Low Maintenance

Seven thousand birthday gifts. Her favorites? A night light and a lollipop.

Explanation: My little girl just turned two. She had a very happy birthday (which somehow has stretched across three parties) and based on the pictures, her gift volume exceeded her personal volume. Anyway, the big winners were a lollipop and a night light that changes colors. Mental note: Keep the budget lower next year.

Plush Taxonomy 101

The taxonomy of my daughter's toy is perplexing.

Explanation: For a baby shower, we were given a hanging plush insect*, which we have used on the handle of my daughter's carseat for quite some time. It's many colors and play options have proven to be quite wonderful on car trips, and we have gotten many months of use out of it.


The problem, however, arises when we attempt to speak about this insect. Some call it a butterfly. Some call it a firefly. Some call it a dragonfly. All taxonomy attempts on this insect have failed. Its unique coloring, five body sections, and oddly distributed wings make it a difficult critter to get a handle on. As a result, my poor little girl will most likely grow up thinking a dragonfly, a firefly, and a butterfly are all the same insect. Can you help?

*Lamaze, the manufacturer of this insect, calls it "Freddy the Firefly," but I question their taxonomic abilities as well.

One Tooth, Two Teeth, Three Teeth...

We have a new tooth sighting!

Explanation: At four months, my daughter shocked us all by sprouting her two bottom teeth. At the first tooth sighting, we thought "So THAT'S why she hasn't been sleeping for the past week!" Well, after a few days of poor sleep, we spotted tooth #3! Looks like #4 isn't far behind, either. Oh, and I should mention how grateful I am this morning for infant Tylenol!

Where is Thumbkin?

Why is Thumbkin such a chicken?

Explanation: So, occasionally my wife sings the "Where is Thumbkin?" song for my daughter. As I haven't heard it in decades, I was naturally interested in how it goes. It turns out all of the fingers are wimps. Every time you find one, they just run away. What are we teaching our children about finger bravery? What are they to take from this? When the going gets tough, the ring finger gets running away? When push comes to shove, index finger runs away? When it's time to separate the men from the boys, middle finger... hehehe... middle finger. That always cracks me up.

Her Cup Runneth Over

Some say the cup is half full, others half empty. My daughter just wants to play with the cup.

Explanation: At six and a half months old, my daughter has plenty of toys - toys that play music and toys that do stuff when you press buttons. She has toys she can chew and toys she rattle. She has more than enough toys. So what is her new favorite thing in the world? A clear plastic cup. If the clear plastic cup happens to contain water, that's a bonus, but the cup itself is particularly exciting.

So, when somebody asks you if you're a cup half full or cup half empty type of person, just respond by saying "A cup! Oh boy!" That should send the right message.

On a related note, as she is trying really hard to move across the room, I was debating whether it would be cruel or helpful to put a plastic cup, a cell phone, and a pair of glasses (three of her most desired objects) on the floor a few feet away from her. I'm thinking it would be just the motivation she needs. Then again, as soon as she starts crawling, we have some serious baby-proofing to do. Maybe I'll just let her learn on her own.

Big Baby

Sixteen pounds, nine ounces!

Explanation: Yesterday at her 6 month checkup, my daughter weighed in at 16 pounds, 9 ounces. She is now, for the first time in her life, above the 50th percentile in weight. There are two important things to note about this:

1. We have sustained another human being for half a year and she's grown in the process! Spike would be so proud, if only he were around to see it.

2. I have no idea what the official age is where I can no longer look at my daughter, smile and exclaim "You're huuuuuuge!" I'm guessing she'll let me know when we get there, though.

Tea Time

"It's time to share a cup of tea..."

Explanation: My daughter hit the six month mark last weekend, which officially put her in the age range for a child's tea set she received as a gift when she was born. So, being good parents, we took out the tea pot, cups, and plate of plastic snacks and let her play with it. Being a good six-month-old, she found the button on the teapot that plays the same two songs over and over and over again and presses it repeatedly. Now I can't go anywhere without the following lyrics running through my head:

It's time to share a cup of tea.
Some for you. Some for me.
Always share and try to say
Please and thank you.

Special Blog Bonus: You just can't make this stuff up.

Cookie Monster Friday!

C is for Cookie and Cookie is for me! Cookie Cookie Cookie starts with... ummm... just give me a moment, I know this one...

Explanation: Occasionally, especially on hot days, I like to work downstairs in my house where it's much cooler than my office. This has the added benefit of putting me around my daughter most of the day. Of course, on the negative side, this also puts me near my daughter's toys most of the day. Several of her toys play songs repeatedly, much to her delight, but not so much to mine. This morning she played a while with the Sesame Street toy, so I heard quite a bit of the Cookie Monster.

Of course, I recall a recent nice day when one of the neighbor children was playing (and probably banished) outside with a whistle. I guess my house isn't all that bad.

