Thursday, November 18, 2010


Teething seems like it really sucks. I don't know if there is any other way to put it. Eve has a hard time napping, she is constantly chewing on her hand, we are always giving her ice cubes (in one of these, typically for feeding fresh fruit), and she has a few gummy chew things.

I don't know if there's an easy way through this, but so far she's doing ok. She's such an easy going little person (says the guy who doesn't spend all day with her, 5 out of 7 days) that it really sucks seeing her in pain.

I don't have good advice for getting through it except to make sure you have chewable things that can go in the freezer. And buy something nice for yourself if you're staying at home with a teething child. Something like a case of wine or a keg of beer. You deserve it.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

One of those days

Eve gets better and better. More active, more yappy, more toothy, more cute, and more lovely. I'm blessed with the perfect wife, the perfect daughter, and three crazy friggin dogs (well, two crazy dogs and one that eats poop).

The hardest part of it all is wishing my Mum was around to be a part of it too. As Christmas, the one year anniversary of her passing approaches, the sadness is coming back more regularly.

She loved my wife, loved our family, and would have loved Eve to pieces.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010


It's come and gone already. I spent a good chunk of time thinking about "what I'm thankful for", as horribly teen-movie that sounds. But in a year of so much change I think it's important to not take anything for granted. So here are a few things I'm thankful for:

1) At 9.5 months, Eve may finally let Amy and I sleep for 5 hour stretches uninterrupted
2) We don't have to pay property taxes again until May
3) There is a faint possibility that we may escape paying $1700 a month for daycare
4) Eve has not found a way to stick her finger in an electrical socket yet
5) I can walk faster than Eve can crawl
6) Eve's massive smiles, with her little teeth growing in
7) The free babysitting we've received care of family and friends

In all seriousness I am thankful for my amazing family, how my heart melts every time I look at Amy and Eve, that we have a roof and jobs and food, that the dogs are pretty damn good most of the time, and I'm extra thankful for the time I had with my Mum.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Blow Out - My Dinner Date with Baby Poo

If you don't have kids, you might not be familiar with the term "blow out". It's a dreaded term for parents and a dreadful thing to happen.

Essentially, a blow out is when what you hope the diaper will catch is not caught by said diaper. And when it is not caught it kind of blows out the sides. Clever name for an awful event.

After a quick jaunt to the fruit market, Amy and I (with Eve in tow) popped in for some delicious Kimchi stew at a great Korean restaurant (Ka Chi) on Bloor. Eve had been a little "backed up" for a bit and was in discomfort all day. This drove us sick with worry, but there's not much to do about it so we were trying to entertain her and enjoy ourselves.

Eve's level of frustration seemed to escalate rather quickly, so I took her out of her seat and was holding her as she bounced about and looked around the restaurant, wooing people with her smiles. Her very, very big smiles.

Turns out the smiles were those of great relief. Relief all over my shorts, shirt, and her leg.

It is not often you have to run out on your hot date (sorry Amy) and loudly whisper, "I have to go, I have shit on my leg".

Parenthood is all glamour, all the time.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Eve and Daddy

DSC_0005, originally uploaded by browstua.

Obsessed with Poo

Best day ever, apparently., originally uploaded by browstua.

I'm not sure if the title of this post will get me the kind of organic search ranking I want, but my life is all about poop.

If it's not the dogs (of which we have THREE now - fostering one) it's Eve.

As much as we're pretty low-stress parents there is still a large part of us that frets about the little shit. Or the lack of shit. Or no shit for a day and a half. And then we get detective-y and start questioning each type of food Eve's had for the last few days.

This isn't something I ever actually aspired to, yet it makes me so damn happy. Not happy because it's shit - that's just weird. Happy because having a family with a beautiful wife and cute-as-hell daughter and 3 dogs (what the hell did we get ourselves into?) is amazing.

It's incredible that something so silly as fretting over your daughter's bowel movements can remind you that life is really damn good.

