Dear Blog-o-sphere,
I've had a time of major discoveries!
First, it appears that on the ends of the things that are attached to me near my head are small, multi-pronged apparatuses. There I was, minding my own business, doing what I do best, then, BAM! My eyes dart to those... things. I ask myself, "What is this magical thing in my throne with me? It does seems to flail around a lot." I stared at it for some time trying to deduce what it's for. Then (shock and horror!), a second one appeared. Still not quite sure what that are for, but I am working on solving that mystery.
Second, the hairy man and the nice lady took me to see the man in the green onesie again. This time he had another objective in mind. I needed to have my tongue clipped. I believe that his ultimate goal on this trip was to silence my wails for food or someone to wipe up my doodie. They said that I had to have my tongue clipped since it had grown incorrectly, but I debate this. I feel my tongue worked fine before. It flopped about and made a wonderful scream when I wanted it to. "But, it might cause you to have a speech impediment when you get older," they said. Well, I would have none of it! I decided to rebel and not get this elective surgery! That's a slippery slope. First, it's tongue clipping, then tummy tuck, then breast implants, then Rod Stewart-ictomies.
It seems my rebellion was short lived, however. I got my tongue clipped and feel no different than I did before. Soon, I'll have no choice but to belt out "Hot Legs" at the top of my wonderful singing voice.
Then, they took me to this place, woke me up from a peaceful slumber, and some lady started jabbing needles into me! They said it was my "shots" and that I "needed them". I think mommy needed them more than I did, because she almost cried when I got them. I screamed a bit because they did hurt, but not as bad as mommy made it seem.
Next, there is this amazing thing that has happened over the course of my time here. Where once the ground outside of my new humble abode (I liked the decor of my old one better, by the way. Nice shag carpet and everything) was lush and verdant, now it's changed to this powdery white substance that is very cold and a little wet. Of course, I don't get to see much of this stuff up close, since the nice lady and the hairy guy cover me up anytime we go out. But, if I scream enough, they carry me to the thing they call "windows" and let me look at it. It's bright and shiny and sparkles (daddy says, like a vampire. I don't know what he means.) Well, now it's everywhere daddy shovels it away from the house, but it keeps coming back. Mommy is excited about it because she "doesn't have to go back to that hellhole" (again, no idea what that means).
Finally, I've noticed a curious phenomenon. It seems that almost every time I go to sleep these days, I wake up in a different place. First, sleep, then, in the car.
Sleep, in some sort of bright building with things to buy.
Sleep, then in a metal tube that the hairy guy tells me is "30,000 feet in the air". Sometimes, I think he's insane. So, I yelled really loud to let him and everyone else in the tube know this. He was not amused and passed me to the nice lady.
Sleep, somewhere they say is Houston. I got to see Grandma and Grandpa West again and that was nice. I finally got to meet my Uncle Jay and Aunt Ashley. Uncle Jay is just as hairy as daddy is! I also got to meet my great grandpa. He seems like a nice guy. Although he did call me "Britches" a lot. I think it's because I was wearing my good pants at the time. I tried to explain that my name is Jack, but he had none of it.
Sleep, back in the metal tube. Daddy said that we were going back home, but one look out the window told me he was lying again. After all, it was just the sky and that wasn't moving. So, this time I not only yelled to tell him that he was insane, I pooped too. That'll show him! Well, he took me into this small room and started to change me. Then, the room started rocking back and forth, making daddy stumble a bit. Must have been some sort of amusement ride...
Sleep, back home.
Sleep, back in a metal tube. More very loud explaining that daddy is insane. More angry looks from everyone else.
Sleep, somewhere called Washington, D.C. It seems that this is the headquarters of a lot of high paid architects and builders. Everything there is ornate or under construction. Or both. There was this big guy sitting on a chair in a building, a big building with lots of steps and, as daddy put it, "filled with fat cats and pork". I told him that if they got rid of the pork in there, that the fat cats would leave. Or lose some weight. He smiled and kissed my forehead. I also spent some time with my Aunt Sara, Uncle Nick, and cousin Ella. I don't know what it is about the ladies, but they love me. Even the girls at my babysitter's think that I'm the bees knees. I have to tell them to back off sometimes and let the playa play.
Sleep, metal tube. Loud explaining of how hungry I am. Daddy looks for the nearest exit to jump out of.
