Londo's Diary, 25 January 2008.
Day Two of Project: PumpkinWatch (TM)
Day Two began when I arrived at Grandma's House to pick up the baby. This is my wheelhouse. I have done this from the beginning and I am squarely in the comfort zone. I sashay (Londo is secure enough in his manhood to sashay around once in a while) in the door and peek around the corner to see if she is looking. [Aside: Now, normally in this situation, I catch the Pumpkin's eye and she gives me the sweetest smile you can imagine. On a good day, she will giggle.] She is in the arms of the babysitter--whom she loves--and is looking happy. But this time, she doesn't leap, literally, into my arms. Instead, she hugs the babysitter and mutters.
I take her anyway (I'm the boss in this relationship, aren't I? -- I'm clearly not, I know). She doesn't make a fuss, but I swear she is muttering, "mamamamamama."
We get home and she plays, and everything is going pretty well. She is a little fussy, but nothing major. I put her to bed around 8:00 and she slept through the night again, waking at 6:00. I honestly think she is just cutting her old man some slack. (Thanks kiddo.)
Project: PumpkinWatch (TM) has been a near-complete success so far. We have experienced 0.5% casualties (there was a small matter of temporary mashing of fingers [juvenile], and one banged head [adult] but it was resolved in an expeditious manner). We are nearing the end of the project and must now begin immediate prep work for Project: Cleanup For Mommy (TM).
Cheers,
Londo
XXX
Showing posts with label daddy's take. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daddy's take. Show all posts
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Daddy's Take: Day 1
Londo's Diary, 23 January, 2008.
Taking care of the pumpkin by myself has started off well. Mostly.
There was 1 incident of significance that made me wish I had 10 arms and the ability to multitask like a chess computer.
I was cooking dinner for me and the Pumpkin (rotini, sauce, bread, little puffed wheat thingies) when about 14 things happened at once. The pumpkin was on the floor, playing with her toys. The dog was in the floor, waiting for food to fall. I will try to give you the exact order in which it happened:
1. Londo in apron (hey sauce splatters and I like this shirt) is merrily stirring a pot of pasta and another pot of sauce.
2. dog gets up and sits next to back door - this is the universal sign of, "let me out or I will pee on something in here!"
3. Pasta begins to boil to the top of the pot.
4. Timer goes off, letting me know pasta is ready (breep-breep-breep, etc.)
5. Toaster oven dings, letting Londo know that bread is ready and will be burned to a crisp in exactly 10 seconds.
6. Pumpkin heads towards the cabinet where we keep the dog food (making the dog very interested indeed).
7. The phone rings.
8. Londo pauses, makes a judgment call on how to proceed, then proceeds.
9. Seeing Cara's cell on the caller ID, I grab the phone while heading for the toaster oven.
10. "Hello?"
11. A high-pitched scream, closely followed by the silence that every parent dreads, closely followed by whimpers and screams alternatively. Pumpkin had gotten her little fingers stuck in the cabinet door, and was leaning on the same door with her other hand (making things unbelievably worse).
12. Cara: "OMG, what's wrong?"
Londo: "Gottagocallyoubackinaminuteloveyoubye-click!"
13. Londo freaks.
14. I swept up the Pumpkin, and began kissing her fingers while I turned the stove-tops off and flung a towel over the timer (breep-breep-breep, muffle, muffle, breep)
15. I bang my head (really friggin hard) on the edge of another cabinet (the one over the toaster oven) as I reach into the hot device for the bread (I should have mentioned earlier, I was wearing an oven mitt on one hand, just to make this whole thing more challenging:)
16. Londo curses. This makes the Pumpkin stop crying and actually giggle at daddy (rubbing his head with an oven mitt and a piece of hot bread).
17. I put her down in her high-chair, let the dog out, push the button on the timer (breep-bre...), and sit down.
This whole experience took about 1 minute.
The rest of the night was awesome. I fed, bathed, and played with the baby and put her to bed at 7:50. She woke up at 5:50 in the morning (I usually get up, or try to, at 5:15, so this was no hardship). I showered while she played in the jumper in our bathroom, put on my suit, and dropped her off at Nana's house.
