Amazingly, it has already been over ten weeks since the birth of Justine. Of course, to you, faithful reader, we just arrived home from the hospital last week. Well, obviously I’m running behind schedule on the blog. I could make up elaborate excuses (the Phoenix foundation sent me on a much needed vacation where I was unfortunately stalked by my archnemesis Murdoch who i defeated with only my wits, plus 2 rubber bands and a thumbtack. He ended up falling off a cliff to his presumable yet highly unlikely death…) or even truthful ones, but the reality of the situation is that summer is the busy season for my company and so I spent what little free time I did have making faces at my newborn (and doing shots of Jager after she went to bed).

That leaves us here, with us a couple of months in the future, and yet the blog trapped solidly in the past. Well, let me sum it the bulk of parenting in the recent weeks into a short, simple statement, oft repeated when folks ask me about fatherhood and my baby daughter.

She’s a sleeper.

I think generally the stereotype of first time parents is to picture them pacing back and forth in a sleepy daze as they spend hour after hour in the middle of the night attempting to somehow, some way coddle their freshly minted baby to sleep. Instead, this new addition to an otherwise happy couple seems intent on ruining every minute of rest between the sunset and sunrise. The parents muddle through, walking about during the daylight hours in a haze, shells of the vibrant young go-getters they once were, while their baby sleeps all day long and screams all night.

Yeah, that hasn’t been our experience so far. With few exceptions, Justine sleeps most nights for 6-7 hours at a stretch, waking once to feed and then usually going right back down to sleep. Her ability to sleep has already been severely tested, with the aforementioned marathon doze in the ER, as well as sleeping through a late night air horn attack launched by friends and coworkers jealous of her abilities. Kim can run the vacuum while she sleeps, and I’ve even held meetings of the Jet Engine Audiophile Club of Central New York during her nap time. She’s either an amazing sleeper or a closet narcoleptic.

Overall, fatherhood is somewhat of a different beast them I had imagined. So far there has been a lot less pipe smoking, cardigan wearing, and Leave it To Beaver style lesson delivering than I had been originally led to believe.  In reality my experiences so far as a parent actually parallels eerily with my experiences as a cat owner. Consider the following:

1). The aforementioned sleeping. I’m convinced that Justine and the cats have napping contests. While I have no direct evidence for this, if you stare intently at Dory’s scratching post, you can almost make out a rudimentary scoreboard. I believe the cats are winning – but they do have a genetic advantage.

2). Love for milk – Cats sure do love milk, but it pales in comparison to Justine. She CRAVES milk so much in fact it’s all that she will eat. We’ve tried giving her everything from high fructose syrup to xanthum gum, but all she wants is the milk. The cats, on the other hand, will eat floss if you’d let them.

3) Pooping – Our cats poop excessively. To their credit they (generally) do so in (or around) their boxes. Justine has no such compunction, instead letting loose whenever and wherever she feels the need, often in spectacular aural (and occasionally visual) fashion. In my experience, she’ll either be happily playing and then suddenly stare off into space, followed by the “thunder,” or otherwise be “actively working it out” if you know what I mean. Regardless, as with the cats, it’s up to me and Kim to collect and dispose of her droppings. This is as elegant as it sounds.

4). Hunger alerts – the cats do this in a generally adorable fashion, following you around, mewing, rubbing up against your leg, grabbing the can and dropping it on your face while you sleep, etc. Justine is less subtle. We can usually determine her hungry cry by a combination of her face pallor (beet red) and frequency of tongue quiver (approx 45-55 hz). She also will attempt to eat her hand (difficult without teeth) and/or spew her pacifier a good distance (indicating “that” is not what she wants).  Occasionally she also snorts like a pig and/or blows bubbles.  If the cats did this we’d probably have to “ol’ Yeller” them – Justine does it and we’re all smitten with the liquid cuteness sprewing out of her mouth.

5) Entertainment – Both the cats and Justine are enormously (though briefly) amused by dangling shiny and/or stringy objects in their faces. The key difference being that the baby smiles and laughs toothlessly at this mundane activity, while the cats regard this as a minor threat to their existence and swat/bite at said object and indeed the hand holding it.

So am I saying that owning a cat prepares you for the rigors of parenthood? No not really. Cats may appear to be dependent on you, but in actuality were you to become incapacitated in the house, they’d be able to take care of themselves, probably by eating you. Children on the other hand, are entirely dependent on you for all aspects of their early lives. Leaving them home with a few bags of breastmilk and a straw while you jet to the Adirondacks for the weekend, like you might with the cats, is Ill-advised and most likely criminal. And think of the mess when you got back. No, babies require ridiculously more responsibility than cats.  Rabbits, on the other hand…

So that’s the story so far, ten weeks into phase two of this adventure. I’d say that I’ve consumed far less booze than I thought I would, I’m less disturbed by the diapers than I thought I’d be, and I’m thoroughly amazed at how much you can love something you only recently met. I also suddenly find Elmo compelling.

Next up for us is our first major trip as as a family. We’re headed out west in the old station wagon to Wally World, followed by a trip to Europe, a cozy staycation home for the holidays, and finally a low budget trip to Vegas. Then I start my brief career as a talk show host…

It was a new and different location, so we left ourselves plenty of time, and rolled into the office at 7:45 for an 8 am apt. Not surprisingly, we were the only patients there for awhile, until another clearly pregnant younger woman strolled in and gave us a look as if to say ‘ha – you call THAT a bump?’. I briefly considered ‘taking it outside’ but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have taken her – ‘mother lion defending her cubs’ and what not. Regardless, in short order we were called into the back and followed the technician to the exam room.

Now, we had been told that this sonographer was ‘the best’, but since she happened to work in our doctor’s husband’s practice, I had my doubts. But she was tremendous – we were in there for 3 seconds and she had the goop on Kim’s stomach and was already pushing the wand around looking for Chi-Baba. And that’s when the troubles arose.

Nothing bad, of course. Didn’t mean to scare you. See, the issue that was immediately apparent to her (not to us – I felt like were watching a scrambled movie – you could kinda make out what was going on but it wasn’t particularly satisfying) was that our doctor had overestated the age of the baby. They had us close to 19 weeks, but the sonographer (after drawing dotted lines to measure – uh – ‘body parts’ or at least ‘amorphous fuzzy blobs’) estimated us at 17 weeks, 3 days. (which is a very specific estimate by the way). Consequently, she told us, she couldn’t make out enough that was going on in there, other than the cereal Kim had for breakfast (had no idea she swallowed fruit loops whole).

The end result is that we need to go back in a few weeks for another ultrasound, which is fine with us. Finally, after all the technical stuff, she went about trying to take some pictures for us, which i have posted below. We’re pretty sure now, unfortunately, that it’s not a kitty (much to the relief, I’m sure, of that male stray cat that hangs out around our house). And now we finally have some baby pictures we can put in our wallets and show people when they ask about the pregnancy (‘here’s it’s leg’, ‘that’s either a spine or there was a lizard under the exam table’,'that, apparently, is a very cute pose, we’re told’,etc.)

We have another appointment for a regular checkup in a few weeks, and then the ultrasound after that. I hope the kid doesn’t expect this kind of attention when it comes out…

Click on any image to view an enlarged version.  Print out each picture and play “Guess the Gender” with your family.  Or at least “Fuzzy Blob: Part of Baby or Part of Kim’s Guts?”

Baby spine or random lizard?

The Baby is’Vogueing’ – Hands in front of his face from a top down perspective.

Some picture of the baby – with a Roswell looking face that is apparently the baby’s stomach.

The ‘whole shabang’ – you can see the leg and spine.

The ‘leg extended’ I’m told.