Monday, December 31, 2007

A Year in Review - 2007

I've been reflecting on my year... the year 2007 that is. Did much happen?

I've learned about:
  • Swaddling and my complete inability to master it
  • How, for the first three or so months of a person's life, getting up at midnight, 3am and 5am oddly becomes expected. However, despite what anyone says, it's never pleasant. You adjust, you adapt... you gain more and more appreciation for your wife who takes all this in stride.
  • How, when in pre-natal classes and the teacher informs you that you will at some point have a urge to shake your baby and you think that seems harsh, you understand with full clarity at 4am
  • The first time your baby grips your finger, it's the coolest thing
  • You're often tired and can't remember not being tired... and this is with your wife doing yeoman's work during weekdays so you can sleep and be somewhat alert for work
  • Babies come with stuff, lots of stuff... you go somewhere, you've got a lot of stuff to bring/carry
  • My job is to carry stuff
  • Thinking of yourself as a parent takes a while... it's fun to say in the abstract but it takes a really long time to really think of yourself as one.

This was going to be a lot longer post but it took me roughly 2 months. I'm working on doing this better... blogs and parenting!

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

The first Zachary Christmas

The first Christmas. I've been told a lot that the first Christmas with your child is cherishable beyond belief. Well, aside from family craziness, the little Z's first Christmas was very enjoyable indeed. He got rather spoiled from various sources, but not overboard... we were careful about that. I've seen kids with tons of toys and all manner of things. We want Zach to value his toys and possessions, not to just throw toys at him to keep him occupied. I'm amazed at the abilities of some toys today... wheels that will teach him the alphabet, balls that will teach colours, little houses that teach 20 different actions in 4 different languages. It'll be interesting to see how these types of toys affect this generation.

But I digress...

I think the most humbling moment for me, as a parent, was when I was wrapping gifts the other day and when it came to "To" I'd put Zach, or some cute moniker, and then I got to the "From" and wrote down "Daddy"... and it struck me that it was the first time I'd done that in the "from" area. Gotta admit, that was pretty cool.

Our little friend is only 4.5 months old for his first Christmas. This has a couple of bonuses.

First, we don't need to wait until he's asleep to wrap gifts. Second, he doesn't really care what he gets. I was told often, and it's quite true, he'll be quite content with tissue paper or a box. As true as that might be, how many parents, new or otherwise want to be the parent that only gets their kid a tissue or a box for Christmas?

Many a picture was taken... he got to be with both sets of grandparents who absolutely delighted in shopping for him and being with him on his first Christmas. Stories will be written of the first Christmas and we'll tease him about how he was sooooo cute in all his "Baby's first Christmas" clothes, hats, and bibs.

He had a good day... by which I mean in a generally good mood all day long. Enjoyed his book that made a crinkle sound and the teething (4 at once at current count) didn't distress him too much. Him having a good day made our day great.

The first of many Christmas's to come... the insanity of family gatherings, the wonder in a child's eye. Hark the herald indeed.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Be Cool

At the time, I didn't remember being part of the 'cool' crowd. Back in high school or junior high that is... The high school I went to, the cool kids were the money kids. The affluent, the 'already-got-a-car', the expensive clothes and all that. At the time, it seemed that being cool was the only driving force in life for most. I was never particularly impressed or losing sleep that I wasn't in that crowd. Looking back now, it seems so obvious that people were crying out for validation, for acceptance, for people to be interested in them.

I remember my junior high and high school days relatively fondly. I wasn't 'popular' as I remember it... although when I think about it, I had really good friends, I was known in the school for various activities, my teachers (well, most of them) liked me. I learned early on that I had a knack for saying something in such a way that would either make someone laugh or at least smile. Did I desperately want to be accepted? Yeah, probably. Did I grow out of it? Well, I do prefer that people like me than not like me. It just seems more obvious now when people are vainly trying to get validated. Take your MySpace, Bebo, even Facebook. People trying to get validation in a high-school mentality. I think that's why a growing population of people over the age of 30 are engaging more in the social networking stuff. They're trying to get people to like them all over again. MySpace, Facebook... same thing. Get people to be your 'friend', rate your friends' "hotness" level, throw a sheep at someone, list your favourite tv characters and hey, I like them too, let's be best friends!

Don't get me wrong, I like social networking, it's changing the culture in such a rapid fashion and replacing technology at an amazing rate. I have a Facebook page, I think it's fun. Do I engage in all the little things that people do? No. I poke from time to time, I buy 'friends' as 'pets', I play Scrabulous. I had a MySpace page for a while which is even more high-school than the others.

The point is... you spend so much of your youth and childhood feeling pressure to feel that people should like you, that you need constant affection and if you aren't getting that validation that you're a loveable person, then there must be something wrong with you. True esteem comes from within... you can't get it from another person. Not through compliments, not through how much money you've got or how many friends you have, not through sex. You do the best you feel humanely are able to and believe in yourself. That's where the real validation comes from, when you look at yourself in the mirror and say "you know what? I treat people with respect, I like myself, people seem to enjoy my company".

I'd hate to be a teenager again. How will I manage Smidget and any siblings he may or may not have down the road? Just encourage him to be decent to people, to rise above anything that he's not comfortable with, and to like himself. If he's anything then like he is now, he's awfully cute. As long as he remembers that with some humility, all will be good.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Calm before the storm?

Ok, I'm getting seriously behind in my blogging habits and I apologise. Lots been going on lately, mostly at work. However, I don't want to become an illustration of "Cats in the Cradle" so I need to get a better handle on work items so that I'm around more.

