Wednesday, 28 July 2010
So, I am a father…again. But this time to a daughter! Isla Fayette was born on 28 July at 5:04 in the morning. She was born on a Wednesday, just like her dad. Unlike Owen and me, however, she was born on a bright, sunny day (once the sun rose, that is).
Regarding the birth, there’s probably not too much else I can or want to say here on this blog beyond what I already wrote on Owen’s blog, which you can read here: CLICK THIS. I suppose it’s time to update that blog, too, since it’s not just for Owen any longer.
Speaking of Owen, he’s been a big help. He’s more than happy to hold Isla, or just put his hand on her head. He helped me drain the tub, too. He kept making sure the line wasn’t chinked and he kept running into the bathroom to ensure the water was draining away down the toilet.
My two big concerns about having the tub here at the apartment were, first, that the weight of the tub would cause it to go crashing through the floor and, second, that I’d do something wrong in filling or draining the tub and end up spilling a couple of hundred gallons onto the floor. As it turns out, a little bit of competence – and some of that help from Owen – keeps any spills from happening. The only slight problem I had was that, contrary to what the woman who delivered our tub told us, I couldn’t just set the hose in the toilet and set the seat on top of it. This is because either the water pressure was too strong and it flung out of the toilet, or the water pressure was so weak that the weight of the toilet seat squeezed the hose and prevented the tub from draining. So I pulled out the trusty duct tape, and all was well.
Actually, living in an apartment provided two positives for using a birth tub. First: there’s essentially unlimited hot water. See, in a house, I would maybe have 50 gallons of hot water, and then would need to wait while the heater refilled and heated before filling the tub the rest of the way. But here, I just turned on the cold and hot water all the way and – viola! –the tub was filled in <30 minutes. Second: big garbage bins. In a house, I would’ve had to stuff a lot of stuff into our garbage bin, but here, I just carried out the tub liner and some other pieces of trash and flung them into oblivion.
Thursday, 29 July 2010
Today, Owen and I ran out to Abdallah Chocolate Factory in Burnsville to pick up some chocolate “It’s a Girl!” cigars (which you will receive if you are one of Isla’s first 24 visitors). Afterward, I asked Owen if he wanted to see where I grew up, since it’s only about a mile from the Chocolate Factory. Owen said yes, so I drove on.
I drove him to a mobile home park. I lived in that park for nearly 15 years: over seven years in one mobile home, and seven more years in the next mobile home. It was very strange driving into the park. After years of sitting in the back seat as a kid, or riding my bike around the park, suddenly I was there as an adult. All sorts of memories came flooding back. I showed Owen the hill my sister and I used to race our bikes down, I showed him where I waited for the bus, the Laundromat, the playground, and I even pointed out the former residences of people I used to know.
But here’s the depressing thing: neither mobile home I lived in was there any more. I knew that the first one I live in was gone, because that one was gone years ago. So I showed Owen the lot where mobile home #24 was located, but then when I took him over to lot #56, well, that mobile home wasn’t there either. It was replaced with an inferior mobile home.
That’s another thing – I know it sounds silly to say so, but Camelot Acres used to be a nice mobile home park. My parents even had to pay extra to live there because it was rated the nicest one in the state. They had all these silly rules, like no playgrounds in the yards, no fences, and no dogs, just to keep the place looking nicer. Unlike nearly every other mobile home park, they didn’t have any speed bumps, either. Now…things are different. There’s a trashy fence behind lot #24, blocking the hill where we once grew a massive garden. Lots of yards had rusted, cheap playgrounds, and worst of all – there are now speed bumps! Yuck! Even the park – which used to have that regal sounding name of Camelot Acres (the rental office was built to look like a castle!) – has now changed its name to Arbor Vista. Arbor Vista? What’s with that? That’s like, the blandest name ever. What housing community doesn’t cobble together two words consisting of something relating to plants and something relating to how those plants are treated?
I think Owen could sense my disappointment. Me, I was surprised how disappointed I could be about a freakin’ mobile home park I haven’t lived in for many years.
Friday, 30 July 2010
Today was the first day that felt like a new routine was starting. There was no visit from the midwives today, and Owen and I didn’t go out to run any errands. The four of us just stayed home. We took some pictures of Isla in her coming home outfit, and we shot some video.
Isla slept better last night than she did on her first night. I am hoping to not repeat Owen’s first year of life, wherein he screamed every night from 8:00 – midnight. He was a good sleeper, though, it was just a matter of getting him to that state of unconsciousness. Last night, I paced the apartment with Isla in my arms, trying to get her to sleep. She was alert – staring at me and looking at the lights from outside the windows – but at least she wasn’t making any noises. This is good, because I don’t mind becoming tired as much as I mind becoming insane.
Saturday, 31 July 2010
Here’s some recent dialogue…
Me: Owen, did you just toot?
Owen: No, that was Isla. It’s always Isla.
Later…
Me (handing Owen a wrapped up dirty diaper): Here, Owen, can you go throw this away for me?
Owen: Eww. No. I’m not gonna do that. Don’t ever ask me to do that again.
Speaking of infants’ bodily functions, I totally forgot this (or maybe it was a mental block), but did you know that newborn babies like nothing more than to get poop on their ankles? Yep, it’s true, their legs are constructed in such a way so that they snap, frog-like, into this tightly balled-up position wherein their ankles are squarely snugged next to their butt hole. Normally, this is a really cut thing – “Aww, look how cute her little legs are, all folded up like that!” But when changing a diaper, it’s not so cute. See, the adult has to use their hands to get the diaper off, so they’re not paying attention when SNAP! Those legs fold up and ankles meet anus. Newborns especially love to do this if they have socks on.