Fooled You!!!

"Mommy, I see you snapping that picture with your cell phone. Now feel the thunder!"

One of the most special moments for a new parent is when your baby smiles at you for the first time. It has happened at various times for Supermom, various times for dad, and a few times when we were in the same room. I wondered if it was something I said, some crazy face I made, or maybe he was just thinking about all of the trouble he was about to cause. Whatever was triggering his smile, I wanted to repeat the behavior and see it again.

Then Supermom picked up a book titled "What to Expect the First Year" that she had been browsing through since the day we came home from the hospital. "The First Year" is a follow-up best-seller to "What to Expect When You're Expecting." Basically these books cover all aspects of pregnancy and the first year week-by-week. She wanted to see what the book had to say about smiling, and then she dropped this piece of knowledge on me.

"It says here that a smile this early means he has gas."

The last few blog entries have been all about my son's digestive system...in the front door and out the back. So I apologize in advance, but I'm going to tackle Cubby's mysterious and intriguing smile, and it may or may not involve his digestive system.

Because I'm lazy, and my office has a lightning fast high-speed internet connection, I logged on to Google and searched for "Why Babies Smile." You would not believe the amount of information that is out there. If you don't believe me, do it for yourself.

A couple of anecdotal comments from Yahoo! Answers seemed to confirm what the book says. My favorite was from someone with the screen name Denis9705 who says "Because they remember the one about the dog under the table." Kudos to you, Denis9705. I laughed out loud.

After more browsing the "gas relief" theory seemed to gather more momentum. Until I stumbled across a website called "JustTheFactsBaby." An entry dated 7/14/09 cited Dr. Daniel Messinger, an associate professor of psychology and pediatrics at the University of Miami. From the website:

Baby smiles at 0-1 months
Neonatal smiling occurs from birth to one month of age and shows no emotional content. Smiles are spontaneous and often occur while the baby is drowsy or during REM stages of sleep. Baby smiles are subcortical in origin and will actually decrease with maturity (so premature babies smile more than full-term babies). And, contrary to popular belief, baby smiles have nothing to do with gas.

Ah-Ha!!! So it's neither!

When it comes right down to it I'm still not convinced the gas theory isn't accurate. Especially considering my son seems to enjoy ripping a juicy fart so much.

I can't decide, and because I live in this beautiful democracy we call the United States, I'm going to throw it open to a vote. Cast your ballot in the poll.

Baby Fountain...

What you see above is known as a "PeePee TeePee for the Wayward WeeWee". I'm not kidding, that's what it says on the packaging. It was a gift from one of Supermom's co-workers, and its function is very simple. When the diaper is off Cubby, you're in the firing line unless that little cap is covering him up. Up until a few days ago we never had to put it to use.

This particular diaper change started like any other. Cubby awoke and began to wiggle around. Then he started to grunt, groan and whimper. Then he let loose with a scream. It's not a sustained cry, but more like a short burst of disgust. This is a sign that his diaper needs to be changed; the boy has had enough of lying in his own filth. I would react the same way.

Supermom was in the other room, so daddy was back to the changing table with baby. Everything was proceeding as normal, and when I slipped the new diaper under Cubby's backside I turned to grab another wipe to finish the job. As I turned back I heard something that sounded like rain. Cubby was soaking the changing table, my shirt, and even hit the crib in a few places. I quickly folded the diaper over to stop the sprinkler, and busted out laughing. Supermom heard my guffaws from the other room and came quickly. Cubby-1, Daddy-0.

Because my office is so close to the house I have the luxury of going home every day for lunch. It's great to see my beautiful wife and my son during the middle of the work day. That next day the lunch hour arrived and I went home. The minute I walked inside Supermom began to recount her brush with the sprinkler earlier that morning. Apparently the circumstances were pretty much the same EXCEPT Cubby was pointed the other direction. He proceeded to soak the other side of the changing table, the glider/rocking chair, some of the carpet, and narrowly missed hitting mommy.

Our son apparently has the aim of a well-trained sniper. Every diaper change now includes the possibility of getting hosed. Supermom and I are now employing the PeePee TeePee whenever possible but it doesn't always work. If Cubby is wiggling around, the TeePee will not stay put. I found that out the hard way last night. Right after his pre-bedtime feeding (sometime around 9:30 p.m.) he dropped quite a load in his diaper. Supermom heard the grunts, felt the vibration, and prepared me for the worst. We agreed it was probably best if we tag teamed the diaper.

