Monkey House

So, somewhat as per my predictions, here’s how the day went. The details are excessive, and possibly only interesting if you can visualize me with Cole. But this is really more for my wife and Cole’s grandparents than anyone else, so read at your own peril:

Woke up at 8:30. Must wake up at 7:30 from now on. Here’s why: I’m incapable of making coffee and eating cereal by the time Cole is unhappy with his current activity (whatever that happens to be at the time.. mat, exersaucer, whatever). He gets unhappy that quickly. I thought to myself, “meh, he can sob a little bit while I eat. A guy’s gotta eat.” But that didn’t work out so well for me. I *did* manage to grab a bowl of cereal (ate with one hand at the counter, Cole in the other arm) but it wasn’t worth it. I’d rather wake up earlier and share breakfast with my wife.

Suffice it to say, from 8:30 – 9:00 I juggled Cole in one arm while trying to get my day started. He wasn’t uncooperative, but I knew he was in the mood to wander and look out the window, not to be on his mat or in some other independence-granting device.

But at 9:00 the shit hit the fan. Not literally. Thankfully.

Chapter 1: The Bottle Disaster

In which you are free to laugh at my stupidity and lack of coordination slash lack of planning slash inexperience.

He started off with some mild “mem mem mem” syllables, which is his way of asking for food/milk. Even though Alie told me he often doesn’t eat again until 10:00 I figured, “well, he’s asking… I get to follow my own instincts.” The instincts, as it turns out, were somewhat correct. He did show an interest in milk. However, I did NOT have the right bottle for him. We had only done a “test run” with one of his Medela bottles and he was fine with it. The ones I had today? Disaster.

Grabbed the first milk-bearing vessel I found in the fridge, which was a training sippy cup. It allegedly has fairly slow flow for a sippy (just a pinhole, not a full opening).

Bottle Disaster Part 1

The milk still had ice floating inside of it. I ran the hot water into a container, put the bottle into the container, and swooshed it around every now and then. “How long is this going to take to melt?” Jeeziz Greg, think better on your toes… it’s a frickin hunk of ice! But no, I didn’t think to look for backup milk, assuming they were all going to be the same or just not really getting the lightbulb moment. More hot water, more swirling…

“mem mem” starts escalating to “mem MEM mem”…

Hot water, swirling, muttering under breath, baby starting to tire the one arm out. One-handed attempt to make coffee failing. Ditching Cole in exersaucer to better use my hands failing MISERABLY (crying ensued… the kid is hungry, not looking for playtime).

“MEM MEM MEM!”

“Is that damn ice melted yet? Frantic swirling (never shake). Yes! It’s melted!” How the hell do they test temperature on TV? Squirt some on the wrist? Dammit, my other wrist is covered by Cole due to the way I’m holding him. Surely any other sensitive exposed skin will work? But what?

Your FOREHEAD, Greg? Is that the best you can come up with? Yup. SPLOOSH! An unexpectedly large amount of COLD boobie milk… running down into my eyes.

“MEM MEM, YOU CRUEL BUGGER, MEMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” Swirl, swirl, hot water hot water…. “It’s OK, Cole” (in fake calm and pleasing voice)… jeeziz, it’s gotta be at least warm by now. Not going to test on my forehead slash eyeballs again, though.

Sippy into sobbing mouth.

A Sippy, even a supposedly “slow flowing trainer” is not a bottle with a nipple. He happily drank for a few moments before the flow became too much and he started letting it leak out of his mouth onto his shirt. “No problem, as long as he’s getting some milk.” Then he started flailing it around and getting milk everywhere. “A bit of patience… he’ll return to drinking in a moment” I thought. Well, that’s when he decided that pressing it against his chin (missing his mouth) was going to get food to the inside. No, just more on his shirt. I tried guiding it back to his mouth, but he was fighting me when I tried to tip it up sufficiently. When I showed him who was “boss” and tipped it up enough, just more milk coming out of his mouth. Not only is his shirt getting wet, but precious mem is getting wasted. I need that warm mem! Can’t warm up another bottle! Must revise strategy.

