Year One, Month Three Musings

Vacation. Having survived (again, I think this is absolutely the most appropriate term) our first vacation with Jackson, KB and I ventured off this past month for our first vacation WITHOUT Jackson. Going into it, there were a number of things to be concerned about. Would Jackson be okay without us? Would we be okay without Jackson? What if we both died in a horrible plane crash? Having dealt with the last item before we left by coming up with a list of life lessons for the Monk on the Blog (which totally seems like a waste of time now that I survived those flights!), we crossed that item off the list – leaving only two remaining. Here’s how it all worked out:

Would Jackson be okay without us? In a word, absolutely. Over the past few months, he’s become quite the independent kid. As long as someone is around to feed him, open the door to let him outside, and Baby Segway him around, I don’t really think he cares who it is. He got quality time with his grandparents, they got quality time with him, and we got the peace of mind of knowing that our son doesn’t only get injured on our watch – as both sets of grandparents were responsible for varying degrees of bumps and scratches while we were gone. In fact, the only real sign of any distress from leaving our child for a week came at the airport when we arrived home. After initially smiling when he saw us coming, Jackson freaked out and was terrified of both of us. This probably would have crushed parents with more fragile psyches, but I found it absolutely hilarious. He would sit on his Grandma’s lap, happily smiling at every stranger that walked by – then the moment KB would walk towards him he would start crying and trying to jump out of her arms to escape. Thankfully, this act only lasted a few hours and then he was back to thinking we were the coolest things since sticks and rocks – but I can’t help but wonder if that was his way of punishing us for leaving him for a week. Or if it turns out he actually just likes hanging out with his grandparents waaaaaaaay better than us, and realized that if we took him back, he would be returning to a life of school, vegetables, and reasonable bedtimes.

On the flip side, would we be okay without Jackson? In two words, pretty much. After the plane safely landed in Mexico, it was like stepping into a time machine. All the sudden I was mid-20s Brian whose only goal was to keep himself alive and have as much fun as possible, as opposed to worrying about another human being. Once the drinks started flowing and I had sand beneath my feet, worrying about my son was the last thing on my mind. Kate, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as care-free. I partially blame this on the fact that our resort had free-wifi that stretched all the way to the ocean – but she was never far from her iPhone, checking for updates about Jackson, begging for pictures from family members, and requesting hour-by-hour write-ups about exactly how he spent his day. To me, these weren’t all that exciting (1:00 – played with rocks, 2:00 – played with mulch, 3:00 – opened and closed the fence gate repeatedly), but Kate ate them up. Having said that, I think that did help her relax knowing that he was fine. I’m proud to say that although his name did come up in a few conversations here or there, we weren’t the annoying parents talking nonstop about their child back home over every dinner conversation or picturing what he would be doing if he was there with us.

All in all, I’d say the trip was a tremendous success, and really opened my eyes about the best way to do vacations with a small child. Separate family vs. grown-up vacations seem like a tremendous idea – at least until the kids are old enough to appreciate a real vacation. We had been talking about doing another “family vacation” this year – but after initially throwing out ideas about going somewhere more fun (like a beach), it seems like Jackson would be just as happy going to a sand volleyball court and playing in the sand, followed by an afternoon in a kiddie pool in our backyard. Why pay all the money to see the real thing? I haven’t quite perfected the details yet, but I think the maximum distance traveled for a vacation with a child should adhere to a formula of the child’s age multiplied by 2 hours. For a one-year old, that gives you a two hour radius of home – but by the time they’re three or four (old enough to appreciate things), it opens the door to get 6-8 hours away from home. I’m sure at some point, we’ll seem like bad parents if we continue to take adult vacations – but for now, they seem like a great idea all around – a win/win/win for parents, kids, and grandparents.

Parrot. Before we left on vacation, my mother was fairly certain that given a few full days with Jackson, she’d be able to teach him to talk, actually go down stairs backwards, and do basic math. Apparently she was spoiled by having a genius baby like me back in the day – or thought that she had some secret parenting tricks that were going to provide a miraculous breakthrough in Jackson’s mental development. When we returned, we found that the Monk was pretty much the same as we left him – with verbal capacities somewhat similar to a parrot, and still unable to comprehend or predict dangers that come with things like blindly stepping off a flight of stairs.

However, over the past two weeks, his ability to mimic me (like a parrot) came pretty close to being “baby-book worthy” for generating his first words and his first song. I don’t know what inspires him to suddenly start imitating me – but it’s sporadic, and usually occurs in the evening, after dinner, when it’s just the two of us hanging out. First I got him to keep saying “Dada”, and then got out the video camera and said “Jackson, what’s my name?” to which he replied “Dada”. Somewhat cheating – but I think I might be able to take credit for being his first word.

Shortly thereafter, I found myself singing a song (surprise, surprise) to him to the tune of "Frère Jacques" that I call “Where is Jackson”. After I stopped singing it and went back to doing dishes, he immediately started humming the tune – so that might be his first song – but if it is, I totally regret not singing something more hilarious to him that evening so that I could tell people when he grows up, “Yep, the first song my son ever sung was ‘Riding Dirty’”.

Although I think Kate is getting slightly worried about Jackson’s lack of verbal communication skills (note: I’ll remember this when Jackson won’t shut up two months from now and she longingly looks back to the days when he just pointed and grunted at things), I’m fine with it. Honestly, he understands pretty much everything. This basic knowledge of commands is really giving me my first glimpse into how awesome it’s going to be to make him do work around the house someday. Today he can put dirty clothes in a hamper, put away his toys, and take out the garbage can. Tomorrow he’s going to be cutting grass, doing the dishes, and getting me beers from the fridge. Can’t wait.

The Great Outdoors. I remember when some of my friends first became home owners (suckers, all of us!) – suddenly we’d be complaining about the weather over beers because it was preventing us from cutting the grass – something that we went the first 20+ years of our lives without ever caring about. But now, suddenly it was a huge pain and made us all feel like cranky old men. Flash forward a few years now that I have a child. Once again, rain is my worst enemy.

I don’t think you really comprehend how important it is to be able to go outside until you have a child. Pre-Jackson, I’d gladly spend a rainy Saturday afternoon on the couch watching reality TV marathons and taking naps. Post-Jackson, we’re stir crazy and realizing that we’ve already played with every toy in the house and used up all my tricks by 8:30 am, frantically realizing that I need to find something to entertain my child for another 11 hours before bedtime.

It’s not as though the answer is “you need to buy more toys” or “you need to come up with more games to play with your child” – I think regardless of what we were doing, my child would want to be outside. We could be standing inside a toy store full of puppies and clowns, and he would stand at the window pointing to go outside and play in an empty parking lot. As part of dealing with our ever-paranoid fears that we are raising our child incorrectly, I recently started reading “The Happiest Toddler on the Block” (which of course, is a follow-up to “The Happiest Baby on the Block: The Story of Jackson” – because we read that book, and I have yet to find a child happier than mine… unless he’s cooped up inside). But in the book, the author talks about how boring the indoors is to kids – even if it’s full of video games and brightly colored toys, they want the sensory experience of the outdoors more. I totally buy into this theory.

