This Is Not How I Remember It From Before

The Wife's trip to Portland this past week was the first time I've had to take of NJ by myself for an extended period in quite some time. And in that time, her personality and abilities have grown exponentially. It was a completely new experience.

Here's a rough timeline of events. Times that are bolded are exact; italicized means an estimate.

WEDNESDAY

4.45 p.m. -- I pick NJ up at day care. She doesn't seem to care that I'm not The Wife, who'd dropped her off that morning on her way to Portland. NJ doesn't rush to the door to greet me, though, as she sometimes does -- she's laying on a mat with a boy; she's playing with his feet, which are draped across her tummy. One of the teachers tells me that this boy has no source of income, no gainful employment, so I call NJ away from him and we leave. At the car, NJ says "Mommy at home?" I tell her no, and she wails. It doesn't last long, and soon we're driving home laughing and chatting and occasionally high-fiving.

What, me cry?

5.20 p.m. -- We pull up to the house. "Mommy inside?" NJ asks. I tell her no, and she wails. I hope the neighbors don't think I slapped her or something.

Inside, Mommy's absence is forgotten and we have a lovely time. After a hearty round of "Go to Bed" -- her current fave game, in which she puts two of her dolls to sleep in her crib and then joins them for a succession of 10-second naps -- NJ devours much of the hamburger patty with Provolone I make her, along with some pickle slices and quinoa. And a cookie, of course! NJ's bath is uneventful, other than me failing to keep her from repeatedly drinking bath water.

8 p.m. -- Hilarity ensues when I ask NJ if she's ready to "go to bed" and she cheerily replies "Yes!" She was thinking of "Go to Bed" and her smile fades to sour disappointment when I pulls the shades in her room instead of turning on the music. It was like one of those "Three's Company" episodes (all of them?) when Mr. Roper overhears Jack and Janet talking and thinks they're talking about sex when they actually were talking about getting their car serviced. NJ and I compromise -- I let her play a little "Go to Bed" and actually get out of the crib again for a little while, and she ... huh! I seem to have forgotten her side of the compromise. Anyway, at about 8.20 p.m. I try again and NJ's happy to settle down to sleep. I celebrate with a glass of wine and a couple of "Cheers" reruns.

THURSDAY

2.34 a.m. -- This is why I'm doing exact and estimated times, because 2.34 a.m. is burned in my mind as if someone wrote 2.34 a.m. across it with an acid-tipped pen. This is when NJ's cries on the baby monitor woke me up. It was 2.34 a.m.

2.50 a.m. -- She's still at it, so I head downstairs. A diaper is changed, a rocking chair is utilized, but every time I move to put NJ back to bed, she squawks. So ...

3.30 a.m. -- I put a row of pillows where The Wife usually sleeps in our bed, plant NJ in next to it, then lay down myself on the remaining mattress real estate. She's not going back to sleep yet, but she's calm and cool and collected. I can't see the clock because of the pillows, but after a lengthy stretch, the kid's out.

5 a.m. -- Dad's still awake! I crane my head and check the clock when a sleeping NJ kicks a tiny foot into my ribcage.

6.30 a.m. -- The alarm goes off. I dozed enough that I can't claim I got no rest at all. NJ's a little grouchy, but generally OK. Ninety later I'm driving back home after taking her to day care.

I'll let you know when I'm ready to leave for day care, Daddy.

4.45 p.m. -- On the way to pick NJ up, I admire a cool, vintage motorcycle parked around the corner, even though I'm not a "motorcycle guy." (What I am, on this day, is a zombie after being up most of the night.) At day care, NJ's teacher tells me she didn't nap well because of coughing. The drive home is highlighted by a trip through the car wash, which amazes a wide-eyed NJ.

5.45 p.m. -- NJ asks if Mommy's home and, when informed that Mommy was still away, crying commences. Once we're inside and NJ sees I'm not lying, crying becomes wailing, and "wailing" becomes the Theme of the Evening. Literally, the worst I've ever seen her. NJ wails through play time, dinner, bath (it was shampoo night, never a picnic under the cheeriest of circumstances), post-bath play time, and bedtime. A list of things that upset NJ greatly during this period includes (but isn't limited to):

• Daddy asking for one of her many Cheddar Bunnies (not taking one, mind you, but asking);
• Her sippy cup;
• Getting ready for her bath;
• Being placed in the bath;
• Being asked repeatedly to sit down in the bath;
• Getting her hair wet;
• Getting her hair shampooed;
• Getting her hair rinsed;
• Being asked to get out of the tub;
• Being presented with the wrong book during post-bath Reading Time;
• Learning that it absolutely, positively is time to go to bed.

8 p.m. -- I walk out of her room, and within 20 seconds NJ has stopped wailing. She doesn't peep again for the rest of the evening. I eat some well-deserved ice cream.

