When Dad's Head Weighs Forty Pounds

I've been sick all week. It started last Saturday with a very sore throat, which ebbed a bit the following day before hitting again on Monday with full force, along with a stuffed head and all the other bells and whistles that accompany a cold. It was so bad that The Wife worked from home yesterday so she could look after NJ and, to a lesser extent, me. I even had to skip going out to watch the NFL Draft with The Guys, something I've only been looking forward to since last April. (Longer, actually -- Dallas didn't have a first-round pick last year, so I was already anticipating this year's draft two years ago. But I digress.) After about 18 hours on the couch yesterday (the Draft, 'Blade Runner' on blu-ray, etc.), I seemed to have turned the corner and hopefully will be right again by the time the weekend starts this evening.

So with me lugging around what felt like a giant concrete head, hocking and nose-blowing and spitting all day, and slipping into the occasional Nyquil-induced funk, you may ask: How did things go with the kid? Things went fine. Monday and Tuesday went as per usual, and we even went for very long walk on Tuesday -- to the drugstore for throat lozenges. The bad day was Wednesday, when I was laid too low to do anything other than sit around. And NJ was a champ. She played with her bazillion toys and napped like a pro and didn't complain about anything, ever. Which leads me to the buried lead of this post:

At eight-plus months, NJ is a very happy baby.

Yesterday she started fussing and crying at about 5 p.m., and after a few minutes deliberation The Wife and I realized she didn't get a meal after her afternoon nap and was hungry. So she got a bottle, and I tried to think back to the last time she'd cried like that. And I couldn't remember. I can count on one hand the number of times she's woken up in the night crying. Putting her down for a nap, or at bedtime, used to mean enduring a five- or ten-minute temper-tantrum cry; now she hits the mattress and either goes to sleep or jibbers and jabbers to herself for a while until she's out. (The Thumb helps, too.) No crying on wake-up, either -- oh, perhaps a couple of baby shrieks, but once you're in the room you're greeted by a smile that'll melt your heart and put a cartoon bluebird on your shoulder. And yesterday, I was laying on the couch when I realized that I'd been hearing NJ laughing hard for a couple of minutes straight. I got up to find she and The Wife having a laugh-off at the high chair. The Wife was damned if she could tell me what started it. Organic laugh-offs are the best.

I could go on forever about this stuff, but if you want more Internet cheese I suggest you go here. I need to keep in mind the unwritten rule that hangs over this blog, which is that while all these things are new and wonderful to me, I'm late to the game and all parents have been there and done that. But mostly, I feel like I'm jinxing the whole thing by typing it out like this. So I'll end it here and go blow my nose.

Change for a Fiver

NJ hit the five-month mark on Friday, and she and I hit our (approximate) one-month mark as a daughter-homedaddy duo. The biggest thing I've noticed in the past month is the incredible ramping up of her personality. She's all smiles lately, and is very interested in whatever's going on. Mostly, though, she's 'talking' all the time. Up until recently she would jabber randomly and occasionally. Now she's jibbering constantly, and at us. Directly at us. She has things to say, orders to give, pleas to make, points to emphasize. It's fun watching her figure out how to use her mouth and vocalize; the tongue makes regular appearances now, and The Wife was delighted when NJ blew her first true raspberry a couple of days ago.

We're also getting solid food into the mix, and NJ is digging that, too. I was a little nervous about it because we had a tiny bit of trouble getting her to eat from a bottle. She loved her milk-and-rice-cereal concoction, though -- leaning forward toward the spoon, opening wide, and eating more of it than she didn't eat. And there was your standard-issue adorable baby-food-on-the-chin mess, of course. I was thrilled to be able to break out the ridiculously cool Rolling Stones bib, too. A friend commented that it's probably the same one Mick and Keith are using these days.

Tonight The Wife and I are going out to dinner. We've done it once before, when my parents were in town, when we sat down to eat at 5 (two margaritas each AND dessert!) and were home by 6:30. Tonight will be an early-bird special, too. We're dropping her off with a couple who has a son who's two weeks older than NJ, and will be returning the babysitting favor this coming weekend. The Wife has been nervous about leaving NJ with others, parents or friends or whoever, but our first outing went off without a hitch and that put her at ease, so hopefully there won't be any hiccups tonight.

Road Trip!

Today I took NJ in to my old office to meet my team. It's in Bellevue, across Lake Washington -- the farthest she's ever been from the cozy lair that is our home. She was an adorable little rattle-wielding chatterbox on the drive over, and the first half of our visit on the eighth floor was great. Folks who only knew her from photos on the Internet and my constant bragging were delighted to see her, and some immediately asked to hold her. (My team leader, who met me in the lobby, snatched her up the second she saw her.) NJ did her usual thing, soaking it all in -- wide-eyed, smiling occasionally and cooing once in a while.

Did things take a turn? Why, yes ... yes, they did.

The first indication that the mood was changing came when my team leader said "Oops" and held NJ away from her blouse a bit to reveal a couple of small spit-up spots. (She has two kids, so she knows.) NJ was passed around some and started to get cranky. Maybe all the attention put her in I-vant-to-be-alone mode. The clock on the wall said it was time for her to eat, then nap, and when I pulled a bottle of formula out of my bag, her eyes lit up and she reached for it. We repaired to my manager's office and NJ ate for a while, but after finishing up she still wasn't in a better mood. A couple more people stopped by, and NJ yakked a big stream of white goo onto the woman who was brave enough to hold her, straight down the good sport's shirt. ("It's OK, I have buttons," she said, pointing to the sweater she would button up later to hide the stain.) I ended up walking NJ out to the elevators as she cried some more and others stole quick glimpses of the Flickr Princess.

Once you're out of the parking garage and on the street, it's a five-minute drive to the highway that leads back to Seattle. Before we reached the on-ramp, this was the scene in the back seat:


(Yeah, that dog mirror is pretty obnoxious. I try to take it down whenever NJ isn't in the car, but it's all the way in the back seat, and I don't always remember ...)

Overall, NJ's personal appearance was a success. She was adorable and I was able to use some of my best baby stories and stay-at-home dad stuff on a new audience. The visit was late in her meal-nap time frame, so crankiness was easily explained. I'm happiest that she readily smiles at new people. One person we met said that's a sign that she's seeing lots of smiles and happy time at home. I certainly hope that's the case.