No blanket for you!

Gina and I have both had vivid, waking dreams where we bolt up in bed and throw back the covers, convinced that Ryan’s under them. We’re guessing it’s from the few times Gina breast fed the baby in bed. After the first few scary incidents, I trained myself to check Ryan’s crib before I got alarmed. But the other night I was back at it, convinced he was in there with us. 

It’s purely irrational thinking we would ever sleep with the baby. For one thing, it’s not a safe thing to do. Plus, Gina’s a cover hog. Ryan would be lucky to get any blanket with her wrapped in them like a burrito.

Hi everybody! I’m your new ruler

Here’s Lil’ Star in the control center of his baby spider walker, waving bye to mommy before he demolishes the town. Don’t let his friendliness fool you: he’s got two new top front teeth!

eX Box

My Xbox 360 has died on me again. Here we see it suffering the dread Red Rings Of Death (RROD), the aptly-named system display which means the `Box has fried. Apparently Microsoft rushed the 360’s to market knowing they had a tendency to do so. I know, inconceivable! Microsoft would never put out a product that had bugs! At any rate, Game Informer magazine ran a recent poll in which 54.2 percent of respondents had experienced hardware failures with their 360’s, a figure which, amazingly, Microsoft has yet to dispute.

In my case, I’ve had the same 360 fail twice. The first time it was still within its three year warranty, and Microsoft “repaired” it in a relatively quick and painless fashion. But now my 360 has the lovely RROD again, and I’m being told that I have to pay $99 to fix it. I called customer service to argue that the first repair was defective, and they assured me they “made a note” to not charge my account. But when I went back online (the only way to submit a repair), they were still going to charge my card for the $99. Let’s hear it for customer service! If I didn’t have so much money sunk into games for my 360, I’d buy a PS3 instead.

So to anyone considering buying an Xbox 360, please take my advice: buy something that is reliable and that the manufacturer stands behind if it isn’t. In my experience, the Xbox 360 scores 0 for 2 on that front.

What to expect when your baby’s expectorating

Gina and I often debate about whether Ryan’s spitting or throwing up. Gina uses the two interchangeably, whereas I’m more of a connoisseur. I define spit-up as a minor nuisance that’s easily wiped off, whereas throw-up (also see: vomit) is more about distance, volume and speed. So although Gina will usually say that the baby “spit up,” she’ll occasionally get carried away and say he vomited. At which point I’ll ask the usual questions: how far and how much? A little gurgle’s to be expected. A gusher could be a problem.

I’m all about the denotation of regurgitation. Ryan was having his morning bottle when I held him up to me, and he spewed formula like a fire hose directly down my shirt. It had the distance, it had the speed, and believe me, it had the volume. There was no doubt about that one. Vomit all the way.

Daddy the hairy moose

Ryan’s favorite book is called Who Do You Love? Each page has a bear with a cut-out tummy that’s made of a different material. He isn’t too interested in the bears with smooth bellies, but he loves the mangy ones, like the bear who feels like carpeting or the one that’s a fur coat.

I was giving Ryan his bottle and placed him on my chest to burp him. Ryan felt my V-neck shirt and then my hairy chest. He was fascinated by the difference and kept going back and forth. Gina walked by, saw what Ryan was doing, and said “It’s just like the book!”

Not exactly. None of the bears in the book are turning gray.

The barber strikes back

Ryan’s first haircut prompted him to take a swing at his barber, so we were a little wary when we sat him down for a repeat performance. Aunt Sue, the stylist, was lured to our home with the promise of a free meal, and over her strenuous objections we handed her the clippers. Her patient was tethered to his highchair in diapers and a T-shirt while Sue was instructed to take some off the top and clean up around Ryan’s ears.

The baby rebelled against Sue’s attempts to comb his wild ‘do, so she had to freestyle, swiping the clippers in time with his random weaves. Lil’ Star was scared of the buzzing and worked his way up to tears, turning bright red when I held his head still for Sue to finish his sides. She trimmed around his one ear before Ryan went ballistic. I pronounced the haircut over a few strokes short of the end.

