Happy Birthday, Mom!

posted by Evan Jake at 4:54 PM

Mom, I know today is your birthday. I didn't get you a card, but I did make you present (see if you can find it).

I know nothing would make for a better birthday present than for me to let you sleep for more than three hours at a clip. But don't count on that happening tonight unless you plan to take me on a long car ride (I love car rides).

Happy birthday, mom!!

~:O

All About the Mall

posted by Evan Jake at 9:33 PM

Wow, what a big day.

First, the weather was beautiful so I got to go for another long walk around the neighborhood. Mom and dad were again pushing me up and down all those hills when they could just drive me. But later I did get to go on a car ride -- I love car rides -- to the mall!

I got pushed all around the mall into all these over-priced stores. Being in my stroller, we couldn't go up and down the steps or the moving stairs (man, those look like fun). Instead we had to take the elevator. I couldn't believe all the people that were trying to squeeze into this tiny elevator when the stairs are right there! Yes, there were other babies in strollers -- strollers that looked cooler than mine -- and people in chairs with wheels. But then there were all these perfectly normal looking people with two good legs trying to cram me out of the elevator. If anything, these people looked like they could benefit from a couple trips up and down the stairs. I'm allowed to be chubby because I'm a baby. But what's their excuse?

Anyway, once we got out of the elevator, mom had several gift cards to spend. So I got a new soft blanket and some more clothes. They looked so clean and fresh, I can't wait to spit up on them. Mom also went and got a new pair of jeans. It seems that having to feed me constantly and bounce me for hours at a time has made her grow out of all her clothes. While my clothes are getting too tight, hers are getting too loose!!

Then, suddenly I got a big surprise. There, walking down the mall were my bubbie and pop-pop!! Funny running into them, since they don't live close by. It was almost like it was planned! While mom and dad shopped some more, pop-pop pushed me around the mall. He showed me a shiny new Lexus he wanted. When I saw that car parked in the middle of the mall, I wondered why dad couldn't get a parking space that good. Dad spent half an hour roaming the parking garage cursing and looking for the perfect space.

As I was saying, my pop-pop drove me around a lot. He did a really good job. While he and I were hanging out, I can only imagine how lonely mom and dad were without me. But soon we all met up again and went back to the house. Everyone ate dinner together, except for me. Even though I'd had my own dinner a few minutes earlier, I was jealous. So I cried the whole time they were trying to eat.

For good measure I kept crying for the next two hours until bubbie and pop-pop finally left. But I like my bubbie and pop-pop and I didn't want mom and dad to think that I was crying because of them. So I kept crying even more just on principle. Phew. All that crying. What a workout. It made me so tired, all I could do was cry! Now all I want to do it sleep. If only I weren't so tired...

~:O

The Camera Adds 5 Ounces

posted by Evan Jake at 7:07 PM

I'm not fat! I'm just photogenic!!

My bubbie looks at pictures of me and says I'm getting chubby. Yes, I'm gaining weight at a healthy clip, but I'm not chubby! In fact, the doctor said last week that I'm in the 50th percentile of weight for babies my age. I'm not very good at math yet, but I think that means there are at least 50 babies fatter than me!

Yes, I like to eat. It's my second favorite activity after car rides. (I love car rides.) But don't just look at my pictures and call me chubby. After all, like they always say, the camera adds five pounds -- and I only weigh ten!

~:O

Diaper Bulk

posted by Evan Jake at 8:02 PM

Yesterday, mom and dad took me on another long walk. But first we went for a car ride. Wow, I love car rides. After we got out of the car, mom and dad didn't put me in my usual stroller. No, instead I got plopped down on a large cart with four small wheels. The ride wasn't nearly as smooth as my stroller. One of the wheels barely touched the ground, just spinning around in random directions. The whole cart jiggled a lot. But to tell you the truth, I actually liked it!

At first, I didn't know why mom and dad needed this big cart. My diaper bag isn't that heavy, surely they can just carry it. From the car, mom and dad wheeled me into this really big building with lots of people and lots and lots of stuff! Mom and dad said it was a store. But it looked more like a warehouse to me.