WHO DOES NUMBER TWO WORK FOR?

In an ironic twist of fate, my daughter has just now started to wear number 2 diapers.

Explanation: My little girl has moved up to the world of number 2 diapers. I think this is just hysterical, as the newborn and number 1 diapers certainly saw their fair share of "number twos." And yes, I'm joking about poop again.

Interesting Note: The number 2 diapers also come with Grover diapers. May [the diety of your choice] have mercy on his soul.

Special Blog Bonus: And with no further ado, I present the obligatory Austin Powers clip:

Price Check on Aisle 4

Does anyone know the SKU for a baby?

Explanation: It's Monday. I waited until noon so you all had a chance to wake up. Now I present you with an engineering problem.

My daughter turned three months old this weekend. Since she has no scheduled doctor's appointment this month, we do not know her weight. My home scale is digital, and only reports weights to a precision of 0.5 pounds. Furthermore, the scale isn't consistent enough to even guess her weight. I need another way to measure her weight.

My first (and perhaps easiest) idea is to take her to Wegman's and put her on a produce scale. As I do not know her SKU number, I would not be able to print a label for her. That would be tough to explain at checkout time.

After that, I'm at a loss. Without buying a new scale, how do I figure out her weight? Remember, I don't have the time to construct a giant balance. Any suggestions?

Mixed Emotions

I'm happy! No, wait, I'm sad. Wait - happy again. PUSH! PUSH! Nope, definitely miserable. Miserably happy. No, I think I'm angry. Or happy. I can't decide.

Explanation: My daughter can now smile. It's way cool and it makes Sarah and me quite happy when she smiles at us. The smiles, however, don't always come at appropriate times. Sometimes she's clearly in a good mood. Sometimes she's in the middle of doing some "work" (if you know what I mean). Sometimes they just come out of nowhere.

Yesterday morning was a prime example. Kari had just woken up, so she had a full agenda ahead of her: being happy to be alive, loving her parents, loudly requesting a meal, and waging war on some poor Sesame Street character. Unfortunately, her ability to prioritize isn't quite there yet, so she just took care of everything at once. This led to two minutes of smiles interspersed with screaming, crying, "pushing," and angry faces.

We, of course, reacted to this like any concerned parents would. We laughed hysterically at her.

A Monday Contest

Guess my daughter's current weight! Winner wins an all-expense paid vacation to the 3am feeding of your choice!

Explanation: Yes, it's a Monday contest on the blog! My daughter has her two-month checkup this afternoon, where she will be weighed for the first time in a month. If you can guess the closest to her current weight, you will win an all-expense paid vacation to the 3am feeding of your choice! That's right - you can experience the joy and splendor of waking up at three o'clock in the morning to the sound of a crying baby. Change your very own diaper! Try for over an hour to get the little girl back to sleep, knowing that the minute you put her down in the crib, she'll just wake up again! This fabulous prize can be yours if... the weight is right!

My Little Sleeper

She did it! Kari slept through the night!

Explanation: Only seven weeks into her life and my little girl slept all the way through the night last night! After never having gone more than 6 hours between feedings (and even that was rare) she slept for ten straight hours and WOKE UP PLEASANTLY! It's a miracle! I'm so well-rested I can't even explain it to you. What a wonderful glorious day this is! Wait, let me write this date down so I can remember it and commemmorate the occasion: "April 1, 2009."

April Fools! OK, so maybe she only slept for 3 hours at a time last night. The important thing is, I'm awake enough to be aware of what day it is. That's something!

Hooray for Spit-Up!

It's official. Every single piece of clothing that I own now has spit-up on it.

Source: Last night it finally happened. I was holding my daughter and realized that the shirt I was wearing was the last article of clothing I own that hadn't been spit-up on. (The warm-up pants I was wearing had fallen from those ranks only a few hours beforehand.)

Congratulations to that T-shirt. For about 3 hours it stood head and shoulders above the rest of my clothing as the only spit-up free garment I owned. It was a glorious reign, which came screeching to a halt about 2 minutes later as a result of a rather impressive little burp. I think I'll just wear a poncho from now on.

On a side note, I'd just like to mention that people keep telling me this the "potted plant" stage of a child's life. Now that I think about it, most potted plants will take all the water you give them, only to leak any they don't need.

Hepatitis B: One Down, Two to Go

It's really not fair when the needle is as long as your leg is thick.

Explanation: Yesterday my daughter had her one-month checkup at the doctor's office. The most notable part of this whole experience was the Hepatitis B booster my poor little girl had to get. This is the first time we've seen her get a shot. For somebody with only one word, she certainly made it clear that she did not like getting stuck with the needle. As an interested observer, it was amazing to see her reaction to it. It is now very clear that she's never been in serious physical pain - her shreik when she got the shot was unlike anything I've heard from her before.

