried about my wife's wellbeing. Apparently I was to expect a happy little baby to turn into some kind of "Exorcist" outtake the instant the needle broke the skin.  Well, I guess Ian just needed his daddy there, since he cried for all of about 8 seconds, which was amazingly about the same amount of time it took the nurse to poke him in the thighs  4 times. After that, he was just fine, even smiling again within 5 minutes.  He's a tough little buho, and his daddy is proud. 

... did you miss me?

Well, hello again... I know it's been a while since we last chatted, but I really thought that I was of little interest, and between that and all the hustle and bustle of raising your first kid, I have admittedly slacked quite a bit from my duties... but no more! After several conversations with the wife, she has convinced me that others do read this stuff, and some were even slightly entertained, so I shall do my best to keep this going... or get it going again, or whatever... That brings us to the buho, which is what I call Ian. It means "owl" in Spanish, and I started calling him that when he would stare up at me with his almost-freakishly-big eyes. A lot has transpired since I last posted, so I'll try to sift out the highlights. Ian is getting bigger by the second, and he's super alert. He responds to almost anything... loud noises, touch, visual cues, everything. I'm pretty sure he recognizes mommy's and daddy's voices, too. The wife is back to work, so we've located someone worthy of hanging with Ian during the day. She's very close to where we live, and when we interviewed her, we just knew she was the one. Mommy takes Ian in the mornings, and daddy picks him up in the afternoons. I think I got the best end of that deal, because even though I don't think he notices too much now, soon he'll be happy to see daddy every day, and a little sad to leave mommy every day. Hmm, what else?.. We've started putting him in his co-sleeper on the other side of the room, so he gets used to sleeping alone, and I'm sure some day soon, he'll be christening his unused crib in his unused room. Other than that, his "likes" include a nice warm bath, a vibrating frog, and blasting his parents with various bodily fluids. His "dislikes" include being put down, milk at an inappropriate temperature, and riding in the car...Or even sitting in his car seat for that matter. I swear he's the only infant on the planet that doesn't just automatically fall asleep in the car. I've seen children's Motrin, children's Tylenol, but I get the strangest looks at the Walgreen's when I ask for children's Nyquil or children's Ambien... And on that bombshell, it's time to end. (Top gear reference) I'm sure I'm leaving out a lot, but with any luck I'll keep everyone up to date a little better than I have been.

Don't call it a comeback...

I know, I know... You've been waiting with bated breath for an update about Ian's emergence... I guess I should apologize for the stretch you've all had to wait for news. That being said, this post will probably be pretty long, so bear with me. On our last episode, the wife was hooked up to the deal and we were waiting for go time. Well, after waiting pretty much all day with not much change, we were getting a little apprehensive. Our midwife was in and out all day checking up on us, but at around 9pm, she walked in with scrubs on and I thought, "Hmm, that's kinda weird..." Little did we know there was an intricate plot afoot to free Ian. I will say it was pretty impressive the way the midwife handled my wife, since the wife had been making it quite clear for months that the old cesarean gimmick was not in her future. Oh, cruel irony! From my point of view, however, that c-section thing is the way to do it. I mean, they came in a little after 9 to break the news and Ian was born at 10:09pm. With the "clean-up", it was like an hour and a half from start to finish. I kept hearing all these horror stories about 36-hour labors and stuff, so 90 minutes sounds pretty good to me. Anyway, Ian apparently had the umbilical cord above his head and around his arm, so he had to come out the hard way no matter what. Err, the easy way, or
whatever. So, they dug him out of his comfy little bubble and tossed him out into the cold world. He came out pretty purple, and there was admittedly a moment in which the thought crossed my mind that the wife had a little explaining to do about an encounter with someone of the more-pigmented-skin variety, but after a little oxygen he was as pink as daddy. I brought him over to his mommy so she could see him and then it was off to the nursery for the all important weigh-in. Twenty-one inches long, nine pounds, two ounces... It seemed the cord wasn't the only thing clogging up the escape hatch. After a couple minutes and a couple diapers filled with the most disgusting, tar-looking (color and consistency) shit you ever saw, the wife was sewn up and we could be reunited in the recovery room. I'm sure I have left out a bunch of pertinent stuff, but I just wanted to get back on the blog horse before I just gave it up, so I'm sure there'll be plenty of "oh, yeah, and then this happened..." strewn out through future posts. Plus, I've been trying to post this one for like a week, so I just have to get it up so we can get up to date, since at the
time of this transmission, Ian is already 4 weeks old. More to come, hopefully not once a month...

Updated cell post...

