All is well

Just a note to readers: everyone in the household seems to be doing fine. Monkey, Monkey Mama, and Unnamed Little One are great; the Monkey Daddy is well past his stomach bug ailment; and the Monkey Daddy's parents are almost at the same point in their respective stomach bug ailment recoveries.

Third Sense

Everyone is familiar with the effects of an adrenal surge, the so-called "Fight or Flight" reaction.

I'm here to say that fathers of newborns have yet another option: Grow a Beard.

(Actually, it's not an option: it's mandatory.)

New Name?

The new addition to the family needs a blog pseudonym. So far, all I've got are: Little One, Baby Girl, and Monkerina. Any suggestions?

Bedtime now

Tonight I put my two kids to bed. First, the Monkey, in his bed. Next, the new addition to the family, in her hospital crib. Both times I nodded asleep with them.

It's time for my real bedtime now.

A week ago, the Monkey Mama was spending the night in a hospital with an acute but still undiagnosed ailment. It got better.

Tonight, the Monkey Mama is in a different hospital,and for a different reason. The newest addition to our family was admitted with a fever as a precautionary measure. The fever broke yesterday or the day before, under the unwavering vigilance of the Monkey Mama. The little one will be released tomorrow if all goes well. It was a very unsettling dark cloud, but not without its silver linings.

All things considered, hospitals are very uncomfortably furnished places, full of people who are employed to wake you up at short intervals to take vital statistics. Hospitals are not restful places for new moms to recuperate from childbirth.

Terrible

The less said about the last two days, the better.

Suffice it to say that the condition of the Monkey Mama must have been most dire indeed that she agreed to be hospitalized for pain for a condition that developed five days post-partum. (Pain worse than natural labor?) Although it is better now, she has been discharged, and she is on the mend, I had fleeting widower thoughts that were very discomfitting. (My discomfort was not so acute as to require narcotics, so I guess that's where we differ.)

Anyway, she is getting her first real rest in a week, and we will treat her royally in the days to come.

Shecky Monkey

The Monkey laughed at his first pun today -- a polyglot pun at that.

You first thing you have to know is that "shu shu" (?) is a Chinese term of respect addressed to a middle-aged males, possibly but not necessarily related. It means "uncle," but I first heard it applied to the "shu shu" who visits our house every day around 4:30pm and delivers items through the door slot, i.e. the USPS letter carrier. Then, "shu shu" meant every construction worker in our neighborhood -- of which there are many.

The second thing you need to know is that the Monkey has a wooden wheel loader, about 15" long, with a string figure driver. The wheel loader recently ceased to be the generic "scoop" in Monkeyspeak, and is now referrerd to as a "wheel loader" in the Monkey's increasingly refined speech (which distinguishes, for instance, "backhoe" and "bulldozer.") The driver is known, as befits a string construction worker, as "shu shu."

The third thing you need to know is that the Monkey typically wears bright yellow Crocs, plastic shoes with air holes in the tops.

It just so happened that I was tickling the Monkey's toes through his Crocs with the string figure wheel loader driver. So I said "shu shu shoe."

When he saw what I was getting at, he laughed like his dad just got hurt or something. (Tip to dads: pratfalls == comedy gold.) I mean, belly laughs. Guffaws. Requests for more. Tears in his eyes. That was a good one, dad..."Shu shu shoe," he says! Killing me!

It felt good to see him laugh so well.

Anyway, as the play progressed, it just so happend that a toy panda bear mauled the shu shu and drove away in the wheel loader. That made me laugh, and I think my right as a parent is to be entertained.

ALERT!!! EQUAL TREATMENT -- NO SIBLING RIVALRY -- SHARING OF ATTENTION REPORT!!!

The new baby had her first poo today. That's just as good as a first pun!

(It felt good to get that off my chest. I'm still meditating on what sibling preference must feel like as it's experienced by my own children.)

Resting

It is such a pleasure to lie in a darkened room holding my new daughter.

There is so much to do around the house, and the Monkey needs his Daddy at this critical time, so I rarely get the chance. And who knows if I will ever have the chance again to hold a three-day-old baby, especially my own?

As I reclined earlier tonight, she resting on my chest, my mind was free to roam to her future. I tried to see out to her horizon, but all I know for certain is that it stretches out beyond my own.

I was also free to rest and doze, and that's mostly what I did.

It's amazing to me how quiet everyone can be when they're trying not to wake the baby.

Also amazing:
- Doorbells ringing
- Dogs barking
- Monkeys crying
- Phones ringing
- Toilets flushing
etc. etc.

Don't take this as a suggestion not to call -- by telephone or in person. I don't think any of those sounds has ever startled the baby, even a full-on bark at the terrible intrusion of the USPS letter carrier.

It's just a matter of perception, like shouting into a stethoscope or looking at the sun.