Most of the time, it’s not a problem to feed this desire. Since my child’s favorite outside toys are sticks and rocks, there is plenty for him to interact with around our house when it’s nice outside. However, when it’s rainy outside, you need to find creative ways to keep him entertained. Note: even though Jackson would gladly just play in the rain, since he only owns one pair of shoes, doing so basically prevents him from leaving the house for the next 24 hours as his shoes dry off, so it’s less than ideal.

There are a few options out there to deal with this. Although I always say “let’s just go walk around the mall” or “let’s just go to McDonald’s and toss him in the ball pit” (read: both free activities!), apparently Kate is more concerned about doing more enriching activities – which all cost money. There are dedicated indoor kids activity centers, museums, and aquariums. Needless to say, the last time it was a gross Saturday, we found ourselves determining that even though we had both only been there once in our lives before, we needed to buy a season pass to the local aquarium to have a place to go whenever it rained. That’s right, we are now card-carrying members of both the zoo and the aquarium (along with what appears to be 90% of the local population who have kids. On any given nice day, the zoo is PACKED with parents and kids. On any given crappy day, the aquarium is PACKED with parents and kids.) I suppose that is one good thing about having kids – it really does help support the local cultural activities.

The funny thing is what Jackson likes most at each place. His favorite things to do at the zoo are play in the mulch of the flower beds that surround the entrance, play in the jungle gym inside the zoo, or watch the waterfalls… none of which involve animals. His favorite things to do at the aquarium are to run up and down the tunnels of the exhibits and splash his hands in the water of the area where you can pet aquatic life… neither of which involve him actually looking at or caring about fish. Someday, when he is old and owns his own house, Jackson is totally going to have a small pond with a waterfall in his backyard, surrounded by rocks and flowerbeds, and he’s going to love it more than anything in the world – and it’s going to make perfect sense to me.

Year One, Month Two Musings

Food. There have been a number of dramatic changes in relation to the food consumed in our household over the first year and change of Jackson’s life. In the beginning, things were pretty simple – he drank boob whiskey, Kate and I ate our normal food in relative peace and quiet as he slept in a bassinet on the floor next to our kitchen table. Grocery shopping was simple, there was a clear divide between Jackson Food and People Food, and everyone was happy (except maybe Jackson – there’s a good chance he longingly watched us eat, eagerly waiting for the day when he could eat real food – which may explain why he periodically throws food on the floor to this day as a way to punish us).

Even after he first started eating baby “food”, it was pretty far from actually being food. I remember when Jackson was first born and baby books referenced that the first food that he would eat would be “rice cereal”. In my mind, that was going to be Rice Krispies. So imagine my surprise when I saw the dry powder flakes mixed with milk concoction that was actually “rice cereal”. I affectionately named it “gruel”, a name which has stuck to this day.

As for traditional baby food? I know that it’s nothing but real fruits and vegetables pureed and canned – but it always grossed me out. You know those crazy parents who have to personally try any food before they give it to their child? I was the opposite of that. Kate would warm up food for him in the microwave and ask me to test it before feeding it to him. I would touch it with the back side of one of my fingers for temperature, then immediately wash that finger off in the sink before proceeding with my meal.

Fast forward to a few more months and Jackson starts eating food – for real. Not only does he start eating real food, but he starts eating good stuff. Avocados. Fresh fruits. Cheese. Skyline Chili.

You know how the experts always blame obesity in America on the how expensive fresh, healthy food is compared to cheap fake processed food? They are right. Given the quantity of food he consumes, you would never think that Jackson represented a full third of our grocery bill, but he totally does. If he (or my wife) had their way, the kid would eat about a pound of blueberries a week – but unfortunately for them, I do the grocery shopping. I love blueberries as much as the next guy, but there is no way I’m paying $3.99 for a small container of them. But don’t worry, I’m not replacing them with junk – but different types of fresh fruit. Cheap things like kiwis, strawberries, or pears.

I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t you just buy canned or frozen fruits to feed to Jackson? Well, apparently he only likes the finer things in life. Somehow he knows the difference between canned pears and fresh pears… and even with fresh pears, he’ll only eat them if he watches you cut it up in front of you – lest you try to trick him and sneak some canned fruit past him. It’s ridiculous – I swear he got this trait from his mother, who refuses to believe that something can be nice unless it’s expensive (such as her romantic Valentine’s Day gift of a vacuum cleaner).

Still, I do my best to spoil The Monk with good food that he likes, which means that all the sudden, I find myself eating his scraps of food instead of vice versa. The same guy who would have thrown up in his mouth over the thought of licking a finger that touched pureed baby food is now picking up scraps off his high chair tray, justifying it by saying “eh, he only had part of this pineapple in his mouth”. My how times have changed.

The Little Things. A person can learn a lot from a small child. They focus on the important things in life – eating, sleeping, and playing. As he’s grown from baby to toddler, Jackson has become infinitely more entertaining to play with. He’s almost like you’re crazy drunk friend from college – he’s a ton of fun to be around, always a little crazy… but if you don’t keep your eyes on him, there’s a good chance he’ll walk off a ledge and hurt himself. But one of the biggest things I’ve noticed about Jackson playing is how much he pays attention to the smallest details of his surroundings. Jackson can be playing in a playground full of other little kids, swings, slides, branches, leaves, and millions upon millions of pieces of mulch – and then all the sudden, he’ll see a single piece of mulch that he wants. He walks straight over to it with a purpose, picks it up, and proceeds to carry it around with him for the next hour or so. Granted, he’s just a young toddler – so he’ll periodically drop it while traversing the world around him – but even when he does, he realizes it, stops, goes back, and picks it back up... even if it’s laying among a pile of mulch that looks identical to me. Somehow he keeps track of it. For that afternoon, it’s his most prized possession, something that he’s responsible for, something that is critical he keeps with him. You know the expression “you can’t see the forest for the trees”? Well, Jackson can’t even see the trees because he’s so focused on the smallest piece of bark that’s on the ground in front of the trees – and there’s something very sweet and appropriate about that.

When walking around in the big outside world with your child, you really gain perspective on how little they really are. To see a two foot tall person walking down the street makes the cars look giant, the street look absurdly wide, and the world a place that’s too big to possibly ever explore. Jackson spent the better part of his first year of life inside our living room, kitchen, and his bedroom – so even to expand it to our yard has increased the world he knows ten-fold. Yet even though he’s out exploring the world, I don’t think he really understands how far it stretches and how much is left to explore – because even though he knows our street, he knows a few parks, and he knows a few islands in the Caribbean (spoiled!), when he’s there he spends his time focused on one piece of mulch, or one bird, or one swing set to climb up and down for two hours. He appreciates the little things in life – the simple things – and is just as happy playing with dirt as he would be seeing exotic animals at the zoo. It’s the little things in life that are important, and that can make you the happiest.