Mom and dad pushed me up and down all these aisles taking things off the shelves and putting them into my cart. They got large bottles of soap, juice and kitty litter. They also got this huge jar of peanut butter that was bigger than me!

Then they went down an aisle with all these baby things. I've never seen so many diapers and wipes. It was amazing. All the boxes had pictures of babies on them, but none of them were nearly as cute as me! Dad picked out an enormous box of diapers. "Wow, look how many diapers are in this box," dad said in amazement. "Evan Jake, you could poop 15 times a day until you're 20 years old and never run out of diapers!" Well, at the rate I'm going, that is a possibility. It's comforting to know I'm covered just in case.

While mom and dad were picking out all these bulk-sized items, I wanted to remind them that our house isn't that big. I know where all this stuff is going to wind up getting piled: next to my crib -- even the kitty litter.

When mom and dad were finished walking up and down all the aisles, they took everything out of the cart and placed it on this cool moving table. It looked like fun and I wished I had gotten to go for a ride on it. They could've just slid me right down!

Now, what I didn't understand was, everything that was taken out of the cart, moved down the belt and was placed back into my cart at the end. This seemed like a real waste of time. I wish we could have just skipped that step (but still give me a ride on the moving table, of course).

We went back out to the car, loaded it up with the giant packages of diapers and peanut butter and drove away. It was good to be in the car again. While the cart was fun, I still love car rides the best.

When we got home, I was really glad to be back. I had fun at the big store, but I was really tired. Once mom and dad finally got me and all the things they got inside, I took a long-needed nap in my crib. I guess I better get used to the big boxes of diapers and kitty litter in my room. It's going to be a long time before all that gets used up! I just hope the diapers don't run out before the kitty litter, if you know what I mean.

~:O

Everybody's Smiling (Sunshine Day)

posted by Evan Jake at 4:15 PM

With the weather being so warm, I've gotten to go on a few walks outside. A rare treat for a winter baby like me.

Usually when I go outside, it's so cold that mom dresses me up in many layers of the clothing. I'll have my usual outfit on and then mom will put my little hoodie on over that. Then I might even get a hat and big coat, too. It's so many layers of material my arms usually stick straight out to the sides. But not today. Today it was so warm, I got to go out in just my regular clothes. If my bubbie was there, she would have told mom that I wasn't dressed right.

So mom and dad broke out the stroller and took me on a really long walk all the way through the neighborhood. The stroller is pretty cool. Sometimes I fall asleep in there. But I don't understand why mom and dad would want to push me around, up and down all those hills, when they could just drive me around in the car. I love car rides!

This stroller is really quite a contraption. It's got big wheels, latches, belts, cup holders, baskets and neoprene grips. It's pretty fancy. It's more of a complete "travel system" than a stroller if you ask me. All it's missing really are aluminum alloy wheels, side airbags and a navigation system. They probably make one like that, but I'm sure dad can't afford it on his salary.

It was such a nice day, there were a lot of people walking around outside. Some people were running and some were just sitting there. I saw lots of people with their babies. Only these babies were big, had four legs and were on a leash. I'm glad I wasn't on a leash. I like the stroller much better. Then I would watch as the babies would make their business in the grass and their moms and dads would pick it up for them. That's a great idea. I hate messing in my diaper. It would be so much easier if mom and dad would just pick it up out of the grass for me. Now if I can only figure out how to undo all of those clips and latches and climb out of that stroller!

~:O

I'm Losing My Hair!

posted by Evan Jake at 11:39 PM

Telogen effluvium? Alopecia areata? Call it what you will. I'm going bald!

My acne has finally cleared up. My cradle cap is going away. But now I'm losing my hair. It's one insult after another.

I was born with some beautiful dark locks. My hair was so long in the back, it hung over my collar. Mom and dad have been calling it my baby mullet. So what's a mullet? I also heard from mom and dad that they were even able to see my hair on one of those ultrasound pictures before I was born.

Okay, let me just take this opportunity to say that while those ultrasound sessions may have been a lot of fun for mom and dad, they were no picnic for me. For half an hour I was pushed, jabbed and poked by that probe-thingy. Can I say, "ow?" And after all that, you only got to see those blurry little pictures? What a waste.

