Today, Tyler was looking directly into my eyes. He really seemed to recognize me. He was completely wide-eyed, and fully alert – unlike the photo here. It’s a very special thing to experience. I won’t try to explain it here, because I know I won’t be able to do it any justice. Suffice it to say, it is very, very awesome.

Tyler is also starting to make sounds. This is aside from his typical screaming when he wants something.

There are a few “schools of thought” with regards of how one should speak to babies. Some people prefer to keep things as simple as possible. “Mommy love Tyler”, “Tyler hungry? Tyler want nursey?”.

Then there are those that say to speak to your child as if you would speak to anyone “Mommy loves you, Tyler”, “Tyler, are you hungry? Do you want to eat?”.

Sarah and I belong to the latter. We speak to Tyler in full, grammatically correct sentences. I don’t want him to learn poor grammar, then have to relearn the correct way to speak. Just like learning a foreign language. The BEST way to do so is to immerse yourself in it. That’s what we’re doing. We’re immersing Tyler in it.

Did I digress? Yeah, I think I did…. so… back on track, Tyler is making sounds. It’s friggin adorable! We’ve heard him scream lots of times, but now we actually get to hear a voice. A voice the belongs to my son!

He says “ooooo” and “ung-a”. Of course, Sarah and I started speculating on what he’s trying to say to us.

I told her that it couldn’t be more obvious. They boy weighed in at 11 pounds 5 ounces at his 2 week appointment. He’s likely to be over 12 pounds. Heck, I guarantee it. He couldn’t possibly be saying anything other than “hungry”.

Ung-a… hungry. It’s not much of a stretch to make that connection.

Of course, we both know that it’s just nonsense right now, but there’s no denying the fact that his daddy is a borderline genious. Maybe, maybe little Tyler will be the next Einstein.

Seconds after I have this thought, Tyler cracks a smile… then farts. Yup, he is his father’s son.

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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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