Bottle Disaster Part 2

OK, there are definitely some bottles around, even if not the Medela ones. Cupboard check: there we go! Glass bottle with rubber nipple! One-handedly unscrew Sippy and transfer milk over, one-handed screw nipple onto bottle (well, a BIT of an assist with hand 2 but not much). As you can imagine, Cole is not amused at this point. And I’m feeling like the most unprepared uncoordinated pooper of a dad ever. OK… into the mouth!

Cole latches on. Starts sucking properly. This is good. BUT NO MILK IS COMING OUT!

As you’ve already guessed, there was a plastic ‘guard/stopper/seal/what the hell do you call that useless hunk of plastic?’ inside the screw-top nipple thing. I, however, did not guess that just yet.

Take away the bottle (he was upset anyhow when no milk showed up), tilt it upside down. Some milk got through the seal on the neck (one-handed tighten!) but none through the nipple. “Must be the crappy sealing job.. can’t get suction.” Tighten’er with both hands. Let’s get this sucker primed for Cole. Bottle into my OWN mouth, suck suck… NOTHING still. Cole: “MEMMMMMMM WAHHHH!!! JUST PULL OUT YOUR BOOB, WHAT’S WITH THIS BOTTLE THING?” Sorry guy, no boob.

Unscrewed the nipple, solved the blockage mystery.

Been a few minutes. Is the milk still warm? Shifted positions, so my other wrist was exposed this time around. Squirt! Not really. More warm water, swirl swirl, swirl… must’ve been some ice in the middle still that chilled the milk back down. Water, Water, Swirl. OK.

Keep in mind, Cole has been in one arm this whole time, squirming, crying. And yes, I tried abandonating him a few times to other diversions. But he was past the point of no return, and I couldn’t let him feel totally rejected and refused.

Bottle in mouth. “There ya go, guy! Do what you were doing before!” Chew, chew. Milk dribbles. Chew. My fallible instincts kick in a little, and I think… well, we don’t want him chewing on a simulated nipple, or he’ll be chewing on the real thing. Now that teeth are growing in, that’ll be especially rough. So, I readjust the nipple, make it more suction friendly, and…

He spits it out and cries.

Try again…

Pushes it away, physically, with 2 hands.

Bottle Disaster Part 3

Oh. My. God. What have I done? I’ve lost my chance to feed him and calm him down! Now the milk is getting low, since it’s all over him. He is literally soaked in milk. Milk is drying on the bridge of my nose from when I squirted it on my forehead. Milk is on the couch from when he was flinging the Sippy around. Milk is all over the floor from wrist-squirt attempts.

Upstairs, shirt change (crying… the most heartbreakingly pained crying he’s capable of… the same kind he lets loose with sometimes in the car when he’s overtired, sick of his car seat, has no toys, and is hungry hungry). Leave him in the crib for a precious 60 seconds to run downstairs and re-arm.

Bottle check: glass bottle, milk is getting low… most of it is spread around the house and on our mutual faces.
Fridge check: ooooo, some sort of other sippy, a smaller one, with non-frozen milk! That should be quick to warm up!

Sippy-Thing into water. Cole upstairs continuing to cry. OK, leave the water running (running water doing some swirling action for me as well! Clever!) and go retrieve my inconsolable son. Having been picked up, he’s a bit more calm. Downstairs. Sippy-thing. Wrist test? How? Sploosh. Yeah, it’s a bit slower than the other sippy thing. This might work. Into the mouth while it’s still relatively calm.

Chew, chew, one or two swallows… and the PUSH AWAY! Have I turned him off bottles entirely?

“MEM!” It’s back.

Bottle Disaster Part 4

There’s gotta be another kind of bottle. Oh, here’s another glass bottle with a silicon sleeve! That looks high-tech and effective. Transfer. Warm the milk a bit more for good measure… Wrist-check: SQUIRT! (in all-caps because although not a SPLOOSH, this was more milk than I expected). OK, it’s warm. Great! Nipple, bottle, warm…

Mouth!

