Day 145 - Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News...

I'm just going to dive right into this today. Doctor's visits are no fun. If you couldn't tell from that simple statement, Ellie had her nine-month checkup yesterday.  

Honestly, going into the appointment, Bethany and I were feeling absolutely wonderful about where our daughter was in terms of her development. She is crawling/climbing over/up everything in sight. We're pretty sure that she's at least mildly intelligent based upon her penchant for exploration, not to mention her desire to watch and figure out exactly how things work. Ellie's even beginning to babble like a mental patient so we may be getting close to her first real word.

We've been absolutely stoked to see Ellie mature and develop so much in a relatively short period of time. However, the thing that we were most excited about was Ellie's growth on the scale. For lack of a better term, Ellie's always been petite. That is especially true when you compare her to other babies in her age range. It's kind of reminiscent of looking at a Yellow Lab sitting next to a Pug. Wait, scratch that last thought. I don't enjoy the idea of comparing my beautiful daughter to one of the world's ugliest canines. 

But Jesse, it's got a little suit on and everything...

Back to the topic. We've finally gotten Ellie's weight to approach the 14 pound mark. Not only that, but the baby's getting quite the little belly on her. Yes, she's still small but everything seemed very proportional to us. It's not like she has a massive head (although she does think highly of herself). So obviously, I rolled into the doctor's office for Ellie's appointment absolutely stoked. Why? Well, I felt like we had finally seen Ellie growing well and just knew that we were going to get a metaphorical pat on the head from the doctor for a job well done.

Either that or I'll give myself a nice head pat. :)

Once Ellie and I arrived at the office yesterday, we went through the normal routines. Check in, watch about 15 minutes of 'Ice Age' in the waiting room, go back to the examination room, strip the baby to her diaper, allow the nurse to take Ellie's temperature, help the nurse measure her head circumference, length, and weight, wrap her up in a blanket, and finally, wait for the doctor to arrive.

Once the doctor came in, it was pretty evident that he was not happy (and therefore, I wouldn't be receiving my metaphorical pat on the head). He immediately voiced his displeasure with the way we were feeding Ellie. And I quote, "I don't know what I need to do to get it through yours and your wife's head that I am very concerned about the rate of growth here. I even had to get Bethany on the phone so that he could speak to her personally.

By the time it was all said and done, we had scheduled an appointment for our family to meet with a child nutritionist and agreed to bring Ellie in for weekly weight checks until our doctor said otherwise. In addition, the doctor told us that if he didn't see the rate of growth he wanted (an ounce a day), he would begin ordering a cavalcade of medical tests to be performed on Ellie. That is until he could find just what was wrong. To which the optimist/realist in me says, "Uh, nothing."

I realize that our doctor is a professional and we are trusting him to care for our child. However, I don't appreciate his alarmist qualities which he apparently possesses in spades. That doesn't even include the lack of respect that he shows me as a stay-at-home dad. It's like he has the belief that I must be incompetent or else I wouldn't be doing so. I've actually been asked if he can trust that I will pass information onto my wife. Seriously dude, why wouldn't I? 

I just have to believe that Ellie's care is in the right hands. As long as he is caring for her health in the proper manner and showing her the appropriate respect, then it really doesn't matter how he treats Bethany and I. At least I guess that's how I feel. Talk to me after the 12-month appointment and I'll let you know.  #DaddyWrite

If only the cast of 'Scrubs' was real...

Day 143 - Doppelmommies

One question. It's really quite simple. A one word answer will suffice. Do you believe in evil twins? Yes or no? Simply put, I don't believe in evil twins despite the whole 'Star Trek' Evil Spock has a goatee thing. The primary reason being that people really don't have goatees that are styled that perfectly. Not to mention the idea of there being someone out there looking exactly like me with only the propensity to do evil.

Spock! Now available in Original and Goatee.

Just because I don't believe in evil twins doesn't mean that I don't believe in doppelgangers. If you're not familiar with the concept of doppelgangers, German folklore teaches us that a doppelganger is a look-alike or double of a living person (I guess that I can thank my brother-in-law for having German stuff on die brain after a weekend with him). I've seen doppelgangers in play a couple of times so knew it was possible. Well, after today, Ellie knows the existence of doppelgangers first hand.

First things first, the three of us just got back late last night from a weekend trip to Illinois, riding with Bethany's sister and her family to see her brother. Needless to say, Ellie was a little messed up from her weekend away between long hours in the car, different eating hours, different bedtimes, and sleeping in a new place. That is plain and evident from her refusal to sleep in her crib last night, instead confiscating my bed and exiling me to the twin bed in her room.

Of course, like the eternal optimist I claim to be, I chose to believe that today would be a different story. Rainbows, sunshine, and kittens for my sweet baby. Unfortunately that was not to be the case. Ellie pretty much began the day in a foul mood as soon as her mommy left for the day. No matter where attempted naps would occur, sleep did not follow. After almost three hours of crying, I decided to not push the issue on a nap anymore and get Ellie up.

