Becoming A Dad

Wow. Today was an interesting day in many different respects.

First – Juliette and I have reached a point in our relationship where she actually seems to like me and want to spend time with me! Wow. This has only happened to me with members of the opposite sex *2* times now. The first one has resulted in the second.

It’s a nice feeling – I don’t feel so much the second-fiddle. I can hold my head high, confident that even though Juliette is screaming her head off, she’s doing it for me and not the benefit of passers-by, or to get Becoming-A-Mom to come and save her. No, it’s her saying that Becoming-A-Dad is her Dad, and she’s going to yell and scream at him to get him whipped into shape for when she wants a car.

The second thing is related to the first – Juliette is suddenly becoming very clingy. This afternoon we went out to visit my Aunt without Becoming-A-Mom who was working. So we packed up the OkieDog and the diaper bag and away we went. But once we got there and my Aunt started talking to Juliette, she acted scared. She stared at her for minutes on end without moving or blinking, as if to say “I’m watching you! You better not try anything!”

She even wouldn’t go walking with her OkieDog… which said a lot. Normally she’s so excited to play with it she almost falls over herself to grab it and start pushing it along. Nope. She stood in place and stared at my Aunt for several minutes and ignored any coaxing I gave her. She wouldn’t budge or take her eyes off my Aunt, so I picked her up and we walked with my Aunt for a while. Finally, after 20 minutes of this and with my Aunt sitting on a bench about 20′ away, Juliette finally started pushing her OkieDog. All the while looking back and making sure that my Aunt wasn’t up to anything.

It improved though. After 15 or 20 minutes of playing with the OkieDog she finally reached up and grabbed on to my Aunt’s hand, and the two of them walked together with the OkieDog. Finally she let go of the OkieDog and then with me on one side and my Aunt on the other, we did a few more circuits of the little park.

Thinking all was well there, we went inside to sit and visit for a while. But now Juliette wouldn’t allow me to hand her to my aunt or uncle. She refused to move from between my knees for the longest while. After another 15 or 20 minutes she finally gained enough courage to move about on the floor a bit, but away from the others and within an arm’s reach of my feet.

She’s never done this before, so we think it’s probably a side-effect of taking her to Daycare.

Every morning when I drop her off I either put her sitting on the floor and give her a toy before saying goodbye, or I hand her to the Daycare lady and say goodbye. I suspect that she’s afraid now that if I hand her to someone else I’m going to leave her there!

Ahhhh… the little joys of parenthood.

Okay, a little update: it’s not WaaWaaWaa, it’s AhWaaWaa.

I am AhWaaWaa.

Kinda makes me feel powerful, in a baby-talk sorta way.

It has finally happened. We have successfully translated some of Juliette’s babble-words into verifiable language!

When I give Juliette a bath, or when I come home in the evenings and Juliette hears me, she calls out “WaaWaaWaa!” or “Ah-WaaWaa!” Becoming-A-Mom noticed that it’s the same every time – when I walk away or Juliette’s looking for me, she’ll call out “WaaWaaWaa!” over and over until I come back. Then she stops and babbles other things.

So there you have it. I’m WaaWaaWaa!

The changes are coming thick and fast these days…

We bought her an OkieDog walker thingie which she absolutely adores – she got so excited when we first gave it to her that she would have screaming tantrums when it got stuck and she was unable to move it. She screamed when we picked her up and tried to help her with it too. But wow, was she ever a happy and excited kid pushing it up and down the hall over and over and over.

I know about the over and over and over and over part because I had the handle attachment and was helping keep her on track down the hall, then turning it around for her so she could go back the other way. I must have travelled 2 km by the end of it all!

Anyhow, the change I’m talking about is not a good change. She’s now taken to being binary in her moods: either happy and laughing (which is good) or screaming and crying and having tantrums (which is not so good). It can be as simple as not returning an item to her that she’s dropped or thrown; it can be picking her up and taking her away from something that she would rather be doing; it can be telling her not to touch something she knows she’s not supposed to touch; it can be changing her diaper.

It can be exhausting.

I hope this is just a phase she’s going through. And I hope she goes through it quickly.