Anyway, back to my hair! This is so distressing. Everyday, more and more hair drops off my cute little head. The more hair that falls out, the more I worry. The more I worry, the more hair that falls out! And of course, the more I cry!! It seems that over the next month or so, I could lose all my hair. Imagine how much I'll cry then! I can't even think about it. That would be terrible. I bet mom and dad would wind up losing their hair, too. At least we'll be even.

I'm still crying a lot. But I am learning to soothe myself with my new friend the pacifier -- or "paci" as mom and dad affectionately refer to it. Sometimes it falls out and onto the floor. But mom and dad just pick it up and stick it right back in my mouth. The other day, I saw one of our cats puke on that same floor and lick it up. So for all I know, precious "paci" is rolling around in cat mess and going right back into my mouth! Yuck! Yet when I spit up on dad, he immediately changes his clothes and washes his hands for five minutes.

I know there are a lot of theories about whether or not pacifiers are good for babies. The arguments are all interesting and valid. I'd be interested to hear more about them. But at this moment, I'd appreciate it if you please shut it and gave me back my "paci" now before I scream!!

So the one thing about the hair loss I do appreciate is that the first hair to go were the weird patches on my forehead, shoulders and back. It seemed to be an odd place for a baby to have hair anyway. People were always commenting on it. "Oh, look at the cute little fuzz on his shoulders!" Translation: "Ooh, your baby has weird hair on his shoulders?!" Hopefully it won't be until I'm walking on a beach 30 to 40 years from now that I hear remarks about my back hair again!

~:O

The "C" Word

posted by Evan Jake at 8:33 PM

Yes, it's that dirty word. The "C" word.

Colic.

What is it? Excessive, unexplainable, unsoothable crying.

What causes it? Nobody knows.

What cures it? Nothing.

Do I have colic? I don't really care what you call it.

Yes, the last couple of weeks, I've been very fussy. And the last couple days have been particularly bad. I cried and screamed so much last night, I didn't even have time to update my blog!

Starting around 8pm last night I just started wailing. I cried and cried until 10pm. Then until midnight. Mom and dad got so frustrated they took my on a car ride. I love car rides! I slept the whole time. But as soon as I got home, I was up and crying again. Finally around 1:30 in the morning I felt I'd had enough and took a short nap. Now I keep hearing mom and dad use the "c" word when they talk about me.

Mom did some research, talked to my doctor and read many, many baby bulletin boards. She thinks maybe I have an allergy to milk. Can you believe that? A baby allergic to milk? I love milk! Milk's my favorite!! But I guess it's only cow's milk. And only when mom drinks it. It doesn't make any sense to me, but whatever. I'm open to anything if it makes me stop crying.

Personally, I think the internet is a dangerous place for inexperienced first-time parents. Every time something seems to bother me, the first thing they do is run to the computer. All they do is worry about my positional plagiocephaly, capillary hemangioma or my noncommunicating hydrocele. Of course these are all benign and normal newborn conditions. But all they can do is sweat over them. (Although one does start to wonder just how many benign conditions it takes to make up one that's harmful.)

The good news is that I'm really getting to practice crying. I've got a really good shriek going. It hits ear-piercing decibels. Sometimes, my crying gets so loud, it hurts my ears and makes me cry even more. Then mom starts to cry. And dad, too. Their crying only makes me cry even louder. The louder I cry, the more it hurts my ears, the louder I cry...well you get the point. It's like a vicious cycle.

They say colic is at its worst at six weeks of age. So I've got one more week to go. I don't know how I can get much worse than this, but I guess I'll have to give it a try.

Okay, here I go, hold your ears...

~:O

I'm Fit to be Printed!

posted by Evan Jake at 10:29 PM

This article in Sunday's The New York Times describes the odd behavior of parents choosing domain names and e-mail addresses for their babies. These babies must not be very smart if they can't do it themselves. The day I came home from the hospital, I registered my e-mail address and blog domain all on my own. Since then, I've had no problem keeping up with all my electronic correspondence and online journal entries without assistance from mom or dad. I really don't see why other babies aren't capable of the same. There must be something wrong with them.

