Teddy is officially one month old! I would like to say that this month flew by because of sheer joy…but the truth is far more complicated. My son is a normal baby and hence requires a lot of attention, food, and diaper changes. Added to this “normal” baby workload is the fact that Teddy needs supplemental formula. During the first three weeks, we had to bird-feed him through a special syringe because we were told bottle feeding would confuse his tiny brain – apparently, the nipple on a bottle is different than my wife’s nipple. After several exhausting nights, we gave up on the arduous procedure of the syringe and went against the better judgment of the breastfeeding police. We gave him a bottle and it took him about 1 second to figure it out. The bottle along with breastfeeding helped Teddy gain 3 pounds within two weeks and helped us get some well-needed rest. I once took a class in “Animal Behavior” while getting my Biology degree – I think more than anything else, that class has gotten me through the past month. My son, for all intents and purposes, is like a little puppy right now. He doesn’t have any rational thought or reasoning – my Chihuahua has a leg up on him at this point in time. It sounds harsh to say, but it is the truth – all babies start at the bottom of the IQ animal totem pole.
There are three significant things babies want throughout the day: food, comfort, and security. The first two needs are pretty easy to figure out as a parent – feed the baby every couple of hours and change the diaper. The last need is what requires some knowledge of animal behavior. Teddy is very good at crying and grunting so that he will be held and feel secure. Unfortunately for Teddy, we both need sleep. When we lay him in the crib he grunts almost constantly, and after a month, I have deciphered the meaning of those grunts. A single grunt within a 10-minute timespan means he is dreaming of breasts. A double grunt within a 5-minute timespan means he is farting, pooping, or dreaming of a field of breasts. A triple grunt within a 2-minute timespan means he is about to wake up and cry for my wife’s breasts. Hence, instead of rushing to comfort him at every grunt, I now have a fickle system of baby mathematics.
For matters other than grunting, we took Teddy in for professional pictures, and I am proud to post them below. The photo shoot was exhausting, and I commend the photographer for her patience – Teddy feigned sleep like a cocaine addict on the first of the month. He is scheduled for more pictures at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months…please keep us in your prayers.
Christina is now 9 months pregnant! Our house is filled with baby stuff, and I don’t know what to do with half of it. We have a panoply of beds for Teddy to sleep in: a crib in the main room, a portable crib in the living room, a baby rocker, a baby crawler, a play mat, and a bathtub sleeper. I’m jealous of my son’s sleep options and I wish I would have taken more advantage of my infancy. It is a cruel joke that we don’t remember the best years of our life; the years when all we had to do was eat, sleep, and poop. The last main obstacle before he comes is figuring out the cloth diapers. I am both a philosopher and a cheapskate. My budget requires reusable diapers and hence a firm relationship with poop. People give me a lot of advice in respects to cloth diapers.
- “They’re great! I used those with my 10 babies. My sister wives love them also.”
- “Do you not care about your son? You know I just saw on the news that studies found more poop residue in cloth diapers compared to disposable diapers!”
- “Don’t listen to the naysayers. You’ll get used to spraying crap into the toilet.”
Besides the obvious complexities of discarding the waste, cloth diapers have the added disadvantage of a thousand buttons. To factor in all baby sizes – from teacup chihuahua to Mississippi Bufford – the clothe diaper provides you with Transformer level adaptability. There is a row of buttons that looks like a dominatrix, and there is an endless number of insertable pads. Added to these problems is the fact that Teddy is a boy. I know from personal experience that the penis lives by its own rules. A second brain that is hard to control for a grown man is essentially a Cracken-like monster for a newborn baby. There is no doubt that Teddy’s one-eyed bandit will take advantage of my clothe diaper fumbling.
Besides my pee anxiety, there is the anxiety of the snuggie. Human babies have the most high maintenance sleep requirements in the animal kingdom. Take a newly born crocodile. As soon as that crocodile leaves the egg, it slithers into the water and sleeps in the mud. Take a newly born ferret. As soon as that ferret comes out of its mother, it sleeps in some nasty pine needle foliage. Take my son Teddy. As soon as he is born, he requires a specialized snuggie which makes him look like a polygon from a high-school geometry textbook. The human baby cannot survive outside this modern covering, and if a blanket is put into the crib, Child Protective Services will be called. Along with the Snuggie comes the fear of overheating the baby. He must be wrapped up like a snug burrito but at the same time be cooler than a bowl of gazpacho. A cruel joke for sure and I believe a ploy by the pharmaceutical companies to increase sales of Xanax.
Finally, I must update you on my beautiful wife. Christina glows like the sunshine, and her belly looks like a basketball. I’ve never before looked at a pregnant woman and thought – “Wow she still looks like she could go to work.” Christina tries to moan and groan, but I think she could probably carry that baby for another 9 months – the Jerome Bettis of pregnancy. Her hormones have been erratic the last week – when I told her that she was like Brett Farve, she got agitated. The final countdown is upon us, and I am genuinely ecstatic to be a father. I can’t wait to dodge little Teddy’s pee and master the cloth diaper instruction manual. I can’t wait to hold my son and place him in my wife’s arms. I can’t wait to teach Teddy about life and help him discover wisdom. Keep us in your prayers; Lord willing, the next pregnancy update will come with pictures of my son. Here’s to the final countdown!