The changing was going well and the new diaper (with TeePee) was in position. Cubby kicked his legs, the TeePee fell off, and he let loose. I tried to get out of the way, exclaimed "You gotta be kidding me," and tried to block the stream. Supermom was laughing so hard she almost pulled out her stitches.

If the last few days are any indication, we might have our hands full.

Dirty Diapers, Dirty Towels, Dirty Dad

"Yes, I DO feel better. Sorry for pooping on the towel."

I haven't been updating the blog nearly as much as I would have liked...I guess kids do tend to eat up a chunk of your free time. But it's all worthwhile, at least that's what I keep hearing. Just kidding, it's been a blast to this point. Of course Cooper pretty much eats/sleeps/loads diapers, so there isn't a lot of "parenting" and mostly "chaperoning".

My last blog entry promised an update on diaper changing in the middle of the night, as well as Cubby's first bath. I'll start with the diaper changing, because I tend to do that a little more frequently. In case you don't have children of your own, the "dirty" diapers when they are newborn look more like he/she has been consuming mustard. There are no "logs", there are no "baby ruths". And it is very easy to get this on you. Which I learned during a late-night changing session in Cubby's room. Keep in mind the changing room was mostly dark except for the small lamp on a dresser.

I was half-asleep when Supermom elbowed me in the ribs and said, "I just fed him 30 minutes ago...he probably needs his diaper changed." A good husband would have read between the lines and figured out that she meant she wasn't going to do it. I, however, am not that smart. The second elbow came flying about 30 seconds after the first when Supermom realized I hadn't figured out what she meant.

Since Cubby is bunking in our love nest until he's a little older, I scooped him out of the cradle and whisked him off to his room and the changing table. Cubby had loaded up a doozy for dear old dad, and I commenced to a-changin'. In my fury (and sleepiness) I wasn't quite as careful with the hand/wipe interaction as I am normally. Some of the GSR (gun shot residue) had found its way to the back of my right hand.

At this late hour I wasn't completely grossed out by it, nor did I really care to be honest. I took him back to his cradle, washed my hands, and went back to bed.

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A few days after Cubby came home from the hospital Supermom decided it was time for his first "bath". Actually it is more like a "wiping" because you use a wash cloth and some warm water. Anyway, one of the many baby shower gifts we received was a sponge in the shape of a turtle. Pretty cool, huh? Supermom put down a white towel over the sponge, I'm guessing to keep baby warm. The "wiping" was proceeding without a hitch, and Cubby even seemed to enjoy it a little.

When we removed the diaper and started cleaning his "manly" areas I heard the first indication that something was about to go down. Cubby is a lot like a thunderstorm--you hear the thunder before you see the lightning. In fact, this is how Supermom and I discuss whether he needs a fresh diaper.

"Was that thunder or lightning?"

"It sounded pretty wet, I'm guessing it was lightning."

Well, the thunder came and went. But just before Supermom slapped on a new diaper, Cubby let loose with just a little squirt of lightning. Have you ever dribbled a little mustard on a white shirt? How's that for a visual? The good news is that the stain has been removed from the towel. The memory will last a lifetime.

Settling In at Home

It's been a wild few days at the ranch a.k.a. Casa Overocker. Cooper was ready to come home last Friday, Supermom wasn't able to go home until Saturday. So the Overocker family waited until momma bear was ready to come home, which we did Saturday afternoon. SuperGrandma(Supermom's mother) accompanied us and has been holding watch ever since. She's scheduled to go home today (Wednesday) but will find that to be somewhat difficult when I lock her in Cooper's room, prison-style.

NahNah (pronounced gnaw-gnaw) was a whirlwind the first few days. Because Cooper arrived a little early, we hadn't quite finished washing/drying/folding all his clothes. Do kids really need that many? Supernahnah sprung into action, washing/drying/folding in addition to cooking, cleaning, changing diapers with one hand, burping, rocking, solving quantum physics equations in between naps and offering a workable solution to health insurance reform. She seems to be holding up well.

