I actually wrote this last week when I first tried to get this blog off the ground, but Alison's making me re-post it so it doesn't look like she wrote it: It was meant to be the first blog posting for this site.
Liam was born three weeks ago today. We call him Fusser, Frogger (he sits like a frog), Sweet Pea, Lil' Boy, Baby, and of course, Pooper. It is the first and last nicknames that actually mean the most, since when he is awake he's usually fussing (this is new parent talk for "acting insane for no obvious reason") or pooping. Often both. We are in the stages where he shows us very little gratitude, and getting him to roll his head around with a half smirk for 5 minutes is about as rewarding as it gets.
My wife and I haven't slept in the same bed together in weeks. We've slept in the same room, we've slept near each other, but we're in a loop right now where I take Liam for the first half of the night, and she takes him for the second half of the night. This ensures that we each get about 4-6 hours of sleep and I'm not a zombie at work. It almost seems normal now, which is why I'll be grateful when we can finally put him in his own room, but he's simply too new and fragile to chance that right now.
We spend an enormous amount of time trying to figure out what to do next, and our impulses simply cannot be acted on without factoring in which one of us will watch the baby. At times, he's easy to deal with and can be thrown into any old baby-related sleep area while we do the dishes and watch movies. There are darker moments, like when he decides that at 1 AM the only way he'll stop crying is to be tucked deep into his father's armpit where he radiates heat and snores his Mogwai-like baby snore.
Before this baby, we were extremely active and social. Friday night we'd hit a restaurant and then sip drinks in a fun date ritual, while Saturday was often a wilder time when dancing or going to a friend's party was on order. We could hit concerts on week nights and not suffer too badly, we could drive to Detroit on a whim if we felt like eating some barbecue downtown, and in general we were free spirits who supported one another's outside activities.
With Liam guiding our lives now, we are definitely trying to figure out what life is becoming for us. That lifestyle is now buried, perhaps to be exhumed once our child is out of college and we're much too old to go dancing every Saturday. We can go back to some of it thanks to the support of grandparents and friends, but it is obvious that we're on a new, more "adult" path now.
Alison, who has always been the mature one in our relationship, is settling into this lifestyle a bit easier than I am. I, on the other hand, am trying to figure out how old my son can be when he sees his first summer blockbuster and remembers it, or when he'll reach the stage where we can play in the backyard together without worrying about diapers and feeding times being lined up perfectly. In short, I am hoping my inner child and his literal child can meet up sooner than later.
But don't let me sound like being a father is a downer. I love that kid more than you could ever imagine, and seeing these minor developments in him is more amazing than any flavored martini or ear-splitting concert. But to know the whole story, you must understand that we're both transitioning from a very different life into whatever this next life is... but we're very excited for this next life to begin.
Anyway, that's my POV on where we're at right now. I'll chime in again soon enough, but hopefully that's a decent introduction to where we're at.
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