Freedom! Finally this month, I look forward to my first vacation since the birth of Jackson. What about the aforementioned Caribbean cruise that I took in the fall? Apparently you missed the Blog post about that adventure – but there was very little about traveling with a nine month old that I consider relaxing. That trip was all about survival. This one is going to be all about hanging out with my hot wife, along with a relaxing beach, gorging myself with ridiculous amounts of guacamole, and drinking all the booze served in coconuts that I can get my hands on.

Will I miss The Monk? I assume so - but I think it’s important for me to deliver on the threats I’ve been making for the past few weeks when he has misbehaved “if you throw that food on the floor, I’m going to go to Mexico without you!” Still, although I’m looking forward to some uninterrupted rest and relaxation, there is that nagging fear in the back of my mind about “what if something terrible happens to us while we’re gone?” After all, there’s still so much I have left to teach him about life. But just in case the worst case scenario happens, here is a listing of important life lessons I would like to pass along to my son. Someone else, please ensure that he eventually learns how to read and direct him to this Blog post at an appropriate time.

1. Most of life’s most important lessons can be found in the lyrics of songs, themes of movies, and scripts of television shows. Pay attention to them.
2. Do whatever makes you happy in life… as long as you can pay the bills. It’s cool to like reading, do it as much as you want in your free time... but most English majors end up living in their parents’ basements until they are 35.
3. Turns out not where, but who you’re with that really matters. There’s a reason why most University of Dayton students, who have the ability to study abroad at their sister school in Hawaii, don’t do it. It’s because their friends aren’t there.
4. When you’re young, get emotionally invested in sporting events. It’s better to have loved and lost than to be a lame fair weather fan.
5. When you’re old, get emotionally invested in meals. A delicious plate of nachos will never break your heart.
6. When it’s super nice outside, find every possible excuse to get outside. Living in Cincinnati, you’ll have plenty of time to study / clean / work when it’s really hot or really cold (the other 340 days of the year).
7. Words of Wisdom from your Great Grandpa R: “You only have one goal in life – to save your soul.” Live a good life and root for Notre Dame football and you’ll have nothing to worry about.
8. Words of Wisdom from your Grandpa R: “Keep smiling.” Don’t worry about little things and find ways to have fun wherever you go and you’ll have nothing to worry about (tip: bring the bathing suit along on business trips!)
9.  The key to living a comfortable life is to always live within your means and wear as many mesh shorts as possible.
10. Live life with a relaxed purpose. Don’t be that guy who slowly walks everywhere. You’ve got important things to do – even if they are things like sitting on a porch, drinking a beer, and watching the world go by. Don't burn the day away.

With that, I think I’m covered for my trip. Here’s hoping I survive for next month’s post!

Year One, Month One Musings

Terminology. With Jackson’s first birthday behind us, the blog enters into tricky, confusing waters. As I’ve mentioned in the past, it’s easy to discuss a baby’s age in terms of months for the first year of their lives. But now it’s that weird stage where I don’t like any of the available ways to define his age. Thirteen months? One year and one month? Or is he enough of a grown up now that we can just call him “one” for the next year, at which point he’ll become “two”? After all, kids don’t claim to be “five years and one month old”, they’re just five. But Jackson’s not a kid, right? He’s just a baby.

WRONG.

Apparently, unbeknownst to me, once a baby hits one year of age, they stop being a baby. They become a “toddler”. In hindsight, someone should have explained the short shelf-life of my Blog title about a year and a half ago. But it’s too late to change it to “man-vs-toddler”… and even then, who knows how long that’s going to last before they suddenly start calling my son a “kid” or “child” or whatever fancy term is coming up next?

This brings us to the other problem with your child turning one year old – basically all baby books and iPhone apps stop after one year. Seriously, I think on Jackson’s birthday, my trusty BabyCenter app told me “congrats on making it to one year! Raising a child is all downhill from here, so you don’t need me anymore”, at which point it self-deleted itself. Wait, really? Maybe if you would have stuck around for more than 12 months, you could have warned me about this terminology change! Without an expert telling me what I should be expecting and doing every single month, how am I to determine how Jackson is measuring against the “average kid for his age”? When is he supposed to start talking, drinking out of a real cup, or cutting my grass? What’s going to keep me from doing something potentially dangerous? Is he now safe to start using grown-up scissors, drinking whiskey, or using a pillow? It’s all a crap shoot! Or do I no longer need to worry about all these so-called “rules” that accompany fragile babies now that I have an indestructible toddler?

Ironically, right around Jackson’s first birthday, I may have found the answer to these questions in the most unlikely of places – the Wall Street Journal. There was an article on the front page about babies and food allergies – which basically had experts concluding “once babies are eating food, you can feed them whatever you want… and it might even prevent them from being allergic to them someday”. What’s this? Experts telling me that I don’t need to worry about eggs, shellfish, or food made in a factory where they may have been exposed to tree nuts? Happy day! Needless to say, within a few days I was feeding him peanut butter, whole milk, and Wendy’s spicy chicken – and aside from the spicy chicken, which resulted in tears and a puzzled look in Jackson’s eyes of “why are you feeding me fire” – everything was fine. Nothing to worry about! Maybe these “toddlers” really don’t need to be babied! Maybe it will be smooth sailing here on out!

So for now, the blog remains “man-vs-baby”, even though it’s no longer officially an accurate title. As for the title of each month’s blog post? For consistency sake, I’ll go with Year One, Month One – but if you run into me on the street and ask me how old my son is, I’ll respond with “one” for the next year – or possibly “old enough to eat anything he wants!”

Creating a Monster. Free from the chains of all the “rules” of baby books, we’ve exposed Jackson to a number of new things over the past few months – but I’ve slowly come to realize a very important lesson: before you introduce your child to anything new, you better be ready to repeatedly do it every day for at least the next few months, because there’s a good chance it’s going to become his favorite thing in the world.

Some of these addictions make sense. When we first introduced Jackson to animal crackers, it was one of those nights where he wasn’t really in the mood to eat anything, and we were looking for something new and fun to feed him. Given that we have one of those jumbo jars of animal crackers in our pantry, it was an obvious choice of something new to try – and according to the jar, it’s a fat free food, which basically makes it a vegetable equivalent, right? Needless to say, it was love at first taste. Now that Jackson knows where the animal crackers live, anytime the pantry door is open, he’ll walk over to them, put his hand on top of the jar, and look up at us with these eyes that say “people, there are HUNDREDS of animal crackers in here. Why aren’t we eating them right now!?”

