Questions for the public

Sorry, no time to do anything for today. I am playing in the Northern Symphonic Winds concert on Saturday night, which practices Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday afternoon. So, since I have nothing ready for you, I have QUESTIONS for you.

That's right. Questions that I'd like YOU to answer.

1) What do you think of a new photo every day? I only really have time for 2 or 3 long posts a day, but some new photo each day would be nice. Of course the photo would be of David! Thoughts?

2) How is acid rain caused?

3) What else can I do to get you guys to leave more comments? Heather and I love them, and constantly check back to see if there are any comments left. Literally, ALL THE TIME. Sad, but true.

4) What sort of things would you like to see?

5) Why is every Reader's Digest headline seem to be negative and fear-provoking? (latest issue is something like "Mis-Diagnosed! Don't Let it happen to you!")


That's all. We (cough cough) look forward to your (cough) COMMENTS (cough cough).

Regards,
The needy web-poster

Sick in the head...sinuses actually

Our son, David, has had a cold for over a week. I thought of all the different ways to communicate this to you, his loyal and ever-growing fan base. I considered writing a song (been done), writing a Jules Verne-esque essay on exploring his nasal passages (hasn't been done) or taking pictures of his snot (won't be done). And then I realized...

Sometimes, words aren't necessary. And this would be one of those times.

Click the image below and enjoy.

Decoding David

Finally, after 5 weeks of round-the-clock observations, reviewing hours of video, and conferring with our parents, we have created our guide to recognizing, understanding, and acting on David's emotions. What was it like? Were the settings controlled? Procedures mapped out? Was everyone wearing 100% cotton? Well, picture this: a bunch of people in white lab coats, holding clipboards and sitting around a child. Then add a chimpanzee, a llama on a bicycle, and the Trogdor arcade game. Finish it off with a water-slide and a Chocolate Sundae, and that describes the attention span of the average middle-school student. What, David? Oh, right. Sorry...my attention span wandered a bit. Got thinking of that time at Waterslide World...

For those of you who haven't spent a lot of time around babies, babies can be tricky. They can't communicate with words, can't use sign language, and really only make a few sounds that you often have to decipher which end they came from. And then there is a baby's body language...they tend to send mixed motions. An example:

"David, your hand is in the air. Do you have a question? No, that's not it...are you pumping iron? Uh...now you're hitting yourself in the face. Are you a Red Sox fan. No, that's not it. You swallowed a bug? Having an allergic reaction to--

Oh. God bless you."

So, for those of you who want a head-start at reading our child, here's a guide to his emotions. We like to call it "The DaVidi Code." Or "ToddlePoopa Nights: The Ballad of David James." On second thought...we'll just stick with the title of the post: "Decoding David".

	FEELING: Moderate Nuisance WHEN: Whenever I have the camera WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Another post? Didn't you just do one? And you want to take how many pictures? Fine, fine, fine, let's get on with it already. Am I old enough to know what an agent is?"
	FEELING: Overtired. WHEN: Most of the time. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "zzzzz..... huh..... too.... early.... Mocha... need a Mocha... to start... the day..."
	FEELING: Moderately Offended WHEN: Anytime he is inconvenienced. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Decaffeinated Mocha? Pah-lease..."
	FEELING: Like Elvis. WHEN: Not sure, but I want it to stop as soon as possible. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Hey, baby. I'll be your baby, baby. Love me tender?"
	FEELING: Overwhelmed with song. WHEN: Only when he's outdoors, free, running up through a field on a mountainside... WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "The hills are alive...with the sound of music..."
	FEELING: Baby Nirvana WHEN: Whenever the kid poops. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Finally! I thought that would NEVER come out!"
	FEELING: A bit worried. WHEN: Most often when he can't get his hands into his mouth. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "I sense...a disturbance...in the force. I...feel a presence I have not felt in...in...at least 2 hours. Can someone change my diaper?"
	FEELING: More than a bit worried. WHEN: More often than Mommy and Daddy would like. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Baldness is genetic? Nooooooo!!!!!!"
	FEELING: Tired. WHEN: Not as often as Mommy and Daddy would like. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Boy, sleeping sure tires me out. Should I sleep for a few hours? Hm....what time is it? Midnight? Oh, power nap then. See you in 45 minutes..."
	FEELING: Ready to Sneeze WHEN: Who cares! It's THE CUTEST thing you've ever seen. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "I've got a secret. Come closer. Closer..."
	FEELING: Annoyed. Seriously Annoyed. WHEN: After like 20 pictures, wouldn't you be mad too? WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "If you put that camera in my face ONE MORE TIME...Don't make me vomit on you!"
	FEELING: Happily asleep. WHEN: After his 30-minute photo shoot. WHAT HE'S TRYING TO SAY: "Zzzzzzzzzz......llamas.....on a bicycle....tee hee hee....zzzzzzz..."

