Small versions of anything are just cute. Just think - full-grown adult lion: scary. Baby lion? Adorable!
Big corn? Stuck in your teeth. Baby corn? Add Tom Hanks and it's comedy gold.
Giant buddha statue made of stone? Kinda weird. Little tiny buddha statue on your dashboard? Kinda cute.
Baby baby-fart? Cute! Big baby-fart followed by full diaper - not so cute.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
MILESTONES!
Today, my baby threw up in my mouth for the first time.
The bucket-list keeps getting shorter...
The bucket-list keeps getting shorter...
Monday, September 10, 2012
A PENNY SAVED
The thrill of parenting is in such quotidian pleasures as finding a deal.
F'rinstance, a deal for diapers. Typically, it makes sense to buy a larger pack as you get a better deal, right? So, while awaiting our child to finally grow out of newborn diapers, we've been buying them in an ad hoc fashion from Target. We usually get the Pampers Swaddlers newborn (with wetness indicator!) in a 96 pack.
Today, however, I discovered that there's a sale on the 36 count packs for $9.49, which works out to a unit price of about 26 cents - but wait, there's more! If you buy three of the 36 packs you receive a $5 Target gift card, and of course, even though that essentially ensures more money coming into their coffers, that effectively decreases the unit price to about 21 cents, and boom, you're doublin' your money all day long, or at least getting a fairly good deal.
And even those few cents can add up and make a difference - after all, even a humble penny can be worth far more than its currency value.
Now if only I could figure out a way for this trick to pay for a trip to Hawaii...
F'rinstance, a deal for diapers. Typically, it makes sense to buy a larger pack as you get a better deal, right? So, while awaiting our child to finally grow out of newborn diapers, we've been buying them in an ad hoc fashion from Target. We usually get the Pampers Swaddlers newborn (with wetness indicator!) in a 96 pack.
Today, however, I discovered that there's a sale on the 36 count packs for $9.49, which works out to a unit price of about 26 cents - but wait, there's more! If you buy three of the 36 packs you receive a $5 Target gift card, and of course, even though that essentially ensures more money coming into their coffers, that effectively decreases the unit price to about 21 cents, and boom, you're doublin' your money all day long, or at least getting a fairly good deal.
And even those few cents can add up and make a difference - after all, even a humble penny can be worth far more than its currency value.
Now if only I could figure out a way for this trick to pay for a trip to Hawaii...
Thursday, September 6, 2012
EVERYTHING KEEPS CHANGING, OVER AND OVER AGAIN
Another afternoon spent getting the baby to relax, which got me thinking:
When I first started dating - actually, throughout my relationships with women - there'd be many occasions when something wouldn't quite be comfortable. Now, don't read something naughty in here that isn't there; what I mean is that with past girlfriends, your hands would be entwined in a particular way that the circulation to your fingertips would slowly be strangulated off, or you're sitting next to each other in an awkward way that's straining one of your knee's ligaments, or perhaps you're cuddling in the way they always do in the movies, only in films they don't mention the fact that your arm is slowly falling asleep and her elbow is digging uncomfortably into your spare tire flab, but you don't care, this is awesome, it's you and your girlfriend!
I'm reminded of the above because right now, I'm on the bouncy ball with the baby strapped to my chest with the Ergo, browsing the interwebs. Her beautiful sleeping face is just below my chin so I just have to tilt my head a little to kiss her brow or sniff her hair. And her left zygomatic arch and mandible are digging into my sternum in the most uncomfortable fashion, no matter how much and how gently I've tried to adjust her face's position, and like with those old girlfriends I can't seem to get comfortable. It's a bit tortuous.
But sitting here, listening to her quiet little baby's farts while she slumbers with the boniest part of her head and face pressed into the most sensitive bits of my torso, I wouldn't move her and wake her for the world, I love being here right now with my baby, our baby, our beautiful child, pressed against my heart.
Plus, if she woke up, I wouldn't be able to blog anymore.
When I first started dating - actually, throughout my relationships with women - there'd be many occasions when something wouldn't quite be comfortable. Now, don't read something naughty in here that isn't there; what I mean is that with past girlfriends, your hands would be entwined in a particular way that the circulation to your fingertips would slowly be strangulated off, or you're sitting next to each other in an awkward way that's straining one of your knee's ligaments, or perhaps you're cuddling in the way they always do in the movies, only in films they don't mention the fact that your arm is slowly falling asleep and her elbow is digging uncomfortably into your spare tire flab, but you don't care, this is awesome, it's you and your girlfriend!
I'm reminded of the above because right now, I'm on the bouncy ball with the baby strapped to my chest with the Ergo, browsing the interwebs. Her beautiful sleeping face is just below my chin so I just have to tilt my head a little to kiss her brow or sniff her hair. And her left zygomatic arch and mandible are digging into my sternum in the most uncomfortable fashion, no matter how much and how gently I've tried to adjust her face's position, and like with those old girlfriends I can't seem to get comfortable. It's a bit tortuous.
But sitting here, listening to her quiet little baby's farts while she slumbers with the boniest part of her head and face pressed into the most sensitive bits of my torso, I wouldn't move her and wake her for the world, I love being here right now with my baby, our baby, our beautiful child, pressed against my heart.
Plus, if she woke up, I wouldn't be able to blog anymore.