Over the summer... actually, right around the time Zach was born, I was succesful in a job competition. In the federal government each job (in theory) is competed for. Sometimes this is good, sometimes it is a royal pain. A job competition (stop me if you've heard it before) involves several steps of evaluation like a written exam, an interview, perhaps another kind of test, reference checks etc... it takes forever. In this case, it took exactly 12 months and 5 days from when the deadline for applications was. Anyway, long story short, I won one of the 5 positions. Coincidentally, I also got a new director at the same time... he started while I was off for a couple of weeks when Zach was born. He has a different approach and pace than I was accustomed to and also came from outside our department. So, getting used to him and a new level has taken some getting used to. Feels like I've always got tons of work to do, no staff to do it, and everything is due yesterday.

This has caused me to be later than previous at getting home... tired when I am there... all time that I could be doing the daddy-thing instead of just weekends (when I'm tired from work as well).

Our little buddy has been remarkably good lately... particularly at the sleeping thing. Most of the last week, with a couple of exceptions, he's slept from 8pm until at least 5am... once until 7am... and yes, we did go in to make sure he was still breathing. He's incredibly alert much of the time and holds his neck up better now... so much so that he's now making use of the Bumbo that was purchased for him. And yes, the feature that gets most commented on is the hair... it sticks straight up and he's got a lot of it. People ask if we've given him a haircut yet but, sadly, no. It's widely entertaining as it'll stick straight up, about 10 minutes after it's washed.
As I said, he's been really good lately, which now makes me a bit nervous... is this the calm before the storm? Are we about to face some horrible stretch of devil child? We've been lucky in that he's healthy, happy, plays with things... sits up in the aforementioned chair...
Now, if he could help daddy with the mountain of snow Ottawa just got hit with in the last few days, I might start reducing those groundings we gave him for waking us up frequently...

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Schmoochie smiles

I'm starting to realise that, with this little buddy of ours, that we've got it pretty good as far as babies go. I mean, he still gets up at an early hour, spits up on us periodically, and frankly the diapers ain't a picnic... but still, he hasn't (touch something wooden) gotten sick, he doesn't wail embarrassingly in a public place, we take him places and he's pretty well behaved. I see other babies that just seem to be absolute hell to deal with or their parents don't seem to get a minute's peace. So, for years from now when he's reading the odd ramblings of his old man, thanks Z.

I'm not particularly church-going but consider myself a spiritual person. However, I'm not opposed to attending church from time-to-time. By and large, the people there are very very nice and kind, and by nice twist of fate, the same minister that married us at a united church in another part of town has taken a position at the united church nearest to where we now live. She (yes, she) is a very sweet person and church very attend-able for me. I find myself listening and understanding her sermons as she makes them very 'real' for me (well, probably not just for me but you know what I mean). It was therefore a big honour, and nice continuance of the life journey, that Elizabeth (the minister) also baptized Zach. Years from now, Zach might ask why he was baptized and at this point, I don't know if I have a really clear answer for him. The formal explanation is that it begins his relationship with God and is welcomed into the community. For me, one's relationship with God or a higher power, is personal and each must discover their own journey and path. If Zach wants to have a relationship with the church or be part of the church community, I'll support him fully. If he chooses to express 'faith' in his own way, I support that too. If he chooses to have no relationship at all, again, I'm with him completely.

At 3.5 months, and a humourously full head of hair, Zach looks older than he is. Of course, the strong possibility that he's a prodigy still remains. He's got funny little grins (funnier still as they're toothless) and he's started making extended sounds (other than from his hind end) which we engage in chat with him. Several days in the past week, he's slept a few more hours and he maintains his busy schedule.

One day though, and it probably won't be long, he'll want to know and will ask "Dad, what's the point of Diet and Caffeine-free cola?? Isn't that just a waste of time?"

He's got a good point.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

That's what Friends are For

One cannot get through life without a close friend. The term 'best' friend, to me, is the one that has both been there in longevity and significance. I often wonder what Zachary's friends will be like and if he'll be fortunate to get a friend that will face battles with him, share advice, make sure he has fun but protects him as well. That person, male or female, that he can turn to when he can't (or won't) turn to me.

I've been very lucky in the friends that I have and have had throughout my life. Grey's Anatomy coined a term, your best friend is your 'person'. My person I've known for 21 years now (which hardly seems possible... that would make me old). We got into many adventures in high school and I credit him with bringing me out of my shy shell and confront the adventures of life head-on. We went to the same university together, although this is where we started to define our own lives a bit more separately. It also took some adjusting on my part, not being as outgoing, to try and fit in on my own. Friendships evolve, grow with situations, ebb and flow like the tides... the strong one's endure. I've had friends that, when something traumatic happened or life changing, disapeared. I don't see them anymore. But your person is always there.


Perhaps not on daily basis like you were with friends in high school... but with your person, you know that even if days, weeks, months go by... they're always there. The sign of a solid friendship is that they occupy that part of you that you can access anytime you need to, even if you don't actually talk to them.

My parents never 'screened' my friends nor told me who I should hang out with. How did they embed in me the ability to find good friends? Just lucky I guess.



Friday, October 26, 2007

Red rover

I missed the first roll-over.

I mean, it's not my fault... I had to go to work... this whole management thing takes up a disturbing amount of time. But I hadn't been gone more than 15 minutes or so when I got the call that our little buddy had rolled himself over. Not once. Not twice... not even three times... but 4.

