The Science Of Sleep

So Henry is one week shy of 6 months old.

He is a jumperoo-jumping, one-tooth-having, baby deck shoe-wearing, mini Aaron doppelganger. He is also still not sleeping through the night. I can't recall when Lydia began sleeping through the night, but if she was by this point I wouldn't be surprised. I know you're not supposed to compare your children, but let's: even at this young age, Mr. Henry is far more aggressive than Little Miss was/is. Where Lydia sounded sad and pitiful (albeit loud) while lying in bed whinging, Henry sounds angry - grunting, seething, screaming. He kicks. He squirms, He rolls. He jams his legs in the rungs of the crib. It takes an entirely different part of your brain to talk yourself into leaving things be. I daresay it's harder. And then if/when you pick him up, he's immediately back to his typical smiley charming self ("What crying? Me?")...

Our new tact - fill his belly with heavy pureed veggies and meats and cereals. Two days in, it seems to be working a little better. And if things take a turn for the worse - I'm going to puree an entire turkey and pour it into him. Always seems to work for me.

In other sleep-related news: the Stanley Cup finals have just started, thereby ensuring at least four relatively late nights for yours truly.

EDIT: Yay! Henry slept through the night last night, or at least from 11:00 PM to 6:30 AM – despite the massive thunderstorms and howling winds and lightning. Ironically and unfortunately, Lydia was scared awake by the epic electrical storm and thus did not sleep through the night. Boo! Her description of the thunder: “it sounded like a lion growling in the grass”. End groggy transmission.

Captain's Log - May 27

My birthday started off pretty good - Cannonball was playing on the radio when I climbed into the car, Terri had made me a lunch, the cats didn't piss on the floor - but quickly devolved with an hour-and-a-half wait alongside all of the silver foxes at the hospital (for blood collection). As a depressed/depressing group, we collectively watched the Canada AM news loop three times over. Did you know that there is a family in Toronto trying to raise their baby to be gender-less? Did you know that Seamus likes "One Night In Bangkok"? Did you know that RBC made $1.506B this quarter? I do. The grey team does, too.

Despite being at work, the day has picked up considerably - now that I am allowed to eat (I had to fast for blood collection). A phone message from the fam was nice, too. Lydia can do a pretty bang on Wiggles Australian accent - "G'day squirrel" - that makes me laugh every time.

Tonight - dinner. Tomorrow night - gamez night. Sunday - lobster.

And now, if I may, in a bit of birthday blog narcissism - here are my All-Time Top 10 Favourite Beastie Boys songs:

1 - So What'Cha Want
2 - Professor Booty
3 - Three Minute Rule
4 - Shake Your Rump
5 - Get It Together
6 - Hey Ladies
7 - Sure Shot
8 - Something's Got To Give
9 - Flute Loop
10 - Root Down

Oi!

Busy Times

Daddy-Daughter Week

Sooooo... Moms and Henry have split town for Fort Mac to visit her Dad, leaving Lydia and me to take care of things on the home front. Contrary to sitcom stereotypes we have not barricaded ourselves indoors behind an overturned mattress, nor are we running around pants-less on floors lined with garbage bags (tempting though it may be), nor are we surviving solely on a diet of pop and cake (although we have been eating a potentially-unhealthy amount of Cheerios, pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches). No, life has been relatively civil, albeit with much less adult conversation and much more yelling at pixelated Skype images through choppy microphones.

Daddy-Daughter week began with a three-year old's bouncey castle birthday party, which was followed by a rainy day trip to the Discovery Centre, a day at the Natural History Museum, and nights at both grandparents'. The plan was to keep Little Miss as busy as possible with fun activities so that she might not get upset Mom was gone. Well, between the jam-packed schedule and the Skype-ness, mission accomplished. If there have been any indications that Lydia might be missing her mother and brother - aside from a few "where's Mom?"s and "is Henry sleeping?"s (and even those have stopped) - I haven't been able to detect them. Sorry Mom, and sincerely, phew.

That being said - the week is only half over, and I have probably just jinxed everything...

Sorry, Moms

Happy belated Mother's Day, moms. Mother's Day weekend in our household was pretty subdued/messy/pitiful on account of (a) everyone being sick, (b) Henry deciding to boycott sleeping for more than one hour at a time, and (c) me breaking out in my second ever cold sore. Many tears were shed, and much mysterious fluid leaked from my face.

Best. Mother's Day. Ever.

