Friday, February 29, 2008

Friday, February 22, 2008

I Dig This Crazy Kid!

I want apologize to my readers for not keeping up the blog lately. I know both of you must have been disappointed. The truth is, I have been working a lot and when I get home all I want to do is hang out with my son.

Daycare is going well. I drop Max off around 6:30 in the morning on my way to work. I don’t mind driving him. We have some nice father/son conversations. Naturally, I do all of the talking. Right now it is still dark that early in the morning and I can’t tell if he is really listening. I can only hear Max jabbering in the backseat. (He is probably just mocking me.)

It is just a short drive to the daycare. We can usually make it in about 8-10 minutes. 99% of the time it is uneventful. There have been a couple of cranky mornings when Max needed a pacifier. On those mornings it didn’t take long for me to master the ability to find his pacifier and then his mouth without taking my eyes off the road and still having one hand on the wheel. I might poke him in the eye or the ear, but eventually the pacifier makes it into his mouth. Then he is usually quiet and content until I drop him off.

We did have kind of an exciting morning before daycare this past Wednesday.

It was about 5:30 am and I awoke to the sound of my son screaming and crying. I mean, red faced, losing his breath, tears streaming down his cheeks crying. I hadn’t heard him squall like that since Shannon clipped his finger while trimming his little nails. (That is a whole other story…he was sobbing, Shannon was sobbing…) Max doesn’t usually get upset like that so I hurried into his room to see what was wrong.

“What is the matter?” I said through bloodshot, sleepy eyes. “I don’t know,” said Shannon, “he has a clean diaper, he slept good. I think he is hungry but he won’t eat and I really need to feed him or pump.” I went in the kitchen to warm a bottle for Max so Shannon could “relieve some pressure”. (I don’t know what PSI her chest gets to, but I bet it is pretty high.)

So I am sitting in the chair holding my crying son. His eyes are red and his cheeks are wet from tears. I put the bottle in his mouth and his wailing softens to a sob. After about 20 seconds I hear a rumble in his little tummy. Just then he lets go with a phttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt in his diaper. I could feel the fabric pouch filling against my forearm. It was like the Old Faithful geyser. Within seconds a little odor wafted up to my nose. “Peww!” I said. “Buddy, you stink” . He stopped eating and a big smile came over his face. He was happy for the rest of the day.

If only life were always that simple.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Max Goes to Daycare

We reached a bittersweet milestone this week at our house. Max went to his first day of daycare.

The day started out like any other. Shannon was feeding our son in his bedroom while I walked the dogs and got ready for work. When Max was done eating, Shannon changed his diaper and got him dressed for his new “school”. He was wearing soft, terry cloth jammies with feet in them. They were red and tan striped with a fuzzy teddy bear patch on the front. It sure would be nice if we could all wear stuff like that to work and school. I bet people would be a lot happier.

When Max and I were both dressed for our day we began packing the supplies he would need at daycare. There were diapers, bottles, baby wipes, diaper cream and a couple changes of clothes (in case they go to a nice restaurant for lunch I guess). I began to wonder how long he would be at this daycare. We loaded the items in a bag and put our darling son into his car seat. Max was in a pretty good mood. If I were a weather man I would say he was mostly sleepy and partly happy. He would likely turn happier as the day went on. As always, there is a good chance of precipitation. Shannon and Max got in her car. Because I was on my way to work, I followed in mine.

Daycare is not what it used to be. Gone are the days of the sweet little old neighbor lady who would keep kids in her home for a few dollars. Now there are rules and regulations. Forms and procedures. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful that they are so careful. You don’t want just anyone to have access to your children. It just feels strange to have to punch codes and keypads to drop your son off at daycare. So, as we were standing at the front door punching in the access code to open it, I expected to see Max’s grandmothers hiding in the bushes ready to “spring him” once the coast was clear. (Neither Alice or Ginny were too fond of putting the little man in daycare) I could just picture them in camouflage, faces blacked out like a couple of Navy SEALs.

By the time we finished dropping off the paperwork, learning the drop off/pick up procedure and talking to Max’s “teacher” Nancy, the poor little guy was almost asleep again. Shannon and I didn’t really want to leave. We just kind of stood there looking down at our cute little baby boy. I was thinking to myself, “I wish I would win the lottery so I could just stay home and hang out with Max”. After what seemed like a half hour (it was really about a minute) we left our son in the capable hands of the daycare staff. There was no crying or whining. Not even from Max.

From what I understand, he slept all morning. His Granny Alice showed up a couple hours later to “check on him” and ended up giving him his bottle. After that, I think Max slept until Shannon picked him up in the early afternoon.

All in all I would consider that a successful first day.