Sadly there's no video of this... yet... but hopefully he'll replicate the feat soon. As I understand it, this is a significant milestone. I'm thinking I should start checking driving schools, maybe some pre-admissions at university... people keep telling me time flies by so quickly... can't get on that stuff soon enough.

What comes next after the roll? Dancing perhaps... Perhaps soon to get the old man a drink?

This week also featured the little doodlebug's first outing to Gatineau Park and the Fall colours... I'm sure he was quite enraptured with the incredible scenery as it lulled him quickly to sleep. There's one lookout that was really spectacular and we sat out there, looking towards the west and the sunset... very very peaceful. It was great perspective... just us, looking out over the undisturbed landscape. I hope we go there often, perhaps occasionally just the two of us, to pause and reflect on whatever's happening in our lives and talk about it.

Right, well, I'm on the 5am shift... I wonder... sleeping through the night seems like such a distant dream.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly

I'm not sure if it's a parable, nursery rhyme, kids song or just something I've repressed from being in school in the 70's... but it went something like this. "There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don't know why she swallowed that fly. Perhaps she'll die".

I'm now paranoid of this happening to little Smidget.

On the weekends, I get in the rotation of getting up in the middle of the night to tend to Smidget's needs... he generally gets up at 2:30am... roughly 90 minutes of feeding and small talk and then back to bed... and then he's up again around 5:30-6:00a. My wife, heroine that she is, does these middle-of-the-night duties during the week so that I'm somewhat rested for work. However, on the weekend, I'm in there... and we take turns. If I do the 2:30a the first night, I'll do the 5:30a the next night/morning.

Yeah yeah, I'm getting back to the fly thing.

So today, I was up at 5:40a with Smidget. He ate, we chatted, we reviewed the episode of the West Wing that we typically watch while eating. He dozes off and I try to do a few things... those of you that know me know that 6:30am Steve is a challenge in terms of functioning. This morning, while he was dozing in the bouncy chair (see earlier post), a fly kept landing on his head, face, nose etc.. and I would try to shoo it away without disturbing him. It occurred to me... what if this fly flew into his open mouth while I was downstairs putting in laundry or if I was in the bathroom? What if this was while he was sleeping and a fly just flew into the mouth??

The person that wrote that song seemed oddly detached and introspective. Sorta like 'gee, a fly, death could be pending'. I can't be so detached.

On a hike in Gatineau Park today I casually mentioned this to a friend. They didn't seem overly concerned... in fact, I think the quote was 'ah well, good protein'.

I'd bet the average fly is about the size of his little windpipe right now.

I wonder if I can set the video baby monitor (which also makes a sound if there's movement) to detect a fly?

Thursday, October 4, 2007

One day he'll have to deal with love

One day... hopefully many many years from now... little smidget (I guess I shouldn't call him that when he's 16) will start getting interested in sex and love. One day he will fall in love. Some time after that, he'll fall in love again... and perhaps again and again. Perhaps one day he'll come to me in anguish to try and figure out why he keeps getting hurt by the opposite (or same, I'm not going to judge) sex. For the purposes of these stories, I'll use male/female relationships.

How will I explain to him that he might fall in love several times before he finds the right person at the right time and in the right circumstances. Notice I didn't say 'the one'. The 'one' is the person that meets those three criteria at once. It may or may not be the first person you fall in love with. If it happens for him as it did for me, the first person he falls in love with might not end up being 'the one'. It could be wonderful and feel like it's the perfect thing but circumstances might not work out. A good friend of mine once wisely said that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or the rest of your life.

I had the misfortune (or fortune) to arrive at the wrong time of life for three women. My first love, a long-distance relationship that for many months felt like it was the one I'd always been looking for. There was intensity, magical feelings and that certainty of it being right that loves brings. Sadly, while she could sustain those types of feelings for a time, it wasn't the right time in her life for such a relationship and it ended very badly, since when you're not in that place... it's a difficult thing to communicate, especially for a young person, and miscommunication abound. It took us a couple of years of not talking, a couple more years of uncertain long-distance wondering, and a few years of sporadic communication before we could finally reach a peaceful level where we can appreciate what we had and allow ourselves to be enriched by it.

Sadly, this was not the first time this would happen... and this is where I'll have to figure out how to advise my stellar son how to deal when another situation similar to the first crops up. Another situation came up... this time I was a bit older but the relationship was with someone (like the first) at the age of 22. I learned, the hard way, that this is a very bad time to get involved with someone if you're thinking long-term. Women are changing at this age and often don't know what they want. Men are often too dense or driven by other things to realize this.


So love abounded again and was phenomenal for a time but again, the circumstances caught up and this was another 'season' relationship. Could've been right, but the time in life wasn't. More complicated this time... an even worse break-up and caused a stress disorder. I'll hopefully never have to relay these types of consequences to him when he reads these engaging stories but it's important all the same to know that even though it could feel like love, love going bad is equally bad as the love was good.

It happened again... another 'season', this time a bit shorter (oddly, still in the 22-23yr range) but the 'L' word came into play before things went downhill with someone else who didn't know what she wanted.

The bright side, and this is the bright spark that you give to someone who's gone through the trials of love... when you find the right person, at the right time of life, and with the right circumstances... it makes life truly worth living. For then, you see, you create a real 'life' and solid unshakeable love.