Other than that 1 minute of crisis, we had a pretty good night.
Thanks Pumpkin, sorry about the fingers.
-Londo
XXX
Taking care of the pumpkin by myself has started off well. Mostly.
There was 1 incident of significance that made me wish I had 10 arms and the ability to multitask like a chess computer.
I was cooking dinner for me and the Pumpkin (rotini, sauce, bread, little puffed wheat thingies) when about 14 things happened at once. The pumpkin was on the floor, playing with her toys. The dog was in the floor, waiting for food to fall. I will try to give you the exact order in which it happened:
1. Londo in apron (hey sauce splatters and I like this shirt) is merrily stirring a pot of pasta and another pot of sauce.
2. dog gets up and sits next to back door - this is the universal sign of, "let me out or I will pee on something in here!"
3. Pasta begins to boil to the top of the pot.
4. Timer goes off, letting me know pasta is ready (breep-breep-breep, etc.)
5. Toaster oven dings, letting Londo know that bread is ready and will be burned to a crisp in exactly 10 seconds.
6. Pumpkin heads towards the cabinet where we keep the dog food (making the dog very interested indeed).
7. The phone rings.
8. Londo pauses, makes a judgment call on how to proceed, then proceeds.
9. Seeing Cara's cell on the caller ID, I grab the phone while heading for the toaster oven.
10. "Hello?"
11. A high-pitched scream, closely followed by the silence that every parent dreads, closely followed by whimpers and screams alternatively. Pumpkin had gotten her little fingers stuck in the cabinet door, and was leaning on the same door with her other hand (making things unbelievably worse).
12. Cara: "OMG, what's wrong?"
Londo: "Gottagocallyoubackinaminuteloveyoubye-click!"
13. Londo freaks.
14. I swept up the Pumpkin, and began kissing her fingers while I turned the stove-tops off and flung a towel over the timer (breep-breep-breep, muffle, muffle, breep)
15. I bang my head (really friggin hard) on the edge of another cabinet (the one over the toaster oven) as I reach into the hot device for the bread (I should have mentioned earlier, I was wearing an oven mitt on one hand, just to make this whole thing more challenging:)
16. Londo curses. This makes the Pumpkin stop crying and actually giggle at daddy (rubbing his head with an oven mitt and a piece of hot bread).
17. I put her down in her high-chair, let the dog out, push the button on the timer (breep-bre...), and sit down.
This whole experience took about 1 minute.
The rest of the night was awesome. I fed, bathed, and played with the baby and put her to bed at 7:50. She woke up at 5:50 in the morning (I usually get up, or try to, at 5:15, so this was no hardship). I showered while she played in the jumper in our bathroom, put on my suit, and dropped her off at Nana's house.
Other than that 1 minute of crisis, we had a pretty good night.
Thanks Pumpkin, sorry about the fingers.
-Londo
XXX
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Daddy's Take: Oh Crap, Daddy's Flyin Solo
So, Cara has finally left me due to my obsession with Fantasy Football and Poker. I have to raise the Pumpkin myself.
Ok hyperbole (she likes to play poker and watch football too - score one for the good guys), but still, Cara is leaving town for a few days and it's Daddy's time to shine. I have watched the baby all day and night before. I have put her to bed when Mommy was working late, and I have taken care of her at all points in between. However, this time it's different. There is no magic-mommy safety net (patent pending) to catch the Pumpkin if she goes nuts. Mommy will be several states away, for more than 1 day! Yikes!
I will certainly make the most of the Daddy-Daughter bonding time. I picture it will be something of a cross between this...
And this...
Either way, It should be an adventure.
I will log my results in the same manner as Survivorman and if there is amusing video footage of the events, I will surely have it on youtube before Cara gets back :)
Wish me luck people, I am going in.
-Londo
XXX
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Daddy's Take: Things That Suck About Being the Grownup
I know there are a lot of other people out there just like me. You enjoyed your childhood and young adulthood and, even though you enjoy being a parent, you don't enjoy being the adult in the relationship. Here is a non-comprehensive list of things that suck about being the grownup:
1. Being the one that has to clean up the mess. Many times I wish I could simply hose off the Pumpkin (hmmm, maybe when Summer rolls back around...)
