Babies and puppies are all about routine, and your mother and I have started forming some of our own. Every morning, I come downstairs to start cooking some oatmeal for your mother, start a load of laundry, clean out the dishwasher and then take Kili out to pee. I can do all this in about ten minutes. If it was a bad night, it then includes the ritual of making some coffee.
These days, on the weekdays between 7pm and 11pm, I am “solely” responsible for you which includes a bottle feed so that your mom has time to be an adult and you know, take a shower, order some groceries, and speak coherent sentences. (Speaking of which, during your first bottle feed, you downed 7 ounces in 15 minutes. Based on what we were reading online, we were expecting you to take in 3 ounces over 30 minutes.)
And every Saturday morning, we play Max Richter’s remix of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Saturday morning is also when your mom conducts a photo shoot with a particular theme in mind. The first was a dinosaur theme as you saw in a prior post. The second was a dad+son in flannels reading theme. The most recent one probably takes the cake…proclaiming your British heritage.
And here’s what we thought we would do if Burberry asked us to make an ad for them.
And here we go, striking a pose.
Field notes from the past couple of weeks:
- The upper back pain is REAL. I am not built for child-rearing. I am 31 and seeing an osteopath like an old man with back problems.
- Feb. 8, 2016 – you were made official in the eyes of the British government.
- Feb. 11, 2016 – your tear ducts have formed. First sighted tears!
- You’ve gotten to a stage where you’re too big for the small cloth diapers but too small for big cloth diapers. So we’re left using disposables for now. Doh.
- I don’t bother setting the alarm anymore. I know you’ll wake me by 7am.
- I occasionally pop you into the Baby Bjorn carrier for the sake of my back and when I do I feel like you’re a pilot getting into a Mechwarrior or Gundam robot (i.e., me).
- There are two ways to determine whether your kid is in the midst of a growth spurt: one is the amount he is eating and the other is living in fear of the size of the next poop to come.
- You were born with tongue tie and we got it snipped. The foremost thought that ran through my head was not the fear of a language disability or breastfeeding problems, but your future sex life. You’ll thank me one day.