It seems all of this time and space warping while I sleep is caused by a magical entity called "Jesus" and a time called "Christmas". From what I have gathered, he was born around this time a long time ago along with his buddies Santa Claus and Rudolph (he's a red-nosed reindeer it seems.) Mostly, people celebrate his birth by buying gifts for each other, crippling themselves by falling off of ladders while hanging lights that have nothing to do with Jesus, crippling themselves with debt from the lights and gifts, and eating and drinking to excess (possibly in honor of the spartan lifestyle that Jesus led.)
Daddy made sure that I finished this blog before I could go to bed. I'm very sleepy now. I'll try to blog more often, but I've been very busy keeping daddy up all night crying for food while letting mommy sleep. What can I say? I'm a giver. It's a Christmas present for her.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A Baby's Lament
Dear Blog,
Once again I find myself in need of venting my frustration. The hairy one and the nice lady have switched my bi-hourly regiment of liquid diet from the divine ambrosia that I was receiving to some sort of poor substitute. It smells a little like garbage juice, you know, the puddle of yuck at the bottom of the trash can when you take it out to the curb and as you put it down it tips over and spills all on your newly laundered pants right before you have to leave for work. I'm not sure what any of that means, but I heard "daddy" yelling about it one day.
Clearly, I didn't like this new stuff, but I thought I would humor my parents (they try so hard to please me, after all). After only a few attempts to grit my gums and suffer through it, I gave up. It tasted foul and, thus, I was forced to do the thing that any reasonable person would do: I started to regurgitate it in a most spectacular manner, all over the two of them, every time they tried to feed it to me, and fuss with out end.
Now, they have switched me to yet another substitute and this one is not so bad. I might still fling it back at them via my mouth just to let them know who is boss and keep them on their toes, but for the most part, I'll keep eating it.
They tricked me last night. One minute, I was sleeping, nice and cozy, on the nice lady's chest. The next: I'm in an unfamiliar place in a dark room, on a nice, comfy cushion. But, (horror of horrors!) I was alone!!! This would not stand. So, after a few seconds of wailing at the top of my lungs, the hairy one comes in and tries to placate me with Mortimer.
Glad you asked. Mortimer is my constant companion. I'm not sure what the technical term for it is (thus the name Mortimer), but it's this device that's simulates my feeding apparatus, but nothing comes out. In a way, it's something that gives me the illusion of being fed without being fed! Brilliant! Now I can "eat" without getting milk hips!
As I was saying, the quasi-ape tried to make me happy, but failed utterly. Finally, the nice lady came in and put me back in my throne where I belong. I go everywhere in my throne, so it only makes sense for me to sleep there.
I've also taken to a fun new game I have devised. When one of my parents is alone with me, and I know another of them is about to arrive, I unleash a cacophony of screams and wails the likes of which have not been heard in a fortnight. Then, when the other parent arrives in the room, I quickly silence myself. The effect of which is that the 2nd parent now thinks the 1st parent is insane for complaining about my crying. It's a real hoot!
Well, duty calls! My diaper has become full and I need for the nice lady to change me. Seriously. It's like Fallujah down there.
Until the future, dear blog.
Once again I find myself in need of venting my frustration. The hairy one and the nice lady have switched my bi-hourly regiment of liquid diet from the divine ambrosia that I was receiving to some sort of poor substitute. It smells a little like garbage juice, you know, the puddle of yuck at the bottom of the trash can when you take it out to the curb and as you put it down it tips over and spills all on your newly laundered pants right before you have to leave for work. I'm not sure what any of that means, but I heard "daddy" yelling about it one day.
Clearly, I didn't like this new stuff, but I thought I would humor my parents (they try so hard to please me, after all). After only a few attempts to grit my gums and suffer through it, I gave up. It tasted foul and, thus, I was forced to do the thing that any reasonable person would do: I started to regurgitate it in a most spectacular manner, all over the two of them, every time they tried to feed it to me, and fuss with out end.
Now, they have switched me to yet another substitute and this one is not so bad. I might still fling it back at them via my mouth just to let them know who is boss and keep them on their toes, but for the most part, I'll keep eating it.
They tricked me last night. One minute, I was sleeping, nice and cozy, on the nice lady's chest. The next: I'm in an unfamiliar place in a dark room, on a nice, comfy cushion. But, (horror of horrors!) I was alone!!! This would not stand. So, after a few seconds of wailing at the top of my lungs, the hairy one comes in and tries to placate me with Mortimer.
Glad you asked. Mortimer is my constant companion. I'm not sure what the technical term for it is (thus the name Mortimer), but it's this device that's simulates my feeding apparatus, but nothing comes out. In a way, it's something that gives me the illusion of being fed without being fed! Brilliant! Now I can "eat" without getting milk hips!