I can appreciate that my last post was a little lame, especially with the wealth of information I have to share now, so now that I've got the full-size qwerty at my disposal, I figured it was a good opportunity for a more detailed narration of the day's events... We'll start with yesterday: We had an appointment for a no-stress test and an ultrasound since Ian apparently missed his cue last week. The no-stress test was pretty much just that... we sat in a dim room watching Looney-Tunes cartoons for 25 minutes while my wife was hooked up to some measuring devices, I assume to see if Ian prefers Bugs or Daffy. The ultrasound was equally uneventful, as it was only to check the juice Ian has been brewing in to determine if he's still got enough to bathe in or whatever. After we were declared suitable, we then sat down with our midwife to determine a course of action. Much to my wife's surprise and delight, the midwife agreed that induction wasn't such a bad idea. Since we were making an induction plan and not going into labor at the time, we decided it might be best to get started in the morning as opposed to straight away so we could go home and get our stuff together, have a good dinner, and it was my sister's birthday, too. Unfortunately, getting started in the morning turned out to be a tad literal for my taste, since it meant we had to be at the hospital at 7:30 am, a little earlier than I would've chosen, but what can you do? Anyway, so today, we made it to the hospital on time, of course, since I'm pretty much incapable of being late, and got checked into our room with no hassles. It's almost 12:30 now, so we've been here for like 5 hours and really there hasn't been much change as of yet. The wife's hooked up and getting her Pitocin drip, and having regular contractions, but no real pain or anything yet. We were well aware that it would take a while since we were trying to coax Ian out before he was so inclined to emerge on his own, but the waiting is semi-painful. I guess to conclude this update, the hospital and all the nurses are super nice, and we're ready for something to happen. Let's do this...

There's something happening here...

Ian watch... day 9... the mood is tense!  We have officially checked into the delivery room at this point and my wife is filling out like a hundred papers in anticipation of the arrival of little Ian. After our appointment yesterday, which actually was the last scheduled appointment, a plan was devised to come in this morning, at 7:30 no less, and begin an IV of pitocin.  It would seem that there will be a baby here today or perhaps tomorrow.  Sorry, planet earth, but we will be contributing to your overpopulation, but it will be worth it, so you can suck it! I am writing this from my phone, and it's kinda a pain in the ass, so I'm going to cut this one a little short. Plus I'm nervous and I have to tend to the wife, but I'll be sure to update again soon. Wish us luck!

Matthew in the middle...

...And so begins week... I don't know... 40 plus! Overdue, biscuits are burning, late fees at the library, etc... Let's get this show on the road already! We have what should be our last scheduled baby appointment tomorrow, so no real definitive changes since my last post. The wife does seem less and less mobile as we get further and further past what was the due date, but I think she's pretty happy to have been relatively unhindered for most of her pregnancy in regards to getting around. I mean, I know of a few cases where the mother went on bed rest for a large percentage of their pregnancy, and I just think my wife is grateful that her case wasn't like that. She has also been approved to work half days until the inevitable happens, so that's a bonus as well. I guess the only major development recently pertains to the, what seems like, constant badgering of onlookers as to what Ian's middle name will be. We had discussed it once or twice before, and we were both content without a middle name, but with everyone we come into contact with coercing us of the necessity, we have decided that it may be better for Ian to have one. I suppose it will only aid him in the future to have a middle initial, if only for identification purposes when his birth certificate is called into question during his race for the presidency. Anyway, I'm sure the pins and needles are digging into your ass by now, so our son's official name will be... cue drum roll... Ian Matthew! Yes, he will continue the illustrious namesake of his father, and thereby giving his parents a few more syllables to shout when he undoubtedly performs some of the same ill-advised feats as the moronic name donor, from whose man-gravy he hath been spawned. I think it will be especially useful in his understanding of the degree of the offense he has committed, since there is an obvious difference between a simple "IAN!" and an "IAN MATTHEW!!". After all, I learned the difference from my father pretty quick, and I'm admittedly an idiot. It should be much simpler for Ian, even with only half of my wife's brain. I can see I'm beginning to ramble, so until next time, when hopefully there may be a physical creature to discuss, rather than just a basketball under my wife's shirt.

Ian's not here, but I guess we'll just have to sleep it off...

I guess it's officially our due date today, but apparently Ian didn't get the memo. The wife's no quitter, though. She's running up and down the stairs as we speak, I assume to shake something loose. I, however, am happy to enjoy what may be the last few days of uninterrupted sleep and lack of supreme responsibility before those customary treasures are lost forever in a sea of 2 a.m. feedings and sullied Huggies. I intend to value the little bit of time I have left to be irresponsible and waste as much of it as possible on frivolous endeavors that soon will have transformed into "things punk-ass kids do" once I am a parent. I can only hope that as we develop a routine for the rearing of our young, a few small slots will open up for my wife and I to relive some trivial pleasures once in a while.