No good.

Bottle Disaster: The Conclusion

I did try a few more transfers (at least the Sippy had him swallowing some milk) but in the end, he was rejecting everything. I was convinced he was off bottles. I tried to raise his mom on MSN for at least some words of encouragement, but since she hadn’t moved into her new office yet, she was not online. I was alone.

I took him upstairs, where we read a book. He actually smiled, calmed down, and had fun. When I tried to read a second, he was having none of it. Went downstairs, and he was calm on his mat for less than 5 minutes, but it was still welcome. Calm in my arms for another 2 or 3 minutes, and then he was back to being hungry and upset, but still refusing food.

In the end, exhaustion finally won out. As he cried for mem but refused mem in a bottle, he began to alternate between resting his head on my shoulders for 10 seconds, and bolting upright in my arms crying. Occasional giggles due to dad’s silly noises, and occasional moments of calm as I sang my best Jazz standards, but mostly an upset child. Finally during one walk upstairs I decided to cradle him in my arms and bounce on the exercise ball after turning on the Sleep Sheep’s “ocean waves” setting. He was asleep within five bounces. A quick scare when he briefly opened his eyes as I lay him down, but a rub on the tummy and some soothing words put him back out.

For thirty minutes.

But by the time he awoke, he was willing to give the original glass bottle (not the silicon one) another try. It was well-warmed this time. He was calm. And he latched onto the rubber nipple rather than chewing it. Drank a good amount of milk, and returned to being my happy little monkey.

Chapter 2: Going Mobile

In which we leave the house together in search of distraction and adventure. It’s not as traumatic as the morning was. It’s also shorter.

Once he was fed, I called Alie up and we finalized our existing plans to meet for lunch. Bundled Cole up. Started the car. FORGOT HIS BLANKET, but the car was warmed up by the time we climbed in, so I didn’t go back for it. Spoiler: we never ended up needing it after all.

It was awesome to see my wife. Cole got to have some snack from ‘the source’, he showed off his cutie smile and eyes for strangers and acquaintances alike, and ultimately it was uneventful. Which was exactly what I needed.

Mobile Nap Mistake

I was NOT going home without proper bottles. Alie sent a fresh bottle along in the bag, but I was also instructed to get some extras at the mall, plus an Adiri bottle (which apparently simulates the real thing fairly well). Babies R Us at St. Laurent, here I come! Drive was uneventful. In fact, I’d been thinking that he was being rather awesome in his car seat, which isn’t typical. But just as I’m turning into the parking lot, I see that his eyes have closed. Gotta make a snap judgement call… let him sleep (ALWAYS the right answer if in doubt) or wake him up under the assumption that he’ll fall back asleep again in the stroller.

You guessed it. I made the DUMB decision and woke him up. He cried quite loudly at having been awoken after only a 60-second snooze, but showed signs of going back under. Loaded him into the car. Grabbed supplies. NO BLANKET, not wanting to waste time putting on mitts, so quickly to the mall.

Oh, for Pete’s Sakes. Wallet is in the car. At least I noticed before getting any further in the shopping trip.

Mitts quickly on. Back to the car. Not much complaining, but man… that cold air sure wakes a guy up! By the time we’re back to the mall, he’s not ready to sleep again yet. Maybe some travelling around.

Waste time looking in various stores, getting a coffee at Second Cup (much needed… didn’t end up getting one made at home), and finally visiting Babies R Us. Still no sleep. OK, make the purchase. To wash the new nipples now, or sterilize properly at home? Sterilize. He’ll survive.

No sleep yet? Heck, might as well go past work, where a package has arrived for me. Let the little guy visit with my friends at work. OR, it’s on the way home, so make a call as I get closer. But first, to get out of the mall.