As I was saying, the quasi-ape tried to make me happy, but failed utterly. Finally, the nice lady came in and put me back in my throne where I belong. I go everywhere in my throne, so it only makes sense for me to sleep there.
I've also taken to a fun new game I have devised. When one of my parents is alone with me, and I know another of them is about to arrive, I unleash a cacophony of screams and wails the likes of which have not been heard in a fortnight. Then, when the other parent arrives in the room, I quickly silence myself. The effect of which is that the 2nd parent now thinks the 1st parent is insane for complaining about my crying. It's a real hoot!
Well, duty calls! My diaper has become full and I need for the nice lady to change me. Seriously. It's like Fallujah down there.
Until the future, dear blog.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
A Moment Of Your Time
Dearest Blog Readers,
It is with a heavy sense of humility that I, Dr. Jonathan M West, esq., becomes the newest member of this quaintly titled "Baby Blog". For several weeks now, I have been endeavoring to become the best baby that I can be. Pursuant to this, I have taken up the mantle of "Blog Writer" in addition to my other titles: "PhD", "Professor of Baby Studies, Harvard", and "Poop Factory". Therefore, in between my daily rituals of bowel evacuation, feedings, sleeping when my parents are awake, waking when my parents are sleeping, and transcendental meditation, I will be offering my commentary on the life of a modern infant.
I know that this electronic forum has devolved into a wasteland of mediocrity in the hands of my father, colloquially known as "Daddy", but I'm here to see that this kind of irresponsible blog writing will come to end.
First order of business will be to recall the events of my birth.
I was brought into this world on September 28, 2009 at 12:09pm after being ripped from my mother's womb by a gregarious man in what I now believe was a blue jumper. Prior to that time, I occupied myself with rousing games of tic-tac-toe, preparing my dissertation on the effects of external stimulus on the fetal mind and drawing pictures of horsies on the placenta. I was safe. I was warm. I was happy. Then, without warning, I am taken from my lovely home into a cold and bright and empty area. I see this person with what appeared to be a dead badger on his face, claiming to be my "daddy", and a drugged woman on a slab that "daddy" claimed was my "mommy". Needless to say, I began to scream bloody murder. I was then whisked away and cleaned and prodded, all the while I was attempting to tell the Onesie-clad people that there had been some sort of mistake and would they please stop poking that or trying to put that thing in my rectum. After what seemed like an eternity, my torturers clothed me and sent me into a room with two people claiming to be my "grandma and grandpa". Finally, the sort of people who would be able to take care of my fragile form! But, alas, this brief comfort was also snatched from me as I was returned to the hairy man and the near comatose woman.
The day grows long and the siren call of my liquid diet is nigh. I am on a liquid diet in order to watch my weigh. You can never start too early.
I say adieu, fair readers. I shall continue my story anon.
It is with a heavy sense of humility that I, Dr. Jonathan M West, esq., becomes the newest member of this quaintly titled "Baby Blog". For several weeks now, I have been endeavoring to become the best baby that I can be. Pursuant to this, I have taken up the mantle of "Blog Writer" in addition to my other titles: "PhD", "Professor of Baby Studies, Harvard", and "Poop Factory". Therefore, in between my daily rituals of bowel evacuation, feedings, sleeping when my parents are awake, waking when my parents are sleeping, and transcendental meditation, I will be offering my commentary on the life of a modern infant.
I know that this electronic forum has devolved into a wasteland of mediocrity in the hands of my father, colloquially known as "Daddy", but I'm here to see that this kind of irresponsible blog writing will come to end.
First order of business will be to recall the events of my birth.
I was brought into this world on September 28, 2009 at 12:09pm after being ripped from my mother's womb by a gregarious man in what I now believe was a blue jumper. Prior to that time, I occupied myself with rousing games of tic-tac-toe, preparing my dissertation on the effects of external stimulus on the fetal mind and drawing pictures of horsies on the placenta. I was safe. I was warm. I was happy. Then, without warning, I am taken from my lovely home into a cold and bright and empty area. I see this person with what appeared to be a dead badger on his face, claiming to be my "daddy", and a drugged woman on a slab that "daddy" claimed was my "mommy". Needless to say, I began to scream bloody murder. I was then whisked away and cleaned and prodded, all the while I was attempting to tell the Onesie-clad people that there had been some sort of mistake and would they please stop poking that or trying to put that thing in my rectum. After what seemed like an eternity, my torturers clothed me and sent me into a room with two people claiming to be my "grandma and grandpa". Finally, the sort of people who would be able to take care of my fragile form! But, alas, this brief comfort was also snatched from me as I was returned to the hairy man and the near comatose woman.