Then you start to worry about how you'll guide your offspring through the truly horrible exeriences they'll go through before they find that great combo. But are those experiences, in the end, really horrible. Sure they are... but they're also part of the fabric of your life, that make you who you are. Each experience with love, and loss, eventually make you better equipped to be 'real' with your perfect person.

Now, the sex question... hmm... I hope his first experience doesn't involve the advance billing that I got of "our first time will be horrible, but then it gets better".

Or maybe he'll just get a dog.

Ubu the Wonder Dog

It recently dawned on me that my last post may have left people with the impression that I was about to commit some heinous felony or snap and go on some sort of banshee rampage.

All is fine now.

That was a pretty rough weekend and then oddly enough, starting on the Monday, a pattern emerged which involved at least 5 hours consecutive sleep from 8:30-2:00am'ish. This continued more or less for the past week. Now, how long little munchkin sleeps after that is still random... maybe 2 or 3 more hours, it all depends.

This post is largely to give kudos to my staggeringly wonderful dog. We weren't sure how she'd handle a new addition in this house, having defined the space as 'you serve me' quite well. I knew she'd be good with a baby... I mean, she's a lab and all.. but I've seen her with babies before and she has a natural, gentle instinct for them. She's been extremely supportive and un-demanding when it's clear the baby needs attention. Of course, she could be doing this to invoke guilt... and it often results in that, but we appreciate it all the same.


Yesterday early morning (oh, say 3am) little Z started to stir. He's got the occasional habit of making a few noises but then goes right back to sleep. So my wife waits a minute and listens to determine if he's really awake or just stirring. I guess he was stirring sufficiently that Ubu got up from her bed, walked over to Julie's side of the bed, and shakes her hed so that her ears flap. This technique, often used to let us know it was time to attend to her needs (mostly food) wakes us up. Julie got up and went to Zach's room... Ubu watched her go, and then turned and settled back into bed. It was absolutely hilarious... or at least I picture it being hilarious, I was dead asleep.

Most of the time, she finds him mildly interesting but still continues on her business. She's cooperative during joint walks and gives him a little lick now and again. This, I believe, is also good... how else is he going to build up immunities and avoid allergies unless exposed to various elements?

Kudos to the Ubu... she's a good big sister.

Sunday, September 23, 2007

3:43am - At Wits End

I've heard the phrase 'at wits end' several times. While I've been stressed at many time in my life, I never knew exactly what it meant... or, rather, when it happens. The answer, I've discovered, is 3:43am.

Our little buddy has been in a mood this weekend. He also seems to have taken a conscious dislike to his provided sleeping accommodations. While we're still engaged in the battle of wills in terms of schedules, last night I put him down around 10:15pm and I went to bed about an hour later. At 1:30, the wailing began. It being the weekend and wanting my lovely wife to get as much sleep as possible, I got up to tend to smidget's needs. Optimistically, I thought we'd feed, I'd watch a recorded episode of The West Wing, and perhaps within an hour I'd be blissfully back in bed.

Not so.

After an hour, and Little Z slumbering in my arm (which had fallen asleep quite some time earlier) I figured the time was ripe and up we went. As gently as I could, I lowered him into his crib. As soon as his head touched the mattress and I let go, he went from 0 to 100 in a split second. No amount of consoling or musical mobiles would settle him... Until, grumbling, I bring him back downstairs, put the bottle in his mouth, and he promptly falls asleep.

This went on, as a groundhog-day cycle, for 2.5hours. At 3:43am, after striving to calm our troubled little hero by rocking in the chair... I recalled the teacher of our pre-natal class saying "at times, you will feel an uncontrollable urge to shake your baby". I remember thinking at the time "well gee, that seems harsh". I now know that feeling. Now don't get me wrong, I love this little bundle of wails more than anything... but at 3:43am when he's clearly trying to piss me off, that urge passes through you.

15 minutes later, my wife came to rescue me.
Fortunately, by this point, she'd had 5 or 6 hours of much-needed sleep. She found me, at 4:03am, 20 minutes into wits end.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Rock-a-bye what?

After yet another late night on daddy-watch, I've become acutely aware that I don't know the words to any soft songs or lullabyes. Little Z will wail away and then at times turn his head slightly to say "ok, whaddya got?" and usually what comes to mind is whatever the last tv commercial jingle was on. My latest go-to song as well has been the theme from Cheers.

I likely know the first verse of a few songs... like this 'rockabye baby' little diddy. So, I just google'd it and apparently there's just 4 lines, which can't be too hard. However, have you ever actually read or listened to the words?? You're humming right along, wind blowing, cradle rocking etc etc... and then suddenly something called a 'bough' is breaking and cradles are falling everywhere! "Down will come baby, cradle and all"???? What the hell?? This is a soothing song for a child? I could imagine, when Zachary understands words, that if I said that, he'd look at me in extreme alarm and then be afraid to sleep in his crib.

I have a vague memory from my own childhood of some nursery rhyme which seemed benign at the time but now frightens the living piss out of me. The 'now I lay me down to sleep...' one. Again, another of these 4-line jobs which starts out nice "I pray the lord to my soul to keep" and then jumps right to "If I should die before I wake..." Isn't that nice and comforting? Yup, I definitely want to get right to sleep now!

All of this leaves me, so far, with very little fodder to entertain my little guy with without scaring the bejeesus out of him or me. He's not quite interactive yet, makes eye contact more now but that's about it so actual words aren't a big issue for understanding yet. I've made up lyrics to a few things now, mostly turns on the phrase "I don't know the words but please be quiet".