Hope you enjoyed my jump into tables. If someone can please explain to me how to get rid of that huge space between my intro and my table, drop me an e-mail. Boy is that annoying me...

One Month Old!

(sung to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas")

In his first month of life, our son gave to us:

12 daily feedings,
11 times he's peed on me,
10 daily diapers
9 ounces gained,
8 Harts a-visiting,
7 Dinners on our church,
6 Allens a-Barn-ing,
5 consecutive hours of sleep (once),
4 pediatrician visits (that works if you sing it really quickly),
3 midnight feedings (daily)
2 hours of sleep at a time.
and his first outfit that he out-grew!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, our son is ONE MONTH OLD TODAY! He is weighing in at 9 pounds 6 ounces, and has finally outgrown one of his outfits. Also fitting into the "new" category: he gave me my first smile today, he took his first hike yesterday, he threw up in my wife's hair for the first time today, he finally has a normal bellybutton, and he peed through his diaper into my wife's lap about 3 hours ago ("Typically, Rob, when I clean off the - WOAH I just got really warm!").

Also new to this month is the evolution of our 'baby-talk'. No, this isn't the fake baby-talk you see in the movies, where you can only start words with A, B, D, E, I, and W ("Awwww, wook at da wittle baby boy, Ee is doo wonderfuw! I wiwl wuv 'im and wuv 'im wo-evew!!!" ). No, the real form of baby-talk has us talking to our child, followed immediately by us voicing his response as though we are him. It's amazing, the conversations we have:

"Oh, you don't look so happy, David!"
"You wouldn't either, if you knew what was in my pants."
"Do you need a diaper change?"
"Does Daddy have enough electronics?"
"OK, David, I'm going to set you down. Here comes the fun part."
"You mean the part where I pee on you?"
"Wow, you really did leave me a present!"
"If this is your idea of a present, I'd hate you see your birthday parties."
"There, isn't that all better?"
"If you touch me with those wipes one more time..."
"NO! Don't pee on me!!! Heather!!! Guess what your son just did."

So the first month of parenthood has come and gone, and Heather and I are still in one piece. And while our son has not learned to sleep through the night, he can't sleep-walk either, so I'll call that even.

Stay tuned, because we have much more coming in the second half of the show, including special guest "I. P. Always" and music from the rock group "Everexcrement."














Feast your eyes on my new favorite picture.

Adventures in Diapering

(Excerpt from the new book based on the accounts of world-renowned mother Heather, and written, illustrated, and exaggerated by not-as-world renowned Rob.)

It seemed like it would be just another diaper change. I’d change him on the floor, use the baby wipes, put on the new diaper, and go back to what I was doing previously: one-player scrabble, a good competitive match that I was winning.

I gently placed him on the changing pad. As he began his ritual of squirming, whining, and crying, I finished closing the HAZ-MAT suit. Checking my oxygen levels, I knew I was good for a while. With my mind at ease, I began my work.

To my surprise, his diaper barely needed changing. I noticed the slightest hint of defecation, like a small oasis in the middle of a vast desert. Why can't my family members be here to watch this one, one so simple and easy as this one? Can't win them all, I thought, as I began to wipe.

Something in my mind began screaming at me. Cautiously, I surveyed my surroundings. It was quiet. Too quiet. I looked down, and saw a serene, calm son staring back at me.

It was then that the small oasis became a vast geyser, soaking everything. Pee went everywhere. I panicked…I wasn’t ready for this. I scrambled to minimize the damage, grabbing anything I could find to prevent further leakage.

And suddenly, the most deafening sound cut through the room. It sounded like a gunshot, ceasing all other noise. In a state of shock, I checked my body for the wound, but found none. There was no evidence of a bullet hole anywhere. Confused, I returned to my work…

…and noticed that the diaper was now full.

(excerpt from “Adventures in Diaper-Changing,” published by Squirmy, Whiner, and Poo International. The full book hits newsstands when my son can control his bladder)

10 Things Learned in 25 Days of David

10. Before the pregnancy, I used to ask my wife “How are you doing?” During the pregnancy, it became “Did you throw up?” Now, it’s “How much sleep did you get?” Ah…the beauties of growing up.