For the record we think it was the carrots that prevented the pooping.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

6 months and Counting - or - I Know Even Less Than I Thought I Did

There are all kinds of things I haven't updated on. The rolling back and forth, the somewhat sitting, the gurgling that's turned to "conversations" filled with "ba"s. It's all quite invigorating.

Oh yes. There's also been teething.

And solid food.

And in the last 3 or 4 days a serious battle to get her to bed.

It's the battle that raises the most questions, particularly with the introduction of food. We are stuck questioning, "is it her teeth?" The teeth that seemed to stop bothering her a few weeks back. "Is it the solid food unsettling her stomach?"

OR is it that she just doesn't want to sleep?

These riddles of parenthood will be the death of us.

Rivoting, I know.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Tips For Travelling With A Baby

We returned from a trip to Mexico two weeks ago. I think we picked up some reasonable experience that can be shared.

1) No amount of planning is too much - the worst possible thing that could happen is that you end up on vacation missing something very, very important (diapers) or minorly important (baby socks).

2) Don't fear the all-inclusive resort - We were deadset against them for ages; too cool, if you will. Babies change that. Big time. Reasons will follow.

3) Naps are still sacrosanct - If your wee one is young, don't mess with them. It will haunt you and kill you and ruin your vacation.

4) Research the crap out of sunscreen - know which ones are ok for kids (Alaska / snow trips somewhat excluded).

5) If you need a sun tent for your baby, I recommend the Kidco Peapod. It packs up into a tiny little package and has a self-inflating mat. It was exactly what we needed to keep Eve's pasty, chubby legs from getting burned.

6) Don't go too far - the flight to and from Mexico was about 3.5 or 4 hours. That was more than enough. Holy crap. Eve was good on the plane, but "good" for a baby still means bouncing, burping, moving, getting frustrated/bored, and otherwise making parents somewhat annoying (especially on the way back).

7) Bring a babysitter so you can get druuuuuunk. We did not. Being hangover-free is a good consolation I suppose.

There are other little nuances that are probably Eve-specific. I'm sure this list can be expanded upon, but it's a start. In truth vacationing with an almost 5-month-old was pretty easy for us.

I still want to leave her at home next time.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

The Perils of Being a New Parent / Happy Birthday

One of the problems of being a parent is that due to a lengthy absence from the magic juice (booze) your tolerance drops to record lows. Coincidentally, your hangovers soar to epic highs.

It's a perfect storm. And gosh darn it, it's been blustery all morning.

Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife. I love celebrating your birthday (and drinking more than I should).

Monday, May 17, 2010

Get Home Quick!

Originally uploaded by browstua
And this is why I don't like to be at work late. Imagine coming home to two of the most perfect women in the world every day.

No, it doesn't get boring. Love them to death.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Ever felt useless?

As teeth burrow their way through Eve's gums she's developing some finicky habits. One of which includes not letting me put her to bed anymore. She wails when I take her to her room - but only after 7pm.

It's not a nice wail either and it is the most infuriating part of my day. It's happened three days straight.

We developed a routine a while back where I come home and have my time with Eve, give Amy a break, and put Eve to bed. Putting Eve to bed is/was one of the really useful things I could do. I'd spend 15-30 minutes rocking her until she's really sleepy and then put her down. Seems easy enough (though the 30 minute sessions were trying).

I really liked that part of my day and really looked forward to it. And now the little imp has crushed me! And possibly crushed Amy as well. I can't even imagine how much she enjoys her break after 9+ hours of taking care of the baby.

I have no idea how to remedy the situation, I just know that it's incredibly frustrating and trying.

Babies aren't so easy is what I'm trying to say, I guess.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

She's Still People

I can stare at Eve for ages. She's almost 4 months old and I still can't believe she's ours. I can't believe how much she's grown. I can't believe how much she can DO now. I can't believe how much she shits still. I can't believe how cute she is when she laughs.