So for now... you wanna go where people know, people are all the same, you wanna go where everybody knows your name...

Monday, September 10, 2007

Chaos Theory

I'll freely admit it... any complaints I make about lack of sleep does not compare to what my wife is going through. While I could, if I wanted to, complain about how fussy little Z is when I'm watching him, or that he won't settle, or keeps me up late... I'm not the one who is with him at 4am or 6am or on a weekday, anything involving "a.m". This is why I try to keep my mouth shut (which I haven't perfected) at whatever resultant mood or behaviour stems from his activities during the day may bring.

The learn-as-you-go reactionary approach is fun at times... really perplexing at others. For example, my little guy had a 'hygenic male procedure' last week as it seems the right thing to do these days. He was given something called Tempra beforehand to dull any pain. Afterwards, we were told to give him some every 4-6 hours "as needed".

Here's the funny thing about saying "as needed" to new parents. How the hell are we supposed to know?? When he cries, we're sorting through a multitude of things it could be from basic hunger, gas (a big one), diaper change, diaper rash, dissatisfaction with the service he's receiving.. it could be anything! He was ok the first day, but then was very fussy all-day long for the next couple. We thought it was gas and a rash. We probably should've been giving the Tempra some more. It lead to the realization of a common male axiom... If you get a knife to the bells & whistles (particularly the bell), it'll hurt for a while.

Yesterday we sampled a living example of chaos theory, otherwise known as a family dinner at the in-laws with all their grandchildren (current) involved. A month ago, my in-laws had two grandchildren... now 2 and 1. Now... they have 4 (Little Z being number 3) and number 5 will join the clan in just over a month or so. This was really my first experience with multiple small children, one of which I was responsible for. There's shrieking, yelling, things going 'bang', adults suddenly saying "No!".. and then everyone was in the door. I tip my hat to them, they're brave people hosting a family dinner where chaos is inevitable.

We also travel with more 'stuff' now in our attempts to make the little guy peaceful. Still love the bouncy chair, it's a lifesaver. I thought my Santa Fe was a decent size... a pick-up truck or cube truck seems more realistic.

I have no clue how single parents do this. I'm having trouble envisioning more than one child and managing, but apparently it's done.

When experiencing chaos, at times it's difficult to remember the positives... but then he falls asleep on you (literally) and you realize that the peaceful sounds of silence (and that he's capable of it) is the positive.. and the new goal in life.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Just when you think you've got it...

I'm learning that 'routine' these days merely rhymes with 'poutine'. To a wailing child, remembering that yesterday, we ate and went to sleep around 11:30p, wasn't even a faint memory.

A few people have told me that the first 6 weeks are hell and then it settles down. Others still establish that 18 year mark as the next time I can expect peace. I hope reality (not the one Brian Mulroney seems to be living in) is somewhere in between. The first week at home, Julie would go to sleep around 8pm and I'd mind the little smidget until midnight when she'd get up to do the next feeding. We've tried to re-inforce that with my return to work last week. This turned out to be his absolute fussiest time of the day and no amount of consoling would work for any length of time. Swinging him in his car seat was the only thing that would buy me a few minutes of peace. This is hard on the arm. We then discovered, through his weigh-in's, that he likely wasn't getting enough food so we started supplementing him with formula. Then a switch happened... I'd take over for the evening, and he'd peacefully slumber the whole time.

But as I've discovered, just when you think a routine is in place... the crafty little devil will change it up. For the past couple of nights, he's been wide-awake the whole evening again. Two days ago, I got the "your baby is crying, when are you coming home?" phone call on my cell. As soon as I got home, he was in his bouncy chair and slumbering peacefully. He stirred, started to cry, I picked him up, he fell asleep on my chest. Wife goes grumbling off to bed.

Yesterday, we took him to a doctor for 'the man procedure'. Believe me, I think it hurt me more than it hurt him. Seems better for hygiene anyway... I could comment on 'it looks cleaner' or something, but that just seems weird. I'm just glad we did this while he can't talk or won't remember.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

The Meaning of Life - Part III

Part III - After the Birth


Living in a (being generous) 10x10 hospital room isn't a fun thing to do... but even worse for Julie as she couldn't leave, or get out of bed much for the first couple of days.

The first night wasn't a lot of fun for us new parents. Here we are, in this room with this 8lb (1/2 ounce) baby that we'd been given no training for. I mean, honestly, they give you a manual the size of a toaster for, well, a toaster... but for a baby? Here's a couple of pamphlets and we'll be along to check on you. But Julie in bed, not able to move much, and me in my ever-so-comfy sleeper chair (see previous post) roughly 3 feet away from new Zachary. Any sound he made would get both of us up. Which cry is that? Does he need changed? How the hell do I do that?


Fortunately he was accomodating. As were the phenomenal nurses at the Ottawa General Hospital. I can't say enough good things about how great and supportive they all were.


I have new appreciation for my mother-in-law as well. I would do the overnight stay with Julie & Zachary and she'd arrive at around 9am to take over and let me go home to sleep for a few hours. My parents as well, thrilled beyond belief at being grandparents, would do the afternoon shift. Then I'd come back, with 'real food' for dinner instead of the hospital-provided food they brought Julie. Geez... it's like they want to keep people sick so they have something to do...

