"Yeah, I'll get to it.."

I think going almost a year without writing anything is probably the single biggest comment I can make about parenthood. When asked if I'm going to write anymore my response has been typically "Yeah, I'll get to it...right after I...(INSERT EXCUSE)."

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I think sing-a-long DVDs/CDS were invented by the State Department in our war on terror. Somehow the technology got out in the open and is unfortunately being used by the general public to occupy toddlers. It's like audio-Anthrax.

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Mark (holding Foster to his belly with one hand while Amy is trying to get some clothes on him): "You know Babe, I've never grabbed another man's crotch this long in my life!"

Amy (stopping in her tracks): "This long? Couldn't you have said 'ever'?"

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Sometimes I feel bad and think that diaper rash is like Nature's report card of parenting. Other times I think the little bastard should just quit shitting wet poop!

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Car Rides at one and a half are much easier these days than they were at 6 months. Thank you, Dodge Caravan DVD player...you will forever have a warm spot in my heart. It's probably our vehicle's very best safety feature.

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Speaking of DVD's. Foster thinks every movie that's played in the car is called "Nemo". It actually offends my film-sensibilities more than it should.

Foster: "Nemo"

Mark: "No, this is How to Train Your Dragon."

Foster: "Nemo!!"

Mark: "Dragon!!"

Foster: "NEMO!!!!"

Mark: "DRAGON!!!!"

(continue for 12 miles...)

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We've discovered that Foster is part feline. He likes to be played with and tackled...but only when HE wants to and only for short periods of time. It's driving Caleb a little nuts because he'll get attacked and after 10 seconds of wrestling Foster wants done with the whole thing. Caleb then becomes a double victim in that Foster screams his head off at him and then Amy and I have to also scold Caleb to "let him go".

Poor kid. These trials make the book "Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing" move up my list of all-time classics.

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Caleb is getting to be a philosopher. We had a conversation about lying the other day and he hit me with this one:

"Mark, if you told two lies today and then were asked how many you told...you could say two...or you could say three...and you'd be right on both!"

It's a mind blower.

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Foster is starting a brand new sleeping ritual. I hate to even write it down for fear of it changing...but for the past few nights he's given Amy and I a chance to sleep in the same bed for more than 6 hours at a clip. For those in the know, this is historic and life changing for the Swans-Doll-Ipers. If it continues for a few more nights I might officially declare an end to our War on Sleep and place a "mission accomplished" banner outside our bedroom. Songs, gifts, and holidays should be instituted for this momentous day of peace.

Amy looks at me funny sometimes...

The other day I grabbed Amy’s boob. She was holding Foster and when he spit up I reached over with a towel and sort of pushed one of the girls to the side so I could get at the mess and help her clean it up. Amy just stared at me until I realized what I was doing.

I said that romance wasn’t dead...it was just hibernating.

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Speaking of romance, I remember the days when there was excitement and a bit of sexiness involved with unbuckling or unfastening articles of clothing in front of your mate. This does not apply when you are carrying a sleeping child in a carrier and gently trying to get him to lie down without waking him up:

“Oh Honey, I can’t wait to be with you! But first, have you got his paci? Ok, good. On the count of three, I’ll get him unbuckled and you help cradle his head down. I’ll put the Paci in and you start the aquarium. Then we’ll make sweet, sweet love. Ready? One…two…”

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Today I was playing on the computer while Amy was nursing Foster. He fussed a bit and out of habit I asked if I could help. I got another blank stare from Amy.

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Foster displayed his first real act of defiance with me the other day. I was putting him in his car seat for like the 6th time and the poor guy was just not having it. Instead of the standard cry and arm flail, I got concentrated slapping of my hands while I was trying to buckle him in. I felt sad for him and also a little sad for me. My little guy in his own way said his first “no”. Frown.

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My process for writing this blog is that I usually try to remember quirky things as they happen throughout the week and then just jot them down with a little scribble to remind me about it later. This was in my notes from a few weeks back:

Black Box as It Relates to Blogs.

I have no idea what it means. Please just assume it was witty and amusing.

Parenting thoughts of the month

Mark: So, now that Foster is ready for cereal what should we use? Something kind of easy on him? Rice Crispies?

Amy: Ha ha ha. Good one.

Mark: What are you talking about?

Amy: Oh. Dear lord...

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I was watching Nickelodeon the other day (sigh) and noticed something creepy. On most of the toy commercials with action figures there is a point when they fly across the screen in excitement, carried by anonymous hands as they battle each other. In alarming frequency you'll be able to see that the hands carrying the toys are adult hands. One I saw the other day actually had hair on the knuckles. *Shudder*

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Now that we're feeding Foster, I have another word for my dad-dictionary: Decoy Spoon. This is not the main spoon to use, but rather the extra one that you have to psych your kid out in holding so you can actually get anything near his face. When Amy gave me one to use I kind of laughed at her at first. Now it's not so funny.

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Another edition in the Dictionary is: TOH. This is what Amy and I type to each other when sometimes we're emailing or texting throughout the day. It means typing-one-handed (while holding the baby) and gives us permission to avoid punctuation, capitalization and basically be short without having hurt feelings.

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Putting Foster to sleep, or rather, KEEPING him asleep is getting more and more delicate these nights. We think it's partly because he's becoming more interested in the sounds and smells around him. Anyway, it's making me feel like the Pink Panther whenever I enter or exit his room. Also, for some strange reason it's also the time of night when I'm at my clumsiest! If there is a chance I'll stub a foot or bang a door or knock over something...it's about 100 times more likely to happen when the baby is asleep. Why is that?