9. To grandparents, there’s something cute about their offspring being defecated and urinated on by a grandchild.

8. Changing a diaper is like eating a box of chocolates: you never know what you’re gonna get.

7. Everyone thinks dropping a child is a parent’s worst fear. It’s not. A parent’s worst fear is a wide-awake child at 2am.

6. Babies communicate very well. They just lack specificity.

5. My son choking and my son farting sound eerily similar. Fortunate for us, he farts a whole bunch.

4. Nursing is a misnomer. It should be called ‘Leeching.’

3. Common belief states that ‘babies are cute.’ That’s right - everything is cute…from cooing to wheezing, pooping to crawling. Yes, everything is cute…as long as it falls between 8am and 10pm EST.

2. You will never again take for granted 5 free minutes.

1. No matter the age of the infant, a romantic evening with the wife is still a wonderful thing. We look forward to one sometime in February.

Translating the Language of Babies

A True Story

My first staff development day was Tuesday of this week. Believe it or not, it wasn’t really where I wanted to be. Yes, a huge surprise – a teacher not wanting to go to staff development, why that’s as shocking as Paris Hilton getting pulled over for DUI. But believe it or not, it had nothing to do with school at all.

I just wanted to be around my wife. I really wanted to hold my son. That’s the best part of the day, by the way. Having him lay on my chest at night while I read, so that he falls asleep.

So I’m in school, at a staff development day, receiving presents from my awesome staff, getting congrats comments left and right, all of which are bringing me back to the fact that my son is not where I am, and that’s just plain inconvenient.

I get home that evening, just yearning to hold my son. At last, I have him in my arms, and my heart is oozing with joy and love. I smile at him, I talk to him, and we communicate (I use words, he uses facial twitches....we take what we can get). Here was our *actual* conversation. Actual, because I remember wanting to say this stuff to him all day.

“David. Hi buddy. I love you.”
(eyes open, staring at some point on my face)
“I want you to feel safe. Absolutely safe.”
(mouth flops open and shut, open and shut)
“I can’t wait to see you grow up.”
(face remains focused on me, arms randomly flail)
“I will do everything I can for you, I want you to know that.”
(eyes focus very specifically on some random spot in air between his face and mine)
“The future is totally open for you, and I can’t wait to help you into it.”
(body shakes all over, then goes incredibly still and relaxed, representing some form of baby nirvana)
“I love you so much, David.”
(body remains still, time pauses)

Now, that’s a funny phrase, you’re saying to yourself. “Time pauses.” Isn’t it supposed to be “Time stops?” In most cases…yes. But not here. It paused. Paused, you see, because time immediately started back up when he projectile vomited all over me. Yes, projectile. He got my bicep, registering distance of at least a foot. He got my elbow, forearm, chest, and side. He got my shirt, my shorts, the chair, a random pair of pants, and his entire outfit.

Which leads you to my conclusion. When babies coo, they are happy. When babies cry, they need something (food, attention, a diaper change, or just a good book to read). When babies are quiet, they are content. When babies sleep, they are saying “leave me alone if you know what’s good for you.”

And when babies projectile vomit, they are actually saying “I love you too.”

Labor Day Weekend

What a fantastic weekend we just had. We were visited by not one, not two, but three groups of relatives, all of whom had to brave the sign-less, road-less, bridge-less, bathroom-less drive through the Adirondacks, where the average towns are 20 miles apart, feature 2 gas stations, 3 traffic lights, and seem to exist at the ever-important meeting of two main roads. Here is the weekend overview:

My brother Jim, his wife Cath, and his children Justin (six) and Chelsea (free) came up to visit, along with my parents, who will be referred to Grampy (over 50) and Grammy (29). They all stayed in "The Barn." Only in the North Country could a part of a motel be called "The Barn." They arrived Friday, with my brother's family leaving Sunday and my parents leaving Monday.

Uncle Brian (immortal) and Aunt Sue (immortal by marriage) also came up for two days. What a terrific time we all had. Whether it was relaxing together at "The Barn" or having dinner atthe house of Sean (28) and Andrea (version 3.1 - will be 4.0 around April the doctor thinks), it was just a great time...the stuff that wonderful memories are made of. Expect more photos from this weekend in posts through the coming week.