Somehow we survived though, learning to feed and swaddle... although I completely failed swaddling... no matter how many nurses tried to teach me. He'd always get free. I admit it, I'm swaddle-challenged.
When it came the day to leave the hospital, I had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, I couldn't wait to get out of that 10x10 room (including the bathroom) and into open freedom. On the other, it meant that all those helpful nurses and doctors wouldn't be a buzzer away. I couldn't believe they weren't following us out.
The first car trip and arrival home to meet his dog Ubu was entertaining. Ubu found this little creature to be mildly entertaining but, true to form, still focussed on her needs of attention, feeding and exercise.

Thus, life at home has begun for Zachary... and hopefully sleep is involved to a great extent.

Friday, August 31, 2007

The Meaning of Life Part II

Part II - Birth

Once the IV inducement was given, Oxytocin, that meant she was essentially confined to the bed area... aka no more jacuzzi for her. I was also discouraged from it. This was a bummer as we'd looked forward to insisting on and then getting a jacuzzi room.


The inducement seemed to take hold in that the tightening/contractions seemed to increase. I followed along on the monitor and watched the graphs rise and fall. After a few hours of this (and more reading of Noble House), the intensity of the contractions was reaching uncomfortable levels and Julie finally relented and asked for an epidural. The extraordinarily young looking anesthesiologist arrived and worked for some time to get in what he needed to do... after it took hold, Julie slumbered through several intense-looking (on the monitor) contractions.

A nurse would come in every 30-45 minutes to adjust the level of the oxytocin... a resident (doctor) would check in every 3 hours. I attempted to sleep on the comfort-opposed hospital chair/bed:


This is not comfortable. This is why there's physiotherapy and massage therapy.



By early the next morning, between 5-6am, still nothing had happened and Julie was now becoming very nauseous from all the drugs pumped through her system. The one unimpressive nurse was on duty during this 30 minute stretch. Unimpressive in that she reported she was on modified duty (back problem apparently) and did not seem to grasp the importance or human decency of cleaning up after a nauseous patient. However, we survived her and returned to the rest of the absolutely stellar nurses responsible for us.


By 8am, still nothing was happening.. there was an issue of the baby's heart rate taking a sudden drop and many hospital staff rushing into the room... all during the roughly 1.5 minutes I was in the bathroom. The attending doctor then told us that given that there'd been little to no progress overnight and in the last 2 days, c-section was an option. We talked it over, and agreed it would be the best thing given her fatigue, lack of food or drink.

At about 8:20am, they wheeled Julie off to the operating room and gave me my scrubs (really really comfortable by the way, I need to get some), funny hat and booties. They then instructed me to wait outside the door until they called for me. I waited in that corridor for what seemed like an hour... I was actually convinced of two things... first that they'd forgotten I was out there and went ahead and second, that I could very conceiveably be waiting outside the wrong door. However, they eventually brought me in and I was given a stool beside the head of my wife. Everything else behind a nice drape.

The scene was very much like an episode of Grey's Anatomy. There were maybe 7 or 8 people in the room, all performing various activities, 4 or 5 of whom were clustered around Julie's stomach. But in the middle of all this activity, they're chatting amongst themselves about some restaurant they recently ate at, the weather... everything under the sun. I wondered, fleetingly, who was sleeping with who.

And then he was out. Crying almost immediately but both Julie's head and I watched as he was brought to an incubator on our left to be cleaned off and checked out. It occurred to me, suddenly, that I needed to know the time. It was exactly 9:00am.

Staring at him, it was kinda surreal. I mean... there was this crying little person who, moments before, was inside another human body. And he was ours. We did that. Wow!

Julie was brought to a recovery room and the baby brought to us all swaddled up but still crying. I was told I could fetch the grandparents from the waiting room, 2 by 2 so the grandmothers were brought in first. All this time, Julie desperately wanting juice. Juice became a paramount priority.



After an hour or so... we worked out a schedule with the grandparents. Julie's mother stayed at the hospital with her... I left to go home to sleep for a few hours. My parents went back in the afternoon and I returned around 5:30pm for the overnight shift. Then our exciting 3-day stay in the maternity ward began...

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

The Meaning of Life Part 1

Part I - Prelude

I'm very pleased to report the arrival of Zachary James Frank Robertson... born here in Ottawa on Thursday August 17th, exactly 9:00am!

Now, 9am... immediately raising questions about whether or not he's really mine. However, there's enough of a resemblance so I can relax...

I tried, unsucessfully, to update this blog via email. Turned out, I had the email address slightly incorrect. So... here's the story, picking up from the last entry.

We did indeed go home following the inducement. Julie said her stomach felt tighter but didn't really think any contractions were happening. We didn't do much that night... thinking (as we had for a couple of weeks) that this was our last night of freedom. By the next morning, she reported her stomach getting pretty tight for about a minute and then it would go away. A couple minutes later, she'd report the same. I consulted the copious notes from the pre-natal class which described these symptoms as 'active labour'. Under the handy arrow drawings I did, it said to go to hospital.

We went to the hospital.

Once again at the triage station for labour/delivery, she was assessed on the monitor, eventually examined by a resident who agreed that yes, things seemed to be moving along finally so that they would admit us. Geez, the things you have to do to get into this club... We were advised to walk around the grounds for a couple of hours "to really get things moving" and then come back.

I got lunch.

I have to say... even though I grew up around hospitals (both parents nurses) and should've known what to expect, hospital food is every bit the stereotype it purports to be. This feeling would be re-inforced over the several days we were there.