Silly Monster, tricks aren't for Ian...

So, we went to what technically should have been our last scheduled baby appointment yesterday, but it looks like there may be at least one more… I know my wife is so tired of carrying Ian, since she has pretty much been trying everything in her power to expedite the process. She walks everyday with the dog and I, and it’s always like “let’s go another block or two.” Pretty soon we’ll be walking for two hours at a time and I’ll be dragging my exhausted dog for the last mile. We tried the Canino’s thing, and the other day she ate a whole pineapple, since apparently those also speed things up. Finally, at the appointment yesterday, she did this membrane-scrape thing, which (without going into too much detail) is a little more touchy-feely way of encouraging Ian to materialize on this planet. Still nothing. Just for clarification, he is measuring 40 weeks, so the biscuits are done, so to speak… It’s not like we’re trying to make a preemie or anything, I just know my wife has had enough. I feel bad, but most of the time I can’t help but chuckle a little as she rolls and flops in and out of bed 20 times to pee a night, mostly since it kinda reminds me of those kinds of times we won’t have as often anymore, you know, like when you’re so drunk that you roll and flop out of bed 20 times to pee a night? Anyway, our official due date is still tomorrow (as I write this), so he could still arrive on time, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see exactly what little trick my wife tries finally works…

Food so good, your water'll break...

So, there's this sort of local legend about an Italian restaurant in old town Fort Collins... As the story goes, there's quite a high percentage of pregnant women eating at this place and having their babies within 24 hours of the meal... I'm a skeptic, but a willing participant. Anyway, last night we dined at the establishment in question, which is called Canino's, in an effort to release my seed from my wife ASAP. The ritual apparently requires consumption of eggplant rollatini and spumoni ice cream, and you'll be all but guaranteed the next meal you eat will be in your delivery room. My wife, having decided she's had enough of being pregnant, resolved that we dine at said ristorante. I will say that at least the place was fantastic. The building is an old house built in like 1900 or something, and the food could have been the best Italian food I've ever had. Oh, and they have these specials where they roll back the prices to what they were in 1980, when they opened. I had a sampler with lasagna, hand-cut spaghetti, and a giant ravioli for like 4 bucks. My wife, of course, ate the required fare for a speedy expulsion of my seed. As I am writing this, there's only a couple hours for the legend to hold true for us, but unfortunately, I am not very hopeful. My wife has already arrived home from work with no contractions or water breakage or anything. The percentage of success is still high, but I guess it's just not Ian's time...

Ian's Nursery

So, I figured I should maybe post some about the nursery we created for Ian, just for anyone who's interested. The house we live in has a pretty decent setup for the nursery because there was a small office, complete with a small bathroom, on the upper level right next to the master bedroom. I think it should be nice, since all the other bedrooms are on the lower level, so there shouldn't be very much noise for guests and such, but we should be able to tend to the small one easily. Of course, we still have a baby monitor anyway, so it really doesn't matter I guess except for the guest-disturbance factor. Anyway, the theme we went with for the nursery bedding was the Jill McDonald "Adorable Dinos collection. The wife didn't really like it at first, but this turned out to be one of the very few battles in which I emerged with the "W". As far as paint scheme, we wanted something pretty simple, not too cluttered. Not too much taping and prep, in other words. We went with a two-tone scheme with a nice light blue on the top and a khaki color on the bottom, with a white chair rail in the middle. We also opted for the Olympic premium paint from Lowes because it contains zero VOC's, which is some compound that is apparently harmful to preggos. There was already a built-in cabinet in the room, which we painted white, and then all the other storage furniture and the changing table are from IKEA. The crib we found new at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore for like $50, which was awesome. Other than that, it's pretty straight-forward. There's some random things, like the adorable dinos decals on the walls and a leaf canopy over the crib from IKEA, but other than that it's just full of all the crap we got from various showers and gifts. Hopefully Ian will enjoy spending time in there... asleep.

...and so it begins!

Well, it's official... I am multiplying. Look out, world! As this is my inaugural post on this blog, I figure a little background is necessary. I am a first-time father, and the baby of my family, so I have like no infant experience. There is definitely a mixture of excitement and terror welling up inside me, but at this particular moment, fear is in the lead. As I write this, we are exactly one week from our due date. We've gotten everything set up and ready for the arrival, but that only goes so far in regards to easing the worry. I'll try to keep posting regularly as my hope is just talking about the million things that go through my ignorant mind each day will make it less frightening. Wish me luck!