My attempts at making the day special started with my burning Terri's toast and scrambled eggs (however the hell you do that), and ended with my setting fire to several thick, perfectly marinated pork chops, which were left unattended on the barbeque for mere minutes. Again, many tears were shed and much mysterious fluid leaked from my face. Sigh.

And the good times continue to roll - today we all stayed home, sick and snotty, and tried to sleep and recuperate in general. With those stated intentions, today was a failure - but not without its high points: Terri made some great squash soup, and our one family outing was to the pet store to check out the gold fish.

Let's hope Father's Day comes sees us healthier...

Sportscentre: Cole Harbour

Let's talk about my company hockey tournament. I play in it every year, and while it used to be a goldmine for drunken ref-punching debauchery and teste-flashing fat old guy stories, it has since settled down somewhat, with the hiring of actual referees (instead of volunteers) and a change of venue (out of Eastern Passage).

Well, what this year's tournament lacked in drunken violence and nudity, it more than made up for in DISGUSTING INJURIES.

See: two opposing players collide in front of our net - the helmet of one player smooshing the face of the other, driving his front teeth through his top lip, busting up his nose and leaving him dizzy and bloody on the ice. After a short stint in the"quiet room", he returned to finish the game, possibly concussed, with a mosaic of steri-strips holding his face skin together...

Then there was our defenseman who fell circling the net and dislocated his shoulder. Writhing and screaming on the ice, he managed to pop it back into place like a lanky Canadian Riggs (apparently this used to happen all the time). Maybe inspired by the bloodied opposition (see above), said D-man stayed on the bench and felt strong enough to play the next shift. Perhaps unsurprisingly, after colliding with an opposing player on an unsuccessful end-to-end rush, he dislocated the shoulder again and was not able to shake it back into position. Much screaming and stomach-turning ensued...

Ick (and that's not mentioning the bruised ribs and bloody noses and miscellaneous slashes-to-the-groin)...

Aye, but it was all in good fun!

BOING!

It's Easter, or "second Christmas", and the kids are all-a hopped up on sugar and presents and visiting and parties. Even Henry, who had his first dose of non-human milk foodstuff today. And his response - enthusiastic kicking and squealing, followed by, thankfully for all, longer napping.

Yay!

Raves

Say Hello To Henry (Day 127)

Henry is a shade over 4 months old now, and a giant among infants. Acquaintances have mistaken him for a toddler. Strangers have fled for safety. Local scouts have been sizing him up for the 2012 CFL entry draft. He is wearing clothing for 12-month olds, and diapers for horses. Terri is going to start him on solids early because why not. And now, if drool flow rate is any indication, it seems he may be teething (whether they will be adult teeth remains to be seen).

Henry can now reach for, clutch and grab items in front of his face, and - just like Lydia - brings them straight to his mouth. Toys that are attached to, say, his exer-saucer or seat and can not reach his mouth get yelled at until Mom or Dad intervene. Little Man has yet to roll over or sit up on his own, but this is not for lack of trying - both on his part and ours (we try to guide him with Sophie the squeaky giraffe). Bathing Henry is becoming something of a challenge because he spends much of the time trying to sit up from his bathing "recliner". It looks like he's doing baby crunches; Henry is wants to have a solid core. The rest of his time in the bath is spent kicking and splashing and giggling at his own kicking and splashing.

While not yet sleeping through the night, Henry is still pretty laid back. He coos and smiles and laughs pretty easily, but is starting to get a little weird (read: fussy, not King's weird) when he finds that he is in the arms of someone who is not his Mom or Dad. Lydia went through a similar phase, and all broken hearts have since mended…

Meanwhile, Lydia has taken to obsessing over "scary" books (and hiding and bed jumping and cartoons and babies) - specifically a Disney Jungle Book story and a Snow White board book (which she has memorized). The Jungle Book story has Mowgli being tormented and chased by evil monkeys and Kaa the Python, and I made the mistake of saying that it might be a little too scary for her. Well, of course, now she wants to read it every night, leaving Mom and Dad to make up happy words for images of a little boy being strangled by a snake and left for dead in a deep pit by said evil monkeys. Our interpretation changes each night, so I'm sure Lydia has no idea how the story goes - but she loves it. As for Snow White, in her words, "the Wicked Queen is meeeean... but she's got a pretty dress!"

Little Miss's love of handling plastic babies has been carefully applied to both Henry and her new cousin Michael, and her parenting skills honed on her two dinosaur toys, Steggy and Chachi, whom she bathes and puts to bed each night. She has also been found, on occasion, pretending to breastfeed her dolls (not dinosaurs). She even burps them. Her attention to detail is noteworthy…

In other news, two of my closer friends have had babies in recent weeks and I have yet to make any non-Facebook contact with them. And I'm feeling the guilt. Damn you distractions and convenient impersonal social networking! No excuses...