What really annoyed me about the article is that the baby web sites they link to as examples are really bad! One of them isn't even active!! When there is such high-quality baby blogging going on right here at diaperlogue, I'm astonished this blog is not more widely recognized by the established mainstream media.

I encourage you, my loyal readers, to write a letter to the editor of The New York Times and tell them about my unremarkable adventures as described on diaperlogue. As an added incentive, if your letter about diaperlogue gets published in The Times, I'll enter your name into a drawing to be eligible to win a free t-shirt from the Official Diaperlogue Online Store! [Offer open to US residents only. Void where prohibited.]

Now, before you go shooting off letters to the editor, I do feel obligated to tell you that this e-memoir may, at times, depict incidents that are not entirely truthful. This may not come as a great surprise to some of you, but avoiding another James Frey-type incident would be in everyone's best interest. I guess I shouldn't have much to worry about, though, given the Times' record on fact-checking.

When writing your letter, be sure to point out that diaperlogue draws visitors from around the globe. On a daily basis, up to one-third of diaperlogue's visitors are international! (Hola, ni hao, konichiwa and g'day!) And this site has loyal readers from coast-to-coast. (Hello, howdy, yo and how you doin'!) Plus, I'm really, really cute. Don't forget to tell them how cute I am and how much I love car rides!

Thanks for helping to stick it to the man!

~:O

Thirty-One Days and Counting

posted by Evan Jake at 10:52 PM

Mom and dad wanted to celebrate my little milestone today. But I see absolutely no reason to celebrate.

It's been a month since that terrible day when I was evicted from the warm security of mom's womb. Bathed in plush surroundings and soothed by the motions of mom going about her daily life, those nine months were pure bliss. Today, I'm lucky if I get wrapped up in a synthetic blanket and bounced on dad's knee until I spit up.

Here in the outside world, all I really have to look forward to is messy diapers, baby acne, post-mealtime gassiness and these darned hic...these darn...hic...these darned hiccups! You'd think that mom and dad, now month-long veterans of parenting, would be a bit more confident and clued-in to my needs than they were the day I arrived. However, I'm fearful they may have regressed and are worse now than when they started. At least right after I was born, they were quick to see to my every cry and whimper. But with exhaustion appearing to set in, I can now wail for several minutes and not even get noticed. Yesterday, I cried myself to sleep before either of them came in to check on me. This is not a good omen.

Okay, there have been a couple unbelievably exciting developments since that dreadful day a month ago. Like when the stump from my umbilical cord dried out and fell off. Wow, that was a special moment. Someone call Reader's Digest. Oh, I also graduated from the newborn diapers to the next size up. Talk about progress. Actually, I think mom and dad just ran out of the smaller diapers and didn't bother to restock. The new ones are still too big on me and a lot of the time my poop leaks out one of the legs or smears up my back. That's a treat. My only solace is that mom and dad are then the ones that have to clean it all up and get me into fresh clothes.

Meanwhile, I still can't lift my head. I have little control over my limbs. My only two forms of communication are crying and louder crying. I can't get more than two hours sleep at a time. And I've got a touch of diaper rash. Plus, these hiccups just won't go away!

I guess I shouldn't complain too much. The outside world does have some advantages. In the last month I did get to meet lots of nice people, like my bubbie and pop-pop, my uncle and aunt and of course my great-grandmother (we call her mom-mom-mom). Mom-mom-mom is the coolest, and I can't wait to see her again. In addition to my family coming over, lots of cool friends came over, too, and brought me gifts -- most of which I still can't wear or play with yet. But I'll get there. I liked most of the people that came over to visit. Except that mohel guy. He is still on my dirty diaper list.

Mom and dad said that in the next month I should start sleeping more. That will be nice for me. I just hope mom and dad don't get lonely or bored without me in the middle of the night. Mom has also promised to take me out more. I know what that means -- more car rides! That's all I needed to hear.

So I guess we'll see what unremarkable adventures the next month will bring. Thanks for continuing to tune into my blog to watch my progress, even though it's slow at times. I hope things start getting a little more interesting soon. Both for my sake and for yours!

