My dog ate my blog posts!

It's been far too long since I last updated the blog. Unfortunately, I am without proper excuse. Sure, I could say, "I have a baby, give me a break!" Or I could say, "I was in Atlanta last week in training, and you try blogging when you're in class all day!", but that would be pretty stand-offish of me, and I really don't want to do that. I've come to realize that I couldn't keep up the break-neck pace that I originally started this blog with, as I was fueled by adrenaline, sleep deprivation and Mountain Dew.

I promise, from here on out, I'll try my best not to leave you hanging. Instead, I'll try to settle in to a more realistic updating schedule. And seriously, Abbey ate my blog posts. I had, like, dozens.

Could I really have expected less?

Although Anna and I have been taking pictures of Addie since the day she was born, today we had a session with a professional photographer in our home. This was a fantastic opportunity, as we are acquainted with the photographer, and this initial session was a gift. All seemed well at first. Addie was in a good mood, I had just changed her diaper--which I'm changing now (not well mind you, as I still get Anna to approve every change. I'm the roadkill remover to her foreman)--and she was awake and alert. Time to take some pictures!

The very first pictures we were to take we're going to involve Addie without a diaper, and in order to not show too much, we had to do some creative positioning. Remember, we had just changed her, so clearly, we were not flirting with disaster, right? Well, the first thing that Addie does when Anna puts her up to her chest (while wearing black, no less) was spit up, and then, immediately, she peed. Anna took being a human diaper in stride, and she and Addie took some great pictures. Then, Addie was handed off to me to take some daddy/daughter pictures--which I think turned out pretty well, and somehow, I avoided the consequences of a diaperless infant. Then, as soon as I gave Addie back to Anna, and--boom!--she poops down Anna's shirt.

The rest of the picture taking exercise went fine, save Addie getting a little upset toward the end. But Anna wanted me to make absolutely clear, that for some reason, Addie only used her as a toilet. We're not really sure why I didn't have target on my back for the logical end of Addie's meals, but I escaped for now. I'm sure that's not a permanent condition--but I'll take it when I can get it.

My world, turned upside down

For the last eight years of my marriage, I have slept on the right side of our bed. There has never been any dispute as to who's side of the bed is whose. Anna has always liked to sleep on the left side, and I enjoy the right. However, since Addie has arrived home, we have run into a problem. As Addie is still very young, Anna and I have been having her sleep in our room in the pack 'n' play (for those not familiar, a pack 'n' play is a portable crib/baby jail--you've probably seen one before, as a baby looks to you, the tallest individual available, for freedom). The sleeping in the pack 'n' play is not the issue--it's the positioning of the pack 'n' play (hereinafter the pnp, as I'm tired of typing pack 'n' play) in our bedroom.

In order for Anna to be as close to Addie as possible during the night (as Anna gets up with her so that I can sleep as much as possible before work), we've positioned the pnp next to her side of the bed. The problem is, this positioning of the pnp blocked our closet, making clothing retrieval a little complicated. So, yesterday, Anna proposed a solution--we switch sides of the bed, so that the pnp can be moved to where it would no longer block the closet. As a result of this bold proposition, last night--for the first time in nearly eight years--I slept on the left side of the bed. For those of you that are single, you're thinking: "so what's the big deal? I sleep on both sides all the time." While those of you who are married are thinking: "Switching sides of the bed must be grounds for institutionalization, right? Why would I switch? I mean it's my side." Married folks, I'm there with you--but I'm willing to sacrifice for the good of my wife and daughter.

But that doesn't mean that it wasn't one of the weirdest nights of sleep I've had in a while. Anna was genuinely concerned (as I occasionally sleepwalk--I locked myself out of a hotel room a couple of years ago at 2 a.m., but that's another story) that I would wake up in utter confusion as to why I would be sleeping on the left side of the bed. I didn't sleep all that well, but I consider the night a success as I didn't get up and leave the house in my sleep. I'll take waking up in my bed, albeit a little sleepy and slightly unnerved as to the left-sidedness of my bedded position, over waking up on the lawn. Until further notice, I'll continue to sleep on the left side of the bed. So, if you see me sleepwalking down the Interstate, please give me a ride--I'll thank you when I wake up.

Pictures!

Due to the high demand for pictures of Addie that we have received from family and friends, Anna has started a photo blog at http://www.thewamsteds.blogspot.com. Take a look...

Doctor, Doctor, give me the news. I've got...

