Sleep and eat…

Our days are quickly losing the same rhythm they once held. Instead of the rough weekly schedule we used to assign a routine to (i.e. Thursday night we watch Survivor, Saturday we sleep in and then watch a movie, Sunday the Bills lose, etc.) it’s more of a day-by-day, hour-by-hour, formatted kind of life. When you need feeding just about every hour and a half – you stop thinking in terms of “Oh, it’s Thursday again already,” and start thinking, “Holy crap, is it 6 o’clock already? He needs the tit again, honey.”

Dad got to feed you for the first time this week, which was cool.

But, unfortunately for Mom, that makes it Dad feedings: 1 ; Mom feedings: 475. Eventually they’ll be enough milk to build up a ready supply (at which point Dad gets you at the 2 a.m. feeding), but for now, it’s all Mom. I don’t think you’ll probably ever appreciate that, but man alive that’s a lot of hard work.

When you’re not eating, or screaming so you can make sure that we are aware that you’d rather be eating, you’re pretty much sleeping. When you’re sleeping, Mom and Dad are trying to squeeze in as much down time as possible too. You’ve also started getting some “tummy time” in with Dad, who has found that it’s a good way to quiet you down.

 

You were probably pretty much ready to look away from the t.v. when the Bills had their second turnover, anyway. Seriously, who goes for it on fourth down like that?

 

Since you have this miraculous knack for getting urine and poop out of you diaper, either through osmosis or sheer force of will, we change you a lot and have started giving you baths. Seriously, Murphy…let me tell you about your “ability.” So I had you on the changing table and I was reading up on infant baths, not two feet away, while your Mom was getting your towel and bath ready. I looked over at you and I saw something wet on your face and the unmistakable distortion of an impending screaming fit.

“Alyssa, what did you put on the kid’s head?”

“I didn’t put anything on the kid’s head, Rich.”

“Alyssa, Murphy just managed to piss on his own face.”

Who is keeping score for “Parents of the Year,” anyway? That’s got to get us some points. Needless to say, you got your first and second baths this week and you actually seemed to like them. We were told you’d scream, but maybe a love for the water can be passed down through the bloodline.

You do seem to enjoy getting changed. Hell, if I had someone who fed me, carried me and allowed me to defecate wherever I sat…I’d have the same look on my face.

Well, that’s about all for the photoblog this week. Next week we’ll have to start getting creative. As we get progressively less and less sleep, things will probably be surreal enough for some dramatic imagery. Until then – here’s your mom in stripes.

 

 

 

 

One week down…

Nine hundred and thirty nine to go until your 18th birthday. I more or less left home when I was 16 and your mom when she was 17, but 18 is more realistic I hope…and I have to be honest with you, after this week passed by so quickly – 939 doesn’t seem like that large a number. Before we know it you’ll be ditching your lame mom and dad to join the circus, ride the rails or wander the earth like Kane. I’m serious, it’s been a hell of a week.

First off, I’ve started this photoblog for you. I tried to start a hand-written journal for you to read, but I hate writing things down and so that went out the window in half a heartbeat. Blogging is easier, and I can include pictures, which not only satiates my need to chronicle your early life with imagery – but it allows your extended family and friends to see you at the same time. Smarter, not harder, I always say…

Hey – so I’m biased…but you’re a damned fine looking one-week old.

 

You look good channel-mixed, too…

 

 

Let’s see…what all happened this week? The dog ate a pound of fudge, and I had to make her vomit by pouring hydrogen peroxide down her throat. That was our first night home alone with you. You got a belly button when your umbilical cord came off – that was exciting. You crapped yourself a whole lot, and your mom and I learned the special joys of a urinating son (you have impeccable comic timing). Oh, and you saw your first Bills game – and whattya know…the Bills won!

After the seventh sack, you lost interest, though. I’d post the pictures of us trying to prop you up next to the television (it’s early in our campaign for Parents of the Year) – but this shot is much sweeter…

 

 

You also were able to sleep through the night TWICE and can sortof hold your head up on your own already. When we had your first pediatric appointment today, you even gained your first pound. You’ll be kicking field goals in no time. I have to note that you weren’t at all impressed with the doctor’s visit. Two different nurses felt the wrath of your magical urine spray – we still haven’t figured out how you can pee out of a closed diaper with such accuracy – but it’s only been a week.