six days, seven nights, 19 naps

Oliver is now nearly 6 days old. I can't quite remember our first-born at that time. Probably because the three of us were just leaving the hospital. So far, we've been doing the three-hour rotation of eat, cry, and sleep. I should note that often everyone in the household is taking part in the crying, or is close to it. Thank goodness I've had the week off to help out with the overnight-hours feedings.

That's not to say I'm essential, or even useful at times. The other night I hit the sack early (like, 8:30) and got up to help for the 11:00 feeding. After handing the baby over to my wife, I promptly fell asleep sitting on the couch, and was sent back to the bedroom. I've become a much better napper in the past 22 months, but still haven't perfected the "nap anytime and fully recover" move.


Today's domestic comedy:

Her:
“It’s pretty hard to enjoy a bath when you’re leaning on one butt-cheek so as to not sit on your stitches and trying to steady yourself while you try to read a book, and then you look down and you realize your breasts are dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. It's no wonder new mothers never feel human."

Me:
And with the brown water [from the dying water heater], it's really just like sitting in a tub of tea.


For all you men out there who like to hear, overhear, or even take part in conversations about women's breasts: I highly recommend having children. You'll be amazed by the prevalence of boob-talk in everyday conversation. But beware: Demystifying the breast can be a double-edged sword.

Well, it's now 8:44, and while part of me is saying "aww, go ahead and stay up until he feeds at 10", another part is saying, "you're nuts. you should be asleep by now."

One of the saving graces of this week of parental bliss is that the overnight television features a number of college football bowl games, and I no longer scoff at the prospect of "catching the late game of Hockey Night in Canada."

And finally, my two pleas to the gods of television programming:
To TBS: Please, please, please, stop showing cheesy Val Kilmer movies. I'm dying over here.
To my sports channel: Please curtail the frequency in which you air Cialis commercials. Does anyone need to see the barely-graying man and woman arrive at the opera during the final aria? NO! I'm starting to wonder if Cialis really isn't about curing erectile dysfunction, but about teaching middle-agers about time management skills. Christ, can't you people PLAN TO GET ANYWHERE ON TIME? Hmm, maybe a side effect is 'unpredictable boner'. I should check into this before I turn 55.

Right then....off to nap.

Posted bythemikestand at 8:55 PM  

6 stepped up to the mike:

Brianna said... 1:02 PM, December 31, 2005  

do you think these other comments are actually blog spam? I, of course have no need to spam my blog since it's only updated once every 2 months... (though it is updated now).

Happy new year!

themikestand said... 8:48 PM, December 31, 2005  

Happy new year to you, too! And yes, blog spam is rampant around these parts, but I may institute some safeguards to prevent that.

Sassy said... 3:54 PM, January 03, 2006  

What a CUTE baby boy!! Congratulations!

Charlatan said... 5:42 PM, January 04, 2006  

Hey! Congratulations... Oliver is a little cutie.

I know you know but take care of Mom.

sween said... 3:59 PM, January 05, 2006  

I've been wondering -- what is the reaction of KulrblindSpawn 1.0 to the new replaceme- I mean, spare?

themikestand said... 4:04 PM, January 05, 2006  

Sween:
Actually, he's getting used to having the little brother, aka "Aww-vrr" around -- even looks for him in the mornings. I suspect he's not old enough to feel real resentment and jealousy which could manifest itself physically.

However, the tempers are a little shorter and the tears seem to come more easily. For 1.0 that is... oh, hell, for everyone. Who am I kidding?

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