Make my way back to the exit… and… “MEM!” Oh crap. Should’ve washed the nipple. “MEM!” OK… uh… well, too late now… take more time to get back to a nursing station and get everything ready… can pretty much be home by then. Mitts on, hat on, child NOT enjoying his stroller and arching his back and starting to cry. Into the arms (calms down) and back to the car. Car seat = hell. Crying = loud.

Wait, a spark of genius! I can swing by work, let a carefully selected staff member (you know who you are) babysit for a minute, sterilize the new nipple, warm up the fresh milk, make a happy baby! OK, off to work after all!

Mobile Nap Mistake Recovery!

Wouldn’t you know it. The MINUTE we pull up to my place of work, his eyes close. Well, I’m not making the same mistake twice. Call to the office, and the would-be 3-minutes-of-babysitting babysitter brings me my package.

Drive around for 40 minutes.

Will bring my Nintendo DS next time. Or a book. Or anything. Driving for 40 minutes is boring. And environmentally unfriendly. Plus other drivers suck, so why drive alongside them any more minutes of the day than you have to?

In case you weren’t keeping track….

One more fail for the day: his diaper hadn’t been changed since the wet shirt change. That’s…. er…. 4 hrs? 3 of which he was probably wet. Def. should have changed him at least once, probably at the mall. I’ll remember next time.

Mostly Awesome Finish

With only a few hours until I’m able to cross the finish-line on the solo part of my first day of Parental Leave (well, not “solo”… but you know what I mean!), we arrive home and engage in some of his favourite activities. I had called my wife to find out her ETA and arrange a walk, so I knew exactly how much time to count down.

But first, some more MEM! Having awoken, he needed a schnack.

The Medela bottle = hyper-success. Perfect drink, perfect latch (well, for a fake nipple), good flow, no squirting everywhere. Happy grinny boy at the end of it. Onto the fun!

Exersaucer = fun and exciting, especially with daddy engaged in playing with the toys alongside him.
Graco “jolly jumper” thing = Best. Jumping. Evar. Laughing so much, jumping around with all kinds of intent and strength.

Changed his diaper again. This time he was visibly upset at having to be re-clothed. So I thought, “what the schnutz? NAKEY TIME!” When I stopped diapering him and instead took off his shirt, he lit right up. It’s like he KNEW nakey time was coming, and was the happiest little guy int he world because of it. Few towels on his playmat, few toys in arm’s reach, and he was having a great time. Some tickle time, giggles, and NO PEEING IN DAD’S FACE marked an awesome bout of nakey time.

On with the clothes, walk around a bit, and some calls for “MEM”.

It was going to be a close one, with a full 30 minutes until Mama Monkey’s expected ETA. Between toys, walking, funny noises, and other distractions, we made it (although Mama was actually about 15 minutes later than planned). Hand-off.

The driveway needed shoveling and the dogs needed walking.

Rarely have I ever been so happy to do chores. After a nice head-clearing walk with my other favourite boys, I set about for a follow-up task. With a shovel in hand, and the snow being a bit more difficult to shovel than it first appeared, my concentration was absorbed and could not be interrupted by what was going on inside. Which was actually nothing. A bit of food, a hug with mommy, and he was down for a nap at exactly the right time of day.

Conclusion to Parental Leave Day 1

There will never be another day like today. This is our first child, and it’s the first time I was responsible for him throughout the day. It was difficult (I honestly blame the equipment for the lack of success in the morning! But it was memorable…) but it was not unpossible. When I got stuff right, it was rewarding. Ultimately, I didn’t do anything that I haven’t done a hundred times already alongside Mama Monkey. But it felt different. When I change diapers on “my shift” when it’s the two of us, it always feels like, “I should do my part to chip in here! Alie works so hard!” But today it didn’t have that subtext. I was “it” as far as attending to his needs went. And having my child so dependent on me for those basic needs was all the more heartbreaking when I couldn’t provide them (bottle failures) and more rewarding when I could (giggly grins after successful naps, playtime, and feeding).

I can’t say I wouldn’t change a thing. With a time machine, I’d leave myself some proper bottles. I could do without making Cole hungry. But I ALMOST wouldn’t change a thing.