Ok, this is getting weird. I suppose I'm an agnostic, with tendencies toward doubt, but something is happening with Harldur that's beginning to make me wonder if I understand much at all. This started with him on my lap a month or two back. He would fall asleep, and I'd be tired too and wanna take a nap. After securing him on my lap with pillows and bracing my arms under him and all I'd finally start to close my eyes, but the moment I nodded off, he'd rustle and wake me back up. This happened about 5 times, and I eventually gave up on sleeping. I couldn't figure out what was happening, because I sorta tested slackening my muscles, and was still conscious enough that I didn't notice any obvious drooping of an arm or anything.
I paid it no mind, but it happened again the following week. Same thing, in a slightly different position. He just would not let me slip into unconsciousness. Now I was beginning to wonder. What was he noticing? And why would he care if my muscles slackened a little anyway? This is a kid who can sleep through a raucuous family dinner at a restaurant, and napped for about half of game one of the Giants vs Braves playoffs at the ballpark. But somehow, some tiny something was setting him off in my sleepiness.
And then Dad came down to take care of him, he fell asleep sprawled across his chest, totally different position, head not supported by Dad's arms or anything, and apparently did the same thing to him! He said everytime he nodded off, Harldur fussed.
Now this is where I can't tell if I'm indulging in groggy inventions, but it's happened two times this week...when he wasn't on my lap! I put him down in the front room, and just as I was nodding off on the couch, he started crying...and today, I put him in the co-sleeper in our bedroom and lied down on the bed, and sure enough, he cried the moment I was near sleep. Of course, part of the confusion is that I don't know if I really have "just" fallen asleep. Maybe I slept for a little while, but usually the time doesn't show it as being long, if at all.
And funny thing is, he doesn't do it at night. Is it because we're both home? Is it because he's more deeply asleep at night? Is there some kind of primitive instinct surfacing that daddy needs to remain alert to guard the cave?
He also doesn't do it with Cati, but maybe that's because she puts him to sleep during naps with a nice meal, and the deliverer of his meal still resting against his face? I have no such enveloping reminder of security, I guess.
All I know is that it's got me a little unnerved, but also basking in a bit of wonder. Is there some level of perception babies know about that we forget at some point? A way to register attention of a conscious mind, when that big eye is present and listening/smelling/looking for danger? It reminds me of the Golden Compass books, where the mysterious "dust" turned out to be sort of a form of Attention.
Or is it just a dad in the heightened state of "everything my boy does is amazing" mixed with sleepiness?
Friday, December 17, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
H's new pet
So proud of H's new pet dragon. Made from chalk board contact paper... So he can write on the wall!
Fish Story
Today a little dad's group I've organized took our sprats to the California Academy of Sciences, which has recently been rebuilt to much hoopla round here. I've only been once since it was anew, and it was so crowded I saw very little. We went at the crack of dawn (11am) so as to potentially keep ahead of the crowds, and it turned out to be the right plan.
It was the first time H has been to a zoo or aquarium or anything of the sort, though when we were at Alex and Matt's over the holidays he loved their aquarium, so we had hopes.
And I can happily say that the only thing that made him really mad was that he was not able to penetrate through the glass and hold onto the fishes (and probably put them in his mouth). He was absolutely absorbed from the first moments at the penguin tank until about an hour later when he fell deep asleep on my chest amidst the humidity and soothing sounds of the rainforest dome. I think his favorite was the enormous jellyfish, which he pawed at repeatedly and made several excited shrieks and gurgles for. In general, he was most fascinated with underwater, so we stuck with the aquarium this time. He stared, and watched the fish go round and round and smiled and giggled and wow...it was a sweet experience. Cati was sad to miss out, but she also got a few hours off with her girlfriends to drink christmas beer and eat coconut pie. I've been working hard to make sure the mom's don't just see our gang as their favorite babysitting collective, but it's still nice to give mama a break.
Needless to say, we'll be headed back to the aquarium again. We may even get him a small tank at home for Christmas as long as the cats promise not to eat the fishies. We're constantly excited and surprised at how well H takes to new experiences...he loved a post-impressionist exhibit we went to awhile ago too...makes me think we need to try more stuff out...the zoo, boat rides, etc.
Man, what fun we have ahead!
It was the first time H has been to a zoo or aquarium or anything of the sort, though when we were at Alex and Matt's over the holidays he loved their aquarium, so we had hopes.