Caleb's letter to Santa (dictated to Mark)

Dear Santa,

How’s your wife, elves and reindeer doing? Did you have a good year last year? Can I have some more pictures of your reindeer?

This Christmas I want:

A computer
An Ipod
A DSI
Donkey Kong vs Mario DS Game
Wii Sonic Colors
Wii Monster Jam
A golden necklace
Stuffed animals bears
Webkinz
An electronic book reader thing (Amazon’s Kindle)
A sleighride on your sleigh
A new Toboggan
A full body snow suit
An electronic button
A robot that does everything I want it to
Wii Carnivals Games 1 and 2
Raymond Rabbids Travel through time Wii game
Donkey Kong Country DS Game
MLB Power Pros Wii Game
Mario Super Sluggers Wii Game

And Foster wants…

Jiggly Toys
Bouncy ball (that he wouldn’t choke on)
Baby cars and trucks
A Toy Microphone so he can make sounds in it.

Have a safe flight!

Love,
Caleb and Foster

Oh yeah, I have a blog.

I believe in pacifier goblins. There is no way that we are so careless with these things that we just LOSE them all the time. I swear we've bought or been given 25 of these suckers (ha ha) over the past 4 months and now we're basically down to 2 or 3. We even bought a 3-pack of his favorite kind from Wal-Mart one day and I think one was gone before we got home from the store.

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I think I've figured out a potential career for Foster when he gets older: Dairy Queen soft serve machine. The kid has some serious game in the pooping department. He's also got this amazing ability to poop against all laws of gravity up his back towards his shoulder blades. It's like his sphincter is a question mark or something. When I'm not angry about going through a whole bottle of Shout in a month, I'm actually impressed.


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Baby Bjorn carriers are serious chick magnets. It seems like whenever I wear one in public I get lots of oos and awws from the ladies. Even Amy notices it. I guess it's because there is this whole "oh, look at him...he's SO into parenting" thing going on. Or perhaps there's a part of women who like to see a man slightly de-masculated...you know, like how it's more appealing to find a pet at the shelter who is potty trained already. I don't know. To me it's like a really large, wiggly fanny pack.

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A recent change is going on with my sleeping routine. I've taken to going to the sofa halfway through the night and returning again before sunrise. Kind of like a sleep vampire. It's not that Foster is the reason I'm up all night...but I'm generally a very light sleeper in the first place and with three people in the bedroom it's really difficult for me to get 3-4 hours in a row uninterrupted. I feel bad heading downstairs a lot of the time, slinking away like I'm having an affair with the couch, but I'm a wimp and need my zzz's.


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Now that Amy is about to stay at home with the kids, we've had some discussions about our "adult" time and how best to fit that in. Date nights are great when you can bring your kids to a sitter, however when the sitters come over to the house it all becomes a little tricky. Is it socially acceptable to invite a sitter over and just say "Have fun with the kids, we'll be upstairs with the TV on really loud!"?

Editor's (Amy) Note: No, it's not socially acceptable.

Rats.

More Randomness...

Having had the opportunity to stay at home with Fudge for a while...I've found that everything must be done in twenty minute increments. Feed the baby, change the baby, gently lay them down to sleep...then scramble like hell to get anything done. Especially things that require bending down. I give Amy super kudos for not going slightly mental with all of the uncertainty. Babies are like ticking timebombs (or even worse, dirty bombs).


Daycare thoughts:
--Ugly babies are held less than cute babies. Sad but true.
--Finding a good daycare unfortunately makes me feel bad two ways: One, if Fudge throws a fit in there then I feel bad for him and want to snatch him up. Two, if he's enjoying himself then I get jealous that he's giving smiles away that I could be collecting. I know it's stupid...but there you go.
--There should be a sign at daycares with a picture of high heels and the little ghostbusters red-circle thing with the line through it. My first day of picking up Fudge a woman was holding her baby and walking around and accidently stepped on the head of another baby. With spiked shoes! It caused quite the scene and made me think of buying Fudge a shoe helmet.
--Daycares are very institutional. There's a checkin and checkout process, scheduled times to do everything, and then at the end of the day they get a report card with how they did. Hmm.


Fudge is starting to smile with his whole body. Kind of like that monkey-with-the-cymbols toy.

True or False

Babies cause you to lose a lot of sleep.
TRUE. Well, I should say that babies cause the MOM to lose a lot of sleep and the dad a little sleep.

Changing diapers is the grossest part of dealing with a baby.
FALSE. Diapers are dirty...but they are confined and usually un-smelly. The folds under a baby's neck, however, are WAY grosser in constancy and aroma. It's like the cup-holder of infancy. They're sticky, smelly, and generally something you should clean more than you do.

Babies are noisy.
TRUE. I don't know how babies generate that much volume for their size but it's definitely in the vacuum cleaner decibel range. However, it's the pre-cursor noises that drive me more crazy than anything else. Kind of like the screeching tires before a really bad car wreck.

Baby age-counting in weeks or months is kind of annoying.
TRUE. I'm vowing to try to keep it to months the first year and then thereafter Foster will be either 1 or 2. Saying 16 months is too much math.

Dressing a baby is a great time for bonding with your child.
FALSE. Dressing a child is a great time for seeing how long you can make your baby scream and cry while you try to get his f-ing leg in the little froggy footies. It's also a great time for trying to stretch the seems out of the neck of a onesie before getting it lodged halfway over his head and causing him to suffocate. It's also a great time for trying to figure out where the hell that mystery snap goes when it seems like everything is already snapped up. Oh yes...dressing a baby is a complete joy.

Having a baby is worth it.
True.