As much as people say "life has a way of sneaking up on you" I never believed it until this last year. The fact that life has been so good to me is baffling but I happily take it and run with it.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The (Ridiculous) Things I Worry About

I've never done this parenting thing before so I have a few concerns that I'm doing it wrong. "It" being:

1) I'm putting the diaper on too tight and Eve's circulation will be cut off resulting in leg amputation.
2) I will somehow coddle her or dote on her too much or spoil her or somehow turn her into a self-centered narcissist.
3) I will accidentally damage her brain by accidentally pressing my thumb into that soft spot on her skull.
4) Due to excessive attempts at getting her to stand I will somehow ruin her ability to crawl.

Oh, and that whole teaching her how to smoke a bong might eff her up a little too.

Kidding, bongs are for hippies.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Finding Time

The best part about instilling sleep patterns in a child is rediscovering "time". From the point Eve is down to sleep to the point we go to bed, Amy and I have a good 2 hours to ourselves.

Two hours may not seem like much in the course of a day, and I'm sure there are crabby jackasses that would say that's too much, but when you have a funny, beautiful, wonderful wife you tend to want to have her to yourself.

I love Eve to bits. Would die and kill for her, but I have officially graduated to the level of "Daddy who loves his daughter like crazy but is ready to let her sleep for a few hours without staring at her and marvelling at her existence/cuteness/farting 24 hours 7 days a week". 22 hours a day, 7 days a week, thank you very much.

And I'm not apologetic about it. I still marvel at her and dote on her, but just as importantly I marvel and dote on the woman I love. Life is getting somewhat back to normal (though very different) and it's time I bug the hell out of Amy with doting.

So if you'll excuse me, I have sappy text messages to write.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Endangered Species of the Day

As a parent I worry about what I'm getting Eve in to. I hope to god we don't screw everything up too bad before she's able to enjoy things. So in the spirit of being a dirty, carrot-eating hippie, I bring you the Ontario Species at Risk of the Day (with all kinds of ways to share it).

Endangered Species of the Day

My hope is that Eve grows up to see and appreciate all manner of wildlife and nature. I pray, pray, pray that she doesn't have dreadlocks and wear patchouli, but I sure as shit don't want a kid that throws garbage on the ground or is apathetic about the environment.

And I hope she plays hockey. She'll be Canada's next Wickenheiser or Campbell (but with better hair).

Thursday, April 1, 2010

No Time For Parents

Eve is 3 months old now and the changes are incredible. She's a bit more mobile and alert, is bigger, cuter, gurgles and coos, and she poos with a whole new level of ferocity. She's incredible to watch and dote on. In fact, the words Amy and I say most often seem to be, "she's so friggin cute I can't even deal with it" or something to that effect.

So we spend a ton of time doting and waiting on her happily, and it's good. But as she grows a bit older it seems like we're leaving less time for ourselves and more time to entertain and stare at her during the day.

Enter night however, and she sleeps pretty early leaving at least 3 hours for Amy and I to obsessively fly through episodes of Six Feet Under (at least 2 a night).

My point is that it's hard going from living only for yourselves to supporting a child, particularly one who's growing faster than a weed on crack, and finding that balance is tricky. We're slowly learning how to find time to do our own thing. I think it's imperative to have a good sitter (family is fantastic) a strong committment to each other that you'll do something for yourselves, and the patience of a saint.

...and a wall unit filled with scotch (for nights that you can't go out).

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Go To Sleep

Sometimes a baby just can't get to sleep fast enough. Or they just can't sleep long enough. Or Daddy needs to take his "medicine" (scotch) and can't do so in front of baby without feeling intense shame.

It's times like these I'm thankful that I'm such a brilliant poet and song-writer. Below are a few of my favourite lullabyes I've written Eve to help soothe her to sleep.