Other addictions seem like a good, healthy thing, but quickly backfire. For instance, with the turning of seasons to spring, we’ve begun taking Jackson outside to play. After being cooped up inside our house all winter, the big outside world seems like a place of infinite fun and possibility! Birds flying overhead, wind blowing through the trees, cars driving around – it’s all understandably pretty cool for a kid. But if we had our way, outside time would be reserved to days when the sun is out and it’s warmer than 45 degrees… and ideally only for an hour or so at a time. Unfortunately, after introducing him to the great outdoors, anytime Jackson sees the outside, or a door leading to the outside, he wants to go outside. Pointing at the door, Baby Segway-ing his way to the door knob, grunting instructions to us like “people, why are we hanging out in the living room? There are SQUIRRELS out there to watch!” Once outside, he wants to stay outside, regardless of temperature or dinner time. Strangely, he’s still deathly afraid of grass, so if he’s not being carried around the yard, he pretty much just walks out on the sidewalks and street pointing at random things and touching whatever looks the most dirty (thus far, he’s a big fan of the inside of hubcaps on cars). Parenting 101 Tip – if your child is afraid of the grass, just let him play in the street!

At this point, I’ve learned to accept the risk associated with doing anything new with my son, and have attempted to use it for my benefit. In preparation for March Madness, I’ve been applying this theory to college basketball, having Jackson watch it with me whenever possible in hopes that he’ll “force” me to sit and watch it nonstop for the next three weeks. We’ll see how this pans out.

Short and sweet this month! But hey, at least it’s better than all other baby reading materials that just stop at one year. Consider this all bonus blog!

Month Twelve Musings

One. Against all odds, we made it to a year. It’s funny, because on the one hand, time has flown by. If I were a betting man who didn’t own a calendar, I would guess that my son was roughly four months old. He’s been around a full year? I don’t buy it. On the other hand, I can’t remember life without him. Part of this can be attributed to my terrible memory, but part of it is that having a baby so dramatically changes so many components of your life that it grabs you and throws you out of whatever routine you used to have and instead replaces it with a totally new one. Taking time to slowly prepare and eat a dinner? Sitting down and reading the newspaper after eating? Actually going to the gym? Were these things I actually used to do? When I talk them things now, it feels like I’m reminiscing about the “good old days” in college or something – and yet it was only one year ago. Just crazy. Willie Nelson was right. Ain’t it funny how time slips away?

Over the course of this first year my son has gone from a small Asian boy who was pretty much a slacker (all he did was eat, sleep, and lay around all day!) to a slightly larger White boy who doesn’t stop moving and playing for any reason (even sleeping – we’ve got a video monitor, and he does laps around his crib throughout the night). Was he easier as a lazy Asian? Absolutely. But he’s infinitely more fun now – and actually has a personality. I can honestly say that I know my son now. I get him. I know his likes and dislikes. I know what makes him tick. All of this goes a long way in building a relationship with a child. No offense to lazy Asian Jackson, but when he was first born I liked him out of obligation (and fear of being hit by my wife if I didn’t agree with her that he was the greatest thing ever). However, over the course of the first year, as he actually became a person, I feel like I actually have a relationship with him. We’ve bonded over the course of many long nights and early mornings, and as we hit the one year mark, it’s safe to say that we are officially buddies. He likes me, and I like him. Maybe too much…

Baby Segway. My son has always been fond of me. Unlike his mother, who is often times “all business”, I’m pretty much “all play”. Give me twenty seconds alone with my child, and I guarantee I’ll have half his toys spread around his room, I’ll be on the floor crawling after him, and pretty much focusing all my attention on entertaining him… while I’m supposed to be getting him dressed for bed. So it comes as no surprise that Jackson likes me, wants to hang out with me, and wants me to hold him. As I’ve mentioned in the past, this drives Kate crazy. She’s the one that worries about him day and night, plans his meals, clothing, and coordinates doctor visits to ensure he’s healthy. I’m the one tagging along to the doctor visit playing on the iPhone with Jackson. She’s the one reading the baby books, documenting his every developmental task, and attempting to teach him words. I’m the one teaching him how to dive on a loose football. If babies were logical, they would understand that their mothers really should be their favorites – but they’re just babies, and they just want to have fun.

Jackson is no exception to this rule. Since he was born, I’ve always held a slight edge in the popular vote over Kate. I get it – I’ve got a lot going for me. Sharp wit, deceptively good looks, smoking hot wife, large MP3 collection, etc. But sometime over the past month, things have tipped dramatically in my favor – to the point of being a little absurd. I really have no idea what changed – besides the fact that Jackson is getting smarter and smarter with every passing day, and probably beginning to realize the true genius in my humor – but he’s becoming very… clingy. Suddenly, he’s no longer happy just having me in the room with him. Now, he needs me to be carrying him as often as possible.

As active as Jackson is, this introduces an interesting dilemma. How can he be running all over the place getting into trouble if he’s in my arms, as opposed to walking around on the floor on his own? Luckily, he solved for this problem by creating what I’ll term a “Baby Segway”.

For those who have never been on a Segway, they’re basically a two-wheeled transportation device (made famous by Gob Bluth) where the rider controls the movement by simply leaning in one direction or another. It responds to subtle movements so much that it almost seems like it’s reading your thoughts and moving accordingly. While I’m holding Jackson, he does the same thing. If he wants to move forward, he lurches forward in my arms. If he wants me to turn, he’ll swing his head and body in that direction. Sometimes these movements will be accompanied by a pointing motion as well and a verbal command of “da”.

…and I follow his every command.

Suddenly, being the favorite parent isn’t so great. Suddenly, I feel like a crusty old man complaining about my back and knees hurting (and how I used to walk to school uphill in the snow each way). Have you ever tried to bend down and pick something up off the ground while balancing a twenty pound child in one arm and holding a toy in the other? Or taken repeated trips up the stairs, then down the stairs, then up the stairs again for a half hour because it’s suddenly become your child’s favorite thing in the world? Every night when I go to bed my legs feel like I ran a few miles that day. It’s crazy.

The other thing? In the back of my mind, I can’t help but think maybe Jackson doesn’t actually like me the best – it’s just that I’m the only one foolish enough (and strong enough) to willingly act as his Baby Segway, so he keeps coming to me for more. The good news for my legs and back is that this can’t last forever – as strong as I am, based on my gym workouts in a previous life, I seem to recall that I can’t lift more than a 30 pound weight. This kid’s growing closer and closer to reaching that maximum weight for the Baby Segway ride with every passing day. But for now, I guess I’ll continue to assume that my son thinks I’m the greatest thing since Plum baby food pouches… and isn’t already outsmarting me and totally owning me.

Baby Organization. With all the bonding Jackson and I have done over the past year, I’ve learned a lot about the development of the mind of a child – and developed a number of theories to help explain why they do the things they do.

It all started with Baby Chaos Theory – which I originally thought was a way for babies to shake up the boring, orderly ways of the world for something more chaotic and fun. Looking back on it now, I recognize that this is simply the first step in babies having control over something. By taking things off a shelf and throwing them on a ground, they exhibit their control over those objects. “You want to be on the shelf book? Tough! I say you’re going on the floor! Now who’s boss?!”

Then it turned into Baby Purpose Theory – which I originally thought was a way for babies to feel purpose in life by taking control over important tasks like the opening and closing of cabinets, drawers, and doors. It’s a dangerous job for a baby, and one that could give them a sense of accomplishment at the end of a hard day’s work. “Honey, bring me some milk and a Blanks – I had a tough day at the office!”

