What We’ve Learned: Week 11
Having a baby means doing things only when a window of opportunity opens up. You can plan all you want (and we do), but things change all the time.
Your friend calls up and says that they want to go for a walk at 3. “Sure,” you answer, until it’s 2:50, and Henry is fast asleep (his first nap in 5 hours) and there’s no way you’re waking him. So, there goes the walk. You plan on going to the grocery store as a family at 10 (generally a good time for Henry), but he’s screaming and crabby and generally unhappy, so you stay home with the baby and Kristen heads off alone.
So went Halloween. We were planning on heading out around 5:00, get a couple pieces of candy, let Henry look at the changing colors in the leaves, and then be back home by 5:30 or so to get him ready for bed.
But at 4:30, Henry was ready to go. So we went.
I put his “costume” on (not really a costume, but a bear-themed outfit), and out the door we went. I carried him up two blocks and down two blocks, stopping when people shrieked at his adorableness or when we were offered candy. By the time we were 100 feet from our front door, however, Henry was positively miserable, all shrieked out and indifferent about the four small Kit-Kats we were given.
So upstairs we went, took off the outfit, put him in his pajamas, and got him ready for bed.
And we didn’t take a single picture. Not a one.
This morning, I put him back in the outfit and had Kristen run and get the camera. I was going to post the photos, pretending the were from last Friday, you readers none the wiser, but the battery was dead and I had to go to work before it could be recharged.
Karma got me, it seems, and didn’t let me lie to you, the reading public. I’ll try again to get some this weekend, but this time, I have every intention of telling the truth.
Now with his first major holiday come and gone (I don’t count Labor Day or Columbus Day, because there is neither candy nor gifts given at either), what else have we learned this week.
We learned that daylight savings is, after Osama Bin Laden, the most evil thing on the planet. Why, you ask? Well, Henry, a big fan of the 6:30 bedtime, is now a big fan of the 5:30 bedtime, which means that I have to rush home even more quickly to see him before he falls asleep. On Monday, he was already out by the time I got home. On Tuesday, I was able to see him for nearly 45 minutes (I left early from work to vote). Yesterday, Kristen was able to keep him awake until 6:00, which meant that I came home just in time to change his diaper, burp him (more on that later), and put him to bed. We’ve been trying to extend his waking time as it is, stretch it from 6:30 to 7:00 to even 7:30 (mostly in hope that he’ll sleep all the way through to the next morning and not need the 4 AM snack), and stupd fall back has pushed us back to square one. Stupid Ben Franklin.
We learned that Henry’s favorite song is by Raffi. “Bananaphone”, a modern day classic, is good for a few reasons. One, it’s silly. Babies love silly. Two, it’s full of nonsensical words and onomatopoeia, both of what makes Henry’s limbs go a flailing. Three, it’s got a good beat and you can dance to it. Which is what we do. (I can’t believe I just said something nice about Raffi. Where do I hand in my hipster membership card?)
We learned that if, in the middle of playtime or smiles or feeding or sleeping, Henry starts to scream (and I mean scream), it’s because of gas. He’s had quite a bit lately, so much so that we have to burp him twice before putting him to sleep. Kristen thinks it’s just his stomach preparing for one poop a day (a dream come true); I, however, think he’s just a Cheli.
We learned that if I’m holding Henry, talking about hockey or the stock market or that cute puppy that I know one day we’ll own, and Kristen walks in the room, nothing else matters. Henry will turn to his mother, smile his big, toothless grin, and reach out for her. How Kristen is able to remain standing and not collapse on the ground in tears of joy, I have no idea.
And we learned that he’s learned how to hug. So when I pick up up and squeeze him tight, he’ll put his arms around my neck (well, as much around as he can), and lean his head on my shoulder. And that’s a good thing.