GO TO SLEEP (sung to Swing Low Sweet Chariot)
Go to sleep (x4)
Little Eve
Go to Sleep (x4)
(repeat until you hate hearing those words or the baby is asleep - whichever comes first)

DADDY LOVES YOU (sung to Swing Low Sweet Chariot)
Daddy loves you, but please sleep
Mommy's fed you and Daddy needs scotch.
You are cute, but not when you're angry.
In fact when you're angry, you look mean.
(repeat until baby is less mean looking)

STOP GROWING SO FAST (sung to Swing Low Sweet Chariot)
You're a heavy little baby,
And Daddy's arm is getting tired.
If I have to rock you for another hour,
Lactic acid will flood my biceps and I'll need a protein shake.
(repeat until arm gives out or baby falls asleep)

(repeat until you've shushed yourself to sleep and baby is still cooing and gurgling and being cute as all get up)

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

It Wasn't Me

I love being a Dad. I love everything about it - except the stuff I've already complained about. Just forget I wrote all of that.

One of my favourite things is to hold Eve. Holding her in my arms or in one of the myriad carriers we have makes me feel really close to her. It makes me feel like a good Dad. It makes me feel like she knows I love her more than just about anything on the planet (insert sappy wife comment here).

But here's the thing I've learned about babies: they're gassy. And it's not just a little gas. It's not an, "oops, did anybody hear that?" type of gas. It's a fire truck barreling through a city street, canons shooting in rapid succession, trumpet exploding kind of gas.

It's really friggin' funny. And that might be because I have the maturity of an infant, but let's not point fingers here.

Where we might be inclined to point fingers, and this is a serious thought that's gone through my head, is when I'm walking down a happening street or in a quiet store with baby strapped to chest and she lets 'er go. The decibel level her pint-sized butt reaches is epic. There is NO way people can ignore it.

So if people can't ignore it, can I blame it on the baby? I don't think so. No one in their right mind is going to sincerely say, "oh yeah, baby farts - epic. Got it."

I'm screwed. I'm either going to be the jerk dad that blames his baby for everything or the stinky guy that's given up on being a respectful member of society now that he has a child (and why shouldn't I, I ask).

Fart away, baby. Fart away.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Laughing At Babies Crying

Eve had her first vaccinations yesterday. It was highly traumatic for her. For me? Not so much.

I cracked up. I couldn't help it. Don't judge me.

Eve's a pretty low-key kid now that she's 2 MONTHS OLD (time flies, for real. That makes me sound old, but it's true). She had her fussy moments (see previous posts for evidence of Dad-tears), but she seems to have moved on from them. For now...

In the interim, she had her aforementioned shots and screamed like I've never heard a baby scream before. And I laughed. It was the most god awful cry she's made yet but I couldn't help it. I think I was just amazed she had the lungs to let out that wail.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Whoa, she's actually a person

I'm not sure exactly when it happened but recently I started calling Eve by her name.

For a good 4 or 5 weeks, she was "the baby". She'll still be the "the baby" here and there and will definitely get called "a baby" when she's being wimpy, but now she's Eve.

I think it's a big transition for the little terror. Maybe she gets a name because she started sleeping better and Daddy no longer has moments of blistering frustration. Maybe it's because she smiled at us last week. Maybe it's because I can watch her watch her mobile endlessly.

It's probably because I am constantly trying to get her to smile. " Smile for Daddy? Look it's Mommy! Smile for Mommy? You look like you might be happy, can I have a smile?"

She probably thinks her dad is mentally challenged.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I Do All My Learning From The Interweb

I love the internet. A lot. It's one of the few places in the world you can turn to in order to find porn and gardening advice at virtually the same time. But everything the internet has to offer about parenting advice can suck an egg.

Sure, it's helped talk us off a ledge a few times but it's also come really damn close to pushing me off of one too. Ask the wrong question and your child either has polio or gas or whooping cough or tendinitis.