I didn’t think there was anything more to it than that… but now I recognize that this was simply the next step in a much greater plan. Apparently Jackson has hated where we kept things in our house from the first day he arrived, and has slowly been working towards the point where he would be in a position to change things more to his liking. That day has arrived, which brings us to Baby Organization.

Although it makes little sense to us adults, Baby Organization makes perfect sense to them, and pulls together all previous theories. Jackson needed Baby Chaos to get our things out of their original locations. He needed Baby Purpose to learn how all of the various hiding places in our house function. Putting them together with his newfound mobility, he’s finally able to do things like take our remote control and put it in the garbage can or take my slippers and put them in the hamper… and that’s just the items that we’ve actually found. There are bath toys that have been missing for weeks – and I just know that they’re eventually going to turn up somewhere crazy… like in the fireplace or on the roof of our house.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s got an affinity for organization. After all, my wife’s idea of a fun weekend is getting everything out of all of our kitchen cabinets, cleaning them, and re-organizing them. It’s also how she ensures that I never know where anything is in our house, and can make me feel like I’m not doing enough chores (“You don’t know where the floor cleaner is? Maybe if you cleaned the floors more often!”). There’s a reason why she owns a label maker and we have a full dresser dedicated to gift wrapping, organized into separate drawers for ribbons, paper, bows, and bags. She likes things organized – and in her mind, the best way to get things organized is to make a total mess first.

My hope for Jackson’s Baby Organization is that we’re really only one step away from him actually being able to clean up after himself. As I mentioned earlier, when we play, it usually involves all of his toys at once, so being able to tidy up the room afterwards would be nice. Also, it’s going to make for some entertaining conversations someday when he learns how to talk and can explain to my why it makes logical sense to keep my deodorant in my bedside stand, or why my electric shaver should be in the bathtub. But for now, we’re left to wonder… and have fun scavenger hunts on a daily basis for items around our house.

First Birthdays. Finally this month, there’s the small matter of Jackson’s first birthday party… and by “small matter”, I mean the biggest event that my wife has ever coordinated outside of our wedding. It all started months and months ago, when she began to ask me about what “theme” we should do for his birthday. Thinking back to every party I’ve ever thrown in my adult life, the only time I remember a theme being involved, it was surrounding drinking Box Wine. But I was a kid once, and have been to my fair share of children’s birthday parties over the years. To the best of my knowledge, the only “theme” that I remember was the design of the birthday cake – some kids had dinosaurs, some had clowns, the cool ones (me) had Michael Jackson when they were three years old. But that was the extent of it – it’s not as if we ate clown cake off of clown plates served to us by a person dressed as a clown. However, the times, they are a changin’.

I mostly blame two internet institutions for this change – The Facebook and Pinterest.

The Facebook makes it far too easy for women-folk to see what their friends are doing for their own children’s birthday parties, which sparks a competitive nature to surpass their efforts. Over the years, this one-upmanship has escalated things big time.

During our discussion of themes, Kate brought up a number of websites that sold theme packages for a baby’s first birthday. You could drop $50 and have your very own monkey plates, bowls, cups, balloons, streamers, signs, hats, and party favors to ensure that everyone at your party was well aware of the theme. I’m sure back in the early days of Facebook, this was sufficient. Women would buy the party pack, decorate their house, take pictures, post them on The Facebook, and bask in the glow of the positive comments they received.

But then, some crafty mom decided that buying a pre-designed party pack was too easy. What if, instead, she created her own custom-themed plates, bowls, cups, balloons, streamers, signs, hats, and party favors? That would definitely one-up the mom next door who obviously didn’t love her child enough to hand-make everything. So she did it, posted it to The Facebook, and got even more “likes”.

However, not everyone is quite as creative or crafty. In order to come up with their own ideas, women needed a new website to share them and get inspiration from people besides their direct Facebook friends (to prevent looking like they were copying someone else).

Enter Pinterest. Pinterest provides page upon page of different ideas for decoration and themes for a baby’s first birthday party. Now, anyone could create their own party decorations with a little bit of time and a hot glue gun. After all, why would you spend $50 on pre-made decorations when instead you could spend $35 on supplies and thirty hours of your life making the decorations yourself?

Thus, this is how my house turned into Monkey Decoration Central for the weeks leading up to Jackson’s big day. Craft tables setup in the living room, paper strewn about the floor, every high ledge in our house stuffed full of party favors to prevent the cats from getting into them. Everything from the cake to the cups to the streamers were hand-made, and there was no doubt that anyone would leave our house without knowing full well that it was indeed Jackson’s first birthday and that he had a monkey theme.

Full disclosure – don’t get me wrong – the decorations were fantastic. People at the party loved them, and Kate totally got a lot of comments on Facebook, which really is the most important thing.

As for Jackson himself, he was understandably overwhelmed and afraid of all the strangers in his house, which quickly lead to a Baby Segway trip to the basement to hang out in the quiet for the first hour of the party, doing some Baby Organizing of the beer steins and shot glasses on our shelves. As predicted by me, he was not a fan of the birthday cake – but instead immediately started sucking down an avocado which he received as a gift from his Aunt Lisa and Uncle Eric. I knew we should have given him a guacamole cake! But in the end, I think he had fun playing with some other kids, got a boatload of new toys, and warmed up to the crowd. Ironically, he was probably the only person in the house who didn’t know it was a monkey themed party.

Footnote: also, here’s hoping that he isn’t suddenly the most narcissistic person in the world. Doing a quick count, there were no less than twenty pictures of him around the house for decoration – in addition to the roughly 100 that were cycling through on a digital picture from the entire time. Total number of pictures of me in the house, not involving Jackson – maybe three. I understand that it was his birthday, and maybe he’s slightly cuter than me (debatable), but if he turns into a self-absorbed diva someday, I’m blaming his mother.

Month Eleven Musings

Taking Care of Business. I’m writing this month’s Blog post from 20,000 feet on the way back from a quick business trip. Before I had a baby, business trips were often viewed as a fun distraction from the day-to-day business of work. You got to eat out, spend the company money, and see new places (granted, often crappy places you’d never want to visit again – but at least now you knew that). But now? It kinda sucks.

I never ever worried about an airplane crashing before I had Jackson. After all, they are infinitely safer than traveling by car (or even walking down the street). Now? Every time there’s a bit of turbulence little thoughts start creeping into my head about my child growing up without a father and regretting not writing down every valuable life lesson I wanted to teach him. It’s ridiculous.

Given that Jackson is in a stage of life where’s he’s learning new things every day, every single time you leave your house, you risk missing some new important milestone in your child’s life. Thankfully I was around for him taking his first steps, but this week I missed the all-important “eating with a spoon by himself for the first time” milestone. Granted, not one of the Top 5, but it’s still disappointing to have the feeling that you’re not there to enjoy the payoff of all the months of hard work… and by “hard work” I mean personally using a spoon to feed myself while Jackson watched me. It’s harder than you think (especially if you listen to my wife, who insists that I eat everything with a spoon incorrectly by bringing my mouth to the bowl rather than the spoon to my mouth).