In closing, and on the eve of the school year, I'd just like to thank, as profoundly as I can, all of the family and friends who have visited us in words, messages, phone calls, e-mails, prayers, and even in person. It has been a great couple of weeks for Heather, David, and I. You are all a tremendous blessing to us. Our thoughts, love, and prayers go out to each and every one of you, and we hope to see you all sometime soon.

Housekeeping!

Before I begin, a few housekeeping items you should know. I keep hearing about all these people who are checking out the site, and I'm both flattered, honored, and suffering from some nasty gas (performance anxiety - nervousness that performers get - comes in all forms. Makes you feel bad for the piano players who accompanied me on all those music school recitals). Anywho, here are some important things to know about the site:

• The homepage is going to show ONLY posts from the previous 7 days. Each post has a bunch of photos, and those take time to load up. Plus, when you factor in all my sarcasm, my BS, and my wit....well, we're talking about some serious bandwidth.
• For previous posts, visit the ARCHIVE. Currently, this blog archives by the month. Frankly, I think that stinks, and as soon as I can figure out the code to do it, I'll fix it. Of course, I said the same thing about that Dan Brown book, and I still don't see it. What was the riddle again? "The son of con of man?" "The con of sun?" I remember: "The con of the summer is the movie." Got it.
• Notice the left side of the page. To some, it's called the sidebar. To others, its called the bar on the side (it's a left-brain right-brain distinction). You'll notice several things: it has a blurb, a profile, and a picture, but more importantly, links to the previous posts and links to the archives. That's for you to navigate around. Feel free.
• CLICK THE PICTURES. This is a new feature that I'm trying to consistently maintain, because the blog site doesn't always get it right (that is textbook usage of a scapegoat, ladies and gentlemen). If you click the pictures, it SHOULD open a new window with a larger picture that is background-friendly. It should be a 1600x1200 picture.
• Final thing, a bit more serious. Has to do with privacy. If you don't want your photo or name on this website, PLEASE TELL ME. I can delete or edit anything. Seriously - just call me, tell me, or post a comment and I will get right on it. If I post your social security number, however, tough luck. Serves you right for giving it to me in the first place.

OK, OK!!! Back to real life! On Friday, my parents came up, along with my brother and his family. Saturday, Uncle Brian and Aunt Sue also joined us. So I'm pretty much set for the week with pictures! Here are pictures of just my parents (that would be Grammy and Grampy in babyspeak, which is all my parents speak now a days). More of my brother's family, as well as SueBrian (which, if you mix the letters, can spell "Sir Anube" or "Are in Bus") coming over the next day or two!

Less-Serious End-Of-Week II

That's right, folks. Due to a lack of suggestions on what to call this Fictitious Friday, this Holy Humdinger of the week, this Playful Posting, this Gaseous Generation (sorry about that last one...Roget's Thesaurus lists 'Gas' as a synonym for 'Funny', and 'Generation' as a synonym for 'Day'...how about 'Crap' as a synonym for 'your thesaurus website'), we are having our Less-Serious End-Of-Week post. Today's post....

"Inspired Monologues..."

"This is so boring. All I do is eat and sleep. Eat and sleep. Seriously. Being a baby is so lame. The highlight of my day is trying to pee on my parents. What kind of creature can make that sad claim? That's it. I'm staging a protest. No more eating and sleeping until I get do so something new. Something fun...some...thing..."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

"...Huh? Crap. I fell asleep AGAIN. Yeah, you just wait until I can crawl around..."

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"You'd scream too if you looked like this guy."

"All I want to do is play Scrabble!!!"

"My daddy thinks I'm a prop. I swear, I'm going to develop a COMPLEX from the flash of his camera. PUT ME DOWN, YOU BAFFOON!!! Just wait until you change me..."

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"(villanous laugh) Muah ha ha ha!!! I have these pathetic humans right where I want them! As they continue to 'oooh' and 'aaah' over me, I'm slowly bringing my plans to fruition! They make stupid faces at me, I make plans of their untimely demise!!! The idiots actually think I SLEEP at night. Little do they know the people who I have been communicating with, the resources we have pulled together, the way we are slowly bringing their doom upon them. It is I who keeps leaving the milk out! It is I who leaves the toilet seat up! The seeds of discourse are growing...and when the right time comes, they will they have a surprise waiting for them! The planet will be mine! And next, the universe! Muah ha ha ha!!! You just wait until the lights go out!!! Muah ha ha ha ha!!!"

-CLICK-

"Wha-? Blast him and that camera! Oh no, the plans...does he know? Quick, look cute!"

-CLICK-

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