Two Down...

During the day, I've been working out in my office, and Nicole has been taking care of Noah. This involves lots of picking up and putting down our heavy little infant. Last Thursday, Nicole's back just gave out. She was in a lot of pain, and needed straight bedrest for several days.

So I took over all the shifts. Of course, around Monday my back was hurting a lot too. I haven't thrown out my back completely like my wife, but I'm pretty close. Now we're both tired, in pain, and stressed out.

Then our friend, Laura, volunteered to come over and help. She's an angel. We are very concerned for her back, but she's a Pilates instructor, so she's good at tightening her core.

Yesterday, she did laundry, dishes, bottle sterilization, and she helped us both do back-strengthening exercises. She even told us the complicated story of where hydrogenated oil comes from.

She knows everything, but in that good way. I'm not sure what we would have done without her.

The Many Faces of Baby

Ninja Baby waits for the right moment to swing into action.

Regular Baby just swings.

Sleepy Baby also conveniently holds Mommy's purse.

I Knew He'd Be A Music Lover, But...

Sometimes, the only way to get him to sleep is to play some nice loud rock music, and plunk him by the speaker. He loves a kick drum and a solid bassline.

Consoling the Inconsolable

One of the hardest things for me about having a baby is that every now and then, Noah's just done. Finished. Through with it all. His cry could stop traffic. Air traffic.

And in those moments, we have a few tools at our disposal:


Tummy Time! He seems to enjoy this a lot. He just looks around and tries to eat his hands.

The Mommy Shush. For some reason, he's not a big fan of the Daddy Shush.

He is a fan, however, of the Daddy Circus. Mommy does it too. It involves dancing like a crazy person till you're tired and your back hurts. Occasionally, it also involves bouncing on a big red ball.

I'm not kidding.

Thank God for the Baby Bjorn. Sometimes it's the only thing that will quiet him. And he almost always falls right to sleep in it. However, the aforementioned back hurtage can be an issue here as well.

When we get really desperate, music always works.

He's lying on Brahms.

Another small miracle is the Womb Bear. It makes womb sounds, and has a handy volume control. Babies love it...though it freaks most adults out.

This is the goal. Some nights it takes a lot more work than others.

Music Poll

I'm doing some research for an upcoming project. I'd love it if you could help me out.

A Flaw In Zombie Logic

I love zombies. I just think they're hilarious. I'm a sucker for a good (or bad, for that matter) zombie movie. On Halloween three years ago, I forced Nicole to do a zombie double-feature: 28 Days Later and the newer Dawn of the Dead (with Sarah Polley).

This was a bad idea.

She's never been a fan of scary movies, but I thought it would be fun to try again. I had a good time. She kind of had a good time-ish. But since then, three years ago, she wakes up in the night seeing scary zombie images. She envisions parts of those movies that I don't even remember.

So lately, in the night, when she wakes up to feed Noah, she starts thinking about zombies. She pointed out something very interesting to me last night, that I had never thought of.

Say I'm a zombie. That means I'm infected. I want to eat people/brains. Say I find somebody who's not infected...perhaps you. So I bite you. Now wouldn't I just keep eating you till you're gone? (My friends would help! I don't have a huge appetite). So then, wouldn't this prevent you from becoming a zombie, thus preventing any new zombies from ever coming to "life?" Wouldn't there just be tons and tons of mostly eaten almost-zombie carcasses?

But in any zombie movie you see, I would just bite you once or twice, enough for you to be infected, and then scurry (or slog) on my way. Why? I was hungry for brains! Would you show up starving to the salad bar at Sizzler and grab one bite of bacon -- just to make your point? (Well maybe, but the bacon at Sizzler is terrible.)

Tired of Sad Songs

I'm tired of writing melancholy songs. I want to write happy songs. I think, for most artists, it's easier to just automatically go to that melancholy place. That's why when you go to coffee houses, you just hear people whining about their sad sad lives. "Sing your therapy."

Nic told me that her college professor used to say, "The rarest thing to see in an artist is joy."

I'm ready to start busting out the joy. I mean, I grew up on a steady diet of They Might Be Giants! Anyway, if people want to hear a sad song, I have an extensive back-catalog...

The Sleep Gallery

Win/Win

Nicole loves to feed Noah, and Noah loves to eat.

Bear Bottom

Kicking & Screaming

Sometimes we get very upset.

Poopdate!

Update on the poop situation. Yesterday afternoon, Noah pushed out a hard Playdough-like substance. It was like the dam holding in the real stuff.

We have liftoff.

He's now Champion Pooer once again.

Happy Mothers Day To All!

Warm wishes to all the Moms out there. I've always had a lot of respect for what you do, but much more so now.

Nicole, I love you. You're an amazing Mom. The most amazing-est. You picked it up real quick. I can't believe how great you are at it already.

I think the world of you.

Internal Affairs (AKA Where Did The Poop Go?)

WARNING: This post is dense with poo. Turn back now.
______________________

When you become a parent, you automatically become preoccupied with poop. You look for it, check the consistency and color, listen for it, dream about it...We have a Poop Chart.

Newborn babies are supposed to have meconium poops (black, sticky, nasty-smelling poops) for a little while at the beginning. Noah never had these. He was laying out some nice seedy green poos his very first day. We immediately declared him Champion Pooer. (Although we did not give him a crown. If we did, I imagine it would be a stinky one.) Since then, he's been popping out poop left and right.

When he poops, we praise him. "Go Noah! Yay! You pooped!" This can only continue for so long. I imagine him as a 20-year old, sitting in a public restroom cheering, "Yes! That was awesome! That poop rocked!"

One time, after pooping an inordinately large amount, I waited ten minutes (let him finish!), then started to change his diaper. It was really a lot of poo. A bucket of poo. So much poo. I got the clean diaper under him, and he (seizing a wonderful opportunity) squeezed out a lovely thin toothpaste-like trail of New Poo. I was annoyed, and strangely impressed.

However, a disturbing trend has developed in the last few days: no poop. This is bad. Little Noah is experiencing his very first bout of constipation. Lately, after he eats, he makes terrifying grunting noises and sour W.C. Fields faces. It's all very AARP. I'm sure it's hard for him, but he sounds like he's climbing Mount Kilimanjaro using only his pinky fingers.

We're hoping for a special little brown delivery sometime today (and I'm not talking UPS -- It's Sunday). We'll be listening for it. Otherwise, we call the doctor tomorrow.

My Son & His Dad's Dad

Noah and Grandpa Gerry.

What's In A Name?

Can anyone tell me what the difference is between these two? I've tasted them. They're the same. Even the pictures feature the same ingredients on the spoon, arranged differently. Same veggies, same chicken, even the exact same rotini noodles.

They came in a "chicken pack" (ewww) together, so there must be some difference.

Anyone?

As Tired As We Look

It was a long night.

Tiny Fingers

Multi-Instrumentalist

He plays a mean air guitar.

And his air clarinet isn't bad either.

Ahhhhh.

Just lounging.

Likes & Dislikes

Noah hates taking baths.

But he loves to eat.

And sleep.

And sleep...