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March 27, 2008

Don't Eat the Baby

We had a fine day with Alden, all of us continuing to get acquainted. There was a lot of eating and sleeping, pooping and peeing. It was that kind of day and I loved every minute.

There were a few highlights.

Early afternoon, Grandpa Bob and Grandma Seiko came to deliver the mail, catching Alden in the middle of a nap.

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The mail brought a package from Robbi's Aunt Mimi.

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She opened it to find a beautiful hand-knit blanket Mimi had made for Alden--or for Tarzan, had Alden turned out to be a he. I'm assuming that Mimi's beautiful work was not completed since Monday evening.

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Alden was eager to give the new blanket a try, and promptly settled in for another nap. It's what she does. She's good at it.

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When she woke up, she wanted to come hang out with me in the big bed for a while.

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We were sitting there in bed, chatting amiably, when I heard the telltale sound of #2. I took Alden to the changing table to clean things up, but made a real botch of it. I'm new to the diaper changing game, see, and didn't realize that a new mess can be produced while the old one is being cleared up. Three diapers and 20 wipes later, I gave up, threw all of her clothes, my clothes, and the changing table cover in the laundry, shucked Alden down to nothing, and decided that the time had come for her first bath.

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Robbi, who is less prone to breaking things, took the lead. There was some scrubbing.

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And some rinsing.

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Some drying.

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Some dressing.

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And through it all, discontent. I pulled out the big guns: the oversized fleecy green swaddling thing I bought at Target the night we went to ply ourselves with baby gear.

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And still she was far from her happy place. And then, all of a sudden, the skies cleared and all was well once more.

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We had dinner down in the kitchen tonight, Robbi braving the stairs, partially motivated by the opportunity to visit with Iggy, who has spent the past few days hanging out in relative solitude on the porch.

Alden relaxed in the car seat while we ate.

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I tried to interest her in a toy, but her hands aren't really working yet. She's basically just a bundle of unfocused nerves, all instinct and impulse. I kind of admire her honesty. She cries when hungry, sleeps when tired, looks about for answers when the world throws mysteries her way.

She isn't smiling yet, but today the camera caught her in fleeting expression that kind of looked like one.

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I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that she is my child and I am her father. It may seem like no epiphany given that I have had nine months to prepare for this fact. But biology and common sense aside, it's shocking to think that I am a dad. Talk about a paradigm shift.

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I am so fond of this little creature, I kind of want to eat her up.

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But Robbi won't let me.

Posted by bogenamp at March 27, 2008 11:35 PM