Juliette AKA Peach has turned One Year Old today! Hurray!

During this year she’s gone from being The Tube (input milk at one end, collect poop and pee at the other) to developing into a little being with a distinct personality of her own. We don’t always like the personality she displays, but it’s been an amazing experience to watch her change.

Her latest exploits include:

• standing freely on her own, without having to hold on to anything
• picking things up while standing freely, bending over or doing 1/2 squats to grab items
• playing the little brat – her latest trick is to pick up a piece of food and offer it to us, then as we lean forward she pulls it back and puts it in her own mouth! Smiling mischievously the whole time. (Where did she learn that?)
• wanting to each what we eat – even after finishing off a big meal of her own, she has plenty of room to sample what’s on our plate. Everything from pieces of pork chop, rice, beans, bread, pizza, cakes, cookies, lettuce, cucumber and more. So far there is very little she does not like.
• piling up her toy blocks and putting the big lego pieces into stacks up to 3 high
• putting some of her shape blocks into the correct holes. So far she correctly does round and square, with triangles being successful about 10% of the time.

There’s a lot more things that I’m missing, but you get the picture. Besides, any more and I’ll turn into a gushing Dad. And we can’t have that.

Happy Birthday Juliette! I look forward to many many more.

As noted earlier, Becoming-A-Mom has returned to her shift-work this past week as her maternity leave has come to an end. What this means is that for 4 days in a row, Becoming-A-Dad and Juliette have been spending more Quality Time together.

This is also known by some as Screaming Time.

Becoming-A-Mom has been working night-shift the last 2 nights – 12 hours long, from 7:30 pm to 7:30 am. This means that she nurses Juliette and puts her to bed but is not here for the random-time-of-night feeding(s).

This is a bit of a problem as Becoming-A-Dad does not have functional breasts. At least not in the same functionality as Becoming-A-Mom’s.

First Night: Becoming-Weaned goes to sleep around 6:30 pm, giving Becoming-A-Dad some welcome time to fire up the computer and slaughter zombies. At 10:21 pm precisely  he decides it’s time to go to bed himself.  At 10:21 and 3 seconds he hear’s Juliette wake up and start crying for her night feed. He saves his game and bravely steels his nerves to deal with the other little Zombie.

He picks up his darling little girl (who’s conveniently screaming her head off so he knows where in the crib she is) and holds her and tries to shush and comfort her. This lasts 27.8 seconds until he realizes he’s going deaf in his left ear. He quickly moves to the bedside table and deftly inserts earplugs while still holding on to the now-struggling and screaming Juliette. He sits down in Becoming-A-Mom’s spot in the bed and cradles Juliette as she does. This only increases the volume of crying.

For the next 32 minutes and 17 seconds he holds Juliette and does some extremely ineffective actions aimed at calming her and ending the crying. At 32 minutes and 18 seconds Juliette takes a break from screaming and sobs quietly – sensing his opportunity Becoming-A-Dad gets out of bed and walks around the house. Juliette stops crying and looks around.

Becoming-A-Dad had craftily prepared a small bowl of Juliette’s favorite dessert in the fridge – yoghurt with home-made strawberry jam. He scooped this up and headed back to the bedroom.

He propped Juliette up in Mom’s spot, supported by pillows. She started to cry again, so he quickly dipped the spoon into the yoghurt and put a bit in her open mouth. She stopped mid-cry and opened her eyes. She opened her mouth wide and started to gulp down the yoghurt while looking at Becoming-A-Dad as if to say, “okay, the yoghurt’s good but what the hell is going on?”. She quietly continues to consume the offered yoghurt for the next 3 minutes and 41 seconds. When it’s all gone she rubs her eyes with the back of her hands.

Becoming-A-Dad, sensing victory, carefully picks her up and gives her a big hug while carrying her back to her crib. He places her in the crib and says “good-night!” before beating a hasty retreat to the hallway. He closes the door and tenses for the expected screams. They never arrive.

Frazzled, Becoming-A-Dad returns to killing zombies and other strange critters for the next 2 hours before tip-toeing into bed.

