Sarah and I have kinda fallen into a routine or schedule, mostly by coincidence, I think. It goes like this… During the day, if Sarah’s tired, and she has recently fed (read “just finished feeding”) Tyler… she can go upstairs and get a nap. I take care of Tyler the best I can. If he gives his “I’m hungry” cry (which we call the “Nursey Cry”), and it’s only been an hour, I tell him that he needs to wait. If it’s been 2 hours or longer, we go get Sarah for some foods. I don’t hand him off to Sarah if he’s crying. He has to calm down first. I stay up until around 2am or so, and stick to the same routine, so that Sarah can rest when she needs to.

Now, once I go to bed – anywhere between 1am and 3am – if Ty starts getting fussy, Sarah takes care of it. This is for, I would guess, 3 reasons:

  1. Sarah’s got the boobs and thus, has the milks
  2. He currently sleeps in our room with us. His crib is right next to Sarah, so she’s closer.
  3. Either I sleep through his cries, or Sarah has ninja reflexes and scoops Ty up before he can really turn up the volume.

I asked Sarah once, why she didn’t wake me up to help. If you remember, from a previous blog, she said “Because we didn’t need you.”

So, I get one solid run of sleep during the night, and am up for the day. I have been known to nap, but I try not to. Sarah sleeps when she can. It’s tough being the mom, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the job of being my baby mama.

Ty woke up about 45 minutes ago and started getting fussy. I held him and asked what his major malfunction was. He responded with a cry. I told him to use his words, and he responded with a cry.

He was kicking his legs around, and his face turned red. He looked like he was really, uhhh… thinking…. very hard. And then, his butt just exploded. I felt the force, through the diaper, on my hand. But he was still straining, so I told him to take care of whatever business he had to take care of, and that I was there to support him. He let 2 more RIP. Then he yawned, and looked at peace with the world.

I grabbed the diaper supplies and sat him down, all the while trying to mentally prepare myself for what lie between the diaper and his soft, pink skin.

Nothing. There was NOTHING! The only thing that could have made me prouder is if he had asked me to pull his finger.

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The cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life is when Tyler smiles. I know it’s just a reflex thing, but it’s way cool. Believe me, I’ve tried to get a picture, but the smile is gone by the time I get the camera powered on. It happens most while he’s sleeping. We’ll just look down and he’ll have a smirk on his face, or even a full blown grin. So awesome. I know I’ve blogged about smiling once already, so I’ll leave the topic be until I can get a photo of it.

We’ve got two dogs. We’ve got a female boxer mix named Delilah and a male sheltie mix named Logan. We were slightly nervous about how the dogs would react to baby Tyler, when we all came home from the hospital. There would be a lot of energy, because they were only seeing me 3 times a day while Sarah was in the hospital. They hadn’t seen Sarah in 6 days, and they’ve, obviously, never seen Tyler.

The day after Tyler was born, I stole borrowed one of the blankets that were used to wrap Tyler in, and brought it home. I let both dogs sniff it. When I went back to the hospital, I left the blanket on the living room floor, so that they’d be able to get used to that smell in the house. Who knows, for sure, if it really works, but that was something I had either read online, or watched on “Bringing Home Baby” on TLC.

Then, July 1st rolled around, and it was FINALLY time to bring home our baby. When we got in the house, I immediately set the car seat (with Tyler still strapped in) out of the way. Sarah was in intense pain from her C-Section major abdominal surgery, so I had to be sure to block the super-excited dogs from jumping on her. Yes, our dogs are jumpers. Yes, we’re working on it.

Sarah went into the kitchen and sat at the dining room table. I put Tyler (still in the car seat) on top of the dining room table. Then we waited. We were waiting for the energy level to die down just a tad. It was a long wait. The dogs knew something was on the table, and they wanted to see it. When the tempo had finally slowed a little bit, I put Logan outside. I grabbed Tyler (for future reference, the entire kitchen scene takes place with him still in the car seat. I’m getting tired of notating that fact, so there ya go) and sat him on the floor. I sat, Indian style, next to him and SLOWLY let Delilah get closer. I’ve got ZERO fears of Delilah purposefully hurting Tyler, but she plays rough, and LOVES loves loves to kiss. I don’t want her doing either with Tyler. Each time she got close and sniffed, I said “Good girl” and praised her. If she tried licking him, I tapped her nose (not quite a smack, not so weak as a tap) and said “no kissing”. If her energy got too high, I pushed her away from the car seat.

She did wonderfully, but she eagerly wanted to lick his little face off. That’s the most restraint I’ve ever seen her exercise.

Then it was Logan’s turn. I made the mistake of thinking that I could let Delilah stay in the room as well. I’m so dumb sometimes. Things got chaotic very quickly. I gave the leash (strapped to Logan) to Sarah, and took Delilah outside. Then, I did the Logan/Tyler introduction. Logan, I do have reservations about. He was an adoption from the ASPCA, and he was an abused dog. As such, he’s got trust issues. He doesn’t like strangers. He has bit people before. We love Logan to death, but he’s got two outs, and two strikes already against him. I told Sarah that, if I so much as see him “show teeth” to Tyler, he’ll be at the vet getting put down that afternoon. And I mean it.

As a side note, Logan’s attitude/demeanor has done a 180 since we’ve gotten Delilah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just flat out trust him. Either he accepts Tyler as another future alpha male in the house, or he gets put down.

He also did wonderfully. He sniffed around Tyler for a bit, then left. That’s it.

In the following days. Logan has sniffed Ty a few times. He gets curious when Tyler is screaming. Otherwise, he just lets him be. Delilah, on the other hand, is madly in love with Tyler. She wants to sniff him (and probably kiss him) all the time. She’s doing great. She tries to sneak in kisses sometimes, but for the most part, just sniffs him.

