Gobble, Gobble!

Last week, as Thanksgiving quickly approached, I kept hearing about what a big deal this holiday is. The Food Network and Cooking Channel aired Thanksgiving-related programming almost nonstop. The news media droned on and on about all the traveling that people do in order to spend time with loved ones. People went nuts over the back-to-back-to-back NFL games. And of course, regular working stiffs all got the day off (and some, like Dad, also got Friday off).

And my parents aren’t immune to the excitement. In the hierarchy of holidays, Dad places Thanksgiving just a notch below Christmas. (And I assume it’s only at the No. 2 spot because he’s more of a kid than I am and Christmas will always be his undisputed champion of the world.) As for Mom, she babbled on and on about the Leftovers Sandwich (an unholy combo of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy on two overmatched slices of bread) that she makes every year on Friday.

Needless to say, I also was starting to get excited. And then the day itself came, and I realized that Thanksgiving for adults is known merely to babies as “Thursday.”

Here’s how adults celebrate Thanksgiving: They’re surrounded by family, they stuff themselves with food and drink until they can’t take anymore, and they fall asleep on the couch. Then they wake up, stuff themselves some more, and fall asleep again.

Here’s how babies celebrate EVERY SINGLE DAY: They’re surrounded by family, they stuff themselves with food and drink (mostly drink) until they can’t take anymore, and then they fall asleep on the couch. Then they wake up, stuff themselves some more, and fall asleep again.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s a great existence, being able to do that. But I guess I didn’t realize that days like these are so few and far between when you’re an adult. Makes me appreciate life as a baby a little more.

Having said all that, I certainly enjoyed my first Thanksgiving. I got to spend two days with my mom’s family in Redmond, including some great quality time with my cousins Jackson and Brooklyn and their gigantic dog Marley.

And on Friday, I also experienced my first-ever photo shoot, courtesy of my Auntie Amy. I got all dolled up in a few cute outfits, if only to prove to people that I own clothing more sophisticated than just onesies and sleepers.

Below are a few photos from a fun two days, and a small sampling of photos from the photo shoot.

My cousin Brooklyn (that's Marley on the left) says hello.

My cousin Jackson introduces me to Buzz Lightyear.

Mom has read that sips of beer help stimulate the flow of milk. Here, Dad (grudgingly) shares some of his.

Like I said, everybody falls asleep early on Thanksgiving. My Uncle Ben is a pretty good bed.

Getting my game face ready on Friday for my first Apple Cup on Saturday. Cougs lost. Again.

Getting cleaned up for my photo shoot.

The Old Man and the Eliza

As I wrote in my last blog post (yeah, yeah, I know, that was a full two weeks ago), my mom is an incredible person. Watching her, you’d be surprised to know that I’m her first child, because she does a fantastic job taking care of me. I guess that’s what working in college at a daycare and as a nanny will do for you.

But my dad? That’s another story. Even though I know he really loves me, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still scared of me. Sure, the two of us have a good working relationship – I poop, he cleans it up – but I can tell he’s still learning on the fly. Until I came along, he’d only held a few small babies in his life, and certainly never changed a diaper or given a baby a bath or a bottle. The two of us haven’t been alone together for more than an hour or so at a time, and even then, Mom’s been in the other room napping, ready to spring into action if Dad does something stupid.

Would you want this guy to take care of your child?

That’s what made last night's events so historic. Last night, for the first time in my life, I spent an entire evening with just my dad to look after me. You see, Mom is a fan of a certain book and film series known as “Twilight” (boy, is she going to be happy when she sees that I wrote this for all the world to see), and she and a bunch of friends met up to go to dinner and then see the latest two-hour frontal lobotomy served up on the big screen.

That meant that Dad and I got to spend the evening together, unsupervised, trying not to break each other (physically or emotionally). And because I’m a little lazy (hence the two weeks between blog posts), I’m going to rely on the laziest of blog practices and provide a running diary of the night that was. Here we go…

6:30 p.m. Dad picks me up at the restaurant where Mom and her friends are having dinner. I lose sight of her after about 20 steps. It’s just Dad and me. Folks, we are now working without a safety net. Dad looks worried. That makes two of us.

6:45 p.m. We get to the car. This is going to be an interesting ride. Who still listens to Motley Crue?

7 p.m. We made it home! Dad looks strangely relieved. Before doing anything else, he flips on the TV and turns it to Monday Night Football, mumbling, “I just want to see what the score is.” I'm not sure who he's trying to convince. It's not like I could change the channel even if I wanted to. No matter. I don’t mind watching football. And I just noticed that this Tom Brady fellow has the same chin as me. I’ll have to ask Mom about that when I get a little older.

7:10 p.m. I’m hungry. Think I’ll let Dad know. And, on a related note, my lungs are developing nicely, because I think the neighbors just heard me.

7:12 p.m. Since he always changes me before I get fed, I’ve decided to leave him a little present.

7:22 p.m. Dinner time! For me? A bottle of breast milk. Again. For Dad? A Brooklyn Bridge pizza from Pagliacci. Sometimes being a baby kind of stinks.

Guess which one of us is happy about their dinner?

7:27 p.m. Just finished the bottle, and Dad’s burping me. I drool down his back, just to remind him who’s in charge.

7:31 p.m. I’m full of milk, I’m bundled in a blanket, and Dad’s rocking me to sleep. Does he really think this is going to put me to sleep? Well, I am getting a little drowsy.  Actually, very drows….ZZZZZZ.

8:28 p.m. And I’m back! Not a bad nap. I feel rested. Dad says he's excited I only slept for an hour, because it means I might sleep more during the night with Mom.

8:34 p.m. Since I'm alert and awake, Dad pops me on his lap and starts waving a rattle in my face. Apparently this is supposed to help improve my eyesight and tracking abilities. That may be so, but all it's doing right now is making me want to punch him.

8:45 p.m. Dad does some dishes and plunks me into my swing chair. Mmmm… swing chair. This is like Disneyland for a newborn.

8:55 p.m. I could use another snack.

8:57 p.m. And another diaper change, it turns out.

9:05 p.m. Dad uncorks another bottle. It's a 2011 Cabernet Sauvigmom from Meadows Vineyards. Very good year.

9:10 p.m. More burping. Dad seems a little too proud when I let loose a big one.

9:30 p.m. Mom’s home! Once again, Dad looks strangely relieved. I guess I am too, but mostly because I missed her. I've gotta admit, Dad did a decent job. I'm still alive and in one piece. Sure, it was only three hours, but this was a big step for the two of us.

So what did we learn last night? Well, for starters, Dad's not as incompetent as he looks. Also, Mom loves crappy movies. But if it gets her out of the house periodically and keeps her sane, then I'm all for it. I could use the extra Daddy-Daughter Time.

By the way, I just noticed on the calendar that today, Nov. 22, I'm officially one month old. Just 191 months to go before I get my driver's license. I'm sure Dad's going to start crying the moment he reads that. He's already getting emotional over the fact that I've outgrown some of my newborn clothes.

Have a great Thanksgiving, everybody! I'll try to check in afterwards to let you know how my first Turkey Day goes. Till next time...

Reflections on an educational couple of weeks

This past Saturday, I turned two weeks old. Boy, where does the time go? It seems like it was only yesterday that I was just a tiny little baby who fell asleep immediately after sneezing because it sapped up so much of my energy. Oh, wait – that was yesterday, I still do that, and I still am a tiny little baby. But after two weeks, I'm not quite as tiny. According to my two-week checkup this morning, I'm now 21.5 inches long, and I weigh 8 pounds, 5 ounces. And that's all muscle mass, folks.

Anyway, you don't hit the big one-four (that's days, not years) without pausing to take stock of your life and reflect on how far you've come. That's why I thought I'd take this opportunity to share just a few of the many things I've learned. So without further ado, here are 10 important bits of knowledge I've gained during my two weeks of life:

10. Nobody celebrates quite like Dad when he opens up a diaper and sees that it's wet only, and no poop. And while we’re on the subject, pooping or peeing in the middle of a diaper change produces some of the most entertaining reactions from Mom and Dad.

9. Sleeping all day and being awake all night is tons of fun. Mom doesn't mind the fact that she hasn't had three consecutive hours of sleep since I came out, right? It's also fun to sleep whenever people come over to visit. It helps me seem mysterious.

8. Dad sings the WSU fight song way too much, although it is quite catchy. He also points out that the Cougs haven't won a game since I was born, and that I need to "improve my mojo." Whatever that means.

7. Umbilical cord stumps smell funny when they fall out.

6. We live in a beautiful area. I took my first walk on Alki Beach yesterday, and despite the frigid temperatures I was forced to endure (great parenting, guys), I got to see Elliott Bay, the Olympic Mountains, Mount Rainier and the Seattle skyline. I also saw the police and fire department bust a family that had built a campfire on the beach, so that was cool.

5. Things can get a little awkward when your parents take you to a dodgeball game and then see your pediatrician sitting in the bleachers. Turns out bringing an 11-day-old baby to a gym with balls flying everywhere can bring out the judgmental side of some people. Luckily, Dr. Lindsay is very understanding, and she thought it was great that I was getting out of the house.

4. There's nothing like having the Food Network on 12 hours a day to make a girl crave something more substantial (and tasty) than breast milk. But that Guy Fieri really creeps me out. Why hasn't anybody told him that his sunglasses are on backwards?

3. My Uncle Ben does Halloween right, and he makes for a pretty convincing Cookie Monster.

2. Grandparents are awesome, and I've got four great ones. And for that matter, I'm also crazy about my aunts, uncles and cousins. (Sorry, we're descending into the sappy portion of this blog entry.)

1. My mom is amazing. I think she's at least part superhero. She changes diapers like a champ (and even pinch-hits when Dad's doing one solo and gets grossed out), nurses like a pro, snuggles with me constantly, and keeps me company during my wide-awake-all-night parties. Now that Dad is back at work, it's going to be just me and her together for the vast majority of the days. There's nobody I'd rather hang out with.