I didn't even think babies could get tendinitis god damn it.

It's hard because you spend the entire pregnancy sick of people giving you advice and then after the baby is born you're looking for it from a few key places (definitely not the cafeteria dude who tells you to hang the baby upside down for 12 minutes a day to ensure they grow tall). And when you don't hear the answer you like or that calms you, you turn to the internet.

And then it doesn't tell you anything.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Feeding The Baby / North American Food Is Boring

I'm really hoping the baby isn't as picky an eater as I was when I was young. I will do everything I can to combat it.

I pulled the following quote directly from an email from Baby Center (yes, I am on the mailing list for Baby Center, and yes it's awesome, and yes I'm an involved father).

While babies throughout the world are dining on complex, flavor-rich cuisine, many U.S. babes are gumming plain, tasteless mush. The reasons behind our love affair with blandness are open to debate, but one thing is certain – they're not based on research.

"The idea that babies should eat only bland food is a myth that has somehow become our cultural norm," says Seattle pediatrician Susanna Block, owner of World Baby Foods, a baby food company. "There's absolutely no science behind it."
In other words, a culinary walk on the wild side won't hurt your baby in the slightest. In fact, breastfed babies have walked that walk already.

Breast milk takes on the flavors of the food the mother eats, Block explains, so if you enjoy a meal at your favorite Indian restaurant and then nurse, your baby will also be enjoying an Indian meal, with its medley of flavors. "To go from diverse, flavorful breast milk to bland, processed foods seems like a step backward," she says.

So far it seems like chili and spicy food don't make the baby happy. That's going to have to change if she's going to take part in Taco Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday that I'm trying to implement. (Thursday is for burgers, weekends are for Indian and Korean).

If Eve doesn't like spicy food I may have to trade her for an 80 year old Mexican man.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010


In an unpacked home, rubbermaid + tea towel = crib

I was speaking with a coworker who is also a new-dad/new-dead-man-walking and we both are experiencing the same feelings of jealousy. Jealous that the Moms get to spend so much time with the babies, jealous that the babies seem to be developing more of a bond with the moms, and jealous that Moms get to see babies do cool/cute stuff first.

That being said, I'm sure as shit not jealous that my wife has to deal with daytime sightings of the Nocturn. Had enough of it last night, thank you very much. If only we could figure out what causes the fussing we'd be happier and more alert parents.

I'm also not jealous of how hard it is to get things done with a fussy baby that needs constant attention and will only let you put her down for short stints. Frankly, I have no idea how Amy's going to have the time to beat Super Mario Bros for Wii (when I finally pick it up).

The baby (perhaps I'll start calling her by her name soon) is one of the best things to happen to us, but the worst thing to happen to productivity since the internet. Hence our semi-unpacked home. And the coat hangers I'm yet to hang up. And the curtains that are still packed (hi neighbours!).

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Bad Dad's Don't Sleep

Eve sits just behind my wife on the list of people I love in this world. I dote on her and miss the two of them every day at work. It kills me to be apart from her for 8+ hours a day.

But when she's awake and fussing from 1am until 5am there is no place I would rather be than anywhere except home. There are few noises that tear through you faster and more harshly than the sound of your crying baby. Quite literally your spine twists into knots and you turn into a whithered (and weathered) old man.

Eve is normally quite good at night. Wakes up to be fed a few times but generally takes it easy. But every once in a while something gets into her and she becomes a beast that we can call the Nocturn.

Some facts on the Nocturn:

The Nocturn doesn't sleep, it just makes a lot of noise, cries, and stares at you blankly when not crying.

The Nocturn is mysterious. It doesn't let you know what it wants it just lets you know it wants SOMETHING and it's your duty to figure out what. OR ELSE.

The Nocturn can not be satiated. Even if you give it everything it could possibly want: new diaper, boob keg-stands, burping, walking, rocking, singing, cooing, weird faces, bad singing, tears, begs, sobs, frustration, more tears, whiskey.