~:O

Yawn

posted by Evan Jake at 10:16 PM

No, I won't smile. So stop asking.

Mom and dad were told that babies are supposed to smile between four and six weeks of age. I turned four weeks old on Wednesday and ever since, mom and dad have been in my grill insisting that I give them a smile.

They tickle my chin and make funny voices. They push up the corners of my mouth (ouch!). They beg and plead relentlessly. "Give us a smile. Where's a smile? Are you going to smile for us?" Fat chance.

What have they given me to smile about? I'm cooped up in this tiny place all day long. I can't get a decent night's sleep. I have acne and cradle cap. I've never met Cal Ripken, Jr. I don't go on nearly enough car rides (I love car rides!) And I am very, very gassy. So I cry. And I fuss. And my parents are totally and utterly clueless as to why.

Truth is, I can smile just fine. I smile all the time when I'm alone in my crib or in my bouncy chair and no one is looking. I'll smile to myself at 4:15am when I know mom and dad are sound asleep and I'm about to wake them up with my "crying."

But yesterday, there was a bit of a slip up. I made a really, really big poop. It felt so good. Smelled bad, felt good. I'd been working on it for at least 20 minutes. When it finally made it's way into my diaper, I was so content, I let a little smile slip out. It was purely by accident. And Mom caught a peek of it. My secret was out. She called dad over right away.

"Come quick! He's smiling a little bit." Dad came over and looked.

"Oh, it's just gas," dad said.

Actually, this one wasn't gas. It was a genuine, albeit accidental, smile. Dad indulged mom and went and got the camera. By the time he came back with the camera, I was finished smiling. He looked so disappointed. Then I realized that smiling could be a great new way to amuse myself.

Now, when mom holds me, I'll give her a tiny, tiny grin. She'll call over dad with the camera. By the time he comes over and gets the shot lined up, I'll have a good cry worked up instead. Dad is getting lots of pictures of me screaming, but no smiles! Wait, it gets better. Dad will hover over me with the camera waiting for me to smile again. He'll stand there for like ten or fifteen minutes. He's persistent. But eventually he gets impatient and gives up. I'll wait for him to put the lens cap back on and then I'll sneak out a little smile. He'll fumble to quickly snap a photo. But he won't get it. He'll never get it. Ha!

Now that is something to smile about.

~:O

It's Hard Being So Cute

posted by Evan Jake at 7:49 PM

I can rightfully claim myself the cutest baby in the world. Literally.

People from all around the globe -- from Los Angeles to the Florida Pan Handle and from Singapore to Brazil -- visit this humble blog and comment on how completely and unabashedly adorable I am. My bright eyes flash intelligence and my wispy dark hair sighs debonair. And until a few days ago, my skin glowed, my cheeks blushed and my dimples reduced even the most jaded skeptics to blubbering fools.

Then came the acne.

At just a few weeks of age, my face has suddenly erupted with dozens of bright red spots dotting my previously supple complexion. Dad held me up in front of a mirror the other day and I gasped in horror looking at myself. I started to cry. Well, it was already one of my many daily scheduled "fussy times," so tears were inevitable. Plus, I like to cry whenever dad picks me up. I think it's giving him a complex.

Anyway, mom and dad read in one of their baby instruction manuals that infant acne is normal and affects about fifty percent of all babies in their first month. Great. There I go being average again. Maybe my acne will get so bad it can be a case study for a medical journal or something. Then I wouldn't be so average.

But wait, it gets worse! A couple days later, my head grew this scaly, flaky skin all over. Mom and dad looked in their books again and read that this weird affliction, called cradle cap, is very common. So now I've gone from being the cutest baby in the world to being common. They also read that cradle cap doesn't itch and doesn't bother babies. How do they know? Did they ask me? Well, let me tell you, if I had enough control over my arms -- or any fine motor skills for that matter -- I'd be scratching like a fiend. If you had scales all over your scalp, you'd scratch them, too, wouldn't you? At the very least, you'd be picking at it all day.

Apparently, one mildly effective treatment for cradle cap is more frequent bathing. That stinks because because I really don't like baths. Too bad you can't treat cradle cap with more frequent car rides. Because I love car rides.

