Archives for category: Random Thoughts

I understand the need for a pacifier.  Sort of.  Yes, the sucking reflex soothes babies.  With the undeveloped brain firing off a limited number of primitive requests, the sucking action onto said “plug”, nipple, bottle, or ever lasting gobstopper functions to satiate both the infant mind and body.  The motion effectively helps newborns cope with the cold, cruel world they are unmercifully pushed into.

But when do you take the “paci” away?  Some parents don’t care to remove it from usage.  These kids grow up to become finger and, if flexible enough, toe sucking adults.  (If left untreated, these adults will revoltingly desire to nibble on their friends’ and families’ digits.)  Other parents take away the pacifier too early and the child never emotionally develops past the second grade.  (Just kidding…maybe.)

The wife and I are in two separate camps on the pacifier.  She doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with Worm using it until he can swap the pacifier for cigarettes.  I think it should have been dropped after Worm hit the 12-month mark.  We couldn’t agree on a solution, so the safe thing for me to do at the time was leave well enough alone.

But during a recent dinner discussion of current events (Cyprus bankruptcy,  North Korea missiles, and baby pacifiers), I felt the urge to raise the plug question from the dead.

“I’m ready to toss out the pacifier.  Worm’s two years old today.  He doesn’t need it anymore.” I asked.  (This is a very effective way to ask a question and get the answer you desire, especially if the other party doesn’t reply.)  After much back and forth, the wife and I were left hot and bothered.  (No, sadly not the good kind of hot and bothered.)

I don’t know what happened later that same evening, but Hell may have frozen over.  I was granted one opportunity to remove the Worm’s pacifier on his birthday.  Hence, I gave him his first birthday un-present.  (I’m sure there will be more un-presents in the future, especially if he becomes one of those kids that whines about how lame his gifts are and how Jimmy John across the street got something way better…)

Anyhow, I took my chance.  In putting the Worm to bed that night, I swiped the plug, turned out his lights, and closed the door.  He fumbled around in the dark looking for it for about 2 minutes.  He screamed and fussed for a few minutes more and that was the end of it.

Now we’re going on the third night in a row with no withdrawals.  Worm’s adjusted well.  His coping mechanisms have matured as much as he has.  A couple books and a shot of rum are all it takes to get the boy to sleep.  Well done, son!

Gavin – 23; Dad – 12 (You get a point for showing a little maturity for your age!  And I’m giving myself a point for convincing your mother to give this a try.  I think she was more attached to the pacifier than you were.)

Worm, You Can't Carry a Concealed Pacifier Without a Permit!

Worm, You Can’t Carry a Concealed Pacifier Without a Permit!

Worm, I wish you a happy birthday.  Exactly two years ago, you were born and you haven’t been out of my heart since.  Our life together has been very special and I cherish it.  I am excited to see what the future brings.  I love you.
 
Your proud father,
d.
 
DSC_3947sm
Can I Wipe My Nose on Your Shoulder, Dad?

Can I Wipe My Nose on Your Shoulder, Dad?

We’re all incredibly sick this week,    (9)

Save for the two with the canine physique.    (10)

One with a hack and a cough so loud,

That the force of it stirs a small dust cloud.

Snot from a nose so tiny, it’s odd

To see such outpouring. Wad after wad.

Another has fallen, now his dad.

No strength from his arms, nor stamina had.

Sickness of both sore throat and green phlegm,

Plus stuffy nose to accompany them.

Mother has had a fever of late.

A temperature rise that wouldn’t abate.

The suffering mom, in a woeful state,

Rested all day long to get herself straight.

And the youngest of all, a wee tot

Sprung a leak in her eye, I kid you not!

It’s not so bad yet, though it is red.

Please stay well.  We’ve no more room in our bed!

Worm, you’re the one that brought the germs in,

And shared them so gladly with all your kin.

Your mouth should not lick everything dear.

Else we’ll suffer again like this.  You hear?

Normal people will sleep between the hours of 10pm and 6am.  I’m not normal.  I’m not allowed to be normal, thanks to all the sleep-sucking parasites I cohabit with.  Anytime I try to close my eyes, each one takes a turn prying them open.  And when I’m awake dealing with the loudest one, the others are resting up for the next attack.