...an eye infection. Not me--sorry to confuse--but Addie. Saturday night, Addie's eye starting crusting over with gunk. This is not the first eye-gunk incident that Addie has experienced. Her first couple of days in the world, Addie generated a couple of sizable eye boogers. I thought that this second bout of eye trouble was more of the same, but just to be safe, Anna called the pediatrician, and she told us that this more-prominent eye issue was more than likely a clogged tear duct which had led to an eye infection (the gunk was greenish-yellow, which according to Crayola is the color of infection). So Addie is now on antibiotic eye drops. Bummer.

Unfortunately, we had to call the on-call doctor on Saturday night, after we had just been at the doctor on Friday for Addie's two-week checkup--which was a shocking event. Get this, I met Anna at the doctor's office for Addie's two-0'clock appointment. I arrived exactly at two, and somehow, against all the laws of the Universe that I have yet to encounter when it comes to doctors, Anna and Addie were called back exactly at two--the precise time of their appointment. This was a tremendous shock to me. I imagine that the small cadre of doctors who meet at the AMA's Annual Conference to Determine Suitable Wait Times (the AMAACDSWT! Mark your calendar!) are now quaking in their collective boots, knowing that one doctor's office, against all protocol has allowed a patient to come back on time and be treated immediately. This does not bode well for the company that delivers the five-year old magazines that are placed in medical waiting rooms. How, if I don't have to wait in the waiting room for at least half an hour, will I ever catch up on who will win the World Series in the 2002 season (Go Brewers!)?

Well, it turns out that Addie's appointment went really well. She's gained a pound and grown three-quarters of an inch since she was born. Also, her little umbilical stump (the kryptonite to my changing diapers--I have yet to change on, as that little black thing of dead skin really freaked me out) fell off. So, besides the eye-gunk flare up on Saturday, Addie seems to be healthy. As much as I can make light of it now, I was really relieved to get her through her first appointment relatively unscathed. I say unscathed, because they had to prick Addie's heel, which led to the saddest moment of my life--seeing my daughter in pain. I can't wait for shots...

Facebook - The wave of the future!

I now have my feet firmly planted in the information age--I have a Facebook page. Anna's had one for a while now, and she's told me several times that it is a worthwhile pursuit that has allowed her to connect with several people she hasn't seen in years. True to her word, within a few hours of having a Facebook page, I was able to get in touch with several people I hadn't seen in a while. It's exciting, first because I'm glad to catch up with people that I haven't seen in a while, and second because it allows Anna and me to have another forum to share Addie and what a blessing she's been. It's a great forum for pictures, but apparently, it can lead to trouble.

It seems that my dad, after being sent a link to Anna's Facebook page to view pictures of Addie's nursery, set up a Facebook account against his will. Anna, my brother (who originally recounted the tale), and I have been trying to forensically determined how my father, a well-educated successful attorney, could somehow follow a simple link and then walk away with a Facebook account. The best thing is not just that my dad somehow ended up with an account, but he invited everyone in his address book to be his friend. My dad tried to foist the responsibility of creating the account to Anna, telling my brother that Anna had told him that he had to set up a Facebook account to view the pictures. While absolutely wrong in this assertion, my dad did make me realize that he cannot outpace me when it comes to technology.

So now, I have an account. The only catch with Facebook is that I feel a little bit like Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer when I'm logged in: "Your honor, I'm just a caveman. I don't understand this 'writing on your wall,' adding friends, and updating my status. The bright light of the computer screen frightens and confuses me." I normally don't feel behind the curve when it comes to technology. I work with computers, and I'm pretty gadget oriented in general. But somehow, I've allowed myself to become a social networking Luddite. I'm slowly catching up, though. However, my late entry in Facebookdom has allowed me to observe some devious goings on that I now feel obligated to expose.

Coming into the game late, I can clearly see that Facebook is rife with blatant friend whoring. What is friend whoring you ask? Well, it's when somebody requests to be friends with everyone they've ever known, even if the relationship was superficial, or blatantly full of animosity. Case in point, a friend of mine (who will remain nameless) just recently received a friend request from a a former classmate that my friend has stated--on multiple occasions--is his nemesis. To quote my friend, "My nemesis friending me - what was I supposed to do? Should I have ignored his friend request?" That is the true question. Should the friend whore be called out on his behavior so that he will perhaps be shamed into no longer sending friend requests to everyone, including the person he sat next to at a stoplight? I have yet to be faced directly by a blatant attempt to increase one's friend count--all of the friend requests I have received are legitimate. But beware friend whores! I will not allow you to continue with your nefarious schemes! You are now on notice!

