Sleeping Strategies

We are still trying to figure out how to get him to sleep through the night. On many nights, he wakes up at least once between midnight and dawn. Sometimes several times. We've been using different strategies to get him to go back to sleep (e.g. feeding him, rocking him, letting him "cry it out", giving him shots of whisky) sort of randomly, which is probably just confusing him. He doesn't seem to know how to roll over and go back to sleep on his own if he wakes up. He might think that he needs our help to fall asleep, so he looks around and starts to cry and waits for one of us to come in and pick him up.

So we are trying to settle on a single strategy to use all the time. But the "crying it out" method is hard because he really gets upset and miserable, and the feeding/rocking methods involve multiple wake-up calls throughout the night. And lack of sleep is known to cause side-effects, such as acting like a whacked-out zombie and accidentally putting your car keys in the fridge.

That leaves whisky shots (Ok, no, not really). Tonight, Claire put him to bed later than usual. We'll see what that does. And maybe we'll try feeding him more right before bedtime, in case he's waking up because he's hungry. Maybe we'll try placing a small pizza in the crib with him in case he gets peckish.

The good news is, he is taking an interest in video games, particularly football. My long-term plan to make him a pale nerdy flabby kid who eschews athletics and healthy social contact is working to perfection. Unfortunately, he keeps trying to punt on first down. We'll work on that.



He always examines and/or chews on the tags on all of his toys, so Claire made him a "tag blanket" for Christmas.





I was trying to take a picture of him holding his new "Spud" Christmas stocking in front of the tree, but the little sneak kept reaching around behind him to grab at presents.

Christmas!

Thanks for the stocking, Grandma and Grandpa! But what does "Spuo" mean?



Christmas Breakfast. Orange-cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, chocolate crescent rolls, and some eggnog tea.



Toys!



The tissue paper is the best toy ever.



Practicing some standing up. New record before gravity takes over: 4 seconds.



More toys!

Santa

Santa came to the daycare center today, and each and every child got to sit on his lap to have their picture taken with the jolly ol' dude himself.



Santa: visible boredom
Spud: mild concern

I was dropping him off this morning and happened to be there when it was time for the infants to visit with Santa. So Spud is actually looking at me as I wave my arms wildly with a goofy grin on my face, in hopes that he would smile for the camera (I think Santa is actually eyeing me too, wondering if he should call security). So Spud's expression may reflect his concern over whatever the hell is wrong with his silly daddy, not the fact that he's being held by a total stranger that smells funny and apparently is foaming at the mouth. Or perhaps has partially consumed a poodle.

My question: Are Santa's white gloves to protect him from the children or the children from him?

Ice, Ice, Baby

Ice,


Ice,


Baby.


The Blizzard of ought-nine (as the old-timers will call it in the 2030's) just sideswiped us here is Charlotte. We got a few minutes of snow and a whole lot of ice, ice, baby (Apologies to that master artist of rap, Vanilla Ice. Or not.).



Claire and I snuck a movie yesterday afternoon while Spud was in daycare. Avatar. Very cool movie. We both felt guilty abandoning the baby while we did something that was not work-related. But we needed it. The semester is over and the last faculty meeting is in the books and it was time to take a fun break. Claire and I had not seen a movie together since, uh, well I'm pretty sure Clinton was in the White House at the time.

Miss Managed

Miss Missy: [looking earnest]: "Can I tell you something?"

Miss Missy is one of the teachers at Spud's daycare. All teachers in the school are apparently referred to as "Miss _________" by the (older, linguistically competent) students and apparently by the staff and maybe even each other (except, presumably, the one male teacher). I was unsure if I should use the same terminology when addressing them; the first week Spud was enrolled, I got half way through saying "Hello Miss Missy", called an audible midway through, and it came out "Hello Miss-ss-ssy". Good save.

John [always expecting it to be bad]: "What? Is it bad?"

Miss Missy: "Well, I'm quitting this job on December 23rd. So next week is my last week."

We were just getting used to Miss Missy and Miss Tonya. So now we will be leaving Spud with another TOTAL STRANGER at daycare (whoever replaces Miss Missy, presumably Miss somebody or other) and hope she does not have a criminal record as long as your arm and pray that she doesn't put Spud in the microwave the first chance she gets.