The fun begins at 2:30 am.  (That’s sarcasm.  I’m old.  Real fun for me begins at 4:30 in the evening, when restaurants offer Early Bird dinner specials.)  When I get up this ridiculously early and look out the bedroom window, I see zombies walking the streets and sniffing for lost souls.  My house always beckons their collective nose and I hope one day to invite them in to steal me away.  Because I’m certain that eternal suffering of the undead is more tolerable than sleep deprivation.

It’s time to feed Smush.  Kitchen.  Fridge.  Warmer on.  Pee.  Warmer off.  Feed her the bottle.

15 minutes later, it’s burping time.  Light bouncing.  Nothing.  Soft patting.  Nothing.  Firm patting.  Nothing.  Really firm patting that borders on child abuse.  Nothing.  (And she’s sleeping right through all of it.)  Then I pull out the trump card, my patented baby origami technique.

“Pah!” comes from one end of the Smush.

Was that a burp, a fart, or was I dozing off?  Whatever it was, it’s good enough for me.  I give up.  It’s 3:30.  I change a diaper and return her to the co-sleeper crib.  Ah, back to me bed!

“Ugh!  Uuuuuugh!  Wah!”

Greaaaaat (a la Bill Lumbergh).  Sounds like someone’s got a case of the Mondays stubborn flatulence.  Could it be that I didn’t properly purge the little one earlier?  (Logic seldom prevails in the wee hours of the morning.  I blame Smush’s GI bubbles on my wife’s milk, not my poor technique.)  I repeat the above burp sequence.  Ok, who am I kidding?  I skip to the origami and begin folding Smushie forwards, backwards, sideways and wringing her out like a wet sponge.

Again, it’s “Pah!”

Music to my ears.  She and I both nod off…for about 6 minutes.  Then another “Ugh!” from across the room.  She’s straining again.  So I get up to hang myself in the bathroom squeeze the baby farts out.  And the same tired (pun intended) story loops in 6 minute increments until about 6 am.

Ah, my 6:30am alarm clock is going off.  Wait.  I didn’t set an alarm clock.  The music is coming from Worm’s room.  He’s awake and I’m hearing it through the wall.  I pull another pillow over my head to drown out the sound.  It’s working…until 7am rolls around…

…and Duncan is pawing at the door to be let out.  My pillow apparently doesn’t muffle this sound.  I imagine if it would muffle Duncan’s screaming when I smother him with it?  I jump out of bed to answer the obstinately impatient animal.  (If I wait more than 10 seconds, he most surely will scratch again.)

Open the back door.  I force Frodo to go outside with Duncan.  1 minute later, Duncan’s back inside the house.  Frodo is out there smelling the flowers…every stinking one.  He’s oblivious to me playing the role of doorman for him.  I call him to come inside.  Mind you, Frodo’s old and losing his already selective hearing and his eyesight.  Of course, he doesn’t listen or hear me.  (Yes, they don’t mean the same thing.)  The incredible desire to throw the kitchen knives at him almost becomes reality.  I just don’t have the energy to try.  The furry ba$tard stays outside.  I close the back door and go back to my room.

I crawl under the warm covers only to hear Smushie starting to stir again.  It’s 7:10 and about time for another feeding.  And as soon as I sit down to put the bottle in her mouth, Frodo is barking to come back inside the house.  (The only thing that will make Frodo more obedient is a taxidermist…and yes, I’ve thought about dropping him off a little ‘early’.)

Smush is fed, burped, and changed.  I’m so fed up and hot under the collar that there’s no way my frustration will let me lay back down.  So I go to the kitchen and make my breakfast.  And by 9 am, EVERY ONE OF THOSE DAMN CREATURES IS FAST ASLEEP…except Worm, who is speeding around the house in fifth gear.  It’s his turn to keep me awake for the rest of the day.

This is What I Dream it Would Be Like...If I Could Actually Dream.

This is What I Dream it Would Be Like…If I Could Actually Dream.

When Smushie came out, I knew she was Worm’s sister.  She had such similar features to him, I thought that maybe we were the first couple in history to have identical twins born years apart.  But someone broke that ground already.  (Reuben and Floren Blake are twins born 5 years apart.)

Anyways, using the magic of photo editing software, I made a picture of both of our children side-by-side.  The game is to guess which one is Smush.