Then there’s the whole part about actually missing your child. There's no denying the "feel good" moment of getting home from a long day and seeing your son's face light up with a huge smile to see you. It's amazing. I’m sure some people will argue that I should miss my wife just as much as I miss my child, but she and I will both tell you that it’s not the case. A grown-up understands why you are leaving, when you are coming back, and how technology like FaceTime work. For a baby? Jackson probably thinks that his father has suddenly abandoned him for having one too many stinky diapers and that his mother is taunting him by showing him fancy moving pictures of me through the iPad.

Lastly, you can’t help but feel bad for the spouse left behind. Contrary to what Rachel made it look like on Friends, being a single parent is impossible. I’ve personally experienced it when Kate has traveled on business. Here’s a typical day:

1. Wake up earlier than normal before Jackson wakes up
2. Get myself ready
3. Get Jackson ready
4. Get to work late
5. Sramble to get all your work done in a shorter time period than a normal day
6. Leave work early to pick Jackson up
7. Play with Jackson
8. Feed Jackson
9. Put Jackson to bed
10. Feed myself
11. Clean up the house, which is a disaster from items 7 and 8 above.
12. Get Jackson’s things ready for the next day
13. Get my things ready for the next day
14.  Look at the clock and realize it’s already an hour past my bedtime and I still haven't changed out of my work clothes.

I really have no idea how people do it, unless they’re really dirty, slackers at work, or can survive on five hours of sleep each night. There’s a reason why the Bible tells us that we should be married before having kids, and it has nothing to do with stable families, morals, or building an army of Christian soldiers – it’s that it provides the greatest chance of survival.

Work trips usually involve long days, stressful meetings, and crappy nights of sleep in hotel beds – but they’re a luxury vacation compared to being a single working parent for a few days. Needless to say, I’m excited to get home.

First Christmas. There are all sorts of benefits to having a child. In theory you live longer, have more feeling of purpose in life, and have a new person to mold in your self-image and teach valuable lessons about what TV shows are better than others. But eleven months into this “parenthood” thing, I’ll put Christmas up there as one of the biggest benefits.

Don’t get me wrong – adult Christmases are fun. They usually start later and involve more drinking – but no matter how hard you may try by listening to Christmas music and decking your halls, they are lacking a certain spark that can only come from having a child around to be excited and opening presents… and I’m basing this opinion off of one Christmas with Jackson, where he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

There are many important life skills that babies need to develop. They’re born with some (breathing, crying, being cute), but must be taught others (eating with a spoon, covering up loose footballs on a fumble). In Jackson’s case, he was born with an uncanny ability to give the best reaction to every single present he opens. We would put a present in front of him, and he would look at it, having no idea why we had such a brightly colored box for him to bongo on. Then we’d help him open it, and he would be confused as to why we were so interested in ripping paper. Then suddenly, he would see what was inside that present and give the biggest smile and excited expression ever. It’s really quite interesting when you think about it. How does he know what most of these toys are in the first place? He got a toy CD player this year. Like most kids under the age of 20, I can guarantee that he has never seen a CD player before – yet somehow he knew that this was a toy, and that this toy was for him. Is it that it’s composed of plastic with bright colors and smiling faces all over it? Is he secretly watching TV commercials and going through toy catalogues at school? No idea – but regardless of the present, big or small, toy or box of Cheerios, he was super happy to get any and every present.

And isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

Little does Jackson know, but I have to think that this skill is going to go a long way in increasing his present intake over the years. If you bought a present for a baby and they opened it but were disinterested – or more interested in the box than the present, that sounds like a recipe for fewer gifts over the years. But being so excited to rip open that toy and start playing with it? That sounds like a recipe for this kid to grow up being super spoiled by friends and family. Smart.

Note: a bit of a tangent, but somehow Jackson is the same way with animals. How does he know what animals are vs. people or inanimate objects? If he sees a picture of a dog or a cat? All smiles and interested in it. He sees a picture of a random person or toaster oven, not so much fun. Yes, he has seen some dogs and cats in real life before – but they come in all shapes and sizes! How does he know the difference between a Great Dane and a horse? Or between a horse and a toy horse rocking chair thing? It’s crazy. The kids loves his cats and dogs more than anything this side of daddy.

Besides the presents, there were some other pleasant Christmas surprises. Jackson was totally already interested in Elf on the Shelf, and pointing out where Elfie was located each week made him happy – so that’ll probably be a fun tradition for years to come. Also nice? He didn’t totally destroy our Christmas tree and ornaments. Just like the first time we put up a tree with Kate’s cats in the house, I had terrible visions of coming home from work and finding the tree on the ground, ornaments shattered everywhere, and guilty looking cats cowering in the corner. Before we put up the tree, I thought for sure that we’d need to buy some type of gate to put up around it to keep Jackson out – but instead, it was just like the grass outside. When he touched it, he didn’t like it, and he stayed away. He would become interested in some of the ornaments, and might grab them or pull at them – but that’s why we put the fragile ones up high. It was really no issue, which was great. Who needs baby gates? We’ll just line the top and bottom of our steps with branches from our artificial tree and it’ll keep him away! Lastly there was the first encounter with Santa.

More than anything, we viewed a visit to the mall to see Santa Claus as a hilarious photo op - you know, one where you can bust out the picture years later and show your child how terrified they were of Santa. We went into the mall expecting the worst - long lines, crappy Santa, rude elves, and a terrible picture. Instead, we waited in no line, quickly got a number of great pictures with Jackson and the Big Man himself, and were on our way. It truly was a Christmas miracle. 

Baby Purpose. A few months back, I developed the Baby Chaos Theory – that being, babies are happiest when things are messy, on the floor, or in general chaos. Stacks of blocks need to be knocked down. Books on a shelf need to be pulled onto the floor and scattered about. It’s science. This past month, I’ve discovered a new theory – that of Baby Purpose.

Think about it – everyone needs purpose in life. Adults get it from having kids, work, and professional sports teams breaking their hearts. Kids get it from school, sports, and make-out parties. What about babies?  Initially, I thought that they got their purpose from creating chaos. They needed to mess up everything, because if they didn’t, then who would? But now that Jackson is more mobile, I’m realizing that there are far more important things in life for babies than making a mess. Things like opening and closing drawers and doors. You put my child in front of an unlocked baby gate, and he will stand up at it, and open and close it repeatedly – not just for a few minutes, but for a solid half hour or hour. Is he testing the quality of the construction of the hinges? Ensuring that it’s properly aligned? Getting practice for his future career as a doorman at a fancy hotel? No idea – but he absolutely loves it. Same with any furniture drawers in our house. They are made to be opened, examined, and then closed. Sometimes, to mix it up a little, he’ll take something out of the drawer, look at it, then put it back in the drawer and close it. Again, and again, and again.

Now, we’re relatively good parents (most of the time). We’ve moved most of the dangerous items out of any low-lying drawers and put them up higher where only adults can hurt themselves. We thought, what harm could there possibly be in letting Jackson play with towels or wooden spoons? It turns out, a lot.