It was much easier than I’d expected, though I won’t be letting my guard down with Logan. Both dogs have been slightly attention starved, Delilah much moreso than Logan, but things are finally starting to normalize.

Man… it’s going to be so weird going back to work on Monday.

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The picture above has nothing to do with this post. I just think it’s an awesome picture.

Babies should be born with at least a minimal set of words pre-programmed into their brains. Words like “peep”, “poop”, “binky”, “snuggle”, “gas”, and “hungry”.

Tyler spent much of today screaming. It wasn’t actual “screaming”, but I don’t exactly know how to describe it. Yelling? Maybe. The problem is, though, that we didn’t know what he wanted. I can tell you what he didn’t want:

  • He did not want to be held
  • He did not need to be changed
  • He did not need to feed (just finished)
  • He did not want to be burped
  • He did not appear to want to sleep
  • He did not want to be on his belly
  • He did not want to be on his back
  • He did not want to sit upright
  • He did not want to be swaddled
  • He did not want to be in his swing
  • He did not want his pacifier

To the best of my knowledge, and through the power of deducing, it appeared that Tyler just wanted to yell. Maybe he liked the sound of his own yells.

I finally decided that he “needed” to take a nap, because he was being too fussy. I swaddled him and put him on his back, next to me. He yelled. After awhile, he stopped, and promptly fell asleep. He didn’t wake up for 2 hours. The only reason he woke up is because I woke him up for some boobtime.

A few hours later…. we did it all over again. Again, I decided he needed sleep. It was 10pm, so I don’t think I was wrong. I swaddled him and allowed him to cry. Awhile later, he stopped and fell asleep. It’s now been 2 hours and 10 minutes, and he’s still sound asleep.

I gotta say…. this officially goes in the books as being a rough day. I apologize for this post not being very clever or even remotely funny, but that’s about the jist (gist?) of what’s happened today. Pretty uneventful, except for yelling.

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This morning, I found myself wondering what I might blog about today. The answer presented itself very shortly after that.

There must be a reflex in babies where, when I diaper is removed, they experience a violent urge to urinate. In the 6 days Tyler has been home, I have been peed on 4 times. I fully attribute this to the curse that my close friend, Adam, placed on me. The nurse at the hospital, before we were discharged, tried to rest my mind by saying that urine is sterile, and I could just deflect it by placing my cupped hand into the stream.

Wait. What?

Was this nurse actually suggesting that, not only do I allow my child to piss on me, but that I actually place myself in the line of fire? Does she have any idea of who I am? At all? I can’t stand eating chicken with two hands, because the thought of having grease on both of my hands disgusts me. When I eat food, I wipe my mouth after every single bite of food taken. I, constantly, and chronically, clean my fingernails of any and all debris. I can’t stand being kissed on the cheek if the kisser is wearing chapstick.

It would seem, to me, that the advice given should sound something like “if your baby starts peeing while his diaper is off, get the heck out of the way.”

The thing is, Tyler waits until I’m digging for a baby wipe, or until I’m unfolding a new diaper. He daren’t urinate while I actually have my full attention on him.

Of the 4 times I have been subjected to this cruel… uhm… torture, two times I grabbed the NEW diaper and dropped it on his winky. Man, not only was I angry that he peed on me, but he also made me waste a brand new diaper. TWO TIMES! The 3rd time was at bath time, so I was able to drop the washing cloth on him. The last time, he actually sprayed me pretty good, but I hadn’t yet fully removed the dirty diaper, and was able to salvage it for some soakage.

In my entire life, I cannot recall any time where someone has urinated on me. It’s just generally considered bad form, ya know? My son, apparently hasn’t gotten the memo yet. So, every time that this happens, I curse Adam’s name under my breath, and not always very quietly.

Sarah, on the other hand, had not yet been peed on. That is fine and dandy, but she felt the need to tell me, with an air of arrogance to her tone. The “air” to her tone was thick with “My child obviously loves me way more than you, Joe”, and I sat there, defeated. It was true.

This morning, I was on the computer. Once again, I was getting caught up on my daily websites. Two rooms away, in the living room, I heard a scream. It wasn’t a scream of horror, but more of shock, surprise, and fear. I never once worried for the well being of my son, or my wife, because I knew. I could see it. My vivid imagination showed me Sarah opening the diaper, telling Tyler how much she loves him. I could see the happy look on his face as he opened the gates and allowed the stream to flow. And I laughed… loudly.

But I was wrong…. Sarah trumped me.

“It’s not pee”, she yelled across the house.

I laughed harder. The day is MINE! I am the victor!!!

“I need help”, were the next words from her.

I laughed all the way into the living room. I won’t go into the graphic details, but I will say that Sarah described the “incident” as a missle. I will further say that it was a direct hit. Once again, though, there was some collateral damage. Instead of addressing the mess that was made to Sarah’s clothing, I said, “This is why we shouldn’t change him on the couch.”

I feel that I have been redeemed.

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I was on the computer this morning, catching up on news and my other daily websites. There are about 5 websites that I visit every day (usually multiple times per day), to get caught up on news, gossip, email, and some of my forums. I’m pretty sure that I was playing around on SmugMug today, when I heard Sarah say:

“Well, if you want the boob, you’re gonna have to stay awake.”

Much like the bat signal, the dad signal went off. My super powers were needed, immediately. With nary a delay, I left the computer, walked from the computer room, and headed directly towards Tyler, who was on his mother’s lap. I whispered in his ear:

“Son, if a hot woman puts her boob in your face, you never, never, turn it down. Life lesson number 2.”

I turned to go, and Sarah inquired, “What’s number 1?”

I replied, “None of your business.”

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