Which One Is Which One?

Which One Is Which One?

The battle of wits has begun!

All you have to divine is what type of person am I!  Am I the type to put the pictures in order or not?

Now it’s easy to think that the photo on the left is Worm because of the blue hat.  But if the hospital ran out of pink hats that day, you WOULD BE surely mistaken!

You may also think that I would subconsciously put Smushie in the picture on the right because she was born AFTER the Worm!  But, I’m cunning enough to know that you might think so and maybe that’s why I put her picture on the left!

But I am a man and it’s OBVIOUS that I think that men are always right, so maybe I had to put the photo of Worm on the right!

Though, it’s perfectly clear that the whole idea of this game is to trick you!  If so, then it would be preposterous for me to keep the pictures in order and I would HAVE TO put Smushie’s photo on the left!

And you may assume that the dark ambient light would be on Worm and the soft light projected on Smushie, because Worm was born at night and Smush was born in the morning.  But, I KNOW YOU KNOW THIS! It would be too undeniable for your naked eye to see that the picture of Worm was indubitably on the left and therefore Smushie on the right!!!

I know you’re trying to trick me into giving away something.  It won’t work!

If that wasn’t clever enough, then maybe they are both pictures of Smushie and I have had you utterly fooled this whole time!

Ha ha ha!

Related Links:

Twins Born Five Years Apart

I'll Take The Top Spot From Worm And Be Daddy's Favorite!  I Just Need To Sleep On It Some More...

Sleep Little One…There’s Plenty of Room In My Heart For You Too!

Smush, you’re here!  There’s no question, you’re mine!  (9)

Such hairy little ears and a beet red behind!  (11)

Like daddy, you’re dark!  Great for the sun!

We can play on the beach until the day’s done.

Worm and his mom can’t stay long past dawn.

They’ll turn into lobsters and have to be gone!

Together we’ll frolic, with arms locked,

Our sharp elbows jabbing, and bony knees knocked.

My gangly limbs were meant for my lad,

I’ve cursed you with finger toes, please don’t be mad!

You’re a gift to us.  We are so blessed.

Study hard in school and don’t go out half-dressed.

Worm’s in the top spot, remember that.

But listen to daddy and you’ll be there STAT!

Like clean up your room and stay on track

Give me hugs and kisses and never talk back

Or miss curfew or fall into the wrong crowd at school or

Date until you’re 35…and even then, I have to look him over to make sure he’s good enough for you.

I'm Watching You Dad! No Funny Business!

I’m Watching You Dad! No More Funny Business!

TV distorts reality.  Babies don’t come out sparkly and polished.  They’re slippery and slimy.  I’m 99% sure they are covered in condensed milk.  Smush smells and tastes sweet.  (I was curious, so I licked the hair on her head once.  Only once!)

I promise that I won’t do it again today.  The slick layer on the skin is called vernix or vernix caseosa.  And it’s important.

In the name of “leave it the hell alone” over “let’s poke, prod and experiment, etc. and be as invasive as possible because the insurance companies reimburse us very well for doing ‘stuff’ and we can’t lose money because we have a business to run and we have to pay our doctors and nurses to perform procedures, not stand there and watch you perform normal childbirthing activities”, we decided NOT to have Smush bathed.

And now that I’ve read more about it, I see we made the right choice to do nothing!  Yeah!

Research has shown that vernix covers the newborn’s body inside the womb and protects the baby from germs.  What kind of germs?  Well, how about:

If you are unlucky enough to test positive for any of the above microbes such as GBS, leaving the newborn’s vernix intact can also help protect your child.  There are quite a few studies that have been done.  I’ve linked some PubMed articles for the techno-heads.

For those that don’t want to read a bunch of articles, let me put it in plain language.  The vernix is to birth canal as a  hazmat suit is to toxic chemical spill.  (And I mean toxic spill in the nicest sort of way.)  Leave it on the newborn and let it just soak in…

Technical Article Abstract Links

Antimicrobial polypeptides of human vernix caseosa and amniotic fluid: implications for newborn innate defense

First Line of Defense in Early Human Life

The newborn infant is protected by an innate antimicrobial barrier: peptide antibiotics are present in the skin and vernix caseosa

Host defense proteins in vernix caseosa and amniotic fluid