Tuesday, January 12, 2010

A Series of Fortunate (and Not-So-Fortunate) Events

So here's the down side of having an infant: A trip to Babies-R-Us and Taco Bell qualifies as a veritable party. And that's just what we did today. We bundled up little Max, squeezed him into the infant car seat, and headed off. He cooperated beautifully, sleeping the entire time as we popped him in and out of the car, wandered aisles filled with baby items, stuffed our faces with tacos and burritos, and capped things off with a stop at Starbucks.

Of course, his cooperation may have been aided by a landmark development last night, when Max slept--drumroll please--for 8 consecutive hours. Yes, at just 3 weeks old. And I didn't even have to slip him a mickey to make it happen. Truth be known, I did have to spend a good hour-and-a-half ushering him through an extremely fussy mood before he finally conked out at just about midnight. When I opened my eyes upon waking up and saw that the clock said 7:56, I could hardly believe it. In fact, I was compelled to rush into Max's room to make sure he was still breathing.

Not long after this, and moments after he'd finished his morning boob session, Max was propped on our bed as Sarah and I shared a loving embrace. We both looked at him as we hugged, and he flashed us his biggest smile to date, clearly enjoying seeing the love between his parents (or, as he probably refers to us, the Milk Factory and Diaper Guy). Seeing that smile to start the day was like being awash in rays of South Pacific sunshine.

Of course, with any baby, such mesmerizing moments are often interspersed with the stuff they always leave out of the "Have a Baby!" brochures. Our most recent of these came yesterday afternoon, when Sarah decided to give Max a bath. As mom carried him into the kitchen, his little serpent came to life, raining a shower of pee all over Sarah and the breakfast table. Pee with your coffee, anyone? Then, when we finally got him into the little baby bathtub, he proceeded to let loose with a torrent of poop, resulting in what looked like the beginning of pesto soup, only without the basil, Parmesan or pine nuts.

Oops, that reminds me--dinner time!

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