Its Thursday night, about 3 weeks since I last wrote and I'm sitting in my living room, watching some soccer, relaxing. My faithful dog, Charlie, is at my feet. Its quiet, too quiet. It seems like forever since I've done this. Haven't felt like there was something looming, an impending event that I must be at the ready for. No need to keep my wits about me or decide what to do based on a schedule that has been laid out that limits you to an hour or two. So how is it that I'm without worry or care and able to be blogging?
My lovely bride (inside joke) and cutest son in the world are in Shreveport being pampered by an untold number of immediate and distant family members. They've been there since Tuesday, forced to flee Dallas because I was going to be out of town, and frankly Thomas is too much to handle for one person for more than 8 hours at a time. Not that Thomas is in anyway a problem child, or either of us incapable of handling parenthood (the jury is still out, but I'm confident we'll get a favorable ruling), but because Thomas is not ready to face the world and all of the associated germs, he is mostly home bound and therefore so is one of us. Being trapped in the house for extended periods of time, especially multiple days, is just too tough from a sanity standpoint. Fortunately, Rebecca's mom and my mom have been able to swoop in during the week to help out, but this week, that wasn't an option, so Rebecca loaded up every imaginable baby rearing object and Thomas made his first road trip. From all accounts, its been a roaring success. Thomas is a social butterfly and absolutely thrives on attention and lots of people around him. Rebecca thrives on not having complete responsibility for a little while. Its been win-win.
So, having gotten back into town tonight, I find myself alone. It is bliss, I must be honest. The last 6 weeks have been a trial. Limited sleep and even more limited freedom have tested Rebecca and me. I have discovered that I'm a much more selfish person than I thought. Giving up the things that make me happy has made me less happy. I'm disappointed in myself because Rebecca does accommodate my need to get out and exercise, but I find myself still wanting more. I sometimes feel like one of the kids staring out the window from the Cat in the Hat cartoon, only the Cat has yet to show up and outside my window, instead of rain, there is nothing but sunshine and people having the time of their lives. That is an adjustment that everyone who's been through this speaks about, but they really don't do a good enough job of grabbing your shoulders, staring into your eyes and telling you: " For the next 4 months, everything that seems like fun or was part of your day to day routine is gone, forget about it." Rebecca and I have talked about it, our conclusion is that moms have selective memories (otherwise there would probably be alot more families with only 1 child) and dads just keep their mouth shut so that other men join their ranks for commiseration.
I think I've sufficiently laid out a case for sympathy. And I wouldn't trade it in for anything. Of course there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that obnoxiously cute child that continually does really cool things that only parents can truly appreciate. Not to say that other people don't like seeing a child discovering the world, but its amazing the seemingly innocuous movements or normally unappealing bodily functions that get us excited.
The one thing that Rebecca and I both marvel at is how our moms possibly pulled off raising us.
Thomas is over 8 and a half pounds and at least 21 inches long as of last check (2 weeks ago). He is developing some meaty legs and getting some fat rolls. So things are progressing nicely. Since my last post, we've been to a doctor of some sort 4 times. Here's a retrospective of a couple of them.Last Monday afternoon: