Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille

Yesterday morning, I had my first brush with the world of glamour, as Mom and Dad took me to Meridian Park in Seattle for my first professional photo shoot.

The photographer was Jessica, a friend of Mom’s family whose company, One Tree Photography, specializes in Seattle-area baby and family photography. Jessica and my Auntie Sarah have been friends since kindergarten, and Jessica took some fantastic photos of my cousins Jackson and Brooklyn a couple of years ago.

The photo session was a gift from Mom’s family from way back before I even was born, and it was originally meant to be a newborn session. But seeing as I looked like this when I was born…

…Mom and Dad smartly elected to wait until I’d grown into my face a bit more. Turns out, eight months is the perfect age. I'm old enough that my face is now more human-like, but still young enough that I can't say no to any of the different poses they put me in.

We had a lot of fun, although Mom, Dad and Jessica had to use every trick in the book to get me to look at the camera for more than two seconds at a time. Turns out, all it takes for a baby to get enamored by grass and dirt is to stick an expensive camera in her face. [Editor’s note: Having seen Jessica's previous work, and then seeing the way she worked with Eliza, we can’t recommend her highly enough. If you’re in the market for newborn/baby/family photos, visit her website and drop her a line.]

We shot for about an hour and a half and managed to take enough photos to fill up Jessica’s memory card. Here’s one example:

You’d be surprised to learn just how exhausting it is for a baby to sit for an extended period. But it is, and that’s why I crashed almost immediately after we got back in the car to go home.

Once we get a look at more of Jessica’s photos, I’ll be sure to share some of them here. And of course I’ll let you know if any other modeling opportunities come along.

June 28 update: As promised, here are a few more samples from Sunday's session. If you'd like to see them larger, visit this One Tree Photography page!

Being Daddy

Editor’s note: A few weeks ago, I asked Eliza if it would be OK if I wrote a guest column on her blog in honor of Father’s Day. She smiled at me, drooled and babbled incoherently.

Based on this exchange, plus all the good work that she’s been doing on this blog, it seems that she’s just like her old man – not nearly as good at expressing her thoughts via the spoken word as she is the written word. Of course, she can’t talk yet; I have no such excuse.

Excuses or not, that’s why I chose this blog as an outlet to discuss my life as Daddy. It beats having to actually talk to people. Warning: The following may be extremely sappy.

– Mike

I’ll never forget the day I found out that I was going to be a father. It was Feb. 16, 2011, and Lauren had just taken a pregnancy test. Wanting to avoid any mixed signals (“Is that a plus, a minus or a division sign?”), I had sprung for the best test I could find – one with a digital readout that clearly read “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant.” 

If the water turns blue, a baby for you!

If purple ye see, no baby thar be!

If ye test should fail, to a doctor set sail!

After Lauren did her business on it, we sat and stared at it for the longest three minutes of our lives. When we finally saw just one word – “Pregnant” – I knew right then that my life was changing. And I couldn’t have been more excited.

I’ve always loved kids. For the most part, they’re a lot more fun to hang out with than adults. And Lauren and I had talked for years about how we wanted to have a family. So as the months ticked by, leading up to her Oct. 22 due date, our excitement grew. But then, when we hit October, I started getting a little nervous. Was I ready for this? Of the million or so things you need to do when you’re responsible for the well-being of a tiny human, I had experience doing just a fraction of them.

I’m a worrier by nature and I fear the unknown, and that’s not a good combination when you’re about to become a father for the first time. Will I be able to change a diaper correctly? What do I do when she gets sick? What if she never stops crying? Did I pay close enough attention during baby CPR class? Will I ever get a full night of sleep again? And how the hell are we going to afford this?

Looking back on the night Eliza was born, I wish I had been happier. Not that I wasn’t happy – I was. I was ecstatic that mother and baby were both healthy, and the dream that we had both wanted so badly was coming true. But keeping me from fully enjoying the moment was the nagging feeling that I was in over my head.

A couple of minor complications meant we had to stay in the hospital for a few extra days, and as sick as I was of looking at the walls of our tiny room at Swedish, I was also somewhat dreading going home. No more nurses and doctors at our beck and call, ready to answer any questions or jump in to help if we didn’t know how to do something. We were on our own.

But then the strangest thing happened. Our first day at home came and went, and Eliza was still alive and well (and so were we). And then the next day. And the next. And our little flesh-colored rag doll kept getting bigger, stronger, and livelier. We were actually doing this!

Turns out, these past seven-plus months have easily been the happiest and most rewarding of my life. It’s impossible to describe the joy I feel from the simplest things. Like picking Eliza up after a nap and seeing her mouth stretch into a big toothless grin the moment she sees me. Or the way she snuggles into me when we’re lying in bed together. Or the way she giggles when I blow raspberries on her tummy. Or the way she smiles triumphantly after farting.

Of course, much of the credit for my happiness goes to my amazing wife. Lauren is the absolute perfect partner for raising a child. She has always been the most caring, loving person that I know, but seeing that care and love directed at our daughter is incredible. She’s been a steady, calming presence whenever I’ve felt overwhelmed or didn’t know what to do. She’s the one who got up with Eliza at night every three hours during those first three months, letting me sleep. She’s the one who sacrificed so many things while she was pregnant, taking every precaution to make sure Eliza was healthy.

Putting Eliza to bed together at night has quickly become the highlight of each day, with Lauren cuddling with her in the rocking chair while I read a few chapters from whatever book we’re working on at the time. It’s the one moment (out of many, many candidates) where I most feel like we’re a family.

Has it been difficult at times? Of course. And it will continue to be. But making it this far, relatively unscathed, has made me realize that whatever we face with Eliza, we’ll be as prepared as possible for it.

I’d give anything for the chance to tell Oct. 22 Mike that everything’s going to be great, and that being a father is the coolest thing imaginable. If June 15 Mike had been in that delivery room last fall, I’d have been doing backflips off the walls and seeking out people to hug like Jim Valvano at the 1983 Final Four.

I’m still dwelling on unknowns these days, but now, it’s those unknowns that are most thrilling to me. What is my little girl going to look like six months from now? What will her first word be? What will she be wearing when she takes her first steps? What will be the first book that she reads all by herself? What will be her favorite subject in school? I don’t have the answer to any of these questions, but I can’t wait to find out.

There is, however, one thing that I do know – on the day Baby Rose No. 2 comes along, you won’t find a happier, more excited person within 5,000 miles of that delivery room. And if you come near me, I’m going to hug the living crap out of you.

Maintaining a healthy pale glow

The upcoming Memorial Day weekend is considered the unofficial start of summer. And in case you were worried that I wasn’t fully prepared for my first summer – I’m sure it’s been eating away at you – fear not. I’m all set.

Now, considering my parents both have skin types that fall somewhere on the spectrum between “pasty white” and “clear,” I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’m doomed to a life of pale skin that will burn under any light stronger than a 40-watt bulb. You know that classic English rock song, “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” by Procol Harum? No? Well, anyway, that’s the Rose family in a nutshell. Mom and Dad know this, which is why I never go outside without taking proper precautions – hat, sunscreen, etc.

In the past few weeks, Mom and Dad have kicked it up a notch, stocking up on everything else necessary for me to safely enjoy those 65-degree, overcast Seattle summer days. First, there’s our new pool – an inflatable crab monstrosity that can be connected to a hose, creating a delightful little fountain. And, of course, it features a large sun-blocking canopy. We don’t have any great photos of it, so here’s one from the manufacturer. Horrifying, right?

Then there’s the sun tent, which can be conveniently brought to a back yard or the beach, and big enough to keep the entire Osmond family safe from the sun’s evil rays. It’s the only reason I was allowed outside with nothing but a diaper on:

And finally, there’s my new swimsuit. No fancy bikinis for this girl. This thing not only has long sleeves, but it’s also got a hood. And the hood has bear ears, because why not. The only way I’d have more coverage is if I was wearing a wetsuit. This style is going to be all the rage this season. At least, that’s what Mom keeps trying to convince me.

 At the very least, I look better in it than Dad does.

(By the way, in case you couldn't tell, the surest way to make a fortune in the world today is to develop some fancy new baby product, because every parent on earth will eventually convince themselves that it’s 100 percent necessary.)

We tried all this new gear out when we spent Mother’s Day in Redmond at YaYa and Grandpa’s house, and it was a complete success. Here I am in the pool with my cousin Brooklyn.

So now we know that I’ll be in good hands over the next few days, because tomorrow morning, Mom, Dad and I will be heading east to Lake Chelan for a long holiday weekend with Mom’s family. Can’t wait!

Come fly with me

On Saturday, I took my first-ever trip aboard an airplane when we flew to the Tri-Cities to wish my Grammy a happy belated Mother’s Day.

Mom and Dad were a little nervous, since they had no idea how I’d respond to being in the air (pressurization on the ears and all that fun stuff). Turns out, they had nothing to worry about. They took great care of me inside the plane, and our Saturday and Sunday flights both went off without a hitch. They made sure to feed me during takeoff and landing, so I was busy chewing and swallowing during all the altitude changes.

Dad also chose our flights wisely, picking not only the ones with the fewest people onboard (so we were ensured of having an entire row to ourselves), but also the ones flying at the times of day when I’m typically in the best mood. Overall, a lot of great planning and execution from the Rose parents.

Maybe I’m too young to appreciate it just yet, but being my age for your first airplane trip is nothing to sneeze at. The first time my dad ever set foot on a commercial airplane, he was 18 years old and had just graduated from high school. Me? I was just a few days short of seven months old. Having a dad who works in aviation certainly has its benefits.

So without further ado, here’s a short photo essay of our weekend trip, courtesy of Horizon Air (Shameless plug: Wings of the Great Northwest!™).

We arrived at Sea-Tac at 6:15 a.m., and Dad still didn't think we got there early enough.

Mom tells me he's always like this at airports.

Since I'm under 2 years old, I wasn't required to have my own seat. And with less than 20 people on the flight, there was no need to do so. But Dad was beyond excited for me to get my own boarding pass, and he wasn't going to be stopped.

We're officially airborne, and I'm downing a bottle like it's 2 minutes before last call.
Mom had to pull it away to make sure we had some left for when we landed.

You know, this is pretty cool.

I fell asleep with this outside my window...

...and woke up with this. You have no idea how disorienting this can be to a 7-month-old.

Touchdown in Pasco. Let's do it again!

Hello, Tri-Cities sunshine!

A few photos from Kennewick: First, some quality time with Grammy...

...and with Grandpa.

Mom discovers a fun new way of feeding me.