Les Youppis! (Playoff Edition)

Ladies and gentlemen, behold Les Youppis! (2011 Playoff Edition):

Tim Thomas, BOS
Ryan Kesler, VAN
Alexandre Burrows, VAN
Jordan Staal, PIT
Kris Letang, PIT
James Neal, PIT
Brad Marchand, BOS
Drew Stafford, BUF
Toni Lydman, ANA
Cam Fowler, ANA
Marc-Edouard Vlasic, SJ
Derek Stepan, NYR

You'll notice no Habs and a few Bruins. My heart is broken nut my eyes are on the prize.

Ommm.

La La Love You

So I saw the Pixies on Saturday - and it was pretty great. I was sober, driving, old. We sat at the back, in the lower bowl, where we were able to watch the audience dance and scream and sing along ("chien!").

By no means was I the youngest. There were many older men and ladies - grey, denim-clad, balding, bespectacled (the same vintage as the band, really). We all sat together - holding hands and swaying. It was pretty great.

Seriously though - all of Doolittle played in succession? Tame. Number 13 Baby. Here Comes Your Man. Hey! The sound was fantastic. The visuals, save for the gratuitous (albeit not unexpected) shot of "slicing up eyeballs" (oh-ho-ho-ho!), also fantastic. Frank Black yipped and screamed and barked. Kim Deal handled the banter and the bass. Joey Santiago's guitar was loud, clashing, melodic - all in the right places. The drummer did his thing and sang that song. The show had few surprises, which surprised no one.

As a Saturday out, as a concert experience... pretty great.

(Not much of a concert review, I know...)

Brunch Kills

I.e. leads to caffeine overdoses and unnecessary suppers - but it is always fantastic at the time. And it was.

PS: I love weekends - the napping, the loafing, the brunching, the coffee, the visiting, the occasional productive afternoon, the sports, the guilt free beers. Love it.

Baby Michael!

Aaron and Terri and Lydia and Henry want to welcome our new nephew/cousin baby Michael Paul to the family, and to congratulate his parents, Tamara and Danny. Welcome, congrats!

Lydia and Henry and the fam all stopped by the hospital to see the new addition and his happy, exhausted Mom and Dad - who unfortunately are stuck in a shared, semi-private room. Boo.

Michael was active and awake and sucking on his hands for most of the day, we were told, but for the brief time we were there, he simply snoozed - barely even twitching as he was passed from waiting arms to waiting arms. He felt like a feather.

Lydia was typically shy in the crowd of people, but not so shy that she couldn't push her way through to peer and poke and coo at her doll-sized cousin. Meanwhile Henry, at 17 lbs, looked downright gargantuan next to Michael's 6 lbs 8 oz. Also, he had no idea what was going on - he's only 4 months old.

Here's hoping everyone has a safe and somewhat restful night.

OMG!

Community, eh?

I just watched this week of Community - the Pulp Fiction episode - and it might just be my favourite one yet. And those are pretty big words from someone who has yet to really dislike an episode. The show has a real sentimental undertone, that I suppose would be kind of off-putting and distracting if you came in cold-turkey and were expecting something more along the lines of 30 Rock - but I feel like they really nailed it in this episode, which is a nice companion piece to The Godfather episode they did last season.

Geez, I just wanted to come on here and gush and now I sound all critic-y. Anyways, it's worth watching just to see Chevy Chase dressed as The Gimp and saying "I'm hot and my balls are touching a zipper", although my favourite line is from Joel McHale re: how ants communicate ("by vomiting chemicals into each others mouths"). But if you haven't seen, you probably won't find that funny.

Checkitout.

Twitter Withdrawl

Oh, Twitter - some days I kind of miss you. Blogger doesn't quite lend itself to publishing my by-the-minute random half-thoughts/astute observations, and I do have a lot of half-thoughts, which don't always go over so well when spoken out loud. At least when I published them to Twitter, I couldn't actually see the rolling eyes and dismissive body language.

To think of all the viral videos I am missing or catching late. I didn't even know about this whole "Friday" phenomenon until, well, Friday - entire days late. And half-thoughts? This entire blog is based on a half-thought - both the blog in general (which was initially called "Rotary Phones" and intended to document my reminiscing of the 80s and 90s) and this particular post.

