The Up Toilet Seat Heard 'Round the World

Everyone went away for a whole week to hang out at my mother's house. Being home alone, I thought I would be going out every night, getting stupid, making plans. Turns out, I didn't miss plans or going out. I missed "nothing". Coming home, turning off my brain and doing absolutely nothing. It was pretty glorious. No one to bathe, no one to feed. Unfortunately, my brain didn't know how to process this and it rewarded me by giving me a major bout of insomnia. I probably got less sleep with everyone gone than when they're here. Luckily, I had the Presidential debate on my DVR. That's some good white noise.

When everyone's home, not only does Evie the infant sleep in our bed, but refuses to sleep unless she's on her stomach. This is bad, but would be worse if she couldn't pick her head up. The crib is literally collecting dust. So, suffice is to say I don't sleep in that bed very much and usually opt for the couch. If I'm sleeping closer than 2 feet from her, I pop awake every 30 minutes to see if she's still breathing or to make sure she's not under me. On those now rare occasions when I AM sleeping with them, I lie across the foot of the bed like some kind of animal. I've been relegated to the family pet. Our cat is like, "Dude, that's MY spot. Go back to the couch!"

Mired In Poop & Exhaustion

I remember when Alina was born and it took me a while to know what to say here other than "I'm Tired" and "Poop". It's kinda like that now, just multiplied. At times I wonder if there will ever be an end to poop and exhaustion. Between the cat, fish, iguana, and children, it seems that an inordinate amount of my day is spent dealing in fecal matters. Then, our parents are going to start becoming incontinent and we'll have to deal with them too.

I used to dread shopping. Now, we argue over who gets to go to the store because it's time to be alone with your thoughts, among other things. I actually took great joy in a 4-minute car wash the other day. All enveloped in pink and green foam, the mild vibration of the water and shammies. It was so ... peaceful. I'm finding joy in the smallest things. Like Buffalo Wing flavored Pretzels and the fact that my cell phone can ID songs just by listening to them. What's wrong with me?

Evie turned 8 weeks old this week and she's starting to come out of her hold-me-or-I-cry phase. When Alina was that old, you could hang her on a hook by the onesie and she wouldn't make a peep. We knew we couldn't bat .1000 in the serene infant department. That would've been too lucky. Wife and I have different approaches to crying. I contend that it's just how she communicates and isn't always something that I can fix. Outside of the usual: Gas, Change Me, Burp Me, Feed Me - sometimes she's just fussy. Sometimes she's just tired. I can't make her sleep, but she'll keep herself awake crying because she's tired and wants to sleep. It's irrational, but it's babies. Sometimes sucking on something helps, other times there's nothing to be done. She just eventually realizes her own exhaustion and drops like a mallet. Katrina always tries to find a way to console and it stresses her out when nothing works. I don't have milk that lets down, so I can't possibly feel the same way. But, when Evie isn't kvetching, she's smiling a lot and looking people in the eye. A personality is starting to form so she's less of a flailing lump and more of a smiling flailing lump.

The standard battery of shots soon approaches so we'll be able to take her places where the diseased roam and the filthy trod - like a gymboree or a subway platform. Alina was born in the winter so not going out until the shots was easy. But this summer baby is going places, ho boy. We started going to Jones Beach in the early evening. There's hardly anyone there, it isn't hot, Alina can play in the sand, and it's very serene. We're not supposed to go where there's people, particularly indoor places. Away from crowds. Brooklyn Botanical Garden, a bevvy of local farms that have either apple, strawberry, or blueberry picking, and the local zoos have been frequented. Malls suck anyway. Not having shots has been a great excuse to breath old fashioned fresh air. Well, with JFK, LGA, LIE, BQE, and the Van Wyck so close by who knows how fresh it is. Luckily, Forest Hills isn't a misnomer. Lots of trees. Lots of birds in those trees. Lots of crap on my car. Oooh! Time for another car wash!