After God failed to rain on our parade, we headed west about an hour from Manlius to scenic Waterloo (one of several towns that claim to have invented Memorial Day), to celebrate the rest of the Fourth with my wife’s family.  Extended family, actually, with both sets of my in-laws, brother-in-law and family, stepmother-in-laws father, sister and family, as well as several area notables including an Amish couple and the mayor of the town.

(Despite my usual “truth meanderings” when it comes to these missives, this is actually an accurate account of who was there.  At one point, a neighbor must’ve called in a noise complaint, and a police car came driving by, slowed down, saw the mayor, then waved and drove on.  True story.)

We arrived a bit earlier than the throngs, so we leapt at the chance to head out onto one of the Finger Lakes in my father-in-laws’ boat.  This was to be Justine’s first ride in a boat, and we were of course concerned that the ride be smooth and her experience be one of happiness and tranquility, and with my wife’s father at the helm, this was assured. We strapped on her adorable little life jacket, covered her with infant sunscreen, and grabbed an infant water ski should she suddenly feel the need to “shred waves” and headed for the boat.

Naturally, Kim’s Dad decided not to go, and we were stuck with her brother instead, who, while a very competent sailor, seemed to have a little less regard for the health and mental welfare of our first-timer in the boat.  This was not immediately evident, as to get to the lake we needed to travel through the placid waters of the canal, which is classified as a “no-wake” zone probably because sailing through it would not wake anyone thanks to the severely reduced speed restrictions, and evidenced by the ducks that swam by us in a blur, laughing via quacks as they went.

Despite this, Justine was having a marvelous time, looking at the scenery as we floated by, meandering around the boat, tugging at her life jacket, and flashing the wide smile she is noted for on her Wikipedia page. My wife and I, and her mother and father-in-law took turns holding her, leading her around the little deck so that she could see everything that was going on.  Eventually we reached the mouth of the lake, and then things started to head downhill.

It was very windy, and for you nautical types, lots of wind equals lots of whitecaps, and a transition from a placid float to a vomit inducing rocking that has claimed many a sailor’s lunch over the millenia.  Justine was not a big fan of this, nor was my wife, who made the dreaded mistake of heading into a small enclosed compartment near the front of the boat to try and calm here.  Nautical types, shake your head in bewilderment…now. Non-nautical types – this makes things seriously worse for your nausea level.

Our fearless captain’s solution to the issue (correctly I’m assured) was to “gun it” which reduced the swaying side to side significantly but increased our vertical up and down by a factor of ten, as we slammed through each whitecap at what seemed to be a breakneck speed (probably because I thought it would break my neck).  Justine was less of a fan of this (as judged by the screaming), but after a few minutes we seemed to break clear of the whitecaps and then spun around.  With the wind at our back, it was a much smoother ride as we headed back to the canal. Justine calmed down, my wife emerged from the vomitorium (without vomiting) and we headed back to the docks,

I believe that Justine took away a positive experience from her first trip on the waves, or at least will be too young to recall her wild screams barely discernible over the roar of the engine as we parted the waters of the lake.  In either case, with a boat at the ready for us only an hour up the road, the opportunity for once again trolling the waters will beckon to us.

After docking, we headed back to the house to undertake some fancy Fourth of July celebratin’.  We finally were able to relax, throw back a few beers and consume massive quantities of picnic food along with every member of my wife’s family that still lives, along with half the town and several drifters that seemed attracted to the spread.  An epic karoake session extended late into the night, and everything culminated with a nice fireworks show from a nearby neighbor who seemed to “know the mayor” and thus was “sanctioned for firework display.”

Finally, we piled into the car, and headed home, our Justine (and my wife) fast asleep.  A memorable weekend, to be sure.

- MWF -

View the birthday photo gallery…

It’s hard to believe that it was nearly three weeks ago that we held our daughter’s first birthday/Tupperware extravaganza in our backyard.  Our house is still littered with the remnants of the affair, with decorations gathering dust where they were hastily tossed, balloons hanging lazily as their nitrous slowly dissipates, and the pony still occasionally pawing at the garage door in hopes we might feed it after we locked it in there those many weeks ago.  But, I’m happy to report that the fiesta was a huge success, bringing together friends and family alike to share in the celebration of Justine’s happy milestone.

I’ve previously discussed the thought process behind our party planning, especially in light of the fact that our little one will have zero recollection of the day.  Consequently, preparations for the big day weren’t overly hectic or dramatic as we have experienced with other planned affairs. (the wedding, for example, or my annual Arbor Day Bonfire and Kegfest)  Most of the work involved the guillotining of a garden’s worth of veggies, and of course frantically jamming our daily life into closets to give the appearance that we don’t live in a cluttered nightmare of useless junk. But  I have to say that the highlight for me was getting the opportunity to take apart one of those human leg-sized pork loins from Sam’s Club and jamming the pieces into 3 crockpots full of the cheapest barbecue sauce we could find.  Incidentally, the house still reeks like a Louisiana smokehouse.

The day dawned and we were up early getting everything set.  All of our parents came from far and wide to help us with everything, from managing the food, to helping decorate, and above all entertaining the guest of honor who clearly had no conception of the whirlwind going on around her as everything was being situated.  Guests began arriving soon after, and we had a wonderful turnout of friends who dropped by to mooch off our free food, comb through our medicine cabinet, and at least toss a ‘happy birthday’ in Justine’s general direction while dropping off most likely wrapped but empty cardboard boxes.  We had the usual party elements, with a decent spread of food, coolers full of soda, an array of toys available for the kids (including a water table and a kiddie pool full of plastic balls which we had to keep shooing the parents out of) and of course cougar vs. jaguar cage matches.

The highlight of the entire affair (for me at least) was the cake.  A family friend (Jennifer) , with some “help” from my wife, crafted an amazing “Ace of Cakes-esque” birthday cake that matched our “baby block” theme.  Before everyone could dig into it, we presented to our little Justine (firmly strapped into her decorated high chair) her own tiny block shaped cake.  It took some prodding, but she eventually tore into it, shoving gobs of the sticky cake/fondant into her hair, down her dress, up her nose, and occasionally in her mouth.  This was her first real taste of anything cake-like, and as expected, she was bouncing off the walls for hours afterward.

Thankfully, the shaky weather forecast held, and only as the last guests were leaving, pilfered rolls of toilet paper shoved down their pant legs and expired amoxycillin prescriptions tucked away in purses, did the expected downpour begin.  We were left to drain the crockpots, attempt to stuff the fridge with the leftovers, and perform the ritual ‘gift-assembly’ that always seems to follow the large-scale baby/infant gift-giving bonanzas.

All in all, it was an amazing day and one that we will treasure for years to come.  Except for Justine of course, who will someday look at the pictures and more than likely accuse us of stealing some other kids party pictures and photoshopping her into them.  Actually, that is not a terrible idea…

- MWF -

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…