Bellies and Bicycles

I knew fatherhood was going to be work. I was under no delusion that this was going to be a walk in the park. But even still, I was unprepared for just how all-consuming this business would be. Before Oliver came along, I had these grand plans to successfully juggle parenting, my day job, escape room design,  and the publishing and self-marketing of a handful of novels. It would be tough, but dammit, I would manage somehow. In reality, however, each day is a challenge to see if I can make a shower happen.

But, of course, it is also exceptionally rewarding. He isn’t doing anything particularly impressive, but it’s amazing to see what baby steps he is making each day (which, it should be noted, do not yet include actual baby steps). He has started smiling and laughing because he finds something amusing, and not just because his facial muscles are wigging out. He’s developing arm and leg rolls, which I hope he works off before high school, but for now are a fantastic indication that he’s healthy. When I sit him on my lap, he stretches and stiffens his legs as if in an attempt to stand, and he almost succeeds. He has been voted “Most Likely to Stand Erect” by his peers. (Note: his peers are the cats)

I’m also picking up some tricks of the trade, and already feel like an old pro in some departments. I can remove his diaper, apply a pee pee teepee, wipe his tuchus, apply Desitin, and stick him into a new diaper with the speed and precision of a NASCAR pit crew. Where once I was terrified of even holding any baby, now I can adjust, lower, rotate, or spin my child into the desired position with impressive dexterity. And I’m quickly figuring out what to put him in when I need him to chillax in a hurry. We have a mamaRoo - this thing should be absolutely required for all babies. It’s expensive (thank goodness for generous friends), but more essential than diapers. Let them stew in their own shit for four months, but by God, get them a mamaRoo.

Our favorite thing at this point is figuring out what entertains him. As of now, the most hilarious thing in the world to him is to have someone rub his stomach while saying, “belly...belly...” and then grab his feet, moving them quickly in a pedaling motion, while saying “bicycle bicycle bicycle bicycle!” It started as a doctor-recommended way of regulating his bowels, but he doesn’t know that. Or he does know that, and it’s what he finds so funny.

He is also still mystifyingly fascinated by our ceiling fan. It’s not even on. But for some reason, he’s obsessed with five nondescript wooden fan blades. Makes me feel more confident that he won’t find us totally boring.

Well, I hear him beginning to stir and grunt in his mamaRoo, so I should probably stop writing and attend to him. Infants and lengthy blog posts do not go hand-in-hand.

"One thing they don't mention in the parenting books:  

Your love for them grows the closer to dead they look." - Tim Minchin