Day 116: A galaxy far far away

Atom is completely on the move, both vertically and horizontally. He is still growing at an alarming rate, for us at least, and he apparently has places to be because he cannot sit still. Even in his sleep he is in a constant state of perpetual motion. Turning, kicking, punching, stretching and rolling. His poor bassinet cannot handle all of this activity. Not only is he testing the structural weight limit (15 lbs) of the bassinet but his baby-fu is tenaciously working the walls around him.

So to our chagrin we moved him to the crib. The crib that is miles and miles from our bedroom right next door. It felt like we were setting up an outpost on some distant planet. Crib: Check! Monitor: Check! Tight fitting sheets: Check! Confirm free flow of oxygen: Check! Baby: check! Our fears: Check!

We changed him, tested the hand held monitors at various distances, and then gingerly put Atom into orbit. We each stole a few thousand glances and then went back to home base (our room).

"Pop", "Crack". The static over my hand held jumped into life.  Like the command crew for Apollo 13, I jumped into action. I quickly adjusted the volume (there is only one button on the entire unit) and stared intently at the monitor. "Sounds like he might be awake" I said. "Should I check on him?" Without waiting for a reply I was off.  Down the hall I went. It was worse then I could have imagined. He was still asleep but his foot was dangling out of the crib through one of the slats. I quickly put it back into his capsule and went to home base to report my findings. "Wuurrrp", "Wurrrp". This time we both jettisoned down the hallway in a coordinated rescue effort. Still asleep. Hand sticking through the slots of the crib this time. What were the manufacturers thinking with this shotty design! Surely those slots aren't regulation size. Or at least doctors should allow bumpers again. Amateurs.

Atom was called back to home base and his first mission considered a failure due to equipment malfunction. Not entirely a bad thing. We had another night with him in our room and much like the flight crew we came up with a tremendous solution.

The last few night he has slept in his Pack and Play (mesh walls: oxygen and plasticity) in our room. Maybe his current mission isn't as thrilling as his last considering it's low orbit but for home base it is imperative to feel more confident before we send him out into the outer limits of our little galaxy.

Day 107: Our Missing Piece

Today was the first day both my wife and I left Atom behind as we trudged off to the big city. I couldn't help but think of one of my favorite books growing up called "The Missing Piece" by Shel Silverstein. If you aren't familiar with the story it is basically about a PacMac looking circle that searches near and far for the pie shaped piece to make him complete. Not sure how the Pac man actually rolls around without his circle being a full. I would think he would start to roll, get half way around and have his gaping hole get stuck on a rock or something. Or maybe he would get stuck on the first step he rolled against. But no he travels all over the place, never snagging his pie hole on any impediments singing happily. Not very realistic in my opinion but I guess if Atari can also use this voodoo logic and get away it I had to accept it growing up.

So both of us, broken-hearted, spent the longest single amount of time away from him since he made his historic appearance 107 days ago. In the past, one of us had been around to text the other about his Herman Munster laugh, hiccups or acrobatic antics. Today I was relinquished to a measly 3 or 4 texts from Sharon relaying second hand information (he slept, he didn't poop, he ate, etc.) when she had a spare moment during pumping. How could I possibly survive with such little Atoms being fed to me? Is he rubbing his eyes (cause that means he is tired), is he working through his fingers like a juicy fourth of july corn on the cob (cause that means he's hungry), or did his piggies even make it to the vegetarian market (cause that is the only thing that makes him stop crying)? Luckily I have ten million pics of him on my computer to soothe my fix.

I apparently have made it through the day and still have the mental capacity to flex my fingers cause I am feverishly writing this to help pass the time. I wasn't sure I would make it. It helps knowing Atom was in good hands visiting with his grandparents today. It doesn't help that the bus is over crowded and traffic is slow. My mind keeps drawing mental pictures of Sharon and Atom now snuggling on the couch enjoying a private moment that only they can share. Sharon and Atom have a bond unmatched and I am glad they have some time together before I make two, three.

Much like Shel Silverstein's PacMan I too have found my missing piece however I could never imagine leaving it behind to sing songs while searching for another piece. I am completely content singing our songs with our missing piece in tow even if they all have to do with Poop at this point.

Day 102: Rolling Rolling Rolling

Atom has suddenly become mobile. He has always been very active with the kicking and punching but never really was anything more than a stationary dervish. Now, much like a Weeble Wobble, Atom can freely and willfully roll over to his side when lying on his back. It is a very awkward and humorous maneuver but it gets the job done.  He straightens out his legs and rocks his entire lower body back and forth until he has enough momentum to follow with his upper body. Although he seems to favor one side (his right), he can roll to either side with equal effort and success.

One of the odd by products of his technique, a technique which ironically I seem to be adopting the older I get, is a clock-like rotation. Atom starts to drift clockwise with every rollover attempt and with in seconds can be completely facing in a different position than which he started. The drift isn't a problem but it can be disorientating for a parent who is running on fumes. I am getting the eerie feeling that the days of plopping him down on his mat worry-free and leaving the room to get my fourth cup of coffee will soon be a thing of the past. It won't be long before we are chasing him around the house wondering if we will ever get our first cup of coffee. Clearly he is already plotting his get away as he has taken to kneading his hands in front of his chest while displaying an intense look in his eyes. The only thing missing is Sean Connery, a kitty cat, and a sinister laugh. For now I will pour my fourth cup of coffee (too much coffee I know), head back to the living room and look down with confidence at Atom in the same place he was when I briefly left the room. His head may now be where his feet were when I left and he may be on his leaning over on his side but at least I am not winded and fighting off a caffeine head ache.

Day 95: The Sound of Baby

I have never been so in tune with sounds. No babble, burst, cackle, coo, cry, guffaw, jabber, laugh, moan, murmur, shriek, shout, snort, squeal, toot, yell or whine goes unnoticed. We are constantly sifting through the cacophony that is Atom in hopes of illuminating his disposition. They are clues, right? Meant as bread crumbs into his soul, right? Right...Well that's what we think.

Us humans are used to abandoned and often times un-welcomed pontification and discourse and it is only logical for us to assume every noise coming out of Atom is a slightly garbled cipher waiting to be unraveled. Sharon and I listen intently at every gurgle, gulp, and giggle feverishly translating for each other. "Oh, that means he is hungry!" "The use of a guttural tone at the end meant he wants to be changed." "Three coo's on Thursdays means he wants to watch The Office."

Much like The Da Vinci Code, I believe we are only about two - two and a half hours away from cracking this whole Baby-ese thing wide open. The last remaining hurtle seems to be that Atom is smarter than we are and he is changing his code at an alarming rate.  Like a very talented Code Talker he seamlessly floats between what appears to be many dialects or versions of Pig Latin with new types added daily.

I hope he slows down one day long enough for us to completely understand all of his desires, dreams, wants and wishes so we are sure to meet them.

For now, we will keep our ears open and continue to confidently tell each other that two gulps followed by a long wet slurp means he wants another hug.