I often go back and forth in debating if my child is a genius or an idiot. He’s very clever in some things (quickly figuring out how to open cabinets that we have lazily kept shut with a wooden spoon between the handles), but not the sharpest knife in our (outside of his reach) drawer in other things – like if you have your fingers on the inside edge of a door and close it, it’s going to pinch your fingers, and it’s going to hurt.

I can’t count the number of times he’s slammed a door on his hands and is standing there screaming – fingers on his left hand getting crushed while his right hand continues to attempt to close the door all the way, creating more pain. I might be off on this – but I thought there was some lesson that parents were supposed to teach their kids about touching a hot stove once to learn that they shouldn’t ever do it again. Apparently that’s not going to work on Jackson… at least not yet.

What this all means is that he requires 24/7 on-the-job surveillance while doing his work of opening and closing doors. I’m on constant watch for him to move to a drawer and quick to throw my hand in there to prevent it from closing all the way while he “works”. I’ve become an expert of pulling out towels, books, or clothes to ensure that drawers can’t close all the way – but somehow he still finds ways to hurt himself.

Could we just totally baby-proof everything? Sure – but do you know what a pain it is to continuously connect and disconnect those things every time you need a pan or pair of socks? Is the safety of my child’s fingers really worth that hassle? As a society, I’m looking to the inventors of the world to come up with some modern solutions here. Voice activated locks that only open when I say something complicated that my child can’t imitate (at this point, anything that is a real world – but eventually just expressions that a kid would never know or understand like “It’s important to fund your 401k” or “VCRs are used for recording TV shows”)

Although I don’t know what has drawn Jackson to this profession in life, perhaps it’s the danger of it all. If you think about it, we pretty much baby babies from the moment they’re born. Everything is soft, friendly, and brightly colored. But opening and closing doors? That’s serious, tough work involving solid colors and no cartoon faces. It’s the baby equivalent of going into the coal mines for a day. Perhaps this is Jackson’s Baby Purpose in life. After a tough day of pinched fingers and hundreds of opens and closes, he can kick back and relax with his toys and feel like he made a difference while sipping on a bottle of milk. I can totally understand it.

Walking Tall. Lastly this month, we have officially checked off “able to walk” on the list of important baby milestones. What started as two steps towards the cats on one fateful weekend morning quickly developed into 8-10 step walks on Christmas Day. Now? He’s all over the place.

Aside from the entertainment of seeing a baby walk around like a drunken monkey, once they start walking it doesn’t really buy you a whole lot more than when they are crawling on all fours. I suppose that clothes stay a bit cleaner (especially in the knee areas), but it’s yet another way for kids to hurt themselves. Eventually, when he gets better at walking, it’ll be great to not have to carry the kid everywhere – but for now, the walking he does is still somewhat temporary. There are three reasons why Jackson will stop walking:

• He hits a couch / chair / wall and supports himself on it with his hand.
• He sees something interesting on the floor or gets tired and plops himself down.
• He gets distracted or loses focus and falls to the ground.

Although he’s only like two-and-a-half feet tall, the sound of a baby head hitting a hard wood floor after a fall is horrible. I’ve asked our doctor about what we can do to prevent my child from having brain damage and ending up as a doorman at a fancy hotel when he grows up, but she assures me that this is why God makes babies small, and there is nothing we can do about it.

Still, this means that Jackson is now at risk of injuring himself both at work – and on his way to and from work! The world is quickly becoming a very dangerous place for this kid.

Okay – we’re starting our descent, so I suppose that wraps up this month. Next month, I’m sure I’ll have all sorts of rants about the ridiculousness of a baby’s first birthday party in this day and age as the monkey somehow is already turning ONE. Crazy. Time flies when you’re having fun – or also when you are writing a Blog on an airplane.

Month Ten Musings

I took a nine-month old baby on a week-long cruise and lived to tell about it… barely. There are two versions of the story of Jackson’s first cruise – one told from the perspective of Brian, and one told from the perspective of Kate. Although we pretty much spent every waking moment of the trip together, it’s interesting to see how dramatically different our stories of the trip are.

On every other vacation I’ve ever been on, there has been one singular focus – have as much fun as possible. Long in advance of the trip, I’d be reading on every possible detail of the location, planning every minute of every day in an effort to maximize fun. I’ve always been of the mindset that there are two types of vacations: ones that you go on with a goal to see and do as much as possible (such as trips to Europe or Disney World), and ones that you go on with a goal to do absolutely nothing – with the exception of maybe gaining as much weight as possible (such as trips to all-inclusive Mexican resorts). But on this trip, I learned there was a third type of vacation – a vacation with a baby, or what I’ll call a “Survival Vacation.” There is only one goal on a Survival Vacation – make it through the day alive, and live to fight another day.  

Traveling. Let’s start with the physical act of taking your baby from your home to your vacation spot. Since we are Americans, there are really only two options here – traveling by car or traveling by plane. Having now completed each with Jackson, I can say that there are pros and cons to each.

When traveling by car, you can pack as much crap as you need into the trunk and back seat without concern for weight restrictions or having to face the possibility of needing to carry ALL of it at one point in time. It’s also relatively cheap, comparatively speaking. On the other hand, Jackson absolutely hates his car seat and after about a half hour starts crying nonstop unless he’s being fed or constantly entertained (in his defense, I’m the same way on car rides).

When traveling by plane, this isn’t an issue. Apparently airplane travel is so much safer than car travel that babies don’t even have to be in car seats – or even have a seat at all! They are the equivalent of your laptop, you can just carry them on and hold on to them, or tuck them under the seat if you get bored with them. It’s great, especially when you have multiple people on the plane to pass the baby around to – like a hot potato, if the potato could erupt in tears at any moment. This freedom makes Jackson infinitely happier, and he gladly walked across our row, one lap to the next throughout the flight. He also enjoyed making eyes with the ladies in the row behind us by peeking up over the seat.

On the other hand, you spend the whole flight on full defensive alert for the first sign of unhappiness, ready to spring into action with a handful of Cheerios or shake-ball to keep him from screaming bloody murder and costing me the hundreds of dollars it would take to buy “I’m sorry” beers for everyone on the plane. Again, all pre-baby flights were just like pre-baby vacations. I was primarily concerned with how I was going to keep myself entertained for the duration of the flight. This time, my only concern was keeping Jackson happy.

Then there’s the actual act of getting onto the plane. Again, one of the nice perks is that you get to be one of the first people to board the plane (in your face “medallion members!”) and have all the overhead compartment space you could want. Unfortunately, you need approximately 20% of the total space on the plane for all of the things you need to carry on. I boarded the plane with a huge backpack on my back, a small backpack on my front, a rolling carry-on bag in one hand, and a stroller in the other. Note that this is in addition to the two 48 pound bags we checked for our week-long vacation in a warm weather client… and Jackson’s clothes fold into two-inch by two-inch squares, weighing almost nothing! It defies the laws of science.

How did the Monkey do?

