Country road...

We took a family trip to Momma's hometown this weekend and had a great time with the family celebrating the birthdays of Loreli's cousins. Though we wish we had more time to soak up all of the love and laughter, we'll take it whenever we can get it.

On our way back home, I figured that as fast as Loreli has been growing up, it was finally time to give the little miss a chance behind the wheel...
She did alright for a first-timer... though she did have a bit of trouble keeping her eyes on the road.

The middle of a dream...

I shouldn't even be putting this in writing for fear of the inevitable jinx, but Little Miss Loreli has slept for an average of 12 hours straight for the past 3 nights. We think it's pretty obviously in direct relation to the rice cereal we've been putting in her belly, but whatever the cause, I think these are the first consecutive nights my wife has slept through the night in about a year.

It's crazy when I look at the picture above and think how quickly we've gotten to this point from the first few nights of her life, when she was allowing us about an hour of sleep at a time.

In a weird way, I miss those moments of holding her and soothing her throughout the night... sometimes sleep can be overrated, but the happiness I get from solving her problems, even at 3 am, is beyond words.

The sleep is pretty sweet too though.

Happy Birthday Riley!

My other baby—my Riley dog—is turning two today. To celebrate, we took him and Loreli to the dog park, something Jeremy and I used to do often, but since Loreli’s arrival, we haven’t done at all.

It was a perfect fall day. Crisp air. Blue sky. Perfect. It felt so good to be outside.

While we were there, Riley did the typical dog stuff. Lots of running, tail wagging, and butt sniffing—all with a giant grin on his silly dog face. He also greeted all of the people at the park. In fact, it started to seem like he was more interested in the people than the dogs, an unusual course of action for our active puppy. He even came whenever I called him, an even more unusual action for Riley. We began to realize that he really is all grown up - that his puppiness has waned and, in its stead, is lots of… dogginess.

Adding Loreli to our mixed up pack—comprised of 2 cats, 2 turtles, and 2 years ago, Riles Barkley himself—has been a big transition for all of us. For Riley, though, it’s meant a total shift of our attention, and he’s handled it pretty well. Much to Jeremy’s dismay, Riley eagerly tries to lick Loreli’s slobbery chin, her tasty toes, and her irresistible ear lobes. When we’re on the floor together, Riley sits right by her side and watches her. I think he’s almost as amazed with her as we are. He even leaves her toys alone. Not a single stuffed animal or rattle has been chewed…yet.

I’m happy that Loreli will be able to grow up with Riley by her side, and I’m pretty sure he’s happy about it too.

Civic doodie...

I answered the call of judicial justice today and served my time on jury duty... for the first time ever. I'm not sure how I dodged it for a decade,but apparently my time finally caught up to me.

As a result, I had to drop the little miss off to daycare earlier than I've ever had to before, and when I did, I informed her teachers that she had not done her "business" in over a day (apparently introducing rice cereal has some binding effects). Perhaps informed is the wrong word... I suppose warned would be a better fit.

When I picked her up later in the day, I noticed on her daily report card that her teachers felt it prudent to relate that one of her diaper changes was, in fact, epic.

I had guessed that Loreli had dropped the bomb on them when I first walked in and saw her in a different outfit than when I dropped her off... I think she had the slightest hint of a smirk as well.

It made for a fitting end to a day spent in between my new friends - an obese woman, snoring and spread-eagle, and a man who smelled like Fritos, and not in a good way.

Big poopy indeed.

Future's so bright...

All my love to my beautiful bride and my bad-ass baby for a wonderful weekend...

Snap Crackle Mom & Pop

Loreli got her first taste of "solids" this weekend - a bit of rice cereal mixed with some good ole' boobie juice. At first she thought it may have been a mistake and politely removed it from her mouth to give back to us.

Once we explained that this was going to become routine, she of course expressed her disbelief...and then her acceptance...

and then her agreement that this was, in fact, awesome.

Riley, meanwhile, will wait as long as it takes for his first taste of rice cereal...

Soon, Riley, soon...

Here comes the sun...

I don’t think I’ve ever been a morning person… Why would anyone enjoy bypassing those sweet moments of sleep that linger when your dreams are in high gear?

I knew that when our little one arrived, sleeping in would become passé, but I’ll be honest that I still try to stretch out those sunrise winks as long as possible…

However… it’s become family routine in this household that Daddy leads the morning show, while Mommy runs the matinee. And then at sunset, we share the ooh’s and aah’s over the goo’s and gah’s for those precious few moment before bedtime.

Unfortunately, that means I miss out on seeing her face light up when Mommy arrives to rescue her from daycare, the smiles when she realizes she’s finally home, and so on…

However… those moments in our mornings are amazing.