EXTRACURRICULARS ARE INTIMIDATING
Okay, so the baby's now five weeks old so I realize that talking about her extracurricular activities may not only be a bit premature, it may be a little high-expectations Asian father.
But it's never too early, right? The question is, what activities? She's got long, beautiful, clever fingers that photograph well (that part, she takes after me, the photogenic digits), so in terms of musical instruments, of course she'll be playing piano, first violin, or theremin. But what sport? What sport will allow her to distinguish herself when she applies to college, Ivy League, Berkeley, not Berklee? Because, after all, you've gotta play some sport, right, and she's gotta stand out. So, that means that the usual suspects are out. Soccer? Way too many Mia Hamm wannabes, there's no way to really stand out. Softball? Too butch. Swimming? Do you have any idea what kind of infections you can get from spending that much time in the water? Running, like cross country? Veeeery appealing to her father, but again, way too many participants, tough to really get on top. And then I figured it out: sport shooting.
Yeah, competitive sport shooting! Like IDPA, IPSC, USPSA, pistols! I got my idea when I found out about this 17 year old who's sponsored by Glock:
Perfect! It's different enough, there aren't but a few competitors relatively speaking so she'd have a better chance of really standing out, and the bonus is that I could sleep soundly at night knowing that she could pretty well take care of herself.
Forget that Katniss nonsense, gimme Annie Oakley over here!
 |
| Actually, my wife's blood type is A+, a fact she lords over me incessantly. |
Yeah, competitive sport shooting! Like IDPA, IPSC, USPSA, pistols! I got my idea when I found out about this 17 year old who's sponsored by Glock:
Perfect! It's different enough, there aren't but a few competitors relatively speaking so she'd have a better chance of really standing out, and the bonus is that I could sleep soundly at night knowing that she could pretty well take care of herself.
Forget that Katniss nonsense, gimme Annie Oakley over here!
Saturday, September 1, 2012
EVERYONE FEARS A BABY
So tonight we made a visit to the Orange Street Fair, and annual event in the city of Orange that involves my favorite things, cart food and beer - nothing's as delightful as standing on a sidewalk eating a messy, freshly cooked souvlaki and downing it with beer.
As it is every year, it was turribly warm with a fearsome sun, but this year was different - this year, we had babies.
Being a polite sort of person my habit is to give way to others and stand politely aside while those older/female/portlier/notnecessarilyalloftheseatthesametime go ahead, it's what gentlemens do, which makes navigating the throngs of sweaty, buzzed Orange Countians difficult to do, in fact it'd bring you to a grinding halt as the next bro lopes by with a Bud light spilling out onto his pants or the inked hep-cat 50's wannabe guides his Bettie Page-be-banged (talking about hair styles here, people) pin-up wannabe to his awaiting fellow soul-patched small-brim hat wearing buddies, or cats, or whatever the hell they call each other. At this point, when it looked like I'd never get to the beer cart, my wife instructed me to forget those people, they'll get outta the way. The crazy thing is, they actually did!
The seas of people parted in front of our stroller like a Russian ice breaker racing towards the North pole, plastic surgery disasters practically leapt out of the way for fear that they may actually contact our pram. Which, I think, speaks well of these folks, that they want to treat our littlest Orange County citizens with some gentleness, or perhaps it's that they were afraid that it was catching, i.e. littleness, or perhaps pregnancy and the resulting little one would happen if they just accidentally touched the stroller, but it was pretty amazing.
The funny thing was that the same phenomenon didn't hold true for the older children, so what's the cut off? Is it when they're one? Three? Surely not eight? At what age, at what point do we stop getting out of the way for others?
Thing is they actually shouldn't want to accidentally touch me - I work in health care, I'm probably swimming in MRSA.
As it is every year, it was turribly warm with a fearsome sun, but this year was different - this year, we had babies.
Being a polite sort of person my habit is to give way to others and stand politely aside while those older/female/portlier/notnecessarilyalloftheseatthesametime go ahead, it's what gentlemens do, which makes navigating the throngs of sweaty, buzzed Orange Countians difficult to do, in fact it'd bring you to a grinding halt as the next bro lopes by with a Bud light spilling out onto his pants or the inked hep-cat 50's wannabe guides his Bettie Page-be-banged (talking about hair styles here, people) pin-up wannabe to his awaiting fellow soul-patched small-brim hat wearing buddies, or cats, or whatever the hell they call each other. At this point, when it looked like I'd never get to the beer cart, my wife instructed me to forget those people, they'll get outta the way. The crazy thing is, they actually did!
The seas of people parted in front of our stroller like a Russian ice breaker racing towards the North pole, plastic surgery disasters practically leapt out of the way for fear that they may actually contact our pram. Which, I think, speaks well of these folks, that they want to treat our littlest Orange County citizens with some gentleness, or perhaps it's that they were afraid that it was catching, i.e. littleness, or perhaps pregnancy and the resulting little one would happen if they just accidentally touched the stroller, but it was pretty amazing.
The funny thing was that the same phenomenon didn't hold true for the older children, so what's the cut off? Is it when they're one? Three? Surely not eight? At what age, at what point do we stop getting out of the way for others?
Thing is they actually shouldn't want to accidentally touch me - I work in health care, I'm probably swimming in MRSA.
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