FRIDAY

1.30 a.m. -- The roar of what sounds like a vintage motorcycle engine wakes me. It starts up and immediately dies. Whoever's trying to start this engine spends the next 20 minutes revving, or trying to rev, it. There is time for tinkering, then more attempts, and finally the thing starts. Then there's a good five minutes of roaring engine noise, as if someone was hot-rodding a vintage motorcycle up and down the street. During this 45-minute ordeal, not one sound emits from the baby monitor.

6.30 a.m. -- I walk into NJ's room and she's already awake, and ... laughing? Laughing! "Mommy's gone," she says, smiling. A good night's sleep is key to acceptance of bad news, apparently -- a fresher perspective and all that. She smiles and giggles through breakfast and eventually marches into day care with a determined jaunt. I must have pinched myself five times during this period.

10 a.m. -- The Wife calls to say she'll be home early today. I perform a celebratory dance in the basement.

Now NJ's got a little fever, so if she was coming down with something that certainly explains her wild behavior. I'm just glad The Wife's back. This morning, I didn't even hear it when NJ woke up at 3 a.m.

The Fall Of The House Of Dad Solo

This place has been a sick ward for so many days now that I've lost count. So much cold and flu medicine has been consumed around here lately that I'm worried about driving, lest I get pulled over and fail a DUI test. Ghosts of Black Plague victims have been walking our hallway, occasionally asking if we're "ready to go now." We've been so sick -- How sick have you been? -- that vultures are perched on the back fence, wearing bibs and scanning a wine list. I mean, we've been sick.

And, in a plot twist that should surprise no one, it seems that NJ brought it home from day care. She ran a fever of varying degrees for four consecutive days and had a bad cough, too (not to mention a molar coming in at the same time). I've been congested and had a sore throat and wicked cough. The Wife has had all the above and was hit the hardest, and became so desperate she sent me out yesterday to buy a neti pot . Thankfully for the child, she was already asleep last night when her mother used the pot for the first time.

Things have been so bad that The Wife had to abruptly shut down production of an adorable toddler video:

Worst cameo ever.

NJ recovered first (see above) and seems well and good now, but Man! there were some rough days. The difference between a sunny, delightful NJ who wants to walk and climb and explore and talk and a dour, cranky NJ who wails if you look at her wrong is so vast there aren't any metaphors to capture its essence. Me? I'm mostly OK, too (other than a tick in my throat). The Wife is still dragging, but hopefully the worst is behind her.

Hallelujah! She's Sick

We got some good news today: NJ has two ear infections -- one for each ear!

Good news? Ear infections are GOOD NEWS? !)@&+%#*&#@, Daddy!

OK, maybe illness isn't good, particularly a double-barreled ear situation. But after a couple of days when I thought she was turning into the Awfullest Toddler Ever, at least now we know what's up with that. She's been wailing at the drop of a hat -- including early in the morning, which today meant that I had to get up a good ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off. (I know ... right?!?) She'd sit in her high chair and scream blue murder; she'd lay on the bed and scream herself crimson. Basically, she used every ominous color at her disposal to let us know about her discomfort.

Originally we thought it was a troublesome tooth coming in, but last night The Wife noticed NJ grabbing at her ear a lot, so she took her in this a.m. and the pediatrician handed down this diagnosis. Now NJ has been properly medicated and is asleep upstairs, The Wife is working from home, and I'm hard at work here in the basement office (or will be as soon as I finish this).

The Party's Over

Turn out the lights, the party's over
They say that all good things must end

Certain NJ-related developments around the household have that chorus running through my head at seemingly regular intervals. (It's usually Dandy Don Meredith's voice in my head, what with me being a football fan and a child of the '70s and all, but Willie's version is just so damn smooth. You're welcome!) The kid that I used to rave about, well ... oh, I'm still raving. But things aren't like they used to be. To wit:

Crying and whining. The kid was pretty good about this for a long, long time. Now, though, she's learned that crying and whining gets results. It really started during the Daycare Sickness Jubilee, and who could blame her for crying and whining then? Not me. But -- and it seems like some sort of world record -- she's been illness-free for at least a week now. The crying and whining? It's survived. Long ago, I think it was in NJ's first week, someone warned us against bending to the will of a baby who would "manipulate us." It was premature advice -- I didn't think a one-week-old knew much from manipulation -- but now I'm starting to get it. Particularly when she throws a loud, blubbery six-second fit and then calmly, coolly inserts her thumb in her mouth and clams up. Plotting her next move, no doubt.

Sleeping. I said once before that the contently sleeping infant who made us the envy of new parents all across north Seattle was long gone, and it's still true even though the daycare colds and bugs are gone. She can be counted on to wake up once per night these days. Thankfully it's not as bad as when she was sick -- last week, her nose was so stuffed up that when she sucked her thumb, she couldn't breathe. I imagine that was pretty frustrating for the little kid. Again, though, it's better now that -- for the moment -- she isn't sick. Also, I'm sure this can be blamed in part on her teething: Her teeth took their sweet time showing up, and now they're making up for lost time -- three are coming in now on the top, maybe even four. So we coasted for a while there on the teething front, and now it's catching up to us. This is a factor in the crying/whining, too, I'm sure.