After downing four ounces of milk, Ellie was a brand-new baby showing off her mad crawling skills, playing plenty, and gracing me with lots of laughs and smiles. Once 11:00 hit, Ellie started in with some massive yawns and allowed me to put her down for a nap. Not long after that, my parents, who were in town for an eye appointment, called to see if we would like to join them for lunch. Like a smart dad, I gave a non-committal answer saying that it would work if Ellie woke up in time.

Luckily for me, Ellie woke up about 10 minutes before we would need to meet them and since she had been in a good mood, I decided it was safe to go. I packed some lunch for Ellie as well as a multitude of toys and we headed to Olive Garden for lunch. 

One of Ellie's favorite things is to be out of the house and she especially shows an affinity for restaurants. The girl absolutely loves being around people and thinks it's a blast to just watch people in their natural environment. Maybe she'll do something cool someday and go into some kind of wildlife ecology like Jane Goodall. Or she'll just work at a restaurant for minimum wage and tips. Time will tell.

After Ellie was held by my parents accordingly, I sat her in her high chair and began to feed her some yogurt which was met by a variety of sounds basically meaning "More." This would persist until the restaurant began to fill up with the lunch crowd giving Ellie plenty of people to watch. All was good until she glanced at a table approximately 12 feet away from us only to see someone that looked kind of familiar to her. Brownish-blonde hair, slim build, and tall. In the eyes of my daughter, she wholeheartedly believed she had found her mommy. Unfortunately for me, she happened to be a doppelmommy. 

As Ellie began screaming at the top of her little lungs for the doppelmommy to pick her up, I excavated her from the high chair and carried my screaming child to the lobby to calm her down. My mother followed shortly thereafter to check on the two of us. At this point, Ellie had mostly calmed and was even smiling a little again so I thought it safe to return to our table. 

I treated Ellie to some bites of breadstick upon our return intermixed with bites of yogurt. All was well until Ellie heard a waiter delivering salads to a nearby table. As Ellie glanced over, she was reminded of the presence of the doppelmommy. Ellie would turn into a screaming, quaking mass at the sight of the doppelmommy as I carried her out of the restaurant again. 

Try as I might, I could not calm my daughter on this occasion. I solemnly dialed my father's cell phone to ask him if one of them could bring out Ellie's things as we needed to head home. My mom came shortly with Ellie's effects as well as my meal-to-go. My mom poked her head inside the car to bid adieu to her grandchild only to be met with epic screams that basically meant, "Get out of my face." With that, we left Olive Garden and headed home where Ellie was put down for another nap.

While the issue ended up resolved in the end, I now find myself living in a mild state of fear. Am I going to need to worry about doppelmommies wherever I travel from here on out? If so, I may never leave the house again. At least not without my newly patented baby blinders. Maybe that'll finally be the product that gets me on 'Shark Tank'. Right Cuban? #DaddyWrite

Dude, I'm trying to watch the Mavs here. Stop bugging me about being on 'Shark Tank!'

Day 142 - Shocking Scleras Since 2017

As the premier stay-at-home dad blog based in the Northland of the Kansas City metropolitan area, it's important to remember #DaddyWrite doesn't just exist only to provide humor-based looks into the daily life of a stay-at-home dad. Sometimes there are much more pressing matters than that. Therefore, with great trepidation, I would like to present a very special edition of #DaddyWrite.

It's time to acknowledge a little mentioned fact about the American workplace. That fact being that it's perilous and wrought with danger. Any job can be dangerous. If you're a laborer, you've got to lift with your knees, not your back. You could fall from a high place if you're not careful (like I tend to do when I climb ladders). You could even be run over by a runaway forklift; at least I assume that can happen. In an office setting, there is also much danger afoot. Carpal tunnel, eye strain, the sedentary lifestyle. All silent killers (All research is collected from a season 2 episode of 'The Office' entitled 'Safety Training').

Why do I bring this up? Well, I never realized it before but being a stay-at-home dad is perilous and wrought with danger in its own fashion. Furthermore, it's not just due to my natural ineptitude for all things. It has less to do with that and more with the fact that Ellie has trained her entire life to become a force of destruction the likes of which the world has never seen. Therefore, it's important to be prepared. 

Story time. Since Ellie's crawling now, I actually spend quite a bit of my day down on the floor with her. It gives me a better opportunity to play and interact with my daughter rather than sitting on a sofa zoning out. Also, it's a bonus that she really likes it too. One of her favorite activities includes using me as a jungle gym. She'll pull her little body up and over mine as I lay there. If I'm sitting upright, she'll grab a firm grip on my shirt collar and muscle her way up to a stand. Nothing is off limits. She'll tug on my nose, grab my teeth, give endless "Wet Willys", and shove her hand in my belly button. If she wasn't so cute, I'd say she's just like my childhood bully.