The Nocturn is a brainwasher. You will immediately fall in love with the Nocturn as soon as it sleeps. It becomes the most perfect creature you could possibly imagine and you forget that it almost killed your will to live a scant 4 hours ago.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

The Dumb Shit We Do As Dads pt. 1

Dads are dumb.

Maybe not all dads but I definitely fall into the "dumb" category. I do dumb stuff and the worst part is that I know it's stupid and can't stop myself.

For instance, my (nearly) 3 week old daughter has the same reflexes all babies have; when you lift them up they kick their legs a bit. So lately I've been trying to get her to "work out". Basically this consists of me picking her up, putting her down on her feet (supported), and "spotting" her as she "stands" up. Repeat for 4 sets of 8 (kidding).

She's a strong little baby but for god's sake man! She's a baby not a power-lifter! And the last thing I need is to get her on her feet and walking extra early. We're tired enough as it is carrying her around and cleaning her diapers let alone chasing her as she hunts for freedom from the wretched grip of her evil parents.

It's really exciting to see her develop. She's moving more, her eyes are more alert, and she still craps like a champ. Trying to accelerate the process may just bite me in the ass.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Holy Spit Up Baby

Eve gained roughly a pound and a half in her first two weeks on this planet. She was 6 pounds 4 ounces at birth (which is more than big enough if you ask my wife) and at her latest weigh-in was 7 pounds 10 ounces. These mundane details are no doubt boring for most folks but for me they're proof that babies have magical ways of absorbing calories.
Eve is a chugger. If you could do a keg-stand on a boob she would be all over it. If I (still) drank like she drank I'd be passed out and drunk until next year. Watching her consume so much milk you might think it gluttonous and you'd certainly wonder how the shit it all fits inside of her.

Here's the thing: she is and it doesn't.

For a while I wondered if she actually kept anything down. I've seen some unholy moments in her short life and one of the greatest was when she "spat up" what seemed like a litre of food from her mouth, nose, and it sure as shit would have come out of her tear ducts if they were fully functional (thank god they're not). Every meal is basically a spit-up, but here she is, a perfectly healthy, pot-bellied, glowing baby.
Bulimics would be really pissed off if this happened to them.

Whoa Belly!

Sunday, January 10, 2010

holy shit, baby bjorn!

The sum of the parts! Good god, the sum of the parts is what makes babies so expensive. How we're fooled into saying, "oh it's not that much, let's just buy it" and "this might work, it might help her sleep, it might help us sleep, it might make her a happy and healthy baby".

I should amend that. Some of the the parts that we're summing are bloody expensive.

We now have 3 baby carriers for all kind of different occasions. These carriers range in price from $40 - $180. When Eve is in the most expensive one I feel like she's a heartbeat away from suffocating but my back feels fantastic. When she's in the cheapest I feel like her neck is one reach-for-the-remote away from breaking .

We have spent money to help Eve sleep safer only to discontinue using items 2 days later as the only reason they keep Eve safe is because she doesn't sleep in them and instead stays up until all hours being angry at us and spitting up on whatever is within 50 yards.

What I'm learning is what I really knew before hand. Eve doesn't give a shit. Most of this stuff does nothing to help her. We buy it in hopes of it helping us and instead we go crazy trying to make it work (it never works).

All she really needs is some clothes, stuff to mop up her spit up, and diapers. Oh, and that expensive carrier is pretty fucking fantastic.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

"It's Totally Worth It" - The New Parent's Mantra

Can you find the bags under my eyes?

When we started letting people know about the pregnancy there was a ton of excitement; Ours, our families, our friends, and particularly our friends that were already parents.

Everyone and their sister has something to tell you about pregnancy, labour, and raising a child but parents always add that little something to the end of it: "it's totally worth it". They say this because they're telling you how hard or shitty or insane or maddening something is. An example, " You forget to floss for a week and get old-man breath because you're so tired, but it's totally worth it." And one of the worst parts about pregnancy (outside of the hell a woman goes through) is how incredibly OFTEN you hear things of this nature.