Instead, here I am, the world's cutest baby, with bright red acne and a moster case of dandruff. We used to have lots and lots of visitors coming over to hold me and say how beautiful I am. Suddenly, mom and dad stopped inviting people over. And remember all those thousands of photographs dad had been popping in my face? They suddenly stopped, too. Now when I open my eyes, I'm discovering that the world is not covered in big purple spots.

Meanwhile, mom is dressing me in hooded sweatshirts and dark colors to deemphasize my face. And all the lights in the house are being kept unusually dim. Needless to say, this is really putting a dent in my self-image.

According to the books, the pimples should clear up soon (they're already fading) and so will the cradle cap (oh, how I wish I could scratch my head). Then I will surely return to my incredibly adorable self and restore my claim as the cutest baby on earth!

~:O

Batteries Not Included

posted by Evan Jake at 8:27 AM

Apparently I sleep less than the average newborn. A lot less. But I think I make up for this by crying more than the average newborn. So that should even everything out, right?

Since I'm awake so much, mom and dad are always looking for different ways to occupy me. But really I think they just get sick of holding me and are looking to put me down and forget about me. So they keep trying to pawn me off on all these battery-powered devices. Our living room is now a minefield of plastic swings, vibrating chairs and bouncing doo-dads. You'd think that dad invested my college fund in Fischer Price and Duracell.

They can pump all the D-cell batteries they want into those baby neglecters. Eventually they'll realize that I will accept no substitute for being held in their arms. If they don't realize it, my constant and frantic wailing will surely get the point across. I'll even waggle and flail my arms around for added affect. I'm not afraid pull out my secret weapon, either: the quivering bottom lip. I give that lower jaw a little shake and it's pretty irresistable.

Don't get me wrong. These gadgets look very cool. And I know mom and dad must love the way the multi-colored molded plastic brightens up the living room. But if given the choice of being predictably bounced back and forth in a mechanical chair or carried on dad's shoulder around the house, which do you think I'll choose? A couple of times, I've even suckered dad into putting me in my car seat and swinging me around the room. What an amazing ride. Now I'll never want to go back to that automatic swing ever again!

Let's not forget about the musical entertainment either. All these chairs and swings play those terrible little jingles plinked out on lousy little speakers. It's just awful. Mom can't sing a lick and she has a tin ear. But I'll still opt for her singing me a sweet lullaby over that electronic stuff any day.

But sure enough, mom and dad are really persistent when it comes to putting me down. If the chairs and swings don't work, they'll plop me down on top of the washing machine or the clothes dryer. This is confusing. Are they expecting me to fall asleep or do their laundry? Will I be expected to fluff and fold, too? If I have an aversion to doing wash later in life, they can only blame themselves.

Look, guys. If you want to put me down, you should know what to do by now. If you've ever read my blog, you'd see it's somewhat of a recurring theme. That's right, a car ride! I'll go right to sleep. Because I love car rides!

~:O

Instructions Not Included

posted by Evan Jake at 2:09 PM

It's true that us babies don't come with instructions. They're sold separately.

After this week's fiasco at the doctor's, mom and dad decided to go out and get a few baby manuals. I think they realized that their parenting ignorance was only contributing to the sky-rocketing health insurance premiums in this country and that spending a few dollars on some books about how to properly take care of me was the socially responsible thing to do. That's right, my first-time parents actually went out and bought a clue!

During my meals, dad has been sitting next to mom and reading to her from these baby instruction books. Personally, I think his time is better used cleaning the house or working overtime to pay for my college. Instead, I have to listen to him read aloud from these books and hear him chuckle every time he comes to a word like "breast" or "nipple."

The first book dad read from was called "Baby Wise." It's all about how I need to eat on a regimented schedule. The process is called PDF, or parent-directed feeding. According to this book, mom should tell me when it's time to eat. That's rich. You try that stuff on me and I'll introduce you to something I call BIR, or baby-inflicted regret. You'll wish you'd never messed with me. You'll wind up crying more than I do!

Another book was called "The Happiest Baby on the Block." Hey, dad, why only the happiest baby on the block? We're not setting a very high standard here, are we? I'm often told I'm the cutest baby in the world! So shouldn't I be the happiest baby in the world, too?