The day grows long and the siren call of my liquid diet is nigh. I am on a liquid diet in order to watch my weigh. You can never start too early.
I say adieu, fair readers. I shall continue my story anon.
Been A Long Time...
Yep. It's been a while. A month, really. Sorry about all the waiting and yearning for bloggy goodness, but apparently raising a baby eats up quite a bit of your time. Who knew?
In between the diaper changes and t-shirt changes and cute photo uploads (available on Facebook and shipping for a nominal fee), I do have work and school to take care of. So, it's a busy time for your humble blog writer.
Also, no one told me that babies require this sort of attention all the time, not just the first week or so! It's madness!!
So, to fill in the gaps between the times that I get off my fat, lazy, white blog writing butt and actually write a blog, I would like to welcome our newest contributor to the blog. He comes highly recommended and I hear he has quite a lot to say. In addition, he'll be able to provide amazing insight to the events that occur around Chez West as Carly and I stumble blindly around parenthood.
So, the next blog will be written by none other than... THE BABY!
In between the diaper changes and t-shirt changes and cute photo uploads (available on Facebook and shipping for a nominal fee), I do have work and school to take care of. So, it's a busy time for your humble blog writer.
Also, no one told me that babies require this sort of attention all the time, not just the first week or so! It's madness!!
So, to fill in the gaps between the times that I get off my fat, lazy, white blog writing butt and actually write a blog, I would like to welcome our newest contributor to the blog. He comes highly recommended and I hear he has quite a lot to say. In addition, he'll be able to provide amazing insight to the events that occur around Chez West as Carly and I stumble blindly around parenthood.
So, the next blog will be written by none other than... THE BABY!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
We've got a baby!!!!
The big day has arrived (a bit sooner than we thought)! More details will be coming in another blog. But Jack is here and healthy. Carly is recovering nicely, and I'm loving all the snuggle time I get! Pictures have been posted on my Facebook page!
Friday, September 25, 2009
NOBODY PANIC!
See, cause people panic when you say the word "preeclampsia," but it's completely not necessary. My blood pressure is elevated and I can't think of a delicate way to say "the protein in my urine is slightly elevated," but it's not bad enough to do anything other than cut the sodium out of my diet, watch my blood pressure, and go on modified bed rest. I'm still going to work, but I have to sit while I teach, and I have to come directly home from work and not go anywhere other than the bathroom. I go back to the doctor on Wednesday (assuming I don't go into labor before then), so I should have more to report then.
An actual baby blog. Who knew?
I bet you are all wondering why I've called you here today.
It's come to my attention that some members of this blogging community have expressed disdain for the lack of baby related topics on this baby named blog. Normally, this kind of insurrection would be dealt with on a personal level and would not reach this blog. However, I must reluctantly concur that I have been rather lean on the baby front. As a result, I have graciously decided to forgo the usual beatings and summary executions of those expressing dissent, and choose instead to give you all the gift of an all baby blog.
I am a benevolent dictator.
Thus, I present to you, my subjects....
JON'S "ALL BABY NEWS" BLOG
1. Carly is pregnant.
I know, big shock! Take your time to recover. She's started dropping now and even had a real weak contraction or two. (For more information on that front, please direct your e-mail barrage to her). The last time she went to the doctor(week 37 ), the baby measured 40 weeks. We're thinking that the boy will be huge when he arrives. If this changes your guess on the baby weight or time, please keep post it in the comments section. She has been going through the milk at a rate upwards of one gallon per 24 hours. I'm having a very hard time keeping up with the buying of it. It helps her now rampant heartburn. Any help on that front would be appreciated. (I have suggested having the baby, but that didn't go over so well...) The upshot of this is that Jack will have bones of steel. I'm hoping for Wolverine-like claws too.
2. The nursery is looking fantastic.
HUGE thanks to Aunt Sara and Grandma Connie for busting your fannies/wrists to get that done. I think it kept us from going too insane and taking it out on each other. I know I said that I might post pictures, but thanks to my @#$%ty work schedule and homework situation, I haven't had any time to take let alone upload pictures. But, this weekend is (mostly) open, so there's a flicker of hope. (Take that at face value. Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment. -ed)
3. Did you know aspirin was once a brand name drug?
NO!!! BAD JON!!! MORE BABY TALK!!!!
3. I mean, we went to a baby class last weekend.
We signed up for this class since it had an infant CPR lesson. Going into it, I thought, "Wonderful, they'll teach me about swaddling, diapering, feeding, how to handle the birth, and all the things that I would need to know. A veritable user's guide to parenting! How quaint!"