When I finally wake up and come back to reality each daybreak, I can always count on Loreli to have been gently placed in our bed next to me by her Mommy – we each do our own stretching routine, and then turn our heads to lock eyes and revel in the day to come. She gives off the littlest giggle.

Pure bliss.

I may never be a morning person, but I do love being a morning Daddy.

Unbreakable...

During a meditation exercise in one of our birthing classes in downtown New Haven, our instructor told the expectant mothers to imagine that our babies were communicating with us through the umbilical cord, a “silver line” she called it. Despite the ambient music, the darkened room, and the deep breathing… I laughed. The idea of my unborn baby talking to me through a silver cord gave me the image of her sitting in my belly with a can in one hand, like the cooks in the Progresso soup commercials, waiting for me to pick up the can at the other end of the line so that she could deliver a message to me.

“Mommy, I’d like another milkshake please.”

“If we must, dear.”

Once I started chuckling, my husband did too. We were the jerks in the room that night, the ones who ruined an otherwise peaceful moment.

Now that I’m the awestruck mother of an incredibly adorable four month old, that idea of a special mother-daughter communication line doesn’t seem so funny.

I’ll admit that it’s taken me awhile to see my daughter as her own person and not just an extension of myself. And, in fact, I’m still working on it. Before she made her debut in this world we had already gotten to know each other pretty well. I knew what times of day made her restless. I knew when she had the hiccups. I could feel her jump when a loud noise scared her. I protected my belly from the cold, from strangers, and from discomfort. And once she was born, she was mine. All mine. I guess she was my husband’s too, but whatever.

In those first few weeks, Loreli and I spent just about every minute together. She was always with me, just like before, only now she was in my arms. I could gaze into those baby blues and soak up her gummy smiles. I had total control over her environment. Too hot? How about a little AC? A dirty diaper? No problem. Hungry? I’m your woman. You get the picture. Yes, the summer was tiring, but it was also filled with the most amazing moments of my life.

But now it’s autumn. Now I don’t have nearly as many of those moments. I’m not in control of her life like I used to be. I’m forced to have faith in others for her safety, for her comfort, for her happiness. I’m forced to see her as her own person, and, if there’s anything positive for me about this whole daycare experience, it’s the realization that my independent little four month old and I will always share a bond that is inseparable, no matter how many miles are in between us.

It may not be as shiny as a silver line, but that’s okay… Thanks to our little one, I’ve got more than enough light in my life.

Working for the weekend...

It’s not easy… this whole “being a working parent” thing.

I suppose it’s the norm now - to have your young child in daycare for a large part of the week, but it sucks. It really sucks.

It creates unreasonable animosity and jealousy – towards the daycare itself for taking half of your paycheck, towards those who are lucky enough to not have to deal with such pain, towards the past generations that found it unacceptable, towards anything and everything. Those feelings fester and feel as though not a single person could understand or relate...

Sometimes when I’m at work, I think to myself that all I want in life is more time spent with the most important person in the world.

I make it through the day by realizing that the work I do provides for her wants and needs.

I often hear myself telling my wife that we’re doing this for her, so that we can put food in her belly and diapers on bottom, but sometimes it’s hard enough just to convince myself.

I know that you could take every possession I have, that I could be completely broke tomorrow, and that I would still do whatever it took to keep my daughter safe and happy.

But the reality is that one day soon she’s going to ask me for a new dolly… a new outfit… a new puppy… a new experience… And just four months in, I already know I don’t want to ever look into those ocean blue eyes and respond with disappointment. And so I keep moving on.

Every moment I spend driving away from the daycare building biting my lip, sitting at my desk listening to someone else’s petty problem, holding the phone slightly away from my ear as my boss yells, I just keep thinking of those eyes. And that smile. And how it feels when I hold her ever so close.

It’s not easy… this whole “life” thing.

But so long as I can stay lost in those eyes… I’ll keep moving on.

And away we go...

In late December of last year, I started keeping an old-fashioned journal to communicate how I felt to the littlest person I could possibly imagine. In my mind, she was very tiny and quite charming. She wore a fancy tiara and knew kung fu. She had beautiful eyes and was good at keeping secrets. She had been living in my wife’s belly for a few months.

My wife and I ended up writing to her through that journal every night until one day she actually showed up. She screamed, I cried, and we’ve all been awake since that point. From then until now, I’ve stayed pretty busy scrubbing nipples, singing songs about poopie, and folding ridiculously small clothes.

The idea to move on from the journal to this blog was inspired by our dear friend Jeni (check out her own beautiful story at youandmeandellab.blogspot.com), along with the idea of eternal embarrassment and eventual delight for our lovely and lively daughter, Loreli.

Though we want nothing more than to have this read by the world, truth be told… this is here for her. Just like everything is, at least in my mind (where you’re all wearing top hats as you read this)…