Sleep...sweet sleep

One of the biggest struggles of my new fatherhood has been my relationship to sleep. Anna is nursing Addie, so there's a clearly defined limit of how much I can do to actually help her when Addie wakes up in the middle of the night. (Although, Addie did try to eat from my shirt when I was holding her the other day, but that's another story.) Basically, I want to help Anna, but, given the fact that I'm back at work full time, I also want to sleep. Essentially, I'm torn between how much I should sleep and how much I should help Anna.

To her credit, Anna has been fantastic about this. She's not gotten frustrated with me at all about my inability to wake up--even when I want to. Case in point, one night last week, as she was feeding Addie, I looked at Anna and said something akin to: "I'm gonna stay awake while you feed jasdferljkasdf;k;lk...snore." The next morning, Anna only asked me if I remember trying to talk to her with my eyes closed. I don't know if other new dads face this same issue--I want to be helpful, but I also want to be cognizant tomorrow morning.

To complicate things, when I do get to sleep, I have crazy dreams. There's really no need to clean the cobwebs out of my subconscious on the Internet (it's not that kind of blog!). To sum it up, I wake up every morning slightly rested and very confused. I've been spending the better part of the morning, while getting ready for work, trying to deconstruct my dreams. I'm kind of wondering why it is that in one dream, I'm visiting Colonial Williamsburg (I wonder if I would be a good blacksmith?), and then in the next I'm just watching TV. That's right, I had a dream where I just watched TV. I hoped, for a moment, that my brain was functioning as some sort of biological Tivo, recording over-the-air TV transmissions (I hope my brain can make the switch to digital next year--maybe I'll need an adapter). But no luck--I don't remember anything that I dream watched. It was probably just infomercials.

According to everyone I talk to, sleep will be a constant struggle over the next few months. One of my co-workers told me that this lack of sleep leads to a good tired. I only wish this good tired led to a sleep with less crazy dreams.

Al Gore is gonna be mad...

I've never intended this blog to be a forum to discuss the merits or detriments of global warming and the green movement. However, since having a baby, I have learned that diapers are anything but earth friendly. A single diaper, I'll give you, isn't really that bad. It's not going to push the landfill over the edge or anything. But, as Addie goes through at least--I'm estimating here--a thousand diapers a day, I don't think we're helping all that much. Don't worry, I'm trying to offset Addie's prolific poopage by exhaling additional carbon dioxide on plants and watching Ferngully. (Who knew that fairies lived in the rainforest? Why was that not in An Inconvenient Truth?)

Thankfully, our friends in the baby industry are looking out for the average Joe like me. They're aware that after only a day or two, it's possible that your house can be swallowed in an avalanche of dirty diapers. This is why the Diaper Genie was invented. If you've never heard of the Diaper Genie--once you have a baby, you will. For the uninitiated, though, let me give you a brief description. The Diaper Genie is a two-foot plastic tower with a hinged lid, hiding a device that whisks diapers away to some nether realm where no smell molecule can escape. Basically, having a Diaper Genie is like having the most useful droid from Star Wars ever. Yeah, R2-D2 was pretty cool, but until R2 can dispose of diapers in addition to his (its?) regular duties of beeping and hanging out with C3P0, the Diaper Genie has the edge.

I know what you're thinking. "Paul, this Diaper Genie you're talking about sounds like the best invention ever! I bet I could dispose of lots of smelly things in there, like roadkill or old VHS tapes of CHiPs. Where can I get one?" Well, slow down there, Speed Racer. The Diaper Genie's not all rainbows and bubble-gum. It's great...until you have to change it. Turns out, the nether realm that the Diaper Genie transports Addie's dirty business is not an alternate dimension where down is up and black is white--it's just a garbage bag, closed by a clamp. Don't get me wrong, prior to its having to be changed, the Diaper Genie does do a good job of locking the smell away. But when you pull that oblong bag of nastiness out of the base of the Diaper Genie, you're immediately reminded of the fact that your baby has pooped her weight several times over.

Thankfully, the usefulness of the Diaper Genie easily outweighs the unpleasantness of changing it. It holds like thirty dirty diapers or so, which is great, because that means the current bag should last us until, maybe, tomorrow.