Julie walked around a lot, the tightening seemed to be increasing and she was getting a lot of lower back pain. When we went back, a few minutes shy of the two hours, they got us a room... and after a bit of insistence, moved us to a room with a jacuzzi. The jacuzzi helped her back. I was discouraged from having a jacuzzi of my own. There was also much bouncing on an exercise ball, highly preferable to lying in bed. I'd brought 'Noble House' by James Clavell to read. If you've ever seen it, you know it's a sizeable novel. I got through a lot of it. After a few hours of this, not much seemed to be happening.

So they gave her a second inducement, this one via IV. Then more fun started...


Inducement (again)

Clever me, tried to use the handy "email your blog entry from wherever you are" feature... and it didn't work when I tried it from the hospital. However, I found the correct setting... apologies for the lack of updates in the past two weeks.

Here's an entry I wrote originally on August 14th...

So we've discovered that even when you go in to be 'induced', it's entirely common for nothing at all to happen. It's a bit of a letdown really... I mean, there you are, already at the hospital for a few hours... Being monitored, belted down, things beeping, the machine that goes 'ping', the whole nine yards... And then a "ok, you're free to go" Go? Go where? Aren't we where we're supposed to be?

So we head back home... "See you tomorrow" sounding odd for the occasion.

Monday, August 13, 2007

So we must coax him out...

Ok, well, Smidget is now 10 days late... and, since it's too late to change our minds, we're going to need to coax him out in the medical sense.

As our doctor told us, we could go 10 days post due-date and then we'd induce... although how that gets going is still a bit vague. We're guessing the hospital will call us at some point tomorrow (or, later today as I look at the clokc) and off we go. My work isn't expecting to see me again for a while.

This 'living each day like it's our last' feeling has been quite strange. But hey, we've seen all the movies we want to see... had a few more restaurant meals than we thought we would... it's almost too good a roll to spoil! But hey, we signed up for this parenthood thing and the sooner we get started, the sooner he can go to university and move out ;-)

So, c'mon already... time to see the world! Quick, before we get cold feet!

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Mommy's impatient

4 days late now... the long weekend, here in Ontario, went by without so much as a "I'm on my way soon" from Smidget. At least we got to do some of our short-term plans, like see a movie, swim etc...

Mommy is definitely impatient now. She's reached the "Ok, I'm done with this part, let's go" stage which oddly enough has not improved my sleep patterns. Anytime she moves now in bed, I semi-wake up and think "is this it?? Is it time??"

Myself, I was two weeks late. They won't let that happen anymore. At most, 10 days. I can say with absolute certainty that his birthday will be "early August".

What do you do during this waiting period? I feel almost like a doctor... never completely able to relax when on-call. I haven't been more than 5ft away from my phone OR line-of-sight of my wife in quite some time. I haven't seen my loveable dog (being watched by my parents in Toronto) in over two weeks... We make plans with the caveat that we can't really commit. Feels like I should be doing something... just not sure what!

I can't read any more books on fatherhood, or labour, or being the 'birth partner'.

It's kinda boring, really. I'm sure I'll be craving this period of peace soon enough...

Sunday, August 5, 2007

The waiting

Well, the due date for Smidget has come and passed.

This waiting is an odd experience. At the same time, I both am anxious for the big day to arrive and spend much time picturing it... and yet, I still want to be out and doing things! It's quite strange not really being able to make plans or commit to anything. We make tentative plans... and then I want him to hold off because I then want to do those plans! Back on the other hand, I'm eager to get this new phase of life started so I/we can figure it out and get accustomed to it so we can shape the rest of our lives around it.

So we sit, and we wait.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Butt out

I've been giving a lot of thought to the issue of smoking... which I abhor. I'm not going to get into a persons' rights or anything like that... you want to close yourself off in a room and puff away, be my guest. Where I have an issue is, of course, when this smoke hits me.


I apologise for any generalizations... but it seems that many smokers have a different set of values or rules for behaviour. I was entering a mall last week and two women were walking ahead of me, one smoking. Just before going through the door, the woman tossed her butt down and squashed it with her heel... and proceeded to enter the building as if the butt no longer existed. Apparently her magic foot made the butt completely vanish to her. What's up with that?? I also routinely see butts tossed out car windows... outside office buildings, sidewalks etc.. what's in a smokers mentality that the spent cigarette vanishes from the earth?

I'm getting more and more aware, even before Smidget arrives, of what tiny people can pick up off the ground... put in their mouths etc. The example of the woman outside the mall? Going in the entrance to Sears and the baby section.

So how do you discourage smoking? There's lots more info out there now about the dangers of smoking than when I was a kid so that should help... The health dangers are well-documented, one only need look at someone who's smoked for their whole life, sallow faces, hacking cough... spot 'em a mile away.

I wonder about the technique my dad used on me... before I was born, apparently he smoked cigarillos. I can recall a time, I was maybe 3 or 4, maybe 5... he sat me down in my room, with a little table and a BIG glass of water. He had me take a puff. It was the worst, most vile thing I'd ever tasted... that water was drained in no time. Never ever wanted to touch one again.

Hmm... I wonder if that was an anti-smoking technique or if he just wanted someone to smoke with...

Monday, July 9, 2007

Passing along Pet Peeves

In the course of my new son's life... whenever that may begin... he will undoubtedly pick up on any pet peeves I or his mother have.

How does one internalize what ticks them off? Do you pick it up from your parents? There are a few of mine but I don't exactly know why they irritate me, only that they do.