Not so much.
We walk into the room about 15 minutes early, and on the screen a video is playing. The instructor is getting things set up and apparently needed to rewind the video. Of a birth. Take a moment and image our horror of walking in to a 9AM class and seeing a baby being un-born. It was... upsetting... But, it did make watching it properly much more bearable.
Other things we learned from this class:
A. Epidurals are great, you should get one (our hospital doesn't offer them, lucky us).
B. I like Ocean Spray Cran-Grape juice. They offered juice refreshment.
C. Epidurals are the bees's knees, you really need to get one.
D. Breastfeeding is complicated.
E. Epidurals are God's gift to all of humanity. Get one now. Right now.
F. Ummm....
G. EPIDURAL!!! NOW!!! GO!!!
H. Don't shake a baby. Shaking your moneymaker still ok.
I. Epidurals are the equivalent of liquid God.
J. Feeling the baby move is the best thing about pregnancy.
Further on point J., every woman in this class said that was the best part of it.
Carly disagrees. Jack hasn't really stopped moving since we first felt him. While it is cool to see and feel the baby, what I think is better is watching the ultrasound every month and seeing my baby grow. That's the really amazing part. Oh, that and the fact that he's really healthy and going to have Wolverine claws. Awesome.
It's come to my attention that some members of this blogging community have expressed disdain for the lack of baby related topics on this baby named blog. Normally, this kind of insurrection would be dealt with on a personal level and would not reach this blog. However, I must reluctantly concur that I have been rather lean on the baby front. As a result, I have graciously decided to forgo the usual beatings and summary executions of those expressing dissent, and choose instead to give you all the gift of an all baby blog.
I am a benevolent dictator.
Thus, I present to you, my subjects....
JON'S "ALL BABY NEWS" BLOG
1. Carly is pregnant.
I know, big shock! Take your time to recover. She's started dropping now and even had a real weak contraction or two. (For more information on that front, please direct your e-mail barrage to her). The last time she went to the doctor(week 37 ), the baby measured 40 weeks. We're thinking that the boy will be huge when he arrives. If this changes your guess on the baby weight or time, please keep post it in the comments section. She has been going through the milk at a rate upwards of one gallon per 24 hours. I'm having a very hard time keeping up with the buying of it. It helps her now rampant heartburn. Any help on that front would be appreciated. (I have suggested having the baby, but that didn't go over so well...) The upshot of this is that Jack will have bones of steel. I'm hoping for Wolverine-like claws too.
2. The nursery is looking fantastic.
HUGE thanks to Aunt Sara and Grandma Connie for busting your fannies/wrists to get that done. I think it kept us from going too insane and taking it out on each other. I know I said that I might post pictures, but thanks to my @#$%ty work schedule and homework situation, I haven't had any time to take let alone upload pictures. But, this weekend is (mostly) open, so there's a flicker of hope. (Take that at face value. Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment. -ed)
3. Did you know aspirin was once a brand name drug?
NO!!! BAD JON!!! MORE BABY TALK!!!!
3. I mean, we went to a baby class last weekend.
We signed up for this class since it had an infant CPR lesson. Going into it, I thought, "Wonderful, they'll teach me about swaddling, diapering, feeding, how to handle the birth, and all the things that I would need to know. A veritable user's guide to parenting! How quaint!"
Not so much.
We walk into the room about 15 minutes early, and on the screen a video is playing. The instructor is getting things set up and apparently needed to rewind the video. Of a birth. Take a moment and image our horror of walking in to a 9AM class and seeing a baby being un-born. It was... upsetting... But, it did make watching it properly much more bearable.
Other things we learned from this class:
A. Epidurals are great, you should get one (our hospital doesn't offer them, lucky us).
B. I like Ocean Spray Cran-Grape juice. They offered juice refreshment.
C. Epidurals are the bees's knees, you really need to get one.
D. Breastfeeding is complicated.
E. Epidurals are God's gift to all of humanity. Get one now. Right now.
F. Ummm....
G. EPIDURAL!!! NOW!!! GO!!!
H. Don't shake a baby. Shaking your moneymaker still ok.
I. Epidurals are the equivalent of liquid God.
J. Feeling the baby move is the best thing about pregnancy.
Further on point J., every woman in this class said that was the best part of it.
Carly disagrees. Jack hasn't really stopped moving since we first felt him. While it is cool to see and feel the baby, what I think is better is watching the ultrasound every month and seeing my baby grow. That's the really amazing part. Oh, that and the fact that he's really healthy and going to have Wolverine claws. Awesome.
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