At 2:30 am the process repeats, except this time the crying jag only lasts 6 minutes and no additional zombie-killing is required.

Second Night: Becoming-Weaned sleeps until 2:39 am and wakes up crying as before. This time she only cries for 2 minutes and 19 seconds before calming down. Another bowl of yoghurt and then she’s back to her crib. She cries briefly for 52 seconds before falling asleep until morning.

I think I may have won this.

Without having to grow functional breasts.

Becoming-A-Mom’s maternity leave has come to an end (52 weeks paid maternity leave, courtesy the enlightened Government of Canada). She returned to work on Wednesday. She works four 12-hour shifts in a row (2 days, then 2 nights) before getting 5 days off. This means she gets up before Juliette does and leaves before we’re out of bed. So I’ve been pretending to be an organized and dutiful parent in Mom’s place.

This means that about 7 am my alarm rings and I ignore it. If Juliette is already awake, I’ve been ignoring her grunts, yelps and screams for a while. If she’s not awake yet, I lie in bed hoping to catch another 15 minutes of sleep but not getting it, as I’m too paranoid of sleeping too long.

After an appropriate time varying from 2 to 20 minutes [additional rest time = 1 / (volume X frequency of screaming)] I drag my sorry butt out of bed, collect Juliette and stumble out into the hall. This calms the little critter.

Imagine now a little programmer’s flow chart. I put her in either her high-chair (if she’s screaming her “I’m HUNGRY!” scream) or in her ExerSaucer (if she’s relatively calm). I either feed her or have my shower – depending on the previous step – then continue on to the step by-passed. Both paths of this flow chart must be followed.

It’s now a mad rush to get both myself dressed and ready for work as well as Juliette suited up to go to her Daycare. I have to make sure I don’t forget her lunch and snack, or I’ll be in the doghouse for years.

Sequencing is the most important part of this.

1. dress myself
2. grab an apple or something to eat (if I remember)
3. put on my shoes and jacket
4. get Juliette’s food from the fridge and put it in her bag
5. pick up Juliette from wherever she is – highchair, Exersaucer or playing on the floor
6. put Juliette’s jacket on her
7. put Juliette’s shoes on
8. grab Juliette’s bag (still carrying Juliette)
9. grab my office crap
10. take my housekeys out of my pocket
11. open the door and step outside
12. close and lock door
13. put keys back in pocket

If any of these things are done out of order, chaos ensues. If any of these steps are missed, more chaos and ridicule.

I drop Juliette off at her daycare and hope she doesn’t cry for too long after I leave.

For the next 8 hours I get to enjoy immersing myself in work. That was sarcasm if you missed it.

When my little Outlook reminder pops up I grab my coat and head to the car and pick up Juliette from daycare. She so far has been overjoyed to see me and gives me a great big hug and smile. I take her home and get ready to give her a bath and feed her dinner.

Once I’ve got my own poop sorted, I give Juliette a bath. For 15 minutes I get to zone out and play the goofy father as I splash her with water and make little games with her toys. After that it’s out and into her pyjamas.

Next it’s into the highchair and time for dinner. I feed her the main course (usually some sort of potatoes/veggie/meat puree) then about the same amount of dessert (usually a variation on applesauce with pablum mixed together). She sits in her chair and plays with a toy while I prepare my own dinner. And when I eat, she sits there and begs pieces of it from me. I wonder sometimes if having a dog would be the same.

The first day Juliette is hyper-active and wants to play. She bounces around the living room playing with all of her toys and demanding I play with her. Becoming-A-Mom arrives home around 8:45 pm, just as I’m getting ready to put Juliette into bed. Juliette at first seems happy, then turns her head and snubs Becoming-A-Mom for the first 2-3 minutes. It’s as if to say, “how DARE you leave me with him!”. But pretty soon she realizes that this means breast milk and she forgives her. A quick nursing session ends in a deep and peaceful sleep. Ahhhhhh…

The next day after dinner Juliette and I play with toys for a while, and once she’s tired (7 pm) I put her in her crib. She falls asleep without much fuss. I’m killing zombies on the computer when Becoming-A-Mom comes home.