Here are some of my more notable, or at least more frequent, things in the world that irritate:


1) Bad drivers and insensitive 'mergers' - I'll admit it, I'm a talker when I drive. People going too slow, slow down for no apparent reason, speed up when I move out to pass and then slow down... and those bad mergers, you know who you are... when the two-lane road you're on will be merging into one... but you... you have to race ahead to the very end and then cut in which then slows down the whole process. Cell phone and Blackberry users... c'mon, try to remember you're driving.


2) Elevator & escalator 'bunchers' - For the elevators, especially buildings where there are multiple banks of elevators... people that stand in front of their 'bank', suddenly completely oblivious to the possibility that there are people coming in behind them... thus blocking access to the rest of the hallway and other elevators.

Escalator people are another thing... related (maybe even the same) to the elevator bunchers. Arriving at the top, or bottom, of the escalator and stopping to look around, check their watch, scratch something inappropriate, whatever... suddenly oblivious to the magical moving staircase that brought them there and completely forgetting the fact that the magic stairs might be doing the same for other people right behind you who have no-where to go but right into you. C'mon now, a little human decency!

3) Grocery carters - while it would be truly nice if they'd let one person at a time in to the grocery store to shop, it just doesn't work that way. There are many. Chances are, shopping for items in the same row. The people that, while browsing (which is totally fine), leave their cart in the middle of the aisle or otherwise block a busy laneway seem to forget that sadly, other people are there that day. Grocery carts are not what one would call nimble and agile and to try and get around...

It all comes down to respect really. So will my son pick up on my exhales of breath when encountering one of the above situations? Will he know why? Will it drive him nuts too or will he think I'm too uptight? If I figure out how to teach respect for others, will he internalise that?

Wait... does this mean I have to stop the irritated exhales of breath to try and set an example?

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

The Smidget commeth

So, I'm gonna be a dad...


My lovely wife and I are 8 months (today) pregnant and we've code named the little guy 'smidget' as that's the first word that popped into my head when I first saw the ultrasound many many months ago. We're also not giving out the short-list of names until the lad arrives... and yes, use of 'little guy' and 'lad' is intentional.



I have to say, it's quite the surreal experience so far. It seems very abstract, all these things we're doing... buying furniture, going to doctors appointments, giving up hockey tickets (ouch) etc... the pre-natal classes were interesting but long (two full Sundays at the hospital is draining), I guess that's preparation for how much time you might actually be at the hospital when the time comes!


During this whole thing, I've been wondering what kind of dad I'll be... will I have to help with math homework (maybe better to ask mom)? How the hell do you teach toilet training? Geez, it's not like I remember how I was taught... What do I tell him about girls?


It also occurs to me... none of these things will really come into play... or will start being an issue for a few years at least. I have very little experience with babies... people seem genuinely amused at me when they see a baby near me... and want to go out of their way for me to hold one just to have a good chuckle.. and tell me that I'm not holding it right.


I'm very fortunate that I've got some great role models to follow... and everyone in the past 5 months (since the news came out) has had advice to offer and seem confident that, while it'll be highly entertaining, I'll be a good dad. The kid won't get my jokes for several years (or, perhaps, never) so I'll have to find filler material in the meantime. Thank God my wife already seems to be a great mom so the little guy is in good hands until I figure out what I'm supposed to do.


So for now the furniture is set up... I initially questioned why we had to have nice, matching baby-room furniture. It's not like the baby will care or remember, or tell his friends when he can talk "Dudes, I got this wicked crib... " but now that it's in the room, my wife's taste is proven right yet again and it's a room to be proud of.


I dunno... babies though seem to be the exact opposite of everything I'm comfortable (or uncomfortable) with... such as sleep, feces, screaming & crying, change, and fine dining.


The one phrase I hear the most is "Your life as you know it will change". I'm sure that's true.. but I like my life now so the adjustment will be strange. But hey, nearly all of my friends and colleagues have one or more and we do adult stuff together... there's hope!

What Kind of Day Has it Been?

I originally posted this last week and then re-named this blog...

For many years I was a huge fan of "The West Wing" because of its compelling storylines, deep character development, snappy dialogue and how its relationships were developed. It was a crime that it ended after 7 years when it continued to have a lot of potential.

The saving grace was that NBC was bringing back the original writer/creator Aaron Sorkin and his best director, Thomas Schlamme, for a new series "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" for the 2006/07 season. Much the same as the West Wing, it had character development, interesting storylines (making of a show within a show) and spent a good amount of time developing the relationships between its characters... particularly the friendship and history of the two lead characters Matt (played by Matthew Perry) and Danny (Bradley Whitford - also the best character on WW).

I'm writing about this because they featured the Series Finale of this show last week... cancelling after one season. I'm not sure why it didn't get the ratings (or seemingly didn't)... apparently it was the most PVR'd (or TiVo in the States) show but those don't figure into the ratings of a show. I always think it's a shame when the intelligent, well-written shows get cancelled. The finale featured several scenes where you could feel the depth of friendship between Matt and Danny and cared about what happened to them.

Why must the good shows get cancelled or not supported by their networks? Did this show hit too close to home for Hollywood establishment in how it described the inner workings of an SNL-type show?

Paris Hilton gets reams of attention for god-knows-why but intelligent stuff like this gets tossed aside?

The writing of these relationships mirrors how I value my relationships... with my wife, my friends, and the values that make those bonds strong.

"What kind of day has it been?" has been the title of the first season finale of each of Aaron Sorkin's tv series (Sports Night, West Wing, Studio 60).