Eating. NJ is no longer the Hungry Monkey who'll eat whatever is put in front of her. The first thing she struck off her to-eat list? Broccoli. She seems to get pickier by the day. And worse, she's started holding out for the things she likes best. A couple of evenings ago I made the mistake of saying the word "yogurt" aloud, and she was inconsolable (see "Crying and whining," above) until The Wife was shoveling creamy, peachy goodness into her mouth.

Preferring her mom to me. This one is the toughest to take. NJ's shown a decisive preference for The Wife, as compared to Dad Solo. The Wife brings her upstairs in the morning and she can't put her down on the bed with me to get dressed because NJ starts crying. The Wife goes into the kitchen to make dinner and she can't leave NJ with me because the kid starts crying; instead, she sits in her high chair in the kitchen and watches her mom. It's not that she dislikes me or anything -- she just was practicing standing up and beamed at me every time for approval -- it's just that she is into her mom right now and makes it clear. She's playing favorites and right now I'm lagging. The Wife spent an hour at day care last Friday for some pumpkin-carving goings-on, and a couple was there with their kid. The mom left and the kid started crying in dad's arms. The Wife leaned over to another father and said, "I wish my husband was here to see this, he'd feel better." The man (allegedly) replied, "Happens at our house, too. It's normal." I put a year into caring for her exclusively, you'd think I'd have some good will stored up by now. But: No. I still have to earn it every day.

Saint NJ's Infirmary

What's worse than having a stomach virus that makes you throw up a lot?

Maybe having that virus travel further through your intestinal tract, and dealing with the fallout from that?

And what if you added not one, not two, but three new teeth making their gum-breaking debut simultaneously?

And then, let's say, all three of those conditions hit at once. And on the weekend you turned fourteen months, too boot. Is that something you might enjoy?

Yeah, NJ's not enjoying either, let me tell you. Tired, whiny, no energy. The kid's scuffling.

The patient, in happier times (almost a month ago).

To be fair, though, NJ's whining has not escalated from her whining that I've been whining about lately. She's been sick on and off for about a month now, and she's been going to day care for a month and a half -- do the math there -- and when she had a stuffy head you could tell it frustrated her not to be able to breathe through both nostrils without all the snot and snot bubbles. But this is the first time I've seen her really look sick: pale (except the red cheeks from teething), wan, and a sort of tired, resigned. "when will this be over?" look in her blue eyes. She's been smiling some, too, but it's a little weary. There's might even be a little resignation to it (that I'm probably projecting). She's drinking water and Pedialyte and eating yogurt, and hopefully will graduate to Jello tonight. I put a bland rice-and-broccoli lunch in front of her today and the look she shot me was best described as "exasperated desperation." "You have got to be kidding me, old man!" her eyes said.

And the teeth: All on the top ridge, in various stages of unveiling. She's had only two teeth for so long now I'd almost forgotten more were due to debut. Two are through the gum and the third is right behind, so hopefully the worst of that is over.

All that said, NJ is a tough little tyke. She's still standing up and looking around for congratulations, crawling around the basement (a little slower), chortling at her dad's "anything for a laugh" act, and doing brainy things like putting a soft round block into a soft square block that has round hole in the center, and then popping it out again. She's down, but she ain't out.

Doofus Entertains Sick Child: Film At Eleven

NJ was much more into this before I got the camera, naturally, both because I was getting a lot closer to her ("all up in her grill," as the kids say) and because she naturally ratchets down the happy-happy when the lens falls on her. Because she's all bashful and stuff. But this still puts a big smile on my face.

BLARGH

NJ started day care 28 days ago.

Her first day care cold surfaced the following week. That lasted for a few days, and the cough that came with it has stayed behind and intensified to the point that, like clockwork, she'd had hacking fits around midnight or 1 a.m. every night for close to a week now. And they last a long time. The pediatrician says it's just that, a cough and nothing more. But it sounds like NJ's a two-pack-per-day smoker.

The Wife was pretty sick over the weekend, too. It didn't last long, but it was brutal.

Me? I've had a stuffy head and nasty cough for going on three weeks now. A couple of days ago I was unfortunate enough to catch whatever The Wife had over the weekend. Yesterday I went to bed at 4 p.m. I've mowed through more Sudafed, Tylenol PM, cough lozenges and other medications in the past few days than I did in the previous calendar year.

All of this I blame on day care.

What's in my lunch box? Disease, virus, bugs, sickness. Have some, Daddy!

Aaaaaaaaannnd ... There It Is

NJ is home today with her very first day care cold. The new blog name suggested here is not fully on the mark, though, as The Wife is working from home today as well. We'll both be taking care of the little tyke and firing off e-mails and the like during naps and such.

NJ's cough would scare you if you heard it while walking down a long, dark hallway, and she occasionally rumbles the phlegm in her throat like an old subway car coming to an emergency stop. And there's such a constant slick sheen under her nose you'd think British Petroleum is in charge of her sinuses. But she's in very good spirits:

Eh, things could be worse.