You know, this isn’t so hard. But what’s coming is the dreaded Night Shift – and Becoming-A-Mom is not going to be here to nurse Juliette before putting her to bed or to nurse her in the middle of the night when she is used to having a quick nosh.

I furiously knit my brow and concentrate on growing boobs.

Chimps are renowned for their human-like intelligence and activities. They are said to be Man’s closest relative, but that’s not including Uncle T— who as a child looked so much like me that when I saw a 30 year old photograph of him dressed up in a Scout uniform, I was confused as I never was in Scouts. But that’s another story.

One thing that continually is referred to is the chimp’s ability to change his environment, modifying sticks, leaves, stones and other materials to expand his abilities. We call this tool use, and it’s one of the great indicators of intelligence.

I’m proud to say that Juliette has now entered the Chimp stage.

I have witnessed several occasions now where she has used a stick or long toy to scoop blocks and other toys that are just out of reach towards her so she can pick them up.

She’s even got the chimp howls and screams down to a Tee. I always wanted a monkey and now I’ve got my very own!

What I haven’t written about for the past week or so is that Juliette is now in daycare. She started March 1, with about a half-day with Becoming-A-Mom watching. Then Day 2 with Becoming-A-Mom leaving after an hour; the Day 3 with Becoming-A-Mom dropping her off and leaving here there the full day

Days 4 and 5 were Becoming-A-Dad dropping her off at 8 am with Becoming-A-Mom picking her up around 4 pm. Ditto for this second week, now in Day 7.

Tomorrow is the Big Day. Becoming-A-Mom returns to work after her maternity leave for the first set of shifts… and she’s been a little stressed by the coming change.

What this means is that tomorrow morning I drop Juliette off at 8 am, then pick her up at 5 pm. As Becoming-A-Mom works 12 hour shifts, I will be on my own until at least 8:30 pm when she will get home. A significant departure from the routine of the past year.

So… tomorrow I may not be so happy. Juliette is not yet weaned and will not take formula from a bottle. She is used be being nursed before going to sleep and at least once during the night. And let’s face it, I am not fully-equipped to be nursing the kid. Bottles and formula are in the future, as are hours of screaming and tantrums and general unhappiness. And that’s just me.

This is a prequel to the earlier Crisis? What Crisis? post.

What tipped me off to Becoming-A-Mom sleep-searching for Juliette was the couple of prior incidents of other sleep-paranoia actions that have occurred during the past 2 weeks.

At least three times I’ve been awoken to an arm being quickly and firmly thrown over me, pulling me in towards Becoming-A-Mom.

The first time this happened I thought I was having a nightmare – I wasn’t quite awake and not quite asleep either, but I found myself with an arm wrapped around me pulling my face into her breasts.

Normally this would be cause for celebration, except that Becoming-A-Mom was asleep too, and apparently intent on suffocating me rather than initiating a more pleasant activity.

I fought my way free, literally, as every time I removed her arms another would come slapping down in an frantic attempt to keep me from getting away. At some point I woke up completely and realized she was still sleeping, so I started saying loudly, “It’s okay! It’s okay! Relax!”

Eventually she woke up, turned over and went to sleep.

The second and third times were similar, except I was facing away from her and found myself being yanked back towards the middle of the bed. Again, she was asleep or nearly so.

It turns out that she’s having recurring dreams where Juliette is rolling away from her and about to fall out of bed, so she instinctively is reacting and desperately grabbing out to save her baby from this fate. This is a laudable reaction, except for two things:

1) It’s not Juliette falling out of bed, and

2) I’m not falling out of bed either. I’m turning over in my sleep.

I should be happy that she’s looking out for me, but to be quite honest I’d rather just turn over in my sleep and continue sleeping rather than having a quite nasty adrenaline rush from being clubbed and grabbed by her.

Now I feel bad – having written all that, Becoming-A-Mom has stopped by to check on what I’m up to. She’s just showed me the really nasty bruise and cut/bruise she has on her right leg and knee where she fell out of bed the other night… she must have stumbled into her bedside table as well to have gotten the cut. They’re bright pink/red centers surrounded by dark purple bruising, swollen and generally looking painful. And here I am making fun of her.