Before we boarded the plane, he started crying when Kate attempted to put him down for a nap in her Maya Wrap (PS – have I ever discussed this thing on here before? Greatest invention ever for creating a pseudo-womb wherever you go which puts babies to sleep in no time… and you look like a hippie when you wear it). He cried for a solid ten minutes at first while Kate paced all over the terminal. Even among the loud hustle and bustle of the airport, I could hear his screams ten gates away (and say “Ugh – someone needs to get their child in line” out loud as much as possible). But once he fell asleep, he stayed that way until just before takeoff. On the whole, he was fine on the flight – aside from a few tense minutes of loud crying where I felt the angry stares of everyone on the plane (now I know how Muslims felt when they boarded planes post-9/11), he was his normal self – all over the place and needing constant entertainment, but relatively happy. As we walked off the plane, I breathed a sigh of relief – the first hurdle had been crossed… but we weren’t out of the woods yet.

As we arrived at the location of our shuttle to the airport (along with 50 of our closest friends, each with  multiple bags jockeying for space on a narrow sidewalk), standing in the beating sun (leading to reminders to “keep him out of the sun!” every 20 seconds from my lovely bride), Jackson decided he was tired of waiting, tired of being held, tired of everything. There was only one thing he wanted to do – sit on the ground and eat the rocks out of the flower bed next to us. After about 15 minutes of waiting, with him crying and doing his best fish out of water impression to try and squirm out of our hands, we gave up and plopped him down on the dirty ground. I’m pretty sure we kept swatting rocks away from his mouth right before he could eat them, but I can’t really be sure. All I know is that he was quiet, and rocks are “nature’s candy”, right?

But this really illustrated one of the big pitfalls of flying with a baby – there are so many variables involved – getting through security, keeping the baby’s ears okay during takeoff and landing, waiting in long lines, carrying a closet on your back – that any one thing could go wrong and lead to twenty minutes of pure misery not only for you – but for everyone within earshot. It’s risky.

But at the end of the day, we had survived the first leg of our journey relatively unscathed. It was time to board the ship.

Cruisin’. Once we finally boarded the ship (with our 250 pounds of gear), I had high hopes that things would be more under our control. We had a solid home base, fully equipped with toys and blankets for Jackson and two liters worth of booze sitting our cabin fridge for me. We also had hundreds of people sleeping within about thirty feet of us – but Jackson was a happy baby. We assumed worst case scenario, his laughter might wake some people up early in the morning (at which point they would smile and make some comment about “there’s nothing more pure than the laughter of a child”). Little did we know, Jackson was about to cry more in one week than he had in the previous three months of his life.

Why?

It’s hard to say. It was probably some combination of teething, being in a totally foreign environment, getting off his normal nap schedule, and constantly being put in scenarios and places where he couldn’t crawl around, do whatever he wanted, and put everything he found in his mouth (like he gets to do at school every day). It probably also didn’t help that his first day to the beach involved getting knocked over by a wave and getting sunscreen in his eyes. But Jackson went from a baby who slept from 7:00 pm to 7:00 am every night to a baby that woke up every two hours crying.

Don’t get me wrong – I think it would be possible to take a cruise with a baby, but only if you operate under the assumption that you are going on a Survival Vacation, not a normal one. In hindsight, we were probably over-ambitious to think that a 9 month old baby would happily sit at a two hour formal dinner every night cheerfully eating Cheerios while everyone else enjoyed polite dinner conversation. We probably shouldn’t have planned 8 hour excursions at every port and assumed that “he’ll just sleep in our arms when he’s tired”. But we were young, ambitious, and foolish.

Did we have fun on the trip? Absolutely – but it’s pretty funny when you look at when we had the most fun. It fell into one of two categories:

1. When we were not with our child (such as when we went Snuba diving and left him with Grandma).

2. When we were with our child inside our cabin, playing on the ground like we would at home.

Looking back on it, I realize that the fundamental problem was that we attempted to bring two very different worlds together as one, and assumed everything would work out. When the two worlds were kept separate, as mentioned above, things were great. When we were on a traditional vacation, we had fun. When we were acting like we had a baby, we had fun. When we tried to do both at the same time, not so much fun. In fact, I think I came back from this vacation more tired than I’ve ever been in my life.  

But live and learn. Ever since we’ve been back, I’ve said that I’m not taking Jackson on another vacation for a very long time. But this isn’t me being selfish – this is for him as well. The happiest I have ever seen my child in his entire 10 months of existence was the moment we got back home. He was crawling all over the place smiling, laughing, beside himself with happiness at getting back to his old stomping grounds. He was like Dorothy at the end of “Wizard of Oz” or George Bailey towards the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life” hugging his toys and kissing the floor with an unbridled joy that only comes from someone who has thought that everything in the world that they knew was lost, only to have it found again.

Note: if you ask Kate, she’ll tell you all sorts of stories about how great Jackson traveled, how much fun we all had, and how I am over-exaggerating the stories above. Each one of us will swear that our version of the story is the one that is most accurate. Who is right? Well, they say that history is written by the victors… but it’s also written by the Bloggers J

Or, in the words of Homer Simpson:

Christmas. The other big news this month? It’s Jackson’s first Christmas season. Unlike any other time of year, this is where traditions are made, so it’s pretty exciting to start creating these traditions for him. Jackson has already experience d his first St. Nick, where he received a stocking filled with an avocado – his favorite! This was quickly followed by his listening of the debate between Mommy and Daddy about the rules and relationship between St. Nick and Santa Claus (which will surely become an annual tradition). He also had his first encounter with a Christmas Tree, where shockingly, he did not apply Baby Chaos Theory and tear it down, but rather gently touched it, since the needles on the tree are just like grass, which he hates. Somehow, against all odds, we have two cats and a baby in our house and our Christmas tree has never been toppled. I seriously would have bet money against that five years ago.

A while back, I heard the expression that a baby’s first Christmas is for the parents, but the second Christmas is for the baby – and having lived through half of the Christmas season, I can say that this is 100% accurate. We’re building the traditions and taking the pictures to prove it, but Jackson would be just as happy pushing the boxes that the Christmas decorations came out of as looking at them. He has no concept of what’s really going on – and frankly, will probably be traumatized by his first encounter with Santa Claus. But it’s not about him – it’s about us this year. It’s about finally having an excuse to be a kid again, to have an excuse to participate in all the activities that would seem a little weird if it was just two adults doing it.

We’re going to have our first real Christmas morning in our house. There are going to be presents* under the tree and we’re going to setup the video camera to capture him opening them. These are the videos and memories that are going to last for our entire lifetimes. It’s all very exciting. It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

* and by “presents”, I mean random things around the house we’re wrapping up. Clothes Jackson already had, toys he’s already played with, food items from the pantry. I fully anticipate this kid being spoiled by others this first Christmas, so we see no need to add to the pile. Also, it’s going to be hilarious twenty years from now when he’s watching the video of his first Christmas morning and he turns to us and says “wait a minute – you got me a box of Cheerios for Christmas?!?”