Now when I sit down to type something, all that comes out is kids stuff (fine), or I complain about the pressure I put on myself to keep this blog going, which can't be terribly exciting to read. If I hadn't exiled myself from the bottomless timewaste/snarkfest that is Twitter, I could have an outlet for my "clever" non-sequiturs, and they wouldn't be building up, nagging me, affecting my chi. For example, I could be noting how bizarre it is to be seeing the Leafs winning a game (as they are now). Or I could be commenting how Lydia has taken to naming all of her stuffed animals and toys "Chachi" for some reason. Or I could be complaining about the increasing ridiculousness of mens haircuts in television commercials nowadays. Or I could be lauding the new J. Mascis (great!) in 140 characters or less.

Or something like that.

I suppose I'm better off. Stay tuned for more cute pictures of Lydia and Henry.

Downtime

What to say? It is 9:00 on a Friday. Both kiddies have finally settled and I'm drinking a beer, perusing the net - just like old times! Let's update, shall we?

Henry: this boy is, apparently, enormous. He is just over 3 months old and weighs half as much as Lydia, who is 26 months his senior. That is to say he is over 15 pounds and wearing clothing for 12 month olds. He can also dunk. Bam! As for his insane bowel movement schedule (sorry Henry, and everyone else) - instead of having one single continuous BM, all day every day, Henry saves it all up for 3-4 days. The result: having to literally cut Mr. Henry out of his clothing for an emergency mid-day bath. It's like he's trying to hide from the Predator (that joke was disgusting, and nerdy, and it probably didn't make sense). He has also laughed (see pic two posts below), and is pretty good to smile on command. Babies, man... babies.

Lydia: her new obsessions are (i) jumping on the bed, (ii) watching Toopy & Binoo and (iii) sitting on the toilet and pretending to read fashion magazines - all of which can, and are, used as stall tactics when pressured to do, well, anything but jumping on the bed, watching Toopy & Binoo or sitting on the potty. To be fair, though, Toopy & Binoo is pretty funny. She can also read me a story, or at least pretend to while looking at the familiar pictures. Hers is a memory not yet stunted by alcohol and late nights and loud music. Toddlers, man... toddlers.

Cleo: still fat.

Tank: still pretty annoying.

My laptop: almost out of disk space and brutally slow. It gives me anxiety. It is an anxiety machine.

REM: have a new album out, and I probably won't buy it or listen to it. I gave up after Up.

My fantasy hockey team: Les Youppis! are solid in fourth place (of 12), sitting firmly in playoff position. My goalies now include Boucher (PHI) and Reimer (TOR, ugh); Halak was shipped off in a trade for a dizzy Brad Richards. I like my chances, or I at least like to tell myself that I like my chances. Either way - from your perspective, I like my chances.

Pixies: I'm-a goin!

There. If you care.

Behold

And now, you're up to date...

Words to follow.

First LOL: Male Edition

Yesterday this happened:

A giggle. And all it took was several minutes of shameless goofy mugging by Mom and Dad. This feat has yet to be recreated, but not for lack of trying...

Stay tuned for more pictures of my kids than you can handle/likely want. I have a few hours free tomorrow evening (traveling), so I should be good to flood the site with all of those long-requested Henry shots.

In My Defence

Last night Terri said that we’re not taking enough pictures of Henry, and she is probably right – pictures of Lydia after 3 months probably number in the thousands, or close to it. So: why only a few hundred pics of Henry?

Favoritism? Nope…

Diminished novelty? Nope – milestones are milestones and cute babies are cute babies, even if we have seen them before. Henry’s smile is no less special because Lydia smiles too…

Exhaustion? Maybe a little – the evenings are pretty tiring, busy and booked with routines. That said, the effort to grab a camera from the drawer and snap a few quick pics of Henry splashing in his tub or ogling his toys or snoozing is minimal…

Free time? See above. Maybe. Happy family photo time is not really built into our evening routines, although I suppose it could be…

Free hands? A-ha, this. While Terri is settling or feeding Henry, I am usually entertaining Lydia, or vice versa. Likewise, while one child is in the bath, the other is either being prepped for the bath or being put to bed. Further, if Henry is asleep, I don’t want to take my chances waking him with a click and a flash. And for those moments that Lydia is asleep and Henry is up, one of us is usually cleaning up after said evening routines, or cleaning the cat litter, or cleaning the stove, or folding the laundry, or (insert other miscellaneous domestic responsibilities). Noted: make effort.

New camera? Also this. When Lydia was born, we had just picked up our current trusty DSLR and fancy flash. New baby plus new camera equals many many (many) photos.

See, Henry, it’s nothing personal.