And I can happily say that the only thing that made him really mad was that he was not able to penetrate through the glass and hold onto the fishes (and probably put them in his mouth). He was absolutely absorbed from the first moments at the penguin tank until about an hour later when he fell deep asleep on my chest amidst the humidity and soothing sounds of the rainforest dome. I think his favorite was the enormous jellyfish, which he pawed at repeatedly and made several excited shrieks and gurgles for. In general, he was most fascinated with underwater, so we stuck with the aquarium this time. He stared, and watched the fish go round and round and smiled and giggled and wow...it was a sweet experience. Cati was sad to miss out, but she also got a few hours off with her girlfriends to drink christmas beer and eat coconut pie. I've been working hard to make sure the mom's don't just see our gang as their favorite babysitting collective, but it's still nice to give mama a break.
Needless to say, we'll be headed back to the aquarium again. We may even get him a small tank at home for Christmas as long as the cats promise not to eat the fishies. We're constantly excited and surprised at how well H takes to new experiences...he loved a post-impressionist exhibit we went to awhile ago too...makes me think we need to try more stuff out...the zoo, boat rides, etc.
Man, what fun we have ahead!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Cute Update
there are actually three kids in this picture!
Chillin with gram on the ole stoop
Meeting new buddy Liam
blah blah blah
I'm cute and i know it
hugging the world
munch
peek a boo!
granpa study
Monday, December 6, 2010
Numberless
How do we count these moments? Surely, somewhere someone else is jotting this all down? Look, his head is resting on my shoulder, and there's a little smile. That simply has to be entered into the record. Not to mention that wry little smile he just gave me when I was being goofy. (How does he even know what wry is yet?) How can the way he grabs the spoon with both hands and then sucks on his rice-cerealed hands with feral focus not be recorded on someone's top-ten list of things to make you happy to be alive? Can't you see my wife curled up asleep with him, blankets murkily lapping at their shoulders? Isn't everyone simply weeping at the way he conked out in the crook of my arm, burrowing his face in and whimpering groggily?
It could stun you, if you let it, how many things have accumulated. How only four months can be filled with so much. I simply don't think anyone else could stand it.
It could stun you, if you let it, how many things have accumulated. How only four months can be filled with so much. I simply don't think anyone else could stand it.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Look over here
It strikes me that much of what we do as parents is distraction. "Don't cry! Look over here! Watch this doll move back and forth!" What, exactly, are we distracting them from?
Of course, the simple answer is that a baby cry is the expression of loneliness and confusion and shock and that we are reassuring them that they are not alone, so that the last two won't matter as much. But we don't actually know for sure much of the time. No matter the cause of the cry, our job is to head it off at the pass...don't ask any questions. And nowadays, there are so many tools and info resources out there about how to do so! We have an app on our iphones that makes white noise that has become the absolute magic spell for getting H through car rides. Unlike many babies, he absolutely hates the car most of the time. Especially when we're not moving fast, or are stopping and going. The worst and wildest and sharpest cries we've ever heard from him have been in the back seat of the car. It's driven us to fights, made us turn around from destinations, and stay home when we're invited out. We'd tried everything, and then one day in Georgia Cati said "Try the white noise app." And boom, 5 minutes later he was asleep. Initially, we were flooded with joy and relief. Wow...there's nothing like that feeling when crying of that stature is averted.
Perhaps it's my melancholy cast, but I find myself mulling this over. I realize children and adults are different than infants, but don't we generally castigate "society" for being obsessed with the latest distraction from our intractable problems? Every time there's a silly new scandal, we soberly intone "This is what we've come to--while our country falls down around our ears, what we really care about is who her boyfriend is?" Or, "Teenagers are so shallow! All they want is the next pleasure, something to play with, and then they're easily bored and move on." Or "We're so consumerist, hiding from existential horror!"
On a deeper/harsher level, you could also see drug/alcohol issues in the same light. Rather than face hard truths or desperate griefs, we often swim through the blissful numbness of intoxicants.
Is this where it starts? Where impatience and fickleness and weakness in the face of terrible choices begins? After the first several months of just getting H from morning to night and back again in sane fashion, I'm starting to wonder more about how our short-term problem-solving will affect him down the line. Not in terrible, neurotic ways, as he's showered with love and healthy surroundings. But on a basic, maybe even animal way. What are his expectations going to be for the world around him? When anguish surfaces, will he know how to work through it?