2. Being the one who has to hold the baby for her shots. I hate needles too, man, why should I have to hold my screaming infant down for this? Isn't this what I am paying the doctor/nurse for?
3. Just in general, having to be the responsible one. I want to play with the power outlets and eat things I find on the floor (well, not really, but I like to keep my entertainment options open).
4. Saying NO. Like, all the time. For example, "No Pumpkin, don't put that in your mouth" has become a fairly common utterance in my household.
5. Did I mention having to be the one to clean up the mess.
Now, there are a ton of awesome things about being the grownup. I like to drive, (sometimes); I like to watch whatever TV shows I want; and I like to spoil my appetite and eat absolute junk once in a while.
None of these things is a good trade for having to pay taxes, buy insurance, go to work, and pay the bills.
Feel free to chime in and tell me what you like or dislike about being the grownup.
-Londo
XXX
1. Being the one that has to clean up the mess. Many times I wish I could simply hose off the Pumpkin (hmmm, maybe when Summer rolls back around...)
2. Being the one who has to hold the baby for her shots. I hate needles too, man, why should I have to hold my screaming infant down for this? Isn't this what I am paying the doctor/nurse for?
3. Just in general, having to be the responsible one. I want to play with the power outlets and eat things I find on the floor (well, not really, but I like to keep my entertainment options open).
4. Saying NO. Like, all the time. For example, "No Pumpkin, don't put that in your mouth" has become a fairly common utterance in my household.
5. Did I mention having to be the one to clean up the mess.
Now, there are a ton of awesome things about being the grownup. I like to drive, (sometimes); I like to watch whatever TV shows I want; and I like to spoil my appetite and eat absolute junk once in a while.
None of these things is a good trade for having to pay taxes, buy insurance, go to work, and pay the bills.
Feel free to chime in and tell me what you like or dislike about being the grownup.
-Londo
XXX
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Daddy's Take: Home for the Holidays
So, the Holidays are upon us. Now, I need to make a disclaimer before we move on. I hate most Christmas music. I love Christmas, mind you, but the music makes me nuts. I chalk it up to having spent roughly 2 years working in the mall. (I know some of you out there are feeling my pain right now.) I worked in a couple of different clothing stores, and they each had in-store stereo systems. They each had the same collection of Christmas music. So, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, from early November (yes, that early) through mid January, I had to listen to the same 4 CDs of Christmas music. I firmly believe this is what's happening in Gitmo right now.
However I now have realized that with Pumpkin's first Christmas coming up, I have an overwhelming desire to sing her every single Holiday ditty I know! She has, if only temporarily, given me the joy of Christmas carols again (I owe you one Kiddo.)
I find myself looking forward to this Christmas more than any other I can remember. I get to wake up in my own bed, next to my lovely wife, and bring Pumpkin downstairs to open her presents. For a brief moment, I will not be a Crotchety Young Man.
It's a Christmas miracle.
- Londo
xxx
However I now have realized that with Pumpkin's first Christmas coming up, I have an overwhelming desire to sing her every single Holiday ditty I know! She has, if only temporarily, given me the joy of Christmas carols again (I owe you one Kiddo.)
I find myself looking forward to this Christmas more than any other I can remember. I get to wake up in my own bed, next to my lovely wife, and bring Pumpkin downstairs to open her presents. For a brief moment, I will not be a Crotchety Young Man.
It's a Christmas miracle.
- Londo
xxx
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Daddy's Take: Sleep Deprevation, Short Term Memory Loss, and Sleep Deprevation
So as the father of an 8-9 month old--especially as the father of the "fussiest baby in the world"(TM)--I have noticed a strange phenomenon. I have gotten accustomed to going through my days in what can only be described as a hazy fog. I have always been a morning person (I know, it's pretty disgusting). Before the baby, I would get up at 0530 and be at work by 0700, and be in a damn good mood. I would leave work around 1500 and be home and relaxing (at least I think that's what I used to do) within the hour. This is one of the better ways to avoid the DC traffic, or so I have found.
Now, my routine has shifted a bit.