Sue’s son Chris fed Ryan his first serving of bananas, a sentimental moment as Gina used to shovel them down baby Chris. Afterward, Ryan, now shirtless and slobbery, snuggled with his barber, who left with the rocking chair my recliner bumped from the nursery. Except for the tears, a pleasant evening. Until Ryan threw up the bananas.

Victory!

The living room project’s complete! Here’s me and Lil’ Star celebrating in front of the new drapes. I think I’ve had enough of extreme makeovers for at least another ten years.

Rookie mistake

The beauty of thinking about having more kids is that you’re reasonably confident you might know what you’re doing with the second one. No more calling the pediatrician at 3 a.m. when they spit up their milk. Or having your wife wonder how she’ll know when her water breaks (you’ll know.) Or, I don’t know, broiling your bundled-up baby to get a booger out.

The later happened this past winter, when Ryan was no more than a month. His breathing was raspy from some crusty mucous that Gina and I spied up his nose. The bulb syringe couldn’t get it, but I recalled something I’d read.

“Where are you going?” Gina said.

“To the bathroom.”

“With the baby?”

“I’m going to run the shower to try to loosen his mucous up.”

Proud of my parental knowledge, I sequestered the boys in the bathroom. I shut the door with the shower running. The room promptly steamed up. Ryan did not seem to be getting relief. If anything, he was sluggish. Perhaps it was the wool pajamas that daddy left him in.

“It didn’t work,” I told Gina, returning with our beet-red baby. Gina came to a new appreciation of how a good idea goes bad.

“You left him in that?”

I looked down at the baby and made the connection.

“Uh…”

Like I said, live and learn. That’s the kind of mistake I won’t make if we have another kid. Clearly, the proper approach calls for the vacuum’s crevice tool.

The big decision

A few weeks ago Gina breached the topic of having another baby. Neither of us wanted Ryan to be an only child, and since Lil’ Star’s been such a blessing it seemed like it should be an easy decision. But me being me, I was worried about whether we could afford another baby (or possibly two, as twins run strong on both sides of our families.) We weren’t exactly living large before the baby came, and lately things have been much tighter. Plus, the economy stinks. Stopping with Ryan would have been a practical decision.

But I don’t think it would have been the right one. If every parent based having more children on whether they thought they could afford them, there’d be a lot less kids running around (and I might have been one of them!) So after prayerful consideration (although I didn’t need much convincing,) today I asked Gina if she wanted to try to have another baby.

Okay God, it’s in your hands. Let’s see what you’ve got planned!

Slow cooker

Here’s a recipe Ryan and I made while Gina was at work.

STUFFED PEPPERS, DADDY STYLE

4 green peppers
1 pound gr. beef
1/4 cup onion
1 1/2 tsp. salt
1 can tomato sauce
2 cups cooked rice
1 20 lb. baby
1 ring toy, blue
1 ring toy, yellow
1 froggy rattle
1 bowl rice cereal
1 container squash

Place baby in highchair with two donut rings and rattle. Cut green peppers in half. Pick yellow ring off floor and hand to baby. Rinse green pepper halves. Pick blue ring off floor and hand to baby. Prepare rice in separate pot. Pick rattle off floor and remove from baby.

Place green pepper halves in glass dish. Pick blue and yellow rings off floor and hand to baby. In bowl, mix ground beef, cooked rice . . . pick blue ring off floor and hand to baby. Wipe spit up off baby’s bib. Add half can of tomato sauce, salt, and onion to beef and rice mixture in progress. Pick blue and yellow rings off of floor and set aside on counter. Spoon beef mixture into pepper halves. Let baby simmer in highchair.

Spoon remaining tomato sauce onto pepper halves. Transfer baby to bouncy chair. Cover peppers with tinfoil and bake for one hour at 350°. Feed baby squash and cereal. Wait for wife to get home.

Serves three (plus leftovers.)