I think most parents know that the person the baby shriek hurts most is them. Most of what we assume their terror or anger or sadness or fear is, is our own projection for how they must be feeling. But really, it's us that're going through those emotions. When H wakes up and he starts crying, that's how we know it's time to go to him. But what is he actually saying? "I'm alone! Why?" "Why am I not being fed?" "Where am I?" Even if we knew those to be the actual questions his cries are indicating, are those questions that really have answers? Are we lying to him by making it seem like every cry in the dark is answered?
In the end, I guess there are two things that keep me running to his bedside.
Firstly, Cati and I matter. If his cries hurt us, it's not necessarily wrong for us to salve the wound. H will thrive better with parents that aren't torn to pieces.
Secondly, the answer to all of the above questions is love. At least, it's the only answer I've ever known. When I've been awake, alone, staring up into the dark, the only thing that's ever pulled me out of the hole is love. So, in that sense, we are giving him the right lesson. It's really true. The only thing that will ever make you feel better, son, is love. The rest is...distraction.
Of course, the simple answer is that a baby cry is the expression of loneliness and confusion and shock and that we are reassuring them that they are not alone, so that the last two won't matter as much. But we don't actually know for sure much of the time. No matter the cause of the cry, our job is to head it off at the pass...don't ask any questions. And nowadays, there are so many tools and info resources out there about how to do so! We have an app on our iphones that makes white noise that has become the absolute magic spell for getting H through car rides. Unlike many babies, he absolutely hates the car most of the time. Especially when we're not moving fast, or are stopping and going. The worst and wildest and sharpest cries we've ever heard from him have been in the back seat of the car. It's driven us to fights, made us turn around from destinations, and stay home when we're invited out. We'd tried everything, and then one day in Georgia Cati said "Try the white noise app." And boom, 5 minutes later he was asleep. Initially, we were flooded with joy and relief. Wow...there's nothing like that feeling when crying of that stature is averted.
Perhaps it's my melancholy cast, but I find myself mulling this over. I realize children and adults are different than infants, but don't we generally castigate "society" for being obsessed with the latest distraction from our intractable problems? Every time there's a silly new scandal, we soberly intone "This is what we've come to--while our country falls down around our ears, what we really care about is who her boyfriend is?" Or, "Teenagers are so shallow! All they want is the next pleasure, something to play with, and then they're easily bored and move on." Or "We're so consumerist, hiding from existential horror!"
On a deeper/harsher level, you could also see drug/alcohol issues in the same light. Rather than face hard truths or desperate griefs, we often swim through the blissful numbness of intoxicants.
Is this where it starts? Where impatience and fickleness and weakness in the face of terrible choices begins? After the first several months of just getting H from morning to night and back again in sane fashion, I'm starting to wonder more about how our short-term problem-solving will affect him down the line. Not in terrible, neurotic ways, as he's showered with love and healthy surroundings. But on a basic, maybe even animal way. What are his expectations going to be for the world around him? When anguish surfaces, will he know how to work through it?
I think most parents know that the person the baby shriek hurts most is them. Most of what we assume their terror or anger or sadness or fear is, is our own projection for how they must be feeling. But really, it's us that're going through those emotions. When H wakes up and he starts crying, that's how we know it's time to go to him. But what is he actually saying? "I'm alone! Why?" "Why am I not being fed?" "Where am I?" Even if we knew those to be the actual questions his cries are indicating, are those questions that really have answers? Are we lying to him by making it seem like every cry in the dark is answered?
In the end, I guess there are two things that keep me running to his bedside.
Firstly, Cati and I matter. If his cries hurt us, it's not necessarily wrong for us to salve the wound. H will thrive better with parents that aren't torn to pieces.
Secondly, the answer to all of the above questions is love. At least, it's the only answer I've ever known. When I've been awake, alone, staring up into the dark, the only thing that's ever pulled me out of the hole is love. So, in that sense, we are giving him the right lesson. It's really true. The only thing that will ever make you feel better, son, is love. The rest is...distraction.
First solids, first love
This weekend we fell in love with rice cereal. At first, it was puppy love. We just wanted to rub on it's soft mushiness. Then we fought with it. Tumultous love! Now we've settled into a comfortable love with rice cereal, as long as that old flame boobie milk isn't around. Ah, such is the love of HC for his rice cereal.
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