So, I haven't written in a while, but I'm having a slow day at work, so here it goes...
Fatherhood is trip!!! It undoubtedly shifts your perspective on life, the future, love, puke and poop. It often feels like everything is different and nothing is different at the same time. Sure trips outside the house seem like a big ordeal now, with all of the crap you have to take with you and think about. I mean when it was just Erin and I, if we forgot something, it was no big deal. No water, we'll go thirsty! No money, we'll rely upon the kindness of strangers!
Now, a forgotten necessity could cause a chain reaction that might result in worldwide chaos. Ok. Maybe it's not so severe. In fact, it almost forces you to be a better problem solver; although your once astute critical thinking skills have been blunted by your newly acquired "baby brain". Just a small case in point:
Let's say we're out on a hike. There's a rumble in the baby sling. A 15-second fart unmatched by any bean-eating trail crew person comes out from this small bowling ball sized creature strapped to your belly. No problem, I'm a seasoned poopy pants changer (I've got 3+ months under my belt). I can do this in the woods, right here on the trail, no prob! And of course, being the well-prepared parents we are, we start pulling all of the necessary equipment to perform this operation. Changing pad, check. New diaper, check. Wipes...Wipes...Where are the god-forsaken wipes! The ensuing finger-pointing and fisticuffs don't last too long since we both realize that it isn't going to change the hard fact that the screaming child really doesn't want to sit in her own doody any longer. And who can blame her, really. What to do?
Option 1: Re-bundle her back up, poop and all and run like hell home. This would have been a good option, except the child has managed to invoke the physical laws of surface tension and pressure and forced the doo-doo right up her back. She's soaked, dirty, and pissed. Must do something now!
Option 2: Throw her in the lake! This really isn't an option, we've come to like her a little too much in the last couple of months. But...(a little piece of parental honesty here) the thought does cross your mind for half of an instant.
Option 3: My shirt. Yes, of course. Again, like I said before critical thinking has been blunted a little by the parental process. But it seems reasonable enough. Take off all of my layers, remove my t-shirt, and use as a wipe. No problem.
I'm standing half naked in the woods, it's 30 degrees. The baby's getting bundled, there's a quiet, stillness around that you can only find during the cold of winter. It's beautiful out. Amara breaks the silence, with her amazing smile and what was unmistakably a chuckle. Like, "That was fun! I just wanted to make sure I could get you to give me the shirt off your back." Well, I guess you're right little girl. You do have me wrapped around your finger.
Amara had a great first Thanksgiving at Pop pop and Bama Anderson's house. She got to show off her new hand skills (like grabbing, batting, and hand sucking) as well as her head control. She also had her first real giggle when Bama had a coughing fit. It was the funniest and cutest thing, she had us all hysterical. But she isn't laughing anymore as she battles her first cold (thanks Bama, Auntie Kimmy, Kaylee, and Uncle Joe). We are all sick with the sniffles and she struggles to sleep well at night but otherwise is proving to be a trooper. We will share more when we are all in better health.