Yesterday, I found myself laying on the floor as Ellie played across the room. As she was starting to engage in mischief, I called out her name and opened my arms as if to offer her a hug. Ellie met my gaze and happily shuffled across the room to meet me. As she drew near, I rolled onto my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows to meet her. 

When I'm in this position, Ellie generally will come in close and bless me with a sloppy, wet kiss. That would not be the case this time however. Ellie leaned in close, pacifier in mouth, and touched me in the left eye. Suddenly, I yelped out in distress. The static electricity Ellie built up on her trek across the room had transferred straight into my eye, breaking through the cornea, searing the pupil, irritating the iris, and litigating(?) the lens. The sclera, retina, and vitreous would tingle with pain as well (And yes, I did look up the parts of the eye on a handy, dandy diagram). My eye would actually feel numb for the rest of the day as a result of the rogue sparks.

It's black and white so you can print it off for your kids/grandkids/random child at the bus stop to color.

So it is, with great sincerity, I encourage all of you. Wear proper eye protection when engaging in playtime with a child. It may not just be your eye that I save, it may be my own.  #TheMoreYouKnow.

Does having a fake doctor assist me with this message help my cause?

Thanks to my lovely wife's co-workers for valuing the integrity of my vision and providing me with the proper equipment to ensure my continued sight. I will treasure it always. #DaddyWrite

Day 140 - When the Baby Causes a Jump Scare...

I absolutely detest being scared.  Seriously, if you do, I'll legitimately be ticked off at you for having done so.  Honestly, I don't think I have ever once found myself desiring a good scare.  I've pretty much limited my exposure to scary movies over the years because I just don't understand the appeal.  I will admit there are a few good ones out there.  'The Sixth Sense' is pretty stellar (Spoiler alert...Bruce Willis was a ghost the whole time!).  There's even a whole genre of mobile games designed solely to create jump scares in people.  I just don't get it.  Maybe I'm not the target demographic though.  Why do I bring all of this up?  Well, Ellie has discovered that I am easily startled and has decided to take full advantage of it for her amusement.

Well, I see an out-of-work child actor...

For example, Ellie's startling mobility has caused me to need to reevaluate the way I spend my days (keyword in that sentence being 'need').  Basically, I have to be on my guard with her at all times or she'll get herself into some kind of mischief.  Now, keep in mind that mischief for an almost nine-month old consists generally of playing with phone chargers, tearing up grocery ads, and trying to chew on (exclusively) left shoes.  You know, normal stuff.  

As a result, it's really important that I spend her nap time wisely doing stuff like laundry, doing dishes, feeding myself, or writing.  Unfortunately, I must admit that there are times that I instead end up doing something frivolous like watching old clips of Conan O'Brien on YouTube.  I'm not saying that's a bad thing though.  Today ended up being one of those days where I didn't get everything done during Ellie's nap.  Nothing to fear Bethany; I only watched TV while I was eating my lunch!  Therefore, when the time came for me to actually take a shower for the day, Ellie happened to be awake so I had to make due. 

Since Ellie's now a little older, I don't see the need to actually leave Ellie sitting right outside our bathroom door in her bouncy chair when showering.  Instead, I just close the hallway door to our bedroom, give Ellie some toys, and let her play in the floor accordingly.  Normally there's no issue with that but she was feeling a little clingy today after being a little sick overnight.  

About three minutes into my shower, shampoo in my hair, warm water cascading down over my face, eyes closed, and in my own little world (#HerbalEssences), Ellie chooses to let out a primal scream.  I literally jumped from a lack of expecting it.  I frantically hopped out of the shower, tied my towel around myself (because boundaries), and stepped out into the bedroom only to be met by the grinning visage of my daughter.  With an exasperated sigh, I stepped back into the shower to begin rinsing again.  Before I knew it, Ellie let out the same primal scream leading me to jump again.  I peeked out the door to see her sitting in the doorway, shaking a toy leaf, and grinning wildly at me again.  Realizing the game at this point, I then rushed through the rest of my shower, if for no other reason than to avoid Ellie-induced jump scares.

Is it more manly if I say it's the kind in the blue bottle? And that Bethany and I share shampoo? Oh, it doesn't?

I'm really hoping that Ellie hasn't decided that "Scaring Daddy" is her new favorite game.  She already scares me plenty with her lack of adequate chewing, her new obsession with attempting to climb and descend stairs, and the nastiness that awaits me in her diapers.  I really don't need her to add random jump scares to the mix.  If that's what I wanted, I'd just pay $2.99 for a random 'Five Nights at Freddy's' game.  #DaddyWrite

AAAHHHHHHH!!!