April 28, 2009

- Leo Carillo State Park/Beach, near Malibu, 44 miles from Downtown LA
- April 22-23, 2009
- Shot with my new G10, which I am absolutely in love with (even though I barely know how to use it).

April 26, 2009

The funny thing is that pre-baby I vowed not to let JackAtRandom turn into a baby blog. Here I am, ten weeks after Stella came sliding out, and every single post since has been about her. Oh well.

-- By the time morning comes around, she has usually wiggled her way to the bottom of the hammock. Occasionally she'll even get her feet out.

--The Jackson smile, passed on from Great Grandpa J.

April 7, 2009

- Three words have invaded almost every one of our conversations through the day: Look at her. Yesterday Kari actually got out of bed just to come see a particular new face she was making. I know at some point we'll stop thinking each subtle nuance is important not to miss, but for now, we're keeping each other posted on every move she makes.

- She recently took a break from her normal eight to midnight fussfest and fell hard asleep instead. Kari jumped up and down first in an exaggerated state of frenzy and I followed soon after. Within two minutes I turned our kitchen table into a card table and Kari had two drinks poured, like we had been planning the night for a decade. I ran across the street to get soda water and in the elevator on the way down, I found myself unable to break my smile. It's funny how quickly we have managed to fall prey to every single new parent stereotype.

- Bathing is still a two parent routine. I'm not sure if it actually needs to be this way, but neither one of us is willing to give it up. She is way too squirmy and pudgy and adorable, especially when the water is a little too hot and her face shreeks like we have just pulled a fast one on her. I get in the tub with her and Kari sits on the bath mat and we tag team her little ass and hair and armpits and finally her hands, which always smell like dirty socks after a long run. The other day, in the early part of the cleaning, she reared her head back and pulled her legs up and squeezed out a large quantity of yellow shit that had me surrounded within seconds.

- When I previously mentioned "fussfest" earlier, I had no idea what I was talking about. Those fussy nights a week ago were nothing compared to the fussy days we had this last week. She wailed and screamed so loudly we wondered if our hearing had been affected. For the better part of three days, she was inconsolable unless one of us was holding, rocking and singing to her. The worst part was that she wouldn't even let us sit down while we held her, all but forcing us to walk laps around our loft, down our hallways and through the mellow streets of Downtown. They were the kind of days where you begin to lose your mind to doubt, confusion and questions of ability. I actually wondered in the middle of her wails if I should quit my job, pack up our belongings and move us into Grandpa and Grandma's house so we could have just an hour break. You start thinking of things you would give up or trade off in order for her screams to stop. I told her I'd give up chocolate and then I say ice cream and then I say all sugar and three hours later, I'm telling my little fauxhawk rocker I would give up food for a lengthy period of time if she would just shut up. At night, when the screaming ceased and her little hammock lulled her to sleep, we could only manage a few weak smiles before we jumped into pajamas and closed our eyes. One day your fighting over who gets to hold her and the next day your shampooing your hair five times just to buy yourself a few extra minutes.

April 5, 2009

Three minutes and sixteen seconds of stretching and smiles and chirpy parents.