After being "on duty" with the "fussiest baby in the world"(TM) until 0200, I get about 3-4 uninterrupted hours of sleep per night (on average). My alarm goes off right on schedule at 0500. I have absolutely no recollection of this on any given morning. I sometimes have a vague memory of slapping the large snooze button on the top of the clock with a satisfying *THWACK*, but this could also be a sweet, sweet dream. I fall out of bed (it's a gigantic bed) and stumble towards the bathroom so I can get ready for the day (whee).
For the next 30-45 minutes I am sure I shower/shave/get all dolled up, and get dressed. I also have no recollection of this on any given morning. I take the dog outside and do my final prep work for leaving the house.
I kiss the wifey and Pumpkin and head out for the day.
On a good day, my commute takes about an hour. In DC traffic, the good days are few and far between. For this hour+, I zone out like nobody's business. I seriously get to work sometimes and have no clue how I pulled it off.
I pour a very large cup of pretty good coffee (I love my office, we have cool little individual-cup coffee machines with tons of nifty flavors) and wake up about 15 minutes later.
I repeat this process all week long. The best way I can describe it is that it's a little bit like watching your life happen through really, really old glass. It's smoky and blurry, but you recognize everything, vaguely.
I can't remember what it was like to sleep for 8 hours a night. The baseline of restfulness you have as a footloose and fancy-free non-parent is just impossible to comprehend. The fun part for me is that I know I am not alone. I can tell another "hazy fogger" a mile away. Just the other morning I was walking through a parking garage and I watched a guy (30ish) getting out of his car. He took 2 steps, armed his alarm, then realized he had forgotten something. He went back to retrieve whatever it was then armed his alarm again. He repeated this process 3 times.
As I walked past his car, sure enough, there was an infant seat in the back and a baby on board sign in the window. Hazy fogger.
All the childless folks out there have no idea just how surrounded they are. Next time you are in traffic in the morning, look to your left, then look to your right. Chances are, one of those people is a hazy fogger.
Tune in next week when my topic will be: "Sleep Deprevation and its Effects on Short Term Memory"
-Londo
xxx
Now, my routine has shifted a bit.
After being "on duty" with the "fussiest baby in the world"(TM) until 0200, I get about 3-4 uninterrupted hours of sleep per night (on average). My alarm goes off right on schedule at 0500. I have absolutely no recollection of this on any given morning. I sometimes have a vague memory of slapping the large snooze button on the top of the clock with a satisfying *THWACK*, but this could also be a sweet, sweet dream. I fall out of bed (it's a gigantic bed) and stumble towards the bathroom so I can get ready for the day (whee).
For the next 30-45 minutes I am sure I shower/shave/get all dolled up, and get dressed. I also have no recollection of this on any given morning. I take the dog outside and do my final prep work for leaving the house.
I kiss the wifey and Pumpkin and head out for the day.
On a good day, my commute takes about an hour. In DC traffic, the good days are few and far between. For this hour+, I zone out like nobody's business. I seriously get to work sometimes and have no clue how I pulled it off.
I pour a very large cup of pretty good coffee (I love my office, we have cool little individual-cup coffee machines with tons of nifty flavors) and wake up about 15 minutes later.
I repeat this process all week long. The best way I can describe it is that it's a little bit like watching your life happen through really, really old glass. It's smoky and blurry, but you recognize everything, vaguely.
I can't remember what it was like to sleep for 8 hours a night. The baseline of restfulness you have as a footloose and fancy-free non-parent is just impossible to comprehend. The fun part for me is that I know I am not alone. I can tell another "hazy fogger" a mile away. Just the other morning I was walking through a parking garage and I watched a guy (30ish) getting out of his car. He took 2 steps, armed his alarm, then realized he had forgotten something. He went back to retrieve whatever it was then armed his alarm again. He repeated this process 3 times.
As I walked past his car, sure enough, there was an infant seat in the back and a baby on board sign in the window. Hazy fogger.
All the childless folks out there have no idea just how surrounded they are. Next time you are in traffic in the morning, look to your left, then look to your right. Chances are, one of those people is a hazy fogger.
Tune in next week when my topic will be: "Sleep Deprevation and its Effects on Short Term Memory"
-Londo
xxx
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