Before the baby got here I thought to myself, "These guys are real wimps. How bad could it be? They just need to relax a little." Now that the baby is here I've learned that they were god damned right. This shit IS hard and it DOES suck sometimes. Between the lack of sleep, the endless diapers, and the fury the damned Rubic's Cube of a sling has unleashed on me it's a wonder I'm not in diapers myself (and I don't even have to breastfeed the baby. My poor wife!).

"It's totally worth it" isn't something said in passing to expectant parents. It's a mantra that all new parents must learn in order to make it through their first days with the baby. I love my daughter more than almost anything on this planet (wife first!) but sometimes I rock myself to sleep gently whispering, "it's totally worth it" while crying.

I cry a single salty tear and then it's time to get up and rock the baby back to sleep.

* side note: men who read this, please understand we have it VERY easy. We don't have any of the hard shit to do so never complain about ANYTHING in front of your wife (if you value your life).
**side, side note: when I wake up to rock the baby back to sleep my wife has already been up for a half hour feeding the ravenous devil. Again, men have it easy.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Surprise! It's your baby's first poo.

There are a lot of things about babies that you hear and assume it's an exaggeration. Sleeping patterns, screaming, coming out covered in hair, coming out looking like Benjamin Button, falling out of your wife's vagina and stepping out her dreams (Louis CK quote), etc.

One thing you must not ignore is the tales of meconium. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's baby's first poo. And second poo. And god help you if there's a third as it's the most unholy thing to every come out of a living creature (except for another screaming, living creature). It is comprised off all the stuff baby ingests while in the womb, including hair and skin. Awesome.

Meconium is black. Meconium is sticky. While it doesn't smell it will peel 8 layers of your newborn's flesh from their bones as you try to clean it off them. Refer to wikipedia's entry for some delightful pictures.

It isn't actually that gross but it's one of the most bizarre and alien things about your baby. I wish I had video taped the first diaper change to provide step-by-step cleaning, but my digital camera only has so much memory and that shit took forever to clean.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Baby Faces

I videotaped some of the faces the young 'un makes. Best 2 minutes of your life. Don't fight it.


Our baby was born on Jan 1. My wife went through hell and high-water having a natural birth. Tried to do it all at home but there was a little "glitch" in the plans.

Here's the thing about glitches. Glitches are only cool when you're not already scared shitless; and even then it's a bit of a stretch to to say they're "cool". Tolerable, a big-ass nuisance, not life-threatening, these are all ok terms, "cool" definitely not.

For those of you sans baby or labour-smarts, labour is the most insane thing a man will never have to go through. NEVER will you feel more useless then when your wife/girlfriend/whatever is experiencing the most excruciating pain known to humans and there is absolutely nothing you can do. All you can say or do is support your wife. Do EVERYTHING she asks of you. Re-assure her that she's doing well. Get the fuck out of the way when she doesn't want you there. Do anything she says. That's it. You're her bitch. Deal with it.

Back to the glitch!

When contractions occur, particularly in the "pushing stage" (please refer to your texts for the stages of labour), the baby's heart rate drops. There is a range of "normal" that midwives and doctors like to see it stick to. If it deviates from that, all hell breaks loose.

When you're already feeling like a useless tit and don't think you're supporting your wife all that well and EMS workers come in to get her to the hospital quickly and you have no idea what's going on and you're trying to remain supportive, positive, and not shit your pants, nothing feels like a "glitch".

The short of it is that baby is fine. We got to the hospital and heart rate immediately went into the "normal" range, we laughed, chuckled, my wife told me "we're never doing this again", and now I've got a cute baby that does terrible things to diapers (more on this later).

3:30 am on the 31st early labour started.
9:49 on the 1st baby was born.