So this book was telling mom and dad to calm me down using these things called the "Five S's." Now, whenever I cry, they try these techniques on me and it usually goes something like this:

1. Swaddling: I get wrapped up really tight in a blanket, pinning my arms to my side. Naturally, this makes me want to wiggle and scream.
   
2. Stomach: With my arms pinned down, I get flipped on my stomach. Of course, I still have little control over my giant head and I usually wind up bumping my nose on something, causing me to scream even louder.
   
3. Swaying: This just makes me nauseated. As if I don't spit up enough on my own.
   
4. Shushing: Wrapped up, on my stomach, nose bruised and ready to barf, now I get these really annoying shushing sounds made directly into my ear! Since I can't shush them back yet, I have to resort to screaming even louder.
   
5. Sucking: The "icing on the cake," I then get a pacifier crammed in my mouth. Yes, my mouth is open because I'm screaming! That's not an invitation to jam a rubber thing in there. It only makes me gag!
   

Hey, guys, you want to keep me from crying? I'll tell you how to calm me down in one simple step: Take me on a car ride. I love car rides!

The last book dad has been reading from is called "What to Expect the First Year." As the title suggests, this book talks about what it will be like living with me for the coming year. All I can say is, I'm sure glad they didn't read this book 10 months ago.

~:O

Don't Mess with Me, I'm Crabby

posted by Evan Jake at 10:21 PM

Man, did I have a bad day.

Last night I tossed and turned for hours. I just couldn't seem to get any rest. Maybe it was something mom ate, but I was up every hour and man was I ticked. Plus my diaper leaked, the footies on my PJs got twisted around backwards and my pacifier tasted like dish soap. Could life get any worse? Luckily mom kept getting up and checking on me every time I shrieked for her, but there really wasn't anything she could do to help. Although I did wonder where dad was during all this. Could he really manage to sleep through all my torment?

Being totally sleep-deprived, I was even grouchier this morning. It seemed the sleepier I got, the harder it was to sleep. That ever happen to you? Ugh, I just wanted to cry. And cry I did!

Well, by the afternoon I think mom was totally freaked. She got so worried something was seriously wrong with me that she called the doctor. The doctor agreed to see me right away. I didn't really want to go to the doctor, but I realized what this meant. A car ride. And I love car rides!

So mom picked up the phone and called dad at work. Dad eagerly offered to cut off work and come home in the middle of the afternoon just to take us all to the doctor. No wonder that job doesn't pay him much, if he's always taking half days. How bad his job must be, if he volunteered to leave only to deal with me and my crying!

I was so excited to go on a car ride, I fell asleep just thinking about it. And boy, did I need to sleep! I slept so soundly that I don't even remember getting in the car or going into the doctor's office. (Walking into the medical building, I wonder if dad bumped into any other famous baseball players that he didn't introduce me to.)

Next thing I know, I woke up on a paper sheet with a stranger touching my delicates. Phew, it was just the doctor -- I was afraid it was another one of those mohels! My doctor is a nice lady. But for someone with a medical degree, she still talks to me in that silly voice, just like everyone else.

The doctor asked mom what was wrong with me. Mom explained that I seemed "fussy" and had been crying all day. The doctor said that it's normal for me to cry and it doesn't mean anything is wrong. What does she know? She should come live with us for a day and then tell me there's nothing wrong. Look at these two people I'm stuck with! Rushing me to the doctor over a little crying. These people are totally neurotic! But the doctor said its okay because all new parents are allotted one unnecessary visit. But only one!

The doctor also said that newborn babies cry an average of three-hours a day. Only three hours? Well, no one is going to call me average. So, as of today, I'm implementing a new program. The objective will be to increase my crying to nine hours a day, triple the national average, by the end of the week. I'll show them who's average.

Before the doctor finished her spiel, I drifted peacefully back to sleep (despite mom's desperate pleas to convince the doctor I really was being very fussy an hour ago). Man, did it feel good to finally sleep. I didn't wake up again until we were back home. Yes, the trip to the doctor may have been totally unnecessary. And the doctor indulged mom and dad's neuroses this one time. I just wish I hadn't slept through the car rides.