Supermom is feeling much better, and that has this proud husband/father feeling a lot better. Because Cooper was delivered C-section, there was obviously a lot of soreness and swelling. But Supermom is a quick healer and can really tolerate pain, so she's improving quickly every day. I still have to remind her to take things slow, but she's listening (first time for everything) and seems to be well on the road to recovery.

If you care to read my thoughts on the little guy, feel free to read on. If not, I'd stop right here.

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I imagine most fathers feel the same way I did when Supermom was pregnant. She went through the body changes and hormones, she felt him when he kicked or turned, and I pretty much just tried to take care of her. I guess I was also taking care of him, but it's hard to feel that way when you don't get to experience the same things she does. So right up until the day we delivered I really didn't feel like I was part of the "process".

But all of that goes out the window when you see your child for the first time. So many emotions, and I'm totally shocked I didn't cry like the day they slapped my ass for the first time. He's already got me wrapped around his little finger. I can't wait to teach him to read books, play hide-and-seek, swing a baseball bat, rub the dogs' belly in just the right spot to get their leg kicking, and hug momma "super tight." It's gonna be a fun ride.

In the next installment, diaper changing in the middle of the night and Cooper's first bath. Thanks for reading.

Early Arrival

I had planned to tell the story of how/when/where we found out Superwife was expecting our first little bundle of joy. Based on today's events that blog post will be posted in the "good ideas" file for a little while longer.

Wednesday, August 5th started out like most days around the Overocker household. Woke up, stumbled into the kitchen to get Superwife's breakfast ready, yelled at the dogs because they were barking, and went back to glance through the closet before settling on a polo/slacks combination that didn't completely clash. It also happened to be the morning of Superwife's next checkup, and I had skipped the last few. Being a month away from d-day (that's delivery day) it was probably a good idea if I schlepped my way to see the doctor, too. Superwife being the morning person she is decided to schedule the first time slot, 7:15 a.m.

Quick sidenote...the pregnancy had been completely hassle-free. No morning sickness, no swelling, no strange cravings that had me searching for the only donut shop open at 2 a.m., nada.
The visit begins just like every other. Then the doctor comes in with the "vitals" and says she is concerned about Jodie's blood pressure.

"Are you ready to have this baby today?"

Me-"huh?"

We're immediately sent to the labor/delivery section (area, floor, ward, whatever they call it) of the hospital for some blood work and monitoring. The nurse in triage says, "your blood pressure sucks." I think to myself that can't be a good sign, but we'll wait until the situation stabilizes.

Another nurse comes in with the blood work, checks the BP, and says, "your blood work is fine, your blood PRESSURE is crappy." How are you supposed to interpret that? Is it better or worse than 'sucks'? Is there a scale of colorful language, something like the Department of Homeland Security has for the terror-alert threat level?

Needless to say Jodie is admitted and given her own private room, which I have to admit is bigger (and nicer) than the first room I slept in during my freshman year of college.

I've given you way more detail than you care to read about at this point, but after inducing Superwife the heartrate monitor showed Cooper's heartbeat beginning to slow a bit. Nothing dangerous, but the doctor played it safe and decided he was going to come visit sooner than Superwife's body was progressing. No more than 10 minutes after that decision was made I was sliding on the sexiest coveralls you've ever seen. I have to admit I would make one handsome doctor.

About a half-hour later, Cooper James was born. He was three weeks early, but Superwife and baby are both well. He tipped the scales at 5 lbs. 8 oz. and was 18 3/4 inches long. Visual evidence is below.

Welcome

I've been toying with the idea of starting a blog. I guess I felt Facebook and Twitter don't really allow someone to pour all of their feelings into something. You're text limited, and it doesn't allow you to explore a certain topic or opinion. So into the blogosphere I go.

Thanks for visiting. I'll try to keep this updated as much as possible leading up to the big day (which is August 25th, according to my Superwife's doctor), as well as after Cooper's arrival. I will be referring to her as "Superwife" until I receive permission to use her name. She has no idea I've started this blog, so we'll see how she reacts. Based on all of the literature and baby classes, a woman needs Superhuman strength to go through the act of childbirth. My hat's off to you, dear.

I'll have more on how & when we found out "Superwife" was pregnant in my next blog post.