Let's Celebrate!

I'm not a "card guy" per se. I rarely think about sending birthday cards, or having congratulation cards on hand for various accomplishments of my friends and family. In fact, I rarely see the inside of a Hallmark store unless it's the day of the event or I've been dragged in by Heather. It just doesn't occur to me that sending a card is the proper response to anything.

But some friends of ours are getting ready to baptize their first child and we needed a card to go along with the gift. So while she tried to select the perfect "Happy Baptism" card to express how we felt, I decided to peruse the aisles and see what other special occasions could be marked with the presentation of art combined with clever lines of text from the people at Hallmark. That's when I came across this:



That's right, "Thank You For Dinner". While I will admit that I may be on the far end of the spectrum regarding how often someone sends a card... who would possibly send one of these? And what do you write on the inside?

"Dear Thelma, the meatloaf last Tuesday was fabulous. The potatoes were a little dry, but that's to be expected from a convection oven. Hope you and your 15 cats are doing well."

I guess this is yet another product that I'm not the target market for. I also don't understand the creepy valentines doll that sings "Lets Get It On" to you when you enter the store. But enough about my inability to understand the appeal of Hallmark. If I don't get started on these "Thanks for Reading my Blog" cards, I'll never get all of them in the mail.

Rob -

Thanks Mitch!

Senator Mitch McConnell thinks that Americans have become desensitized to how much money 1 trillion dollars really is.

I can't speak for everyone else, but as an "Average American" I know exactly how much money 1 trillion dollars is. I don't need loosely veiled comparisons to spending habits in the time of Jesus Christ or the visual of 1 trillion dollar bills stacked halfway to the moon. I know that those sums of money don't actually exist as anything more than concepts. If you can't comprehend it, try and type a 1 with 12 zeros behind it into your desktop calculator. You'll most likely run out of space at 10 million, which puts you at 1/100,000th of the amount you're looking to understand.

So Senator, thanks but I understand the concept of 1 trillion dollars. Free up a few hours in your schedule and I'll be happy to come to Washington with 100,000 desktop calculators and explain it to you. It's becoming increasingly obvious that you and all your congressional buddies have no idea.

-Rob-

An Open Letter to 21 Year old Braeden

Dear Braeden,

This morning, (this Sunday, weekend, no-work morning) you woke me up at 5:45 am. I stubbed my toe on your exer-saucer and nearly broke my neck when I stepped on your rattle. I then fed you breakfast which you promptly spit up all over my bare feet. I thought I could grab a quick nap in the late morning but you only slept for 20 minutes and I just had time to clean your bottles out.

When you woke up, you slobbered all over my face and left the largest drool string I've ever seen on my forehead. I then changed your diaper and you thought it was hilarious when you filled the new one with poo before we even left the changing table. You've managed to leave bodily functions, clothes and toys from one end of the house to the other even though you technically aren't even mobile yet.

I'm writing this because I want to remember today and say thanks. It's been the best day of my life just like every day before it for the past 6 months. Love you buddy...

-Daddy-

Some "Ups" are better than others...

So, The Dink as we so affectionately refer to Braeden around the house has learned a few tricks in his 5.5 short months of life. I like to call them his "Ups". Braeden has been standing "up" since he was about 3 months old. We will hold his arms and he'll stand "up" and then he'll actually take steps forward with a little help. He doesn't have the whole "Balance" thing down but how many of us honestly can say we've mastered balance? So we'll call "up" number 1 standing. It's pretty awe inspiring to see such a little man accomplishing such a monumental task.

So what cold be harder than standing "up" you might ask? Well surprisingly to me, sitting "up" is much harder. It requires muscles beyond just the legs, it requires balance, and it requires a thorough understanding of your center of balance, which is hard to find when your head makes up 40% of your total body weight. But The Dink has it down now. He can sit "up" on his own! So I now submit for you, the steps in mastering sitting. I can honestly say I've never been so proud of anything in my life! (By the way, if you're still wondering who he looks like, check out the 5th picture down. Very obviously Heather...)

Is that Monkey Bling?...

This is what happens when Mommy and Daddy both get to pick out a Halloween costume. By the way, his initials are BMC...