Of course, as a dad I never want to hear that sound again, and I'm still upset that I had to hear it once. In fact, I think I'll put my "interested observer" hat* back on.

*And yes, if you felt so inclined you could certainly liken an "interested observer" hat on a dad to a party hat on a Mouse DeathBot.

One Word

Yes, I believe there's an objection from the young woman in the pink?

Explanation: I keep joking to people that my daughter has only one word right now and you don't want to hear it. The word sounds something like this:

AAAA

As you can see, she's clearly my daughter because she chose to start at the very beginning of the alphabet. I'm very proud of her for this, but I do constantly encourage her to explore the other vowel sounds. Anyway, the word means "I object!" She is like a disgruntled lawyer in this way, I think.

Furthermore, she can vary the length of her word to change the meaning. Here are a few examples:

AAAA... AAAA... AAAA...
"Excuse me? Yeah, you over there - I no longer wish to sleep in this cold flat contraption you call a bassinet. Come forth and present yourself as my new sleeping surface."

AAAA... AAAAAAAAA... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
"I object! No, I strenuously object! I'm out of order??? This whole freakin' system is out of order!"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
"Daddy, it's midnight, you have changed me, shushed me, swaddled me, burped me, rocked me, given me a pacifier, and broken down crying for my own amusement, but the issue I currently face is hunger, which can only be resolved by my sleep-deprived mother, who fed me a mere hour ago and happens to have just fallen asleep, leaving you in charge."

As you can see, my daughter is quite gifted.

I'm Baaaaack

So, which sounds better? "Air poopies" or "tushie burps?"

Before we go on, we at Jeremy's Status Message would like to apologize for the interruption in service over the past two weeks. As a thanks to you, our loyal readers, we will no longer be posting about pregnancy. Nine months is long enough! This blog will now return to the standards of high taste to which you have become accustomed.

Explanation: So, in case you haven't figured it out yet, I am now a dad. I have a beautiful baby girl and took the last two weeks or so to spend time with my family. Life is good.

As a new dad, however, it's important that I have a cute way of saying that my daughter has expelled noxious gasses from her hindquarters. It cuts some of the tension in the room when you refer to those occurrences as air poopies or tushie burps. Maybe I should just call them toots. Farts? Breaking wind? Cutting the cheese? Letting one rip? Flatulence? Pooting? Tummy bubbles? Busting a fluffy? Barking spiders? Stepping on a frog? Floating an air biscuit? Tuning a tuba? I have no idea. I need suggestions.

Help!

Laboring Over Grammar

We're. They'll. I'd. O'clock. Should've. Doesn't. He's. You're. Ma'am. 'Twas. Ne'er-do-well...

Explanation: I'm practicing for contractions. According to the childbirth video we saw, the contractions start out small and slowly build up over the course of labor. In the beginning, the contractions are spaced out and you barely notice them:

'Tis but a minor discomfort. The last one 'twas five minutes ago. Please, there's no need to for the formality, you don't have to call me "ma'am."

Then they build up for the second stage of labor:

It's quite painful! I've had 'em since 4 o'clock! I'd like to see what you'd do in my place - you wouldn't last a minute. I should've gotten an epidural!

At the final stage of labor, they are the most intense and almost continuous:

M'ke th' p'n st'p! Why'd y'u d' th's t' m'??? I n'd m'rph'ne!

This concludes today's lesson on grammar and childbirth. Stay tuned tomorrow as we discuss why women in labor just don't appreciate puns.

We Have a Name!

It's official! We finally have a name!

Explanation: After nine months of book reading, deep ponderance, strenuous debate, hemming and hawing, intense cogitation, focused meditation, spirited conversation, and my personal favorite "Hm" sound which means "There's no way on God's green earth that we're going to choose that name," we have finally decided on a name! That's right! Our little girl isn't due to enter this world for another two weeks our hardest decision as expectant parents is over with. All of this stress is finally over - Sarah can now just kick back and enjoy the rest of her pregnancy with all of her problems washed away. And now for the formal announcement:

I am going to go by "Dad".

Thank you for all of your support in helping us make this difficult decision.

Little Feet -> Little Socks

Man, those are some little socks.

Explanation: In more preparation for the arrival of our newest family member, Sarah washed a load of hand-me-down baby clothes. If I put five pairs of my blue jeans through the wash, they A) completely fill the washer, B) cause it to shake violently during any agitation cycles, and C) take approximately 2 hours to dry in the dryer. So, I wash four pairs of my jeans at a time. That's all. By contrast, the load of baby clothes consisted of approximately 73 outfits, complete with approximately 146 little tiny socks.

On the bright side, my wash loads are much easier to fold and put away.

In related news, I defeated the car seat this weekend, installing the base in the back of my car just in case. Go me!