Lord Andrei's Blog

Dearest diary.. 13th of September, in the year of their lord 2006. Day 10 of my captivity.

The drums.. the drums!

My dearest schnookiemuffin asked me yesterday how things were having a child.

To answer this I need to roll back to about 2 years ago. A co-worker asked, “How are you enjoying being married?” I considered it and realized… I’ve lived with her for over a year and always enjoy her company… it really doesn’t feel any different. I just get to spend lots of time with one of my favourite people in the world.

So… how are things with the baby?

It’s a little surreal. Yes… I admit… watching the henson-eque visual effect of my son emerging out of the body of my love was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. After a few days of the amusement… I got over the feeling of, “So… they’re not going to take this away.”

Now… this wasn’t a feeling that I really wanted them to take him away. More along the lines of for the first few days he felt like ‘a loaner.’ Yeah, Andrei… we know you’re gonna have a kid so… here’s one to play with for a while… Try to actually get used to it so you’re ready.

Only thing is… this was the real thing and he’s not a loaner.

But it’s no less surreal. See… we’re in the reallllllly early stages. We have ‘baby’. Like the ones you NEVER see on TV or in the movies. There’s very little acknowledgment of the universe around him at this point. I have flashes of Dr. Keller wondering if he’s blind and deaf the way his head and eyes tend to lol (sic) around. (I’ve always wanted to use ‘lol’ as a verb, mind you. Even if I’ve spelled it wrong.) shimmeringjemmy assures me that he’s neither blind nor deaf and it’s just a lack of muscular control. I am the dad… so this means, “Okay… un-huh… you sure?”

So now we are into day 10. Yes… tomorrow he will be unable to count the days of his life on his hands. Unlike the past 10 days where he’s been unable to control them much at all. (No, sea_gaagii. No boxing gloves)

His regimen is pretty much what you’d expect. Sleep, Breast, Soil… lather, rinse, repeat. occasionally there is fidgeting and crying when we can’t quite figure out which of the above he wants or is transitioning between.

I’m trying to keep busy while being attentive. It’s amazing how I’ve transitioned from active to passive in this thing. I really can’t feed him (without help) and H spends a lot of time co-sleeping with him.

Amusingly, every-time I look at him. That internal neuron in my brain fires off and he’s the cutest thing in the world that I must protect with my life. Which of course has added some severely bizarre and sometimes annoyingly bothersome dreams.

I think we spent so much time anthropomorphizing him in the womb, that I expected a slightly higher level of sentience. But none the less, I can pick up an arm while he sleeps and it falls like a rag doll. A breathing, quivering rag doll. (Oh.. I’m going to give myself another nightmare at this rate)

I want to do more with him. Unfortunately, at this point.. the biggest game we have is, okay..let’s not look like drunk baby. Time to play strengthen that neck muscle.

It’s not bad. Really it isn’t. I’m crazy about him. Even when he makes a grimace that looks exactly like my dad having gas.

It’s just weird… and different… and glorious… and I look forward to when I can share this all with him on a level he’ll get. (and this thought is making me all misty eyed and sh&#)

I’m a dad. Who’d have thunk.

Final reaction…