Smile, it's Two in the Morning!

Gabe does his best sleeping between eleven pm and ten am, but on nights like last night, he declines to sleep until two. Last night Chris and I were both in the nursery at two, and I was telling Gabe what a stinker he was being for keeping us up, when Gabe smiled at us. Much parental excitement ensued.

The smile is definitely nature’s way of preventing parents from killing their young.

Gabe didn’t want to sleep much after two, either, but if I had been sleeping I wouldn’t have seen this lovely morning atmospheric effect.



I am getting faster at typing with one hand, due to baby in arm, and I’m even learning to use a mouse left-handed, or as they call it in snowboarding, “goofy”. (And as a non-sequitor, in snowboarding I am not even goofy; I’m both-footed, which boggled the instructor I once briefly had.)

Gabriel the Gamer

Gabe woke up not to long ago with a diaper filled to the brim with grim. After a quick change by daddy it was onto the breast of the great giver of life. I returned after about fifteen minutes to do another diaper check and was rewarded with some wonderful gas smiles and well, the gas that goes with them.

Upon return to the boob Gabe was right back in action. The problem is that the boob had been completely drained of milk. Now this didn't stop Gabe, and as he lay their wide eyed I could only think one thing. He's a little dirty spawn camper waiting for the milk to spawn, and by golly he's going to be first in line. As I carried him over to the other side of the bed to tackle the slightly respawned boob I narrated what must be going on in his mind to Michelle who nearly died laughing.

Gabe: "Dude why you takin' me away from my boob. I'm totally camping the hamburger spawn. I mean seriously there this bot that's totally been taking my milk when I sleep. If I don't camp it I'll miss it all. Bots are so lame, they take the milk and sell it on the Internets, I bet it was made in China."

Well I can hear him crying over the intercom so I'll be heading back up for another diaper change.

More Pictures

Gabe made some new friends at the yearly block party:





Gabe, deep in thought.




Gabe, being hauled around like a sack of potatoes:





Look at that tongue!




Like a mighty leopard, snoozing in a tree. . .

Naked Baby!

Gabe’s got some diaper-rash, so I put him out naked on a towel to air-dry. And I couldn’t resist taking pictures.

Naked babies are adorable.




Look at all of this hair!




Gabe can hold his head up! At least, for a few seconds, before he goes all bobbly-headed.




Gabe concluded the session by first peeing on the floor, carpet included, and then by peeing all over my pants, shirt, and bra. I probably deserved it.

Protecting Gabe From Himself

Like all infants, Gabe came equipped with claws. In his flailings, those little claws scratch up his face. Keeping the claws trimmed is an ongoing fight, and largely futile.

Both my mother and a random woman at the post office suggested I try biting Gabe’s nails. I’ve tried it, and I have to say, so far, biting is at least as effective at the clippers and files, takes less time, and I don’t have to coordinate having the nail kit and the sleeping baby in the same place at the same time.

Another way that Gabe has learned to inflict damage on himself: his roving hand grasps a hank of his own hair and pulls. This causes him to scream in pain, which causes his mutinous hand to pull all the harder. He has done it four times now, and at every changing I see his creeping fingers come perilously close to doing it again. Mitten sleeves are becoming doubly useful.

And yesterday’s funny: while falling asleep in my arms, the rest of his body and face slack and sleepy, Gabe’s eyes suddenly went wide, eyeballs darting every-which-way like Mad-Eye Moody’s. He had gone into REM sleep with his eyes wide open!

Mourning for a Whale

I love to joke about nursing, but I also find it to be deeply profound. The idea that this little being derives all of his sustenance, and all of his water, from my body – that humbles me. And it scares me. What if something should happen to me? Thank goodness for modern medicine: I may have a low opinion of formula in comparison to mom’s milk, but formula is a godsend in the face of starvation.

I cried when I read today that a baby humpback whale, not much older than Gabe, has been abandoned or separated from its mother. It was found in Sydney harbor, attempting to nurse from a yacht. Modern medicine has not invented formula for whales, so in all likelihood it will be dead soon.

This is going to haunt me for a while.

Gabe’s First Bath

Gabe’s belly button has fully healed into a little smile, and he’s had some up-to-his-waist-in-poo diapers, so he had his first tub bath yesterday.

The modest picture:




The less modest picture, with his daddy:




Chris did a marvelous job of getting him clean and sparkly - even the armpits, which apparently I hadn't cleaned well in his last two sponge-baths, because they smelled like toe-jam.

Gabe is three weeks old today. He is getting the hang of focusing his gaze on people and things now. His favorite subjects: mommy and daddy, and the nifty mobile over his changing table that was a gift from one of my coworkers. (Thanks Erik!)

When Gabe is awake and not crying, he makes the most amazing little sounds. They aren't cooing sounds just yet, though every so often he will make some surprising exclamation of a single vowel, as if by mistake. ("Ah!") Mom call the little chirps and sucking noises "puppy sounds". For some reason, I can't stop thinking they are the sounds a small baby dinosaur would make.