SPEC

SPEC is my new acronym I just coined for all new parents to know about. It stands for Sleep-Poop-Eat-Cry. Not necessarily in that order, and some simultaneously, this is Sam's life exclusive of all other things. Oh, actually, there's a slight variant to this acronym: SPECASPOD. That stands for Sleep-Poop-Eat-Cry-and-sometimes-pee-on-dad. You see, and some of you know, babies of course have no control over urethral and bladderal matters. Nor, as I found out, do the bowels fall into the category of "things Sam has any regard for the control of". I was holding him last night, and felt and heard a thunder down under, so I though I'd do him a solid and change him after only farting himself up a little bit, as it didn't appear a huge poop had been made. So he's on the changing table, ankles in my hands, kiester in the air, and out comes a squirt of projectile mustard! Marne thought it was pretty funny. It got even funnier while, holding him in the same position frozen with amazement at what I just saw and nearly missed a direct interaction with, he peed on me, himself, and the floor!! Gah.

Oh, but what a joy he is! Our first night home was pretty uneventful. He cried a little at night, but nothing Marne wasn't able to shush up with some feeding. I felt well rested in the morning. But the second night, oh boy. He had a 3 hour span from 11:45 pm to 2:45 am where he pretty much didn't stop crying. I got up too, and tried to see what I could do, but he really only stopped when we held him...as soon as it appeared that he calmed down, we'd lay him back down, and he'd immediately resume screaming bloody murder. When I held him, he kept trying to milk me, so I had to tell Marne, "Sorry, I really wish there was something I could do to more directly help, but Tubbs McGhee over here wants to eat again." So he'd eat, then cry again. I think Marne fed him twice in that time period.

So I didn't really feel refreshed that morning, and as soon as I got into work started figuring out which upcoming week would be best for me to take off while we adjust. But then last night, it was perfect! Marne set an alarm at 2am to roust him up for some eats, but he ended up stirring about a little bit right around then, so he was up and ready anyway. He had a good feeding, went back to sleep, and didn't wake up again until 5:30am. Hah! Perfect. I could go for this every night. I'm not stupid enough to believe he's on this schedule now, but here's to hoping we're on the right path.

Marne and I were able to enjoy a civil meal around a table with him here:


Also Grandpa Osten came by the house, and this time Sam got some pics with him. Somehow he evaded the camera at the hospital:


Sam has been taking more pictures with Dad than Mom, because every time Dad tries to take a picture with Sam and Mom, Mom is exposed...I tell you Sam eats a lot. But here are good'ns with pappy:


Also Great Auntie Lynnie rolled up and spent some time with her new boy. He wasn't really awake, but it was good times nonetheless:

Nothing like a good photo to make you realize how many LBs you've put on since you stopped working out. Oh well, I have more important things to worry about.

For those who don't know, I built Sam's crib from scratch...just raw planks of Maple to start with. I have an amateur wood shop which has completely overtaken our garage. Below is a picture of it. I don't brag about much, unless I'm trying to be funny, and we all know that I'm pretty much the funniest person ever, but this crib...I am truly proud of it and must tell you all that I put about 80-100 hours into it. We look forward to it being a family heirloom for generations to come. And don't worry...it meets Consumer Product Safety Commission guidelines for children's furniture. Here's a picture of it:


Here's a picture of our dog Jerry hiding under it:


I include this stupid picture here because it's a great segue into telling you all how well Cujo has done since returning from his rehab. Actually, he didn't go to rehab per se, but he did go stay with my Aunt Carole and her family and dogs while we were in the hospital. We were apprehensive about him around the baby, because he's behaved extremely protectively around Marne towards me. We were hoping he wouldn't behave that way towards Sam. Also, he has shown that he doesn't really like little kids. But something magical happened while he was gone. I'm serious, Carole, or actually it was probably my Cousin Molly, is the Jerry Whisperer. He is mellow, he comes to me rather than Marne for attention, he doesn't bark at benign bumps in the night any more...just a great dog now. He doesn't even flinch when Sam is screaming. It's bizarre. Dogs are amazingly unexplainable sometimes. It's as though he immediately recognized and resigned himself to the fact that Marne will not be giving him attention like she used to, and that Sam is a part of her and therefore equally as acceptable. We are very happy to have him back and see him doing so well with the adjustment, because having to get rid of him would not have been an option. Thanks Rowe Family!!

Well, that's all for now. I am going to get another cup of coffee and make some French Toast. Don't suppose the French Toast has something to do with the extra LBs, do ya? Oh well...