~:O

He's Just a Working Stiff

posted by Evan Jake at 8:45 PM

I somehow came to believe that I had been born into a family of privilege, wealth and power. This seems not to be the case. Not even close.

This morning dad got up earlier than usual. And by earlier, I mean 8 am instead of his usual noontime. He then put on these fancy pants and a nice shirt. I hadn't seen dad dressed quite this nice before -- except for maybe my bris. I was so tempted to pee or puke on dad's nice clothes, but he was in such a rush, I hardly had the opportunity!

Rushing around, he picked up some papers under his arm, kissed both me and mom on the forehead and left.

Mom said, "Dad's gone to work now. It's just you and me kid for the rest of the day."

What's this about work? Dad has a job? Since I got home almost three weeks ago, I hadn't seen him do a lick of work except make a cold meal for mom, vacuum the living room at 3 am during one of my cyring fits and drive me to the doctor (I love car rides). Apparently dad has to work at this job to keep earning money. Something about a mortgage and my college tuition. He's already saving for my college? That job must not pay very much.

So instead I got to spend all day with mom. I like her so much more anyway. I know mom and I would have a great time. We listened to some music. Not that boring classical stuff like dad plays. No, we listened to alternative rock instead. I'm not sure I know what regular rock is, so I don't see what makes this alternative. But I liked it anyway.

Then I had a snack with mom and took a nap.

When I woke up, we watched some TV. Mom had on HGTV. She watched some redecorating shows. I noticed that some of the homes they were decorating had stairs -- on the inside. Our home doesn't have any stairs. It also doesn't look as nice as those homes on TV. Those homes had a lot of rooms. Stainless steel kitchens. Flat-screen TVs. And there weren't baby toys and dirty diapers scattered everywhere. I'm starting to think maybe my home isn't as nice as some. I think I got totally gypped here.

But then I got sleepy and took another nap.

Not too long after I woke up, dad came home. He said he only wanted to work a half day so that he could come home and see me. That's nice, dad. But maybe you should work a little harder and get us a nice house. One with stairs.

~:O

Nothing to See Here

posted by Evan Jake at 5:51 PM

Yes, I spent the last nine months suspended in fluid. Therefore, you might assume that a relaxing bath in warm water would remind me of my halcyon days in the womb, soothing me into a blissful baby euphoria.

You would be wrong.

Do I look blissful? Do I look euphoric? Most definitely not. So why take my picture?



Thanks, dad. At least you cropped my personal affects out of the photo. This will be much appreciated when shown to my adolescent friends many years from now.

~:O

Happy New Year?

posted by Evan Jake at 12:01 AM

What's all this about a new year? I'm only 2 1/2 weeks old! I mean, I can't believe it's 2006 already. This year just flew by!

Twenty-aught-five was a pretty big year for me: I was conceived; I gestated for over nine months; I got born; and I didn't meet Cal Ripken, Jr. It's pretty hard to top that. But I'll do my best in 2006. So here goes...my goals and resolutions for the coming year!

• Hold my head up all by myself: Quite a feat when you consider how big my head is compared to my body, you know.
  
• Learn to smile on my own and not have people think it's just gas: Not to imply I won't continue to be a very gassy baby.
  
• Say my first word, "Hammersla": There's money in this for me...don't ask.
  
• Roll over, stand up and take a few wobbly steps on my own: Those steps will be toward the door, I guarantee it.
  
• Eat solid food: Although I heard mom and dad bemoaning how there won't be any more nice steak for dinner. I wonder what that's all about.
  
• Meet Cal Ripken, Jr.: For real this time, dad!
  
• Stay awake for more than 10 seconds on a car ride: I love car rides!
  
• Sleep through the night: What's a baby got to do to get a decent night of sleep around here?!
  
• Get potty trained: Parents can dream, right?
  
• Mess myself no more than once a day: A baby can dream, right?
  
• Start an exercise program: And stick with it this time!
  

and of course...

• Gain triple my body weight: How many people get to make that New Year's resolution?!
  

Happy 2006!

~:O