7 mL from failure...

It's been a very busy last few months in our house. Thank you all for the emails and gentle nudges for news about Mr. B. He's been doing great and Heather and I have been very fortunate that he very rarely complains about anything. We're extremely impressed that he can read a clock already. Every three hours on the dot he lets us know that it's time to eat. And he's great about following his schedule and sleeping through the night! (except when Grandma Binnie is around... hmmmm...) But enough about him, we all know this is a blog about my struggles as a new father right?

My sister once had an idiot boyfriend that assumed that since she was part Hispanic, she should be able to speak Spanish. In his mind there was a lonely thought floating around that it was somehow encoded in her DNA to understand the language. I always thought that it was a stupid idea to assume that your genetic makeup could have anything to do with what you know or learn. That is... until now.

Braeden's bottles are all measured in ounces. 7 am - 5 oz. of formula. 10 am 5 oz. of formula. 1 pm 5 oz. of formula. Etc... - I can go to the sink at any time and put the bottle under the faucet, turn on the water and hit 5 oz. with my eyes closed every time. Want me to stand on my head and do it, because I'm sure I can? Left handed, right handed, behind my back??- Bring it on.

Here's the problem. His bottle is in good ol' American ounces (let's hear it for arbitrarily making a decision on how to measure things huh?) But his bottle warmer requires 7 mL of water. What The...??!! - How did milliliters get into my house? It takes me a good 5 minutes to hit that stupid mark. I fill it t0 4, then re-fill it to 10, pour out a little and I'm back to 3, re-fill and I'm back up to 11... I can't do it. I end up dripping water into that little cup forever trying to hit the mark. The only explanation is that, as an American, I can't use mL's at all. Even though there's a common-sense science that the entire rest of the world understands behind using a Liter based system, my U.S.A. brain just can't comprehend it. But I can beat it. Call it ingenuity, call it improvisation, call it whatever you want. I'm going to put a piece of masking tape over the measurements and mark off 7 mL. But instead of labeling it with a 7, I'm going to label it as .24 oz - and just like that, I've solved the genetic default I'm cursed to live with. That's right, prepare to see one man's mastery over weights and measures.

Rob - 1
The First Years Bottle Warmer Company - 0

-Rob, Heather and Braeden

The Rest of the Story...

I've tried to sit down and write this blog four separate times now. But I always feel guilty on the off occasion that I have a few minutes to do nothing... that I am in-fact doing nothing. So then I get up and wash bottles, or put in a load of laundry, or mow the lawn. It's always something. I am amazed that we weren't the most super-productive people on earth before Braeden got here, because we apparently had hours and hours every day that weren't filled with him. What the heck did we do with our time??

Last Sunday, as we were rapidly approaching the end of week 4 with Mr. Braeden, both Heather and I were feeling the pangs of insomnia. You could measure the longest stretch of sleep either of us had gotten over the last month with an egg timer. So on Sunday, with friends in town and the adults outnumbering the children 4-2 I decided to catch a quick hour long nap. I looked at the clock, which read 5:05 an asked Heather to wake me up at 6:00. She said ok and I was out cold before my head even hit the pillow. Before I knew it, Heather was next to the bed waking me up, and I have to admit, I actually felt a little refreshed! So imagine my surprise when I look at the clock and discovered it was after 7 pm.


My first thought was how sweet it was of her to let me sleep so long while she took care of the baby... Little did I know how devious my wife really is. As the story slowly unfolded over the next two hours, it was revealed that my innocent request for a nap was actually a calculated move in the epic battle of mommy vs. daddy. I asked her to wake me up at six specifically because I decided that an hour long nap didn't qualify as "Sleep" so when it came time to decide who would take what feedings, I wouldn't be handicapped by my foray into snooze-ville. Chalk one up for the guys, right? Wrong...

Heather saw right through my plan and decided that if she didn't wake me up until 7, then I had a two hour nap, which in the unwritten book of new parenting does in-fact qualify as legitimate sleep. So she intentionally left me snoozing for her own personal gain... well played Mrs. Carlton, well played. I guess that will teach me to underestimate her. Next time I want to take an hour long strategic nap, I'll set the alarm.