[The next day]

Claire: "Miss Missy told me that her last two paychecks bounced. That's one of the reasons she's leaving as sooner than she originally planned."

Miss Missy got married a few weeks ago, and she's heading to South Carolina with her new husband so he can start a new job. Which is sad, because South Carolina is one of the shittiest states in the nation. I feel nervous living as close to the border with South Carolina as we do, and it's a good 40 miles away. But you can hear the banjos playing all the way up here.

Spud's daycare is the highest-rated in the area. It's got five stars. Five out of five. Claire and I did the math: considering the number of students they have, they are taking in 50 large a month in that place. How is it they are bouncing checks? Hence, the amusing title of this post.

Anyway, so the concern now is that: a) they need to replace Miss Missy, and b) they have an apparent funding shortfall, so c) they will hire someone with sub-par credentials on the cheap named "Miss guided" or "Miss creant" or "Miss demeanor" who doesn't like babies at all but needs a job so she can lay low until the cops stop looking for her.

Or maybe the new Miss will be great. In that case, my Miss take.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Spud

Spud's first winter solstice is approaching, and with it some chilly arctic air. Since he is unable to communicate in English just yet and can't tell us if he's cold or not, we tend to err on the side of completely mummifying him. Believe it or not, there is an actual baby under there somewhere, preparing for a stroll.



Despite the fact that his parents are both scientists, he may be secretly questioning all of the fuss about climate change, considering it's a hell of a lot colder now than when he first got here a few months ago. "Global warming my diapered ass".



The outdoor Christmas lights are on (notice I did not say that "the lights are put up"; I leave them up all year, and just plug them in when December arrives. Laziness can be useful sometimes, like math).



The first ornament to go on our delicious-smelling pine tree is engraved with "Baby's First Christmas, 2009" (in his hands, below). Spud helped to install it on the tree and picked the perfect spot.



He was somewhat underwhelmed with the experience. He'll be a LOT more excited about the holidays in a year or two, I suspect. His baby brain may be thinking: "Let me get this straight: you people chop down a live conifer tree, drag it into the house and prop it up, and then cover it with random plastic crap and multi-hued lights, while dogs bark out 'Jingle Bells' on the radio. That's pretty weak, man."



He was also introduced to the yuletide tradition of the nog of the egg (he sniffed it) and Daddy's Santa mug, which since 1975 has only been used for eggnog and has never been sullied by any other beverage.



The finished product. With any luck, it will last until February. We like to keep the tree up until at least half of the needles have fallen off.

Would your son like to try some wine?

Spud had to visit the pediatrician every month from 0-6 months of age for various shots and other indignities, so he was relieved to hear there was no scheduled vaccination at 7 months. But then we told him last week that he had to get his influenza boosters. The good news is we got an update on his official stats:

19 lbs. 12 oz. (50-75%)
29 inches (90-95%)

He used to drain a bottle in about 15 minutes. Now it takes about 4. He can now beat up Daddy.



Cheese lady at Costco: "Would you like to try some blue cheese on a cracker?"

Claire [who inexplicably likes blue cheese, as well as other disgusting fungi]: "Mmm. Yes."

Cheese lady at Costco [eyeing large baby in Baby Bjorn, placidly chewing Baby Bjorn strap and drooling on it]: "Would your little boy like some as well?

Claire [chewing, looks at baby]: "Um, no. He doesn't have any teeth yet."

Cheese lady at Costco: [surprised, dubious]: "How old is he?"

Claire [still chewing]: "7 months."

Cheese lady at Costco: [still dubious, eyes Claire and baby with suspicion, addresses new customer]

Go Gators!

Spud is decked out in his Gator onesie and would like to remind everyone to please cheer on the defending champion and currently ranked #1 Florida Gators this afternoon as they try to chomp #2 'Bama in the SEC championship game. Spud is very excited. He blew a spit bubble and yelled "Adaaablabdaaa"! at the first mention of the word "Alabama" and he immediately spat up on himself. A lot of people have that very same reaction. If the state of Alabama were to drift away from the continent and sink into the Gulf of Mexico, the average IQ of the U.S. would immediately rise 14 points. Go Gators!





He is decked out in orange 'n blue from head to toe, including his tiny Gator socks!



In 18 years, when he is a quarterback or linebacker or wide receiver for the Gators, he'll be able to get us all tickets in the VIP seats. Yessss!